} »”,
“The old man thinks I'm no said
Slade, his face flushed in Oy at
the priest's dexterous rebuke. “If he had
any sense he'd never try to hitch her to
Bellefonte, Pa., April 21, 1911. | gil Bates pont If ned be little lems
1. .
rr ee | Bi) http Hin! 1 1d De her . .. that's
THE BRAVEST BATTLE. iy ith Wiles: into one.”
eee The priest came back from the fire; I
The bravest battle that ever was fought— believe he had been whsspering to the
Shall I tell you where and when? graybeard. “Ah,” he said, “I overheard
On the maps of the world you will find it not: | you again. What should a man do with
F048 at 0 tis ston of eh Ta Tr Tred, Mr.
cannon or battle ously. Now, you m
Nay, not with eiogeent word or thought hapa you heard his h wots, with
Yoo = He. their quaint accentuation, the stumbling
But deep in a welled-up woman's heart, strong phrases struck from
A woman that would not yield, the man’s enkindling anger and sense of
But bravely, silently bore her part— | stern justice; nor the scene in the dark
Lo! there is that battlefield. | room, with the bell-buoy booming below
No marshaling troops, no bivouac song; and the figure of the greybeard 3
No banner to gleam and wave.
But, O, these battles they last so long—
From babyhood to the grave.
Yet, faithful still as a bridge of stars, man, a millionaire even in those
She fights in her walled-up town— days, before wealth had heaped up new
Fights on and on in the endless wars, fortunes for its possessors. Tele des
Then, silent, unseen, goes down. Rochers was substantially the same
0, ye with banners and battle shot as now, save that the did not
sport, he |
a bis guide. . |
ier, to
:
:
ng
, calling back: |
Envious were the glances that some
cast back at him, for Pierre Desmoulius,
with his fine figure and handsome face,
|
ulf et. could have won many a girl in Tete des |
“There" good-} Rochers in place of tte Tremblay,the
girls in this God £ aod ookig daughter of the postmistress, though he |
was one of the life-boat crew and the |
death of his father in the maw of the |
oreshadowed his own.
Pierre caught the girl by the arm and |
linked his own through hers. Thus they |
passed onward toward the pier, he chat-
tering volubly at times and n silent, |
she always silent. Gradually, fores the |
crime, that's what it is, and somebody | 8irl’s indifference, Pierre's speech died |
i ; a | away. . i
SEH: to stop it. And if nobody will, | They stood at the piers o nd, side by
essed side, their arms no longer lin :
the Me broks of abrutly, anil fleet | tourist boat had cast anchor, and her jae |
weeks in the year in which to play upon | Sengers thronged the decks, Staring atthe |
those vagrant fancies that Slade, freed | Astier.girle, Pitying theie lonely We io -
+. . . i { “How appy re, yi
fom a need of toil, could indulge peren | myrmo Lisette enviousy. ’ :
“We'll hire a boat and row to the light- “Oh some are happy and some are not, :
house tomorrow,” said Slade. “I want | Respondad Pierre, sagely. SR they con-
you to take a look at her. I've had quite | €2al their SN as we 3 they cango
some talks with her at the store. She “But they are free an ; Y The I
wants to leave home and see the world, | Where they wil, said ge a * ith ey |
and fancies it's a sort of magnified and are gop —1o aspe, e sala, |
glorified Tete des Rochers. What a fife drawnbreath.
for her, cooped up in that old lighthouse | Pierre turned and lool Qual er, liinot]
with the old man and her crazy grand-; ‘When we are Mg u ig linking his
father, or whoever that patriarchal old | Want to roam,” he replied, g
person is!’’ {arm through hers again, alt. snd.slbd
The priest came out again and took up | But She d detached Fi an gulls’
his cigar from the window-edge, on which | 8azing har ao sea, a 3 ng oe A
he had laid it. He waited till his charges Bight {jo the gray 8 po lite a epi
rae tripped out of sight down the declivi- was a all it sg to a cde |
- i i » to. | INtO twilight. e opposite shore had |
oa fogs topthe Lighthouse so. | vanished in the night mists, and out of |
heard you; my windows open behind your | depths the vessel,alight from stern to the |
heads. And or so quick at hearing,” | bow, blazed like a galaxy of Rar into]
he added, with self-depreciation. “To- _ And he, too, would soon go 5
morrow I visit my charges there, and, if | that outer Worle the goung yac Rorgan
you Ske, I will call oF you at your hotel ' oho dad first taught her that she was
in the afternoon. shall be your boat- | . . : :
man, for rowing is my soul exercise until | A voice hailed her, Pitched just. % as
the hunting season begins.” to reach her ears. She started and glanc-
Slade made a grimace at me. “We | ed toward the yacht. Pierre was alking
couldn't refuse,” he said. as we strolled | to the harbor-master ad Sid hot gee A
down the hill. “But I don't fancy hay- | Man was beckoning to X F rom we ow
ing that priest around. 1 wonder how | —she knew him: Mar! "Bar re
much he overheard?” | cargoes of contraband from Baie de Loup |
He called for us on the following day, | OPPosite, a man of ; Suge vepitaion
late in the afternoon, and we pulled out | among the coast fo ah Sw him
through the slack tide A gaunt mist laugh, and his voice accen
world,” said Slade, “but I tell you that
old convict’s daughter has them’ all beat-
en. Did you see the look that chunky
French Canadian mill-hand gave mein the
store tonight? He's her fiance, it a rs,
and he’s spotted me for a rival. hen 1
think of Marie bestowing herself upon
that lout it just makes me sick. It's a
1
8 2
&
7
:
eg
|
gE
f
y
g
i
i
:
i
f
g
2
F
iF
i
4
E
i
a
zhi
Hl
ell
She looked up; Mark
at her side, smiling evilly.
And she was at the foot of the wharf,
Janis from where his boat lay moored.
ive steps up from the sand, ten
and one was aboard. Why had she gone
thither?
That was what Mark Frere asked her.
“Do you not work with the other girls?”
he asked. “What are you dreaming of?"
She saw his black eyes bent upon her,
and, stammering for words, as one asleep,
she said.
“I want to see Gaspe.”
“I'll take you to Gaspe,” hecried. “See
the good little boat. At once we run
down with the tide. Then to-morrow we
shall return. Ah, the good little boat,
you should see how she cuts through the
waves.”
“You will—take me to Gaspe” cried Li-
sette, her eyes open wide in fear and as-
tonishment.
“Just for a little run—then back. No-
body will see you come aboard.”
“Wait then. I must tell .Vaman.”
“No, no. Come now.”
He swung her up from the sands to the
pier and led her to the edge. One spring,
and they were aboard. A boy
hoisting the sails; they flapped to the
breeze, and all at once the anchor was up
and the pier began to recede.
“I will not go with you,” she cried. “Set
me ashore.”
The boy looked up and grinned. Mark
leered evilly and twirled his black mus-
“Let me go!" cried the girl, striking at
him. “I hate you.”
Mark stepped aside and bowed. “There
is somebody below whom you will like
an '
It was a seamen’s tavern. In a
sailors were drinking with women
Town.
Pierre saw Lisette.
There was a flurry and scramble in
the inmates saw a tall
occupations are more healthful and con-
ducive to long life than indoor industries.
| A table published some years ago in Eng-
land shows that the mortality among far-
mers is less than among any other class
farmers is 14 percent. great-
g for a door. Pierce followed her | er, or 114; grocers, 139; fishermen, 143;
br a short corridor, into an empty | carpenters, 148; lawyers, 152; shoemak-
r | ers, 166; blacksmiths, 175; tailors, 189;
gown and fell prone to the ground, curs- | vhysicians, 202; butchers, 211; plumbers
ing and weeping, while she, dumb with | and painters, 216; brewers, 245; file.mak-
i 1 300; hotel service, 397. Many other
Presently he began to plead. “Come occupations are omitted from the above
with yed. “All list, but these show how much more
are waiting for you. We will be married ; chance the farmer has for a long life than
in the little church. I shall not ask you those in other business.
anything. Come! . In part this is due to a more liberal and
“I have not seen your face,” he wept. varied food supply. monotony of
“You shall come to-morrow: listen! You | the farmer's occupation is varied by the
shall come in the dark. Winter is near; '
the white snows will hide everything—all
memories. Nothing will be seen but the
tops of the pines and the true little light
that flashes over the sea. We will live the business man, the financier or the
there. Come with me!” | politician, or the broken rest, scenes of
She never spoke; yet he knew that he | suffering and chances of infectious dis-
might as well have prayed to the sky. At eases of the physicians, nnrses and hos-
last he rose. . pital attendants.
“I shall always wait for you,” he said. Dr. Samuel W. Abbot says country life
“I shall go to the lighthouse. And every . in general is more healthful than city life,
night its glow will be a beacon of wel- | the average moitality is less in the
come, calling to you across the evil things | country than in the city. The fresh out-
of the dark.” { door air helps to promote health and life,
When he went into the street the day | but fresh indoor air is quite as important.
was breaking. He made his way instinc- | and ially that in sleepingrooms. In
tively toward the harbor. In front of him many farmhouses of modern construction
a yacht lay at anchor, brave with | the sleeping-rooms are too small and lack-
and paint. As he approached her he | ing in means for proper ventilation. The
"heard footsteps behind him, turned and , foul air cannot get out to be renewed by
looked into the face of the yachtsman, fresh air from out of doors in a room with
staggering back from some night revelry | windows and doors tightly closed, unless
ashore. latter halted and clapped | there is an open fireplace or grate, and
him on the back drunkenly. | the grate is not sufficient for proper vent-
“I know you, Jean,” he cried, thickly. ilation unless there is a fire in it.
| “Where have we met?" | Itis essential to have pure water, and
Pierre felt in his sleeve. “Don’t you re- = while the water supply of farms is, as a
member me?” he asked, and plunged a rule, superior to that of thickly-settled
knife into his breast. villages where it is drawn from private
' wells, there are many cases of badly-pol-
luted wells on the farms, and when the
water is used in dairies where milk is sup-
plied to large populations they are a
source of serious danger to public health.
Driven wells are the safeguards. From
these the water cannot become impure,
! Soming up fresh from the bowels of the
earth.
change of seasons and succession of crops,
and the tiller of the soil is not affected by
the practical sameness of his work, as
the hurry, the anxiety and the worry of
“Yes, they pardoned him after he had
served one year,” said the cure. “He
| came straight back to Tete des Rochers,
| and he n2ver spoke of her afterward. Ey
{and by we got him the charge of the '
| lighthouse. and ever since—that must be |
| nineteen years—he has been here.”
“But the woman?" :
“She came back two years afterward,” |
| the cure answered. “I saw the flash of |
distress from the lighthouse and hurried !
| down the hill. It was the middle of win- |
Water is not always pure that is clean
and good tasting. It may even then be
badly polluted. No well should be lo-
cated in close proximity to the cowyard,
better,’’ he snickered.
The cure paused and glanced toward
the form of the graybeard by the fire.
He had not stirred. Slade and 1 waited
in silence. Presently the priest resumed
his story.
ter; ice choked the Gulf and a hurricane
| was driving the pelting snows across the
land. But a priest is like a doctor; he
| cannot wait till the sun comes out. |
| dragged it down to the sea, entered, and
pulled for the point through the thick
“Sooner or later,” the fishermen say, floes. A shattered boat lay on the reef—
“the sea tells all its secrets.”
But Pierre Desmoulins did not
always | the tourists use in fine weather. Inside a
brood by the tides. He paced the
shores | Woman crouched, shielding a bundle in
incessantly, insatiably questioning the her arms, and Pierre knelt at her side. I |
seafaring men in all the hamlets of the !| had just time to hear her and give her the
Gulf shores. Always he prayed to the Sacrament.
Virgin that he might find her living and
lead her home. Soon his lonely figure be-
came a sight well known among the fish-
er-folk. It was during the following sum-
mer that the old lighthouse-keeper made
a proposition to him.
“You must not grieve all your life for
her,” he said. “I am growing old; soon
the earth will receive my Bones, Come,
4 0 ow
eal leach ren gone. | toward us from the fire, his arms stretched
Presently the sea will heal you." | out in front of him, as though he groped
Pierre thanked him. “Perhaps, some- | through the fogs of his mind. “She had
time," he said. “But not till I have aban. | a salmon’s eyes!" he cried. “She had a
doned hope.”” He continued his search- | salmon’s eyes!
ing. It was easily learned that she had | The cure went forward and supported
gone with Mark Frere aboard the yacht! him,
: she had pulled that tiny craft clear over
| the Gulf through the blizzard, her only
guide the steady beacon gleam on Tete
' des Rochers. But she was fleeing from sin,
Messiurs, and her heart told her that God
i stripped half to the skin; but she saved
| the child.”
Suddenly the graybeard rose and came
—but ond that no one knew anything. | ing, threw some more fagots upon the em-
Once Pierre went across the Gulf to| bers. Then he came back to Slade.
| found a boat above the water-line and |
| just a common little open boat, such asd
“With her two hands, unused to labor, '
| works through the darkness. She had
led him back to his chair, and,stoop- |
| the back yard of the house, the barn cel-
lar or house cellar, the neighborhood of
| the hogsty or the cesspool.
i In hilly or mountainous sections it is a
common practice to bring water from
springs higher than the house and free
from all danger of contamination. But
in doing this there may be an element of
anger in using lead pipe. This is in-
creased by long lines of pipe, and still
more when pains are not taken to draw
off in the morning the water that has
stood in the pipe overnight. It is safer
to use no lead pipe at all, but to use iron,
which is entirely safe, and the cost of oc-
casional renewal is not a serious tax.
There may be danger from the water
that goes out of the house as well as from
that which comes in. The pool of water
near the back door or under the windows
of sleeping rooms is not a pleasant or
healthful ornament. If the water is run
| into a cesspool it should be so construct-
; ed that no foul odors can escape into the
house.
The farmer needs recreation, but not
ing, sailing or some sort of indoor games
to divert his mind may give him needed
1 should be without access to agood library,
of the kinds which will give him more |
exercise, such as rowing or football. Fish-
rest. Good reading is another excellent '
| form of recreation, and no fariner's house |
| Baie du Loup. But all he could learn
there was that Mark Frere had disap-
“So perhaps you understand why that to which should be added a subscription
fine tg arsh with the girl,” he said. | to some good farm journal and such
shrouded the Gulf, through which the |
booming of the bell-buoy seemed to dif- |
fuse itself in every quarter. On Tete des
Rochers, where the long line of the hills
plunged into the sucking sea in steep,
black cliffs that shored up the edge of a!
| ing.
ror of the lonely shore. The incoming
tide, turning the brackish water salt, be-
gan suddenly to lay the rocks and send
up little ripples of spray. Next moment
Pierre came hack: he had observed noth-
red, abandoning his wife and child.
“He knows that it is lonely in Tete des
e heard of Pierre at Tadousac and, ob-
Rochers; he knows the tug at her heart
taining absence from the lifeboat crew, | and the wild things that clamor in her
went thither. Frere had put into Tadou- | mind. It is natural that the young should
sac the preceding spring, they told him, | be in love with life and that they should
| other periodicals as his means will per- |
| mit.
It should be the duty of every farmer
to lay aside a certain amount of money
| each year for some means of enjoyment, i
continent, the lighthouse had already be- | “You are sad, Lisette,” he said. “But
gun Blinking gayly when we arrived. We | hen — are married you will forget.
grounded upon the reefs and stepped | :
cautiously across the slippery weeds until | He could not Fonte, for Xhe i hadow
we reached the little entrance door, t ssed her . ! upon
the keeper met us. ); it was the loneliness of men
He only grunted in answer to the! Who strike against the mighty forces of
priest's introduction and, turning, led the | the hills and the sea. al
way up the worn steps of stone until we She watched him i Server . Alwaye
reached the living-room, half-way to the ' that marriage. Would never Movs
top, a barely furnished place, austerely talking of it? More silent Han W siote
devoid of those chromographs and cheap | they retraced their steps fowa the clus-
colored prints dear to the French or , ter of log houses under the pine-topped
By the fireplace, almost beneath the hol- cliffs. i Lit
low flue that ascended to the roofs, carry- Later that night, while Lisette hemmed
t
Where him also;
ing the smuts and sparks of a new fire, wedding-clothes in the kitchen, Pierre
sat a tall old man of great age, who look- | talked with her , the postmis-
ed up at us, blinking and mumbling, but | tress, and the unheeded { clicked
said nothing nor rose. out its messages vil to village
“He never speaks,” the priest explain- | along the shore. The girl caught frag-
ed. "But itis t he understands.” | ments of messages that came out of the
But the girl: had not over-appre- | voi miles of Sud-
ciated her. She had the black Breton Genly HO O ticked out. It was the call
hair so common the Canadian de- | for ,
2
§
i!
:
:
:
gt
in a small fishing-boat; but he had no | hunger for experiences.” He addressed ' something in which the entire fam y can |
woman with him.
“She will come when the salmon come,"
babbled the old guide, rubbing his hands,
and chuckling in the spring sunshine.
The postmistress never spoke of her.
Such little tragedies were common enough
in the Guif villages. They must be borne
uncomplainingly. But Pierre did not for-
get.
id: “You ought
You should not
always grieve for her. It is not natural
for a young man to grieve forever for one
guide came in and took down his
rod. “I must give you a drink of
oil, my fine fellow,” he muttered. “Soon
salmon will come, and then the tour-
:
g
:
g
g
|
i
i
il
Hi
H
Es
:
i
g
&
ec ”
f
1
g ?
H
“
&
5
g
to tremble. “She did not
1 Fa
was rid
him. Whose?” he mut-
“Meester Blakes—lee’s," he answered,
:
«|
3
?
iz
¥
| Slade only, and his voice seemed to fill | be benefited. Not only reading
the chamber, re-echoing the solemn call | matter and sports, but also music—a
of the bell-buoy without. “But whoso of- | piano, an organ or a graphanhone, for in- |
| fends against one of the innocent oncs, it | stance—something that will give life to
| were better for him that a millstone were pvt | the surroundings and make the winter
about his neck and he were drowned in the ' evenings enjoyable. Attractions like
depths of the sea.” | these will go a great way toward k
Slade placed his hand upon my arm. | the boys and girls on the farm.
| “Let's go,” he said.
But he said afterward that, with Saul,
he had been bowed before a blinding light
which seemed to encompass him. playing
| its fierce rays upon his soul, so that the
Recessity oye righteousness lay like divid-
ing steel between his purpose and its ac-
| complishment.—By Victor Rousseau, in
| Harper's Weekly.
ng
any
| farmers are entirely too selfish when it
too little for the family’s entertainment.
Let sunshine into the home and there
will not only be a longer lease of life, but
there will be so much pieasure that the
work on the next day will be more easily
performed, and life will surely be wort
living for.
Loss of fiesh is generally a sign of loss
of health. It is surely so when the body
begins to show a marked decrease of its
normal weight. There is a certain fixed
relation between the height and the
weight which is reckoned on by insurance
companies in their estimate of risks, and
any marked variation from the scale
means rejection for the applicant. Are
losing flesh? n the use of Dr.
Pierce's Golden ny Discovery. It
His Chance to Vote.
The chronicles of our vice presidents
gre notoriously barren of incident. This
probably was the reason for the way
Adlai Stevenson secured the exercise
of a constitutional prerogative. It was
one sleepy day toward the end of his
term as vice president. The United
States senate was plowing through the
calendar and passing many bills. Bills
are considered agreed to in the senate
if no oral objection is raised after they
have passed through the preliminary
stages, but the usual form of asking | gosh follows the use of the
for the yeas and nays is followed bY | in almost every
the presiding officer. The vice presi- | -
dent had said: i
“Senators in favor of the bill will
say ‘Aye.’ ” Pause. “Contrary, ‘No.'”
Not a single response,
“The vote is a tie,” announced Mr.
Stevenson.
The senator in charge of the bill
paused on his way to the cloakroom
and looked surprised.
“In case of a tie the vice president
may cast the deciding vote. In the ex-
ercise of his constitutional privilege
the vice president votes ‘Aye.’ ”
sound health. A
gh vy by the addition of good, fF
: Yes, it was so cold
Alaska when I left that smoke froze back
into coal before leaving the chimney.
Host: Pooh, that’s nothing; I was in
Florida fo Years ago, and it was so warm
that they had to the chickens on
cracked ice to keep them from
hard-boiled eggs.
The first change of life, the time when
the girl becomes, in Nature's purpose a
ET in eyery airs
J use every -
: lance not to it the establishment of
conditions wi] vil involve a Henion-
dous penal in later years. othing
could A ha to suggest the use of
Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription at such
a time. It establishes regularity quiets
“Favorite Prescrip-
um, cocaine or other
narcotic, and is entirely free from alconol.
A Pearl In the Trough.
“How are you teday? [Feeling well?”
“Do you really care a rap?’
“Not a rap. | merely asked out of
that | see was quite wast
ed.”—Pittsburg Post.
comes to home enjoyments. They care |
builds | background for em
i
i
——
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Though we travel the world over to find the
beautiful, we must carry it with us or we find it
not.—Emerson.
Near Boston Spa, in Yorkshire, Eng-
land, there is a so-called "wishing well,”
which is probably nothing else than a
survival of n tree-worship. The
place is called St. Helen's Well, and has
been so named ever since the days of the
Romans, but those who introduced Chris-
tianity into these islands frequently re-
baptized the pagan shrines which they
found in their path.
The legend runs that people visiting
. this dried-up well to offer up prayers will
have their wish granted if they leave an
offering in the shape of a shred of their
own clothing and observe strict secrecy
in regard to the nature of their demands.
Not only lovers and superstitious country
folk make pilgrimages to St. Helen's
Well; the grove is frequented in summer
time by quite serious people, who do not
hesitate, when the backs of their com-
panions are turned, to furtively tie some
scrap from their clothing to the twisted
roots and murmur their heart's desire.
~—Wide World Magazine.
Now that crocheting and Irish lace have
become a fad, the girl with many leisure
moments spends much of her time mak-
ing dainty laces if she is skilled at this
sort of work. One of the most effective
forms of this work is the crocheting of
covers for little gold collar pins, and while
the lacemaker can cover six of these pins
in very little time if she attempts to buy
the covered pins at one of the shops she
will pay a pretty price for them.
You can make beaded hatpins yourself,
and so easy is the work and so effective
the result that venture to assert that you
will have more than one set in your
spring and summer list of accessories.
Buy the wooden forms that are already
mounted on pins. You can get them at
any art needlework department. Cover
the wooden head with silk, velvet, satin
or linen after you embroider the circular
disk in beads.
When you cut the circular piece, allow
for the covering of the under surface.
Draw a design that may be conventional,
or a naturalistic flower large enough to
cover the circular top. Daisies in white
or yellow, tiny for-get-me-nots, the iris
flower, or any bright scheme of squares
or circles will do. Work the design in
beads and then gather the edge of the
piece and draw up after covering the
wooden head. Sew firmly around the
pin, and if there be a suggestion of slip-
ping, apply a little mucilage cn one spot
underneath. This will hold the cover
firmly in place.
Make two or three pins to complete
your set. You can do this in an hour,
and you will be pleased with the results.
Abroad some bridesmaids carry a floral
muff in place of the conventional bouquet
of flowers—a mode very much in favor
this year. One lovely muff which was
shown last week was made entirely of a
mass of pure white stocks mounted on a
flat mauve silk foundation that had a
frill of the silk showing about an inch be-
vond the flowers on cither side.
The white flowers were further bright-
enad by a border of mauve sweet peas, a
bunch of the same being laid on the muff.
Large muffs made of black lace and net
that match lace neck ruffies are likewise
to be seen. A very effective addition to
a new spring costume was a scarf of
Royal blue chiffon veiled in fine black
net and trimmed with a border of black
velvet ribbon about an inch wide. To
match this was a big flat muff made of
blue chiffon veiled with black and trim-
med with a big black velvet bow.
Straw beads are the latest trimming for
straw hats. These are made in chains
and girdles of about three-quarters of a
yard in length, and are composed of big,
, round and oval beads threaded alternate-
ly. They can be had in all black or in
various colors, and are quite the newest
things in the world of millinery.
Another bead novelty is a toque-turban
composed of large and small white coral
beads, the only trimming of this being
one huge conventional flower formed en-
tirely of white coral, which is set in the
very front of the toque.
On many of the simple morning tub
frocks the collar and cuffs are the soje
trimming. There are all sorts of arrange-
ments of these collars, some of which are
more on the order of a fichu instead of a
piain collar,
These fichu-like collars are generally
made of net or lawn and are arranged in
| folds around the neck opening of the
| frock, the ends fastening at the belt under
+ a buckle or rosette.
i
|
| The majority of bridesmaids’ frocks are
made up in corn-color, blue, mauve,cham-
! pagne or apricot tones, though the rule
| is that any light, delicate tone which the
bride may fancy is suitable for it. Picture
effects rather han jRrictly Jasiionale
, ones are sought for in such dresses, but
| these, of course, are made
. prevailing ideas in dress.
|" Just now all girl attendants’ dresses are
| short and narrow. They run to the ex-
tremely slim dress with per] a
trimming (either a band or em
i and seamless sleeves or those that close
about the arms snugly. Swan’sdown
| trims many of the paler-hued dresses.
—Harper's Bazar.
which
ito be employed as house decorations.
| Although only 400
, among He Sun Stunts y Sortel) Uni-
| versity, won 15 out of
| the society oF highest Eas. dn
"ing. What fica i
suffragettes in the sex
| For a spring salad slice Brazil nuts,
| broken paradise nuts or broken butter-
. nuts are delicious sprinkled over a
‘ salad that is dressed with a yagn
oil and vinegar. nuts are so rich
that they need little else besides
green to make a substantial dish.