5 3 gn "Bellefonte, Pa., November 3, 1911. | -— FOR YOU TO MEMORIZE. Do not drop the fruit you're eating, Neighbor mine, On the sidewalk, sewer, or grating, Neighbor mine: But lest you and 1 should quarrel, Listen to my little moral, Go and toss it in the barrel, Neighbor mine. Look! Whene'er you drop a paper, Neighbor mine, In the wind it cuts a caper, Neighbor mine; Down the street it madly courses, And should fill you with remorses, When you see it scare the horses, Neighbor mine. Paper cans were made for papers, Neighbor mine; Let's not have this fact escape us, Neighbor mine; And if you will lend a hand, Soon our city dear shall stand As the cleanest in the land, Neighbor mine. DISILLUSIONMENT. Hello, Zeke,” cried somebody from the by the school with em,” says he, “then | foun all vig after that, but there's a The Soul of the Dog. down there as I don’t know what he be up to if he sees you comin’ along th steers.” ” sheep and attacks his master. : ‘So you're the boy,’ says he. And then . he thinks a while and gods on again. ‘lI kinder thought so, and I'm beginning to wonder—' savagery. Fear plays an t part in the But for variety, New a country. A When the faithful shepherd-dogkills the, The States were uniforming their sol- as best they could in that summer , psychiolo- diery i say that, however fatal the dog's : of 1861—New York, Massachusettes and ; that, like | Pennsylvania usually in blue, the Ver- f suffering from ' monters in instincts, the instincts of the as benefit the Green Mountain boys. little wolf of India, the ancestor of the ' The one Western bri dog. At such times the mind of the dog ‘formed Army of the returns to the condition of primitive in gray throughout, not to be changed for y, turned up with emerald, in the newly came clad the blue until late in ber. ork city led the regiment of Fire paroxysms second — is not the only factor. During the atavic ' Zouaves had been quickly formed, as *“ ‘Oh, I guess father knows what he’s n',’ says I. ‘And you've got a long way Hind win hat | vent back and set down in m as some- how, as luck would have it, teacher didn’t or impulse the dog ceases to be a dog, and dashing in appearance as the first. Ab- nature, deep ee CEE Work Of | Dak rah Sohn Aan Nie cegoiet ia nature, te n- it r as thousands of years of civilization. Then, second in command, soon to become fa- terrified by some mental vision, or seized | mous as a corpse leader) marched forth by some dormant hereditary impulse, he at the head of a magnificent body of men, | ast me no more questions that day. | breaks the ties unitinghim to the master the color guard, nearly all seven-footers, ! "I'd ha’ given anything to put my arms | around them steers afore the man drove | "em off, but I just dassent—for I knowed I couldn't trust myself that far. | "That's nigh on sixty years ago now, ‘and I'm fellin’ kinder foolish about it yet.” : He raised his head and stared at some | point lying up on the hills beyond the | grain-covered fields. For a minute or | two neither of us spoke. Then he said: | “Of course, I knowed right along ‘twas | no use for me goin’ against father when | I the mind evolv. | he'd made up his mind." | tion lurk the instincts of carnage; the | "Why did your father do it?" I asked. ' instincts of a time when to kill was the { “He didn’t need the money, I know.’ necessity of life, and when, at the last “Oh, I guess "twas just this way—and I = desperate stage, the dog fell before the the right of might. h t suc perions . to return to his place on the hearthstone to sleep and to awake in the morning gay, caressing, and apparently innocent of evil. Perhaps it is the dim consciousness of his evil ancestors that ives the bravest m i i never ast him,” the old man answered. fury of a beast stronger than himself. hg a he | “When I come home that night, 1 didn’t | The natural impulse to give chase to the seen gliding mysteriously across the edge of the field that slong gently from the house to the road. little way in front of the man the gold-tipped horns of a team of oxen were bobbing slowly up and | down, now glimmering through the thin grass, now clearly visible above it. “Hello, Frank,” old farmer Curtis piped | © © aps oud, like to break in another back, stopping half-way between the barn | Pair 0 steers: and the house with a big milk-can in his | hands. “Been to the village?” “No,” drawled Frank; “but I guess I'll be goin’ to-morrow.” At that moment the gold-tipped horns vanished behind a wall of green leaves, and a second later the man was no longer to be seen. Still the old farmer stood | I'd growed more fond of "em than of any- | {say a word of the steers, and father feeing, and the desire of fight forits own | wasn't the man to speak first. But 1 sake are characteristic expressions of the | could see him watchin’ me out 0’ the cor- atavic instinct, the sudden loosing of the ner of his eye. And next morning I went | cruel instinct of the wolf, when the dog, to school, and still 1 didn’t say nothin’, called to defend his master against an {and so it went on for some weeks, I enemy, runs in with eyes starting from | guess, when father says to me one night: their sockets and with fur bristling, to set his teeth in friend and enemy alike. on .. Students of animal mentally cite the ‘I've broke one pair,” says I, lookin’ case of a dog whose character was so ‘hard at him. ‘And I'll never break an- changed by acute pain that his condition | other, if 1 live to be a hundred. amounted to madness. When in his | "That was the last word as ever passed crisis of agony he believed himself to be a pair since. You see, it wasn't that the | ynder the impression that men were his steers was took away irom me—though | enemies, he was ready to kill. : Such a phenomenon occursin the mind where he had stopped, gazing dreamily | {hing I can think of—but "twas that he'd | of the dog who kills the sheep or attacks into nothingness. “I think you're the only one around here that hasn't got a pair of oxen,” I said. “Them be steers Frank's drivin,” my host replied after a pause, speaking as if to nobody in particular. "And I've seen a finer pair only oncet in all my life.” “Why haven't you got a pair yourself?” 1 persisted, my curiosity piqued by a strange something in his manner. “Had]a pair oncet, and hain’t had no others since, and I'm goin’ on seventy- one now,” he said, moving toward me as if half lost in some dream. Then he sat down on one of the steps leading up to the back porch, placed the milk-can on the ground in front of him, and let a hand rest on either knee. The sunset wind brought a faint crunching sound from the direction in which the wagon with its team and driver had disappeared. | As long as it could be heard, the old man turned his head to catch it. “1 was only a little feller then,” he said when the silence around us was complete once more. “1 hadn't got through with school even, when my father says to me one day: ‘If you'll break in a pair o’ steers, I'll let you have 'em for your own.’ "Of course, my father was a good man —everybody said so—but he was kinder cold and hard. What he wanted had ter he done, and when he showed a favor, it lovked much bigger ‘an if it had come from somebody else. That there day he made me the happiest boy in this whole State. “When the steers come, they was black and white, and perfec'ly matched, taller than | was myself, and they'd long, | straight hoins with gilt knobs on the tips—just drivin’ by down there.” For a while he rubbed the white stub- ble on his chin in silence. Then he placed | his elbows on his knees, propped his head on his hands, and went on a little more thoughtfully than before. "They was the finest steers | ever seed, and I let nobody handle them but myself, | and I just growed to love 'em. | fed 'em and watered 'em with my own hands. | kep' 'em as shinin’ and smooth as could be. [drove 'em in and out, and talked to them just like they was brothers ©’ mine, and I'd rather ha' slep’ with em out in the medder orin the barn than in my own bed. And soon they minded every word I said, and I'd only to call ‘em and they'd come, and I never needed no stick to drive ‘em. “I guess I must ha’ had 'em close to a year, and "twas summer again, and I come home from school one day, when father says to me kinder offhand: “There's a man wants to buy them steers,’ ys he. . Fut thet steers be Se v " ‘He's willing ter pay mighty or ‘em, too, if he can have 'em right off,’ give father as if he hadn't heard me at all. " ‘But you said—' says I, and that was as far as [ got. “ “You're a fool,’ father rips out, speakin’ reel sharp, and then he says a little more quiet like: “Them ain't the only steers in world. “ ‘But,’ I tried for the last time, and then father looked as he useter when something didn't please him—just like stone, that was. And he says to me; ‘I Guess your mother wants some wood to get ry owed there'd be no use talk- ing to him when he spoke like that. “The next day I was settin’ in my Jer ticular place at school, which was where 1 could see out through the winder and clear up she road that ran by right out- side. I see a man coming along with a pair o’ black and white steers. And I see the sun shinin’ and blinkin' on the gilt knobs on their horns. “ “There's only one such pair 0’ steers ts,’ says I to myself. And with broke his promise. That I couldn't get his master. The violence of the atavic over. Somehow the world didn’t seem | animal feeling, the feeling of the wild quite the same since. | guess I've been | peast, is to kill, because for centuries he | about as well off as most people, but | jived by killing. At such times the feel- i the dog feels nothing | im destroy. The sheep- —and, less happily, to Scuthern marks- dog has been known to rise from his sleep men later—for all in a day the improvised at dead of night to do his work of mur-"' wooden barracks were thronged with fear of punishment. : by ages of civiliza- ' well known to the police, promptly ac- of his love, and becomes the criminal, all the scarlet fez and breeches ot the the killer of man, the cruel exponent of favorite troops of France. Zouave rig was by long odds the most pleasing to the popular eye in the streets of the big city eager lads seeking enlistment in the Zourve regiments. Baxter's in Philadel- phia, Farnsworth’s (Second Fire), Dur- yea's (Fifth New York), Bendix, Haw- kins’ and "Billy Wilson's” in New York, the last an aggregation of street Arabs, cepted more for municipal than national reasons, promptly mustered and then shipped to a sand spit in the gulf, as far as possible from New York and where they could do no harm to anybody. To cater still further to the love for the spectacular and the p’cturesque, still more distinctive regiments were author- ized—the Garibaldi Guard-—mainly Ital- rans, under Colonel D'Utassy, in a dress that aped the Bersaglieri; the D’Epineul Zouaves, French and would-be French- men, in the costliest costume yet devised, and destined to be abandoned before they were six months older; still another French battalion, also in Algerian cam- paign rie—"Les Enfants Perdus.” lost Children indeed, once they left New York and fell in with the campaigners of Uncle | between us of steers. And I never had | the victim of an attack from men, then, Sam. Then came the Chasseurs, in very natty and attractive dress, worn like the others, lost their identity of the univer- sal, most unbecoming. vet eminently ser- viceable blue flannel blouse and light- blue kersey trousers, with the utterly ug- ly forage cap and stout brogans of the Union army.—From the Volunteer Sol- dier of 1851, bv General Charles King, U. like them steers Frank was | somehow I've always felt things might | ha’ been different—" | "Sakes alive, if you ain't talking of | them steers again,” broke in his wife, as | she emerged from the kitchen wiping her | hands on her apron. "Here I been waitin’ for that milk—and, my land, if I don't believe you think more o' them steers than you've ever thought o’ me!” | The old man rose with a grin on his | face, gave his trousers a hitch, and pick- | ed up the milk-can again. | “No,” he replied, shaking his head. “No | —if you'd up and die on my hands, I'd | never have another—" his wife, withdrawing into the kitchen. “Yes, that's what father said, too,” | mused the farmer, speaking once more | to nobody in particular. “But I guess he i meant it kinder different—and, as I said | afore, they was just a pair o' steers, but | when they was gone, the whole world | was changed for me, and it ain't never | been the same again.” i Once more he let his glance sweep the | wide fields and the circle of blue, forest- | crowned hills bevond them. At last he : said almost in a whisper: | "What I'd like to know is how life 1 might ha’ looked to me if father hadn't | sold them steers!” | Then he turned and walked slowly into i the kitchen, still shaking his gray head.— ! By Edwin B. Jorkmad, in Collier's. A Shower of Manna. Some time ago there was forwarded to ! Paris for analysis from Asiatic Turkey a specimen of an edible substance that fell during a copious shower of rain in the vicinity of Mardin and Diarbekir. It was ! stated that the substance in falling had . been plentifully sprinl:led over a consid- | erable area of country. The inhabitants came out and sagery gathered up the substance and with it made excellent bread. The “manna”was floury, palatable, and nutritious. The Parisian chemists say that the sam- ple of the “manna” sent them was in the form of small globules about the size of millet seeds, and that the mass, yellowish on the outside, was perfectly white with- in. It was pronounced to be a vegetable substance of the lichen family, scientifi- cally known as lecariora esculenta. | This lichen is frequently found in the | most arid mountains of the desert of Tar- tary, where the soil is calcareous and gypseous, and grows on the ground amid the es from which it is to be distin- | gui only by the closest scrutiny. Con- ‘ siderable quantities of lichen are found ! also in the desert of Turkestan and in i other parts of western Asia. Parrot, the faveler, Drought home a | quantity of this substance as long as 1828. T had fallen in a shower in A ne and was said to have covered the ground to a depth of several inches. Cattle ate it eagerly, and the inhabitants gathered it in quantities. It is regarded as likely that this lichen, abundant in the country where it fell had been drawn up by a water-spout—not an infrequent phenomenon there—and, after being carried by a Y3porous wind at a high altitude, had fallen to again in a rain shower. Nail 106 Years Old. A 90 penny cut nail that is just 106 years old is some curiosity and it is now in the on of L. D. Gulich, of 511 21st avenue, Altoona, a , who thirty-one Seats ago helped to remodel the Elias Howe house in Philipsburg, when that residence had weathered the , winters for seventy-five years. The nail + was manufactured in Bellefonte, which “You're a fool, Zeke Curtis,” snapped | the earth | hereabou that I up and tells the teacher I want a was the first nail works in Pennsylvania. drink from the bucket outside. The man The iron was in those -days melted and with the steers come up right then, and | run into pigs when it was cut into nails. as he sees me he stops and looks at me | This ar spike was found by Mr. kinder curious, and the steers stop and | Gulich, driven into a piece of hemlock look sideways at me, too. | and when first driven it would hoid an | ings attaching him to domesticity, to civ- i ilization, to his master, and to his duty, | ore temporarily lost, to be found only ! when the crisis has passed. The same phenomenon is seen too oft’ i en in humanity, when the untamed sav- | agery of the brute rules; when with | nerves exasperated by fury, by fear, or | by greed, the man falls to the level of the beast of prey. In time of peril by ' fire, and at times of other public excite- ment, many show the instincts of the lowest ages of primitive barbarity. |" The dog is like the man; he is what | man has made and is making him; he has all the feelings—good and bad—of his master; but he can dissimulate even to hypocrisy. The faculty most highly developed in the dog is the emotion of tenderness. It is unperceived, all too often, because dogs have but a feeble means of expressing their feelings, and because the majority of masters care little how they feel, but he who can interpret their attitudes, their gestures, the pantomine of the tails mov- ed by all the springs of the spinal nerves; he who can read the pathetic language of their imploring eyes—knows all their grief, It is impossible to imagine any- | thing more acute or more profound than | the hopeless longing of the animal for | human sympathy. | The dog is a mass of vibrating nerves; | nerves so tense and so hard worked that | ten years is the average length of the | useful life of the species. With few ex- | ceptions dogs are broken down by the ex- | cessive strain of their nerves. The dog is the victim of his emotions; he pleads incessantly for the love of man; his life is a long current of effort and of anguish, broken for brief spaces by the joy occa- sioned by a kind word. He is timorous- ly gay, amiable, easilv amused; he tries to take things as they come; but under his tremulous complacence lie deep feel- ing and undying memory. The Land of Chestnuts. The home of chestnuts is in France, where are as common as beans in Boston. such an extensive scale are they cultivated in the French Republic that in one factory alone, at Lyons, there are handled over twenty-five million pounds every year. The marrons are, of course, the luxury, but among the poorer classes the smaller chestnuts, or chataignes, are eaten. The chestnuts are peeled and boiled ! ; then thinly with vanilla, and prepared for pment. It has more than once been suggested that the United States should go exten- sively into chestn it being held that, as sugar is much here than in Fi would rance, the candied product undersell the French article. i fs or other intoxicant and no opi caine or other narcotic. It is 75 £3 “ ‘Where'd you get them steers?’ says I ' even ton before pulling out. The Elias to the man. “ ‘Up the road yonder,’ says he, keepin’ medicine for woman and woma . Howe house was one of the first houses S. V., in the American Review of Reviews for June. Real Estate Transfers. W. E. Hurley, sheriff. to Elizabeth G. French, Oct, 11, 1911, tract of land in Howard Twp.; $4305. Elizabeth Smith to John Augustus Ar- mor, Oct. 16. 191], tract of iand in Belle- fonte; $1700. John W. Dale et ux, to Amanda Moth- ersbaugh, Sept. 16, 1911, tract of land in College Twp.; $2450. Luther M. Houser et ux, to Nannie H. Ailiman, Oct. 18, 1911, tract of land in College Twp.; $1. Nannie Houser Ailman et al, to Luther M. Houser, Oct. 18, 1911, tract of land in Ferguson Twp.; $1. L. H. Musser et ux to J. W. Bruss, Ju- ly 18, 1911, tract of land in Huston Twp.; Sl. W. E. Hurley, sheriff, to David Cham- bers, Oct. 11, 1911, tract of land in Miles- burg; $100. G. Fred Musser, Admr., Mingle, Oct. 19, Bellefonte; $1200. Harry L. Bower et al, to John Bower, Oct. 11, 191}, tract of land in Howard Twp.; $650. Walter J. Dumm to Clarence L. Dumm, Sept. 1. 1911, tract of land in Walker Twp.; $1425. John C. Lingle et ux, to Henry Lingle, Sept 21, 1911, tract of land in Penn Twp.; Abrum E. Halm et ux, to John V. Bow- er, Oct. 6, 1911, tract of land in Philips- burg; $1400. Anna H. Hoy et al, to Charles Wesley | Korman, Oct. 14, 1911, tract of land in | Boggs Twp.; $589.75. to Albert C. 1911, tract of land in Abraham Baird to Amanda Horner, | Twp.; SL. . Roland Lucas et ux, to Wm. H. Steele, | Oct. A. C. Leathers et al, to M. C. Gephart. | Oct. 2, 1911, tract of land in State Gol- | lege; $1. . ~S. T. Williams et al, to Aaron Steele, Aug. 12, 1911, tract of land in South Phil- ipsburg; $25. Edward J. Gehret to Marietta Miller, Seps. 9 1911, tract of land in Bellefonte; $1600. i i | You take a bath for the outside of your ulations and dead body to remove accum matter. Does not the inside of the body need an occasional think you, to help rid it of effete mater- | strefifthions she builds up he m same in res which follow a bath, Nigorating use of Medical very.” ¥ x o 2 w i g o a = 2 g o g a a Marriage Licenses. Harry J. Markle, of State College, and Anna M. Reed, of Benore. Willis B. Bathgate, of Lemont, and Amelia M. Neese, of Bellefonte. Wendel L. Bartholomew, of Howard, and Katie M. Kemery, of Castena. Rev. Frank P. Fisher, of Petersburg, and Mary Edith Buck, of Warriors Mark. W. H. Kinto and Grace L. Clark, bo of Manns Choice. . “A word in season how good it is.” That word in season is just what is spoken | built in Philipsburg in the good old days his eyes still on me. ‘And I paid as much A when Mr. Philips who founded the town, as seventy-five dollars for 'em. That's a was living.—Altoona Times. pretty big price for a pair o' young steers,’ i What Did She Mean? “ You got 'em cheap at that,’ says I. | — “f gues | did,’ says he. ‘If only Iget “I'm quite a near neighbor of yours ‘em home all right.’ \ now,” said Mr. Bore; “I'm living just * ‘Oh, they'll go along all right,’ says IL | across the bay.” “ ‘Well,’ says he, ‘the man Ibought 'em | “Indeed,” replied Miss Smart, of says to me as I was goin’: "If you get | you'll drop in some day.” “1 hope 1 which has ever been prepared. Deduction. “It is no wonder the police fail to get knowledge of fights.” ny so?” “Well, a mill is a cent, isn't it?” “Yes, but what of that?” “Doesn't it take ten mills to make one scent. by Dr. Pierce's Common Sense Medical Adviser. The word it speaks may be a word of counsel or of caution, a word of wisdom or of warning, but it is always a pais word and practical. This great of 1008 pages and 700 illustrations is sent free on receipt of stamps to pay expense of mailing only. 21 one- cent stamps for book in paper covers or 31 stamps for cloth bi ng. Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, The Soldiers Who Went to War in "61. ' ' The Tool He Used. “1 was throwing up dirt from an ex- eavation in the pavement one day,” said ap cld laborer, “when a little old chap with white hair stopped to look | on. 1 was as big as two of him. After a minute or two I rested on my shovel and looked up at him, Said I: “If you had to do work with a shove! for veur liviug you'd starve to deatli before you could make a trench deep enough to bury you in’ “I thought thar was a smart thing to say. and | laughed. Then he answered me. with a soit of drawl. “1 might -starve—as—you—say,’ he said, ‘and yet I-have-—-a—trade—in which | use—a-—tool very much—iike- yours. In fact--muay people—who—~ work at my trade—use--the—tool—to— shove! dirt and filth—with--as--you-do | —wih- yours. This—is—the—tool.’ “He handed me a sievi pen, “‘Is it a joke: I asked. “Jt—is—- 2a —t{0ol—io —-make— them with, he nowded. “That ix -part—of— my—trad:. My name—is—Twaln—Mark Twain. “I have th: pen yet.” conciinded the laborer, “and ro dirt was ever shoveled with it."—=New York Globe, Morz Than Gratuitous. Apropo: of the custom of sone hos- tesses to inviie professional artistes to their house ii: the expectation thai they will amuse (Deir guosie free of charge. a story is told of Mme. Berthe Bady, the famous Puarvician artiste, who was invited to n «ocial gathering and asked by the hostess to recite. She consent- ed, aud then in order that there might be no mistaize about the matter. the hostess said: “How kind it is of rou to work for us in this friendly manaer!” The empluisis ou the word “friendly” was so marked as to show clearly enouzh that the service was to be gra tuitous, After the recitation was over Mme. Bady took a silver card tray from a footman, and, imitating the musicians in the cafes chantants, she made a tour of the drawing room and collected whatever contributions were offered, and they were substantial ones. Then she banded them to her hostess and left the fouse, Lightning's Queer Ways. As every one knows, it is dangerous to stand near a tree during a thunder- storm, but if any one is so foolish as to do it he will do well to lean against the tree. If he does this the charge goes in at his shoulder, burning it, and then passes down the skin along the middle of the back. Arrived at the legs, it may run along one or both. It will seriously burn the knees and other prominent parts, get out through the stockings or hore a hole through the boots or destroy the hoots altogether. But if hie saads near a tree or wall without beinz in contact the stream of lightning may fump to the lead bones and canse ns<iant death, If it doesn't do this it will probably burn the hair and travel over the skin of the head, going down the front of the body or getting inside it and doing terrible damage. : Breyity. Robert Louis Stevenson was a close student of style and has left more | than ane interesting discussion of the technique ef writing In a letter to R. A. M. Stevenson, dated October. 1883, he says: “Phere i= but one art—to omit! Oh, if 1 knew how to omit 1 would ask no other knowledge! A man who knew how to omit would make an ‘Iliad’ of a daily paper.” To men engaged in editorial writ- | Sarah B. Kline to Andrew I. Musser, | ing (which in America is the art of | Oct, 20, 1911, tract of land in Aaronsburg; | Making ideas cffective before a vast | $1 | audience) and to young men and wom- en in college who are planning to en- Sept. 22, 1911, tract of land in Spring 16, 1911, tract of land in Spring | is the kernel, the true potential comet. ter journalism we recommend that the above few words of Stevenson's be committed to memory and put into practice,—Collier's Weekly. A Comet’s Three Parts. A comet has three parts. The nu- cleus is the bright, starlike point which Around this is spread the coma, a sort of luminous fog, shading from the nucleus and forming with it the head. He wos a slow speaking man | A —— FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. Leisure for men of business and business for men of leisure, would cure many complaints. — Mrs. Thra'e. A girl with en assortment of jabots and frills should study the colors most be- coming to her and fashion a number of | 0dd tailor bows and knots of velvet and ribbon to pin at her throat as a sort of fastening for the neckwear. She will be | surprised at the smart effect given by the | touch of color. i One who wishes ’s to gain in flesh should | eat slowly, chewing everything until it | simply disappears, and with it plenty of ! cream, butter and olive oil should be taken. The pretty fashion of having a touch , of fur has been revived. | The simplest trimming on a black hat is made of wired of white tulle, the | rather thick wash tulle that dressmakers ! and milliners will widely accept this sea- son. If one has a knack of twisting bows into graceful shapes, then this trimming lies at your hands ready to place in a be- ' coming shape. True, the idea seemed done to death abroad this year, but we have seen little of it in America, and it will make a strong appeal to the woman who wants a smart hat that is not expensive and who would like to change the trimming as the winter advances. The novel and popular trimming for fur hats is foliage and flowers made out of thick colored worsteds, the kind that is used for knitting. Huge roses of rasp- berry red and deep purple are mixed in with green worsted leaves and placed in a wreath around a motor bonnet of fur. These are also used on hats of scratch felt and velour. They are considered quite the thing for the morning, and if your taste leads you to one of these most becoming and convenient affairs of crush- ed velour or felt, do have one or two worsted roses on it with their coarse green leaves as a background. You will be in the fashion and you will | like your hat. Raveled silk twisted into the semblance of fur forms a popular trimming for hats; it is used on afternoon ones more than the collapsible velour ones. And it is es- | pecially smart on the large soft hats of white suede that are lined with black suede, Gold and silver fringe is used to edge caps or to mingle with fur or to trim bows. Only young girls should attempt , this unless the fringe is put well up on | the crown and does not come near the | face. If you want a really smart-looking rosette for a simple hat, make it of bul- lion fringe mounted on canvas; you will find = ornamental and quite a good touch. Every hat that looks like fur is not i made of fur; remember that. There is a | new material brought out by the manu- facturers called taupe velour, which is made to exactly resemble moleskin. It !is in the same color and has the same | stamping. It is used for trimming, for hats, and for separate wraps. There are si.iriwaist boxes galore, in- numerable dress chests and many im- provised receptacles for use in the wom- an's room Lut the latest novelty is the | result of an ingenious brain which con- ceived the possibilities of having a dress boy, full length, to match the hardwood floor in her room. A cheap frame was constructed of pine, lined threughout with white oilcloth, the edge glued on the outside. This was | covered with linoleum, a clever imitation | of oak in two shades. It was glued to the outside and the raw «dges were covered with tan leather strips, held in place with brass studs. The hinges and lock were of brass. Two stout straps, were tacked to the inside of the lid making a good receptacle for holding two parasols, says an exchange. Ball-bearing casters com- | pleted the dress box and the owner paid ' much less for this treasure than a fancy | one would cost at any store. 1 The "Srouchmeter’ is the latest inven- | tion of Parisan psychologists. All that is required to make one is to | take a scrap of paper and write in the (order of their importance the various | causes that one has had in one’s life for ng crabbed and morose. Whenever ' one's di tion is bad the list is to be | consulted to see if it is worth while to be | disagreeable. The folly of being ill- | tempered at a trifling incident when | death of a friend or a serious illness is ( Jecillod by the list, immediately is ap- paren Many thousands of Parisians are said to be employing this device, and observ- | ers declare that never before were so | many smiling faces seen on the boule- 7 | Still beyond is the delicate tail, stretch. | vards as now. i § ‘ ' ing away into space. And this to the world in general is the comet itself, though always the least dense of the whole. Sometimes entirely wanting or hardly detectible, the tail is again an extension millions of miles In length. Alihongh usually a single brush of light, comets have been seen with no fewer than six tails. Shea~*~ In Instaliments. Sheep are put to double use in the northern part of India, in the Hima- layas. They are driven from market to market with the wool still growing, and in each village the owner shears | as much wool as he can sell there and loads the sheared sheep with the grain he receives in exchange. After his flock has been sheared he turns it homeward, each animal carrying a bag of grain. Got His Reward. Old Maid—But why should a great strong man like you be found begging? Wayfarer—Dear lady, it is the only | profession 1 know in which a gentle | man cau address a besutiful woman introduction. — London without an Sketch. Transferred Wealth. “How are you getting along in the law business, old man?” “I have one client.” “Is he rich?" “He was." — Boston Transeript, It is better to find excuses for others ; than for ourselves. i i | Baked Ham.—Choose a small, thin- | skinned ham and scrub well. Put into a | kettle, cover with cold water to which is { added one cup molasses. Bring to a boil a me a ba move from water a a {pan. Trim off rind and some fat, leav- . ing a layer half an inch thick. Stick ful } Beit ves, cover thickly with datk brown sugar, moisten one cup sherry, ' white wine or cider. Place in a moder- ate oven and bake slowly for two hours. | : : g { : oven and less time in the water, as itis less likely to drop apart, in which case it is extremely difficult to carve. Honey N t.—Put into a saucepan stones. Peel and cut up four away the white inner skin ie gre the rinds of two. Pulp them as you have the lums. Mix in four pounds of sugar and il all together for half an hour, stirring burning. Put into used instead of plums. often to Jrevemt ; glasses and seal. Crabapples may be vr ~~
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers