pe 8
Sr \{
The Girl a
Horse and
a Dog
By
FRANCIS LYNDE
Phe
a» &
Copyright by Charles Scribner Sons
(Continued).
SYNOPSIS.
re.
CHAPTER 1.—Under his grandfather's
will, Stanford Broughton, society idler,
finds his share of the estate, valued at
something like $440,000, lies in a *'safe re-
pository,” latitude and longitude de-
scribed, and that is all. It may be identi-
fled by the presence nearby of a brown-
haired, blue-eyed girl, a piebald horse,
and a dog with a split face, half black
and half white. Stanford at first regards
the bequest as a joke, but after considera-
ton sets out to find his legacy.
CHAPTER I1.—On his way to Denver,
the city nearest the meridian described
in his grandfather's will, Stanford hears
from a fellow traveler a story having to
éo with a flooded mine.
CHAPTER II1.—Thinking things over,
he begins to imagine there may be some-
thing in his grandfather's bequest worth
while, his idea finally centering on the
possibility of a mine, as a ‘safe reposi-
tory.” Recalling the narrative on the
train, he ascertains that his fellow trav-
eler was a mining engineer, Charles Bul-
lerton. Bullerton refuses him informa-
tion, but from other sources Broughton
learns enough to make him proceed to
Placerville, in the Red desert.
CHAPTER 1V.—On the station platform
at Atropia, just as the train pulls out,
Stanford sees what appear to be the iden-
tical horse and dog described in his
father’s will. Impressed, he leaves
@ train at the next stop, Angels, There
he finds that Atropla was originally
Placerville, his destination. Unable to
secure a conveyance at once to take him
to Placerville, Broughton seizes a con-
struction car and escapes, leaving the im-
pression on the town marshal, Beasley,
that he is slightly demented.
APTER V.—Pursued, he abandons
the car, which is wrecked, and escapes on
foot. in the darkness, he is overtaken
vy & girl on horseback, and THE dog.
After he explains his presence, she in-
¥ites him to her home, at the Old Cinna-
bar mine, to meet her father.
CHAPTER VI.—Broughton’s hosts are
Hiram Twombly, caretaker of the mine,
and his daughter Jeanie. Seeing the girl,
Stanford is satisfied he has located his
. property, but does not reveal his identity.
CHAPTER VIL—Next morning, with
Hiram, he visits the mine. Hiram asks
him to look over the machinery, and he
does so, glad of an excuse to be near
Jeanie, in whom he has become inter-
ested, and he engages in the first real
work he has ever done.
CHAPTER VIIL.—Broughton and Hiram
get the pumps atarted, but are unable to
make an impression on the water. Bul-
lerton, apparently an old friend of the
Twomblys, visits the mine. He offers
to drain {t in consideration of Brough-
ton’s giving hm fifty-one per cent of the
property. tanford refuses. Then Buller-
ton offers to buy the mine outright for
$50,000. It had cost Broughton's grand-
father more than half a million. Stan-
ford again refuses.
CHAPTER IX.—Jeanie cautions Brough-
ton against selling the mine, under any
circumstances, and, apparently in a spirit
of mischief, allows him to kiss her, After
a conversation with Daddy Hiram,
Broughton decides he will stick to the
property.
CHAPTER X.—Next day, during Stan-
ford’s temporary absence from the mine,
an enemy, thout doubt Bullerton,
wrecks the pumping machinery. Brough-
ton decides to have it out with him next
day.
CHAPTER XI1.—In the morning he finds
Bullerton and Jeanie have disappeared,
apparently eloped. He also discovers that
his deed to the mine has been stolen, and
as it has not been recorded, he has no
proof of ownership. Mysterious actions
of the dog cause Hiram and Broughton
to take the trail in search of Jeanie.
CHAPTER XIL—They find Jeanie’s
ony, abandoned, but no trace of the girl
When they get back to the cabin, Buller-
ton is there, apparently awaiting their
return,
CHAPTER XIIL.—Believing Jeanie to
have gone with Bullerton, the sight of
the man is too much for Broughton, and
he uses him roughly. Bullerton denies
knowing the whereabouts of Jeanle.
Broughton orders him off his property,
and he departs vowing vengeance. Satis-
fled Bullerton means mischief, Broughton
and Hiram fortify themselves in the
mine shafthouse and prepare for a siege.
Bullerton comes wth a crowd of desper-
adoes and on their refusal to vacate, be-
gins an attack.
At the halt in the glade one of the
party—Bullerton, we guessed it was—
broke a branch from a pine, stripped
the twigs from it, and made it a flag-
staff for his white handkerchief. Un-
der this flag of truce he and two of his
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Daddy and | Were Eating When We
Saw the Army Coming.
men came on, leaving their guns be-
hind. There was a climb of about
thirty feet, maybe, coming up from
the bench to the ledge upon which *h
| out-o’-works down in Angels.
mine buildings stood, so we got a fair-
ly good look at the peace party before
it came within talking distance. Bul-
lerton still had a slight touch of the
wry-neck, and the devil-may-cere
jauntiness which had been his chiet
‘characteristic as a guest of the Tworz-
blys had been wiped from his face and
manner like a picture from a black-
board.
As the three of them topped the rise
in the ore road I reached behind me
and got one of the Winchesters.
“That's near enough!” I called out.
“Do your talking from there, if you've
anything to sey.”
The delegation halted and Bullerton
took a paper from his pocket.
«I'm serving legal notice upon you,
Broughton,” he said, waving the paper
at me, “and I have two witnesses here,
as the law requires. I represent the
Cinnabar Mining company of Cripple
Creek. You are trespassing on our
property and I am making a formal
demand for possession.”
«So that's the new wrinkle, is it 1
laughed. “I was hoping you might
spring something a little more original.
How are you going to prove owner-
ship?”
“he burden of proof isn’t on us;
it's on you!” he ripped out. “You
haven't a shadow of claim to this
mine. I've got your so-called deed
right here”—and he shook that at us.
“J's a forgery; a clumsy, childish
forgery that wouldn't impose upon a
blind man! We can send you to the
rock pile on the strength of it if we
want to!”
Since he had stolen the deed out of
my pocket, I thought, of course, that
he was just bluffing about its being a
forgery. He must have known per-
fectly well that it wasn’t. But Daddy
was whispering in my ear as he sat
behind me. Something like this:
“Gosh-all-Friday, Stannie, he’s got you
goin’! He's made a copy o’ the deed
and throwed the ’riginal away—burnt
it up, 'r somethin’!”
“You have it all your own way, Bul-
lerton—or you think you have,” I told
him; and if I didn’t get all of the self-
confidence into the words that I tried
to, I am persuaded that he didn’t know
the difference. “I might even concede
that you have everything but the mine
itself. If you want that, you may
come and take it; but you'll permit me
to say that when you break into this
shaft-house there will be fewer people
alive on Cinnabar mountain than there
are at the present moment. I shall
quite possibly be one of the dead ones,
but before I go out 1 shall do my best
to make you another.”
“All right,” he snapped back;
“you're speaking for yourself, and
that's your privilege. But how about
you, Twombly? This is no quarrel of
yours. Suppose you go over yonder to
your cabin and stay out of the fight.
Nobody wants to hurt you.” E
That put it pretty squarely up to
me, too, so I turned to the old man at
my side.
“It’s good advice, Daddy,” I said;
“and this isn’t your quarrel. You'd
better duck while you can.”
Daddy Hiram made no reply at all
to me; didn't pay any attention to me.
Instead, he stood up on the door-sill
and shook his fist at Bullerton.
«I been lookin’ for you and your
kind of a crowd for a year back,
Charley Bullerton, and drawin’ pay
for doin’ it!” he shrilled. “Stannie,
here, says if you want this mine you
can come and take ir, and, by gum-
mies, I say them same identical
words!”
“All right,” said Bullerton again,
“But it’s only fair to say that we out-
number you six to one, and we've ger
the law, and a few deputy sheriffs, on
our side. You two haven't as much
show as a cat in heli without claws,
and when the circus is over, yo:
both go to jail, if there’s enough left
of you to stand the trip.” Then, as he
was turning to go he flipped the deed
Into the air so that it fell at our feet.
“You may have that,” he sneered.
“We'd like nothing better than to have
you produce it in court.”
It didn’t seem just fitting to let him
have the last word, so I pitched a
small ultimatum of my own after him
as he herded his two scoundrelly look-
ing “witnesses” into the downward
road.
“One thing more, Bullerton,” I called
out. “Your flag of truce holds only
until you get back to your army. If
you or any of your men are in sight of
Cinnabar property ten minutes after
you reach your camp, we open fire.”
Since the truce was thus definitely
ended, we retired into our fortress and
put up the bars. As we were closing
the doors and making everything snug
I asked Daddy what kind of human
timber Bullerton was likely to have
in his army, and if there were any
chance that his boast about having
deputy sheriffs in the crowd was to be
taken at its face value,
“There's nothin’ to the deputy brag.
Ike Beasley is the chief deputy for
this end o' the county, and he'd be
here himself if that was a posse com-
mytaters down yonder. As for what he
has got, there's no tellin’. Most likely
he’s picked up a fistful 0 toughs and
There's
always plenty o' drift o' that kind
hangin’ ‘round a minin’ camp.”
“Fighters?” I queried.
“Oh, yes; I reckon so—if fightin’
comes easier than workin.”
With the doors shut and barred I
climbed up on our breastwork to bring
my eyes on a level with one of the high
window holes. The ten-minute ultima-
tum interval had come te an end, but
the raiders were making no move to
vacate the premises. On the contrary,
their cooking fire was now burning
briskly and they were apparently mak-
Ing leisurely preparations to eat. It
fairly made me schoolboy furious to
see those fellows calmly getting their
noon meal ready and ignoring my
warning,
“Hand me up one of those dynamite
cartridges!” 1 barked at Daddy Hi-
ram; and when he complied, I lighted
a match and stuck it to the split end
of the fuse. There was a fizz, a cloud
of acrid smoke to make me turn my
face away and cough, and then a
frenzied yell from the old man.
“Throw It — good-gosh-to-Friday —
throw it!”
1 contrived to get it out through the |
window opening in some way, and lost
my balance on the earth bags doing it,
SALLE
LARA ESTS
2 4
“Throw It!
Good - Gosh - to - Friday!
. Throw It!”
tumbling awkwardly into Daddy's
arms as I fell. Coincident with the
tumble, the stout old shaft-house
rocked to the crash of an explosion
that was still echoing from the cliffs
of the mountain above when the sour
fumes of the dynamite rose to float in
at the window holes.
“@3-good gizzards! stuttered Daddy
Hiram, “did you reckon I cut them
fuses long enough so ’t you could hold
‘em in your hands and watch ‘em
burn?”
“What do I know about fuses?” I
asked, grinning at him. Then I mount-
ed the breastwork again and looked
out, prepared to see the entire land-
scape blown into shreds.
Aside from a few sheets of corru-
gated iron torn from the roof of the
time from the opposite direction, and
it, also. tore through the roof. i
“Got us surrounded,” Daddy grim-
aced, when a third shot came from still
another point of the compass; and
within the next fifteen minutes Buller-
ton's demonstration was made com-
plete. The shots, fired one at a time,
and at intervals of a minute or So,
came from all three of the exposeu
sides of the building, and the time
elapsing between the ripping crashes
on the roof and the crack of the guns
told us that the marksmen were all
well beyond the range of our Win-
chesters, even if we could have seen |
them—which we couldn’t. |
Bullerton had evidently given his |
men orders to aim at the roof, for it |
. was only a stray bullet now and then
' that came through the walls.
| became obvious,
|
1
|
After a!
time the purpose of the bombardment |
Bullerton seemed to
have absorbed the idea that he could’
i break our nerve—wear us out. After |
| the first fusillade the shots came at | Ralph Luse assistant installing offi-
' futervals of maybe five minutes; just
often enough to keep us on the strain;
i and 1 don’t mind admitting that the
"object was handsomely gained. I cant
. speak for Daddy Hiram or the dog,
but at the end of the first hour 1 was
- little
better than a bunch of raw
| nerves. i
As all days must, this wearisome :
first day came to an end at last, and
with the coming of dusk the bombard- |
. could
ment stopped—with our roof looking
like a sieve.
But after darkness had settled down
we were made to feel in another way
how acutely helpless we were. We
see nothing, hear nothing.
Though we knew we were surrounded,
1
adjacent ore shed. the landscape ap- |
peared to be fair'- intact and still
with us.
the silence and solitude were unbroken,
and the strain was greater than that :
of a pitched battle. If we were to get
any sleep at all, a night watch could
be maintained by only one of us at a!
time; and with our utmost vigilance
_a surprise attack would be the easiest
thing in the world for Bullerton to pull
off. :
There are no night noises in the high
altitudes, unless the wind happens to
be blowing; no frogs or tree-toads, no
insects; and the silence was fairly
deafening—and maddening.
Not wishing to strike a match to de-
termine the exact end of my watch |
period, I stuck it out, meaning to give
Daddy good measure. So I think it:
must have been somewhere around ten
o'clock when the collie woke with a
start, jumped up, took the kinks out of
his back with a little whining yawn, :
and trotted to the door—the one open-
ing toward the cabin across the dump
head. Secrewing an eye to one of Dad-
dy’s auger-bored loopholes, I tried to
fathoin the outer darkness, which was
only a degree or so less Egyptian than
But down on the bench be- :
low, the lately kindled cooking fire |
was burning in solitary confinement {
The raiders, to i
peared.
man, had disap
CHAPTER XIV.
Applied Hydraulics.
“They've skipped.” I reported to
Daddy, as I climbed down from the
earth sacks, “and that shows us the
quality of the humanity stuff we have
to deal with. Bullerton will never get |
that bunch to rush us in the open.”
“That's something gained, anyway,”
said the old man; “and ever’ li'l’ bit
helps. But if they ain’t goin’ to take
it standin’ up, we got to look out for
Injin doin’s; the snake-in-the-grass
kind. Charley Bullerton ain't goin’ to
quit none so easy.”
Nevertheless, for an hour or more,
it looked as if the jumpers had quit.
In due time the cooking fire in the lit-
tle glade burned out, and no one
came to rekindle it. Around and about
the solemn silence of the mountain
wilderness ringed us in, and it was
hard to realize that the siege had not
been abandoned—though we knew well
enough it hadn't.
We put in the time as best we could,
tinkering up our defenses and trying
to provide for all the contingencies.
For one thing, Daddy found a big
auger and used it to bore loopholes at
various places through the wall, by
means of which we could command the
approaches to the shaft-house on two
of the three exposed sides. Eastward-
ly, the blacksmith shop intervened be-
tween us and the boiler shed—it was
built as a lean-to against that side of
the shaft-house—and in that direction
we were necessarily blind. The fourth
side, as I have said, faced an abrupt
cliff of the mountain, a rocky wall
rising to maybe twice the height of
the buildings and almost overhang-
ing them. At its summit this cliff
tapered off into a steep upward slope,
bare of timber; hence we were com-
paratively secure from attack in that
quarter.
As to provisioning we were not so
badly off. Daddy Hiram, well used in
his long experience as a prospector to
figuring upon the longevity of “‘grub-
stakes,” estimated that, what with the
canned stuff, part of a sack of flour,
and another of cornmeal, we could live
for a week, though the cooking was
going to be rather inconvenient. For
a fire we should have to resort to the
forge in the blacksmith shop, and the
shop was nothing but an open-cracked
shed, as I have described it, entirely
indefensible if the raiders should con-
clude to rush it.
In the fulness of time the period of
suspense came to an end, and we were
given audible proof that Bullerton had
finally made his “dispositions,” as an
army man would say. The announce-
ment came in the form of a rifle bullet
ripping through the roof of the shaft-
house as if the stout iron roofing had
been so much paper.
“The fun’s a-beginnin’,” said Daddy;
and the words were hardly out of his
mouth before another bullet came this
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. growling.
that of the shaft-house interior.
Though I could see nothing suspi-
cious it was very evident that the dog
could hear something. He had his nose
to the crack under the door and was
1 quieted him and listened
Something was going on, either inside
te of the cabin or back of it; in the dead
silence 1 could distinguish a low mur-
mur of voices and, a moment later, a
! sound like that which would be made
by the cautious opening of one of the
sliding windows. While I still had my
eye to the peep-hole a jet of flame
spurted from the dark bulk of the cab
in and simultaneously a bullet tore
through the shaft-house rcof. The
raiders had captured our outworks.
The report and the bullet clatter
aroused Daddy Hiram, and when I
turned he was at my elbow.
“Done crope up on us, have they,
son?’ he said in his usual unruffled
manner. Then: “Maybe this is just a
sort o’ false notion over here. S’pose
you try and get a squint at things over
on the blacksmith-shop side, Stannie.”
1 stumbled across to the other door,
taking the collie with me. I could see
‘nothing in that direction; less than
nothing, since the lean-to shop build-
ing cut off what little light the stars
gave. But the black darkness didn't
hamper Barney's ears or his nose, and
his eagerness to get back to the real
battle front was a good proof that
there was as yet nothing stirring on
our side of things.
Groping my way back to Daddy 1
found that he had one of the Winches-
ters and semed to be trying to fit a
ramrod to the barrel. When I finally
made out what he was doing I found
that he had thrust a piece of heavy
wire into the gun-barrel and was im-
paling one of the dynamite cartridges
on its projecting end.
“Li't skyrocket,” he chuckled; then,
with quaint humor: “You stand by
with a match, Stannie, and let's see
what-all’s goin’ to happen. When I
say the word, you stick your match to
the fuse.”
Heavens! maybe I didu’t enjoy a de-
lightful little spasm as I got a flash-
light mental picture of that old man
fumbling around with a lighted cart-
ridge at the muzzle of his gun, trying
to poke cartridge and gun-barrel
through a hole in the door that couldn't
possibly have been over two and a
half inches in diameter—and in the
dark, at that! What if he shouldn't be
able to find the hole in time? Or if he
should succeed in finding it and the
rifle bullet should jam on the wire?
Or any one of a dozen “ifs” that might
fail to rid us of the deadly thing be-
fore it should go off and blow us to
kingdom come?
But there was no time to haggle
about it, and the whang of another
high-powered bullet on the iron roof
over our heads speeded things up.
“Do your do,” Daddy muttered; and
1 struck a match, sheltered the tiny
flame In my hollowed hands until it
got going good, and then, with a silent
prayer that Daddy might not miss the
hole, stuck the blaze to the frayed end
of the powder string.
(Continued next week).
P. O. S. of A. Installations.
District president E. S. Ripka, of
Centre Hall, had a busy time of it
last week installing the newly elected
officers of the various P. O. S. of A.
camps in Pennsvalley. The first in-
stallation was at Spring Mills on the
evening of Jaunary 2nd when the of-
ficers of Camp No. 891 were installed,
T. L. Smith being the assistant in-
stalling officer. The officers are as
follows:
Past President—H. BE. Stover.
President—Jerry Albright.
Vice President—Ray Zeigler.
Master of Forms—John Moser.
Recording Secretary—S. G. Walker.
Ass't Recording Secy—C. E. Albright.
Financial Secretary—G. C. King.
Treasurer—S. L. Condo.
Chaplain—W. IH. Smith.
Conductor—Boyd Smith.
Inspector—Russell Weaver.
Guard—John H. Smith.
Right Sentinel—C. R. Zerby.
Left Sentinel—C. I. Wert.
Trustees—Jerry Albright, W. H. Het-
tinger, W. H. Smith.
Centre Hall, No. 889, January 5th.
cer.
Past President—T. A. Hosterman.
President—Boyd Jordon.
Vice President—Ired Raymond.
Master of Forms—R. D. Foreman.
Recording Secretary—T. L. Smith.
Asst. Ree. Secy—N. L. Bartges.
Financial Secretary—E. S. Ripka.
Treasurer—D. W. Bradford.
Chaplain—A. C. Ripka.
Conductor—Andrew Jordon.
Inspector—W. H. Bland.
Guard—I¥". J. McClellan.
wight Sentinel-—Miles Snyder.
Left Sentinel—Carl McClellan.
Trustees—N. L. Bartges, R. D. Foreman,
E. S. Ripka.
Aaronsburg, No. 625, January 6th,
T. L. Smith and W. H. Bland, assist-
ant installing officers.
Past President—Harvey Haflley.
President—R. W. Mensch.
Vice President—H. C. Stricker.
Master of Forms—T. C. Weaver.
Recording Secretary—W. J. Bower.
Ass’t Ree. Secy—J. H. Haines.
Financial Secretary—W. K. Haines.
Treasurer—J. H. Haines.
Chaplain—A. S. Musser.
Conductor—Harvey Tressler.
Inspector—O. H. Bower.
Guard—Bruce Homan.
Right Sentinel—Frank Boyer.
Left Sentinel—G. B. Stover.
Trustees—H. C. Stricker, W.
J. H. Haines.
Woodward, No. 857, January 7th.
T. L. Smith and W. H. Bland, assist-
ant installing officers.
Past President—Hasten Long.
President—I. M. Orondorf.
Vice President—C. P. Sheesley.
Master of Forms—E. F. Orndorf.
Recording Secretary—C. D. Motz.
Asst. Ree. Secy—W. J. Smith.
Financial Secretary—E. H. Musser.
Treasurer—E. F. Orndorf.
Chaplain—D. J. Benner.
Conductor—Frank Korman.
Inspector—C. BE. Hackenburg.
Guard—I. M. Smith.
Right Sentinel—C. E. Carter.
Left Sentinel—W. R. Smith.
Trustee—John Brindel.
The third district has shown a gain
in membership for the year, with good
prospects ahead. They have also
shown a good gain financially.
J. Bower,
Real Estate Transfers.
Harry E. Breon, et ux, to Harris R.
Woomer, tract in Spring township;
$1,200.
Harvey N. Grenoble, et ux, to Sam-
uel Snyder, tract in Ferguson town-
ship; $1,700. Zip :
Lawshe Baird, et ux, to Ruth M.
Bair, tract in Philipsburg; $1.
Ruth M. Bair to Elizabeth S. Baird,
tract in Philipsburg; $1.
Howard W. Lutz, et al, to George
R. Mock, tract in Rush township; $1.
Edward S. Erb, et ux, to Edward N.
Porter, tract in State College; $1,000.
Mary Eby, Admr., to John Eby,
tract in Walker township; $1.
John Ream, et ux, to D. P. Ream,
tract in Gregg township; $50.
Helena Grenoble, Admr., to James
H. Runkle, tract in Ferguson town-
ship; $1,400.
James H. Runkle to Harvey Gren-
oble, tract in Ferguson township;
$1,400.
John B. Fetzer’s heirs to Henry
Fetzer, tract in Boggs township; $300.
. George F. Walker, et ux, to Henry
Fetzer, tract in Boggs township; $100.
Ida S. Fryberger, et bar, to Clara
G. Fryberger, tract in Philipsburg;
$1,500.
John E. Rupp, et ux, to Christena
M. Musser, tract in State College;
$3,800.
Christ H. Schrader to Edward S.
Erb, tract in State College; $1,800.
——————— A —————
Marriage Licenses.
Aaron Beam and Mary Louise
Hockenbury, Cooper Settlement,
Clearfield county.
Orvis E. Corman, Millheim, and
Mabelle J. Stover, Aaronsburg.
Ira J. Sprankle and Isabelle E.
Tate, Bellefonte.
Arthur Burns Hannon, Howard, and
Emma V. Bumgardner, Runville.
George Kultan, Lecontes Mills, and
Mary Krasnovich, Clarence.
er ——— pore
Peace Dollar Now in Banks.
——————————————N—————
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
Do the best you can where you are, and
when that is accomplished God will open
a deor to a higher sphere.—Henry Ward
Beecher.
Sporty knickerbockers for women
were advocated by the American
Designers’ Association on the third
day of its convention at the Hotel
Pennsylvania in New York Saturday,
to balance the garments it had recom-
mended for men on the preceding day.
‘The men’s garments, with high waists,
braiding and satin pipings, it was
conceded, had a distinctly feminine
note, and the knickers in tweed, giv-
en to woman by the designers, dressed
her like a man.
Before the convention brought its
mannish knickerbocker suits into view
it passed a resolution letting itself
out of any appearance of trying to
make woman unwomanly. The reso-
lution said that never in the last fifty
years had the dress of woman been so
convenient and modest or lent itself so
entirely to the virtues of hygiene, and
that short, scant skirts, which did not
hinder a woman’s motions, might pre-
serve her life in case of accident when
she could not escape swathed in long
garments.
The convention, in its discussion,
said that knickerbockers for women
were certain to come into general use
and that it, as a progressive organi-
zation, should be in the vanguard in
standing for them.
A knickerbocker suit worn at the
evening session by Mrs. Alice L.
Becht, daughter of Daniel Edward Ry-
an, the 83 year old designer who sug-
gested the latest style, was of rough
mixed woolen goods, the knickers end-
ing in a cuff buttoned over the stock-
ing a little below the knee. There al-
so was a smart mannish coat.
Special displays of advance spring
fashions have recently been made by
the big stores, where many new and
interesting features were noted.
Among these the cape gown, the ex-
tensive vogue of knickers for every
occasion of outdoor wear, the loose,
looped panel known as the culotte,
the combination of materials for the
summer gown, the sanction given the
collar, and the prevalence of ratine,
both silk and cotton, are perhaps the
most outstanding.
It is a trifling thing, at times—a
color tone, perhaps, a touch here or
there, anew line—which distinguishes
the last year’s frock from the up-to-
date model. But it is this seeming
nothingness which stamps a woman as
well-groomed and distinctively dress-
ed, or as rather out of things and
more or less passe.
We hear much about the added
length of skirts. But clothes for
sports wear have certainly not taken
on any added inches. They continue
to swing jauntily and smartly at from
10 to 14 inches from the ground.
Afternoon and evening gowns are
somewhat longer, but not startlingly
so. They more often than not have
culotte panels of self-material, of lace
or of tulle which, on occasions, reach
nearly to the floor. A sleveless even-
ing creation of lettuce green crepe,
charmingly embroidered in seed
pearls, was weighted to uneven
lengths so that it dipped deeply at
either side, by pearl tassels. An ex-
quisite dinner gown of embroidered
net used filet for this chic note.
Sleeves are either missing altogeth-
er, as in the gown for formal wear, or
they are three-quarter length and
wide cuffed with an occasional seven-
eighth. Jenny continues to send un-
usual and lovely sleeves and much at-
tention promises to centre on them
throughout the season.
The perennial favorite, black and
white, again bobs up serenely. And
it is as welcome and as stunning as
ever. It may be no more than a gilet
of white Irish crochet in a black sat-
in suit, or a facing of black on white
rajah, but the combination is certain
to exist. Pill-box red, which seemed
so startling when it came out last
year, is now firmly ensconced in fash-
ion’s favor. Tt is fascinating in silk
ratine or eponge.
Age is no factor in the wearing of
the trim coat suits of homespun and
tweed. The coats of these suits con-
tinue straight and boxed, but exhib-
it a liking for trimming. This may
take the form of leather inserts, tri-
angular shaped, on the cuffs, lapels,
collar and double number of pockets,
one above the other. But more often
it is the back centre seam, which fur-
nished the line of attack. Both pip-
ings and tiny bands of contrasting
material were noted. Bound button-
holes, black on checks and vice versa,
were shown, and the slashed bottom
is chic. These coats invariably fast-
en with one button below their rolling
collar.
The sports coats are stunning with
their accompanying white skirts of
flannel or crepe.
All indications point to a colorful
spring season in hats for the fair sex,
according to the bulletin of the Retail
Millinery Association of America,
which says:
“Except for the opening collections
The new silver dollar—the “Peace
Dollar”’—was placed in circulation last |
week, several hundred thousand hav- |
ing been shipped to the federal re-
serve banks by the Philadelphia mint.
The new coin was made in com-
memoration of the arms conference
at Washington. It is designed with
the head of Liberty on one side, and
on the other a dove upon a mountain
top, clutching an olive branch, struck
by the rays of sun with the word
“Peace” beneath it.
This is the first time the silver dol-
lar has been changed since 1878, the
coinage laws forbidding any change
in the design more often than once in
twenty-five years except by special
legislation.
There will be 180,000,000 of the new
coins issued, one-half of which will be
dated 1921. The first dollar was sent
by special messenger to President i
Harding.
— “Did the traffic cop arrest
you?” “Twice,” replied Mr. Chug-
gins. “When 1 couldn’t stop he ar-
rested me for speeding, and when I
finally stopped and couldn’t start he
arrested me for blocking the traffic.”
—Washington Star.
abroad sponsoring black and white
collections, all else pointed to a sea-
son for bright colors. The red range
and that of the blues and greens ave
particularly prominent in the French
modes, canna and a brighter shade
they call Pompeii being well liked. Of
course, the hats for immediate wear
stress blacks, browns and grays to
beige neutral tints, but these ave al-
ready on the wane before the on-
slaught of approaching spring and re-
sort attire.
«With the advent of warm reds, the
French have deposited here a shade
as bloody in name—feu Landra—as
in effect. Tiger lily shades, reddish
yellows and pumpkin tones, too, will
flourish during the first few months
of 1922. The old rose tones have not
been entirely neglected either. Blues
and greens are especially well thought
of, especially the latter in relation to
Lg dealing with the empire per-
Clothes make such a difference to
the way a woman feels, any time, any-
where, that it’s worth while giving a
little thought even to those she is to
wear while she does the “dirty wok.”
It’s not only unnecessary to look the
“sight” some women make of them-
selves over housework.