-
EE —
was scarlet, perspiration poured from
& him in a stream, his heart beat fur-
iously.
rad | “Is it far?” asked Mrs. Allan.
_——— =
Bellefonte, Pa., April 2, 1926.
——————————————————————
EASTER WHISPERINGS.
The messages of Easter sound
From every budding tree
They turn the grim,
ground,
Into a garden place.
They rise with tender mystery,
Above the calling of the sea,
They whisper, in a splendid way,
From young love's smiling face!
frost-hardened
Oh, some of them are very gay.
And some of them are sad;
Some steal to us, from yesterday,
Some make to-morrow glad!
Some speak to us from meadows, where
Blue flowers lift wide eyes,
And some sound like a silver prayer,
Through the rain-touched April skies.
The messages of Easter creep
Across that lonely land,
‘Where little dreams lie fast asleep—
(Some of them never wake!)
And, oh, they make us understand
The patience of a nail-pierced Hand—
They heal the wounds, however deep,
In hearts that Life would break!
—From The Designer Magazine for April.
THE CRUCIFIX.
(Concluded from last week.)
He rose in the morning determined
to invite Mrs. Allan into his house
and he set feverishly and awkwardly
to work to make it presentable. He
opened a window. in the parlor and
moved in two chairs from the kitchen
and polished the smooth surface of
the crucifix; then he knelt before the
fireplace and polished the beautiful
design at the back. As he did so, he
observed that the outer border was
not of a conventional pattern, as he
had always supposed, but that what
he took for the edge of the design
was the lower section of lettering,
hidden by overlapping mortar, burn-
ed and blackened a hundred years
ago. He took out his knife and began
to scrape it clean. But he would have
to have more time.
At ten o'clock Mrs. Allan came up
the road, driven in a smaller and less
handsome car by the same imposing
person. She smiled as she saw Dan-
jel standing in the door and her
chauffeur lifted down a heavy basket.
“1 brought you some things for your
cupboard,” she said. “I thought that
with this car we might follow the old bi
road. Do you think we can?”
Daniel blushed scarlet. He post-
poned his invitation until they should
return. He was even too shy to sit
by her.
“T']l go ahead and show the way.”
The chauffeur’s profile was non-
committal, but in his eyes was dis-
gust at this wild project. Daniel had
closed and bolted the shutter and
he now locked the outer door.
“Are you alone?” asked Mrs. Allan.
“Yes, ma'am.”
The chauffeur drove with increas-
ing difficulty for half a mile, then he
said he could go no farther.
“Here's an open place, madam; it’s
doubtful whether I could turn beyond.
Mrs. Allan stepped eagerly down,
her cheeks flushed.
“I know the way,” she said.
“Through the trees you can see the
granite ridge on top of the hill.”
Mrs. Allan had gone only a few
steps when she stopped, bewildered.
The trees closed about them, the mass
of rock topping the ridge down which
Tumbling Run plunged had vanished.
“I'm lost,” she laughed. “You'll
have to go ahead.”
Daniel stepped over a fallen tree
with a thick trunk and, failing to
hear her, glanced back.
“You'll have to help me,” she said,
amused.
Flushing scarlet, he took her out-
stretched hand—how smooth it was
and how small! She leaned her
weight upon his arm and stepped up,
then down. He could carry her to
Tumbling Run! He led the way slow-
ly deeper and deeper into the woods.
Presently she stood still.
“What heavenly quiet!” .
He heard her with delight; he did
not know there was anyone else in
the world so foolish as he about the
woods. He wished that he had
brought his precious crucifix and his
carvings; here he could have spoken.
Perhaps at Tumbling Run she would
rest and he could tell her there.
But they did not quite reach Tumb-
ling Run. They could hear already
the light plashing of the fall when
Mrs. Allan stood still.
“Stop!” she said in a changed voice.
Paleness overspread her face; she
looked down at her foot in its low
shoe.
“Something has bitten me,” she
said quietly.
Daniel’s gaze traveled quickly to
right and left and he stamped fur-
iously with his heavy heel. There
lay dead, but still writhing, a brown,
mottled body, with a queer ending to
its tail.
“He should have warned us,” said
Mrs. Allan lightly.
“Take off your shoe,” commanded
Daniel. When he saw her tremulous,
unsteady hands, he knelt and strip-
ped off shoe and stocking and laid his
lips to a red mark on the ankle.
“I'm sorry,” said Mrs, Allan,
“We'll have to make a tourniquet.”
She directed Daniel how to apply her
stocking and handkerchief and to
twist them tightly with a stick. He
obeyed until the ligature sank into
the flesh.
“Does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t matter. Will you put
on my shoe and give me your arm?”
“1’1] have to carry you.”
Mrs. Alian looked up at him, know-
ing the preciousness of every minute.
“Can you?”
“Oh, yes.”
He lifted her with reassuring
strength, one arm under her should-
ers, the other under her knees. She
said nothing except, “It was very
stupid of me,” as though silence
would lighten his burden.
Can’t you rest a little?” she asked
after a long time.
Daniel set her on her feet; his face
“ »
“Then shout to my chauffeur.”
Distress which was not physical
gripped Daniel in the throat. In a
few moments she would be gone, and
life and hope with her. :
“I can get along,” he insisted stub-
bornly.
The chauffeur came plunging to-
ward them, green with fright.
«Youll have to get me home quick-
ly,” said Mrs. Allan. “A snake has
bitten me.”
Daniel lifted her into the car and
closed the door.
«We'll take you to your house,” she
offered.
“You can go faster if you travel
light,” said Daniel.
The chauffeur showed his disgust
in both profile and full face and in it
Daniel was plainly included. He sent
the car roaring down the track which
it had made.
In a few moments the wood was
quiet. Daniel went slowly homeward,
his body trembling. In his absence
simeone, perhaps Maria Scholl, had
come up the road and had entered his
house. The basket was gone, the old
lock on the parlor door was broken.
He staggered into the room. The
fireplace and the crucifix were still
there; the fireplace they could not
carry away and the crucifix they did
not wish. But these were of no use
to him now. He did not believe she
would die—when a snake bite was
sucked quickly there was little danger
—but she would never come back. He
sat by the kitchen table, his bright
head on his arms.
After a long time he remembered
the inscription on the fireplace and
went into the parlor. He uncovered
a rough d, then an a, then an n. They
were the letters of his name! Des-
perately he worked on. The inscrip-
tion said: daniel—la—roche—he
—made—this—pine—grove—1792.
Daniel sat still, his hands clasped
round his knees, his eyes staring. His
ancestors had lived here for genera-
tions; he was doubtless named for
this Daniel. His skin pricked and he
felt with awe the course of his blood,
not as though it were a stream en-
closed within his body, but as though
it had its spring elsewhere and flowed
through him, bestowing life, making
his eyes to see and the tips of his
longing fingers to tingle.
He spoke in a whisper.
“I guess my mammy never knew
about him. What he could do, I can
The July sun beat on the oval val-
ley. It was three o’clock in the after-
noon and the basket-makers had com-
pleted not only to-day’s peeling but
their summer’s task. Only Daniel,
whose stint was not finished, worked
on.
Scholl sat smoking his. pipe. He
wanted his daughter to marry and
leave; she and her mother quarreled
from morning till night. He detect-
ed Daniel’s ill-hidden dislike and hat-
ed him in return. He surmised that
Daniel expected to weave his baskets
alghe in his own house.
“No one is to take willows home,”
he announced. “Them that works
will work here. I ain’t got no favor-
ites.”
Daniel was aghast. He knew the
the large room in the old house where
the weavers sat and quarreled all
day. It was heated by a stove into
which wood was piled until the tem-
perature was eighty degrees; the win-
dows were never opened.
“Pll have to stay home and keep
my fire,” he protested.
“You get somebody to keep your
fire,” advised Scholl. “I don’t look
with favor on this fooling round no
girl.”
Daniel’s angry grasp tightened on
his knife, but a sound caught his ear
and he looked up. Amazed, he saw
the small car which had brought Mrs.
Allan to her rendezvous, and in it the
supercilious chauffeur.
“Mrs. Allan wants to see you,” he
said. “You're to come with me.”
Daniel rose slowly. His hands
shook and his knees were weak; hope |?
rushed into him in an overwhelming
flood and he dropped his knife and his
withes and, going dazed toward the
car, put an uncertain foot upon the
step. He had never ridden and now
he was to travel in an automobile,
His excitement did not confuse him
utterly. ;
“Did she get all right?” he asked.
5 “She’s better, but she was very
sick.”
“I have something I must take
along,” he stammered. “I can run to
my house.”
“Get in,” said the chauffeur as
though he were afraid of being too
good-natured. “I'll take you up.”
The basket-makers gathered to-
gether, talking loudly. When Daniel
had gone up and down and away after
the manner of Elijah in his chariot
of fire, they climbed the hill and went
through his house, and Scholl spat
upon the beautiful work of the old
fireplace. .
Into the house on the broad street
of Linchester thirty miles away had
been put much of the earning of
furnace and forge and farms, and to
it the mansion in the valley was as a
lodge in a wilderness to a palace. It
had been unoccupied for years but
the few months since Mrs. Allan’s re-
turn had sufficed to give it an air of
continuous habitation.
Put down at the front door, Daniel
stood overpowered by the loftiness of
the pillars and the magnificence of
the trees. He held his crucifix as
though it were a talisman and its
touch gave him courage. He stood
with straight shoulders, facing the
maid.
“You came to see Mrs. Allan?”
“Yes, ma'am.”
In the central hall he grew pale. It
was not the vast size, or the breath
of the staircase which went halfway
up one side, then, from the opposite .
end of a broad gallery, up the other,
which startled him, nor was it the
array of ancient and priceless furni-
ture. Marvelous as they seemed, here
was something still more marvelous.
Hanging beside the clock on the man-
tel was the replica of his treasure
Moreover, the ironwork of the fire-
place was familiar—here were the
delicate conventional arabesques in a
larger design, here in the cavernous
depths was the old man under the
feathery tree!
The maid looked back over her
shoulder. ’
“This way, please,” she said again.
She stumbled in her effort to advance
and at the same time to keep her eye
on this tall, roughly dressed youth
whose confusion did not seem to be
that of stupidity. “You're to come
upstairs.”
Daniel followed up the stairway, his
hand touching, then drawing away
from, the polished mahogany, as
though he might do it harm. He
crossed the gallery and ascended the
stairway on the other side, where he
found himself in a square hall.
“Here,” said the maid sharply, an-
noyed at herself for being so curious
about this country boy, handsome as
he was. When she saw that he car-
ried a crucifix, she was terrified. . She
was a Dunker and she always dusted
as rapidly as possible the shelf in the
hall. Dear knows what queer ill
these Popish relics might work!
In one of the bedrooms at the front,
Daniel saw first the huge bed, which,
however, did not seem huge in this
great room; then Mrs. Allan’s little
figure on a couch before the window.
The maid pushed up a chair on the
other side of the couch and there Dan-
iel sat down and laid his crucifix up-
on his knee.
“You're better?”
wardly.
“Yes,” answered Mrs. Allan.
wasn’t the snake bite that was so bad,
but our tourniquet. The expedition
was a wild one but I was homesick.”
Her eyes left Daniel’s face and drop-
ped to his knee.
“I hardly ever see a snake,” said
Daniel. “It worried me because per-
haps I oughtn’t to a let you go.” He
blushed, realizing that his speech was
incorrect.
“It wasn’t your fault,” said Mrs.
Allan. “You saved my life.” She put
out her hand and took the crucifix.
“What have you here?”
When Daniel did not answer she
looked up. He sat back, covering his
face—now that he had a chance, he
was afraid to tell his wild dreams.
“What is the matter?” she asked
at last.
He looked up and away from her.
“] didn’t have anybody but my
mother,” he said. “We always lived
up there. She was sort of afraid of
people. She learned me to read and
write from the Bible, and she learn-
ed me to make baskets. But I want-
ed to make other things out of clay
an iron. I can feel it in my fingers.
We had this cross hanging in our
house and we had a fireplace. The
other day I scraped off some dirt on
the fireplace and I seen a name, Dan-
iel La Roche. Daniel is my name. I
guess it wis my great-gran’daddy or
my great-yreat-gran’daddy that made
those things. I could make things if
I had someone to learn me. To-day I
come here and you have this fireplace
and this cross.” :
Mrs. Allan turned the crucifix in
her hands.
“Daniel La Roche was the mmolder
in my grandfather’s day,” she said,
amazed. “His pieces are treasured
in museums. He made the ornament-
al ironwork in this house and I sup-
pose that at the same time he made
some for himself.”
Still turning the crucifix round and
round, her fingers taking pleasure in
it, Mrs. Allan looked at him steadily.
“What do you mean to do in the
world 2”
“I want to make things like that,”
Daniel answered hoarsely. “My
great-great-gran’daddy must’ a’
Jearned. I thought you might tell nie
how; that was why I brought this.”
Mrs. Allan remembered the porcine
face of Scholl, the eyes of his daugh-
ter. She had no one left her, but she
must not too swiftly or recklessly
feed her hungry heart.
“What sort of people are those with
whom you work?”
“I'm only working with them till
Pve paid a debt,” said Daniel frown-
ng.
“What debt?”
“My mother’s burying.”
Mrs. Allan lay looking into the
green woods. When she turned back
she regarded Daniel sternly.
“Will you work with all your might
if I give you a chance to learn?” she
asked, steadying her voice.
Into Daniel's face came the look
which his great-great-grandfather
had given the man who let him experi-
ment with molten ironand molds of
sand. From his amazement and rap-
ture Mrs, Allan turned her face away,
as from something intolerable. He ex-
amined his hands—the skin was
shrunken and sore from long hand-
ling of wet osiers, but it would grow
smooth. He tried to speak, but fail-
ed; while out of his heart flowed lone-
liness and wretchedness and into it
love and peace and hope. There was
good in his heritage and it was all
his; there was evil, but beside his as-
piration and a profound, new-born af-
fection it was powerless, He lifted
his hands to his burning eyes and
tried in vain to press back the tears.
“Qh, I'll learn or Ill die!” he said
weeping.—By Elsie Singmaster.—
in The Woman’s Home Companian.
he asked awk-
Fathers’ Day at Penn State May 1.
Announcement of the sixth annual
Fathers’ day to be held on Saturday,
May 1, at The Pennsylvania State
College, has been made by John S.
Musser, Harrisburg, president of the
Association of Parents of Penn State.
On that day the fathers of the stud-
ents will gather at the college to par-
ticipate in the special events arrang-
ed by their sons and daughters. The
fifth annual meeting of the parents
association will be held on Saturday
morning. A student committee is
making arrangements for the occa-
sion.
—A miniature shotgun has been
designed for bank messengers that
fires a regulation sixteen- gauge shot-
gun shell. It is carried in a shoulder
1 holster.
' PENNSYLVANIA HUNTERS.
“It
HAD GOOD GAME SEASON.
The following information sent out
by the State Game Commission will
pe of interest to hunters generally:
HUNTING LICENSES ISSUED.
The number of hunter's licenses is-
sued during the 1925 season was con-
siderably higher than during the two
years previous. This was particular-
ly true in the hard coal region where
thousands of men were out of em-
ployment. Many of them spent their
time hunting, with an enormous drain
on our game supply in that part of
the State. As a matter of compari-
son, licenses issued since 1919 are ac
follows:
Licenses
Resident Non-resident
*As of February 1, 1926.
AMOUNT OF GAME KILLED.
Figures on the 1925 kill of large
game have been rechecked and cor-
respond very closely with prelimin-
ary figuers given out sometime ago.
Records on the kill of small game are
not yet complete. The percentage of
reports from individual hunters so
far received is far below the number
anticipated to date. The law re-
quires that these reports be filed on
. or before June 1, whether any game
was killed or not.
The kill of large game, including
wild turkeys, for the past three years
was as follows:
Kind 1923 1924 1925
BIR ..ouiiicsenivisa ilo 23 10 6
Legal bucks ..........0000 6452 T7718 T7287
Spike bucks ........... 1001 833 (1)
Two points to one side . 1322 1571 1784
Three points on one side 1766 2144 2223
4 or more points to 1 side2363 3230 3280
Legal deer during special
SEASON evn vies snares 8 126 1028
BEATS, sss verson asin risves 500 929 470
Wild Turkeys ....ceeseess 6049 2331 3241
1 Protected
Elk are not showing a satisfactory
increase, while deer are increasing
very rapidly. Many sections now
boast more deer than when white
settlers first came. Under the new
law more than a thousand spike bucks
were saved for next season, when
they will have antlers with two or
three points to a side. Saving the
spike bucks, and unfavorable weather
conditions, decidedly reduced the kill.
With favorable hunting conditions
the 1926 deer season will undoubted-
ly be the best ever recorded in Penn-
sylvania.
Several hundred cub bears were
saved by the new law protecting cubs.
This, together with the absence of
tracking snows, and peculiar food
conditions, reduced the 1925 kill of
bears. Sportsmen generally seem to
be well pleased with the new deer
and bear laws.
While the hatching and rearing sea-
son was more favorable for turkeys
in 1925 than the year previous, and a
much larger kill of turkeys was antic-
ipated, hunting conditions for tur-
keys were somewhat abnormal. How-
ever, many sportsmen report a scarc-
ity of wild turkeys, and are urging
that the turkey season be closed en-
tirely, or reduced to a week or ten
days, to save the turkeys from ex-
termination in a lot of good turkey
territory.
By tabulating reports sent in by
hunters during the last three years.
figures on the average kill per hunter
have been obtained. From a number
of trial tabulations we anticipate the
small game kill for 1925 will average
approximately as indicated. This,
however, is only a tentative figure,
and the correct average will be pos-
sible only when all the reports are
received and figures tabulated. As a
matter of comparison we give the
following:
Licenses Reports
Issued Received
464,132 47,000
475,861 29,591
499,644 89,780
20,000
25,000
Average number per hunter
Rabbits Squirrels Grouse
9 1-3 11-3 3-4
2-3 21-2 1
1-3 2 1
-3 21-4 1-2
-4 11:2 2-3
In 1925 more hunting accidents
were reported than the year previous
regardless of efforts made to secure
observance of common sense safety
rules. The fatal accidents were next
to the hightest of any year since 1913,
while the non-fatal accidents report-
ed were larger than ever recorded. A
separate tabulation giving the acci-
dents for 1924 and 1926 is attached,
from which it will be noted that of
the 52 fatal accidents, 52 per cent.
were self-inflicted, and 48 per cent.
inflicted by others. Of the 229 non-
fatal accidents, 38 per cent. were
self-inflicted, and 62 per cent. by
others.
Contrary to a general belief, shot-
guns were responsible for four-fifths
of the accidents, rifle and revolver ac-
cidents making up the balance.
Our records on 1925 hunting acci-
dents are more complete than any
previous year, which may account for
a somewhat larger number of non-fa-
tal accidents being recorded. How-
ever, it is evident that the press and
sportsmen’s organizations of Penn-
sylvania must make a still more con-
certed drive to help educate hunters
against carelessness with firearms. A
large majority of the yearly hunt-
ing accidents are avoidable, and the
Board is anxious to secure every pos-
sible assistance in curbing this ap-
palling loss of human life. Unless
the fields and forests are reasonably
safe for everybody, they are unsafe
for anyone.
Fatal Non-fatal
accidents accidents Total
Season of 1924 No. No. No.
Total accidents ..... 38 131 169
Self-inflicted ...... 20 60 80
Inflicted by others ...18 1 89
Ages of victims, self-inflicted:
Under 18 years of age..4 16 20
Over 18 years of age..16 44 60
Ages of persons causing injury to others:
Under 18 years of age..7 11 18
Over 18 years of age...11 60 1
Where accidents occurred:
In open fields +...... 26 94 120
In forests .......... 9 33 42
In conveyances ...... 3 3 7
Season of 1025
Total accidents «.... 52 229 281
Self-inflicted .....c00 27 86 113
Inflicted by others ..25 143 168
Ages of victims, self-inflicted:
Under 18 years of age. 7 a1
Over 18 years of age.. 62 82
Ages of persons causing injudy to others:
Under 18 years of age.16 25 a
12
Over 18 years of age....9 118
Where accidents occurred:
In open fields ...... 23 122 145
In forests ..........: 26 106 132
In conveyances ...... “3 1 4
Message Undelivered,
Couple Sues for $1,801
Beaumont, Texas.—Mr. and Mrs.
8. BE. Mulford joined in a suit against
the Western Union Telegraph com-
pany to collect $1,801, of which $1,800
represents exemplary damages be-
cause of the defendant's asserted fail-
ure to deliver a birthday message
from Mulford to his wife,
The message, it Is asserted, was
filed at Waxahachie, Texas, on July
20, 1925. It was charged in the peti-
tion that upon his arrival home a
few days afterward he found
wife “cool, dejected, thoughtful and
brooding, contrary to her usual sun-
ny, cheerful, friendly affection-
ate nature and disposition,” and that
she had dark suspicions and doubts
Yad crept into her mind as to wheth-
er the failure to receive the message
wes due to neglect and lack of
thoughtfulness on the part of her
husband, which, in turn, indicated to
her a waning affection on his part,
all of which caused her deep mental
snguish.
re A
seaild
Alcohol Given as Cause
of Leaves Turning Red
New York.—Alcohol, which long has
been blamed for coloring the human !
nose with a roseate tint, is now put
forth by sober scientists as the rea-
son why leaves turn red in the au-
tumn.
S. G. Hibben, expert of the West-
inghouse Lamp company, who has
been delving into the effects of light
on plants, sald that the old theory
that foliage changed color and
dropped off because of winter's chill
touch was erroneous. He has discov-
ered that chemical reactions in the
leaves of plants at certain periods in
their life cycle cause them to reject
sunlight. regardless of the weather.
With the shutting out of the sun-
light growth is retarded, food is
stored in the roots and trunk and fer-
mentation finally begins to take place
in the leaves. In the process of fer-
‘nop tation nleohol is produced in the
Ineves, chenging the color,
Originated Turkey Trot
Going back to the early Eighteenth
century to show that every innova
tion in dancing has met with vielent
opposition, a writer in Liberty Maga-
sine says that it was in 1912 that Ma-
bel Hite, an actress, and Mike Donlin,
a ball . player turned vaudevilian,
who was Mabel's husband, brought to
Broadway the first turkey trot New
York had ever seen. Right there de
cently ordered terpsichore expired.’
Raven in Literature
Ravens hold a high place in folk
lore and in the real literature of many
countries. From the beginning they
have been thought uncanny, although
according to the English story it wa:
the magpie and not the raven whiek
was the only bird to refuse to accom:
pany Noah into the ark. How it, o
rather they, for there must have been
a pair of them, survived the flood tra:
dition dves not tell. -
Modern Dyestuffs
Modern dyestuffs can be just as fast
and give just as beautiful colors as.
any used in past times, says the United
States Department of Agriculture. It
is sentiment chiefly that makes us
cling to the idea that the natural dyes
obtained from plants and animals are
best. Many of them are lovely colors,
it is true, and the time that has passed
since the cloth was dipped in the dye
pot has in many’ cases mellowed the
tones and made them even loveller.
Many of the so-called artificial dyes
used now are exactly the same from
the chemical standpoint as those from
berries and bark and other natural
sources. In some cases the new dyes
are better than the old. The modern
manufacturer of dyestuffs knows ex-
actly what is in them, and for that rea-
gon is surer of results.
Dog Lives in the Present
The great difference between dog
and man is that the dog has hardly
any power of looking into the future.
Man spends most of his time thinking
of what is going to happen tomorrow,
next week, or next year, and prepar-
ing for it. To a dog the present is
the only thing that counts,
7t is true that a dog will bury a
bone to be dug up later on, but in do-
ing so he does not say to himself, “I
am not hungry now; I may be hungry
tomorrow. Therefore, I will make
provision.” The act is merely In-
stinctive, and to be compared with
the storing of nuts by the squirrel or
the dormouse.
Weaving Genius
Until the close of the Eighteenth
century all fabrics carrying colored
designs were woven entirely by hand.
About 1801 Joseph Marie Jacquard in-
vented an attachment which is placed
at the top of a loom and automat-
ically selects strands of yarn required
to form the patterns and draws them
up to make the surface of the cloth
and at the same time leaves the other
strand to form the back of the fabric.
The attachment has ever since been
called the jacquard. The invention
was first put into commercial use in
1809 in France.
his i
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
AT EASTER TIME,
i
The little flowers came up through the
i ground
| At Easter time, at Easter time.
' They raised their heads and looked around
At happy Easter time,
And every pretty bud did say,
“Good people, bless this holy day,
For Christ is risen, the angels say,
At happy Easter time.” x
—Laura E. Richards in Good Housekeep-
ing.
Loveliest season of the year! So, of
course, one must have lovely frocks
for the after-Easter parties and
dances and good-looking sports cos-
tumes for spring-time out-of-doors.
Fashion is very generous in the var-
iety offered in the new modes. There
are flared, bouffant and softly gath-
ered styles for afternoon and even-
ing, while the straight-line silhouette,
plaited or slashed, gives graceful
i width to sports models.
{ The basque dress in its more youth-
ful versions features the higher
| waistline, while the new girdle frock
| emphasizes the hipline. Then there’s
| the princess dress, ignoring a waist-
{ line but conforming to the lines of the
, figure and flaring out attractively at
. the hem.
i Necklines and collars are another
i interesting point of fashion this sea-
"son. The V is favored and frequently
the back as well as the front follows
! this outline. The shoulder-to-should-
| er rounded neckline is also very fash-
!ionable. The high collar, the tie-col-
lar and the convertible neckline with
collar that may be worn high or open
rare all featured for daytime and
sports dresses, so it is simply the
choice of the most becoming.
And a word about the fashionable
fabrics for spring. Silk crepes con-
. tinue in deserved popularity, for their
very suppleness adapts them to the
soft flares and fulness of fashion.
Taffeta, too, is much in vogue, and
everywhere prints appear like spring
blossoms. Kasha and other soft whol
weaves also answer the new demands
of the mode; while tweed, jersey and
| balbriggan share the honors for
sports wear.
Those who shop in Paris now that
April’s there are seeing the two-piece
mode run away with the styles, its
| most conspicuous conquest being the
evening gown. But there are many
French frocks that manage in one
clever way or another to give this
, impression without actually being di-
| visible by two. Other features ex-
ploited by the Easter showing are
plaited aprons, straight or shaped
panels, draped girdles, bows tied at
the front or a collar tied at back.
Fulness is considered by Paris to be
an indispensable factor in smart
dress, and frocks for bordered silks
have resorted to various methods of
obtaining it, and the simplest of these
is the gathered way.
By their capes, the shortness of
their: skirts and the length of their
sleeves one first recognizes the
French costumes—and later learns to
lave them for their easy fulness hid-
1-in plaits or broadcasted in flares,
for their ingratiating softness, the in-
dividuality of their collars, and last-
ly or very lately for their gilets oz
, bosom fronts. With them the Paris
. ienne wears the straight-line coat a:
frequently as the flared type, and re
cently she has appeared with a new
wrap, the circular cape. It encircles
the shoulders smoothly and some
: times cuts itself short in front. Thos:
who look to Paris for the right thing
in a classical spring suit find it witl
a short jacket and a tailored sort o
smartness.
Paint always seems such a perman
ent finish that it is very important t
have its color and texture pleasing
Colors influence our thoughts and ac
tions more than we realize and the
: are directly responsible for makin
the home either a pleasant or an ur
pleasant place. Most people have ce;
tain colors which they prefer and or
or more of the home-maker’s favorit
colors is generally seen on the wal
of her various rooms.
The primary colors in their pu
unadulterated state are not a sa
choice for any wall; but these colo
or their complements if grayed a
very appropriate.
Certain colors produce certain e
fects. It is well to remember whi
colors should be used to create a fe
ing of warmth and which should
employed to give the effect of cor
ness. Rooms facing north or east 1
quire the warm, cheerful shades, wh
those facing south or west ne
the cool tones. Reds, pinks, orang
browns and yellows, intense or gre
ed, are warm colors; while blues, pi
ples and greens comprise the cool ¢
ors. In rooms of uncertain expost
neutral tones may be used succe
fully.
Tints may be most satisfactor
used over old or new plastered we
that have been previously paper
They are an inexpensive finish :
and can be very easily applied.
more unusual colors can be obtal
by mixing two packages of the r
pared colors. However, so larg
variety of shades is obtainable t
it is seldom necessary to do this, :
by using the neutral, ready-prepa
tints, the home decorator can be f
ly sure that her color scheme will
a success.
The long seams in narrow slee
can easily be pressed on the handl
a large wooden mixing-spoon.
piece of cloth should be wrag
around the handle for padding.
On a cardboard hung near
; washing-machine paste clipp
| gathered of various methods of
moving grease, mildew, gum,
_ete.; also ways of setting colors.
| when the remedy is wanted it is 2
i at hand.
Many women find it very difl
| when wearing rubber gloves to
. their fingernails from going thr
' the rubber. By putting a little
ton in each finger-tip the rubber
much ‘longer.—From The Deline
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