Boi Bellefonte, Pa., March 11, 1927. THINGS ARE TOUGH. Said the little read rooster “Gosh all hem- lock; Things are tough, Seems that worms are getting scarcer, and I cannot find enough, What's become of all those fat ones is a mystery to me; There were thousands in that rainy spell -——but now, where can they be?” The old black hen who heard him, didn’t grumble or complain, She had gone through lots of dry spells, she had lived through floods of rain, So she flew up on the grindstone and she gave her claws a whet, As she said “I've never seen the time when there weren't worms to get.” She picked a new and undug spot: the earch was hard and firm, The little rooster jeered “New ground, that's no place for a worm,” The old black hen just spread her feet, she dug both fast and free, “I must go to the worms” she said “The worms won't come to me.” The rooster vainly spent his day, through habit, by the ways, ‘Where fat, round worms had passed in squads back in the rainy days. ‘When nightfall found him supperless, he growled in accents rough, “I'm hungry as a fowl can be, conditions sure are tough.” He turned to the old black hen and said, “It's worse with you, For you're not only hungry, but you must be tired too, I rested while I watched for worms, so I feel fairly pert; But how are you? Without worms too and after all that work.” The old black hen hopped to her perch and dropped her eyes to sleep And murmured in a drowsy tone “Young man hear this and weep, I'm full of worms and happy, for I've dined both long and well, The worms are there as always—but I had to dig like Hell.” Oh, here and there red roosters still are holding sales positions, They cannot do much business now be- cause of poor conditions, But as soon as things get right again, they'll sell a hundred firms, Meanwhile the old black hens are out.and gobbling up the worms. —Exchange. ‘ pt ——f A on ———— THE VERY GOOD ACTOR. Elaine Laure was slamming the pans in the tiny kitchen of a wall-up Harlem flat. Her husband slammed the piano in their shabby living room. “If he hadn't bought that baby grand on the installment plan I might have a car!” Elaine gave the coffee pot an extra vicious bang. “If she wouldn’t make so much noise I might dope out this air!” Tony Larue’s long fingers wandered over the keys in search of suitable rhythm. Elaine had been in the chorus of a Broadway show when Tony had fallen in love with her from the orchestra pit. Not from the seats of the wealthy that speculators sell, but from the lowly nightly chair of an under- paid violinist. It is seldom that a carefree girl used to the footlights’ glare gives her heart to a fiddler with- out any bank account. But petite Elaine had fallen hard for the soulful young musician. She had scornfully given a millionaire the stony stare and his conge, preferring Tony’s soltaire to the other’s tempting offers. “A peach of a girl and a deuce of a shame!” Fifi St. Clair opined. “She might have been a Marchioness or a movie star. To think of Elaine wast- ing herself on a tin-pan-alley Tom- my!” In fact, there were few of her clos- est friends who could understand her choice. Elaine, who had been the idol of the smartest night clubs! Elaine, however, fooled them all. Tony, of course, kept on with his bow. Even love must live. For a year and a half both of them moved in a rosy realm of bliss. Sharing a little nest of their own compensated them for the sacrifice they made. “You'll make the grade some day, old dear!” she would assure him fond- ly. She pictured his name in electric lights after he had attained the covet- ed concert stage. She was certain that he would. The time would come when his songs would ring through the cabarets. His playing would be wafted on the ether every night. Then she’d have her little car, the comforts and the trips they loved to plan. Working about in the kitchen, she heard a crash of chords. There fol- lowed a lilting harmony that lured her toes to tread the worn linoleum floor. It really wasn’t bad, that catchy melody. , She caught the scratch of Tony’s pen as he transferred the mu- sic to his manuscript. “How does it strike you?” he call- ed to Elaine. She knew he was all en- thused. “Not so bad,” she answered a little grudgingly. “Breakfast’s ready,” she added. “Forget it!” came from Tony. “I'm doing a song for Hamilton Glenn,” he explained, and kept on writing. “He heads the bill at the theatre two weeks from tonight. If I can get him to try it out, I'm sure it will go over.” How often she had heard him voice such vain hopes before. Just then the telephone rang. Fifi St. Clair was on the wire. Elaine hadn’t heard from her former chum for something over a year. Fifi, too, had forsaken the show for the bonds of matrimony... She had married all older, indulgent man who owned a mine or something. In any event, he was rich—far beyond the potential state that Elaine hoped for Tony. At the moment Fifi was phoning from her private suite at the Ritz. “You must come down to luncheon with me. I won’t take no for an an- swer. Hop in a taxi and toddle along. I'm simply crazy to see you!” i Elaine was fetching a picture when she entered the hotel lounge, “Greetings, Ray of Sunshine!” She glanced with fond approval at the nat- ural golden hair that had earned Elaine her nickname. “How come you're back in town?” Elaine was hoping that her tone wouldn’t betray her envy of Fifi’s neg- ligee. It was really a gorgeous Chin- ese thing that became her wonderful- ly. A wistful glance also appraised the cost of the apartment. Its rent for a day must be as much as Tony’s flat for a month. Elaine was a bit nonplussed. She’d never dare take Fifi home for steak and fried potatos in her shabby uptown flat. Fifi proceeded to answer in her characteristic way. It appeared that hubby had not come on, but had re- mained at home—for which she was duly glad. Servants, cars and a bank account had only proved a bore to the former Miss St. Clair. The social whirl of an inland town had driven her to tears. “Not of the genus gly-c- erin,” Fifi had affirmed. “I never knew I could cry before and really truly mean it. But, honest, kid, one can. You'll note that I've learned to call me one instead of the usual you. Oh, I've learned lots of things. I'd rather be proud and poor in New York than play the wealthy-matron role in a dinky deadly town!” Elaine smiled with sympathy, but wandered, after all, whether Fifi would. Fifi, however, went on. The lure of the lights and the jazzful wail of the moaning saxophone had called her back to Broadway. “Just for a vacation—to rest my shattered, tattered nerves from the deadly quiet of that seelpy rustic burg. Doting daddy was willing enough. On the level, he’s a dear! But he’s just a bit old-fashioned. He decided I needed a chaperon. So I promptly thought of you.” “Why of me?” inquired Elaine. She wasn’t going to be put on the shelf in any such sort of way. Tony had got away with that. Fifi certainly shouldn’t. “Aren't you married and settled down, and all that sort of thing?” Fifi filed her answer with a humorous toss of her head. “Officially I’m visit- ing you. Otherwise I'm here—board- ing at the Ritz. Actually, it’s going to be just one round of parties. We're lunching with two superchicks who'll be here any minute.” “Fifi!” Elaine protested. She shrank from the thought of the program the other was proposing. Yet the part that Fifi suggested was entirely in- nocent. Surely, after her devotion, she deserved a. little fling. Hadn’t she also made up her mind that Tony needed a lesson? Well, then—here was her chance! “Bring on friends!” It was half-past two when the party of four were seated in the grill. Elaine had a curious feeling that she must be Cinderella. However, the man who sat at her side put her at her ease. Gray-haired and distingue, his appearance spelled prosperity and he proved fascinating. Fifi’s compan- ion was Carter Bruce, an architect from Chicago. He had drawn some factory plans for Fifi’s absent half. The two had met at a dinner given by Fifi’s husband at the small-town coun- try club. The present luncheon had been planned while Fifi and Bruce had daned—more than a month ago. Only this morning Bruce had phoned to Martin Roberts to join them. That was when he had learned that another girl was to be in the party. With a subtle skill that she did not suspect, Roberts drew her out. He was guardedly interested. Sketchily he let her know a little of himself. His wife, she gathered, was abroad. They did not live together. The fac- tories that he controlled made tangi- ble the visions of architects and build- ers, This accounted for the contact that had brought him into touch with Fifi and her husband. But Roberts was artistic. Music and rare tapes- tries were his two pet hobbies. Music naturally prompted Elaine to boast a little of Tony. Roberts grew sympathetic. Before they had lighted cigarettes over their demi-tasse, he practically knew the history of Elaine’s domestic life. Encouraged by his interest, she told him a little proudly that Tony was writing a pop- ular song which Hamilton Glenn would sing. Martin Roberts listened with flat- tering attention. That he happened to know Hamilton Glenn and know him rather well he did not choose to divulge. Elaine would have changed her tone somewhat had she been aware of that. “Let’s motor out to Indian Head and dance while we have supper,” Carter Bruce proposed. Fifi was keen for the ride. A quizz- ical look in his half-crossed eye, Rob- erts consulted Elaine. “I'd love to, but I really can’t.” Elaine glanced at her wrist watch--- a cheap little plated affair. It was after four. Tony’d be home from the theatre at six in a hurry for his sup- per. He had to be back by ten of eight so it always was a rush. “Oh, phene to Tony that you're with me!” Fifi was out of patience. “I can’t go with these two men alone. Tony’ll understand.” “Couldn’t you possibly?” Roberts asked. Against her better judgment, Elaine supposed she could. Roberts went with her to the phone and Elaine dialed the theatre. They motored out to Indian Head in Roberts’ limousine, dined at a terrace table and later danced in the moon- light in the open air. Elaine com- pletely forgot herself in the pleasure of the moment; but she suddenly felt guilty when they started home. Tony would be in a tantrum, she hadn’t the slightest doubt, and Elaine grew more and more contrite as they drove to the city. It was a little after one when Fifi and Roberts and Carter Bruce bade her a gay good-night in front of her apatment. Just a little timidly, Elaine climbed the stairs, Unlocking the door, she stood in the hall, listening for a mo- ment. There was a light in the living room. She could hear Tony beating time as he softly whistled, Of course he would be composing. The neigh- bors would ha your handsome boy ve arisen ‘en masse if he had used the piano -at so late an hour. Nevertheless, he was at it hard, with never so much as a thought as to where his wife might be. The guilty Elaine was secretly glad, but her contrite side was hurt. Wasn’t he even going to ask where and with whom she’d been? Apparently not, she decided, as he whistled on. Then her shadow fell on the music sheet and he paused with a puzzled air. Staccato notes sounded the theme of the next week’s discords. Indig- nant at Tony's indifference, Elaine had little to say. She mentioned Fifi’s visit, but otherwise was silent about her evening out. Elaine’s conscience cuddled itself. If he felt that way about it, why should she stay at home? She was sick of this life of soap-suds, dusters and darning socks. She meant to find what fun she might while Fifi was in town. So every morning, as soon as she could, she hurried down to the Ritz. She lunched and shopped and supped and danced with Fifi and her friends. Each time that she saw Rob- erts, Elaine liked him more. What a pity she hadn’t met a man of Martin's wealth and charm before she married , Now she felt that he never | would make his way in the world. Be- ! Tony! sides, she didn’t want to wait. So, in spite their gay parties—or perhaps be- cause of them—Elaine grew discon- tented. Martin Roberts, however, gave no hint of any regard other than a liking for Elaine's society. If Fifi flirted with Carter Bruce, it was only a man- ifestation of her gay and mischievous nature. Elaine was sure that deep in her heart Fifi loved her husband. A few days more and Fifi’d be gone. Life would be drab again. The end of her role as chaperon would ring the curtain down on their gay good times. That evening Tony was in the depths when he came home from the theatre. Hamilton Glenn’s appear- ance was postponed for a month. A further and vexatious delay in trying out his song! Some one eles might offer one that would score a hit and Tony would lose his chance. Elaine dared not trust herself to voice her thoughts to her husband. What would be the use? Besides, she’d have to ask him for money in the morning. She hoped that by then Tony would be in a better frame of mind. But Tony didn’t make any com- plaint when he handed her the sum she needed for current expenses. In- stead, he gave her a parting peck and seemed intent on getting away as quickly as he could. In view of the fact that she'd nowhere to go now that Fifi had gone, Elaine was more lonely than ever as she went about the housework. Then a little after 10 o'clock she heard the doorbell ring. To her surprise, a delivery boy was standing there with a package—a box that was addressed to her and labeled with the name of one of the smartest furriers on 5th avenue. Nestled in tissue paper she found a beautiful silver fox, as soft and lovely a neckpiece as she had ever seen. Of course she hadn’t bought it. Its luxurious attractiveness was far beyond her means. She did not find any card inside—any slip of informa- tion. She wondered if by any chance Fifi could have sent it—whether she really ought to accept such a gener- ous gift, even though Fifi could, of course, well afford to make her such a splendid present. She phoned the shop, but no one knew who had made the purchase. Nevertheless, there was no mistake. The neckpiece had been paid for and ordered sent to her. Elaine tried it on. In the soft ca- resses of its embrace she made a pret- ty picture. She wondered what her husband would say—whether he'd even notice it if she wore the fur. As she stood before the mirror she heard the telephone. With a start she recog- nized the voice of Martin Roberts. He was pleading that she lunch with him in spite of her ultimatum not to see him again. Somehow she'd known that he would call, and although she knew that she ought to decline, Blaine was aware that she would consent when Roberts became persuasive. It may be that she wanted him to see her in the fur—to hear the quiet com- pliment she knew it would evoke. For just a moment she wondered if it could be Roberts who had sent the fur. Surely he wouldn’t insuit her by do- ing such a thing. But if he had, she told herself, the only course to take would be to tell him frankly that she couldn’t and wouldn't receive any such gift from him, Roberts, however, only smiled when Elaine explained the mystery and watched his face intently for any be- traying sign. “Maybe it came from Santa Claus,” he laughingly suggest- ed. “Apparently the old boy knew how well you'd look in it. Anyway, every day really ought to be Christ- mas.” ’ : * Elaine had promised herself to write to Fifi about the fur, but as the days slipped quickly by she forgot to do so. Tony never mentioned it. In fact, she saw so little of him that it was not surprising if he did not know she had it. But just as she might have sur- mised it would, her luncheon alone with Roberts led to many more. Now and then she dined with him and they went to a gay revue or out to dance in the evening. She compromised with her conscience on the ground of Tony’s neglect. Then, too, this new compan- ionship was a purely platonic one. Propinquity, however, often plays strange pranks with Plato’s friendly theory. More frequent tiffs with Tony over trivial things resulted in a violent scene that served to cap the climax. It came one night when Tony found that he had no evening shirts.” Elaine had completely forgotten to send them to the laundry. Bitterly sarcastic, he hurried out to a nearby shop in a fit of petulance. Dressing for the din- ner date she had with Martin Roberts, Elaine was in a furious mood when she left the house." Skillfully sympathetic, Roberts clev- erly added fuel to the fires of her dis- content. They had motored out to Indian Head to dine again on the ter- race, and under the spell again on the terrace, and under the spell of the balmy night Elane did not protest when he took her in his arms. He had never attempted to kiss her before, but now she freely gave him her lips } with a willing eagerness. She was I tired of being neglected; longing to be loved. “I've tried hard not to tell you, dear. It’s always seemed so hopeless,” he said as he held her close while they rode back in his car—with never a thought for the ears and eyes of the silent chauffeur. “But now that we i know how much we care, why keep up this pretense?” Ardently he beg- ged Elaine to make the break with Tony. He'd take her away on his private yacht for a long, glorious cruise. Later, he'd go to Tony and get him to let her divorce him. Rob- erts’ wife, he was would give him his freedom gladly. Instinctively she recoiled from the thought of what he was proposing; vet as he painted the picture it cer- tainly was alluring. Why should they wait, he pleaded, when they wanted each other so? “Martin, I can’t—you know I can’t!” she sobbed against his shoulder. Yet even as she bade him good-night with sorrowful refusal, Elaine was aware in the depths of her heart that she meant to go with hin. It was after four in the morning when Tony returned to the flat. Cas- ually, at breakfast time, he said he had been at the Lambs Club as the guest of Hamilton Glenn. Coldly ; Elaine ignored his excuse and they ate in the frigid silence. But as soon as he'd gone she went to the telephone and called up Martin Roberts. “You darling!” he exclaimed when he heard what she had determined. Later, at luncheon, they laid their plans and Elaine was completely car- ried away by the program he pro- posed. “The yacht will be ready tomorrow at noon,” Roberts announced with ela- tion. “I'll meet you on the River Drive, by the steps at 86th street. The launch will be waiting to take us out, and no one will be the wiser till after we have sailed.” All through the night she tossed about, the prey to various fears. In spite of her resolution to leave Tony, Elaine despised herself. But slum- ber at last soothed her nerves and it was after 9 o’clock before she opened her eyes. With a start she jumped out of bed. She dreaded facing Tony over the breakfast table. But Tony, she found, had gone. That avoided an ordeal that she probably couldn’t have | borne. On the table she found a note. It startled her for a moment. Was it | possible that Tony was also running away ? She smiled as she read it quickly. Really, it was pathetic. Glenn will sing my song at the mat- inee today,” Tony had scrawled on | the sheet. “Why don’t you come to | the theatre and we'll have a bite down- town ?” By the time that Glenn should sing that song she would be on the yacht, sailing down the Hudson on its way to sea! She hastily wrote as much on the back of Tony’s invitation. With a sigh of relief she closed the door and hurried from the apartment. It wasn’t yet 11, so she had lots of time. Sauntering slowly down the Drive, she picked out a sheltered bench and sat down to wait for Rob- erts. He’d pass her on his way to the wharf, but she wouldn’t be seen by others walking along the path. | Suddenly she was startled by some intuition that something must be wrong. Standing with his back to her, not twenty feet away, was a tall, athletic man, well but quietly dressed, with a pistol in his hand. Apparently he thought himself screened from curious view. He evidently had not observed Elaine on the nearby bench. With deliberate meditativeness he con- templated the weapon; then he slowly raised it and gazed into its muzzle. Quickly Elaine sprang to her feet; her instinct was to scream. Scarcely knowing what she did, she dashed across the grass and clutched the nan by the arm. “Oh, don’t—please don’t!” she begged him. “There must be some other way—some one who can help vou.” He turned to her with a whimsical smile, surprised at her interruption. “It won’t make any difference,” he said. “There’s no one who will care.” “Oh, I'm sure there must be!” He did not seem to be poor or ill; she was sure that he wasn’t a criminal, and the light in his dark, handsome eyes was humorous rather than desperate. “Would it help if you told me about it all? Sometimes it does, you know.” “Perhaps it would,” he assented, and thoughtfully slipped the pistol in- to the pocket of his coat. Walking slowly toward the bench, he sat down beside Elaine. Nervous and apprehen- sive, she didn’t know what to say. Somehow she must keep his mind from what he meant to do—hold him in conversation until some one should come along. No doubt Martin Rob- erts would think of some solution. Then, without mentioning his name, the man began to relate his history of his worries. As she listened it seemed to Elaine a strange coincidence that she should be the confidante to whom he told his | story. She learned that he was an | artist who had finally come to fame, ! but when he had reaped financial re- | ward he found he had lost his wife. | So nothing mattered now. The case ! was a perfect parallel of Elaine’s own ! situation. He had no word of blame for the girl who had run away from him. He felt that he’d been at fault Nevertheless, he’d made up his mind that he wished to end it all. Elaine grew cold as she listened. Terror clutched at her heart. Sup- pose it had been Tony she’d found with a pistol in his hand. Was that what , he would do—if he really cared? If he did, she’d be a murderess; that phase of the situation struck her like a blow. Possibly it was also true that Tony had suffered in silence, as this man had done; that he hadn’t com- plained or objected to her going about beacuse he bitterly blamed himself that he had not been able to give her the things she deserved. “Then you've really forgiven her— in spite of her leaving you?” Elaine was incredulous. “Yes,” he answered earnestly. “But there’s nothing left for me.” “Oh, I'm certain that there must be!” Elaine assured him in. “Couldn’t I go and see her? Wouldn't with a shake of his head. perfectly sure, | ' “Just whom did you suspect? ‘ing ' you take her back again if she was willing to come?” “Gladly,” he answered softly, but “It isn’t any use. I'll never see her again.” “But at least you must promise me that you won't use the pistol. If you really love her, you won't let her feel —as I know I should.” Then in a burst of emotion Elaine told him her story. It seemed so strange that their two lives had run such a similar course. “There—he’s coming now!” She spoke in a quick frightened tone as Martin Roberts appeared at the top of the flight of steps. “You're not going with him!” The man at her side placed his hand de- eisively on her arm. She stared at him in amazement, but she did move back a little so that Roberts might not see them. In another moment he would have reached their bench. The Iman appeared to realize what was passing through her mind. From his pocket he took the pistol and handed it to her. Amazed and timid, she held it gingerly in her fingers. “If you'll promise not to run away—to go back to your husband—I’ll promise you that I wou’t do what I was going to.” His look was one of appeal, of stanch- est resolution. For a moment Elaine hung ‘her head. then she nodded assent. She dared not trust herself to speak, but a sudden feeling of gladness swept all doubt from: her mind. The stranger left her with a smile in front of a subway kiosk. She hadn’t told him who she was and had respected his evident desire to remain unknown. Ashamed of herself, yet somehow glad because of what she had done, she made her way with breath- less haste to her little flat. Some day she’d tell Tony—take all the blame on herself—but now the thing that she wanted most was to destroy the note that she had left for him. Then, when she’d found and torn it up, she hurried out again. It was after 3 o’clock when she reached the theatre. Sitting in the darkness of the orchestra pit, she watched the tiny twinkling light of her husband’s ba- ton. The tears rolled slowly down her cheeks, but she didn’t care. wanted to feel herself in Tony’s arms again. And as soon as the intermis- sion came she hurried back of the stage. Tony was standing in the wings, his features wreathed in smiles. “Did you hear him sing it ?”” he asked as he crossed to her side. “My song brought down the house.” He playfully strok- one——" She looked at him in amazement. | “You mean that you bought me this?” “Of course,” he said, with a chuckle. When Fifi gave you all those clothes I thought it was time that hubby did a little something for you.” “But, Tony, you couldn’t afford it!” She was conscience-stricken. “Well, it won't be long till I can.” It was time to go back to his orchestra chair, but suddenly he beckoned to some one who was coming out of one of the dressing’rooms. “It’s Hamil- ton Glenn,” he whispered. “I want vou to meet and thank him for what he’s done for us.” Then as he presented her, Tony hur- ‘ried away. As though she had sud- denly seen a ghost, Elaine stared at the singer. There was a twinkle in his eyes and just the trace of a doubt on his handsome features. It was the man she had met in the park—the man whose pistol was concealed in her handbag now. “lI hope you won't be angry,” he said in a muted tone. “Why should I be?” she asked, un- comprehendingly. “Look at the pistol,” he told her, and took it from her bag. There wasn’t a cartridge in it. It never had been loaded. “Last night at the Lambs Club I heard Martin Roberts talking. Tony had told me a little about the situation at home, but he never suspected what I learned from Roberts’ caddish boasts. I'd do a lof for Tony, my dear—so I planned to be at your trysting place at the ap- pointed time. I knew that it would be fruitless to try te change your mind by arguments or pleas, but I was sure that if you knew how much Tony loves you, you’d never go away.” “Then you never intended to shoot yourself ?” stammered Elaine in a daze. “The story you told me wasn’t your own—it was really Tony’s ?” “You've guessed it,” nodded Glenn. “I hoped that my little plan would work. It’s going to, isn’t it?” “Of course it is,” smiled Elaine, as she gratefully clasped his hand in sign of her solemn pledge. “You're the finest man I've ever known » “No, I'm not.” He shook his head. “But I am a very good actor!”—By Oliver Panbourne, Nearly 500 Prosecutions for Violation of Fishing Laws. During 1926 there were 494 prose- cutions for violation of the Pennsyl- vania fishing laws, the board of fish commissioners announced recently. Fines collected within the year for violations totaled $13,073. The ma- jority of the prosecutions were for use of illegal devices and fishing without a license. The board’s income for the year totalled $498,642 of which more thaa half was received from resident fish- licenses. Expenditures were $247,563 and of this amount $114,- 754 was incurred in hatchery opera- tions. Fish to the number of 826,567, ranging in size from one and one-half to twelve inches, were distributed. The largest distributions were of pike and yellow perch. In outkning its other activities for the year the board reported that it had completed surveys of streams in fifteen counties to provide for a well balanced distribution of fish; complet- ed an extension to the Pleasant Mount hatchery, constructed seven ponds at the Bellefonte hatchery and purchased additional land of rearing ponds at the Corry hatchery and a site for a new hatchery in Bedford county. ———— A fe ————— —Subseribe for the Watchman. She only | n - _. | FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN. DAILY THOUGHT. That which is called “considering what iis our duty” in a particular case is very | often nothing but endeavoring to explain | it away.—Bishop Butler. —The spring openings are in full swing in the great salons here where: the new styles are presented for the first time to an impatient public. The ever-present note in the season’s mode is a simplicity even greater than last year, and comfort and practicalness are emphasized everywhere in the various sports clothes, the afternoon ensembles—the ensemble has lost none 1of its popularity—and in the evening gowns. { The hats remain small, and have little trimming. That little, though. is recherche, and always bears an ap- propriate relationship to the ensemble. | Details were never before of such | great importance, and the accessories,. ' carefully matched, oftentimes afford the only trimming to a toilette in t which a solid-color gown is worn. The matching hats to the trimming of a gown, rather than to the gown itself, is becoming increasingly popular, as I prophesied in a recent cable, and al- though more lace is seen, only the flat laces are being worn. This does not mean that lace has returned to popu- larity such as it has enjoyed in sea- sons past. This cannot possibly be true for several seasons at least, as the masculine influence in women’s dress is too strong at present to per- mit the return on a wholesale scale of gen an essentially feminine thing as ace. i Never in the history of fashions have the changes been so few, and’ several competent critics have remark- ed that this season’s collections are Just a slightly supplemented version j of last season’s collections. There are some new materials, of course, espe- cially many new crepes, for the crepes will all be popular, but the lines have changed very little and are only dis- | cernible in a little raise of the waist- !line and a lengthening of two inches ; at the most in the skirts, The straw hats are somewhat large, particularly those of Milan straw, and’ | these are worn with light “lawn” ! dresses. There is little trimming on | these. | Felt hats will be good all year, and an Immense variety of ornaments are worn on these, and also on silk hats. e ornaments sometimes match the- dress, whereas the hats themselves jed the furpiece she wore about her | match the trimming of the dress. “Hamilton . neck. “Now I can buy you a deecnt | Sometimes, too, the ornaments—usu- ally pins—are of two colors, one- matching the dress and one the trim- ming of the dress. The two-piece or jumper suit is not passe, for many are seen in the new: collections in cashmere, crepella, kasha, woolens and soft angoras and’ | numerous other materials. This, like many other former styles, remains: i good because of its extremely prac- j tical qualities. i Crepella is remarkably popular and | hundreds of models are seen in this. graceful material that lends itself so- willingly to the popular summer ef-. | fects and ‘blends so. well with othr. , materials used for trimming. Lots of pleating is seen'in the new [ models, and the box pleat is espcial- i ly prominent in sports models. Plaids are still present, especially in the sports clothes, hut they are not So gay as in former seasons. The- mauve and white plaid is much seen, for example, and this is indicative of" the conservative plaid tendency. Milan straw will be the most popu- lar straw for the new hats. The , brims will be considerably wider than - on other hats and there will be more trimming, which for the most part is flat. This straw is seen in all colors and the trimming often consists of I cut-out flowers applied in contrasting . shades. No high or wavy trimming- ‘ for these hats has yet been favored. | The pastel shades have never been : so popular, and they will be favored throughout the spring and summer, according to the many couturiers: Whose collections abound with these f onservative but lovely and distin- guished tints. All the blues are smiled upon by | the greatest couturiers, and there is no doubt about these—especially navy i blue and sand color (sable)—remain- ing extremely good throughout the- | summer season. —London,—Skirts are going to be shorter than ever, so far as London is concerned. This was revealed at a dress parade held at Hotel Savoy. Not a single dress shown—either for day or evening wear—was cut below the knees. Dress materials, it appears, are con. stantly getting lighter in weight. The new woolens and silk-and-woolen mix- tures try to compete with silk crepe,. There is a very attractive new Eng- lish material which is called “Angora stockinette.” It is made of silk and rabbit’s wool. The tailored suit, according to all indications, is fast regaining the pop- ularity it enjoyed a few seasons ago. It is featured strongly in the Paris openings of such important couturiers as Philippe et Gaston, Agnes, Lucien Lelong Bernard et Cie, and smart New Yorkers are adopting its trim lines for spring. The navy tailleur especially is faced, although oxford mixtures in navy and slate also are popular. Among the navy suits displayed in- dividuality with pipings of braid or satin. Others sponsor the vogue for tucked treatments on the pockets, or bordered effects. The oxford mode, particularly smart with the two-skin scarf, also is sponsored. The mannish vogue is now combined with compose effects. In some the checks and stripes of the skirts are used as piping on the coats. Others are more traditionally mannish, with skirts of trouser material and two creases down the front. Many of the jackets have the masculine tuxedo collar. The center closing is a new note inspired by the fashion for the cardi- gan. Buttons set close together and narrow revers give the finishing touches to some of the jackets at Macy's.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers