Bellefonte, Pa., March 8, 1929.
EE EE ETE,
THE BEAUTIFUL.
Beautiful faces are those that wear—
It matters little if dark or fair—
Whole-souled honesty printed there.
Beautiful eyes are those that show,
Like crystal panes where earth fires glow,
Beautiful thoughts that burn below.
Beautiful lips are those whose words
Leap from the heart like songs of birds,
Yet whose utterance prudence girds.
Beautiful hands are those that do
Work that is earnest and brave and true
Moment by moment the long day through.
Beautiful feet are those that go
On kindly ministry to and fro,
Down lowliest ways, if God wills it so.
Beautiful shoulders are those that bear
Ceaseless burdens of homely care
With patience, grace and daily prayer.
Beautiful lives are those that bless—
ilen {uers han
Beautiful rest with work well done.
Beautiful grace where grasses creep,
Where brown leaves fall, where drifts lie
deep,
Over worn-out hands—oh, beautiful sleep!
HOW ST. PATRICK SAVES THE
» IRISH.
There are distinctions. The person
(or nation) of one distinction is apt
to be blind to many others. The
Frenchman is rational. His ability to
be witty may blind him to many oth-
er qualities, including that of merri- |
ment. And the Englishman, to whom
merriment is native, may have neith-
er eye nor ear for the gayety which
Ireland loves.
Now of these three—wit, merri-
ment and gayety—the greatest is
gayety; for, like poetry and the cham-
eleon, it can live almost upon noth-
ing, and be the better for its lack. To
be witty one must be abominably
thoughtful. To be merry one must
be exhaustingly comfortable. But to
be gay one needs only to be alive.
On the whole, an Irishman’s lot
should be a happy one. It may be
that the number of things which he
can enjoy in his own land are severe-
ly restricted—and foreigners have
been known to assert that there is
nothing to enjoy in. Ireland except
bad weather—but, even if everything
else should lack, he can enjoy his
own superabundant energy. And,
given that he had made peace with
this world, he need not (as all other
poor nations must) be in any doubt
as to his destiny in the world to come.
He may thank mythological
and heries and deities—his immem-
orial past, that is—for his energy,
but he should render a special grati-
tude to St. Patrick for services giv-
en in the second instance, and which
he will for a long time give.
This, if the reader will permit, is
how it happened:
According to the Irish calendar,
the second day of February
first day of Spring, and it is also the
feast day of St. Brigid (pronounced
Breed.)
‘There has never been a period
when a personage of this name was
not in Ireland. In very ancient times
Brigid was the goddess of poetry.
In less ancient times, by a shocking
but logical declension, she became the
goddess of war; and in the compara-
tively recent day which represents
the year 1 of this era she became the
respected patron of the new religion
and the beloved “Mary of the Gael.”
Poets, soldiers, saints—these are
great travelers. By creating, de-
stroying, preserving, they accomplish
the work of the world and, like the
Siva of another mythology, our Brig-
id seems to have been mistress of the
foes great—the three divine—quali-
ies.
She was traveling in the east of the
world and came to an overcrowded
little town; and as she went from
place to place seeking shelter she
came to a stable and went in. A
man and a woman were there before
her, and the woman was in the pangs
of childbirth. It was Brigid who
helped her and it was in Brigid's cloak
that the Child was born, Hence she
is known as Brigid of the Mantle.
as the Foster Mother of Christ and
as, after Mary, His Best Beloved.
Then the years rolled on and she
went from this world. Then the years
surged again, 430 of them, and St.
Patrick came to Ireland; and then,
after the passage of some more years,
St. Patrick died; but his faith was
established in the country that he
loved.
The scene of this tale next changes
to Heaven itself. Brigid and Patrick
were walking together. They were,
God help them, talking about Ireland,
one asking the other had he or she
ever been to Connemara; the other
asking the one if she or he remem-
bered the Dingle Peninsula, and how
it looked in storm. Or Ben of Gul-
bain seen with the moon alight. Or
yon basket full of lakes, where each
lake dared any other to be as beau-
tiful and every pool in Ireland lifted
the challenge.
Be sure the two saints assured
each other, or perhaps even reassur-
ed each other, in the faith that, af-
ter all, Heaven was prettier than Ire-
land.
Their walk had been a long one,
and, immersed in (as Jean O’Casey
would say) darling memories, they
had reached a place which the saints
care but rarely to visit. They had
come to the Seat of Judgment.
There the Judge sat, vaster than
Vastness, blacker than Blackness;
immovable, unescapable, terrific.
St. Brigid did not dislike Rhada-
manthus, for that would be a sin. But
she did not like him, for he had nev-
er been to Ireland nor even had he
expressed a desire to go there. As
kings |
is the ,
her gaze fell on him and off him a
| terrible thought caused her to look
iat him again—at his blank, black
' vastness, at his super-solid solidity.
She saw his great hand move this
| way and yon as, like black lightning,
(he scrutinized this and that being
{who groveled and screamed at his
awful brow.
“He,” said St. Brigid, and she was
astounded as she said it, “he would
send even an Irishman to hell!”
“He would,” said St. Patrick, but
even as he said it he went icy with
horror, for the thought had never be-
fore struck him.
The Judge looked toward them.
“I will not have it so,” said St.
Brigid, and she spoke the words, as
it were, into that all-sighted, implac-
able eye.
She drew St. Patrick with her,
away.
They went to her Foster Child and
she obtained from Him, who loved
her, this concession—that every per-
son who came from Ireland should
be judged by St. Patrick himself and
not by Rhadamanthus.
“You will be very.
said to St. Patrick.
“Surely, I will,”
answered.
“But if,” said St. Brigid, and the
heart within her was shocked, “and if
a bad Irishman is brought before
you—" 2
“I'll convert him,” said St. Patrick.
“ "Tis but one of the reasons why
Irishmen, of whatever religious or
political complexion, pledge St. Pat-
careful,” she
the great saint
why they may all be fearless of the
world to come.
was the
think that perhaps St. Brigid is not
getting her share of the praise.
er the edge of the platform.
“Down with women!” she greeted
him.
a twenty-five-foot fall is some feat !
came up and shook the water out of
‘her eyes.
“Come back,” he shouted.
thought of a stunt!”
side by side. See who goes the far-
|thest! And I'll race you around the
Noni.
length of the
dove. The girl wondered if Noni was
conscious of her bare arm as she was
of his. She could have won the race,
for she had the
that it ended in a tie.
Just then Noni’s head came up ov- |
|
“Let's go!” she sang out blithely. | With a white fur collar under her
With their arms around’ each oth- | chin, and a fetching little white hat
er’s shoulders, they ran the narrow | With some kind of a black feather
plank together and | caressing her cheek. i
float, but she slackened her pace so her on all sides.
“Hey, you!” scolded a man who | everything.
“Pride, huh? Well, that’s another
quality I want in the man I marry. I
told father he needn’t have bothered
to put all that money in my name. He
said he did it so I could marry a poor
man if I wanted to. But I'm afraid
it’s just another handicap. Unless
my proud cave man will be big
enough and broad-minded enough to
see that money is the least important
thing. Tell me, Noni, how can I get
around my caveman'’s pride?”
“Sweep him off his feet, Mad. Catch
him in a weak moment—on a moon-
light night, if possible— and marry
him before he can back out,” Noni
offered lightly. Whatever possessed
Mad to turn the conversation into
this channel? he wondered. It wasn’t
like her at all.
“Thanks, I'll remember that,” she
said. “The appropriate costume is
ruffles and lace and earrings and per-
fume, I take it?”
“Right !” smiled Noni,
crookedly.
The rest of the summer passed un-
eventfully enough. Mad continued
her never-ending contest with Noni
for superiority in the water. What
did it matter that the morning swim
usually ended by Noni’s ducking her
forcibly and standing on her prostrate
water-covered form until she sent up
large bubbles of air to beg for mercy.
It was just his way of showing exas-
peration if her high dives were more
perfect than his, or if she managed
eo swim an inch farther under water
than he did. And if the crowd agreed
that Noni was the winner of the day’s
a little
rick when his day comes round and j€vents, Le finished the program by
ducking her anyway. /
Who noticed that the short red hair
But I, an apprentice in the craft Was Browing as September drew to a
that Patrick loved and of which he close? She went regularly to the bar-
patron, am desolated to ber, but he had instructions only to
trim up the very edge at the back of
her neck.
Her farewell to Noni on October I
was as casual as her farewells always
had been. Noni was too busy getting
the Florida-Ferris Hotel ready for its
“Down you go!” he answered, pick- December opening to go up to Drum-
ing her up in his arms and tossing mond Island that fall with Mr. Hilary
her off the platform. She twisted and Mad and the men who had been
around in the air and struck the wa- | invited to accompany them for the
ter neatly—and straightening out in | duck-hunting season.
“See you in December,’ said Mad in '
“You roughneck!” she yelled as she ' farewell
But the Mad Hilary who appeared
on the outside of the desk of the new
«pye | Florida-Ferris on December 22 was
a new girl to Noni. Gone were the
Back up the ladder she scrambled. | Poyishly tailored suits, the silk shirts
“We'll run from the back of the 'and the snappy little bow ties.
platform and g0 off the diving board j the sturdy little low-heeled brogues.
Gone
Gone the masculine little hat. i
Madelon Hilary was all dressed up !
float and back up here,” proposed She had on a traveling suit of black
satin, subtly feminine in its lines,
“Ye gods ! Will you look !” gasped
Noni. “Gee, Mad! You're stunning.”
“That's not all,” bragged Mad,
inside around the : turning slowly around so he could see
“I got, hair! You
All marcelled and
I ask you now—ain’t I
ought to see!
was waiting for them on the lower i grand?” y
! platform of the float. “That was
‘dangerous! If one of you had slip-
! ped off the diving board you'd have
; hit one of the support beams.”
| “Shut up!” commanded Mad. “Old
: women, all of you, except Noni. Any-
way,” she challenged gayly, “what is
| life without the spice of danger?”
“What did you do with the sense
{ you were born with?” demanded the
man. “You haven't got any of it
Jeft!”
And Mad loved it, the frank and
sometimes brutal banter that was
girl who wasn’t afraid of that twen-
ty-five-foot dive, too.
who had interrupted - her morning
hour with Noni. “I want to talk to
Noni.” :
He went. Men always obeyed Mad’s
orders.
“Noni,” she began. “Why do the
women hate me so?”
“It’s mutual, isn’t it? And you
make no bones of showing them what
you think of them.” and Noni shrug-
ged.
“Dad recently suggested that I
make a fuss over the women. I was
thinking I might ask mother to give
an afternoon bridge, and I'd play,”
she offered as the greatest possible
sacrifice. How she did hate feminine
bridge!
“It’s pretty late to begin that now,
isn’t it?” he asked. “You'd be sup-
erciliously instructive over the first
bum play your partner made—"
“Me? Supercilious? You're crazy!”
she told him.
He shrugged. “Let the women
alone, Mad. You haven't got a fem-
inine thought in your head. Stick to
your regular playmates.”
“Yes, I have feminine thoughts,”
she told him, eyes downcast. “I—
I want to get married. That's fem-
inine, isn’t it?”
He sighed. Mad heard that sigh
with delight. “I was afraid that
marriage bug would bite you some-
time,” he said. “Then I'll lose a pal.”
“Not. necessarily,” said Mad, but
Noni didn’t seem to catch her mean-
ing.
“I suppose it's inevitable,” Noni
went on. “But why don’t you try
the feminine role before you take the
plunge?” he suggested. “Get your-
self a flock of fluffy dresses and try
being sweetly sticky for a while—"
“What has that got to do with
marriage?” Amazement was Wwrit-
ten all over the frank, boyish coun-
tenance.
“That's just the beginning,” he
laughed. “Fancy you catering to the
whims of some man ! Why, Mad, the
only safe husband for you would be
some nice feminine chap who'd let
you make all the decisions and run
the family.”
“You're crazy!” she told him again.
“I want a husband who would beat
me when I needed it—"
“Try and find one foolhardy
enough,” he scoffed.
“You would !” she assured him.
“Oh, I—" with a change of tone. “I
don’t count.”
“No! Why not!”
“I'm too poor. And you've got too
much money.”
man’s talk. She loved being the only
: hesitated.
“Go ’'way!” she said to the man
{
!
|
“I'll say! But what's the big idea ?”
She dropped him a curtsey.
“I'm being very feminine this sea-
son, sir,” she simpered.
“A lot of fun you'll have !” he scof-
fed.
“Maybe so,’ maybe not so.” She
wasn’t so sure herself. “Have my
bridge-playin’ boys got reserva-
tions?” she demanded.
“Every one. Steve and his new
wife got here yesterday.”
“Good,” said Mad with satisfaction.
“That'll be a relief from—"
“From what?” he urged, as she
“From the women, drat '’em! I'm
going to cultivate them. Find out how
they do it,” she told him.
‘Do what?” he wanted to know.
She leaned far over the desk. As
far as tiptoes and 5 feet 2 would per-
mit.
“Catch a husband !” she whispered.
Noni howled with glee.
“Kinda hipped on that subject—eh,
what ?’ he teased.
“Nope,” she denied. Hipped on one
man. Got to find out how to make
him see it.”
“You will,” he chortled. “He hasn't
got a chance !” i
“I hope not,” said Mad seriously.
The only relief Madelon Hilary had
from the stifling feminine activities
she had condemned herself to was the
water. And more than one man who
had danced with a befrilled, bepow-
dered, not to mention “befreckled” hit
of dainty femininity the night before
refused to credit his senses when he
saw her in the water the next morn-
ing. Mad Hilary was her old natural
self in the water, except that these
days she had to wear a bathing cap,
which irked mightily, because that
pesky marcel had to be treasured.
She couldn't be bothered having it
put in new every day.
And if Mad Hilary had been pop-
ular with the men before, she certain-
ly was a knockout this winter. The
women gossiped and buzzed about her
harder than ever. Not only did she
compete with the girls on their own
ground but she eclipsed them entirely |
during the bathing hour. And the |
nightly bridge with her ‘gang” went
on and on. |
If her bridge-playing men friends
were a little aghast at the loss of a
pal outside the cardroom, they forgot
it when she settled down to her usual
serious masculine bridge. As usual,
their cardroom was forbidden terri- |
tory to all other women, and Steve's |
new wife led the anvil chorus on that
subject. If Mad was a bit incon- !
gruous inher new finery in that!
smoke-filled room they forgot it, for
Mad Hilary played a marvelous game |
of bridge.
And Noni? He was bewildered.
Gone was the little boyish pal of oth-
er seasons, except during the bathing
hour. Gone was the brutal give and
take of the man talk she had so loved
Gone was the disdain of taking femi-
nine advantages. Gone was his dear |
al !
> It was worse than having her mar-
ried to somebody. She'd still have
been the same old Mad, no matter
how much married. But this simper-
ing, big-eyed girl playing up to the
men and sweet consideration of the
women was almost more than he
could stand.
If Madelon Hilary had never had a
lover before, she made up for the de-
ficiency this winter. Only her bridge
hours were free from fawning, sup-
plicating males. The only satisfac-
tion Noni got out of the whole affair
was her sturdy clinging to the even-
ing hours for bridge with her “gang.”
They wouldn't make love to her.
After dinner Mad would dance till
9 o'clock and promptly on the hour
disappeared in the direction of the
cardroom. Sometimes Noni looked
in at them and found them wordless,
concentrated, unconscious even of his
presence.
In the water of mornings and in
the cardroom in the evenings was all
that was left of the Mad he loved. He
made no attempt to deny—in his
thoughts—his love for the girl. But
he did regret with his whole heart
that he'd been induced to tell his
business ambitions to her f:.ther that
night two years ago. And he doubly
regretted his acceptance of Mr. Hila-
ry’s offer to finance the string of ho-
tels of which the Michigan Hilary-
Ferris and the new Florida-Ferris
were the first two.
He just hadn't nerve to test Mr.
Hilary's generosity to the extent of
asking him for his daughter, even if
her father had given him every pos-
ible evidence of his approval and lik-
ing. It never dawned upon Noni that
Mad had persuaded her father to put
Noni in a fairly independent position
financially, just so he would be able
to marry without being called a for-
tune hunter.
So sought after was Mad these
days that the only private conversa-
tion Noni
the water. Sometimes the swam
out beyond the earshot of the more
timid bathers and floated around,
happily chattering. One morning,
along in February, when the season
was drawing to a close, Mad said:
“I think I've learned the necessary
tricks. Three men proposed to me
last night between dinner and bridge.
That's pretty good, don’t you think?”
“And what did you do?” asked Noni.
“Told 'em I was in love with anoth-
er man.’”’
“Oh!” It was more like a moan
than an exclamation. “Let's go
ashore,” he called over his shoulder
as he struck out.
“Wait !” she called as he reached
the beach. “Noni, can’t you take me
for a drive this afternoon?”
“Can I refuse you anything?” he
asked, with a wry sort of smile that
exposed rather than hid his heart-
ache.
“Be yourself, Noni !” she admonish-
ed. ‘This fluffy-ruffie stuff was your
idea. You told me it was good man-
bait !”
“You be yourself !” he told her
sternly. “You're the one who's being
anything but natural. I can’t bear to
see you making such a fool of your-
self !”
“All right ! See you at 2 !” she cal-
led gayly. “And I'll be myself, too !”
It was the Mad Hilary of other
times who waited for Noni on the
south veranda. The marcelled red
hair was hidden by a plain little
panama hat with a mannish black
band. The little feet were again in
sturdy brown brogues and woolen
hose. Instead of the elaborate frocks
she had worn for afternoons all win-
ter, there was the plain little tan flan-
nel suit that was exactly right for
Mad Hilary, and the white silk blouse
with its round collar and its soft
Windsor tie. His Mad !
“Now I've got my girl back,” said
Noni with decided satisfaction.
“Gosh! You don’t know how I've mis-
sed you !”
“I've missed myself,” said Mad.
i “But all for love and the devil take
comfort !” she laughed.
Out along the road that parallelled
the beach they drove. Out to the Hi-
lary home that had not been opened !
that season. Into the drive and out
into the garden that was as carefully ,
tended as if the Hilarys were expect-
ed at any moment.
“Gad! It's good to be natural!”
crowed Mad, flinging herself flat on
the green turf which was kept green
at such a great expense.
“You'll never know how good it is
to have you natural !” the man beam-
ed, dropping down beside her.
“You wished a fine scheme onto
me !” chided Mad. “Trying out the
feminine role! Another month of it
would bore me to extinction! And
it failed ! How the devil am I going to
get the right man to propose to me?”
“What man?” asked Noni, all the
joy gone from his face. How could
he bear to see this girl go to another
man’s arms?
“You should ask me!”
Mad. “Got any ideas?”
It was too much for Noni’s long-
tried restraint. Roughly he picked
her up. Roughly he drew her across
his lap. Roughly he kissed her.
laughed
Savagely, as if he would teach her to
play with love. The restraining dam
of pride had burst, gone out on the
flood of love and desire. ‘All for
love,” she said, “and the devil take
comfort.” Take pride, too !
“Why, Noni!” she teased, the bruis-
ed lips twitching with the delight she
was trying to hide. “I believe this is
the time to say, “This is sosudden !"
“Sudden, you little idiot !” growled
Noni. “Haven't I been mad about you
ofr years? Sudden! You ought to
Sudden !” he shook her,
laughed delightedly.
“Well, then, what is it, if it isn’t
sudden?” she asked.
“It’s inevitable—God help me !” he
sighed.
“Go on,” she urged.
of it!”
“Add another proposal to your
string? And have you tell me you're
in love with another man?” He kissed
her again, tenderly this time, as if in
eternal farewell. “Oh, all right. I'd
do more than that for you.
Mad, precious! Will you oh, won't
you— marry me?”
“That isn’t all !” she coaxed.
“Do you have to be told that I
adore you? That for me there isn't
another woman on earth? ? That the
sun goes down, never to rise again,
“Say the rest
ever got with her was in
Mad ! |
when you marry this caveman you
want? Oh, don’t you know all that,
Mad, darling ?”
“Noni ! You sweet idiot ! Kiss me
again !” This time two arms went
suddenly around his neck. Two red-
brown eyes, misted with happy tears,
Sane close to his. Two red lips sought
S.
Time was not while she clung to
him. Shadows crept out from beneath
the trees and touched them before
she stirred. Life and its possibilities
had risen to a new high peak, and
she wanted to hold it there forever.
What an hour this has been ! Reluct-
antly she freed one hand and fished in
her coat pocket. “Look! she com-
manded.
What she produced was a marriage
license, dated December 22—the day
she had arrived in Florida—made out
to Madelon Hilary and Benoni Ferris.
“Oh, Mad, darling ! Have you been
trying to tell me—all the time ? Was
it—was I-—oh, Mad! And I thought
this was farewell !”
He crushed her to him again, bath-
ing her face with a strong man’s
tears.
| “Sure was, old thing,” Mad choked
a bit on it. ‘You said you'd have to
be rushed off your feet, and it isn't
moonlight. Oh, let's go and find a
minister before you change your
mind !”
“I'll never change my mind, dar-
ling ! Never !” he promised.
“Well,” said she, scrambling to her
feet and putting the folded paper
carefully back into her pocket, “it's
just as well not to take a chance!”
But she grinned impishly as she said
vit.
And that’s how Mad Hilary
her man.”—Public Ledger.
ese este eee ee.
Co-operation in Roadside Planting.
“got
The Pennsylvania department of
highways is desirous of having indi-
viduals and organizations plant road-
side trees for the protection and
beautification of the state highways
and adjacent lands. To encourage
this work the department gladly will
cooperate with interested individuals
and organizations, insofar as its
funds will permit, by planting and
maintaining trees furnished f. o. b.
the roadside. The probable cost of
trees, nurseries that have them for
sale, the kinds to plant and other in-
formation will be furnished free upon
request.
In deciding upon a location for
planting, those providing the trees
should select an area along a durable
type of pavement and on ultimate
grade and location so the trees will
not be disturbed by road relocation or
construction. Nor should shade trees
be planted directly under telephone,
telegraph or transmission wires,
where they will be subject to severe
pruning when they mature.
The right is reserved by the depart-
ment to pass upon the kind of trees
to be planted, their size, spacing
and other details.
Both avenue and group planting
are favored, the oaks, maples and
elms being very desirable’ for avenue
planting. Trees from 11% to 2 inches
in diameter, eight to twelve feet in
height are best. They should be spac-
ed about fifty feet apart on both sides
of the highway and from one to two
feet inside the highway right of way.
There is more latitude in choice of
variety in the group, or informal
plantings. Individual shade or orna-
mental trees may be planted with
shrubs and vines of various kinds and
sizes to create a natural effect.
Supplying trees at the roadside
‘may be regarded as the initial effort
that looks forward to the protection
and beautification of the highways.
After a tree is purchased, it must be
planted, watered, mulched, sprayed,
trimmed and protected until a heal-
‘thy, vigorous, mature growth is at-
tained.
1
Six Lawyers in Hoover’s Cabinet.
Six lawyers, one banker, one en-
gineer, one educator and one former
steel worker make up the Cabinet of
President Hoover.- Eight of them
exceed him in age by from ome to
twenty-ofie years; one is of his own
age, 54, and the tenth is three years
his junior. The ten are:
{ Secretary of State, Henry L. Stim-
son, of New York, lawyer, aged 62.
Secretary of the Treasury, Andrew
W. Mellon, of Pennsylvania, banker,
aged 75.
Secretary of War, James W. Good,
of Iowa, lawyer, aged 63.
Attorney General, William D.
Mitchell, of Minnesota, aged 55.
Postmaster General, Walter F.
Brown, of Ohio, lawyer, aged 60.
Secretary of the Navy, Charles
Francis Adams, of Massachusetts,
| lawyer, aged 63.
| Secretary of Interior, Dr. Ray Ly-
man Wilbur, of California, educator,
“aged 54.
Secretary of Agriculture, Arthur
M. Hyde, of Missouri, lawyer, aged
51.
| Secretary of Commerce, Robert P.
Lamont, of Ilinois, engineer, aged 62.
| Secretary of Labor, James J. Davis,
of Pennsylvania, former steel worker,
| aged 56.
rn ti.
——The Western farmers are will-
ing to live another year on promises.
| compliment me in my forebearance! How St. Patrick Got His Reputation.
and she |
Most people think of St. Patrick as
| Irish. Of course he was not. The
| chief thing that legend attributes to
him was the honor or driving all the
snakes out of Ireland. History does
not record the event. I think that
| the story must have arisen from the
fact that Patrick took refuge after
_—-
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
There are three things that I have al-
ways loved and have never understood—
painting, music and woman.—Benard le
Bovier de Fontenelle.
For the first act of the Spring style
drama in hats the simpler designs
are shown sports, semi-sports shapes
and hats for general utility to ac-
company the first suits and ensem-
bles for early Spring. The flower
motif which is being stressed ap-
pears on some of the new hats, but
is used with discretion, and is re-
served for more lavish trimming on.
dressier models for Summer.
Protests from the friends of work-
ers against the plain cloche in mil-
linery of the feminine type are un-
availing, for it blooms in the show-
room and window of every exclusive
millinery shop and is flooding the
larger fashion market. The shapes
are myriad, but the idea is the same
that has prevailed since war days,
expressed in felt, silk, straw and sev-
eral kinds and in some new and in-
teresting combinations of straw and
fabric. The arresting point in al¥
displays of sports hats is the scarcity
of black. For several seasons wo-
men have worn the black felt cloche-
almost as a uniform and have man-
aged to make it serve almost every
occasion, until a little black felt hat,
however plain, has been seen with even
the most elaborate costumes and at
quite formal affairs. This inconsist--
ency has been adjusted, but the felt
cloche carries on for tailored dress.
This year’s crown is a little higher,
fuller and more becoming to most
faces, and at least a gesture of trim-
ming is shown on most of the shapes.
Many original and clever designs are-
worked out in the shape, especially"
in the brim, which is cut in varying
widths and lines to form new pat-
terns. The cloche which shades the-
face and the reverse style turned’
abruptly off the brow with a brim,
sometimes very wide, at the Sides or
back are both conspicuous among
the late styles from Paris. In all of
these, almost without exception, more
graceful lines and a design that is:
greatly softened are evident.
First among the most conserva--
tive designs in felt is a simple little
cloche which shades the face with a
narrow brim, with raw edge tapering"
along the sides to nothing at the
back. A narrow grosgrain ribbon
drawn around the crown is tied in a.
bow in the middle front. In a se-
verely plain felt hat of this sort the-
brim is hand-sewn over the crown,
and each edge of the felt is cut with-
out finish sometimes in points, or:
scallops. The inevitable pin or orna-
ment is added to some shapes, but in
new forms and a fancy bow or motif"
or ribbon or a stiffly made flower is
a later style. The smarter hats of
the cloche type dip at one side to
cover one ear or are made to cover:
both ears. This is done in some:
models by cutting the brim longer at
the sides and in others by adding a:
piece which is folded over or arrang-
ed in a cluster of pleats to form a.
fan, relieving the severity of the
shape. In these the line in front is-
usually close, sometimes cut sheer"
with the crown with the effect of a:
skull cap with ear flaps, an extreme
mode that is so strongly featured in:
the hats from Reboux.
The felt cloche is used as a bisis-
for a great many new styles in form
and in the arrangement of whatever
trimming may be added. Some of"
the latest models have quite wide
brims that droop limply all around’
or are slashed, shaped or tucked
back to give variety. One of these
hats to be worn with a sports frock
or suit is made of tan felt, trimmed
with only a narrow strap of ribbon
in the same shade of the felt, with a
brim that is practically: the same
width all around. One smaller model’
is narrowed at the back and has an
amber buckle directly in front. A
surprising number of shapes may be:
evolved from the one cloche founda-
tion, and only a touch is needed to
give each hat a distinctive air.
In one of the new French models:
of rosy beige felt the crown is full’
and high,and the brim, which shades:
. across the brow with the side pieces:
stitched on the crown, with notched’
ends high in front, and drooping"
close and Iow at each side.
In a hat of less tailored type Re-
boux uses black soleil, rolling the:
brim in a graceful line across the:
front and around one side, and fin-
ishing the other side with a soft bow"
of the material drawn through the:
crown. Christine of Paris is showing"
a semi-sports hat of black felt with:
brim turned up across the front,.
down at the back, and trimmed with
bands of soleil to form a point over:
one eye and another at the back. The:
eyes in front, is cut in graceful curv-
ing lines, making the sides wider,
tapering and fitting close to the neck
at the back. A strip of the felt is
drawn tightly around the crown, with:
fancy cross-bars of the goods stitch--
ed at each side. Among the less con--
servative models in felt one Has a
brim that is slashed to the crown:
in front, and flares sharply at the:
| sides and back. The very latest in
i this model has the crown tilted far:
back on the head, with a brim show-
ing the brow in front, widening at
[tne sides and fitting closely and more
narrow at the back. With just a
, slight twist the brim of a light beige:
felt cloche folds back from the face,.
showing the hair at one side and’
rippling close to the head along the:
other side and across the back. The"
crown of this model is creased in two:
broken lines, and a strap of the felt
is drawn around the crown and holds
in place the folded brim. Some of”
his escape from captivity in the is- | these tailored brim hats are softened’
land cloister of Lerinus. In the be-
' ginning, Lerinus had been infested
by snakes, so that no man could live
there. Honoratus, a monk, took pos-
session of it, drove out the snakes
and reclaimed it for cultivation.
| Hence the confusion. I imagine the
snakes were all gone by the time
Patrick reached there.
rn —————— A a icon
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| with an ornamental bow of many
loops and clipped ends. Others are
trimmed with wide ribbon to match
the hat or in a different color.
—Griddle cakes can be served as a
, dessert by spreading with jelly or
i preserves and then rolling like a jel--
P roll.
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