Patience, Patiently e¢iimb up the hillside of life: Patiently meet with its turmoil and strife; Carry its burdens and cares as they're due, Paueutly, hopefully, all the way through. Patiently strive; when thy hopes are de layed, And thy aims for the right are by evil be trayed, Let thy heart not grow weary not nor fall, Strive patiently, earnestly, truth must pre- vail, and faint Patiently wait, when the cold breath of bhiame Unkindly, name, Fear not but *‘thy light will break forth as the day." Faithfully, steadily, keep the right way. unjustly would tarnish thy Patiently bear with the proud glance of scorn, And the harsh word which enters the sou like a thorn; Oh! let not thelr poison envenom thy heart, The arm of the Mighty's thy shield from their dart. Patiently bow, when sorrows dark cloud May break on thy sky and its brightness enshroad; When thy hopes are all failed, thy joys are all crushed, And thy soul In its anguish is bowed to the duse Yet fret not, nor murmur, though deep is thy gloom, And the “light of their eyes” hath been quenched in the Tomb, For the calin voice of Patience will soothe thee to ress, As it whispers “Thy will must be done’ — it is best, Then patiently, humbly aud hopefully go Up the highway of life through its turmoil and woe, Till the voice of the Master shall sound the well-done, Through faith and through patience thou hast overcomne, RE ROSIE A SOCIAL PRESCRIPTION. Aribur Brenton was a young maa sed of some money and a good deal of ability. Bat somethicg else, in | turn, possessed him, namely, a passion, It was not a passiouv that led him into any folly, unless overwork he counted as dissipation. 1t was not the passion sume things, was pure insanity. Let us be jmst to Reed. He felt very sorry for the fact; but he decided that his duty at present was to keep the mourn- ful secret to himself. Other people did not seem to suspect it all, Brenton had a large circle of non-conducting or unelectrioal friends, who had long been trying to draw him into their gayeties, and were only too glad that he had at last hearkened to their persuasions. They knew he was not bright. They were rejoiced to see him take his proper place and rapidly become a favorite. The Parets were especially well pleased. They, as every one knows, were immensely rieh, Old Miss Sarah Paret, who, with no need of money, had become a sort of receiving reservoir of the family wealth, was looked upon with interest by all the branches which acted as distributing regarvoirs; and old Miss Sarah had long ago taken a fanoy to Brenton. I sus- pected her of having for some time planned a mateh between him and her niece, Lily Paret--the one he had sat next to ut the dinner I have mentioned, Miss Sarah was too proud, too rich and too madenly to divaige this amatory plan; but I suspected her all the same, It gave her great delight to see the in- terest in the young man which Lily showed. And, as Brenton pald a great deal of attention to Lily Paret, nearly every one began to agree that he had forsaken science for society, and that, instead of devoting himself to units of classical measurement, he would doubt less very soon begin an experiment with | two lives made a unit by marriage. | {| Lily had always been indifferent to | the adanrers who had presented them- selves during the two or three seasons | since she had made her social debut, | | And fiualiy her parents and old Miss | | Sarah grew anxious at her lack of zest | | for the good things Hf the Ife to which | i she was born, But when Brenton ap- peared on the scene and gave himself | up to the pleasures of the world, his | example seemed to do her good, and she became quite herself again, Or was it herself with a little something | added? Certainly, no one before had | seen her eyes sparkle eo brightly or her | cheeks blush with so happy a glow as | ROW, “‘And you really think you will give | up permanently’ your secluded life?” | she asked him once, when they were | chatting alone in the corner, after one | of old Miss Sarah's solemnly elegant | Sunday teas. *‘Yon have beea so wed. | ded to scieace, don't you know, I doubt | whether you could ever break your that eontrols or molds nine-tenths of the human race. The object of his | adoration had its origin in the most in- | tense heat imaginable; but its radiance was cold and impersonal, He cared more for the sharp, quick, selfish sparkles from a dynamo machine than | for the light of wit or tenderness in a | woman's eye, The passion that pos- | sessed him was for electricity. ! *] ean’t understand this at all,” said his friend Reed, picking up in Brenton's | rooms one dey a pamphlet filled with | long mathematical formn'® and strange | designs of instruments, ‘Can't under- | stand it any more than [ can your ab- sorption in this pursuit, How can you go on with such horribly dry reading?” | Brenton replied: *“The dryness of the | reading, my boy, only increases my | thirst for knowledge.” | “Of course,” said Ried. After an | instant he laughed, and added: “*Oh, I understand that! It's a joke! Bat don't you ever get tired out?” “Yes,” Brenton admitted. ‘The fact is, I'm tired mow for almost the first | time, Somehow, I'm losing interest iu | my studies, My head doesn’t work | well, and I don’t know what the treuble | a.” ! ‘‘Beticr see a doctor,” Reed advised. And Brenton went to nis physician that very evening. A few days later | Reed was surprised to meet him at a | dinner parly, for his friend was a man | who seldom went oul, Brenton was extremely gay, and seemed to throw his | whele heart into the aflairr, What he | was throwing into the couversation with | his neighbor, pretty Miss Paret, Reed | could not tell, but she was evidently | pleased. “Well, old fellow,” Ried said to hum | when they were smoking, '‘you seem in | good trim; 1 take it you are all right.” | “There's nothing mn the world tbe | matter with me,” Brenton answered, | buoyantly, *“‘Doctor said so, Let us | live and be happy!” i This rollicking manner was so un- | usual in him that Bed began to think | there was something the matter, He worried himself about his friend’s braio. | Reed was never troubled about his own | brain, although he frequently rollioked | and went much into society, Bat his | concern for Brenton deepened, as he | met him day after day and night after | night at receptions, dioners and even ut | balls. The worst shock was still to | come, One remarkable midnight he | found himself sitting opposite Brenton at a select little poker party in the | house of a friend; aud they parted at 6 | o'clock in the morning, Brenton having | bet freely and lost a couple of hundrad, | “Look here, Arthur,” said Bed, on | the doorstep, feeling it his duty to speak, *‘this isu’t the sort of thing for you at all, Tou don’t know how to play poker and you can't afford to pay for yoar ignorance,” “Steady now, Reed,” answered Bren- ton, who had drunk vothiog but seltzer during the wight; *‘l am all the richer for having lost two hundred sud odd dollars, “Well, but your work,” Reed insisted with the Jatiiurly heuevolsnos inspired by his wonted at the card table. “How cau youn go along in this drive and attend to your work?” “1 don’t do any,” said Brenton, “But—-but your electricity, I mean,” i : looked severe, ‘‘Don’t men. 1 word to me,” said he. **I fon a about el Hyg after there was Without letting her finish, he eaid: | ‘Possibly 1 might break my heart out | And he looked at her | in such a way that she could hardly | doubt his wish to convey the idea that she would be the canse of the catastro- phe. “Oh, you know what I meant,” she | said, quite lightly and laughing. f Jrenton perhaps was more earnest aud engaging than he knew, as he re. plied: **The question is, do you know what I mean?” Lily was equal to the situation s'iil. “Ah, welll if you have so little faith | in my knowledge as that-—" he be- | gan, Just then they were interrupted | by Julian Reed, who approached, cast. ing a glance of solitude at Breaton, and at once set out to talk eminently | sane commonplaces, by way of au ex. ample. In the ensuing weeks Brenton was more assiduous than ever, He came to see Lily Paret as often as he reasonably | conld. He danced with her, sent her flowers, made himself her servant, He did all the baskiog in the sunshine of | young man who is in love. And sll the time old Miss Sarah thought he seemed | to grow stronger, brighter, handsomer, | “Lily 1s his very lite!” sbe exclaamed rhapsodically, ia the privacy of her | lonely house, to the Paret diamouds, | which were the only confidstts she had, Matters went on thus for two months, Then Brenton suddenly disappeared. He was seen no more in club or cafe, was asking: ‘What can have become of him?” Old Miss Sarah could not make it out, Lily's mother inquired of Jalan Heed whether Brenton was ill, *‘I'm proached himself for not having told somebody about Arthur's insanity, “You're afraid he 1s?” retorted Mrs, Paret, indignantly, “It seems to me Poor Reed exoused himself feebly, and weut off to look for Brenton. Bat | it happened that the very next day Mes, Pazet, who seldom walked, was on foot | near her own house, and met Arthur | Brenton himself, looking exceedingly well, “Why, what has become of you?" | she inquired, “Nothing,” said Arthur, back to» my work, as usual,” “I'll tell you,” he smd, *‘I had oon- | fined myself too closely. My doctor | said | must throw everything over aod | take recreation. He prescribed society, I accepted his advice, I've had a splendid time, and now I'm all fresh again for my studies,’ “OL!” Mrs, Paret returned, some- what chillingly. “I'm glad to hear you have such a wise dootor, 1% was heroie treatment, but youve survived the dose; so it has turned out well —for ” “I've gona i “My dear Mra, Paret!” Brenton ex. claimed, “Don’t call 1t a dose. I as. sure you it hes been & chariing ex. ” aud become engrossed in some intel lectual pursuit, I should expect it to do hor a great good. Bat that is a hard thing to manage,” Lily, however, did not think it hard. She dropped society forthwith for a time, Having had a good college train. ing, she was able to start off fairly well on the preseribed line, And what branch of study do yoa think she chose? Curiously enough, electricity, in her ardent, feminine way she clung to it all winter, So that when Brenton, beginning to feel run down again, tried the old remedy and plunged into the “stream of gayety,” he did not find her there, and promptly plunged out again, The old remedy was no longer efficacious, Lily, in her new occupation, which was considered by her cirele to be un- duly eccentrie, improvad a little as to health and cheerfulness; but as for Brenton he felt his powers declining steadily, Late in May he attended a meeting a little way out of town, whioh was to witness some new and rather remarkable experiments; and, to his suprise, he found Lily there, too, The tests were the nncommon phenomenon of a May thunderstorm was suddenly developed. This interrupted the business for which the party had assembled, and they all hastily sought shelter, “What has induced you to go into this study?” Brenton asked Lily, with whoa he stood apart from the rest iu a “J might sak what has indaced you?” she said. ‘You were tired of society, I suppose?” “No, No—that is—never of Miss Paret, I am tired of myself.” “And you have kept away from us so you, to have the same feeling about you?’ Laly inquired, with arch serenity. Brenton felt some kind of a current | rushing througn his heart with more | volts than he had ever | measured, *‘If I dared to beliave,” he | began, impulsively, ‘that you would | pot tire of me—" At that instant a violent burst of thunder drowned Lis voice, * * * The | expected tests did not take place, on sccount of an electrical disturbance of the atmosphere,” us it was explained, The disturbance extended to Julian Feed when he heard of Brenwon’s en- | gagement to Luly. “Why the deuce dida’t I speak before?” he said to hime self, Bat Brenton was quite satisfied experiment, *‘The ex- change ol positive aod negative forces in our lives,” he playfully observed to Lily, “was a great success.” And old Miss Sarah, having received the news from both of them, smiled tenderly upon her oonfidential diamonds, and put a on APACHE CRUELTY, How a Heroic Indian Boy Saved His Own and His Brother's Lives, The following story of unparalleled heroism on the part of three little In- | dian children comes from a correspond- ent at Fort Apache, A. T., who, wri ting on November 24th, 15885, tells of that 1s there led on attack from the dreadful Apaches: This is the home of the Apache—a | beautiful, with | multitude of running streams, its | noble forests and gigantic mountains, | [ts rivers are stocked with the most de- licious of mountain trout, and its woods | the wild turkey. It is indesd a coun try worthy of the habitation of man; | ruthless Indians it is but 3 home fer the wild beast, and the savages, who ison a | tion. Over these wilds, the Apache his cunning black eyes ever walchfnl for the opportunity of directing him on | the camp of friend or [oe, for the Ter ritory Las scattered over its extent many an encampment of civilized Indl. | ans, who raise flourishing crops of bar. ley, as well as possess horses and stock, | Their industry is of benefit, not alone | to themselves, but to the Government, | which buys of them al liberal prices, | their sheep and their cattle, besides all the grain and hay they can bring. ! If it were not for the Apache, Arizo- | na would be covered with thriving colo | nies and would attract to it an immi- | gration that would soon make the Ter- | Bat as it is | now, not a day passes that news is not | brought into camp of some outrage, either on the encampments of white set. tlers or friendly Indians, which serves to keep the various posts always on the | tip-tose of excitement, Recently news was brought in our miles distant, had been attacked and brutally killed by the Indians. At once the peaceful character of the camp was changed. The ambulasce and a strong guard was ordered oul and immediately dispatched to the scene of the outrage, The sad news was soon confirmed, for when the detail found the bodies of the unfortunates, one of the men had no less than seven bullets and the other had two, Carefully taking up the bodies the soldiers wrapped around them their blankets, and placing them in the am. bulance, brought their corpses Lo the post, where they were put in the dead. house and buried on Thanksgiving Day, The men were old timers and had always been prepared against sudden attack, but it is supposed that they were murdered when asleep. Following close upon this intelligence hostiles i ———— ble Indians, situated quite near Camp Apache. There was no warning given of attack. The poor Indians were to- tally unprepared, when suddenly like the bursting of a thugdercloud the Apaches swarmed in upon them and conmenced an indiscriminate slaughter, Men, women and children were ruth- lessly shot down, There was no mercy shown or expected, Not till the entire camp was exterminated did the Apa ches pause to review the dreadful work, From fifteen to twenty women and as many men weltered in their blood, and did any of them show the faintest symp- toms of life, they were hacked at hew- ed at till death took them out of the power of their tormentors, As the Apaches turned to depart from their work of devastation their attention was attracted to three child- ren who had escaped the general massa- cre. Their ages were 11, 4 and 2 vears, What should be done with them was the question that arose, It was the r determined to take The children were well treated, and soon began to evince a fondness for their captors. But the brutal instincts of the Apaches were only for a time dormant. Soon murmurs were heard as to the foolishness of the children along. travel with such incumbrances., Again weapons were pointed at them, and again turned aside by friendly interpo- sition. “Abandon them,” was the demand, where they wish to go. They wiil soon They cannot become a And in the midst of the lone wilder- were abandoned to, cruel fate than death at the hands of ap Night was approaching when the re- to be preyed upon by wild beasts or die of hunger. Cowering with fright and cold, the the danger to which they were exposed —t00 young to realize But one thought was in their minds, that was to reach the post where the white and which they knew was near their home, in the drection where the sun sank at night. Ere they had dred their tears and looked about them, the band of Apaches had disappeared, Before them, in the direction of home, arose a rampart of mountains, with its bleak and dismal and wolves, Through these, past count less daogers, lay the track which would while moan. Then all the bravery of the oldest boy came to his aid, He cheered his younger brothers with soothing words, told them that there beyond the bleak mountains were the men who would give them something them play and His noble example fortified ones, and giving him their confidence, they start- ed for the mountains, be merry. the little iast— weary hungry, foot-sore—the two year old ehid threw himself on earth and said he could walk no more. Entreaties were in vain, He showed his blistered feet—an answer which ad- mitted of no reply, Then, with the aid of his brother, the elder boy managed to drag the tired boy on his back, and pur- some journey. few vards ata time, He, too, was hun- gry weak and footsore, and the rests he had to make were many. would not hesitate, Home was before him-—home with all its comforts and He would not let his cour- brothers to fail When the mountains were reached, to the yet They cave, and there passed the might, await the dawn of day, Again journey was undertaken, under more distressing circumstances, and breaking off the tender twigs chew- But not once did determination desert the little hero. He hus little charges walk, until, after for- exertion and forty-five miles of travel the post was reached, Ques more, everything was don? to make the little ones forget the danger through which they had passed; food was given them, their wounds were seen in all Arizona, There is but one feeling in the post that the Government should take them them, for the heroism which they have turned in the right direction there is in all three the stuff of which heroes are made, SI is A Brave Dakota Girl. Misa Belle Franklin, a young school. mistress of McHonry ecounty, Dakota, is the heroine of the Mussouri slope, Miss Franklio was sleeping in a shaok which she had bmilt upon her claim, when she was awakened by the oracking noise of the fire. Looking out u, she saw the dancing 2 § ; g 5 i i 5 5 : Ti Hk BORSE NOTES, -W, E. Weeks will probably drive Mr. Balley’s Tony Newell next season. ~W, J. Gordon, of Cleveland, O,, has bought the b. m. Mambrino Spar- kie, 2.19, for about $3000, ~The noted pacing stallion, Gray's Tom Hal, died at Rushville, Ind,, last week. He was 20 years old. Reconstruction is being pushed with vigor at Jerome Park. The new track will be ready fer the spring meeting. ~—W. L. Shoaf, of New Castle, Pa., has traded his gray gelding Lunk to J. | A, Behlagal, of Alliance, O., for the | brown gelding Andy 8., 2.51 | —=W. l. Becott’s racing stable will | leave its home at Ene, Pa., about the | 10th or 12th instant, for Cape Charles, Va., under charge of Byron | land. - Frank Sweeting, West Gilead, Detroit, the gray 4-year-old pacer, Sil- | verthread, by Royal Fearnaught, dam by Tom Hunter, for $1500, | chased from the Fleetwood Farm, | list, foaled 1885, { Felicia, by imp. Phaeton, for $1500. George Kinney and Barnes have been permanently retired from the turf, {and will stand for service at Messrs, Billet will be reserved for | Inares, The California *‘crack’’ Beaconsfield | was injured recently while about to be shipped with others from the Bay Dis- trict track. He kicked at a passing cart and cut himself between the heel and fetlock. ~Joseph Cotton, of the new racing firm of Cotton & Emory, has pur- chased of W. B. Todhunter, of San Francisco, the California-bred colt Es- til, a chestnut, foaled 1883, by Nor- private | $3000 —~Colonel BR, G. Stoner will | clean sweep of his trotting stock at | Panis, Ky., next month. The great | Strathmore, Mambrino Russell, dam of | Maud 8., and several other horses of celebrity, and about sixty head all told, | will be sold at auction. Twenty-two of the get of George Wilkes trotted in 2.30 or better in 18585, Jlue Bull had nineteen 2 30 performers on the turf last season, Happy Medium twelve, Almond ten, Dictator eight, | Electioneer, Daniel Lambert and Nut- wood seven each, and Sultan and Swi. gert six each. — William France has shipped Harry Wilkes to New York, i driving him on the road, The horse has re- covered from the pink-eyve, which laid him up last Mr. France will probably start a si breeding farm at Lexington is fall. ek —James F. Powell, of Philadelphia, bought of W, K. Warren, through E. B. Cross, of Evansville, Ind., a black i pacing gelding that has shown private trial in 2.20, He will be handled by E B. Clark, and started at the spring {| meeting in Philadelphia, Merre Lorillard has purchased of ex-Governor Leland Stanford the bay mare Donita, foaled 1879, by Election. eer, dam May Fly, by 8t, Clair. Price private. At San Francisco, Cal., No- vember 24, 1881, against time, to beat the 2-year old record of Fred Crocker | (2,254), she won, being driven to the quarter in 37 seconds, the half in 1.123, and the full mile in 224}. This was certainly a very wonderful performance, and, although Wildflower eclipsed this | by trotting in 2.21, Bonita should be a coming trotter, as she trotted at lex. ington, Ky., October 11, 1883, as a 4- | year-old, and got a record of 2.18%. ~ A writer from Saratoga Springs, Dee. 10th says : 1 paid a visit to Mayor Nolan’s stable a day or two since, and ! had a look at the horses in their winter quarters, Jimmy Lee, the trainer, was on hand, and was evidently proud to exhibit them as they look al present. The entire lot are in splendid winter | shape, and he says he could them better. There are six in number. Bourke Cocliran, Miss Moulsey, Gien- iarm, Wimbledon, Jim Casey, and Swarthmore. The last-named is a chestnut yearly colt by Stampede, out of Blossom by Pat Malloy, and belongs to the Delaware Stable, He is a neat gobd-looking colt, with the exception that he is perhaps a trifle undersized, | but, from his looks and breeding, he | should be heard from when out. The stable quarters are excellent | in appointments, both for the gomfort of the horses and the men employed | there, | years of age. The fall that he was 2 years i old he was not fairly broken ; was not | hitched up to exceed ten times, He was then turned out with the other colts and run all winter, belong put in | the stall nights and stormy days, The next spring he was 3 years old, and { when I took the other horses to the track 1 took Jay-Eye-See up and com- menced to drive him, [1 worked him not to exceed five weeks, and only half miles at speed, and at the end of that time I drove him a half for Mr. Case’s son Jackson, in 1.18§, which we all thought was pretty good for the time that he was worked, and a 3-year-old at that, Mr, Case then ordered him put in the pasture, where he remained un- til fall, I then took him up with the view to get him gentle to drive on the road, as he was very shy and timid at i EB. Lp sf I : f 4 i 5 : race U : 555% 5 FASHION NOTES. ~ Violets are the fashionable flowers { of the winter, --Jaunty black Astrakban are popular this season. ~New muffs are much larger than those used last year, ~Dress bodice are long waisted with high standing cotlars. —Fur trimmed costumes of Jersey cloth are among the jatest importations, - Handsome house dresses are bright { ened by jewelled belts, girdles or clasps, jackets { Tailor-made newmarkets are among the sensible wraps for cold weather, —Pretty chatelaine bags are made of | pearl or tan-colored kid daintily painted. —Heliotrope and violet shades are chosen for dresses for evening wear, and | full-dress occasions, ~Pretty house slippers are of tan- colored, undressed kid, They are bead- | ed with steel or gilt beads, { ~Plush grows in popularity for dress. es, wraps, bounets and hats, and is {| worn by old and young alike. ~A new wool lace, closely imitating i crocheted or knitted material, which { does not ravel when cut, is to be had { by the yard. It may be utilized for | scarfs, shawls or coverings for the head, | ~Gauze or crepe fans, painted with designs of birds, figures or delicate scraps of landscape are considered the latest novelty in fans, Flowers are not considered now ionable as they were, so {asl | + —Plamn stockinette jerseys are made | dressy and chic by arranging a row of tiny buttons upon either side of the | front, these fastening a vest which is narrow at the throat, widens over the chest, and then tapers almost to a point al the lower portion of the jersey, Taste and custom go together when wool dresses are de nigueur for mourning, traveling and utility wear, wool and silk or velvet combinations { for afternoon promenades and uncere- monious calls, and silk and velyet. plush and lace costumes for reception, dinner and evening wear, Ki ~—{zreen i8 the coming col A handscme traveling dress in moss green cashmere, with green velvel collar and cuffs, a velvet front to the jacket, and a toque and moeff of the velvet to match the suit, Green wil | prove an economical fashion WH dress goods, for there is almost always a certain amount of arsenic in the co oring used, which has a way of taki up spots, A ‘green cashme looks as well after three months « rat wearing as the day it is first put on. Of. a5 fv sii . dark T¢ { } -There are some very charming and graceful trimmings out, all kinds of lace, plush, velvet, embroidered gauzes, and muslins—being employed. Wh lace much less former- Beads of wvarious great requisition to edge bands, for they are neck bands chiefly and not frills. Tiny rosary beads are also used; one row or two, as may be, outlines the edges, and meets atl neck broug He: is used than sizes are these iv. pret prety neck the throat in front. Some of the tweed, cheviot, | heavy woolen goods are made exaclly like a jersey, with no linings, the | second waist of silesia being worn sep arately. By this means the cloth bodice is made to fit smoother and more snug. ly. The underwaist worn beneath is | heavily whalebouned down ihe entire | lengih of all the seams, except those ir the back, and this underwaist is alsc made to fit with the closeness of cuirass-bodice. A moderately light but very firm quality of American surah is very often used for this waist instead of a colton himing. A perfect fit is therefore insured. bodices and other newest homespun Uslia a ong comfortable fu: llned cloaks again present themselves as securities against the cold blasts of | winter, Many of these are lined with wink, The outside, where economy is concerned, should be of Sicilienne or | the American Dutchess satin, There is | no economy in the plain black French | silk that in one season assumes the | fatal shiny gloss, It 1s a great mistake for those who practice economy | through necessiety to purchase cheap | garments which are unmistakably | stamped with their price and length of | life no one would like to insure, and re- | ceive the attention accorded to a poor { relation. It is wiser to economize in something else for the one excellent outside wrap with a long lease of life. ~The rules of good taste require a certain method in the choice of cos { tumes for different times and occasions, ~In furs, the | | Thus, a lady of taste will not wear silk | dresses in the morning, nor a heavy | woolen costume for an afternoon re- | ception. Ladies wear in the morning, | when they go out in the street on foot, fand do not intend to pay any visits, { costumes of woolen fabric without any { mixture of silk. #A little later in the | day they put on dresses of woolen fab- | rie, combined with silk or velvet tissues, which are sufhciently elegant for pay- ing visits pot of ceremony. And for ceremonious visits and receptions they | select dresses of plain silk or velvel, combined with brocanded silk and vel vets acocording to the fashion of the day. There are such a number of silk tissues of all styles that great vanely may be achieved even while conforming to the above rules, One of the pretti- est silk materials of this winter season is composed of alternate plush and moire stripes; in some cases the plush stripes are of several colors over monochrome moire, in others they are of one color different from the moire.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers