ffltffl
HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher.
NIL DESPERANDUM.
Two Dollars per Annum.
VOL. XI.
HIDGWAY, ELK COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 21, 1881.
NO. 22.
"Who Shall Sing Freedom's Song"
" Who shall Bing Freedom's Song ?"
Not any man, nor woman fair;
They have been thralls to Pain and Care,
They have been thralls to Wrong.
For song so glad and free
No roice that's learned a note of pain
Cn ever touch the proud, glad strain
Worthy such minstrelsy.
" The birds, swift-winged and free ?"
Ah 1 no. So many captives sigh
In gilded prisons, siug and die
Longing for liberty.
" Let drums and trumpets Bhout."
Alas 1 they have but hireling tones;
For marching hosts or tyrants' thrones
Their noisy notes ring out.
" Who shall sing Freedom's Song ?"
Oh 1 Winds of Heaven, that ceaseless blow;
Oh 1 mighty, unbound Winds I you know
The strain so fresh and strong 1
No one shall silence you;
Not tho bluo blade, nor flood, nor fire
Shall Btay your course; yon cannot tire,
Running tho whole world round.
Oh 1 Winds of Heaven 1 Sing out I
Sing in the boundless forest trees,
Siug in the scented summer breeze,
Among tho wild waves shout 1
Sing on the hills and plain
'ou that have never owned control,
Siug Freedom's Song from Pole to Pole,
Until Earth learn the Btrain.
31. B. Burnet, in the Independent.
UNDER THE MIDNIGHT LAMP.
I am a doctor, a busy professional
man, whose time is money; whenever,
therefore, I can save it, I tlo. Many
ami many a night have I passed iu the
train, counting the hours thus gained
as a miner does his gold. Upon thin
point, unfortunately, my little wife and
I do Dot agree; and it is, I think, the
only point upon which we do not.
Eight hours in a comfortless railway
compartment, rolled up in your plaid
like a snake in its blanket, instead of
in your comfortable sheets, stretched
over a comfortable spring niattress no,
she cannot be made to see the propriety
of the exchange, nor will she believe
that I sleep quite as well, if not dis
turbed, in the plaid as in the sheets.
Th train was just oil' as I sprang in,
and the shock of the start landed me in
my seut Being of a slow, placid nature,
I was in no hurry to recover from the
fell of k ; and wo were fairly off, speeding
away as only an English express can
speed, bwf'i'e I looked round. I had
not the c.i '-inge to niystlf, as I had at
iir-t supposed ; a lady occupied the
further nil; nnd nt the first glance,
spite ( tie dim li(J lit and the fact oi
her veil beingdown, 1 raw that her eyes,
unnaturally lovpp 'iii1 intense in theii
ex pre" si (in, were fixed upon me. I al
all timed pvi fi r a carnage to myself,
and if a companion I must have, let it
be a gentleman, not a lady ; but there
was nn help for it ; the lady was there,
and moreover, she was looking nt me.
" So (she may," I said to myself ; " that
shall not prevent my making myself as
comfortable as circumstances will al
low." Slowly and deliberately, there
fore, T removed my hat, substituting for
it a clotli cap, which I drew well down
over my ears ; then I folded my arms
and composed myself to sletp. But in
vain ; the eyes of my fellow-passenger
haunted me ; 1 saw them as distinctly
as if my own were open. Was she
watching mo still? Involuntarily 1
locked tip and round, and my look n et
hers, full, burning, intense, with far
more meaning in it than I could at all
fathom. It was getting decidedly un
pleasant, and I was growing decidedly
uncomfortable ; try as I might I could
not keep my eyes closed ; hers were on
me and meet t hem I mubt.
Iu her at' id ado too, as well as in her
look, there was something strange and
mysterious. Huddled up in the corner,
she seemed to be hohling something
close pressed to her beneath the long
loose mourniiig cape, bending low over
it in n crouching posture. Unco or
twice, h.er eyes etill lixed upon mine, I
saw her shiver ; but for that slight con
vulsive movement, she sat perfectly still
and motionless.
Was she cold? I offered her my
plaid, glad of an opportunity to break
the ominous silence. If she would but
speak, make some commonplace remark,
the spell might be broken.
"I am not cold."
A commonplace remark enough ; but
the spell was broken. The mystery
that lay in her eyes lay also in her
voice.
hat should I try next? I looked at
my watch 11:30 ; our train speeded on
at a furious rate, no chance of a stoppage
for some time to come, and the full,
wide-open gaze of my motionless com
panion not for oi:e moment removed
IVoin my face. It was unpleasant,
certainly. If I changed my position,
face the window instead of her, she must
remove her eyes from my face at last.
But there was a sort of fascination about
her and her look which I preferred
meeting to shirking, knowing that it
was on me all the time.
There was nothing for it, then, but to
give up all hope of sleep, and make the
best of my position and companion,
whom I now observed more closely.
That fihe was a lady there could be but
lit' le doubt ; there was that in her dress
and appearance that was unmistakable.
That she was pretty there could be
little doubt either; those great dark,
intensely dark, eyes, the thick coila of
warm, burnished hair, the small, pale
features, seen dimly beneath the veil 1
yes, she was young, pretty, a lady, and
in trouble. So far I got and no farther.
EUw came she to be traveling alone at
that time of night and with that look on
her face ? What could it be that she was
holding pressed so closely to her and
yet so carefully kept out of sight?
From the size and uncertain outline I
. could have guessed it to be a child ; but,
then, there was not the faintest motion,
nor could she have held a sleeping
infant even long in that position
think that something of curiosity must
been betrayed in my look, for her own
darkened and deepened into a perfect
agony of doubt and fear.
Ashamed, I withdrew my gaze at
once, and drawing out my note-book,
was about to make a memorandum, when,
with a sudden forward movement, she
fell at my feet, arresting my hand by
tho agonized grasp of her own, its
burning contact sending through rco a
painful thrill.
"Don't betray met Don't give me
up to him ! Oh, don't 1 I am bo
frightened I"
It was but a whisper, breathed out
rather than spoken, yet it shuddered
through me like a cry.
" I cannot always hide it I I cannot
always bear it about with me; it breaks
my heai t, and I am so tired."
And letting the hand which still held,
pressed closely to her, the mysterious
burden that had so raised my curiosity,
drop heavily to her side, theie lay at
her feet and mine a little dead baby, a
tiny creature evidently not many weeks
old.
Then the woman threw up her veil,
and, withdrawing her eyes for the first
time from mine, clasped her hands be
fore her, hei figure thrown slightly
back, and looked down upon it. A
pretty picture the poor young mother,
with her pale child's face and deep
mourning dress; the wee baby, gleam
ing fo vihite in its death and baby-robo
against the heavy crape skirt on which
it lay, a pretty picture certainly for a
railway carnage, ana lighted by its aim
midnight lamp.
" Dead I" was my involuntary excla
mation.
She stretched her clasped hands down
toward it with a despairing gesture,
speaking with low, wild, rapid utter
ance. " It was not his look that killed it,
but my love. He hated it my baby,
my first-born; lor ail tne love i gave
him, he hated it; and that his look
might not kill it, I held it in my arms,
so close, so close, till it was dead. Oh,
my baby, n-y baby."
The outstretched hands had reached
it now. and raised it from the floor to
the seat, folding it around until the in
closing arms and tho down-bent face
hid it once more out of sight.
Was ever luckless passenger more
awkwardly placed? the dead child ; the
prostrate woman; the scene, a public
railway carriage; the hour, midnight.
( am c'f a blunt nature. Mrs. Merton
often wolds me for my bluut, straight
forward speeches ; but then she has
such a pretty way of beating about the
liush, which it would be as absurd for
me to imitate as it was for the ass to
mimic tho tricks of his master's lap-dog.
I must go straight to the point as soon
as ever I see it. I did so now.
" How come you to be traveling alone,
and with a dead child? Are you going
home?"
The question seemed to rouse her
once more to a perfect frenzy of fear.
She turned to me as before, clinging to
my hand with small hot fingers, and
the old heartbroken cry:
"Don't betray me, don't give mo up
fo him ! His look would have killed
my baby ; it would kill me if I had to
meet it. She is safe, for I killed her,
and she is dead ; and he hates me and I
have no home no home 1"
I was in a perfect maze of doubt.
Could tho pretty soft young creature at
my feet be indeed a murderess? and
could it be her husband of whom she
seemed in such abject terror? My blood
boiled; I felt ready to defend her
against a dozen husbands. But how?
It was midnight, now ; we could not
be far from Londi n ; the guard might
be popping lr's head in at any moment.
I jumped to a sudden conclusion.
" Were you going to any friend in
London ?"
" I know nobody in London."
" The poor little thing is either mad
or her husband is a brute," was the
mental exclamation.
"Then you must come home with me
to my wife; she will see after you."
An upward glance of wild, agonized
supplication:
She won't betray me, or take baby
from me?" And once more the wee
dead thing was lifted up into the arms
that seemed almost too frail to hold it,
and hidden away beneath the long
mourning cape.
I took her home. Mary received her
with a look of amazement that made
me smile, but that found no expression
in words. Whoi , taking her aside, I
told her all I knew, she wrung her
hands in sheer sympathizing pity.
" Murdered her own baby her first
born ! Oh, how sad, how dreadful I"
And involuntarily she glanced toward
the door that hid from us our own lit
tle ones, safely cradled and asleep.
Then she went back to our strange
guest, who sat huddled up in my own
big easy-chair, the dead baby s'.ill at her
bosom.
" I must get her to bed," t aid Mary,
with a auick, determined nod; and she
really did contrive to do so by soft, ten-
- . i t i
der, coomg woras, auu soieinu nssur-
ances of sateiy ior nerseu ana uaoy,
whom she kissed and cried over, and
considered aa she might some living
object of solicitude, much to the little
mother's coruforti
" And vou won t betray me; and he
won't come and take her from me, or
hurt us with his angry look ? Oh, dear,
how nice it is to lie down I 1 am so
tired, and baby is so cold; but I think
I can sleep now a little aLd forget.
She was half asleep already; the heavy
lids had drooped together, the small,
pale face had drooped downward upon
the little downy head that 1 iy against
her bosom.
" Her husband must be sent for," I
said, resolutely, when we found our
selves once more alone; and I glanced
at an envelope I had taken from the
stranger's pocket:
"Mrs. Tkemayne, Grantle Lodge,
Grantley. '
Mary stared at me aghast.
Her husband, who hates her, and
would have killed her baby 1 Oh, John,
you would not be so cruel I She seems
so frightened of him, poor thiug ! You
may be sure he is some horrid, wicked
tyrant. And if she really killed her
baby oh, dear, how sad it ia. What
ever will become of her I"
But, my dear, if she has a husband
or friends, we must restore her to them.
Yin 1 - a. I.'l.l. tln B Jl .3 I
' It's very strange, very, and sad; but the
mvstery must be cleared and the baby
buried.
Mary still pronounced me cruel and
unfeeling beyond anything sho could
have conceived.
" Of conrne her husband is a mud
man who will murder her as soon as he
gets her into his hands. You know,
John, that husbands are always murder
ing their wives."
"Middle-aged wives, dear, or elderly,
whose lives are heavily insured. I shall
telegraph at once."
"Then her death will be at your door,
sir mind that 1" And too indignant to
waste upon me more words, away went
Mary to ti-ko a last peep at our own
sleeping babes, at the dead baby about
which there was so much mystery and
the poor young mother whom she had
doomed to a violent death.
She was still bending over her, and
had called me up to the bedside to no
tice the extraordinary length of the
lashes and the beauty of the face in re
pose, when we were startled by a knock
at the front door.
" It's the husband, I know it is. Oh,
John, don't betray her, don't five her
up; you wouldn't be so cruel."
" Nonsense, child; watch by her till
I return. If she awakes say nothing
about"
" Her husband. As if I should."
Our household having long since re
tired, long, indeed, before my return, I
myself opened the door.
The street lamp lighted dimly two
figures; one tall, stout and muffled.
" Mr. Merton V"
I answered in the affirmative.
" You have kindly given shelter to a
lady?"
"Just so."
The speaker nodded to his companion,
who touched his hat and vanished.
The other stranger had now entered
the hall, and grasped my hand.
" Mr. Tremayne?" I asked.hesitatingly,
" Captain Tremayne. How is she ? "
"Asleep, under my wife's care ; sleep
ing as peacefully as a child."
"Thank God! So young at such
an hour in such a state "
I saw a long shudder run through the
tall, powerful frame.
And the child V ho added, after a
pause, m a norror-stneuen wnisper.
She had it with her?"
I hardly knew what to answer ; but he
had thrown off his heavy ulster and
traveling cap, and now stood before
me, as handsome, as pleasant and uonest
lookinar a young fellow as I ever saw,
and my heart warmed to him. He was
no assassin, or ruffian, or cowardly
bully, whatever Mary might say. The
hadow ot a great horror, that lay m the
blue, mellow eyes, had been laid there
by terror, not crime.
"The child is dead," I said, softly.
"It died two weeks ago, died sud
denly in convulsions in her arms, and
the shock turned her brain. She was
doing so well, poor little thing ; but
afterward she crew delirious, and in
her ravings she accused herself and me.
I could do nothing ; she would not have
mn near her, but beat me off with her
hands, as if she could not bear the sight
of me. And I was so fond of her and
she of mo 1 " Here the man broke down.
He walked to the window, then turned
and asked, abruptly : "May I go to her?"
I thought of Mary and hesitated.
"She is sleeping so peacefully just
now ; and if she awoko suddenly and
saw you "
" She shall not see me," he broke in,
eagerly. " I will be so quiet ; but I
must see her. I nursed her through a
long illm ss a year asro, and she would
have no one near her but me; and now "
Under the heavy militaiy mustaebo I
saw his lip quiver ; he paused, then
added : " I must go to her !" not in
command, but in yearning appeal, both
iu voice and eyes.
"Will vou wait here a minuto? I
will see whether she still sleeps."
She still slept, the heavy peaceful
sleep of a tired child, Mary keeping a
stern watch and guard over Tier. I
beckoned her out of the room.
" Well !" with fretful impatient eager
ness. " You have seen him ? WThat is
he like? Is he horrid?"
"Judge for yourself; he is in the
dining-room. He says he must see her
he must come m.
"That -he shan't, the cruel wretch
or it will be over my prostrate body 1"
tragically.
" Well, go and tell him so."
" I will I" And away, nothing daunt.
ed, went Mary. I smiled. She will no
more resist the pleading of those hand
some blue eyes than did her husband.
He will win her over with a look." I
was right ; she soon returned, and not
alone.
"He will be very quiet, and she need
not see him. I thought it would be
better "all this apologetically.
He crossed the room as noiselessly as
a woman, stooped over the bed in
silence, then sat down beside it. Mary
shaded the lamp so that the room was
iu twilight, and so we all three sat
down to wait.
For more than an hour we waited,
then Mary stole out. Captain Tremayne
looked up as the door opened and
closed ; then, with a quick sigh, laid
the brown curly head down upon the
pillow as close as possible to that of
the poor young wife without touching
it, and his hand moved up toward hers,
where it lay on the coverlet, but with
out touching that either, for fear of
waking or disturbing her.
It was not until the first gray streaks
of davlightwere struggling in through
the window beside which I eat, and
there was a slight stir ; she was awaking
at last.
"Hugh!" she breathed dreamily at
first, then urgently "Hugh 1"
"Yes. dear."
She turned her iace toward his where
it lay beside her. She was only partially
awake as yet, her eyes were still closed;
but the hand on the coverlet crept up
softly toward him, fluttered over his
face, rested one moment carelessly ou
the brown curls, then, with a long, con
tented sigh, her arm stole round his
neck.
"Husband, kiss me !"
"His presence has saved her," was
my mental comment ; "there is nothing
now to fear ;" and, unnoticed, I left the
room.
Chilled and cramped with the long
sitting after the night's journey, I was
not sorry to find the sitting-room bright
with lamp and firelight, the kettle sing
ing on tho hob, breakfast as comfortably
laid out for two as :f the hour had been
0 instead of 6, and Mrs. Merton as
neat and fresh and trim as if that mid
night tragedy had been all a dream. Let
cavilists sneer as they may, there is
nothing for a man like a wife, if she be
a good one. I myself may have had
my doubts on the subject wives are but
women after all, and must therefore 'ie
trying at time, even the best of them.
But I certainly had no doubts what
ever as I stretched out my feet to the
blaze, and resigned myself cheerfully to
being petted and waited on.
Well? questioned flirs.JVlerton.when
my creature comforts had all b en at
tended to, and not before. I told her
how matters stood; she was delighted.
" And so they are fond of each other,
after all? rnd his being unkind to her
and her poor little baby was only a de
lusion. How dreadful ! Low delight
ful, I mean I Poor fellow I so young
and handsome and nice 1 I felt so sorry
for him."
" He must have traveled down in the
same train as she did."
" Oh, ho; he told me all about it. He
had been summoned up to town on busi
ness, and left home yesterday morning.
In the evening the nurse left her, as she
imagined, asleep, to fetch something
from the kitchen.
"Have a gossip there, you mean."
"John, solemnly, you don't like
nurses; you know you don't."
"My dear, I am a married man, and,
moreover, an M. D. A well-balanced
mind must hate somebody or some class
of bodies, and, as a rule, medical men
hate nurses."
" Nonsense, John ! Well, Mrs. Tre
mayne got away from the nurse, went
downstairs, and being traced to the
station, where she had taken a ticket to
London, Captain Tremayne was tele
graphed to, and was stopped as he got
into the tram on his way home. Home
one must have seen you leave the
station."
" As be came to look for her here
somebody must have brought him; two
came to the door."
" It will be all right now that he has
found her and is fond of her; she will
get quite well, and he will only have to
comfort her lor the loss of her poor lit-
tlo babv."
I wipe my pen, blot the MS3. and
lise. My story is done, and as it is the
first it will probably be tho last of
which I shall bo .guilty.
Mrs. Merton looks up from the glove
she is mending. " i'he story done!
Why, all you have written is only the
beginning of the end. You could not
surely have the heart to break off in
that unsatisfactory manner. Not a word
about Captain Tremayne's gratitude, or
the hamper they sent us at Christmas,
or the birth of their little son last year,
and the pretty way in which she coaxed
you to be godfather, though her uncle,
tho duke, was only waiting to be asked;
or how she insisted upon our bringing
baby and Johnny and Freddy, and how
baby-"
But I S' ized my hat and gloves. Mary
is, as I have said, the best of wives, if
just a little trying at times, and her
baby the most wonderful of all created
babies but I have an appointment at
twelve ! Tindey's Jlwgmuie.
How to Fish.
"What's the matter with my stick ?
Let go, vou nasty thing ! Here's another
one! Quick!"
"Pull him in, can't ye? You've got
a bite. Haul up!" cried Mr. Spoopen
dyke, trying to untangle himself Iroin
his lino and help his wife. "Lift him
out of the water ! "
" He won't let me," squeaked Mrs.
Spoopendvke, bidding both arms out at
full length. " Take him off! Scat!
Go 'way, you monster ! "
"Lift your pole straight up in the
air I " shouted Mr. Spoopendyke. "Hoist
the dod gased thing right up ! "
Mrs. Spoopendyke exerted herself and
disclosed an eel, dangling.
" It's a rattlesnake I " she yelled.
"Don't go near him ! Fire ! fire ! mur
der ! police ! police-e-e ! "
" Hold your yawp, will ye ?' bawled
Mr. Spoopendyke. " Get him over the
dock so I can catch him! What yer
holding him out there for ! Waiting for
him to dry ? Stick , that pole straight
up in the air, I tell ye !
Mrs. Spookendyke threw the pole
over htr shoulder and flopped the ee
into Mi". Spoopendyko's countenance.
"Dod gast the measely eel!" he
howled, as ho spit it out. " Stop wav
ing that slam basted lightning rod like
a flag, will ye? Hold it still, I say?
Think you re a tree t
"Don't touch hint! inrowmm over
board ! He'll sting you to death!" gur
gled Mrs. Spoopendyke, and, forgetting
that the pole still exercised an influence
over the eel, she gave u a jerk ana it
slipped through Mr. Spoopendyko's fin
gers. That gentleman made a spring
lor it. and swashed into the water.
Heu! blab! baa I wagglo, iau, hie,
ga, gaggle!" sputtered Mr. Spoopendyke,
as some lightermen fished him out.
" Did you catch coia, dear " inquired
Mrs. Spoopendyke, with solicitude, as
they made their way home.
" If I did I landed it," growled Mr.
Spoopendyke, blowing'mud like the ex
haust of a tug.
" Anyway, I caught an eel, didn't I ?"
asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, carrying out
the woman's idea of comforting a man
with the only thing he don't want to
hear about.
" Oh 1 you caught it I" ripped Mr.
Spoopendyke. " You're a fish woman,
you are. All you want now is glass
sides and some bubbles running through
vou to be an aquarium I Another time
we both go fishing you stay home ! You
hear?"
And with this novel mathematical
suggestion Mr. Spoopendyke hunted
himcelf to bis domicile and took a
sweat. Brooklyn hagle. ,
If the English language was divided
into 100 parts sixty would be Saxon,
thirty would be Latin (including, of
course, the Latin that has come to us
through the French), and live parts
would be Greek.
FOlt THE LADIES.
Halr-Dreastne.
Both low and high coiffures are worn,
with a preference for the former, but
the style depends entirely on the wearer.
With long faces tne nair is aressea
low behind and very broadly, reaching
from ear to ear, so that it may be seen
from the front. With a broad face and
short neck, and also for a very short
person, the hair is drawn to the top or
crown of the head, and massed there.
The stylish low coiffure is made of two
small switches twisted together in a sort
of coil, having a narrow curve at the
top, and being broad below, with a
curve reaching close behind each ear ;
this gives the effect of many small soft
puffs,and is completed by placing a short,
very thick curl on each side quite nearthe
ear. This is meant for full dress, and
looks well with the front hair arranged
iu the fluffy English way that is again
in fashion ; instead of ringR or curls or
waves, the short hair above the forehead
is picked apart, and almost each sepa
rate hair allowed to stand outward, and
this fluffiness is confined, though not
flattened, by an invisible net. ihe
newest false fronts provided to save a
lady's own hair are now prepared in
this fluffy style, with some long hair at
tached to pass over the back of the
head into the back hair in the most nat
ural way. Ladies who have a good suit
of hair, and do not use switches, tie
their back hair about the middle of the
back of the head, and make a figure
8 toward each ear. lor morning
and plain occasions the hair in twisted
into a very flat coil close against the
head, and this is placed very low; or
else the plait of three tresses is passed
back and forth between the ears quite
down on the nape of the neck, and the
front hair is simply waved in loose, nat.
ural-looking waves. The water waves
close to the face are abandoned, and
ladies who want to wear the hoir parted
in the middle put it up on pins at night
to make loose waves If perspiration
takes out these waves they provide two
or three little pieces of natural curly
hair ma'ie up on foundation, and thrust
these under their own front hair on the
forehead; the wearer's own hair may
come out of crimps by moisture, but the
additional locks will not, if made of
hair that waves naturally. For high
coiffures two soft, loose-looking coils
aro twisted across the top of the head,
and the front hair is arranged in the
fluffy way already described. This
tlufliness does not suit all faces, and is
apt to suggest at once Du Manner s
caricatures of .English ccsthetes ; and
many ladies retain the becoming Mon
tague curves and waved bangs, although
the most fashionable hair-dressers say
there shall be no rings, no curls, no
locks upon the forehead. The elaborate
coiffures reported from Paris are not
yet adopted here, and the most fashion
able women wear the simplest styles,
appearing at ceremonious entertain
ments with merely a small low coil and
fluffy front hair, with tho sole ornament
a low comb that, has a riviere of dia
monds for its heading. Ladies who
have lost their front hair conceal bald
ness by one of the excellent front pieces
that are now made on self-adjustable
foundations, held in place by a spring,
that can bo put on without hairpins,
and art! easily kept in place; these
are made up with hair that waves
naturally, some of which falls for
ward from a cross artiiifj, nnd
the remainder goes back on tho head.
Those who have so little back hair that,
they cannot wear a switch, or are not
successful in arranging the hair stylish,
buy the self-adiustablo chignon, formed
of curls or braids, and also held in place
by a spring, or else the multitorm,
which serves for both front or back hair,
and may bo arranged in tho simplest or
most elaborate manner, and which is
very light, weighing only three ounces,
Ladies with gray hair wear loose waves
in front, with twisted coils or low braids
behind, or else they retain the Pompa
dour roll so becoming above a low, broad,
Greek forehead. All dyes are happily
out of use for old and young alike, and
though young people have a preierence
for tawny and reddish gold hair, the
still better fashion for being natural pre.
vails in hair as in many other things,
Bangs for children s hair are not now cut
from ear to ear. as they have been, but are
merely acrosB the forehead, and any side
bangs not yet grown out are brushed
up, and put in with the back hair, which
is combed straight back, and tied by
ribbon that passes around tho head
Tying the hair in a bunch behind or on
top of the head has been abandoned, as
it makes bald spots back of the ears or
on top of the head. It is then allowed
to hang, flowing straight without
crimps If it is inclined to curl, it is
put in about five loose soft curls that
hang behind.
i;urther hints about hair. Hair
wears lighter, and is changed by per
spiration; hence, in selecting false hair,
it should be dark enough to begin witn
The hair on the temples and forehead is
liuhter than that further back, and
to be well-matched requireslighter addi
tional hair than that chosen for a switch
Brushing U the best stimulant for the
hair and. should be done twice a day
fifty strokes in the morning, and again
in the evening, passing the hand over
the hair occasionally between strokes,
commended by ladies wuo have re.
tained handsome hair bayond middle
age. The ends of the hair should be
clipped once a month to keep it thic
and even. To do this thoroughly, the
hair should be taken up in tresses, and
a comb drawn through each tress, bo-
ginning at the roots, and doubling the
hair around the comb, 60 that in passing
the short ends wnl be seen, and can bo
clipped. To prevent the hair falling
out after an illness, six inches should
be cut off, and after this for three
or four months half an inch should
be cut off each month. The cheap hair
of which bo much is sold is usually un
wholesome stuff ; it is not always real
hair, and if genuine, is not taken from
the heads of living persons ; finally, it
does not prove to be cheap, for it is un
clean, easily mats and snarls, and is ho
brittle that it does not wear well, or elso
so stiff that it is unwieldy; hence it is
not cheap at any price. To test the
quality of the hair, rub the ends of the
switch between the fingers, and if good
it will fall away out of the hand en
tirely ; but if of inferior quality, it will
snarl and mat together. A microscope
may also be used to show if the ends ot
the hair are turned the wroug way.
Dazar. Fashion's Fanelri.
Bustles increases in sine.
Overdresses are shirred from belt to
knee.
The pointed shoe is again returniug
to favor.
Small Roman pearls are braided iu the
hair with fine effect.
Children's dresses are again ct with
low necks and short sleeves.
Dresses of tinted mull, over princesse
Blips of pale pink, light bluo, or cream
white batiste are stylish and becoming,
Jersey bodices of ciel blue, rose color
or mauve-tinted silk Btockmgs are worn
with white surah skirts trimmed with
tinted Spanish lace, corresponding with
the color of the Jersey.
The small, old-fashioned shawls of
white china crape embroidered with
heavy silk floss in each corner, and
edged with white nettnd silk fringe,
are again in vogue.
Evening dresses for young ladies are
cf India muslin or gauze, elaborately
trimmed with lace, and garnished with
loops and knots of ribbon or clusters of
charminr f owers.
A charming little baby frock is made
of pale biue surah, low-necked nnd
trimmed with a shirred plastron edged
with Valenciennes lace, which is set up
the entire front of the dress. A broad
sash edged on the ends with lace is car
ried around the waist and knotted
loosely at one side.
Ombre weddings aie actually in
order; that is, the bride wears, oi
course, the whitest of roses; and thon,
out of six bridemaids, the smallest or
the youngest wears pale pink rosebuds,
and the tallest or the eldest wears the
deepest crimson roses, while the four
intermediates shade upward. This
novel effect is repeated in flowers of
other color and form.
('are of the Ear.
People who are inclined to deafness
should livo apart from the loud noises
railroads, factories, iron mills, etc.
Ihey should avoid with great care ex
posure to cold and damp, and especially
should not wear thin shoes in walking
on damp ground or saturated brick
pavements. Children ought never to
bo struck on the ear with the palm of
tho baud, even in sport ; sudden deaf
ness results sometimes from boxing the
ars, as well as the rupture of the tym
panum. uiten the sudden iar or shock
with the concussion oi air on the ear
drives in the stupes or inner bone, des
troying its function and diminishing
the sensibility of the nerves. A snow-
all thrown with force on the ear, or an
aeeidential blow with a ball or bat, may
easily cause deafness. As a cold in
creases deafness, it should be avoided if
possible. Delicate persons should avoid
h'dughts on the eai'3, sitting in wet
clothes, sudden changes from tho
heated atmosphere of crowded rooms to
cold winds, and other similar exposures.
Tobacco smoke is injurious to sensitive
icrves and sometimes induces a peculiar
diseased condition of the eustachian
tube. Smoking in the open air should
e especially avoided by persons whose
leaving is impaired, as it injuries the
throat, and the opening between the
throat and ear. No instruments
should be introduced into the ear, as
the delicate lining membrane is apt to
become irritated.
Is Horscshot iug Useless 1
A recent issue of Frmer's Magatlnt
contains an article by Sir ueorgo v..
Cox, in which he estimates that the
English custom of horseshoeing costs
the nation annually as much as $15,000,
000, which might be saved if the horses
were allowed to go unshod. He quotes
authorities from Xenophon,who niarche
his horses unshod from Cunaxa over the
Armenia Highlands to the walls of
Ticbizond, down to the "freelanciers"
of the present day, and contends that it
is safer, cheaper and better to let the
horses go unshod over the hardest roads,
and especially in the slippery streets in
London, lie estimates that over twelve
million dollars would be saved in the
farriers' bills alone ; and he calculates
further that tho working life of a horse
would be trebled by the change, so that
a horse whio'a is now worn out at twelve
years would live to twenty-six. The
figures seem somewhat startling and
have hardly been sufficiently proved to
be trustworthy. Meanwhile, it is said
that a medical man in Waterbury, Conn
has not put shoes on his horses for two
years, driving them winter, summer,
I-;;: iug and autumn with bare feet with
out any trouble. The doctor's theory
is that nature has provided for the
horse ; that a horse can travel over all
kinds of roads ; that the hoof will be
moist, and that tho frog coming to the
ground keeps the hoof properly spread
and free from founder and other dis.
eases.
To rrevent Diphtheria.
To prevent diphtheria and finally ex
terminate it, every man, womau and
child throughout our land and the
world should be brought to obey the
laws of life aud health. Parents should
regularly feed, properly clothe and duly
restrain all children, Deiore they come
to the years of understanding and ac
countability. This alone would do
much. A late prominent physician of
Paris estimated that three thousand
children had died in that city, during
tho thirty years of his practice there,
from short sleeves, short pants, and
other kindred imprudence in tho dress
ing of children. And I am really con
vinced that as large a portion is sacri
ficed, in towns at least, in this country,
from the same cause all for a wicked
fashion. Arid from careful observation.
in this country and abroad, I urn confi
dent that at least as many more are
carried off by improper food and uregu
larity in taking it, togethefwith poison
ous candies, and other unwholesome
and indigestible trash, that no child or
other person should eat. Dr. FAucin
It. Maxson, in the Sanitarian,
HOAT TO LIVE IN SUMMER.
PomeMndlrious Advire from nn Amliorltr
It is ns yet a point of dispute whether
cotton ftuffs are tho best wear, many
approving of light woolens. For women,
nothing is sweeter in summer iuu
linen dress ; it is a pity we do not pat
ronize linens more for adults ; for
children, cottons ; for workingmen,
worsteds. The heavy suits oi men aro
weighing them down in summer, and
clothes of serge are far preferable to
those of thick woolen cloth. Very thin
silk is a cool wear. The heavily laden
skirts of women impede the free action
of movement much, and should bo sim
plified as much as possible for summer.
So also the headgear.
Infants, if at all delicate, should not
be allowed to go with bare feet ; it often
produces diarrhea, and they snouu
always wear a flannel band round the
stomach. Another important maiier n
the changing of night and day linen
among the poorer classes. It is toinble
to think that a workingmau snouia ne
down iu the shirt in which he has per
spired all day at his hot work. Let men
accustom Ihemselves to good washes
every evening before they sit down to
their meals, and to changes at nignt,
that they may take np a dry shirt whou
going to' their hard day's work.
Frequent changes of linen is abso
lutely necessary anyhow, a night and
day change. This change alone would
help to stay mortality among children,
if accompanied with other healthy
measures, such as sponging tho body
with a lutlo salt and water. V. here
tenements aro very close wet sheets
placed against walls will !.d to revivify
the air aud absorb bn l vapor in rooms.
All children's hair should be cut short;
boys' hair may bo cropped, and girls'
hair so arranged by nets or plaits that
air passes freely round the neck.
Light head coverings are essential in
summer, lor the head must be kept
cool. The most serviceable dress is
that which allows air to pass freely
around your limbs and stops neither the
evaporation of the body nor the circula
tion of the relreshmg atmosphere. In
summer you must breathe freely and
lightly; vou cannot do so with your
stomach full of undigested food, your
blood full of overheated alcohol, yonr
lungs full of vitiated air, your smell
disgusted with niiiiseous scents, your
system unablo to carry out the natural
process of digestion. All the sanitary
arrangements in tho world will do no
good if wo eat aud drink in such a
fashion that we are constantly putting
on fuel where it is not needed, and stuff
ing up our bodily draught, as we would
that of a heating appliance. Our ig
norance and our bad hnbits spoil the
summer, that delightful season of the
year nothing else.
Activity, rest and recreation aro
weighty matters in influencing our
health in summer. We are not so well
inclined for activity, and yet nothing
will so much assist us as a healthy em
ployment of our energies, without over
exertion. Pity those who must exert
themselves to the utmost in this horrid
weather, and feel gratified if you need
only moderately use your strength.
Activity keeps the system going, the
blood in healthy circulation, the digest
ive process fiee from costiveness, the
skin open for evaporation, and prevents
all clogging of the machine. If not
forced to work in some way or other
be active anyhow; occupy your mind
and exercise your limbs. Siagnation
will bring about lethargy nnd allow the
atmosphere a greater influence upon
you.
On tho other hand, lull rest is as
necessary. Iho exhausted irame wants
more recuperation, the brain less strain,
tho system more centlo treatment.
Things look often darker in hot
weather; heat weighs upon the upper
portion of the head, communicuting it
self to the perceptive powers, and in
fluences tho senses. e see pictures
before us, and fancy wo have not the
power to combat difficulties. It is said
that more suicides aro committed in
hot than cold weather. A healthy
sleep in this hot season is worth a
great deal to us; try to court it, and
never play with your life and health by
willfully neglecting it.
And what shall we say of that precious,
and, as yet, so little understood phase
of life, our recreation? If thero is one
thing mere than another to be encou
raged in summer, it is reasonable recre
ation ; that exercise between body and
mind which brings about harmony
between both ; that periodical abstain
ing from incessant labor which renders
us fresher for it ; that intercourse with
beautiful Mother Earth which leads us
to value natural aspirations.
Never pass a day in summsr without
some calm half -hour for quiet and enjoy
ment ; life has only so many years, and
during their space we should live, not
vegetate. Tho time will come when
sanitary measures and means for enjoy
ing a higher phase of life will be thought
of more than laying up things that rust.
Wo cannot here enter upon the mean
ing of recreation in a wider sense ; but
it is not recreation to rush out of town
aud stop at some place to drink beer
and smoke all the time ; it is not recre
ation to push on in crowds for excite-
meut out of doors ; it is net recreation
to overheat yourself ami feel more
fatigued the day after than the day
belore. For recreation you want leisure,
moderate movement, happy thoughts,
kindly corapany, some pleasant talk,
cheerful music, refreshing food and
drink, and, above al), a thankful heart
that you are able to enjoy these ; then
no one could say that such recreution
would be against the highest religious
rules of living. Food, drink, dwelling,
clothing, activity, rest and recreation,
all are modified by the social circum
stances under which wo are living
Food and Health.
M. J. B. Humbrv of New nope, Va.,
a graduate of the Staunton institute for
the blind, was born blind, but has been
given sight by a successful operation
performed by a Uaiuinore surgeon, i ne
Baltimore Gazette says he can now read
small type by sight, while formerly he
eould read only by passing his fingers
over raised letters. His delight upon
seeing his aged mother for the tirtt
time was naturally very great.