She forest gtjmMtam. 18 rUBLlAIIED EVERY WEDNESDAY, BY W K. DIJNX. office iir robinsoh & bonner's buildiko ELM STREET, TIONESTA, PA. TERMS, $2.00 A YEAR. No Subscriptions received for a shorter period than tliroo months. Oorrcspondonen solleltod from nil parts or the country. No notice will bo taken of anonymous communications. Rates of AdrcrU. On Square (1 Inch,) ono Insertion - t One Square . " ono month - .'! OneHquare " three months - 6 (m OneHquare " ono year - - JO 00 Two Squares, one year - 15 Co Quarter Col. 30 00 Half " ..- 50 00 tea IPnll One - 100 00 Txgal notices at established rates. . Marriage and death notices, gratis. All bills for yearly advertisements pol. lected quarterly. Tfmporary advertise- ments must be paid for in advance. Job work, Cash on Delivery. VOL. XI. NO. 20. TIONESTA, PA., AUGUST 7, 1878. $2 PER ANNUM. 0V A Year Ago. We trod the clover-blossoms under foot Deneith the hawthorn's scented summer snow We bre&thod the spicy air of balmy June A year ago. We stood, band-clasped, beneath the orchid boughs, While twilight silvered the soft, whisp'rlng wave; We watched the falling stars of summer nighU A year ago. We saw the winter sunrise flush the skies And brighten all the oryntal fairy-land; We saw the crimson sunset stain the snow A yearjgo. We saw the stars in winter splendor burn, While a pale crescent trembled in the west; And all the northrn heavens were shot with Are A year ago. I walk tbo sodden autumn ways alone, While yollowing leaves fall sadly. Are they those Which robed with rose and gold the waving woods A year ago? I stand alone beneath the leaden skies, Beside the sullen waves. Did their blue depths And shining ripplos give back mirth for mirth A year ago ? Is Nature ohanged? or is the ohange in me ? Or is all change summed in that word "alone 7" Or that dead past whose requiem is the moan, A year ago? A ear sgo we faoed the coming years Togethor hoping loving. I remain, Remembering love tint ended, hope that died, Aytarago? Appkton'i Journal. MY MISS LAURA. When twelve years old my mother's death made me hu orphan, poor and frieudloBJ. Miss Lanra De Neale found me one day, crying bitterly, took oom- EtasioQ on ine aud brought me to her )me. Mist Laura's mother was an in valid and the care of the honse devolved u xm Miss Knox, the housekeeper. I had been there a year when the Rev. Mr. Walderon, th rector of St Paul' became a frequent visitor, and at last Miss Laura's accepted lover. lie wac not handsome, but yet a man of splendid p-esenoe; and, because of his love for my mistress, and for his commanding fl ure and noble benring, I came to look up to hiui with reverence, almost with worship. Four years slipped by. One day Mis Knox told me that Miss Laura's cousin, Pailip Lansing, had returned from 'road. Hho also informed me that ht and Miss Laura had once been lovers; that he wanted her to run xff, but sh refused. He was heir to millions and bound body and soul to his anole Miss Laura was too poor to please tin old mau, and having a spirit of .her own she refused to marry the nephew. Tue weeks passed on. I began to no tioe a change in Miss Lauri. She hud not been wont to sit brooding over her thoughts, but she did now. I noticed that her cousin often called in the early morning, and that she spent much time with him; that when he had gone, she was pale, preoccupied in fact, entirely unlike herself. I also saw thot she went ofteaer to her money desk, and some thing weighed upo-i her spirits; that now and then she went out in a sort of disguise; tntl dared not even eonjeo ture, though my mini was full of terri ble misgivings. One night I Bat up waiting for her till the clock struck eleven. I knew the rector had gone sometime before, aud was wondering what bad become of Miss Laura, when the door flew open and she came in. Her face was startlingly pale, and her eyes, unnaturally large, seemed to soin tUlate with quick fiery flashes. For a moment I was frightened, but at sight of me her oountenance changed. She nodded and smiled in her own pretty fashion; then, going straight to the mir ror, she suddenly gloomed again, and began, in an absorbed way, to pull the pins out of her hair. "Won't you let me do that for you, Miss Laura ?" I asked. "Not now I'm in a hurry; my hair is so heavy! it hurts mo my head has ached all the evening. u may do it up for the night there 1 now, my dressing-gown, child the easy-chair that is comfortable. I don't often keep you up so late, Renie. How cold your hands are!" It was not that my hands were cold it was that her head was hot, it throbbed heavily at the temples, aud it almost seemed as if the thick, warm mosses of golden brown palpitated as they fell over my arm, in rioh, unrestrained luxuriance. At length the long coil was combed and carefully fastened just above the nape of the shapely neck. "That will do, she said, almost im patiently, for I lingered. "I can get along myself now." Then I heard one quick, passionate sob, buf her face was hidden from me, for she had thrown both arms over her head, and the drapery concealed her teatures. I left her reluctantly, feeling that trouble had oome trouble between my beautiful mistress and the rector of St. Paul's. Was it on aooount of hor hand some cousin ? Vainly I tried to sleep. The ghastly fancy that she was sobbing on the other side of the wall haunted me. What if she still loved Philip Liansing ? Tue grave, proud face, of Mr. Walderon Beemed to lighten in its dis dain as I caught myself acting the part of Miss Laura in. an imaginary dramatio episode, he learning the fact that the woman he loved had been wooed, almost won, and thrown aside, and that still ber heart throbbed at sight of her old lover. On awaking the following morning, I found the sun shining broadly in my room. Miss Laura was an early riser, and must- have rung for me. Hastily dressing, I hurried to her room. She was up, sitting in the great arm-chair listlessly, like one dreaming with open eyes. i , Did you ring for me ?" I asked, "I? Yes. I believe I did," she re plied, with a start. "Dress me as quick ly as you can," she added, with foroed quiet; "I will have my breakfast brought up stairs. You can make some excuse to Miss Knox say I am not well, and I really am not. I don't care at all about breakfast, but, as I am going out, I suppose I had better eat something." I dressed her, and had a tray with coffee and toast sent up. When she had finished, she summoned-me again. "Renie, go put on your plainest wraps," she said, "and a thick Veil, and wait for me in the library. I want you to go out with me this morning." Wondering at her manner, so quiet and self-contained, so almost humble, more than at the message, I arrayed myself in a waterproof cloak, and drew a thick veil closely over my hat, and waited for her as she had directed. She came in presently, habited almost like a nun. I oould see how white her face was under the muffler she had drawn aoross it Placing in my care a parcel and a small basket, she led the way, leaving word with a servant that she might not be back to luncheon. That her errand, whatever it was, was a secret one, I knew by her manner, for she was nervous, and evidently suffer ing from some inward agitation. For several squares we walked along silent ly, and, on turning the corner of an ob soure street, she was joined by a gen tleman whose face I did not see at first, but whose firm, elegant figure was un familiar to me.. I heard Miss Laura say, in answer to some low-voiced remark: "I can trust her there's no risk, Philip." So this was the handsome cousin I Oppressed with almost overpowering anxiety, I fell back a step or two, ana followed slowly and unwillingly. On and on they went together, talking but little, and in low tones, till they had reached the lower plane, locally and morally, of the city. The house before which we stopped at last was somewhat different from its surroundings. It was flinked on one tide by a grim, deserted-looking ware house; on the other by an old Dutch ohnrch, whose few leaning, moss-oover-e.l headntones, in the small graveyard in tront, seemed sinking with age into the yielding turf. The house was grim and toded, the pa'nt dingy, and the front door full of seams and cracks; but it bad the redeeming quality of seclusion, for it sat far baok from the street, over looking a narrow garden-plat One window over the hall-door was draped with a scant lace curtain, and a pot of geraniums bloomed underneath on the sill. The young man, with a few eager, whispered words to Miss Laura, un locked the door with a key which he took from his pocket, and we entered a long, cheerless hall, and from there the dreary parlor, in which there was no vestige of furniture save two wooden chairs. " Sit down, Renie," said Miss Laura, face and manner preoccupied; "I will take the things, and you will wait for me here; I shan't be gone long." My heart sank as she disappeared, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Al ready I had hearp the tread of a man's foot up stairs, and Boon, in addition, the closing of the door above, and a light footstep. Never had I so keenly experi enced the dread of utter desolation as now whtle I sat in that deserted room. Doubtless children had played in it, and light hearts sung, for it had evidently been a cheerful home once, as the de faced ornamentation and faded frescoing gave evidence of former beauty. But now the plastering was broken, the walls were black with cobwebs, and the windows quite crusted with dirt It was evident that the place had been long un occupied. I had seated myself, when a step on the stairs and the opening of the door caused me to spring up in terror. Fhilip Lansing stood on the threshold, hat in hand, and his faoe absolutely lighted np the room. It was. as I had beard, radi- autly beautiful, with haunting dark eyes . . . ' . .1? 1L .1 11 i ' au tue more iasomaung tuut meir ex pression at that moment was intensely sad. "Oome. Renie." said a voice outside. I met Miss Laura in the hall. I thought she had been crying. She handed me a basket, that seemed heavier than the one I had brought "Renie, this is my cousin, Mr. Fhilip Lansing." she said. "He has lately re turned from abroad and this, Philip, is the little protege I told von about Mr. Philip condescended to touoh his hat, and we went outside into the little yard. Mr. Thilip accompanied us to the cor ner, and there stopped. "Had I not better get you a car riage ?" he asked. "No, indeed, Philip. I had muoh rather walk." she answered. "Oome np soon mamma likes to Bee you," she added, with, I thought only an assump tion of ease. We wal ked home rapidly, and in si lAnnA. Mitts Lanra seemed Tolunced in deep and painful thought. It was past lunch-time when we arrived, but a plate I of cake, and a goblet of milk, stood ready for Miss Laura on the table in her room. "Renie," Miss Laura said, "you will oblige me if you will eat my lunch eon for me. My head aches, and I am going to lie down." I drank the milk, but was not hun gry, and took the tray back to the kitch en. I fancied that even the under-serv-ainta looked at me suspiciously, and bur r ed back to my room. It was quite late when Miss Laura rose almost dinner-time, in fact. I dressed her hair, and was just putting on the finishing touches when she spoke abruptly: "Don't you think my cousin fine looking ?" "lie is handsome, Miss Laura," I said. "The handsomest man I ever sa w." "That's the general verdict," she re plied. "But," I added, eagerly, "I don't like his faoe; there are beautiful faces, I supposo, one can't like. Now, Mr. Walderon" "You surely don't call him hand some?" she said, with a soft laugh, that I did not quite like; then, in an under tone: "Handsome is that handsome does. Well, poor fellow I poor Philip I" she added, with a sigh that I could not help resenting, and fell into a fit of mus ing. Just before the bell rang for din ner a servant came in with a note and a great armful of water-lilies. How lovely they were I Their fragrance filled the room. In an instant Miss Laura's eyes were sparkling. She tore open the note with eager fingers, read it once, twice smiled, then came a burst like sunshine over her face. " Oh, the sweet, sweet things I" she cried, in an ecstasy. "I am so fond of them! Poor Philip! poor " Her voice sank to a murmar. How oould I think otherwise than that note and flow ers came from her handsome cousin, as she placed the lilies in a basin of water, where, with their lustrous leaves and long, coiling stems, they formed a beau tiful picture? Philip came after dinner on the follow ing day. A bright, well-dressed, ele gant and jubilant young gentleman the change was great from Philipin a slouched hat to Philip in all the glory of a fashionable suit His ease of man ner, grace, beauty of form, and merry laugh, made him almost irresistible. I sat in the little alcove leading from the general sitting-room, busy with some old lace I had been mending for Miss Laura, and I could see them both by in clining my head a little. They were a glorions pair, but it seemed to me ' that Philip had no right mere ne was tan - ing Mr. Walderon's place, and a sudden jealously sprang up in my heart, which changed almost to terror when the door opened and the rector of St. Paul's stood on the threshold. That same light that had come into her face when she received the hlies, flashed over it again, for in tbe interim I caught one glance of her as s.ie rose to meet Mr. Walderon. I fancied there was, also, a timid, beseeching look in her soft eyes as she came forward, witn out stretched hand, to meet him. but the rector advanoed slowly, and greeted Philip to whom he was presented,, oour- toouslv but coldly, while Miss Laura divided her attentions between the two, and Philip addressed her with more than oousinly freedom. As for mvseil. 1 tried to turns oi mani fold excuses for my mistress. I would not allow that the sweet girl at whose shrine I worshipped was a coquette; and still at least so it seemed to me, who Bat there under protest her manner grew colder and yet more distant toward the rector. He seemed to notice the grad ual alteration, for an hour had scarcely elapsed before he took his leave. "So that is Mr. Walderon, the lamous rector of old St Paul's!" I heard Philip say when, he had gone. "Yes: how do you like mm t miss Laura asked with something like eager ness. " He must look imposing in his dra peries," Fhilip replied. wen, were s no accounting for tastes." The speech seemed to sting ber, for he replied, in an altered voice: " That s what i thought yesterday. " Oh, oome, now, Lanra," he Baid, ' don't be hard on me. If you could have Been Celeste in her tropical home, in her fleecy white muslins, her cheeks tinted with the rich glow of health, you'd alter your opinion. She is not looking at all like herself; in fact, this base clim ate is killing her. Besides, her faoe de pends upon expression for its beauty. Suoh horrible chills would make the best complexion sallow." I was all ears. Celesto ? who was Ce leste? Should I listen unwittingly to some secret? was I forgotten in my corner ? Had I better go ? I felt re luctant to faoe them, having heard so much. " Oh, I didn't mean to depreciate her, Philip" " Only to punish me for not appreciat ing your rector was that it?" inter rupted Philip, with a laugh. "But what does a man want of beauty ?" and I oould see his conscious face, and read the vanity even in his voice. "Surely but Celeste is pretty, of course, and I hope sha will be well soon, poor little homesick stranger ! I'm go ing to send her some lilies that some body sent me yesterday part of them, I mean she came from a land of lilies. Just where did you find her, Philip ?" " On the Island of Barbadoea, in one of the coziest nests you can imagine. Poor child I I don't doubt she longs for ber native wilds the orange-trees, the shadeful bamboos, and her hammock. I was a barbarian to covet her." "I must see her often," said Laura. "I will go as often as I can." "Thank you; you are so kind and thoughtful, I knew you would like the poor little wife. Sometimes I reproach myself sadly for bringing her here, but what could I do starve ? And we came pretty near it." "O Thilip !" said Miss Laura, with a shnddering voice, "so poor as that!" I held my breath. Philip was mar ri'vl, then. It was his wife Miss Laura had been to see that morning. No need to fear for the rector's happiness now my suspense and suspicion had been both foolish and groundles. "Poor, indeed!" he repeated, most savagely. "Do you know if it had not been for that fifty dollars you lent me, she would have Buffered for the neces saries of life ? And when I went ta my uncle, and told him I had lost my money coming over, and almost my life, he made me an allowance of ten dollars a week. What would he say if he knew I had married a woman not worth one penny ? It would be total ruin to me if he knew of it; but I am sure, dear cousin, that you will never, by look or word, to your dearest friend whisper the intelligence. I would have kept it a secret, even from you indeed I would but that I feared the poor little creature would die if she did not see some friend. Above all, don't whisper it to the priest," he whis gered; "I'm afraid of him," and I fancied he drew nearer her. " You need not be; he is the soul of honor," and there was a slight shade of contempt in her voice. "But you have promised," he said, eagerly. " And I know how to keep my word," she answered, proudly. After that he was very gay, but I think his manner jarred upon her mood. She proposed that he should go up stairs and see her mother, who had asked for him, and together they left the room. It did not -take long for me to gain my own room, where I sat down to revolve things in my mini, coolly and dispassionately. Mr. Waldron had sent her the lilies, and the accompanying note of that I did not doubt There had probably been some misunderstanding the evening be fore, and the gift was a peace-offering. The lovers' quarrel, if it had taken so serious a complexion, had been caused in some way by this handsome cousin, who had burdened Miss Laura with his se cret The rector had evidently learned of her former attachment to Philip, and perhaps, being but mortal, was jealous. His brief, visit in the arternoou had con firmed me in my opinion, as he gener ally staid to tea. "Now, Philip should certainly keep away," said Reason and Cdmmon-sense. " His place is beside his poor young wife, especially if she is eick; and Miss Laura ought to tell him so." But Philip chose to come, often at all hours. Philip chose to attend St Pauls, and show his beautiful Greek profile in Miss Laura's own pew, and I fancied that Mr. Walderon grew uneasy, for certainly Laura's cousin did not act like a Benedict. I am sorry that ho gave me occasion to suppect, sometimes, that he was quite mean enough to pique the rector by his lover-like ways toward his cousin. One .evening I came down the wide staircase on an errand for Miss .Knox. Only the moonlight shone in the halL Miss Laura stood by the door of en trance, her back toward me, and the words she said came distinctly to my ear. " If you cannot trust me, if you cannot take my simple word, Mr. Walderon. there can be no more between us. If you cannot trust me wholly " and there her voice broke. A low murmur came in response, and he was gone. I was back in Miss Laura's room some time before she came up. Oh, how pale she was, and her eyes wore such a strained, hard look ! "Renie," she said, "are you here?" "Why, Miss Laura, don't you see me ?" I asked, frightened at her pallor and the way she moved her hands. " No; my head is giddy; it is all dark; it is all over. Where are you?" I caught and led her to the chair, but, as I put her down, she fainted qnite away. That was the commencement of a serious illness. For nearly five weeks I sat beside her, listening to her wild. delirious talk, and there I learned how devotedly she had loved the rector of St. Paul's, and that some of the med dling people of his congregation had told him of her clandestine meetings with her cousin. This, with other in formation of a like nature, and the fool ish freedom of her cousin himself, had led to a total disruption. In her grief and anger at his want of confidence in her, she had forbidden him the house. Night and day I did not leave ber bed side, till, qqite through accident, I learned that Mr. Walderon had been sick also, and was on the eve of a jour ney to England. "He looks dreadfully; you'd hardly know him for the same man," said my informant; and I knew by her manner that the blame was all laid at Miss Lau ra's door. I iaquired the particulars. If my informant was right, he was to start that very afternoon. My resolution was taken on the in stant Whether my mistress lived or died, whether I was violating a promise or not, I was determined to see the rec tor of St. Paul's, and tell him all. It took me bnt a short time to find the rec tory would he be at home? Yes; was shown into the library. There were trunks and packages in the hall. and a general confusion pervaded the house. Presently Mr. Walderon came in. 1 was startled, indeed, by the change in his looks, ' I have just oome from the sick-bed of Miss Laura De Neale," said I. He stared, made a gesture with his hand across his brow, as if to shade his eyes, and his lips worked. "I heard that she was ill," he said, slowly; am just recovering from sick ness myself." "I think, sir, from what I heard, yon are laboring under a mistaken idea," I began, rapidly, for fear of my resolu tion giving way. "You have been wrongly informed with regard to Miss Laura, and in her delirium she revealed her secret Her cousin Philip Lansing married a poor West India girl in Bar badoes. He is his uncle's heir, but, if the latter hears of this union, he will disinherit Mr. Philip, who is entirely dependent. So her cousin made Miss Laura promise to keep it a secret and it was ber, the pocr homesick stranger, Miss Laura has visited by stealth it was her she sent your lilies to. Osirl you are a minister, and I am a poor girl, but you never should have doubted my Miss Laura, I do dare Bay that" He stopped me with a quick uplifting of the hand. He did not say one word, but I never shall forget the f ace he turn ed toward me. I never saw a counten ance change so often in a few seconds as his did. " My good girl, my good friend I" he said, at last, seizing my band, and his voice was mnsio itself. I knew then all was right. Joy had restored him to his old self; there was no need of that voy age to Europe. After a full minute of silence he asked: " How is she now ? how did you leave her?" " They thought she was better." " Thank God Tor that I When may I see her ?" He was very humble now. " I will let you know," I said, and hurried home to her with a heart as light as a feather. And so it came to pass that one day, as she sat supported by pillows, white and shadowy, and more beautiful than she had ever been before in her brightest bloom, I told her that the rector of St Piul's was below stairs, waiting to see her. A faint flush tinged her cheeks a tender smile curved her lips. I left the room by one door as he en tered by the other. I could not keep from crying, and yet I was very happy. When Miss Laura rang for me to angels could njt have looked more bliss fully content And J knew what the pressure of his hand meant as he bade me good by. He will go abroad, after all, but not without Miss Laura. As for her cousin Philip, I trust years may make him wiser, but I pity the poor little stronger who married him for his handsome face. Apple ton's Journal. Words of Wisdom. A good cause makes a stout heart. Progress is born of doubt and anxiety. Candid thoughts are always valuable. A wounded reputation is seldom cured. nope is a good breakfast, but a bad supper. He who can take advice is sometimes superior to him who gives it. Method is the hinge of business, and there is no method without order and punctuality. Some of the grandest things which have bet achieved were by those whom we thought our inferiors. Education is a friend at home, an in troduction abroad, an ornament to society, and a solace in solitude. The tallest trees are most in the power of the winds, and ambitious men of the cyclones of failure, disaster and business reverses. Man. being essentially active, must find in activity his joy. as well as his beauty and glory, and labor, like every thing else that is good, ia its own reward. He that does good to another man also does it to himself, not only in the oonsequenoe, but in the very act of doing it for the consciousness of well doing is au ample reward. She Knew Her Business. When Collins went home to dinner Monday he found the house tenantless, the cook-stove cold, and there was a lonesome look about that part of the Monday washing still left in tbe tubs in the Bummer kitchen. Hurrying through to the back yard Le saw his wife braced against the fence, holding to the end of a broken clothes-line to keep me newly washed garments from the ground. " You've got here at last, have you I" exclaimed the wife as she caught sight of him. " Yes, I'm here what's the matter f " he repeated. " Here I've been holding this broken 1 !n a 4T a Avaw can lstni svai a full Vutnt liUv IVSJ. V V V CBU uum W W J. M sir !" Bhe snapped. " I was determined to die right here before 1 d let these clothes down !" "But why didn't you call some one?" he innocently inquired. "There's that new. family next door the woman would have come over in one minute." " Woman next door, you big idiot, you ? Hasn't she been peeking around and peeking around for two weeks to see my wash, and d'ye think I'd give her a chance to come over here and Bee for herself whether the sleeves of my nightgown were pieced down with un bleached cotton I You don't know any thing, sir, and you make tracks for" a piece of rope, sir !" " Well, I swan !" growled Collins as he " tracked." Detroit IVee Press. Items of Interest. Barbers always predict short crops. The gardener's ditty Beet root to me. A first-rate article for tbe teeth- Food. "This must ,be looked into," as the young lady said to the mirror. "Will you love me when I mould ? as the loaf of bread said to the house keeper. la winter, rngs; In summer, bugs; In sickness, drugs; ' In adversity, shrugs. Somebody prints a book to show how to get "twenty-five cent dinners for families." Now let somebody print a book showing how to get the twenty five cents. The old story about the little boy who wished that he was built like a hen-coop, so that the breeze could blow right through him, is again traveling the rounds of the press. Angle-worms do not suffer, a natural ist thinks, when put on a fish-hook. The twists and squirming and contor tions are made by the hook. Queer case of optical illusion, you see. The man who takes the bitter pill, A wry face clearly shows; But he who lingers at the still, Will soon show a rye nose. And if he reads while he imbibes, And knowledge fills his head, Himself and nose, like learned scribes, Will both soon be well read. JV. J. Republican. At Stekesley, Yorkshire, Eug- land, lives a man who once as sisted in singing the . whole of the 119th Psalm, and this is how it is Baid to have happened. The parson cf a church had an invitation to attend a marriage breakfast, and so made his Bermon very short in order that he might be punctual. The clerk, howev er, objected to this way of passing the - Sunday, and when the time for singing came gave out the 119th Psalm. The clergyman did not at first notice wnat was going on. and when he did the mu sicians were fairly at work and could not be stopped. The air was never lost. The fiddlers wore out their bows ana strings, the flute player blew out his front teeth, the clarinet never recovered its tone, and the singers all snllered more or less, but they kept it up to the bitter end and finished at three o'clock in the afternoon, after four hours' hard work. Many of the congregation went home to dinner, and returned in the afternoon to the finish, bnt the parson won much respect by sticking to his pulpit to the last, and at the conclusion of the dismal performance he dismissed the congregation without a word. Treatment of Slceplcssne . , , So many persons suffer nowadays from sleeplessness that every contribution to the literature of the subject is of inter est Dr. Ainslie Hollis, in the London Practitioner, maintains that, although the quantity of blood in the brain is diminished during sleep, this diminution is not the sole caiise of slumber, for we may have the former without the latter. One of the most efficient menns of in ducing natural 6leep is the application of mustard plasters to the abdomen. Preyer, of Jena, advocates the adminis tration of a freshly made solution of lactate of aroda.or of Borne milk or whey, on the hypothesis that sleep may be in- , duced by the introduction of the fatigue products of the body. The alkalies and alkaline earths are useful when acid dyspepsia is associated with the insom nia. Electricity has been used in the paresis of the vaso-motor nerves due to an overworked brain. In hot weather, sprinkling the floor .of the sleeping apartment with water lessens irritant properties of the air, adding much to the comfort of the sleepers; possibly the quantity ef ozone is at the same time increased. When sleep is broken bv severe pain, opium or morphia is vf value, not only by relieving the pain bul by its action in produoing aiitemia of tL oerebra vessels. In the wakefulness dse to neuralgia, it is often better to injw t a small dose of morphia hypoderm: cally near the branch of the affected nerve, than to administer it by t! mouth. It is doubtful whether t! bromides possess hypnotio properties, although they undoubtedly act as seda tives on the nervous system, aud as Bue, may oooasionallyiduce sleep. k Fashion Notes. The new bunting for summer dresses has laoe stripes. Yellow, in all its many ugly shades, continues in favor. Alsatian bowB are worn in dresses, hats and slippers. Beige-colored net, worked with rose buds, make pretty summer bonnets. . A skilful imitation of a bee is used t decorate costumes intended for garden parties. Organdie muslin plaitings are used on shade hats to give them a dressy ap pearance. Seaside hats are trimmed with bron' galloon, with a gay wing on the loft of the hat. Blouses are mftoh worn, and ODC i the newest makes is called the "Car men " blouse. The rough straw braids are very much worn for demi toilet, and are ei tremely stylish. Extreme simplicity is affected tL' season for out-door toilets. Long tr & i . and gay colors are reserved for ltou wear. Swinging side pockets of, velvet, v silver clasps, are suspended by chains to the waistcoat of a acket costumes.
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers