ndale, work, ranted pany’s rouble whom e. The Ww no J., al) 1g be- ivance gecur- ht to mount about | airing Eng., e em- ‘free’”’ locked unload © , Joe h, who juarry, were e 1iv- er was 10p of shatta- uigley, re in- badly only itt. by ng. rt last Kansas \S Very e also » is a id the > State rs 71,- year condi- is time ression Vorld’s s much 1 taste Appear- 3 thus great [alacca ravag- ported have d some er, De- epread om the e last rthwest wiped by the Loss, m De- mpany [oledo, ointed, of the dleton, an ax, d child d dead t Han- 3, troops: {exico. nd 10 | and aneiseo river en its: > and 28 and less of hicago. ) and t. Ig taf, i 8 1 8 SPRING, {The sun has kissad the slumberin= bods ! And waked the earth to glory, -Aroused from wiater’s dreary sleep, - Asin the fairy story The prince’s kiss awoke the maid « When be in slumber found her, .And at the touch the sleeping world ~ _ “~ Moved, rose and stirred around her, The spring is here. In bush and tree . "A hundred birds are singing; ‘The flower-buds swell, and from the earth A bundred shootsare springing. <Woe till the ground, we plant the szed : While balmy winds are blowing, ‘And pray God bless the harvest field, =. And prosper all our sowing. «Ena O:"Wright, in Outing, a Washout on Horse-Head. BY FRASE W. CALKINS. ‘4 EARLY all the creeks ~& which are tributary to the two Chey- ennes, the upper North Platte Rivers have their sources among the ‘breaks’ of a high, irregular _ plateau, which lies like a vast, ragged- : edged, wide-topped mountain across northwestern Wyoming. A network of ditches, gulches and canons, a labyrinthine tangle of water- ways, slashing the sides and angles of the breaks, goes to form the heads of these creeks. These numerous and precipitous run. lets produze the dreaded washouts which, in the season of rains, occasion- ally Pood the upper .valleys of all the streams in that region. Those who are acquainted with the country make it a point to avoid building a habitation of any kind in the narrow creek valleys, and npever encamp in them in the season of rains, which come in April, May and June. In these months occasional violent showers, accompanied by frightful elec- tric displays, occur upon the plateau, and the rains which fall in floods are poured so suddenly down the deep, hard beds of thousands of ditches and small canons that their volume reaches the valley of a creek with all the effect of a cloud burst. In 1878 my uncle was one of a party of *‘tender-foots” who lost half a dozen wagons and. most of their horses and, effects, and had three of their number drowned in the valley of Beaver Creek where it comes out at Buffalo Gap. My uncle lost a riding pony and saddle, a trunk containing seme valuables, his gun and all his clothing except that in which he had lain down. During the building of the ¢‘Black Hills Branch” railway, several camps of workmen were overtaken by a flood in the deep, canon-like valley of a short tributary of the South Cheyenne. Five of them perished in the flood, and their camps were completely wrecked. A few years ago a Swede, named Scharf Bergman, emigrated from Min- nesota to the vicinity of the V. 30X. ranch near the source of Horse-Head Creek. He came early in the season, with his wife, several children and a bunch of sheep, and built a-shack of cot- tonwood logs about a mile below the V. 30X. buildings. : The prospective railrend had attracted many settlers, or ‘‘nesters,” as the cow- boys called them. They were dropping in and buildings their tempurary cabins all along the stream, and were already beginning to break land. The ranch- men at the V. 30X., like all cattlemen, had a contempt tor agricultural settlers, whom they regarded as an obstruction. and a nuisance. One day, when the Swede had been in his cabin about a month, Bob Nugent and 4‘Tex”—I never learned Tex's full or real name—two cowboys who were stopping alone at the ranch, happened to ride by the Swede's shack, and noted that he had built it upon a flat in the narrow valley, scarcely four feet above the level of the creek’s ordinary bed. The settler was at the moment up- hitching a yoke of oxen from a load of pine wood which he had just hauled down from the breaks. Three tow- headed children were climbiog up on the wagon. The cow-boys saw at a glance the perilous situation of his cabin. They turned their horses’ heads and rode dowa to the man. ¢How d’ye doi” said Tex. . “How do?” answered the Swede, wit a suspicious look on his face. ¢‘Look hyere!” said Tex. “If you don’t pull your freight out o’ that hoie, the next washout ’ll drownd you an’ your woman an’ all them leetle cotton tops.” ¢+Vat you said?” answered Bergman. With some difficulty Bob Nugent made the man understand that they advised him to remove his shack and effects to higher ground, to escape a possible flood. But Bergman had heard of the dislike of the cattlemen to ‘‘nesters,’’ and suspected a wicked design to frighten him off his claim. «I bees a man,” he said stoutly. *¢I have always mint my own beesness. Bet- ter you mint yours, meester gattiemans. I stay where 1 was.” So the cow boys left him, but made up their minds to keep an eyo open toward the cabin, at least for the sake of the woman and children. : Only a few days after this a sudden gtorm came up in the night. Bob was awakened by a terrific clap of thunder, and a moment later heard the rain pour- ing in torrents. He rose and looked out; the water was falling in floods, as he could see by the constant vivid flashes of lightning. He thought of the Swede and his family, and hurrying to the room where Text slept, woke him—Tex hada repu- gation at the ranch as a sleeper—and two or three minutes later the two cow- Boys were dressed and out in the storm. Yom \“ Inounderstan that,” Niobrara and the They found the water running ankle deep down the side hill upon which the ranch building stood. It was as viclent a storm as they had ever known in that region. Greatly alarmed for the family | of the Swede, they ran to the horse cor- Jral, caught two of the ponies, which | were huddled under a storm shed, and { stopping only to bridle them, rode at a | breakreck speed down the valley. When they reached the shack in which Bergman lived they saw that the bed of the creek was already filled with a tor- rent of water, which tumbled and foamed as they had often seen it before in ad- vance of toe swift flood which would { inevitably fill the little valley, rolling 't down like au avalanche. The lightning was so incessant as to keep all objects near at hand within plain view. Bob sprang from his horse and pouaded loudly on the rough door. Soon it was cautiously opened, and Bergman thrust out his head. ° «*Come,” shouted Bob. ¢‘Out o' this with ye, or you'llall be drowned in your blankets!" * Bergman looked stolidly out into the storm. «You yo away viz yourselves,” he shouted. ‘You like putty vell get me out by dis walley, heh? You ko avay! I neffer vill ko, I say you!” He had allowed the door to open gradually, and stepped partly out into storm as he grew more 1n earnest, acd wound up in quite a rage, shaking his ‘fist in Bob's face. He was a plucky fellow, at least, as the boys admitted; and believing that they were maliciously trying to get him and his family out into the storm for some purpose, he was determined to make a bold resistance. «Vot you goin’ do by dat?” he ex- claimed; for Tex, while thie Swede was talking, had pressed up close behind Bob on his pony, and hearing the well-known roar of the washout, knew that some- thing must be done quickly. The pony which he rode had, as stock ponies often do, a rope dragging at its neck, Gather- ing this quickly into a coil; Tex swiftly made a running noose, and yelling sharply to Bob to get out of the way, dropped it over the Swedes head and shoulders. Toen he gave it a sharp jerk, and started his pony off ata trot. Tae throw was skilfully made. It caught Bergman about the middle, pin- 1oning his arms at his sides. The pony dragged hit away in spite ot his struz- gles and yells. s¢Fetch them cotton-tops quick, Bob!” called Tex, as he hauled the struggling man away toward higher ground. Bob needed no admonition. As Berg- man was jerked past him be sprang through the doorway. The woman had got out of bed, and stood with a blanket thrown around her and a small child in her arms. She had lighted a small lan- tern which hung at the head of their buuk, and by its light Bob saw three other children huddled in a frightened heap upon a bed in another coroer. Bob shouted fiercely at the woman to get out with her child aad run for the high ground. She stood as if dazed, staring at him in blank fright. He pushed her toward the door and out into storm. Taen rushing to the bunk which con- tained the children, he eaught up two of them—the third had crawled under the bed while he forced its mother out- side—-and rushed out with them. The flood had come with the usual mad rush ot a washout. The water al- ready enveloped the shack, which stood upon a very slight rise or hillock, and Bob found himself wading knee-deep before he could reach the high land some fifty yards away. He found the woman, thoroughly arotsed at last, also wading toward high ground, clinging to her little ooe and calling piteously* *‘O Scharf! Scharf! Mine born, mine born!” ssCome on! come on!” shouted Bob, wading in ahead of her. ‘‘Here’s two o'yer young uns, an’ I'll git t'othern in a minute.” In a few seconds they were upon dry ground, where Tex asd Bergman stood, anxiously scanning them by such light as the electric storm furnisned, for the Swede saw the flood now, and the dan- ger, and no longer doubted that [riends were getting his family out of fearful peril. Without waiting for a. word Bob dropped his burdens the moment his feet touched ‘ground, and turned back into tpe flood. Before he had made a dozen steps, though, Tex's pony was plunging at his side, splashing water all over him as the rider shouted in his ear to kuow if there were a child still left in the shack. “Yes,” shouted Bob; bunk{” Only waiting to yell: ¢‘Go back! I'll git him!” Tex dashed past,lashing his ho at a plunging gallop through the water. The flood was above his boot tops in- side the cabin when Tex, holding to his pony's rope, sprang in at the door. The child, a boy of seven or eight years, had emerged from its hiding place and crawled back upon the bed, where it lay screaming. Tex snatched the boy, aed, running -out, threw him astride the pony. ¢*Hang on, cotton . top” he shouted, s¢an’ we'll pull ye through!” But the water was rising an 1nch a second, and before he could mount be. bind the child and get half a dozen yards away from the shack the animal's feet were swept from under it by the swift current, and horse and riders were struggling together in the rolling flood. There was no such thing as staying upon tae pony’s back, for the water was not yet deep encugh to enable the horse to swim, and the creature simply strugz- gled, plunged, and finally rolled clear over in the attempt to keep its feet. Tex had hard work to save the boy from going under. I'ora time he feared that both he and the child were done for. But by a powerful effort, he completely freed poth the little fellow and himself from the animal. Then he had to swim for it, burdened as ‘be was, in a swift, tumbling flood filled with the wash of the breaks, Quartering the current as near as he could. and holding the boy under one stander the. and his legs to propel himself. The water had now risen so that he could not touch bottom, and the flood was at raging height. It roared in his ears, whilc the rain descended in torrents upon his bead. The boy, too much frightened to re. alize anything, clung to him about his neck with a grip that was almost. stran- gling. More than once Tex thought himself lost, as some sudden movement plunged his head under the surf-se, and the boy's tightened grasp choked him until the water poured dcwa his throat. Bat each time he managed to right him. elf before his lungs were filled. Many times as he struggled in the water he thanked the good fate which bad given him plenty of practice in swimming in his boyhood. At last he dragged the poor, trem< bling, half-drowned child out upon dry land, and had the satisfaction of de- livering him safely to his distressed parents. The family were lodged that night at the V. 30X. Next day it was discovered that Tex's pony and one of the ‘Swede's oxen and a few of his sheep had been drowned. The shack was swept away, and only a few of the household goods were ever recovered. : man was glad enough to get off so cheaply; and it is needless to add, was grateful to bave had his family saved, even by violence. When he next buils a cabin he made sure to put it beyond reach of a washout.—Youth's Com- panion. meni ren IIR tris. What “New York” Means. It is a matter of pride and patriotism, and of education, for young readers to think of this—of what is meant bya metropolis—when they visit New York. That the meaning is impressive is shown by the impulse which brings every one, old or young, to see the great town. For every American rightly feels that he has a share in it—as he feels that he has a share in the National capital, Washing- ton; he knows that his own State has contributed to its wealth and'talent and local traits, and that here he has a right to feel at nome. He comes to a city which, as we learn from one authority, has a wealth ‘‘greater than that of the entire State of Pennsylvania,” and five times greater than Ilhnois with its world famous city of Chicago. He learns that in a space aot much grealer than the London metropolitan district, there are over 3,000,000 of his fellow beings. Make the suburban circle a little larger, and 1,000,000 more will be included; so that New York with its suburbs is now the second among the civic centers of Europe and America. In visiting this metropolis, moreover, with its unique mixture of nationalities, he sees the peo- ples and zustoms of the entire civilized world. ar Thoughts of this kind probably are not what chiefly fill the minds of New York's younger visitors. They and I know very well the sights they chiefly come to ‘see, the famous marvels and attractions of the great town—the Brooklyn Bridge, the Liberty Statute, Trinity Church, the Exchanges, the great newspaper offices, Cooper Institute, Madison Square Gar- den, the parks, Grant's tomb, the mu- seums, monuments, and places of his. toric interest. They wish to see the shipping av the docks, the huge ocean steamers, the yacht fleets; the rich and brilliant shopping districts—yes, and their frequenters, for I am not the first to think that the woman of New York, from the fashionable dames and damsels to the spirited, self reliant shop girl, whether of native or foreiga blood, or of the two commingled, have a more various beauty, and a style and carriage more indisputable than.can be observed elsewhere. When I was a boy, Barnum's Museum was the place which boys and girls visited without" delay. Toat does not seem (to me) very long ago; but now for young and old, and delights and wonders far more confusing and endless than those which Christian and Faithful found in Vanity Fair. But rather than to catalogue such sights, I shall try to convey some idea of New York as a whole, of its character for good or bad, of what it means now, and what it is to be and to mean in the future.—E. C. Stedman in St. Nicholas, tren en eset An Interestin; Criminal. Joseph Smith, the eleven~year-old Denver (Col.) murderer who has been sen- tenced to imprisonment for life, deserves to rank with Jesse Pomeroy, the Boston boy criminal. Young Smith deliberately killed a man because he wanted to get his vice tim’s watch. He frankly admitted this and apparently saw no barm in shootin g a man in the back in order to rob him with impunity. His extreme youth saved him from the gallows, but, if he had lived and committed his crime a few generations ago, the death penalty would have been inflicted in his case beyond a doubt. The cases of Pomeroy, Smith and other juvenile monsters support the theory that some human beings are born without the moral faculty, just as others are born without the faculties of sight, hearing or s)cech. = Whether society should put such dangerous beings to death or not is a serious question. = So= ciety prefers a milder method, and life imprisonment is supposed to fit the case. Against « this, - however: there. is one strong objection. . We change our rulers every .tew years, .and young eriminais sentenced for life ‘very. rarely serve out their terms. - After they have been in prison a few years; the: people elect a tender-hearted Governor, people sign a petition, and the murderer is pardoned on the ground of ill health-ot'on account of sentimental ednsiderdtions. It is impossible to'lay down any posi. tive rules in such cases. = Taese excep- tional manifestations: of depravity will have to be dealt with- in. an exceptional way.—-Atlanta Constitution. One thousand ‘eight hundred and fifty towns and cities in the United States ars eauipned with eleciric lights. ¥ there are scores of places of amusement: arm, he struck out, using the other arm ! boy 4 hint to take to the woods. SOLDIERS’ COLUMN THE CONTRABAND. nig How the Cavalry Brought a Colored Man Into Suffolk, a emer SOMETIME in Juiy 1862, a de- tachment of the 11th Pa. Cav.un~- der Lieut. Col Spear was sta- tioned at Sufiolk Va., Gen, Mans- field was in com- mand, and or- ders had been is- sued allowing citizens outside of our lines to coms in and pur- chase supplies upon their tak- ing the oath of allegiance. Many had availed them selves of the This excited the wrath of the vilege. Lt) fellow-citizens, and a system of perse- cation so common in the South in those days was at once begun, plaints came into Headquarters, and Co. A., Capt. ¥. A. S ratton, was sent out to investigate and warn the evil-doers of the consequences of their conduct. Our route led us through Somerton toward the Chow- an River. A part of two days was spent in chasing rebel preachers and arresting Home Guards, otherwise guerrilias. On our re- turn we halted at Dr. Savage's to feed our horses and make cotfee, The corn came from the Doctor's crib. : 3 As I was sitting on a log enjoying my salt®pork and hardtack, the Doctor took a seat beside me and inquired how he was to get his pay for his corn. Itold him there would be no difficulty about it; all he would have to do was to go to Suffolk. and prove his loyalty and the Government would pay him. ~ His chin fell so suddenly I thoughs it would drop off. a We were soon on the march. I was riding at the rear of the column,and when about a mile from the Doctor's a colored boy came out of the woods and trotted alongside my horse, I asked him where he was going. “0, 1 gwine with you all.” He said he be- longed to Dr. Savage; that the Doctor was a hard master. 4 He was telling me his troubles, chancing to look back, I saw the when, Doctor coming in his gig as fast as his horse could carry him. As he came up he asked me to catch the boy for him. 1told him 1 was not engaged in that business just then. The boy passed through among the horses so as to put the moving column between him and the Doctor, and ran up to the head where the Captain was riding; the Doctor making his way to the same point. The command halted, and I rode up to the front. The boy with both hands raised and tears streaming from his eyes, was pleading with the captain not to send him back. e told what a Secesh the Doctor was; how he cursed ycu-all; how he said it he took the oath he would spit it out. The Doctor told the boy thas if he would go back with him he would not hurt him. “Ob, yes, you know you will. You will whip me to death,” the boy replied. The Doctor asked the Captain what he intended to do about it. The Captain said that if the boy wanted to go back he could do so, but he should not compel him. The Doctor then asked if he should attempt to take him and he resisted and he should shoot him, what we would do. At that question Hi Evans, who certainly laid no claims to being an Abolitionist, spoke up: “We would shoot you, — quick.” : Some of us had been tryiug to give the At this point a poor white came up in his cart, and the Doctor called on him to assist in taking the boy. One glance and the boy was in the woods out of sight. The help would not have availed the Doctor, asthe men would not have allowed then to take the boy. We moved on, the Doctor followed at the rear. We could occasionally catch a glimpse of the boy as he run through the woods parallel with the column, and he was cer- tainly doing himself credit in the way of poi | Finally, Barnes dropped out of the ranks and informed the Doctor that the men were becoming’ impatient about his following them; that he must get behind the rear guard. The Doctor wanted to know if it was the Captain’s order. Barnes re- pled that it was his order, aud if he knew when he was well off he would obey. He waited with the Doctor until the rear guard came up, and po-ted them on the situation, They moved very slowly, and got a long Nay behind. After a run of two or three miles the boy came out on the road. One of the men dismounted and let him ride un- til be got his breath. He went into Suffolk with us, and we saw our contraband no fore. 0, L. CrUIKSHANK, in National Tri- ‘bune. BEAUTY AND BEAVERY,. An Incident of the War Which Shows That They Are Found Together. ‘What sort of men are likely to be found the bravest? A writer in the Atlantic raises this question, and seems to come to the quite unexpected concinsion that physical beauty is perhaps the rest sign of vsi- cal courage He quotes a French Phi pher as saying that‘ where bravery amounts to madness there is always something womanish about the face and bearing,”’and relates an incident of the civil war which. seems to point to a similar conclusion. ’ I attended a festival at Harpers Ferry near the close of the war. Gen. Sheridan had ordered that all who had captured battle- flags or performed any remarkable feat of daring should repair to the parade ground to receive such decoration as they deserved which was done to the accompaniment of martial music and many cheers. I looked with great pride upon the motley collection of the bravest of braves,and with no little interest, tax 1 hoped to discern among the elect some sign which would segregate these companions-in-arms from their conge:s of lesser renogn. Alas! they were of every hue and shape and almost of every nationality, the American types pre- dominating, for we were four to one against all other natiopalities. .. They were for the most part, a quiet !ook- ing body of voung men, displaying as much coolness in this the supreme hour of tri. umph as had been shown on the occasions which had led to it. One type of the soldier was conspicuous ' by its absence—I ean the stalking; self- conscious, maore-than-erect sort of person, having the practiced frown and quick flash of the dark eye, the ideal soldier in time of peace, but there were present some pictur- esqge-looking fellows of the Buflalo Bill kind, presumably from the plains. All were clad in Uncle Sam's uniform of blue and Virginia's uniform of swarthy tan. All looked hardy and weather worn. and as they passed in review before Gen. Max Weber's headqnarters the one distin. guished characteristic of these youths was expressed by a Virginia lady who stood near me, and who as the regiment belie of Har- per's Ferry, doubtless considered that she SpokS with Buthoney. ‘What a handsome group of boys, Y though they be.” group oy Suk Not One Worthy. The second chancellor's medal for classics has been withheld this year at Cambridge University, England, the examiners finding no candidate worthy to receive it—a circumstance that has occurred only ence before in 150 years. ‘mouth and those level eyes of hers FAIR WOMANS DOMINION lise STYLES OF BEAUTY end I1liusirated by Some Pictures. How Ap- propriateness of Costume Sets off the Good Points,and How Bad Taste Mars Them. elfen. OU may see a lot of por- traits in this fashion ar- ticle. It doesn’t matter who the girls were, fur- ther than that they were genuine belles in their first season ‘‘out’’ society. They were not beauties yet not one of them lacked charm. The attractivenessin each case was of a different nature. They were all young and ahout the same age, yet only in the case of one - was the charm largely that of youth. The first was, perhaps, the *‘commonplace’’ one of the lot, but she had such a bright. wholesome face. The head was wide at the temples and just below; the cheek bones a little high, and so the cheek outline was marred somewhat; the nose, a sturdy little feature with a humorous ten- dency about the tip of it; a determined chin and a mouth that needed softening a little— kisses would do it, but make sure never a one but the right one would ever get a chance to do the softening. The coloring « "was rad dy and wholesome and the hair full of glints.She had a round, pretty figure that might be iuade more of than that firm ret. ted. She looked a sweet, lovable girl, not beautiful,but who stop to think of that! The next girl would have struck you as young before any other impression was meade. Her face was not beautiful, either, so far as regularity of feature went, but she had such rare coloring. Theskin wasa pale pink, the hair like a childs, yeliow without gloss, and the eyes, set very far apart, were violet under b:ack lsshes. Boj forehead and chin set back a little from the fuilest curve of the profile. A dreamy, lov. ing intellectual face. the sort of face thal makes one remember that the lovliesi woman is-net and neyer will be to many of us, the woman with {‘initellect.” The aver age blonde is likely fo: have a sharpness of contour and wide eyes. In other words the face, though beautiful, is often a little cold, and a little shrewish—a face that easily sug: gests temper and discontent and primness But it is not so with this type. The head siroops on the slender neck. the lids are heavy. the eyes appealing and the lips wist- ful. The form is likely to be slender, neves angular, and the curve of the back is al ways lovely. The bands are delicate. .The taste is so likely to select soft materials and delicate colors that such a girl seldom fails, all unconsciously, to be quite in harmony with herself, from the soit knot of ber hair to the soft folds about her feet, and the pale beauty of the colors she selects. The other girl will be prettier far in her thirties than she is now. The one takes more chances in life than does the other. What possibilities does modern life pre-ent such a face. Observe what narrow eyes and straight delicate brows, the short neck and well rounded figure; a strange mixture of feeling and intellect. The lower jaw is weil in advance of the upper. the lips are full and red. It is not » modern face by any means. The pale hair and gray eves belong to each other. , A picture never does such a a face justice. One is likely to say “‘uvgl to the picture; it never occurs to ae cd 80 of the original. Women with faces like this used to realize their powers. In mod- ern society they may live and die and know only that they are bored a good deal, One always expects the nose to be the least bit the delicate Roman type. Perhaps it is the distinctly modern line of that feature that reconciles the face to its surroundings. Such a woman is specula- tive, introspective and cruel, too, if it occurs to her to be. Not cruel ‘to hurt,” but to see how the vietim will act. A cold, bitter cruelty to encounter, yet one that means less harm than it may accomplish. Such a woman is round-limbed and lithe, except the short neck, that somehow goes with her bull dog chin and lower lip, and adds to that part of the strange fascination of her face. She dresses conventialiy always. The modern dress does not rouse her imigina- tion. She could never realize ber possibili- ties of beauty in it. so it is as well. She needs the vivid gowning of old times, and barbarous brilliancy of jewels, and rich drapery. Itisa wonder she does not realize this!* Bit maybe that is accounted for b: her pale hair. She i3'-a women now at 5 far more than vither of the others are, or, for that matter, ever will bé. The years may bring her greater beauty; the wiil surely add interest to her face, She. of them all. has a future, and seems also to have had a past. Her chances for happiness are few. She is likely to make mistakes in her choice of companion. Intellect and inclination, too, must be satisfied. Mere affection will not suffice. She will demand much and give little. just looked at, who will give all and ask only thatsthe mav give. Unlike the first girl, who will want liitle but practical com- panionship and who will give just whole some affection and good natured comrade ship. If one might go into palmistry the hands of these three wonid afford strange contrast. This last hand is long and firm and like a man’s for strength, The palm is bright with color, and the first finger Ibng. The hair dressing is curiously at varianca with the tvpe of face, Thats becanse this woman gives no thought to her dress and wear. No use talking, every girl does not suit the parting of hair at the brows; and those who do not should not permit themselves to be bullied info adopting it. The girl with a low forehead and strong chin will usually, be wiser if she keeps to her own modifications of the pompadour, When the pompadour 1s used a« a hard shiny roll of hair, sort of skinned back from the fore- head, and outlining the temulein an un- compromising way, it isseldoun: a becoming style unless the features are severely regu- lar. Bunt the porapadour that is merely a drawing back very loosely and softly of the front hair into a soft. puffy continuation of the haif coil at the cfiown of the head as. ' shown in the third picture is a'most surely pretty. Job Lot of Walls. The late Samuel E. Adams, of Richmond, Ind., was fond of telling of a remarkable coincidence which happened several years ago. During a severe thunder storm a canary bird flew into the house. Within a few minutes a shivering and badly fright- : ened spaniel was found begging for admission. The dog was let re than an hour afterward a child was heard crying on the outside and the door opened to admit a livtle tot scarcely 2 years old. The child, dog and canary were never claimed. Mr. Adams found a comfortable home for the little one, while he continued to care for the dog and bird. ——ln RECEPTION GOWN. ae Un ike the blond
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers