ELLEN OSIIORN'S LETTER. Eome of Fashion's Fancies as Seen in Paris. I'arlNtan Drennes Prepuce*] for tlie Troiußoau of a Vonun PrlneeMa of Italy—l'D Ique 10 nip Ire Cos tume—Hull Dresden. [Copyright, 1897.] Paris, .—ln u famous atelier 1 saw this morning some very pretty dresses in preparation for a wedding to take place after Easter in a noble family in Italy. The trousseau differs from that which would be provided for a rich American girl chiefly in the quantity of old and valuable laee drawn from the family treasures and used for the adornment of evening wraps and gowns. For spring wear at Sorrento, where t he bridegroom has a villa, is a dress of glazed taffeta of eiear opalescent tones, blue, gold or green as the light glances. On the material are scattered designs of small flowers in blue and gold. The skirt is cut after the most original of the new spring patterns, with a front shaped like an apron, narrow at the top, hml widening slowly to the bot tom. It is quite full on the sides and is laid in deep godets behind. The skirt is trimmed with a wide band of embroidery set on in broad, shallow scallops about 18 inches from the bottom. The design of the embroidery is white and golotte(l with pink and blue. The petticoat of this dress is of pink taffeta, round at the bottom and just touching the lloor. The mousseline de soie is ortrait so as to get in all of your gown."—Chicago Post. YOUR TIME WILL COME. Tls not the hopeless that achieve. The faltering foot that reaches goals; No web of gain can fortune weave From fiber of recoiling souls. Endure. P.epel fear's Icy clutch That fain would pluck your heart away: Bco barriers crumble at your toucfr, And know your time will come seme day. Yes, "all things come to him who waits," But meanwhile you must labor too; Barred shall remain possession's gates 'Till your strong hands the hasp undo. Armed with most steadfast purpose, learn Beyond the clouds of chilliest gray The certain sunlight to discern, And feel your time will come some day. Oh, tameless spirit! Hall elate Ail harrowing trials, whips and stings That come, because their chastening weight The soul to higher stature brings! And strength redoubled shall replace The blood that trickles as they May; The way Is long, but yours the race; Surely your time will come some day! —John Talman, In Chicago Times-Herald. "REPLY RAID." BY FRANCES FORnES-ItORERTSON, f~"HE had received a letter in the morn ing begging her to somehow procure him a little money. Things were going badly, and he had thought of it all day long, having dispatched the lit tle she had, and, for the thinking, things looked no bel ter. Iler brother had not enough to live upon, and there was an end of it. Fate was niggardly with them nil. During the afternoon tlie girls came in, and Mrs. Hamlin. Mrs. llamlin was always delightful and cheery. llcr lovely dresses and sweet face and fragrant ele gance reminded Maisie that at least she was the right person in the right place—with fitting surroundings, and the beautiful things of life that all wom en instinctively claim us their right, hers. "Maisie, you look preposterously de jected. What is it? Are you in love with an anarchist, or is it only general aspirations towards the impossible?" "No, I am not in love; but I nin think ing of proposing to some one." "Why?" "Because I nun in a hurry. Fred, you know, is frightfully hard up." "But why don't you accept Mr. How ard, when'he's so devoted, poor man?" "That wouldn't be fair, because, you see, he is devoted, and I—no, 1 think a fat man with beard and glasses is the sort of thing—in the abstract." "O, excellent in the abstract. Pro tects you, is kind to you, and gives you checks. In the concrete he —" "Dear Mrs. llamlin, don't! The ir.nit ter is not discussable in the concrete." "Fancy Maisie proposing!" said one of the girls. "You don't, know what 1 am capable of," returned Maisie. "I'll dare you, Maisie!" Mrs. llamlin twinkled, "£2O on, and I'll give you a month." "Twenty pounds!" repeated Maisie, and there was an odd-sound in her voice. "Twenty pounds." "Done!" she said, to the astonishment of the room. "It's n bet!" Everyone sat up and bristled with delighted curi osity. Maisie, of all people, who in variably treated her swains with a good-tempered scorn that was the envy of her friends. "1 will do it now!" she went on, ex citedly. "Mabel, give me those tele gram forms. Of course, 1 won't under take to carry out t he contract if anyone accepts," she added. "No, no; but a bona-fide proposal!" She then sat down and addressed seven telegrams and dispatched thc.ni by the maid. "Reply paid," she said. "And now we'll have tea!" "What have you done?" questioned Mr. Hamlin. "I have asked seven men to muirry me!" "Maisie!" "Well, seven gentlemen will hardly be able to think that I am pining for them all; and they'll exchange notes." "Men never do that." "Ah, what men never do, that surely man always does," she laughed. "Hon or with them is a collective virtue that has no application in the singular. You shall read the answers." In due course of time the answers came. One by one the girl opened them before her expectant friends, who re fused to go till all had come. "Regrets," quoted Maisie, holding up one with mock gravity. "Next, please. Ah! thank you, Susan! 'Sorry, previous engagement' 'Alas! impossible!* 'Circumstances over which 1 have no control!' —'I would if 1 could, but I can't!' 'No!' —That's rather impolite, and he really—well, one mustn't be kissed and tell. 'Twas so long ago, too You see, ladies, how devoted my lovers all are; but I luave won my bet. Ah! here is another one more polite re fusal. No! 'Of course lam honored,' ** she read. A crimson flush of shame spread over the girl's laughing face. "That's chivalrous of him," she said, trying to hide her embarrassment. "And now to invent a polite refusal to my own proposal." Horace Sands y-'hs in chambers when Miss Maisie's telegram—reply paid arrived. He was smoking a cigarette With Max Welbv. They generally smoked together after Minch, in a kind of sympathetic silence. Tie read it slowly, and then said unrecordable words. After which, for him, unusual ejaculations, he went out. of the room. On returning his friend noticed an ex pression of most pptlielic woe .upon his placid features, and such a nang-dog look" that he refrained from putting any questions from fear of intruding on private matters. Horace, however, after some fidgeting, said: "You know, after all, it's a clrendful tiling, but what could a fellow do? She's a charming girl, of course—but I didn't think of exactly —in fact, I am not a marrying I man. you know—t never thought of marrying:—don't know anything about it." "If you'll explain what you are talk ing about. I may be able to understand." "Well, the fined is. Miss Maisiie wired and asked me—c|pn*t you know; and 1, of course—" "Asked you what?" "Well, I suppose I oughtn't to say," he said, suddenly flushing crimson. "Did she propose to you?" asked \Yel by, with an incredulous look of amuse ment. "Answer paid, too. The. devil she did! And you have accepted?" "What else would you have me do?" returned Sands, stolidly. For the next few days Horace Sands experienced a general sense of bewilder ing depression. lie was an engaged man —to a very lovely girl, it was true, but nevertheless he was engaged, tied up, as it were—somebody's property. lie must buy presents and rings, and think of furniture. Never in his life had he thought about furniture. Even at col lege he had not, as many of the men d id, troubled how his diggings were ar ranged. He passed a man in the street carrying a kitchen safe, lie tried to think what a safe was meant for, and realized t hat they would certainly have lo have a safe. Some perambulators in a great shop caught his eye, and he blushed and looked obstinately on the other side of tlie road. He had post poned calling—he had not dared yet. lie would never summon courage to be have as a lover should to such a won dei ful piece of femininity. He remem bered now t.lnt her eyes were gray, and serious, and laughing all at once; that, •lie had a delightful, petulant mouth, i The thought of her was sweet. The J reality at present was terrifying. He , could not yet face li.is betrothed, lie must have time to get used to himself i under these new conditions. Another I day passed. On the fourth lie d erased himself in a frock coat, adorned his but tonhole with a bouquet, and started for ' her house. When he arrived as far a-; the street in which she lived he turned J round and went to the club. There ; there was a note from her —three days | old. Again lie flushed and thrust it j into his pocket. lie went out. and in the busy traffic of the streets read his first love letter from Maisie. "Dear Mr. , Sands: How Chivalrous and nice of you! It was a bet, you know." He did not read any more, but strode home- j wards. He had been a pretty kind of I fool, anyhow—a vain ass, too. As if a i beautiful girl like that—then lie began to laugh. At any rate lie was free again —free!—but somehow lie wasn't quite sure that he wanted lo be so very free. The furniture had begun to interest hi m. Tliey met the next evening at Lady Vauglian's. She received liini with f very bright smile, and they danced. They danced several times, and then he said at (he end: "1 suppose you couldn't care for me, could you?" And she col ored all over, and said: "0, no, I couldn't, not anyhow in the world!" Fate threw them together. They con stantly met. She tried to avoid him. j but he would not let her, and she ceased j :t last to try. At the end of three j months he again asked her to be his j wife. The tears crept into her eyes ' ilien, and she said: "You are very kind and chivalrous, and I am very grateful. ■ but I can't, indeed 1 can't!" So that lie i went away conscious that there was a j barrier between tliein lie could not breakdown. He went abroad with \Yel by, and proved a preposterously duiJ : companion. "She will never have me!" lie said one day, irrelevantly. "1 believe it's all lie cause of that confounded telegram!" j "Most likely." "What shall I do?" "Forget her." "That's what I have been trying to - ' [g||| jJugj 14JL I I :;H. V/vY' THEY DANCED SEVERAL TIMES, do, but she's crept somehow into my heart, and I can't." "Wire, then!" "What?" "What she wired to you." Maisie was sitting with Mrs. Hamlin, and her pretty face was even paler than on the memorable occasion of the send ing of the telegrams. "All!" she said, "it is a pity. J care for him so much— so much—and it could never be now! Could it?" "It's rather difficult," said Mrs. Ham lin. "How mad of us all to have let you do it! We didn't realize till the things were gone. Your spirits carried us away, lie's abroad, isn't he?" "Yes, and I can't bear it, but 1 must; that's life, isn't it?" she said, with a little sad smile. "We all manage to bear what we can't." And then a telegram came, reply paid. "What- is it?" said Mrs. Hamlin. "lie has wired. Look!" "And what are you going to say ?" The girl sat down upon her heels, upon the floor, and looked first, into the fjro and 1 Hen at. Mrs. Hamlin. "I think I ought to he polite, don't you?" she said. "He was to me." "Yes," said Mrs. Hamlin, "I thiivkyoti should he polite!" And Miss Maisie was* —Westminster Budget. MISS PHOEBE COUSINS. Few Careera Have Boon Mora Ro mantic Than Hers. Hlie Wis the I'lrxl Women Lawyer in the t nlted States— I Thinks Now That iler Life I3ux Been a Vast Mintake. Phoebe Cousins, the first woman law yer of America, the first woman to be come a United States marshal, and for many years known over the length and breadth of the country us an ardent, uncompromising public advocate of v omau's rights, is now seriously ill at St. l/ouis. Disease has laid low the woman whose stalwart will carried her through a successful career in the face of opposition and obstacles of every sort. Few careers have been more romantic, i says the New York Herald. A beautiful i girl she was besieged with admirers, | and might have made many brilliant I marriages. At one time a vice presi dent of the United State's and two United States senators sought her hand. Hut she disdained all offers. She had her mission to fulfill, and inexorably puisucd it until misfortune and illness finally showed her the fallacy of I her course. For Phoebe Cousins now believes that she has been mistaken all her life, and that the true aim of womankind is not civil equulity with man, but home and motherhood. Her parents were originally from the east. Iler father was among the most ; prominent unionists of St. Louis, re ceived tlie appointment of chief of po lice and provost marshal of the city I during the war. Her motlie.r was the : I.cad of the St. Louis branch of the san j itary commission and had charge of the j city hospitals. As a girl Phoebe Cousins was as bril- I Hunt as she was beautiful. She very ; early showed her disinclination, oi | rather her contempt, for social life, j For several years she was the belle ol ! St. Louis. Hut none of her admirers | could make headway with her. It was ; her favorite theme that women had a higher mission in life than marriage. When it was known that Plioebe Cousins had entered the law depart ment of Washington -university there was no surprise. St. had become [ (*• < J \ \ y pi M I MISS PHOEBE COUSINS. | fully acquainted with lier bent. Her friends knew that her years of treigu- I ing bellehood had been from her point i of view most unprofitable, and that | from them she had derived but ir.ud- I erate pleasure. j Her beauty had won many admirers I and suitors quite as many, but so plain i ly did she show her preference for men I of years and wisdom that one 1 y one i they left her side. Miss Phoebe ert!veiu::.s, : tempered by good breeding. I She secured entrance into the law de- I partinent with some difficulty, was i graduated from it with honor, and then began the career which, so far as human | insight goes, is nearly at an end. She ; made a few strong woman suffrage ! speeches—one at a Presbyterian Sun- I day school convention in Jefferson City, I where she startled her staid audience by ; asserting that "Paul's words to women amounted to nothing, for Paul was sim ply a crusty old bachelor, with no au thority to lay commands upon woman ; kind," and anot her at the banquet of the Mercantile Library association, where : she was toasted as "our own Phoebe ; Cousins." Then she spread her ambitious wings and flew i way to Washington. There she was entertained by prom inent futni]ies and lectured before vari ous audiences on t.lie cause she had es poused. She became a protege of Susan lb Anthony, and the little circle of agitators hoped much from this promising addition to their number. She lias not walked for a year. Time and cure have deeply seamed her face and robbed her cheeks of tlicir color. Iler hands are gnarled anil her limbs drawn almost out of human semblance. There are streaks of gray in her black hair. Her eyes retain a little of their old fire. She is still a close student of affairs as mirrored forth in newspapers. The disease which fetters her is ar ticulate rheumatism. Cremation nnil Burial. The Sanitary Burial association of London is trying to introduce a system of cremation and burial combined. Chemicals are placed in tlie lining of a casket which rapidly cause a body to return to its constituent elemental In case of poisoning the poison would be turned into an ins>olnllje : j) fed ipi t a to. which would be'd'ereetetf l6ng after in terment. BLOOD POISONING. GIVEN UP TO DIE! Remarkable Recovery of Mrs, Thomas Stockton, of LAFAYETTE, PA. Mrs. Thomas Stockton, of Lafayotto. McKcan Co., l*a.. relates the following remarkable recovery: •When lirst taken ill, Dr. Ward, of Mt. Alton, said that I had dropsy of the bowels; I kept grow ing worse and he advised me to go to the Bradford Hospital, where he operated upon me. 1 had been out of the hospi tal but a short while, when blood poison ing sot in. A physician from Mt. .lewett attended me for three weeks and then said he could do no more for me and gave me up to die. My husband then took mo to Dr. Freeman, at, Smethport who wanted to operate upon me, but as I had already gone through one awful experience of that kind. 1 refused to again. After arriving back home, I made up my mind to try OR. DM KENNEDY'S is I had heard of itdoiug others so much good, so my husband went to Thompson . Wood's Drug Store, in Bradford, and purchased a bottle and it certainly was , a God-send to me. From the very lirst it seemed to help me. the pain 1 had en dured constantly began to leave me. m\ appetite improved, and before long ! was around the house doing considerable ! work. In short, hud it not been for Dr. | David Kennedy's Favorite Uomedy I believe I should have been in my grave today. I hope every one suffering from disease, especially women, will try this valuable medicine. I know of many here ! who are using Favorite Remedy since ii | helped me so much, and in every case it i has proved its great value." ft*. aY '"A AT* * * •~ r yT ***!,♦* *" .* T 'V | Wheels, | STYLES: £ | Ladies', Gcctfemen's & Tandem. £ 1 ? The Lightest Running Wlioels on Earth, j | THE ELDREDGE p I ....AND.... I 3 THE BELVIDERE. | Wo always Marie Good Sowing Machines! j? Why Shouldn't wo Make Good Wheels! $ | National Sewing Mac-line Co., % , 339 Broadway, Factory: > New York. Celvldere. Ills. L? ! (& fa j Peirce j | School I i | 3'4 ml Year. 1 n O j H | ness School for both sexes, founded C 3 l " | by THOMAS MAY Peikck, A. At., I * I'll. D. Couples systematic Imsl- O < „ 1 ursa tratiling with a practical, Cj j a [ sound and useful English eduea- Q i * tion. It. oilers three full courses:— Q i * i Business, Shorthand and Type- K I 1 „ 1 writing, English; thy whole con- C# J | stituling an ideal combination. O I' Graduates are cheerfully assisted W i ' to positions. 1 u 1 Both Day and Night Sessions are €3 ]m | now running. Students received U I * at any time. M 1 „ Mi'i'i.nl liiiil