It will cost the natives of the Indian
frontier $15,000,000 this year to be
suppressed by the British.
King Leopold of Belgium offers a
prize of SSOOO for the best military
history of Belgium from the Roman
invasion to the present day. It may
be written in English, French, Ger
man, Italian, Spanish or Flemish, and
manuscripts must reach Belgium be
fore January 7, 1001.
When a young Philadelphia woman,
moved by a spirit of bravado, recently
entered a street car and calmly pro
ceeded to light a cigarette, even the
unusual lethargy of the people of that
quiet city was aroused, those of them
who were in the car promptly taking
hold of and ejecting her.
Bishop Fallows prefaced a recent
sermon in Chicago by some remarks
on "Why There Has Been So Much
Lawlessness and Crime in Chicago.'*
He announced himself a believer in
curfew and flogging. Said he: "Rob
beries accompanied with violence have
been so numerous that we may need
the methods of Mr. Justice Day in
Liverpool, England. For deeds of
personal violence there the lash was un
sparingly used, accompanied with long
terms of imprisonment for the habitual
criminal. This broke up the gangs
which hud so long infested that city.
Corporal punishment in such cases, in
stead of brutalizing, became a potent
agency in reformation.
The life of a locomotive is not as
long as generally supposed. Investi
gations in this direction recently made
in Germany show that the average loco
motive has to be withdrawn from ser
vice after traveling about 500,000
miles. This does not include the time
the locomotive is under her own steam
without pulling a train. During the
period a locomotive is in service a
number of parts have to be repaired
r renewed. For instance, the boiler
and the firebox have to be renewed
three times, the tires of the wheels
five or six times, the driving cranks
from three to five times. After a half
million of miles of active service the
average locomotive is no more worth
repairing aud is entirely withdrawn.
A feature of modern murders, noted
by the Argonaut, is the callous indif
ference of the criminals when con
fronted with the evidence of guilt. It
is prominent ifi both the Nack case in
New York and the Lentgert case in
Chicago, was remarked in the memor
able case of Holmes, executed in Phil*
adelpliia last year, and was the wonder
of San Franciscans during the trial of
Durrant for the atrocious murder of
two girls. The old superstitions—
such as that the corpse would bleed
afresh at the murderer's approach—no
longer terrify tho would-be criminal,
the old faiths have lost their hold on
tho mass of tho people, and the new
morality has not yet come to take their
place as a bulwark against the lust of
gold and pleasure.
The Chinese have subjugated Thibet.
A French missionary stationed at Ba
tang, on the River Di-chu, in the
northwest of the Province of Szu
chuan, on the borders of Thibet, writes
that the Chinese have suppressed the
revolt of the Lamaists, subjugated
Thibet and organized a government
with Chinese administrators. Thibet
has for some time been divided be
tween Independent and Chinese
Thibet, and it would seem that the
Chinese have now decided to subju
gate the whole country, especially that
which forms the northern frontier of
India from Burmah to Cashmire, and
which is separated from India by the
almost impassable barrier of the gi
gantic ranges of the Himalayas. The
movement is probably backed by Rus
sia.
It is significant of a change in the
way of which woman is regarded in
this country, declares the San Fran
tiaco Argonaut, that the daughter of a
politician of note should have been
sonsidered by her parents too young
to marry at twenty, they thinking that
two or three years later would have
teen quite soon enough for her to as
lume the responsibilities of matri
mony. A generation ago, twenty was
regarded quite a mature age for a
bride, and any parent who opposed
the marriage of a girl of that age on
the score of undue youth would havo
been regarded as most peculiar. This
is one of the many matters in which
the equality of the sexes is slowly de
reloping. Young men of twenty and
twenty-two are spoken of aB boys, and
their undignified prankß excused on
the score of their extreme youth. The
farther away the race gets from the
barem idea, i. e. the purely physical
Idea of woman, the less artificial dis
parity as toyoungness and oldness will
there be between the sexes.
Let us rest ourselves a bit.
Worry? wave your baud to it-
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It farewell a little while.
Weary of the weary way
We have couie since yesterday,
L't us fret us not, in dread
Of the weary way ahead.
While we vet look down—not up—
To seek out the buttercup
And the daisy, where they wave
O'er the green home of the grave.
Let us launch us smoothly on
Listless billows of the lawn.
And drift out across the main
Of our childish dreams again.
HARVEY'S ROMANCE. K
$
) T was during his fresh-
VST man year at Harvard that
o 0- * I first became acquainted
o with Harvey. He had
come to college from a
? my thriving Western town,
f d where his father was a
V J banker and leading citi
zen. Harvey was a remarkable fellow
in many ways. In the first place he
was one of the handsomest fellows I
have ever known. He was possessed
of rare talents, and bore upon his face
the unmistakable stamp of good breed
ing.
And yet, when I first knew Harvey,
he was a freshman in every sense of
the word. You could hardly call him
green; he had seen quite a bit of the
world and society, too, for all that,
but it was of such as a boy sees under
the chaperonage of a fond and indul
gent mother. His experiences, while
(ffl&te varied in their nature, were of a
tame variety, so you will not deem it
strange that when he arrived at Har
vard, with an allowance of S3OO per
month and no chaperons but sophs and
seniors, a new world was opened to
him.
Like all freshmen of this type, Har
vey fell in with a fast set, joined a
swell fraternity and went straight to
the bad. And what a winding and
mellifluous path his Satanic Majesty
has provided for the college devotees.
Of [course Harvey's apartments were
the best in the city. His dog had
whipped everything that had been pit
ted against him, and his wine suppers
to the fast set of which he was a part
were the talk and envy of every cheap
Cliolly man in the college.
Long before the end of the first term
Harvey was an acknowledged king of
the bloods. He was a greatly changed
lad; all that simple charm and frank
ness that had marked him when he
gone. His manner, talk
and dress had all changed, and now
conformed strictly to the ideas of the
set of which he had become a part. At
the junior hop occurred a little inci
dent which was to mark an epoch in
the affairs and life of the freshman,
and, in fact, to give birth to this story.
The junior hop is the social event of
the year at Harvard, and at all great
American colleges for all that. This
ts the high tide of the year when the
freshman sends home for his best girl
to show her something of college life,
and to show her how important he lias
become in one term. A few months
before a beautiful young lady, the
daughter of one of the Back Bay mil
lionaires, had made her delmt in Bos
ton society. Bessie Hill was so re
fined and so charming that it was but
a short time before all of the young
men, both in Boston and in Cambridge,
were wild about her. She was a model
of beauty, but to stop here and say no
more would be doing her great injus
tice, for she was not only a queen of
beauty, but possessed of all the other
qualities necessary to make her a type
of perfect womanhood. Of course,
she would be at the hop, and every
fellow who had not already met her
had set his heart upon an introduc
tion. Every swell fraternity in the
college attended in a body, and every
big fraternity man individually did all
in his power to bring Bessie Hill to
his booth and make her a part of his
Greek letter circle. Harvey looked
that night as I had never seen him
look before. With the efforts of na
ture and the tailor combined he was
by far the handsomest man in the ball
room. He was introduced to Bessie
Hill; it was Greek meet Greek. They
exchanged glances; Harvey bowed
low; she extended her hand, while the
polite audience of students, mammas
and sisters held their breath in as
tonishment. Never befoie had Bessie
Hill extended her hand to any new ac
quaintance. She had been with Har
vey but a short time when the cold
and steel-like glitter left her eyes and
her cheeks were suffused with the rose
of nature's rarest red.
They danced together. Harvey was
a perfect Terpsichorean. They glided
oft' to the conservatory. Harvey's
heart beat faster than usnal and his
bosom swelled with pride. But surely
he had good reason to feel proud, for
he had by Lis side the most admired
woman of all Boston. The freshman
had won the greatest of all social tri
, umphs. It cost him a wine supper at
Harvard and no little notoriety in
Boston. Their meeting at the ball
had caused quite a sensation. The
daily papers reviewed his life andfam
-1 ily history, and Bessie Hill was con
vinced that she had made no mistake.
But Harvey was a beginner. He could
| not understand that a social triumph
and a love affair were one and the
I same thing, and that at best should
last only so long as people talk about
them. Like a foolish freshman that
he was, he allowed his head to be
turned. He underwent a change. The
wine at the midnight revelries grew
insipid; the songs, however spicy, lost
their charm. There would come steal
ing into his mind now and then a fancy
that he flhor'''stud". But who ever,
Voyage off, beneath the trees,
O'er the field's enchanted seas,
Where the lilies are our sails.
And our soagulls, nightingales.
Where no wilder storm shall beat
Than the wind tjpat waves the wheat,
And no tempestl burst above
The old laughs I Je used to love.
Lose nil troubles—gain release,
Languor and exceeding peace,
Oruisiug idly o'er the vast
Calm mid-ocean of the past.
Let us rest ourselves a bit.
'Worry? wave your hand to it—
Kiss your finger-tips and smile
It farewell a little while.
—James Whiteomb Riley.
heard of Greek and love uniting in the
same character.
"Philosophy be blowed," ho used
to say. "I will win the girl I love; I
will be a man of business; let other
I freshmen wreck their bodies, sell their
j eyes and lose their souls trying for a
degree. 1 will marry the woman I
love."
Harvey spent the major r portion of
his time in Bessie's company. They
read together, compared notes and
spent their time as all lovers do in
that delicious pleasure of doing noth
ing.
Harvey came home one night on a
car from Boston. He rushed violently
into my room; his face was flushed; ho
was somewhat wrought up; I thought
he had been drinking. "Congratulate
me, old fellow," he exclaimed, "Iliave
won her, but keep it still. The wed
ding is to be in June; I know father
will consent. We'll have the affair in
Boston, so all the fellows can bo there.
We'll go to Europe for the summer,
and I will go into business with father
when we return. I came to Harvard
to scale Parnassus, hut find myself
worshiping at the shrine of Diana."
As it nearcd the first of June Harvey
was almost constantly in Boston. He
and his bride to be were ever together.
The fellows all wondered what the
freshman was going to do when exam
ination day came round. Harvey,
however, was preparing a surprise for
them, but. alas, for the poor old chap,
there was in store for him the greatest
of all surprises. Ho came into my
room one night; I shall never forget
the look upon his face. I have seen
men die in the throes of mortal agony,
but pain was never pictured more
vividly on any face than it was upon
that of poor Harvey that night.
He held in his trembling hand a
telegram; I knew some terrible calam
ity had happened. His father—his old
and respected father—was a bankrupt
and a defaulter. It is too painful even
at this time to go into details of that
sad night.
llow all the fellows looked and act
ed. None could say a word. Harvey,
poor Harvey, cried like a child. And
when I saw him who yesterday was
the man of all men to be envied; when
1 thought of his broken home—the
stigma of disgrace the world would
put upon his name; of bow, perhaps,
the prison cell yawned for his father;
and when, above all, I guessed the
tiling that galled him more than all
else, his love affair, I cried myself.
The news was spread broadcast
throughout the country by the morn
ing papers. "Big-headed Harvey,
Railroad Manipulator, a Bankrupt."
Harvey's heart was broken; his spirit
was crushed.
Hastily penning a few lines to Bes
sie, in which he referred to the sud
den downfall of his family, of his dis
grace; tlieir present difference in posi
tion, life, etc., he gathered his belong
ings together and in half an hour was :
off on a midnight train for New York.
He would not stay over a day. He
said on leaving: "Fellows, I want you
to remember me as Harvey and not as
a beggar."
Ho would not and could not go home.
Ho would only be useless to his par
ents in their hour of woe. He could
not dare to go back to town a beggar
where he had once been a prince.
Harvey shipped out of New York
on a steamship bound for San Fran
cisco. She was to tnko the place of a
liner that had gone down off the coast
of Lower California. After a vain ef
fort to find something worth doing in
the city of the Golden Gate, he
shipped out of 'Frisco as a common
deck hand on the fast boat for Japan.
After a few months of knockabout life
iu Yokohama aud Tokio he fell in with
a party of pearl fishers and was faring
well until a heavy sea tossed them all
upon the rocks of Australia. He next
tried sheep herding away back in the
hills, where he lived for months with
no company but his dog and the sheep.
He was stricken down with a deadly
fever while one of a party of adven
turers who were searching for a quick
fortune in the diamond mines of South
Africa. Three months later, more
dead than alive, he found his way to
Johannesburg. He here fell iu with
an English captain and made his way
to London and then to Liverpool, and
after four years of adventure, trial and
sickness he landed once more in New
York.
Harvey was a changed man
changed this time in earnest. He had
learned a most valuable lesson, one
worth going all the way to Africa to
learn, ray hoy. He had learned to
know the value of a dollar.
Being a persevering fellow, he de
sired to raise himself to a better posi
tion in society. Knowing that an edu
cation was necessary, he looked for a
school where his limited means would
hold out for the longest time, aud in
a few weeks after we find him enrolled
as a student of law in that greatest of
all Western colleges at Ann Arbor.
North of University Hall to-dav still
stands a building that, had it tumbled
down twenty years ago, would still
have been old. This building is owned
by some church corporation which
.furnishes students with rooms in the
old shack at miserably low rates.
But more miserable than all else are
the rooms; these are devoid of furni
ture, save a rickety old table, a chair
and a rusty stove with a crazy pipe,
some dry goods boxes and a broken
looking glass. The decorations were
the work of spiders and flies of genera
tions gone. The windows, for the
most part, were minus glass and stuffed
up with copy books and old paper.
Here Harvey was located. Just across
the way was the local chapter of his
fraternity. Little did his wealthy
brothers think that the "Tramp Law,"
as they called him, possessed their
most sacred of secrets, knew their grip,
had memorized their ritual and was
indeed a brother in good standing.
It was the night of the junior hop.
Across the campus the gay young dan
cers assembled from all parts of the
country were whirling enmeshed in the
mazes of the waltz.
It was just midnight; Harvey had
put in a hard night over a still harder
lesson in common law pleading. He
crossed the floor to the window. The
dingy old building shook in the wind
that moaned bitterly out of doors. He
brushed aside the frost from the pane
and looked in silent meditation toward
the scene of gayety and grandeur. He
reflected on his own position; thought
of n time when he was a part of a simi
lar gay assemblage, and how now he
was poor and more miserable than the
coachmen that were knocking their
heels together without.
He sat down before his dim fire, and
thoughts of another junior hop came
to him. He was back again in the
good old days; Bessie was by his side;
he saw her tender eyes looking into
his; she seemed just as she did that
night in the conservatory when, for
the first time in his life, ho felt the
warm and gentle pressure of the hand
of the woman he loved. His heart
beat lively and his body thrilled
through and through.
"Strange it is," he said to himself,
"that a beggar dares love." As the
blaze dimmed and the coals blackened
he thought of his career, of his wealth,
his life, his adventure and, last of all,
his poverty. "Such is life," he said
to himself. "Why not write a story
about it all? It seems more romantio
than real anyway. People would read
it and be interested in the characters
they can never know, and besides, I
need a pair of shoes and a new coat
badly."
A few weeks later in a Sunday pa
per there appeared a most interesting
college romance about the junior hop
in Ann Arbor.
A pale and sickly newsboy was vain
ly trying to sell his wares in a crowd
ed pallor car. Travelers fatigued
with a long and hard journey, and
chilled with the cold even in the car,
were not interested in the paper, and
only one was affected by the pnle look
upon the face of the poor and thinly
clad boy.
This was a very handsome young
lady; she was tired with her journey
and seemed weary of the world. She
purchased all the papers because she
pitied the boy. She looked them over;
her eye chanced upon a college echo.
She read the story, for she used to
know collego girls and fellows, too,
for all that.
The story finished, the paper at
her feet, this very handsome young
lady unconsciously lent a charm to
her beauty by the tear in her soft blue
eyes.
The next day shortly before noon
there was a light step upon the dingy
old staircase that led to Harvey's
room, and there was a light rap at the
door. Harvey, thinking it was his
washwoman, called out, "Come in, but
I have no washing for you to-day."
The visitor came in, and Harvey looked
up; he almost fainted, for before him
he saw his sweetheart of other days,
Bessie Hill.
I have just received n letter from
Harvey to-dny in which he says: "In
this mail you will receive a printed in
vitation, &c. Well, old man, the af
fair's to bo in Boston, so as all the fel
lows can be there, and it is a special
request of Bessie's that you be the
best man."—Cincinnati Commercial-
Tribune.
Cost a.'ioeo to Got Down Stairs.
It cost Columbus B. Cummings, of
Chicago, 83000 to get down stairs from
the bedroom in his residence to the
dining room. He made the trip on an
elevator which he put into his home
at the cost mentioned. The "lift" is
of bronze, beautiful in design, and the
best and safest manufactured in Chi
cago.
The capitalist, banker and street
railway magnate lias not left his bed
room since January. He is ill with a
disease that may be arrested, but can
not be cured. His malady is dropßy.
He is a restless patient. He insists
on receiving friends when their pres
ence is forbidden by the doctor and
the nurse. He wants to give such at
tention to his large and varied busi
ness interests as is possible to give in
the sick room, and he particularly de
sires to get down to the parlor floor of
his dwelling house. So ho had the
elevator built.
Artcaian Water in Sahara.
One of the most important results
of the Egyptian expedition up the
Nile has been the discovery that by
sinking deep wells water may be
found in the desert in many places
where its presence had not been sus
pected. Not only will this give a se
cure basis for military operations, but
it is possible that water may bo found
in sufficient quantities to servo for ir
rigation, in which case the Sahara may
be turned into a flower garden. Its
avidity comes from no material steril
ity of the soil, but simply from th#
look of moisture.
Thread for Iluttonhole*.
Do not work buttonholes with too
coarse a thread, says the American
Queen. D twist for silk and woolen
goods and 15, 50 or 60 thread for cot
ton materials are of the correct thick
ness.
New* For the Stout Woman.
The stout woman will be pleased to
hear that the serviceable and always
graceful cashmere is to be la mode this
season, and that she may do away with
the torturing high choker and wear
her gowns cut round or slightly square
in the neck.—New York Times.
A Quern'* Simple Ta*te.
The Queen of Spain is said to be
most simple and domestic in her tastes.
She and her daughters are admirable
needlewomen, and embroider and make
lace beautifully, the little King play
ing beside them while they work. The
Queen teaches her children German
herself. She has but one vice (if vice
it be)-—she smokes, and the little
King delights in making cigarettes for
her.
A New Cornet.
The new shape of corset, which
fashionable dressmakers announce as
tho sine quanon of the season's fitting,
is made with the back very narrow,
the hips very full and the bust without
a definite shape. The corset scarcely
touches the body except at the waist
line. The upper edge just reaches to
the edge of tho bust, but holds it
firmly in place by means of the corset
line and the upper clasp. Tho hips
and under arm pieces are very full,
and the whole effect of the corset is to
make the wnist look smaller. It is be
coming to slender women, but the re
verse to stout ones.
The Fnalilonuhle Colors.
Soft beautiful tints in reseda or mig
nonette green, in rossignol or night
ingale, marmotte, a pretty ashes-of
roses shade, in doe color and reindeer,
arc among the fashionable colors in
fabrics for tailor gowns in ladies' cloth,
camel's hair goods, Fionas, silk and
wool reps, and costume cloths. A few
dyes are in metallic tones, but the
greater number have a suggestion of
mellow autumn sunshine in the woof.
Still others are brilliunt with a glow
of beautifully interwoven Persian col
or-mixtures—small Oriental patterns
figuring prominently among some of
the handsomest "faconue" woolens of
the fall season.
A Joan Ingelow Story.
A quaintly amusing story is told of
the late Jean Ingelow by one who
knew her well. Once, when she was
staying with some friends in the coun
try, it transpired that, although she
often wrote delightfully of nightingales,
she had never heard one sing. So one
night the whole household went out
in the moonlight especially to hear
them, and, after, by an effort, holding
their tongues for five minutes, while
the nightingales sang divinely, they
were startled by Miss Ingelow re
marking: "Are they singing? I don't
hear anything." Svitli a Londoner's
dread of draughts, the poetess, before
going out in the night air, had filled
her ears with cotton wool.
Rainbow Ribbon*.
There are going to lie ribbons this
winter to an extent that hasn't pre
vailed for many seasons. Some dresses
already shown by exclusive makers
puggest that Dame Fashion has us on
a string, that string being some new
and dainty sort of ribbon of which
the manufacturers have put out a
liberal supply. Indeed, there are so
many of these fascinating bands that
selection is not an easy task, but when
the one that seems just right is chosen
the job is only just begun. For then
comes study of the method of using it.
Of course, it is more methodical to
have tho plan definitely settled before
purchase is made, but these new rib
bons are so alluring, so suggestive of
new methods of adornment, that the
best-laid plans are likely to go awry
in favor of some later thought.
A Itoyai Wardrobe.
"Marie-Antoinette as Dauphine" is
the title of an article in the Century, by
Miss Anna L. Bicknell, who says:J
The Dauphine was allowed a sum of
120,000 livres for her dress alone; but
she never interfered in any way, and
everything was decided without con
sulting her, by the dame d'atour, who
ordered what was neoessary according
to her own appreciation, and settled
the bills of the tradesmen. At the
end of the year Bhe presented incom
prehensible accounts, whioh the Dau
phine was required to approve, with
the result that her expenses greatly
j exceeded the allotted sum, through no
j fault of hers. Mercy was called to
the rescue, and discovered the most
absurd extravagance. For instance,
; Ihree ells of ribbon, to tie the pow
dering gown of the Dauphine, were
put down daily; also several ells of
■ilk (daily!) to cover the basket in
khich her gloves and fan were depos
ited, with many other items of the
same kind, noted by Merey in solemn
reprobation. With all this waste, the
arrangements about her were strangely
deficient in comfort.
Fashion Note*.
I Flissed materials are in hitch votrue.
The newest Russian blouse has the
frill worn below the belt, only a little
full and slashed in tabs.
Cloth blouses on outdoor suits are
made to turn back in front, revealing
a facing of velvet and guy satin or
cloth-braided vest.
Some of the fashionable shades in
dress goods are green, red, purple,
bright and navy blue, all shades of
brown, tan and black.
A silk lining is now made which
serves as a lining and a stiffening at
the same time, so that it can be used
without any other lining.
The mess jacket is new and jaunty,
opening over a close-fitting vest, and
showing a row of small gilt or steel
buttons down either edge or one only.
Black and white shepherd's plaid,
very light and fine, is a favorite ma
terial for bicycle costumes. Another
popular stuff is mauve-colored cloth
decorated with fancy braids.
Some very striking colors in pre
late, royal, and orchid purple appear
both in superb satins and brocades,
immense faille and sntin plaids, fig
ured moires, plain and fancy wools,
and in fall and winter millinery.
Almost every color imaginable is to
be seen in liberty satiu for snshes, col
lars and belts. Handsome gowns for
elderly ladies are of soft gray liberty
satin, with gray or black velvet acces
sories and ruffiings of lace at neck and
wrists.
A stylish hat is made of basket braid.
The edge is trimmed with a very close
ly shirred edging of lace or silk mus
lin. Above this is a row of fancy
braid. Around the orown is a a scarf
of soft silk, and wired bows are set up
at one side of the back.
Among the new delicate shades in
nun's veiling are those known as van
illa, nerva (a pretty green), new but
ter and spahis—blue, best made over
a lining of ivory—colored silk; and
beige over ruby, petunia or cabbage
green, silver gray over blue.
There is a threatened revival of
early Victorian fashions—doubtless a
result of the English Queen's Jubilee
—but the styles are trying to all but
the very beautiful; and poke bonnets,
wolf-like coiffures and pther monstros
ities will scarcely beoome the rage.
The slashed models, giving tho ef
fect of a long square apron front, reach
quite to tho bottom of the second
skirt, and on tailor costumes of cloth,
mohair, tweed, cheviot, etc., the
slashed edges are decorated with silk
gimps put on in various fanciful de
signs.
Odd arrangements of frilling, lace,
net, fur, braid, velvet, fringes, etc.,
are very much used on bodices, red
ingotes, and princesse dresses fast
ened at the left side; and a very
dressy appearance is imparted to oth
erwise simjile gowns by tho children
of these trimmings.
Fancy fabrics are less trimmed than
plain ones, and really rich goods may
be worn without a suggestion of garni
ture. The plainest finish that one can
have is a wide fold of velvet cut on the
bins. This is blind-stitched on, and
while it is only a revival of an old
time style it is, to all intents and pur
poses, a new style of finish.
A simple but effective costume for
seashore wear is a canvas made over
yellow taffeta. The skirt, quite plain,
hangs separate from the lining. The
waist, on the plan of a short Russian
blouse, is very "blousy" indeed, aud
is braided with bands of inch-wide
white satin ribbon. It is open at the
throat, with turned-back narrow revers
faced with yellow taffeta, and shows a
glimpse of a yellow taffeta skirt.
A simple gown is of white organdy,
with a ruffle edged with black lace
about the hem. Lines of lace inser
tion are let into the seams and ruffled
with narrow lace. The bodice is a
blouse, with vertical lines entredeux
and lace below a square yoke of cream
guipure. The guipure makes the
choker, which is shaped to turn over
on the upper edge, and is trimird
behind with a large cerise bow. The
belt is of cerise, with a butterfly bow
behind.
When Death it Moit Buiy.
Quite a prevalent opinion has it that
the largest proportion of deaths oocur
in the early hours of morning, while
dwellers by the sea are rather generally
credited with the belief that the "great
majority" called through, "go out
with the tide." It has, however, been
stated that from time to time careful
observations have been made in hos
pitals which have resulted in showing
that deaths take place with fairly
equal frequency during the whole
twenty-four hours of the day. Very
lately an inquiry was made in Paris
which showed that death was just a
little less busy between 7 and 11 o'clock
in the evening, but that, with this ex
ception, the proportion was about
evon.
Molasses for Hones.
In Germany and Austria molasses
has reoently been tried as food for
horses, being substituted in part for
corn and oats. When mixed in prop
er ratio with other food it is said to
be well liked by the horses and to
give them a sleek appearance.—
Youth's Companion.
ODD FREAKS OF FORTUNE'S WHEEL.
Unexpected Windfalls of Wealth For Peo
pie Much In Need.
While most people find it very bard
to acquire even a modest competency,
others are more lucky, and to them
fortunes come- without even the ask
ing. Several such instances have oc
curred of late years, some of them of
an interesting character. It was only
a short while since that a poor rag
picker in Birmingham suddenly found
himself a man of wealth. By dint of
working from dawn till late at night
he had been in the habit of making
the not very exorbitant income of
82.50 per week. One morning he
heard from a firm of solicitors in Lon
don, who requested him to call, when
he would learn something to his ad
vantage. He found that a long-lost
brother, who had made money in Aus
tralia, had recently died there, leaving
him a sum of £BOOO.
At Tamworth, England, a tobaccon
ist has unexpectedly found himself
the heir to a baronetcy. For some
time past he has been in receipt of
255. fid. a week, having served as a
sergeant in the Suffolk Regiment; but,
finding this sum inadequate, he took a
tobacconist shop at Tamworth, and
was apparently contented with his lot,
when he awoke to find himself a bar
onet of the United Kingdom.
A schooner which went ashore of!
the American coast with 1200 tons of
coal, being abandoned by her owners,
was sold for S7O. Some 400 tons of
coal had been got out of the hull,
when suddenly the vessel slid off the
rook and sank in deep water, only,
however, to lloat again the next morn
ing and drift with the tide right into
port. It seems that sufficient coal had
rattled through the holes in her bot
tom to let the hull come again to the
surface with some 300 tons of coal still
in. As the vessel then stood she was
worth S3OOO or more to those who
bought it for S7O.
The effects produced by suddenly
acquired wealth are sometimes start
ling in the extreme. A suburban
Parisian, who lately inherited £16,000
from an elderly aunt, at once began to
look about for some outlet for spend
ing the money quickly. At length the
craze for luilding speculation seized
him, and he built houses wherever
sites were obtainable. He went on in
this way for some time, wheu his mind
became unhinged, and he was found
one day walking around his newly
built houses, firing shots from a navy
revolver at imaginary enemies.—Bos
ton Traveller.
Waste the Melon*; Save the Seed*.
In Kearny County (Kan.) thev grow
watermelons not for the sake of the
juicy pulp—but the seeds. Acre after
acre is grown with the good, greeD
fruit, and then the harvest is not eaten;
it is not even shipped to melon-hungry
folk elsewhere. It is thrashed for the
seeds.
Separating the seeds from the mel
ons is an interesting process. It is
done by "thrashing," but not with the
ordinary thrashing machine. A spe
cial machine is built, having a large
hopper, at the bottom of which is a
cylinder armed with stout, sharp
spikes. The cylinder is run at high
speed by means of an ordinary sweep
horse-power, so that they break as they
fall, and in a twinkling the cylinder
teeth have torn them to pieces, releas
ing the seed-bearing pulp. The hop
per discharges into a great cylindrical
screen, set at a slight incline, in which
long arms revolve 011 an axis, stirring
up the mass of rinds and pulp and
seeds, and continually pushing the
seeds aud pulp through the screen in
to n vut as the mass moves from the
hopper down the incline. By the time
the mass reaches the lower end of the
incline it has lost all tho pulp and
seeds and consists only of rinds, which
are thrown with a scoop onto the
waste pile. When the pile of rinds
becomes so large ns to be troublesome
it is not moved, simply becanse it is
so much easier to move the thrashing
machine. When a thrashing machine
runs steadily it is necessnry to move
it at least every third day.
Tho seeds and pulp which come
through the thrashing machine to
gether are stored in great vats or
tanks, water added and the whole left
for two or three days to ferment.
The Canno of Apoplexy.
Apoplexy is due to the breaking of
a blood vessel in the brain, which re
sults in hemorrhage. It may occur at
any age, but is most common in men
who have passed the age of sixty, es
pecially in those who have indulgod
too freely in alcoholic liquors. It
may come on suddenly, or there may
be warning symptoms. Sometimes the
person suffers for several days pre
vious to the attack from headache,
congestion of the face and a sense of
general discomfort. When the attack
does occur the person is struck down
very suddenly and is in a state of in
sensibility, from which it is impossi
ble to arouse him. His breathing is
usually noisy and labored, and [he is
unable to speak, or to recognize those
about him. His condition is very
critical, and he may die in the attack,
but usually the patient recovers, for a
time at least, but he is left more or
less permanently disabled. When the
attack occurs tho perßon should be
placed in a recumbent position, his
collar and cravat should be loosened
and the windows of the room should
be opened wide. Then send for the
nearest physician.
"Hoodoolsm" Among tho Pueblo.,
Major Nordstrom, United States
agent in charge of the Pueblo Indians,
has been investigating the maltreat
ment of an aged squaw by Indians at
the instigation of tho religious order
known as "Priests of the Bow." The
old woman was suspended by the
priests until she confessed that she
had bewitched the nostrums of the
medicine men and prevented them
from effecting oures.