fRHLMD TRIBUNE. ESTABLISHED 183. PUBLISHED EVERY MONDAY, WEDNESDAY AND FRIDAY. BY THE TRIBUNE PRINTING COMPANY, Limited OFFICE; MAIN STREET ABOVE CENTRE, LONG DISTANCE TELEPHONE. SUBSCRIPTION RATES FREELAND.—rheTninuNB is delivered by carriers to subscribers in Freelandatthe rata of 1-H oents per month, payable every two mouths, or sloC* year, payable in advance- The TRIBUNE may be ordered direct form the carriers or from the ofllee. Complaints of irregular or tardy delivery service will re. oeive prompt attention. BY MAIL —The TRIBUNE is sent to out-of town subscribers for sl.sn a year, payable in advance; pro rata terms for shorter periods. The date when the subscription expires is on the address label of each papor. Prompt re newals must be mudc at the expiration, other wise thcr subscription will be discontinued. Entered at the Postofflce At Freeland. Pa., ae Second-Clasp Matter. Make a'.' mon~y order*, checks, ero. ,pnynbli to the Tribune I'rmting Company, Limited. HISTORIC RELICS. Characteristics In Men's Clothes Dating liuck to Feudal Timet*. The general lack of picturesqueness about the present day male attire is frequently lamented, yet how many people are aware that the average man carries on his coat at least two historical relics, one of which dates back to feudal times? This relic of the times of William the Conqueror consists of the two but tons worn at the back of a morning or frock coat. The buttons are, of course, useless for any practical pur pose, and inasmuch as they are cer tainly not decorative, you may natur ally ask what they are there for. Sartorial historians now tell us that these two buttons come down to us from the sword bearing age, when they were placed at the back of the coat for the purpose of supporting a sword belt, which, together with the sword, has long since been discarded, save by military men, the sole remain in evidence of its existence being the two buttons. Thus to this day they remain on our coats as mute witnesses of the days that are gone. The other historical relic which still survives in our modern coats is the nick in the lapel. Though you have been wearing coats and waistcoats ever since child hood's early days you have probably never thought to inquire whether or not there is any reason why tailors should continue to make this nick. It is now recalled by sartorial ex perts that when Napolecn first felt the sway of boundless ambition he tried to implicate General Morcau in Piche greu's conspiracy. As you will doubtless remember, Morcau had been the man of destiny's rival, and was an exceedingly popular soldier, but in the circumstances, with le petit caporal in power, it was not safe to publicly express sympathy with Morcau. So it came about that his admirers and supporters secretly agreed to nick their coat lapels to show their fellowship, the outlines of the coat after the cut had been made forming the letter M. It would be interesting to learn if men carry any other marks about their dress which have historic orig ins or associations. Our dress, after all. has ben evolved from that of those who have lived be fore us. —London Express. rer<l* and tin* Roman*. In Cicero's time and after (possibly also before), many men wore beards, and only men over 10 wore clean shaven. Spartianus spcak3 of Hadrian as wearing a full beard (promissa barba) to cover scars upon his face. Dio Cassius also speaks of him as the "first" to wear a beard. He is not' the first emperor whose bust shows him to have allowed the hair upon bis faco to grow, but he in the first one repre sented as wearing a full beard. Evi dently, therefore, Hadrian did not in troduce beards, but only the custom of wearing them long and full. On Trajan's Column there Is a represen tation of (he emperor sacrificing at an altar; many of the men who ap pear in the scene are bearded, but by no means all of them. Again, we find a scene wherein the seated em peror is surrounded by attendants, some of whom are bearded. In still another group Trajan is standing with a roll in his hand, addressing his men, and again we see both bearded and beardless men among those who stand before him. On the rectangu lar reliefs of the Arch of Constan tino we find that the men accompany ing Trajan are bearded, even when he and they are clad in the toga. The The arch at Benovontum shows in the same group lictors and comites both as bearded an.l beardless.— American Journal of Archaeology. It is proposed to illuminate the Yo semite falls, 2000 in height, by use of 20 arc lights in connection with means for producing color effects. Some of the roads are also to be lighted with electricity. An ornithologist was killed New Mexico while climbing a tree after a I ird's rest, lie was an eminent scicn let. and his death i- deeply deplored. If he had been a small hoy instead of a scicnti t a great many people would he harsh enough to say it was a judgment for j or.-coating birds. TO A GOLDFISH. What St %rec world is yours, indeed, O fish Of burnished-mctal hue imprisoned there! How 818 all the sea of your transparent dish! ,Yct would you have it larger at your wish? Or don't you care? See! I can raise a tempest with my pen! Thus, when you're rocked amiil your sandy lair Ifc r two small lingers of my lady's ten, The thought comes over me to ask again, Fish, do you care? I don't suppose you do, there with your lass— As rare to you as is my lady rare— Your Liliputian mermaid of the glass; Why, I could live in joy with Maud the fair, And in a smaller world the seasons pass, Nor would I care. —Freeman Tilden, in Boston Transcript. | The Lost HiniatureS I3y A.. D. Lee. r L T T is rather a peculiar case," he I began. j I smiled wisely. Everyone thinks his case peculiar. In reality it generally proves unusual only to the one concerned In It. My hook was turned face down, on the window sill. I was ready to lis ten, but Alyn did not go on at once. He sat quietly gazing out of the win dow across the river. The smile was still on my face us I suggested: "This 'peculiar case' certainly has Its heroine?" "It has a heroine, yes." Alyu's eyes were so frank as they met inlne. Ills gaze had not been so direct nor his face so clear the last time I had seen lihu. A year's absence irora his old associate had certainly been good for him. It was a pleasure to look at him. Just now his expression puzzled me. I could not fathom it, but It invited me to continue. "Have you her photograph with you?" "Yes." lie drew out of his breast pocket a small red leather case and opening It handed It to me. It needed but one glance at the painted oval to make mo exclaim impetuously: "You love her. No one could doubt that for an instant." Such a picture. A dainty little head covered with short curling hair; a del icate, loving, teasing face; dark, full bewitching eyes. The throat was bare, and an indistinct mass of white gauze ended the portrait. "You must love her." I spoke with conviction. "I do," -returned Alyn, "most sin cerely." Still his expression puzzled me. An Inscrutable smile played over his face, but he delayed beginning the story he bad volunteered to tell. "And she?" I hesitated over the In quiry remembering what manner of man it was who had gone from us a year ago. A gentle cxpr"ss!on passed over Alyn's face. "I think sho Is fond of me," ho re plied simply. I stretched out my J-acd and Alyn grasped It warmly. "I do believe," ho said, earnestly, "that If over a man was fortunate that man is I. YVIII you care to listen? I used to tell you things when I was a boy." he added, apologetically. I picked up my sewing, always lying ready against such times us tills, and leaned back in my rocker. Alyn reached for the picture, no leaned bis head on one liahd and his elbow on the table. In the other hand he liehl the case where his eyes could rest ou tho face. Ills own face became grave. "It was a year ago. One night, or morning, rather, I landed on the ferry on tho way to my lodgings. I couldn't get a street car nor a cab. In fact, I was too drunk to think of either, so I stumbled along just keeping straight esougli to escape the police. In Iront of my lodgings is an electric light. A slight fall of snow had whitened the pavement and made distinct this case beneath the light. I had just strength and sense enough left to pick It up, tumble up the stairs and stretch my self out on my couch." Alyn snapped the case shut and paused a momeut. "Some time the next day I awoke, and the lirst thing that attracted my attention was this—open on the floor, and her eyes looking up at me—me in that condition." An expression of disgust good to see came over the mau's face. "I quickly shut the case and put myself and my room In order. Then I sat down and studied her." Still absorbed in his narrative Alyn opened the case again and dropped his eyes on the photograph. "I told you this was a peculiar ease, and you will think, I fear, that I am a peculiar man. Hut the more I looked at her the more I wanted to look. I never parted with the minia ture. I carried it around In my pocket and thought and thought about her, until sho became a living presence to me, a beautiful woman always with me. I became absent-minded. The fellows complained, but I came to have au engagement always when they wanted me. My engagement was with this—the lady of the minia ture. I had lost my heart to her. About the original of tlio photograph I reasoned this way. She would not be carrying her own miniature around In all probability. It must have been lost by a .friend, and, probably, here was the hard part of it all, by her lov er. If I advertised It ho would claim It and I should not meet her. "I didn't advertise. I did something far more Irrational. I spent my spare hours searching. I vlsltod stores jnS walked the streets. I haunted the residence part of the city. X went to the opera and scanned the boxes rath er than the stage. Needless to say, I (lid not find her; yet I never lost hope. X felt I must find her and look at her. I felt this afresh every time I opened tills case. I would not give up the search. When I had exhausted every resource of my own I did something which I had shrunk from doing be fore; I hunted out the best detective in the city and told him to spare neither time nor money in finding her. "Within two weeks I received a note from him. He was obliged to leave the town suddenly. He wrote some thing like this: " 'l've found her at 320 Water ave nue. Imogene Munroe. Will give you particulars when I return to-morrow. She is anxious to recover the minia ture.' "But I could not await the next day, and saw no reason avhy it would be necessary. I had tho photograph and would take it to her. Because of it I should insure myself a reception at least. "I went to 320 Water avenue that evening. It is an elegant residence in perfect keeping with tho case and face. I had scribbled on my card. 'The finder of the miniature." The maid who admitted me said that Mis 3 Munroe was at home. She took the card and left me in the reception room. It was one of the most—what shall I call It?—delicious rooms I was ever in. One side was lined with deep windows draped in soft, dainty cur tains and filled with plants and flow ers. The air was heavy with the scent of roses. "I stood before one of the 'windows looking at the blossoms when she came. She came so quietly and gen tly that I did not hear her. It was only when the sweetest, lowest, clear est voice I had ever heard, said, 'At last I am to have my miniature,* that I knew she was In the room. I con fess I trembled, as I turned and took the hand of " Alyn stopped and smiled. It was a half sad, half amused, wholly Inscrut able smile. My sewing had fallen into my lap and I leaned forward listen ing breathlessly. "The hand of the original of the pic ture. These eyes, this mouth, this del icate complexion, this same soft curl ing hair. I was looking on it all, the same but " Alyn raised his eyes. The amuse ment had faded away. "The hair was snowy white and the skin was wrinkled. Hers was indeed the face of the miniature, the face of fifty years ago. My foolish fancy was destroyed, but in its place came the sweetest little white-haired lady that man was ever privileged to call friend. And this miniature—some way I had a strange reluctance to part with It, and so here It is with me now. That is all," concluded Alyn abruptly. "That Is enough," I said quietly. "I think that face lias stood between you and " Alyn broke in hastily. "O that Is nothing. I couldn't carry this," holding up the photograph, "into such places as I had been fre quenting, and so, well, it's all right." Alyn buttoned up his coat and smiled at me frankly as he went out byway of the office door. The doctor has always said there was the making of a man in that boy. —St. Louis Star. A Horscshoo In a Lofi. A curiosity was disclosed at Work & Yeend's sawmill on Thursday. A large oak log was put on to bo sawed. A slab nearly eighteen inches in thick uess was cut off the butt. Then a plank one and one-half inches thick was severed and the saw started on a trip through the log for another plank of the same thickness. When about four feet from the butt there was a cracking, buzzing and llyiug of teeth. The saw was chocked down so that it stopped the engine. The log was run back and when the suw was free it had been stripped of all its teeth, thirty-eight in number. The obstacle was dug out and found to be a horse's shoe. It was hand turned and in a good state of preser vation, probably having rusted but lit tle since being covered. The supposi tion is that the shoe was nailed on the tree for hitching purposes, and the wood grew over it. It is said that the age of a tree can be ascertained by couutiug the number of grain rings, each grain representing a year. If this be true, the horseshoe has been cov ered over half a century, for fifty-eight rings were between it and the bark.— Iteveuua Republican. Question Number Two. The sexton of a certain country church usually makes the most of an opportunity, and is not above giving what he describes as "a gentle 'int" to the sightseer. The other afternoon he had conduct ed n party round the church, and de spite the casual dropping of more than one "gentle 'int," it appeared as if the sexton was to go unrewarded. In the porch the leader of the party paused a moment, thanked the old sexton profusely, and wished him "good afternoon." "I suppose," he added, "you've been hero many years?" "Forty," replied the old man, "an' It's 11 worry strange thing, as when ever I'm a-sfcowlng a party out o' the porch tlicy alius ask 3 me that ques tion, or" (with emphasis) "the other'n!" "Indeed;" smiled the visitor. "And what may the other question be?" "What I calls question number two," replied the sexton, calmly, "is jest this: 'Stuuiwcll, is tijis allowed?' And Samiwell alius answers, 'Tips la a ; lowed.'" "Samlweli ' watched the party leave with a lighter heart and a heavier pocket.—Tit-Bits. A PRICE OF PROSPERITY; Workers Are llroken Dunn and Useless llcforo They Iteach Middle Age. The great material prosperity In the United States which has made tha wholo world open its eyes In a won dering bewilderment has not come as a chance gift, but has been achieved through the hardest kind of work. Every triumph costs something, even though it be peaceful and in its win ning there be none of the aspects of war. The wise at this time rightly attribute our industrial pre-eminence not to our natural material wealth nlone, but to the fact that we put into our work unusual skill and ener gy, and regulate both of these by a mental quickness almost phenomenal. But the wear and tear in this are bringing into being social conditions which will have to be dealt with seri ously by and by, if not at once. The efforts at cheapness of produc tion and superiority of product are lengthening one end of the labor line and shortening the other. The young are put to work too soon, and the old er workers are retired too early. That surely is a Berious condition In a coun try wliero manhood suffrage prevails and the majority rules. We do not note any particular demand for men and women. On the contrary, if we inquire among those who work to as sist and uplift the poor, wo learn that even In these "booming" times there is much suffering, because men past their first youth and not accomplished in special branches of skilled labor cannot find employment to which they are equal. Take one branch of work. Before the motive power was changed on the urban traction lines it was the com monest thing to see conductors and drivers whose heads had become whit ened in the service. They were quite equal to the work they had to do in those slower days that have only passed. But now few are employed save youths. Indeed, because of its purely physical exactions none but youths can do the work—youths with the alertness and the activity of acro bats. But even the youths who now fill these posts will not stand still. Mid dle age comes surely, and old ago presses closely on the heels of it So what are these men to do in a few years when their first spryness is gone? So also with the clerk, who be longs a little higher up in the scale. He is at his best at thirty, and at forty he begins'rapidly to go down the hill, to be numbered among the old fogies. The laborers, who frankly do manual la bor, have assistance from their boys and girls. Indeed, a laborer nowadays counts a large family of children as a valuable asset, a kind of savings bank, for the children are early put to work and trained in the idea of con tributing their wages to the family fund. And the all-round man, the Jack-of-all-trades, what of him? Ho walks superfluous on a darkened stage. Nobody wants a man who can do any thing—that is, everything. What is wanted is that a man can do some one thing with some degree of excel lence. It is a time of specialization, not only in the professions, but in the trades, and even among the common laborers, whose muscle and brawn are their only means of eurniug. The outlook for those not provided with fortunes and not fortunate enough to have laid by for the time of early retirement is not particularly bright But much better provision may be made for the growing youth of the time if those responsible for their education will take into account the changed and changing conditions. Our young men must find out what tlioy want to do, and learn how to do tt. There will be the bright spot in the future—the realization that the educa tion of the youth who nre soon to be the men, and the controllers, shall be in the direction of their life-work, and not confined to a slipshod cultivation which unfits them for many useful employments and qualifies them to excel in none. There is always room at the top, the preachers and other wise men tell us. This is quite true; but it is also quite true that the geniuses uud men of un common force that are born into the world are not one in ten thousand. AVe need not bother about therm The com monplace and the ordinary, however, make up tile great mass of the people, and their happiness or unhappiness is the measure of success or failure.— Editorial in Harper's Weekly. Thousands of Wild Gees©. Wild geese, honkers and yellow legs are arriving on Sauvie's Island by the thousand on their way North, and some of the farmers there are using bad language because the law passed by the late Legislature forbids them to shoot these geese. They allege that the geese are destroying their crops and devastating their pastures, and de mand protection. One Irate rancher was assured that he could not be harmed for protecting his crops and was told to take a club and sail in and kill as many of them as he could. Ho had uo idea of undertaking any such "wild goose chase" as that, but mnde threats of trying powder and shot on the web-footed birds. Probably ho might be allowed to kill the geese to protect his crop and might be al lowed to give away those killed, but if he undertakes to sell them the game | warden will be after him. A thousand or two wild geese, hungry from a • long tlight. can soon play havoc with a grain field or a pasture. In Cali fornia the farmers shoot the wild geese which come on their farms by the wagonload. It is the opinion of most sportsmen that the Legislature over did the mntter of protecting game when they made is unlawful to shoot wild geese at this season.—Horning Oregoulan. New York City.—The box Eton inakes the very latest form of the popular Jacket and is much liked both itor entire costumes and separate WOMAN'S BOX ETON. yrrnps. Taffeta, tucked and plain, black and white, is much used for the latter purpose, but etamine is some what newer and more durable, and is attaining great vogue. The May Man ton original, from which the model was made, is of the open mesh light weight tucked material in black, with revers and applique of cream Cluuy lace over white, but cream makes a Charming warm weuther wrap and Is peculiarly effective over the much Worn white gowns; and entire cos tumes are made from linen and duck as well as suitable silks and wools. The jacket Is simplicity itself. The backs lit smoothly and the fronts hang from the shoulders, without dart's, in box style, the upper edges being ex tended and rolled back to form re vers. The sleeves are cut in coat style, but flare becomingly at the wrists. To cut this Eton for a woman of medium size, three and a half yards of material twenty-one inches wide, tllree and a quarter ywrds twenty-sev en inches wide, two and one-eight t WOMAN'S TUCKED BLOUSE. yards thirty-two Inches whlo, or two yards forty-four luchcS wide, will be required, with three-eight yard of all over lace and two and a quarter yards of applique to trim as illustrated. Woman's Tucked lilnunc. Tucks not alone hold their place, but gain in favor month by month. Both for the odd waist and the gown made en suite they are held the smartest possible finish and are seen alike in thin diaphanous materials, silks and soft wools. The charming blouse Il lustrated in the large drawing is adapt ed to many uses, and is equally ap propriate for the costume and the separate bodico. The original is of white lawn, and Is worn with a tie nnd belt of blue Liberty satin; but fine madras, grass linen, Swiss nnd all similar fabrics, India silk, crepe de chine, taffeta and the like and all soft wools are equally suitable. The back is smooth and snug, with two groups of tucks that are drawn together at the waist to give a becom ing, tapering effect. The fronts are tucked in three groups and are ren dered unique by the extension on the right edge, which is closed with small pearl buttons in groups of three. The sleeves are in bishop style, tucked nearly to the wrists, where they fall free to form becoming puffs. To make this blouse for a woman of medium size, four yards of material twenty-one inches wide, three and three-eight yards twenty-seven Incites wide, three nnd a half yards thirty two inches wide, or two and a quarter yards forty-four Inches wide, will be required. The T.ouUlno Silk Sunn, Nursery fashions are more perman ent than the modes of older women, but still a few fleeting changes are perceptible now and then. For in stance,, the question of sashes is al ways of interest, for a little maid looks her sweetest in a white dress with a blue sash. Gr.-sgraia silk, watered ■llk and b *vit all hail their day. Trills summer preference is shown for the Louisine silk sash, a pretty soft weave. The sash ribbons used by lit tle children are not very wide. Flowered Muslin. A pompadour flowered muslin gown lias a pretty finish to the sides ot' the front of the waist. There are box pleats of the muslin on either side of the white-tucked lawn vest, in which are three bread bauds of cream lace insertion set across. The upper part of the vest is outlined with a broad collar, which has applications of lace. This collar is of sheer white muslin, which is particularly pretty over the flowered muslin of the waist. A Pretty Pique-Frock. A pretty pique frock for a child has a coarse lace yoke of guimpe, a turn down collar edging it frilled with lace, and through the collar, which Is cut In deep slits, buttonhole stitched, a ribbon is run and tied in the back. Similar slits are cut in the lower part of the waist of the little frock, which has the skirt sewed to it without a belt, and through this a narrow waist ribbon is run and also tied in the back. Charming Neck Chains. Mexican opals make, charming neck chains, pretty, limpid things. Some of the stones are deep red in tone, oth ers almost white, ai they show in dif ferent lights. Each stone is sot in a gold band, and the whole necklace In a liquid rainbow of light. Quite dif ferent is the necklace of Australian opals. In the other the stones are almost flat, and in this the opalescent beads, showing charming soft green and blue tone 3 in their milky depths, are,long and egg-shaped, with a line of rock crystal running through the cen tre of each, the whole very dainty and attractive. Child's Wrapper. Simple wrappers that con bo slipped oil when the room is cool or during convalescence arc essential to the com forts and well-being of the children as they are to that of their elders. This pretty little May Mautou model can be made to serve such purpose and also as a bath robe when made from suit able material. The original Is of dot ted dimity, in blue and white, but Scotch and French flauuel, tlannellette, lawn nnd various fabrics are appro priate. The hack is seamless and laid in four tucks that give a yoke effect and provide fulness below. The fronts also are tucked but open at the centre for their entire length, being closed by means of buttons and button holes when desired. The sleeves arc in bishop style and a simple roll-over col lar finishes the neck. To cut this wrapper for a child six years of age, three nnd three-quarter CHILD'S Wr.APPER. yards of material twenty-seven Inches wide, three and one-eight yards thirty two inches wide, or two and live-eight yards forty-four inches wide, will bo required.
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