, ■d&BEHEFITIH rmM Tho Breton lint. The little round Breton hat is enor mously popular in felt with the brim bound by a contrasting color, espe cially in front. A great deal of bright apple green velvet is employed in mil linery, and one firm has made a strik ing note in the employment of green parrots Willi green satin rosettes on .white and nalo mauve felt. Very large toques are also to be worn, the trim ming flat and low and a soft drapery of lace round the brim falling low on the liair at the hack. Nothing points to the return of the high cotiiure, as has been 'jlv 6tated in some fashion papers. Tho A>>|)liqufl CraiA. Fur and lace, lace and fur and fur k and lace and velvet make a chorus ™ mat never falls to captivate our win ter fancy, a chorus, moreover, that asks the aid of the needle. Stitchery, stitcliery, all the time, and never a stitch too much. Applications are to be the ruling bent in this year of grace. The craze for applying one material over another amounts al most to a disease, for it is irresistible. The cut out cretonne motifs and trails •continue to declare themselves, while tno mystery lent to this decoration by a veiling of transparency, prefer ably the very finest aerophane, i 3 a vast improvement. Shaded so discreet ly, all hardness is lost, and there is substituted a certain shadowy sugges tiveness which is the very essence of artistic feeling. Tit© Revival ot* the Karrlnfif. The long-predicted revival of the ear • Ajring has, it would seem, arrived; just now earrings are considered quire the cprrect thing and are being worn to a i nsldorable extent for the first time years, though two styles only in fc „;Mngs are at the present time no t; )e rt ' a ' pearls, lustrous and of fairl ' E°°d size, are very expensive, but s perfect are tl.e imitations now man/ifactured that only an experienced eye/ ean ''etect the difference. Tho • i ffectlve of the earrings now rjfiov ■ i have a small diamond as the of a screw and dependent from this is a pearl or other stone. The effect i. lat of tin- drop, yet there is no swin.iiip. the one thing most im ! - rlunt i a- -ui in the up-to-date ear ring.- -American Queen. The Wedding Onlic. Wedding cal l boxes i.ri In any de sign which thi briil" is pleased to or der, if she give.- the lustru- ons lo.ig enough in adva • privnt, how ever, there is a *• • •"nil ; el'.Trace for severe shapes, with dependent i upon the best materials for die it Heavy "white water color oris aro the proper sort for th- of boxes, on the top 3 or side. -h the monograms, usually of tv anil bridegroom, are hie e'cil tellef, either in white or in gold and silver. Ribbons for tying the hoxe3 a ■ of. moire, taffeta or satin. The bride's eako la exclusively the bride's. Whatever the amount cf ik previously stored in boxes the . guests to carry away as tlicy purs . . there is always an especially dec irai.ed mf cake among tho good things se v . in W the guests, it is intended frd . ■ • t!y W that tho bride herself shall cut this r cake in the presence of tho guests, es- I peclally her maids, who expect to find in it a gold ring or some other ai ticie portending the marriage within a year of the finder. A bride lately took high-handed hold of tradition and substituted a heart for uie ring of our foremothors' super stition. Scientific Sliirf Cutting. The trend of fashion in women's skirts is toward a closer fit and more sheath-like shape from the waist to flounce depth. The greater number of these skirts aro ornamented with flounces, various depths being em ployed, while perhaps the graduated t flounce may be considered the most up to date. The flounces are cut on en tirely new lines, being much more cir cular than heretofore, and produce a more graceful and decided spring around the foot of the skirt. This ex treme fulness accentuates the clinging effect of the upper portion, which must be fitted with the greatest exactness. The flounce ripples gracefully being much more circular than the older modes, and therefore is fuller around the bottom. It is in two pieces and slopes gradually until at the back it is twice tue depth of tho front. It has the added advantage that it may be made with a sweep or shorter for those who prefer the round length. The upper or sheath-like portion is held in place by straps of elastic tacked to the gore seams as directed on tbe label of the pattern. To these elastics are jl sewed tapes, that adjustment may be " v made to suit the individual figure. This fashionable mode is called the "form fitting," or serpentine skirt.—The De lineator. "All Work and No Play." We all know tho old adage, "All work and no piay makes Jack a dull hoy," and perhaps it is particularly truo when applied to busy wom6n. Women, if I may express it so, plod at their tasks in away unknown to most male workers. Ask any business manager of a firm which employs both sexes, and he will tell you that women are by far more conscientious and turn out more work in a given time. Then, too, nature meant men to be the breadwinners, and endowed them with constitutions more fitted for the daily drudgery of office or professional life. The mere fact of having to dc the same thing day by day is posi tively deadly to many of the gentler sex. To take up work and run it as a hobby and taking up work as a means of providing bread and butter for your self or those dependent on you are things as remote as the poles. The sensitive, nervous tempera ments, which are those which certainly do uie best work, are very easily in fluenced by their surroundings, and it makes all the difference in the world to them 11 at the end of a hard day's work some one or something awaits them that will take them out of the business world in which they have been and give them sometning entirely different to think about. So often one hears a business woman say that she is too tired to go to the theatre, or to read, when as a matter of fact, once tlic actual effort of get ting there was accomplished, she would find it a real rest, for it would change her thoughts, get her away from her little homo worries, and arouse her interest in the lives of those who seem to nave so little in common with litr own. Lack of recreation not only ruins the health and turns girls into old women, but it take 3 from them all individual ity, all freshness, all power of sym pathy, and turns then into the awful product of this twentieth century—a woman who has but one idea in life, and that the particular branch of work in which she is engaged.—Home Notes. Ni'W Kra in Sleevfts. There seems always something now to say about sleeves, really the most important item in wardrobes just now. i'ne prettiest and most modish sleeve is undoubtedly the one that follows closely the lines of the arm to below Hie elbow and then widens excessively with a lot of ruffled underslceves that fall over the hand; but this sleeve, un fortunately, is not generally becoming, A sleeve that, on the other haad, is almost universally becoming is close, with a high, tight cuff and elaborate drapery at the elbow. An example of this drapery is a scarf of mousseline de soie arranged with a big bow on the outside of the arm, while the same idea on an elbow sleeve consists of a turn-up cuff, slashed on the outside of the arm with a frill of lace or a puff of some thin stuff coming through the slashing. The correct way i 3 to have the full part of the elbow trimming on the outside. Some dresses made by first-class houses have, sleeves made in a bag to the elbows, where thoy moot long, close cuffs. A close cuff, perhaps five inches deep, with the full sleeve bagging over this, is perhaps the most popular model. This .sleeve should increase in size gradually, but should reveal the contour of tho arm almost to the elbow. After sleeves, what Is the next im portant thing on bodices? Probably collars, although there is a great simi i rity about these. They vary more in regard to size than to shape, in tbe latter respect keeping close to tho ..is XIII. design. It is the use of m broideries and laces that agives . Hot to most of these. \ deep collar of yeilcw batiste, em broidered with white and yellow worsted and Inset with ecru lace. Is a nov Ity that gives distinction to a gown o* i :hae brown velvet. The blouse has ■ - -ilher trimming save some small and very lovely goid buttons, which are ■ed in clusters on the front of the bodice and on the small, close cuffs. To - skirt is made with a shaped flounce, trimmed with diamonds formed of lines of small tucks taken in the still}!. —New York Tribune. White rosea are mhch in demand for the winter hats. More stylish cloth skirts are made with a separate drop skirt of silk than with a lining sewed in with the out sido fabric. Narrow lines of costly fur on gauze, net and tulle remain one of tho incon gruous combinations, but it is extreme ly effective and becoming whenever used. The rage for lace for the trimming of hats and the adornment of gowns and evening wraps still continues, Irish crochet and filet being the popular sorts. Guipure lace waists are prettily fin ished with tiny bands of fur, and one thing which never fails in these days is the stitching applied in every con ceivable way. A somewhat novel and altogether pretty feature of a fashionable wedding was a wreath of sweet peas worn by each bridesmaid in place of the cus tomary large hat. Brown cloth forms a smart tailor costume, with cream panne revers trimmed with gold-threaded applique. Tho vest is of Persian embroidery, outlined with gold. The handsomest spangled nets are being used, with garish effect and great expense, over brocaded colored silks and shaded chiffons and the combina tion is bewildering. Tli Thoueht of it H 11111<5 Cat. In fall, whon I poor out nt night, The stars seem very bright. They're surely brighter when it's coM; Ami, though I never have beou told, i know these little stars all try To shine their brightest in the sky, To warm the world and make things bright, lor outs who slug outdoors all night. —Philadelphia Press. New Cudgel damn. Hero is a new game, which is caus ing a great deal of amusement at so cial gatherings in Europe. Two boys, or young men, are blind folded, and in the right hand of each is placed a stout roll of paper in the form of a club or cudgel. The players then have to lie down on the carpet and to grasp each other by the left hand. Thereupon the fun begins. One of the players asks the other: "Are you there?" When the answer "Yes" comes, he raises his right hand and strives to hit with his cudgel the spot where, from the sound of the voice, he supposes the other player's head to be. The other player, however, is at per fect liberty to move his head after he has answered "Yes," and the result is that in nine cases out of ten the blow misses his head and falls on his shoul ders or some other part of his body. In that ease it is his turn to re taliate, and so the game goes on in definitely, the sole object of the player who asks the question being to strike the other player's head and that of the player who answers to save his head from being struck. A Terrible Moment. While in New Haven to attend the Yale and Princeton football game, I witnessed a sight which I will not for get for many a day. it was almost noon, and the main sctreets were Bwarmed with the hundreds of visitors that a big game always draws to the town where the game is to be t played, when clouds of black smoke were seen to rise from the upper stories of the Hutchinson, a large, live-story, light brick building, occupied entirely by students. Long before the fire depart ment had arrived an immense crowd had gathered on the spot, and there we beheld a young man standing on the ledge of a hull-story window, wild ly calling for aid, wnile the thick smoke rose all around him, and now and again completely enveloped him. Two or three times he Beemed about to jump to the ground, which would mean certain death, but each time he was stayed by the shouts of his friends below, who called frantically to him to wait To the crowd, as they stood in the terrible suspense the fire engines never seemed longer in coming, and when they did arrive it took some time to raise the truck ladder, so that angry remarks could ho heard on all sides. The sight of the ladder slowly rising, and the cheers and applause of his friends below, gave hope and courage to tho entrapped student, by this time almost suffocated by the smoke, and ho had Just strength enough to soizo the ladder as it reached the window and slide down half-way, where ho was caught in the arms of two of the firemen and borne unconscious to the ground. He was taken to the house tf a physician nearby, and It was over an hour before ho recovered. The lire burned on and completely gutted the three upper stories, but the two lower stories were damaged only by water. Tho students in the lower stories went to their rooms and threw whatever they could into tho street, where the things were gathered up by their friends, who stood waiting with the water pouring down upon them. Those whose rooms were on me upper stories, however, lost everything they had. That night there were about 50 stu dents looking around for homes. The Cobbler Gobbled. Little Dickie wept. You must not think too badly of Dickie, for he was only five. He wept because the turkey was after him again! There were many turkeys about, for Dickie's father owned a farm. But this particular turkey was the liveliest of them all, and how Dickie feared him! It seemed to him that the turkey was always after him. "He doesn't ylke me!" Dickie had explained when jeered at for his fears. "He wants to bite me." "Never mind, Dickie boy," his father had laughed. "Some day you shall-bite him." Dickie had vowed in his heart he never would. And now, on the day before Thanksgiving, the turkey was pursuing him again. Dickie had. only a moment before, escaped from his nurse—a tiresome person, far too much addicted to saying "don't"—and had strayed Into the farmyard. He looked so clean and nice in his white sailor suit, over the blue collar of which strayed his yellow curia Ills blue eyes were filled with tears as he ran. The turkey, gobbling, ran after him— but not, as he thought, in pursuit, for the turkey had no thought of Dielcie, but was trying to run away from Sam, the black cook. "Sam! Sam!" called Dickie. "Sam! He's after me." "All right, Mas'r Dickie," answered Sam. "I be after htm, and ho knows It, too." At that point , Diehie sat down, abruptly and unintentionally, on a heap of straw. The turkey came up. Dickie waved his straw hat wildly up and down. "Hold him! Hold him!" eried Sam. ' "I can't. He'll hold me," walled .Dickie, as the turkey came closer. "Sam—oh, Bam!" "Hello, Dickie! cried his father, coming out of the barn. "My boy a coward? That will never do. Stand up to him like a man!" Now, Dickie never obeyed his nurse if he could help it. Sometimes, I am sorry to say, he did not do what his mother told him. very quickly. But he know better than not to mind his father the first time. He stood up now, his fat legs very, very wide apart. The turkey, however, shot by, Sam after it. In a moment Dickie saw his foe in tile hands of Sam, who bore him off, gobbling to the last and fluttering wildly. "I 'tood up to him, daddy," said Dickie. "But I didn't bite him. I touldn't." "You shall tomorrow," replied his father, swinging him up on his broad shoulder. "Come and see the little calf." The next day Dickie sat at the table in hi 3 high chair. He was not usually auowed to dine with the grown-ups, hut on Thanksgiving day his grand father paid his yearly visit to the farm, and insisted upon his little grandson's presence. Dickie's mother cut up a small piece of white meat for him. "There!" said his father. "You've bitten the turkey now." Dickie wondered what he meant, and why everybody laughed. But he had long grown accustomed to the way in which big people laughed when he saw nothing funny, so he took a spoonful of cranberry sauce and said nothing. He did not realize that it was his foe he had been eating.—New Yorlr. Trib une. Clytie, tho Sunflower. When I was a little girl I used often to visit a gentle lady who lived at the edge of a quaint old garden. Holly hocks and sweetwilliam and mignon ette grew in that garden, and away at the farther end tall, strong stalks with nodding yellow blossoms at their very tops. These, the lady said, were sun flowers; and she told me an interesting story about them that I have never for gotten. Once upon a time—hundreds and hundreds of years ago—there lived in a far-off country called Hellas a beau tiful maiden whose name wa3 Clytie. She was not a real maiden, but a water nymph, and her home was in the midst of a forest stream. In those days every stream and tree had its guard ian spirit, and the people of Hellas, who were the Greeks, believed that their land was blessed by these nymphs and made fruitful. The tree spirits were called dryads and the water spirits were naiads. Clytie was a naiad because she guarded a sparkling stream that came flowing down from the mountain side. She was very beau tiful, for her hair was long and yeiiow, her skin was as white as the inner siue of a lily and her c-yes were brown and dancing as the waters are when they darken among the shadows of the trees and are rippled by the summer wind. The little nymph was very happy in tile pleasant wood where she was born, and played contentedly all the long, drowsy mornings and afternoons and evening 3. But one day she ventured farther than she had ever been before —out into an open space where the sun was shining like gold on the peb bles at the bottom of the stream. Now, Clytie had never looked upon the sun; she had only seen the rays on the stream that was her home as they drifted down through the leafy branches. As she looked toward the heavens her eyes were dazzled. Apolio, the young god of the sun, was driving, as he drove every day, in his chariot of flame, from east to west through the heavens; and Clytie was charmed. She had never beheld so beautiful a being, and she called him to come down and play with her by the stream-hanks in the meadow. But Apoiio kept straight on In lii 3 course, never deigning to notice the little water-nymph so far nelow him on the earth. Clytie sat on tho grassy bank and watched until the chariot of gold disappeared behind the western hills and the purple mist of the twnight came. Then she went home, hut was very lonely. So day after day she came out from the shadows of the forest to the open place, where the waters gleamed and (he fish went darting like spears of go'd. But Apollo never no ticed though she called him and called nim to come and be her playmate. The people of the earth who came that way often saw her there by the stream and heard th? sound of her voice, and they looked on lior with awe. For nine days and nine long nights the maiden sat and mourned, with her yellow hair drawn close about her, and would neither eat nor sleep. She was very, very sad, this little water-nymph, but she did not die. Oh, no. On the morning of the tenth day, when the children of the valley came to play by the meadow stream, they found a won der where tile ma.den had been sitting —a tall, strong stalk with a nodding yellow blossom at its very top. And whon the people watched, day after day, and saw that the pretty flower turned its head to follow the course of tho sun from east to west through the heavens, they knew it was the nymph of the stream; and they called it Clytie, the sunflower.—Grace Adele Pierce, in Woman's Home Companion. Schoolboy Known Three Town*. A schoolboy at Greenpoint was asked to name three towns on Long Island. He gave them as follows: "Crosstown, Downtown and Out of Town." —New York World. The contortionist is not the only fellow who is addicted to patting him self on the back. "UNREDEEMED PLEDGES." One of the Ways In Which the Unwary Are Tricked Out of Money. Recently there have been added to the city's heterogeneouscommercesev eral little shops which offer for sale, mostly at auction to the highest bid der and to the only bidder, too, if his bid he high enough, jewelry and other articles that go under the uame of un redeemed pledges. There are tricks in all trades and this particular trade is the sublimation of all tricks. In tlie first place there is something alluring in the term "unredeemed pledges." All such stores employ men with phenomenal lungs, who cry their wares in basso profundo. In one of them there is a fellow with a voice that would be conspicuous in a den of roar ing litiis. He is always coherent and the volume of breathy sound that comes from his mouth seems to be reverberated from every surface in the establishment. Generally he is tell ing the merits of a certain watch, or the price he has just been offered for the timekeeper, and as a passing pe destrian reaches tho doorway he raiac3 his voice a little, which secures an in voluntary turn of the head. Often curiosity is aroused and the passerby goes in to investigate. When one enters the shop the "auc tioneer" is probably announcing he has just been offered a ridiculously low price for a fine pair of earrings. "Gentlemen, are you going to let this elegant pair of earrings gol Saporior to Mustard or any other plaster, and will uot blister tin* most delictus skin. The pain allaying and curative Qua:itlos of this art! le are wonderful. It will stop tlio toothache at caco, and relievo headache and sciatica. We recommend It as tho best and safest extornal oounter-lrritant known, also as on oxtemnl remedy for pains in tho cheat and stomach and ul! rheumatic, neuralgic and gouty o miplainta. A trial will provo what wo claim for it, an : it will bo found to bo invaluable in tho househol people say "It is tho boat of nil yuur prep Price, 15 cents, nt all druggists, or otV . IOA] -I or by sending this amount to us iu ■. •. wo will send you a tube by mail. No article should he accepied by t! <•* i•v> ,3a the MUM carries our loboh oa ot' genuine. CUEESEBROUGn fIANUF ZT. RING CO., 17 State Stroet, New York Oil*. DROPSY q :r TOW.. BOOK ofu.tim.mil:. ' (> J., Frc. Dr. H. H. un££r * :