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A Winter Night APHays." A Tale of Love, Desertion and Disobedience. BY BRET HARTB, CHAPTER I. It was difflcrlt to say if Hays' farmhouse, or "Hays," as it was familiarly called, looked any more bleak and cheerless that winter afternoon than it usually did in the strong summer eunBhine. Painted a cold, merciless white, with scant projection for shadows, a roof of white pine shingles, bleached lighter through in and wind, and covered with low, white-capped chimneys, it looked even more stark and chilly than the drifts which had climbed its low roadside fence, and yet seemed hopeless of gaining a foothold on the glancing walls, or slippery wind-swept roof. The Btorm, which had already heaped the * " J nrvArr hollows oi tne roau wim wiu?, Its finely granulated flakes against the building, but they were whirled along gutters and ridges end disappeared in smoke-like puffs across the icy roof. The granite outcrop in the hilly field beyond had long ago whitened and vanished; the dwarf firs and larches, which bad at first taken uncouth shapes in the drift, blended vaguely together, and then merged into an unbroken wave. But the gaunt angles and rigid outlines oi tho building remained sharp and unchanged. It would seem as if the rigors of winter had only accented their hardness, as the fierceness of summer had previously made them intolerable. It was believed that some of this unyielding grimness attached to Hays himself. Certain it is, that neithei hardship nor prosperity had touched hie character. Years ag<e his emigrant team l? ^=|jjjfe/ -^gk ^ : ^ ^^T^~T'r~" "S ^ \ BE' HAD BEES I5VE8TED BT WINTRY v DRIFTS." ' ? ?? ] had broken down in this wild but wooded j defile of the Sierras, and he had beer 5 !i forced to a winter encampment with | j only a rude log-cabin for shelter, on tht * veiy verge of the promised land. Un- \ able to enter it himself, he was never- ! theless able to assist the better equipped teams that followed him with wood and water, and a coarse forage gathered \ from a sheltered slope of wild oats. : This was the beginning of a rude "sup- ; ply station," which afterward became sc i profitable that when spring came anc Hays' team were sufficiently recruited i to follow the flood of immigrating goldseekers to the placers and valleys, there seemed no occasion for it. His fortune had been already found in the belt of ' arable slope behind the wooded defile, and in the miraculously located coigne of vantage on what was now the great highway of travel and the only oasie i and first reiief of the weary journey. The breaking down of his own train at ' that 6pot had Dot only been the salvation of those who found at "Hays' " the means of prosecuting the last part of | their pilgrimage, but later provided the equipment of returning teams. i The first two years of this experience had not been without hardship and danger. He had been raided by Indians, and besieged for three days in his 6tock- i aded cabin; he had been invested by ; wintry drifts of twenty feet of snow, ! out off equally from incoming teams from i the Dass and the vallev below. Dur- i ing tho second year his wife had joined i him with four children, but whether the j enforced separation had dulled ner conjugal affection, or whether she was tempted by a natural feminine longing i for the land of promise beyond, she ] sought it one morning with a fascinat- j lng teamster, leaving her two sons and , her two daughters behind her; two years ! later the elder of the daughters followed the mother's previous example, with such maidenly discretion, however, a9 to forbear compromising herself by any j previous matrimonial formality whatever. From that day Hays had no further personal intercourse with the valley below. He put up a hotel a mile away from the farm-hou6e that he might not have to dispense hospitality to hi6 customers, nor accept their near companionship. Always a severe Presbyteriun and an uncompromising deacon of a far-scattered and scanty community who occasionally held their service In one of his barns, he grew more rigid, sectarian and narrow day by day. He was feared, and, although neither respected nor loved, his domination and endurance were accepted. A grim landlord, hard creditor, close-fisted patron and a smileless neighbor, who neither gambled nor drank. "Old-Havs." as he was called. while yet scarce fifty, had few acquaintances and fewer friends. There were those who believed that his domestic lnfelicitits were the result of his unsympathetic nature; it never occurred to any one (but himself, probably) that they might have been the cause. In those Sierran altitudes, as elsewhere, tne Deilel in original sinpopularly known as "pure eussedness" ?dominated and overbore any consideration of passive, impelling circumstances or temptation, unless they had been actively demonstrated with a revolver. The passive expression of harshness, suspicion, distrust, and moroseness was looked upon us inherent wickedness. The storm raged violently as Hays emerged from the last of a long range of outbuildings and sheds, and crossed the open space between him and the farmhouse. Before he had reached the north -with its scant shelter, he had floundered through a snowdrift and faced ' the full fury of the storm. But the snow seeiued to *iave glanced from his hard, .angular figure as It had rro n his rcof,ridge, for when he entered the narrow [liallway hi? pilot jacket was unmarked, jexeept where a narrow line of powdered iflakes outlined the seamc, as if worn. To the right was an apartment, half office, half Hitting room, l'urniohed with a iciark and chilly iron safe, a sofa and ichairs covered with black and colily inhining horsehair. Here Hays not only ,removed hie upper "oat but his under one also, and drawing a chair before the jflre, sat down in his shirt sleeves. It iwa? his usual rustic pioneer habit, end imuibt haye been some lingering ro.-i.io iscence of certain not remote ancestors to whom clothes were an impediment. ;He was warming his hands and placidly lignoring his gaunt arms in their thinly !clad "hickory" sleeves, when a young igirl of eighteen sauntered, balf perfunctorily. half inquisitively, into the room. {It was his only remaining daughter. Already elected by circumstances to a dry 'household virginity, her somewhat large ifeatures, sallow complexion, and tasteless, unattractive dress did not obviously suggest a sacrifice. Since her i Bister's departure she had taken sole charge of her father's domestic affairs and the few rude servants he employed, with a certain inherited following of his own moods and methods. To the neighbors she was known as "Miss Hays"? a j dubious respect that in a community of (familiar "Sallies." "Mamies," "Pussies," |was grimly prophetio. Yet she rejoiced jin the Oriental appellation of "Zuleit'i." 'To this it is needless to add that it was Iimpossible to conceive anyone who lookled more decidedly Western. "Ye can put some things in my carpet bag agin the time the sled comes round," fcaid her father,t meditatively, without looking up. "Then you're not coming back totight?" asked the girl curiously. "What's going on at the Summit, father?" "I am," he 6aid grimly. "You don't reckon I kalkilate to stop thar! I'm ?oing on as far as Horseley's to close up that contract afore the weather changes." ^ "I kinder allowed It was funny you'd go to the hotel to-night. There's a dance there; those two Wetherbee girls and Mamie Harris passed up the road an hour ago on a wood 6led, nigh blown to pieces, and sittin' up in the snow like skeert white rabbits." Hays' brow darkened heavily. "Let 'em go," he said, in a harsh voice , that the fire had not yet softened. "Let 'em go for all the good their fool parents will ever get outer 'em, or the herd of wayside cattle they've let them loose among." "I reckon they haven't much to do at home, or are hard put for company, to travel six. miles in the snow to show otf their prinkin' to'a lot of idle louts Bhinj with bear's grease and scented up with doctor'6 stuff," added the girl, shrugging her shoulders with a touch of her father's mood and manner. Perhaps it struck Hays at that moment that her attitude was somewhat monstrous and unnatural for one still young and presumably like other girls, for, after glancing at her under hia heavy brows, he 6aid, in a gentler tone: "Never you mind, Zuly. When your brother Jack comes home, he'll know what's what, and have all the proper New York ways and style. It's nigh on three years now that he's had the ; best training Doctor Dawson's Academy j could give, 6ayin' nothing of the pow'ful Christian example of one of the best preachers in the States. They mayn't have worldly, ungodly fandangoes where he is, and riotous llvin,' and scarlet abominations, but I've been told tha< they've 'tea circles,' and 'assemblies,' and 'harmony concerts' of young folks ( ?and dancin'?yes, fine square dancin' 'j under control. No, I ain't stinted hire in anythin*. You can remember that, 5 Zuleika, when you hear any more gos- 1 sip and backbitin' about your father's meanness. I ain't spared no money for ( him." ' "I reckon not," said the girl, a little , sharply. "Why, there is that draft tot two hundred and fifty dollars that kern only last week from the Doctor's tot extras." "Yes," replied Hays, with a slight , knitting of the brows, "the Doctor mout hev writ more particklers, but parsons . ain't alius business men. I reckon J these here extries were to push Jack along in the term, as the Doctor knew I ! wanted him back here in the spring, now that his brother has got to be too j stiff-necked and self-opinionated to do j his father's work." It 6eemed from this that there had been a quarrel between Hays and his eldest son, who conducted his branch of business at 1 Sacramento, and who had in a passion threatened to 6et up a rival establishment to his father's. And it was also evident from the manner of the girl that she was by no means a strong partisan of her father in the quarrel. "You'd better find out first how all the 6choolin' and trainin' of Jack's is goin' to jibe with the ranch, and if he ain't been eddicated outof all knowledgo of station business or keerforit. New York ain't Hays' Ranch, and these yer 'Assemblies' and 'Harmony doin's and their airs and graces may put him out of conceit with our plain ways. I reckon ye didn't take that to mind when you've been bustlin' round payin' two hundred and fifty dollar drafts for Jack and and quo'llin' with Bijah! I ain't 6ayin' nothin', father, only mebbe if Bijah had h.iH Hrnfr.c; and extrvs flourished around Iiim a little more, mebbe he'd have been more polite and not so tough Booken. Mebbe," she continued with a little laugh, "even I'd be a little more In style to suit Master Jack when he comes ef I had three hundred dollars' worth of convent schoolin* like Mamie Harris." "Yes. And you'd have only made rourself fair game for ov'ry schemin', lar.y sport or counter-jumper along the load from this to Sacramento," responded Hays, savagely. Zuleika laughed again constrainedly, but in a way that might have suggested that this dreadful contingency was still! bne that it was possible to contemplate1 without entire consternation. As she 1 jnoved slowly toward the door she j {stopped with hand on the lock and said , tentatively: ! "I reckon you won't be wanting any ?upper before you go? You're almost sure to be offered somethin' up ai Horseley'B, while if I have to cook you up suthin' now and still have the men's eitnrvAi* 4 S\ wnf ?+ OuWQn if TYl Q L'OCl lU^uiai ou^ri w ui> ovivi<| *%. muuv,u ' all the expense of an extra meal." Hays hesitated. He would have preferred his supper now, and had his daughter pressed him would have accepted it. But economy, which was one of Zuleika's inherited instincts, vaguely appealing to him to be as a virtue, interchangeable with charity and abstemiousness, was certainly to be encouraged in a young girl. It hardly seemed possible that with an eye single to the Integrity ol the larder "she could, ever look kindly on the blandishments of his sex, or, indeed, be exposed to them. He said simply: "Don't cook for me," and resumed his attitude before the fire as the girl left the room. As he sat there grim and immovable as one of the battered lire-dogs before him, the wind in the chimney se med to carry on a deep-throated, dejected, and conlidential conversation with him, but to really have very little to reveal. Thp was no hauntine reminiscencc of his married life in this room, which ho had always occupied in preference to the company or sitting-room beyond. There wore no familiar shadows of tho past JurKing in its corners to pervade his reverie. When he did reflect, which was seldom, there was always in his mind a vague idea of a central injustice to which he had been subjected, that was to be avoided by circuitous movement, to be hidden by work, but never to be suimounted. And to-night he was going out in the Ptorm, which he could understand and fight, as he had often done before, and he was going to drive a bargain with a man like himself and get the better of him if he could as he had done before, and another day would be gone, and that central injustice which he could pot UBder8tanjl would l?e cirt cumvented. and he would still be hold< iDg hie own in the world. And the Goc of Isra^}, whom he believed in, and wh< was a hard but conscientious Providence something like himself, would assist him perhaps, some day to the understand^ of this same vague injustice which H< was, lor some strange reason, permitting But never more unrelenting and unsparing of others than when under conviction of 6in himself, and never mon harsh and unforgiving than whan fresl from the contemplation of the divint mercy, he still sat there grimly holding his hands to a warmth .that nevei seemed to get nearer his heart than that until his daughter re-entered the roon with his carpet bag. To rise, put on his coat and overcoat secure a fur cap> on his head by a wooler comforter, covering his ears and twined round his throat, and to rigidly offer t square and v eather-beaten cheek to hU daughter's duety kiss, did not, apparently, suggest any lingering or hesitation. The sled was at tlie door, which for a tumultuous moment, opened oe the storm and the white vision of ? horse knee-deep in a drift, and ther closed b. hiud him. Zuloika shot the bolt, brushed 6ome flakes of the invad ing snow from the mat, and, after frugally raking down the fire on the heart! her father had just quitted, retiree through the long passage to the kitchei and her domestio supervision. It was a few hours later; supper hac long passed; the "hands" had one bj 'one returned to their quarters under the roof or in adjacent lofts, and Zulelka and the two maids had at last abandoned the kitchen for their bedrooms beyond. Zulelka herself, by the light of a solitary candle, had entered the office and V>oH /1?v\T\riar1 nnoflitftHrslr fntj"l n. f?hfiir as she slowly raked the warm ashes over the still smoldering Are. The barking of dogs had momentarily attracted her attention, but it had suddenly ceased. It was followed, however, by a more startling incident?a Blight movement outside, and an attempt to raise the window! She was not frightened; perhaps, there was little for her to fear; it wag known that Hays kept no money in the house, the safe was only used for securities and contracts, and there were half-a-dozen men within call. It was, therefore, only her usual active, burning curiosity for novel incident that made her run to the window and peer out; but it was wiitfi a spontaneous cry of astonishment that she turned and darted to the front door and opened it to the muffled figure of a young man. "Jack! Saints aliTe! Why, of all things!" she gasped, incoherently. He stopped her with an impatient gesture, and a hand that prevented her from closing the door again. "Dad ain't here?" he asked, quickly, "No." "When'll he be back?" "Not to-night." "Good," he said, turning to the door again. She could see a motionless horse and sleigh In the road, with a woman holding^the reins. He beckoned to the woman, who drove to the door and jumped out. Tall, handsome, and audacious, she looked at suierua wren a qurcK laugn ot connaence is over some recognized absurditv. "Go in there," 6aid the young man, )pening the door to the office; "I'll come aack in a minute." As 6he entered, still smiling, as if taking part in some humorous but risky situation, he turned quickly to Zuleika xnd 6aid, in a low voice: "Where can sve talk?" The girl held out her hand and glided lurrledly through the passage until she reached a door, which 6he opened. By ?e light of a dying Are he could see it ivas her bed-room. Lighting a candle m the mantel she looked eagerly !n his face as he threw aside his muffler ind opened his coat. It disclosed a jpare, youthful figure, and a thin, weak lace that a budding mustache only seemed to make still more immature. For an instant brother and sister gazed it each other. Astonishment on her part, nervous Impatle'nee on his, ap* parently repressed any demonstration of family affection. Yet when she wai about to speak he stopped her roughly: "There, now; don't talk. I know what you're going to say?could say it mysejl if I wanted" to?and it's no useT Well, then, here I am. You 6aw her. Well, she'B my wife?we've been married three months. Yes, my wife; married thre? months ago. I'm here because I ran away from 6chool?that is, I haven't been there for the last three months, I came out with her last steamer; we went up to the Summit Hotel last night ?where they didn't know me?until we could 6ee how tho land lay, before popping down on dad. I happened to learn that he was out to-night, and I brought her down here to have a talk. We can go back again before ho comes, yoii know, unless " "But," interrupted the girl, with sudden practicality, "you say you ain't beer at Doctor Dawson's for three months! Why, only last week he drew on dad foi $250 for your extras!'' He glanced around him and then arranged his necktie in the glass above the mantel with a nervous laugh. "Oh, that! I fixed that up myself anc got the money for it in New York tt pay our passage with. It's all right you know." chap1ek ii. The girl Htood looking at the ingenu oub forger with an odd, breathless smile It was difficult to determine, however if gratified ouriosity were not its mos' dominant expression. "Add you've got a wife?and that'i her?" 6he resumed. "Yes." "Where did you first meet her? Whi is she?" "She's an actress?mighty popular ii 'Frisco?I mean New York. Lots o chaps tried to get her?I cut 'em out For all dad's trying to keep me at Daw son's?I ain't such a fool, ?th?" Nevertheless, as he stoc d there strok ing his fair mustache, his astuteness di< not seem to impress his 6ister to enthus iastic assent. Yet she did not relax he breathless, inquisitive smile as6he wen on: "And what are vou coins to do abou dad?" He turned upon her querulously. "Well, that's what I want to tall about." "You'll catch it," she said, lmpres sively. But here her brother's nervousnesi broke out in a weak, impotent fury. I was evident, too, that in spite of its ap parent spontaneous irritation its inten was studied. Catch it, would he? Oh yes! Well, she'd see who'd catch it Not him! No, he'd had enough of this meanness, and wanted it ended! H( wasn't a woman, to be treated like hii sister, like their mother, like thei: brother, if it came to that, for he knev how he was to Le brought back to tak< liijah's place in the spring; he'd hearc the whole story. No, he was going tt stand up for his rights?he was goini? U. bo treated like the son of a man whe was worth half a million ought to b< treated! Ho wasn't going to be skimped while his father was wallowing in monej that ho didn't know what to do witl ?money that by right ought to hav< been given to their mother and thei] sister. Why, even the law wouldn'1 Sennit such meanness?if he was dead, fo, he'd come there with Lottie, hie wife, to show his father that there was one of the family that couldn't be foolec and bullied, and wouldn't put up with i1 any longer. There would have to be e fair division of the property^ a?d hU sister Annie's property, and hera-? j Zuleika's?too, if she'd have the pluck to Bpeak up for herself. All this and ' much more he said. Yet even whilo ' his small fury was genuine and char' acteristic, there waB such an evident ln' congruity between himself and his speech that it seemed to fit him loosely, and in a measure flapped in his gestures like another's garment. Zuleika, who had exhibited neither disgust nor sympathy with his rebellion, but had rather appeared to enjoy it as a novel domestio ? ~ ~ ? ? ?? 4-V\ A Af /Ifl. pciiuimaiivjc, Lino uuuiuiiuj ui uovolved 6olely upon the performer, retained her curious smile. And then a ' knock at the door startled them. It was the stranger?slightly apologetic and still humorous, but firm and ' 6elf-confident withal. She was sorry to Interrupt their family council, but the fire was going out where she sat, and she would like a cup of tea or some refreshment. She did not look at Jack, but, completely ignoring him, addressed berself to Zuleika with what seemed to ' be a direct challenge; in that feminine eye-grapple there was a quick, instinctive, and final struggle between the two women. The 6tranger triumphed. Zuleika's vacant smile changed to one of submission, and then, equally ignor' ing her brother in this double defeat, . she hastened to the kitchen to do the visitor's bidding. The woman closed 1 the door behind her and took Zuleika's place before the fire. I "Well," she 6aid, in a half-contemptu' ous toleration. 1 "Well?" said Jack in an equally ill1 disguised discontent, but an evident deI sire to placate the woman before him, "It's all right, you know. I've had my say. It'll come right, Lottie, you'll ' see." ' The woman smiled again and glanced 1 around the bare walls of the loom. 1 "And I suppose," she said dryly, "when it comes right, I'm to take the place of your sister in the charge of this workhouse and succeed to the keys ot ' that sale in tne otner room? 1 "It'll come all right., I tell youj yoix can fix things up here any way you'll like when we get the old man straight," said Jack with the Iteration of feebleness. "And as to that safe, I've seen it chock full of securities." _ [TO BE COWTIBPTO.1 TEMPERANCE.' THZ DMNK FOE YOU. Each flower holds up a dainty cap To catch the rain and dew: Each bonnv gem upon its steir Lets the light in and through. The drink of flower?, distilled in showers, Is ju?t the drink for you. The nightingale that cheers the vale, From crystal streamlets flew On vibrant wings, and when it sing3 Its notes are clear and true. The song-bird's drink should be, I think, The drink for birds like you. The stars so bricht that gem the night, Shining like diamonds through. Are sleepless eyes in sheltering skies, Glancing from curtains blue. They fling their beams upon the streams That flow with drink for you. When Hotfar prayed for rain and shade, A fountain rose in view. For unseen hands had soooped the sands, And brought the water through. Shp wept and smiled and gare her child mc unuft iuai a ^vuu <vi jwu. * * # H * # # "Better than gold is water cold For boys and girls like vou." ?George W. Bungay, in Youth's Banner. THEY GO HAND IN HAND. The saloon and the custom of treatingand I of convivial drinking go hand in hand, mutually creating and maintaining each [ other. Were it not for the practice of treat' Inp, most saloons would be closed for want of business; and the saloon is necessary for treating, as usually practiced.?Sacred Heart 1 Review. HAVE VOU A BOY TO SPABE? To Parent?: The saloon must have boys, or it must shut up the shop. Can't you furnish it one? The saloon is a great, strong factory. Unless it can get about 2.00O.000 boys every generation from somebody's homes, for raw material, some of these factories must close down, aud the moaay in the public treasury must grow less. "Wanted?Two million boy3." is the notice we might read over every distillery, brewery and dramshop. One family out of every Ave ' in the world must contribute at least one boy 1 to keep up the supply.?National Temperance 1 Advocate. ABSTAINER8 THE BEST AECHEBS. Professor HeiD, of Zurich, Switzerland, ' writes with reference to the Swiss archery ; competitions as follows: "The Swiss have ' been distinguished in archery for centuries. 1 I had occasion, a short time ago. to speak with one of these far-famed huntsmen. This i clever marksman assures me that all who ati tain skill in shooting are strictly temperate mon nr Ahstainorw. Even temoerate men [ have to become abstainers about a week before entering into a Bchutzenfest (competition). The besc marksmen not only refrain from alcohol, but live exclusively on milk. 1 butter, cheese and eggs. They must also go I to bed betimes at night, and many of them ' do not smoke tobacco. ALCOHOL IS THE CAUSE OF DISEASE. Alcohol is neither a food nor a medicine? 1 more, it is the chief cause of disease. Sir Andrew Clark says: "I do not desire to i make out a strong case. I am speaking sol) emnly and carefully in the presence of , truth, and I tell you that I am considerably within the mark when I say to you that, going the round of my hospital wards to-day, seven out of every ten there owed their ill health to alcohol." Doctor Higginbottom says: "I consider I shall do more in curing 1 disease and preventing disease in one year ? by prescribing total abstinence than I could t do in the ordinary course of an extensive practice of a hundred years." The deolara, tions of prominent physicians the world over coula be cited, ail going to show that, in health or disease, in old or young, in all climates, the human system is injured by the 3 taking of alcohol, and the amount of injury done is proportionate to the quantity of 3 liquor taken. Five thousand doctors in this ' country have said it. So have more than ^ two thousand in England, and so have the . leading memters in the profession in the other countries .of Europe. It is the fruitful source of diseases of the stomach, lungs, " heart, blood, 6kin, liver, kidneys and ner3 vous system, not to speak of alcoholism and delirium tremens. [ TEMPERA1TOE NEWS AND NOTES. I Every moderate drinker is helping tha j J devil to put bis mark on an army of boys. The devii ha3 a fish on bis hook every time some man says. "I can drink, or/, can let it alone." 1 It is said that Benjamin Franklin, while working as a printer among London beer drinkers, was known as the ''American aquatic," because he drank only water. 3 At the international congress against tha I abuse of alcoholic liquors which recently closal its deliberations in Basle, Switzert land, the believers in total abstinence were , in an overwhelming majority. The nest I congress will be held at Brussels. 3 Statistics gathered and published by GmI brinus, a beer organ of Vienna, Austria, give j th* world's production of beer for 1891 as 5.477,gallon*, or nearly n vo nuu vui hu'f thous'tD'l millions. The Voice calcur lata* thai the beer kegs sufficient to hold this i quantity would belt the earth seven deep at I the equator. } Mr. Ivan E. Gesheff. Minister of Finance > of Bulgaria, in a recent speech pointed out ) that one of the greatest curses of the peas3 antry are the krichim (drinking places), and [ recommended to the committee appointed to r consider ways of bettering their condition the devising of the be3t means of limiting the liquor traffic in that country. South Africa has a village on th? great J. brak River owned by Meesrs. Sa.arlo & Sons, who operate several small factories, in which nearly one hundred hands are employaJ, all > of whom are abstainers. The village has no i liquor, no policemen, and so evenly and I smoothly do all the inhabitants live and [j work together that it is a model villuge. SMALLER SLEEYES. A NOTABLE FEATURE OF TH SEASON'S STYLES. The Enormous Proportions of Las Season's Sleeves to Be Reduced ?Ostrich Tips for Hats?Winter Coats and Jackets. ONE of the notable features < the new styles is the decreai in the 6ize of sleevee. Thei is little probability th" small sleeves will come in for a Ioe time, for the lar(?e ones have bee much more comfortable and easy 1 manage, and everybody is satisfif with them; but last season their eno loons proportions maae n lmposaiu to wear anything in the way of ordii ary wraps, and women who had thoi which were ever so handsome W J compelled to put them aside, an either buy new or get along as be: they could. The latest sleeves droo a little over the elbows, ana are rei Bonably fall at the tops. The straigl portion from wrist to elbow is fair! close-fitting, and is in most of the ne suits entirely untrimmed. Some coi tumes, however, have deep, tarnei back cnfis; others have plaitings; otl ers are trimmed with bows and banc of velvet, and a few have passemei terie or lace. Large puffs from elbows to shou ders are used on dresses of light zr terial; but the tailor costume an cloth drees have the drooping effec just described. Outside garments are, for the mos part, either in jacket shape or in shoi oasque style, with points in the froi and an elaborate arrangement c trimming eet on from shoulder t waist-line. One of the handsomest models c the season is made of black poplin The skirt is the usual flaring shape and the bodice is close-fitting. A jac ket basque has large Jeg-o'-muttoj BEAUTIFUL This strikingly beautiful cape is and the newest garment out for even sleeves and extremely full skirts, fin ished with buckram, and so full as t stand in scallops around the hips jus below the waist. The shoulders an entire front of this jacket are coverei by a cape-shaped arrangement of blao satin, folded in jabot fashion from th neck to the belt on either side of a: elaborately braided vest. This braid ing is one of the features of the nei suits, and is done with heavy mohai braid, about three-fourths of an inc in width, skirts having elaborate d signs on the side seams irom waist line to hem. A trimming which is to be quite lav ishly used is velvet, either in ribboi or in biAs bands tnrned in at the edge and lined with buckram. These band are used to trim the seams of skirts and are also set from the shoulde seams to the waist-line. Velvet collar and cuffs are used on wool fabrics o all sort*, as well as on silk. Lace is to be quite as much used a it has been through the summer Dresses of silk or fine wool ar trimmed with lace, about eight or tei inches deep. This is set on in sbouJ der ruffles and in bertha fashion sometimes it is laid flat and sewe down upon the fabric. TIPS FOB HATS. Nothing is more certain than th popularity of ostrich tip*. Hats, neai ly all, are trimmed with them; th number in each case depending upo the use to which the hat is to be pul Two or tnree are a moaesi numDer, j the chapeau is for general use. Seve or eight are not a large collection if tt hat is for dress occasions. A FRETTY WINTER HAT. There are no favorite fashions ii plume arrangement. The fancy ii for artistic grouping, and the mor picturesque the effect, the more in th mode is it. ' %{\c i These trimmings M make the head covering as large as ever. The "small" bonnets are even larger. E ?or they are oftenest in toqne Tam o' Shanter shape, and the feathers and knots stand out at aggressive angles. The real theatre bonnet for the winter 9t has not appeared, unless we are to suffer from a scourge of these ornamented Tam o' Shanters. Not that they are not very pretty on the woman by one's side; they are. j But, onjthe lady in front of ns, they ,ire 3e not contributorv to our enjoyment of re the stage performance. lt I have hardly seen a prettier winter hat than the one here shown, says the ^ fashion writer of the New York Press. ' It is a black silk beaver, with orna^ mentation of black miroir velvet, four r_ rich black plumes, and a fall of green je blue satin roses over the back hair. a_ These green blue, parrot green, navy blue roses, seemed odd enough at the i i i - r xi. 1 i i.U fe oeginmng- 01 tue beason, uut mcy uu 'jj longer appear objectionable, j "Madmoiselle's hair is arranged in a largo soft knot at the back of the ? head. The portion which is curled ^ and caught over the ear3 is the same straight hair which was parted in the ^ summer, and drawn down to conceal a_ them entirely. Fashion has concluded that her yonng charges are not suited j. by plain madonna effects. Is WINTER COATS, CAPES AND JACKETS. Velvet is a very great favorite in L- the making of fall and winter capes, t- jackets, cloaks and redingotes, black d velvet particularly, though the deep :t shades in brown and green will ba used. Far edgings and spangled it bauds and points are the garnitures, t There are very few medium lengths it in coats; they are either sh >rt or long, >f and the puzzle as to how the jacket or o coat wa3 to go on over the immense dress sleeves has in a measure been >f solved by the introduction.of stylish, i. elegantly fitted models, that are sleeve>, less, this omission concealed by a s- pretty cape that nearly reaches the a waist. For unpleasant weather this ^!|^t. lND novel cape. novel in design, elaborate in embroidery icg wear, over big sleeves. i- will button across, so that tbe cape o cannot fly open, thus making a very it comfortable cool weather garment, d The redingotes of plain ladies' cloth, d fancy diagonal, rongh checks and k English cheviot in various patterns e .will be very fashionably worn daring n the winter. These have, immense ; cape or sailor collars covered with v | braid and edged with fur, and large r I Cromwellian cuffs likewise trimmed. It 1 t. A COVEHT COAT. if I 71 All men find it necessary to have a 'e light coveri coat among their stock of outer garments, and the well gowned ? ; woman, who prides hersel. upon alj ways having the correct thing to wear, I - ~ Imivii nna nni?ft if Tint, t.wief! H Vear. uun VXAJO Uuu vsuwvs *- ? J 1 Just now the style for these coats is ! to have them quite short, with skirts ! at the back fall enough to allow the I skirts of the gown to stand out well, loose fronted and buttoned under a J flan, and with tho front so cleverly i cut that the curve from bust to hip is not distinguished. reus T( UE I i EN EI? ALLY CSED. It is more than probable that furs f will be again most popular this seaeon, judging from a hat one sees at the leading fashion emporiu. Furs are not only seen on mantles and jackets for outdoor wear, but are used to trim costumes of every description. Sable, as usual, is tho ultra favorite, but blue fox and silver _ fox are also much patronized. There a are, of couree, cheaper furs than the s above mentioned, which are very e effective and decidedly more within e , reach of ladies whose purses are not j elastic. * POPULAR SCIENCE* j Bicyoles were substituted for horsea I in a recent bullfight in Spain. J Tobacconists generally blame tha ;'Jj| bicycle for the lessenod demand for -am cigars. I The great advantage in electric/deposition is that almost any metal may . I be deposited upon glass. j A Minnesota girl of fifteen can dig- -J tinguish no color, everything being 1 white to her, and she is compelled to 0 wear dark glasses to protect her from the glare. The firemen of San Francisco are -A experimenting-with a new respirator, " ? or air filter, by means of which, they j are enabled to work forty-fire minutes & in dense smoke without suffocation. Experiments have shown that mild hcurrents of electricity may have a beneficial effect on the growth of, ^ plants, but, of course, a heavy charge; will kill a plant ]ust as lightning will ' J kill a tree. >> Elfectricians say that a trolley car is by ail odds tne saiest place to oe iouna ia a thunder storm. The wire and trolley pole serve as a perfect protec-, tion, and a car has never yet beea/ ? known to be injured by lightning. Although a rubber horseshoe been invented for use on icy pavements, nothing satisfactory seems to wj| have been fonnd for horses compelled to travel upon wet asphalt. It is noticeable that horses accustomed to asphalt learn the triok of stepping caiefully, as men learn to walk with stif- v* iened ankles on ice. Why Latin is Used by Doctors. .'p| 4,I don't see," said the man who waa leaning against the drag store counter, "why a doctor can't write his prescriptions in English, instead of Latin." I The druggist paid : ' 'Yon think, I suppose, that the doctor writes hie.v prescription in Latin so it can't be read so easily?so the layman can't steal his trade and iearn what he is . giving him. But that's all wrong. In 1 the first place, Latin i? a more exact vj and concise language than English, * ' and, being a dead language, does not -j change, as all living languages do. . "Then, again, since a very large "'.j part of all the drugs in use are botan-'(**l ical, they have in the pharmacopeia the same names that they have in bot- ft any?the scientific names. Two-thirds of such drugs haven't any Eaglifh i names, and so couldn't be irritten ;in/K?9 English. v "But suppose a doctor did write a prescription in English for an unedu- ] cated patient. The patient reads it,, : thinks he remembers it and so tries to ?| get it filled from memory the second time. Suppose, for instance, it called for iodide of potassium and he got confused with cyanidte of potassium. .''74 He could safely take ten grains of the ** first, but ,one grain of the second would kill him as dead as a mackerel. That's an exaggerated case, but it will > serve for an illustration. Don't you , ^ see how the Latin is a protection and a safeguard to the patient? Prescript b> tions in Latin he can't read, and con? eequently does not try to remember. "Now for a final reason. Latin is a language" that is used by scienti&oT{f| men the world over, and no other lan-, guage is. You can get a Lfctin prefilial 4n mt f?nnntrv on thft JtA face of the earth where there is a drag . 7? store. We had a prescription com& in here the other day which we had. Put up originally, and which had eince been stamped by druggists in Lou- ''/> don, Paris, Berlin, Constantinople, Cairo and Calcutta. What good would an English prescription be in St * Petersburg?" "Got any good tooth powder asked the man leaning against thfr 'iffi coutter.?New York Herald* The Bauana Trade. Daring the first six months of th* current year more than 10,000,000 / bunohes of bananas have been sold in - I the United States, and since about ? sixty vessels are engaged in carrying V J this fruit to onr markets, and from ^ fifty to a hundred men are employed. . $ in unloading each cargo as it arrives, / tbe banana business now proosoiy takes rank as the leading branch m the fruit trade. The great increase in the consumption of bananas is due '<1 to the fact that the country fruit >/'$ stores can dispose of them more read- " ' . ; ily than other kinds of fruit on account of their cheapness, and many country merchants have built ripen-, ^ ing rooms for the frnit when reoeived by them in a green state. According to the Fruit Trade Journal, the arrangements for receiving and discharging cargoes are more systematic *4 AI ?*/**<! Ill new uneaua man auj umgi |/v>n of this country. The vessels there vj unload immediately on arrival at anT time of day or night, and the railroads give special attention to ship* ments, so that the banana trains oftea leave New Orleans and make as good time as passenger trains to their des~ tination. In 1891 New Orleans for -4 the first time received more bananas > than New York, but already in the first half of the year her importations /: excelled those of New York by mor* than 800, COD bunches. Mobile ranks . as the third port in the number of bunches received, while Philadelphia ' and Boston compete cloeely for the - j ! fourth place. A Mysterious Treasure Trove. ' . v' $2 Last winter two boys of Litchfield, 3 111.. found buried in a lane near that I place a jug, in which was a chart show- t ' ing a windmill, a country road and a pathway leading to a large stone in & pasture. Taking the windmill on Robert McWilliams' larm in the east part of town as the one designated, 't_ j the boys located the road, pathway nuil stone. After dig?iu<? two or tbreer Lours aud finding nothing, they tor& ' up the chart and gave up without mentioning their discovery to anybody. One night recently some parties duga hole nine feet deep, six feet long and four feet wide on the spot. Next morning A. J. Duncan, a tenant of McWilliams's, found the^hole aud in it % a part of the handle of an iron chest. There were evidences of a heavy safe or box having been dragged to the road, where it is supposed a vehicle was in waiting. What the treasure was no one knowe, though most people imagine the chest must havo contained untold riches.?New Orleans Ficayune. ( J