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( THE REb CROSS. too have heard the drum-beat. They follow the bugle's call, These who are swift with pity On tb field where brave men falL Wheu the battle-boom Is silent. And the echoing thunder dies, They haste to the plain red sodden With the blood of sacrifice. The flag that floats above them Is marked with a crimson sign, Pledge of a great compassion And the rifted heart divine, That once for man's redemption Knew earth’s completest loss, These to the field of valor Bring love’s immortal cross. And so they follow the bugle. And heed the drum-beat’s call, But their errand is one of pity— They succor the men who fall. —Harper’s Bazar. THE YELLOW GOD. J BT LEAVENWOHTIt MACNAB. j t" Tom Jenkins ran his hand through tbe gold that lay heaped on the floor of the shack. “Seems to me, Billy,” he said, slowly, “that hopin’ to find ft is better ’n findin’ it.” Dull gleams of light from a smoky kntern fell athw art the face of the old Miner, rugged,homely, deep-furrowed time and hardships, and offering a Marked contrast, indeed, to the haud- wme, patrician features of Billy •uley, his junior partner. . ^Findin’, Billy, means quittin’. • ■ end to the wants an’ privations I’Ve knowed for nigh twenty years. somehow, I’ve come to like these ■till ole mountains, an’ the singin’ of fee pines, an’ the river. They’ve »owed like friends, an’ I’m never lonesome among ’em. Listen! you mu hear ’em now. Maybe it’s the las’ Hcne they’ll ever sing fer me.” “We’re goin’ back to civ’lization,” •ontinned Tom, unheeding the other’s feck of sympathy with his reminiscent Mood, “an’ that means separation. I know you like me, Billy. A feller •uuldn’t want a better pardner than you’ve been fer the two year I’ve knowed you. But with yer eddica- tkm, an’ yer young blood, an’ yer am bitions, you ain’t my kind in civ’liza- tion. We can t he the same clown feere. I couldn’t expect it. But I think a powerful deal of you, Billy. “Oh, come, Tom,” broke in his •ompanion, impatiently, “you’re in fee dumps tonight, fake a walk and brace up. Should think you’d look on the bright side of things now. We’ve worked and starved in these cursed wilds for gold, until at last we’ve got it. Think of the city’s ten thousand pleasures that this stake can buy for us. There’s no life in these solitudes. It’s there in the crowded streets, and it can be ours when we’ve got such a god—the god of gold—to ■ee us through.” Billy laughed gloatingly in anticipa tion. Then once more he fixed his ayea aith-a. glittering intensity on the yellow heap, which meant for him all that life can mean to a selfish, love- lack nature. “But it ain’t fer me,” persisted Tom. “I’m past them things. If it wa’n’t fer the hope of findin’ the old woman down there in Frisco an’ mak- ia’ her comfortable, I’d stay. I don’t care fer the gold after all. I’ve found it, an’ my hungerin’ fer it’s satisfied.” Billy made no answer. He had long since become resigned to the di versity of their tastes, and tonight he Was in no mood for argument. He got out some materials, and began to repair a rent in bis coat. Tom rose presently, and dumped the nuggets into a gunny-sack. Then he arranged his blankets for the night. “Put it away safe, Billy,” he said, jocularly; “we’re already on the edge of civ’lization, an’ must learn to be pertickler.” “I’ll look after it, never fear,” said the other, shortly; “good-night.” Billy finished his task, but his mind was still busy with thoughts of the future. He rose and stepped ont into the night. At his feet the turbulent I A river rushed blackly along, its foaiu- crests gleaming like dull silver in the dear starlight. Behind him towered in silent majesty the rugged, wooded Mountains. The air was heavy with B ■ the breath of the pines. But Billy •aw none of the beauty of the night. BL The mountains awakened memories of ^KvJ^P hardships and hopelessness; the river was only a highway to civilization. He Mt his pipe, and began to pace up and iown the shelving shore. There was none of the stuff of which heroes are made in Billy Bailey’s "com position. Had the fates seen fit to continue their kindly beginning, he would probably have developed into •ne of tjie horde of whited sepulchres that so largely make up what the world is pleased to term the respect able ol humanity—those who observe the conventions to the letter, indulge every desire with a studied care that wins the approval of men, and dying •re respectfully bnried and speedily forgotten. On the contrary, fate had preferred giving Billy a chance to prove his mettle. His college career cut short by the melting away oi his father’s fortune, he awoke one morn ing to find himself face to face with the world, his wits his only ^apital. He remembered tonight his struggles to maintain his social position; the slights heaped upon him by erstwhile boon companions; the gradual sinking away of hope, until, with starvation staring him in the face,he had shipped in a vessel bound “’round the Horn.” On his lips were angry phrases for the friends who had failed him; in his heart a resolve some day to retaliate. He recalled hie hardships on the Western frontier, hie fluel felling .'n with old Torn Jenkins, and the hope less search for gold nntil a week ego, when the grevel of e dried-np moan- tain stream unexpectedly yielded them ?! I i ! \ their little fortune and ended for him the wretched existence in these soli tudes. His future course was plain. Mercilessly he would engage in the war for wealth. His heart must know but one love—the love of gold. And the stake! it was not so much after all. If he only had Tom’s share, too! The thought startled him, and he looked furtively about as though already under surveillance. Well, why not? The old man cared nothing for gold—he had said as much. Why not begin the task of wealth-gather ing tonight, and doable hia fortune by a single coup? The skiff was all ready for the morrow’s journey down the river. He could easily reach North Fork by daylight, and miles of dis tance would lie between him and Tom before the latter could make the trip across the almost impassable mountain trail. He weakened for a moment as he thought of Tom’s almost motherly solicitude—of how throughout their wanderings the big-hearted miner had borne the brunt of the struggle. Even when the treasure was discovered the old man’s first words were: “I’m glad for your sake, Billy.” Then he asked himself if he, too, was growing senti mental, and tonight, of all nights, on the very eve of battle. He walked back to the house. Tom was fast asleep. The flickering light of the lantern fell aslant the corner where he lay, his powerful form half swathed in the tattered blankets, his brawny arms thrown above bis head. I he face, from which sleep seemed to have smoothed away the deep furrows, mirrored the rugged honesty of his heart. But the touching picture meant nothing to Billy, who watched the sleeper for an instant, and then pro ceeded to put his cowardly scheme into effect. It was but the work of a few minutes to gather together the things necessary for the short journey down the river, and to secure the treasure for safe transportation. There was a look of cunning triumph on his face as he completed his preparations. He was thinking of the surprise await ing Tom, who had been “fool enough to believe in human friendship.” He made a cautions step toward the door of the shack, when a slight noise, real or fancied, caused him to glqnce back over his shoulder. The next in stant the bag of gold crashed to the floor, while Billy sank on his knees as though felled by a blow. Tom was sitting bolt upright in bed,his revolver leveled at Billy’s heart. The two gazed at each other itf utter silence. Billy’s eyes, fixed with the penetration born of despair, scanned the old man’s face, and read there reproach and pity, rather than a thirst for swift revenge. This somewhat reassured him, and he rose to his feet. “Well,” he said, bluntly, “what do you intend to do?” “So,” said Tom,with a long breath, “I wnz mistook in you, after all. To think that I give you my friendship an’ yon wa’n’t worth it What be I going to do? What do men nsu’lly do when a pardner turns thief?” “You wouldn’t shoot me, Tom?” “Why not? Men’s been killed fer less ’an this an’ the world wuz well red of ’em.” Then it did mean death. As Billy realized this his face turned ashen pale, while a palsying terror struck through him, rending his bravado mask and revealing him as the pitiable dastard he was. He cowered before the old man, pleading hysterically. “Oh, spare me, spare me, Tom. You said you cared nothing for gold, while 1—I was mad with love of it. It is my god—my heaven—my everything. But take it, take it all—only give me my life —Tom—I—I—can’t—die. ” “Git up,” commanded the other, coldly, “don’t make me despise you worse’n I do. What would you do if you wuz in my place? Shoot, wouldn’t you? You’d kill me now if you had the chance.” “But think, Tom, what life means to me; I’m young and ” “Think what friendship meant to me, Billy. I’m old.” In the momentary silence that followed, the pines and the river could be heard singing their old, old song, unheeding of the strife of mor tals for a scrap of the treasure they guarded. Tom heard the song, and his bitterness seemed to go out with the weird melody. The hand that held the weapon dropped listlessly to his side. “I’ll spar’ yer life,”he said hoarsely; “yon kin go.” Billy stood a moment as though he had not heard. “Yer free. Go!” said Tom. The boy glanced from the old man to the bag of gold, and then turned slowly toward the doorway. “You better take yer pile now,” said Tom, quietly, “as I reckon you won’t be cornin’ back.” “Do you mean it?” gasped Billy. “Certainly; half’s yourn, ain’t it? There's only one thief in this camp, an’—it ain’t me.” Tom proce?ded to open the bag, and roughly divided the contents. “You can take the boat, that goes with your half. As fer me,” he added, in a voice that wavered in spite of himself, “I’ll do what I’d ’a’ done if you’d ’a’ robbed me. I’ll stay awhile longer with the mountains an’ the river. They’re uncertain sometimes, an’ sometimes dangerons, bat most- wise they’re better’n men.” , Billy vagnely appreciated the nature of the man with whom he was deal ing, yet he felt that such nobleness required some acknowledgment. He sprang forward, and tried to grasp the old man’s hand. “No, no—not that!” cried Tom, fiercely. “Don’t touch me. The gold is yonrn. Take it and go. Bnt go quickly, Billy—fer I’m only human.”—San Francisco Argonaut. The value nf a ton of r— r/>ld is $800,000,000. PONCE IS A METBOPOLIS. FIRST CITY CAPTURED IN PORTO \ RICO BY THE AMERICANS. In population It la tha I.arjrest Place on th^ Island, but, Coinineralatly, ft In Second in Importance to Snn Juan—In Probably the Healthleat Spot on Inland. “Military Notes on Porto Bico,’’pre pared br the war department for the informatidn of the army, conttins the following description of Ponce: A city of f2,000 inhabitants, with a jurisdiction timbering 47,000. making it the most populous on the island. It is situated on the south coast of the to having the streets pressed out island, on a plain, about two miles by bicyclists they have passed an or- from the seaboard. It is the chief ; diuanee forbidding any one riding on the sidewalks. Mrs. B. either did not know this or she did not care; she took to the walk SHE WOULDN’T BE ARRESTED. How a St. 1’nul Wnmitn Polled n “Nnnty, Mean Policeman.** A very charming St. Paul woman who makes her summer home j»t White Bear, Minn., routed the police force of that village after a brief encouuter a few days ago. Mrs. B. rides a bicycle, of course, and w hen it became necessary for her to go to the grocery or the postoflice or wherever it was that she had to go she, of course, monuted her w heel. Now, at times the streets in the vil lage of White Bear are not the real thing for wheeling, and the town an. thorities know the same. With a view fiat town of the judicial district of its name, and is seventy miles from San Juan. It is regularly built, the cen tral part almost exclusively of brick houses and the suburbs of wood. It is the residence of the military com mander, and the seat of an official chamber of commerce. There is an appellate criminal court, besides other courts; two churches, one Protestant, said to be the only one in the Spanish West Indies, two hospitals besides the military hospital, a home of refuge for old aud^poor, two cemeteries, three asylums, several casinos, three theatres, a market, a municipal public library, three first- class hotels, three barracks, a park, gas works, a perfectly equipped fire department, a bank, thermal and nat ural baths, etc. Commercially, Ponce is the second city of importance on the island. A fine road leads to the port (Playa), where all the import and export trade is transacted. Playa has about 5000 inhabitants, and here are aituated the custom house, the office of the cap tain of the port, and all the consular offices. The port is spacious and will hold vessels of twenty-five feet draft. The climate, on account of the sea breezes during the day and laud breezes at night, is not oppressive, but hot and dry ; and, as water for all purposes, including the fire depart ment, is amply supplied by an aque duct 4442 yards long, it is said that the city of Ponce is perhaps the health iest place in the whole island. There is a stage coach to San Juan, Maya- guez, Gunyama, etc. There is a rail road to Yauco, a postoffice and a tele graph station. It is believed that Ponce was founded in 1600 ; it was given the title of villa in 1848, and in 1877 that of city. Of its thirty-four streets the best are Mayor, Salud, Villa, Vives, Mari and Comeicio. The best squares Principal and Las Delicias, which an separated by the church of Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe. The church, as old as the town itself, began to be reconstructed in 1838 and was finished in 1847. It is eighty-six yards long by forty-three broad and has two stee ples, rich altars, and fine ornaments. The Protestant ehnroh is of gothic^ architecture, of galvanized iron ont"* side and wood within; it was bnilt in 1874. The town hall, which also serves as a jail, is a good two-story bniltling of masonry, and was finished in 1877. There are two barracks, one for in fantry, with a capacity for 700 men, and another for cavalry. The former was constrncted in 1849 and is two)' stories high, while the latter is a one- story structure belonging to the muni cipal council. The military hospital, of uf&soury, is situated on ^astillo street, and bus a capacity for seventy patients. The smallpox and pestilential hospitals are more simple and are situated outside . the city limits. The albergne de Tri- coche (hospital) was built with money left by Valentin Tricoche for this pur pose in 1863. It is in the northern part of the town, is built of masonry on the doric order, with a porch sup ported by doric columns. It has a capacity for sixty persons. The Damas asylum is built of ma sonry, with an elegant porch, iron gate and garden at its entrance. It is maintained by money left by various persons and by other charitable means, and will accommodate twelve men and twelve women, having besides four beds designed for sick seamen. The theatre is called the Pearl and it deserves tL’s name, for it is the finest on the island. It has a sculp tured porch, on the Byzantine order, with graceful columns. It is mostly built of iron and marble and cost over 70,000 pesos. It is fifty-two yards deep by twenty-nine wide. The in side is beautiful, the boxes and seats roomy and nicely decorated. It may, by a mechanical arrangement, be con verted into a dancing hall. About one and one-eighth miles northeast of the town are the Qnin- tana thermal baths, in a building sur rounded by pretty gardens. They are visited by sufferers from rheumatism and various other diseases. The city of Ponce proper has no military defenses, but in the hills to the north of the town a series of earth intrenchments have lately been con structed. West of Ponpe, where the railroad and military road touch the shore, earthworks have been con- strncted to guard this strategic point. There are aboat thirty mountain how itzers in Ponce available for defense of the city and the railroad. Anotnalle* of Telegraphing. A London paper comments interest ingly on the anomalies of the British postoflice in the matter of telegraph rates, and observes that the chargee for certain words in telegrams are so conflicting as to be quite incompre hensible. While, for instance, “father- in-law” counts as two words, “moth er-in-law” is passed as one. Similarly, “ironworks,” in the mind of the post- office, is one word, and “steelworks” is counted as two. “Up-stairs” and “down-stairs” are treated in the same inexplicable manner and rode down town. She lelt her wheel outside and went into the stove, ami when she came out she found herself confronted by the dignitary who is the whole thing in police circles—the man who is to the police department what the lone manner was to the Nancy brig. He said to the lady: “Ion are under an ed.’’ She looked at him and made a dash for her wheel which he had captured. He retired before the onslaught in disorder, and she got the wheel. “I am what?” she demanded. “You are under arrest for riding on the walk.” “Bnt I won’t be under arrest,” she said. “But yon are,” he said. “I am nothing of the kind. You mind your own business.” “But, mum, it is my business, and you must go to the justice’s office with me, or promise that you will be there at 0 o’clock in the morning.” “I won’t do anything of the kind.” “But 1 tell you I arrest you.” “And I tell you I won’t be arrested. There you are. Now, what are you going to do about it?” “Oh, come on, now; come to the justice’s office.” “I won’t do it. I’ll pay a fine, if that’s what yon want. How much is it?” “I don’t take the fine. You must go to the justice,’’said the unfortunate copper. “Where’s the justice, then?” “He’s down on the bridge, lishin’, I guess. Won’t you promise to be on hand in tbe morning?” “No, I won’t!” “Then I’ll have to arrest yon.” “And I tell you I won’t be arrested and I’m going home.” The copper scratched his head and looked aS though he was going to make another sally on the bicycle. Mrs. B. got aboard of the wheel. “You’re a nasty, mean thing, and I’m going to tell my husband that you said I was arrested,” she said, and •he rode off and the copper went down n the bridge and helped the justice fed the crowd that had gathered e him the laugh. THE TORPEDO IN WAR. Disastrous Effect In an Encounter Off the Coast of Chill. One of the conspicuous elements of torpedo’s value is the fear which use excites. The fact that its lo tion is secret and its attacks well- nigh irresistible gives it a power of intimidation out of all proportion to its actual potency and makes fleets un willing to face it It caused terror and demoralization at the battle of Lis8a,and later,in the Franco-German war of 1871, the French fleet was ac tually frightened out of Prussian ports by the rumor and belief that numer ous torpedoes had been planted for their reception. A striking instance of the effectiveness of the torpedo is found in the sinking of the Blanco Encalada in Chili from injur ies thus inflicted during the revolution of 1891. The whole of President Bal- maceda’s fleet present had joined, the insurgents when suddenly his two •wift torpedo vessels, the Lynch and Condell, arrived at Valparaiso. They were armed with two 14-pounder guns and four torpedo tubes. They imme diately attacked the Blanco Encalada, and the ironclad was taken completely by surprise. She had no protective net out, and no gnard boats were pa trolling, while a portion of the crew was on shore. After two or three futile attempts the Lynch approached the Encalada within 50 yards and discharged a torpedo, which struck the ironclad abreast the engine room. The explosion was tremendous. Many were killed, and the ship keeled over and sank in five minutes. The tor pedo used carried a charge of about 60 pounds of guncotton. Neither of the attacking boats was injured, and this fact and the demonstration that •nch a charge of guncotton striking a vessel in a vital part is irresistible, combined to give to the torpedo a prominence in naval equipment and warfar e which it had uot before pos sessed.— Frank ' Leslie’s Popular Monthly. Ani-lr.Sason Bravery. When the attack was made on Si- don, during tbe war with Syria, it be came necessary for the British tr oops to advance across a long, unprotected bridge, in the face of a battery of six guns which completely commanded the approach. The men were unwill ing to expose themselves to certain death, when Arthur Gumming, care fully dressed in full uniform, stepped forward to the middle of the bridge. It was immediately swept by the fire of the battery. When the smoke had rolled away, there stood (htmming in tact, carefully brushing the dost from his boots, after which he stood erect, fixed a single glass in bis eye and looked back at the men. This was too Much, and they captured that bridge and battery with a whoop.—San Fran cisco Argonaut Sweater# Eor Children. Every wee baby, girl or boy, to be strictly up to date, should have a sweater for its perambulator spins. In case of a sudden cool Phenge the sweater is easily slipped on over baby’s clothes. White, pale pink and sky blue are the favorite colors. Uathlng u Ooori Coametie. Bathing is positively the beat cos metic in the wor’d, and any physician will tell you so. Regular hours for eating, and abstinence from rich food is the next best, and regular hours for sleeping will come third. The girl who tries the recipe for throe months can throw away powder and rouge pot on the garbage heap, and look to be her own granddaughter when she reaches three-score and ton. A Won! About Chesp Sllki. “Cheap silks are not worth having at any price,” said a wise shopper; “and so I approve of haunting sales for this one special thing. Don’t buy the tints and designs that are espe cially fashionable this season. They will go out of style, and even a hand some silk of turquoise blue, wheu all the world is wearing peach-yellow will seem out of date and dowdy. Stand ard shades are safer and just as pretty.” Princess Beatrice us a t.ace Cleaner. The Princess Beatrice is not only a skilled lacemaker, but has wonderful knowledge of lace cleaning. Some years since she delivered a lecture at the South Kensington Institute, Lou don, on laces which contained some valuable hints as to their care. When, once upon a time, in an old chest at Windsor Castle, she found some price less lace, believed to bave belonged to Queen Elizabeth, she would trust no one with its restoration, and the work of repairing and cleaning was done under her own personal supervision, part of it by her own hands. For Water Nymphs. Combinations of bathing slippers and hose are now used quite commonly and with comfort. The separate bath ing shoes must be tied on by one or more sets of strings, which are not only liable to come off or break, but are binding on the ankles. The com bination hose and shoe keeps the shoe on the foot and leaves fee ankle free. Some of these combinations have a slipper vamp, while ethers merely have a heavy sole to the stocking. The stocking part of the combina tion is made in varying lengths from the ordinary knee length to opera lengths. With a black bathing suit, these last are very appropriate and comfortable as well as neat. A Dainty Mantle. A dainty little mantle which can be made by the skillful amateur without much trouble is of wliite silk, falls long in the back, and longer in the front than at the side, where it reaches to the bend of the elbow; there is a poke pointed back and front cat in one, with a Medici collar, and this is striped horizontally with jet. The rows are pretty close. At the edge of the man tle there is a pinked out frill of white silk, with a heading, and with it is gathered a narrow lace of the same width. This is met by the wider flounce, set in at the yoke, and the edge falling loosely over the heading of the frill. The depth of the back depends upon the width of the flounce, which must be shortened on the shoulder, but it need not be cut. The over-depth should be turned in where the yoke and the mantle meet. This mantle is exceedingly smart. Care of (lie Hair. To keep the hair clean and silky it must be brushed often and regularly —no amount of combing will produce a like effect. Provide yourself with a brush of the finest bristles, which must be long enough to penetrate the hair to the scalp. Never use a wire brash, and a comb should be nsed only in arranging the hair. First wash the hair in lukewarm water with a few drops of ammonia, or a fine quality of soap may be used. Bbampoo the head thoroughly, using a nailbrush, kept for the purpose, to cleanse the scalp. Rinse well in clear water, or, if the hair is harsh and dry by nature, use a little glycerine in the rinse water, and if very moist a little gly cerine and borax may be nsed. Rub the head and hair as dry as possible with a coarse towel, then allow it to hang over the shoulders and brush with a soft brush till thoroughly dry. At bedtime the hair should be un fastened and brushed for five or ten minutes, then gathered into a loose braid, which will give free access to the air. Hair that is brushed regu larly night and morning, if only for a few minutes at a time, will require less frequent washing, and, mean while, will be clean and glosey. Too much washing renders the hair harsh and dry. It is very beneficial to clip the ends of the hair once a month, after it has been brushed smoothly down the back. After this, all the forked ends that remAiu should be dipped.—Phil adelphia Times. Tbs Vann It is well known that a loose and •acj dress oontribnes much to give the sex the line proportions of the bodj that are observable in the Grecian statues, niul which serve as models to our present artists, nature beiug too much disfigured among us to afford any such. The Greeks knew nothing of those Gothic shackles, tka f multi plicity of ligatures and bandages, with which our bodies are compressed; then women were ignorant of the use ol whalebone stays, by which ours distort their shape instead of displaying it. This practice, carried to so grout an excess as it is, must, in time, degen erate the species, and is au instance of bad taste. Can it be a pleasant sight to behold a woman cut in two in the middle, as it were, like a wasp? On the contrary, it is as shocking to the eye as it is painful to tbe imagination. A fine shape, like a limb, hath its due size and proportion, a diminution of which is certainly a defect. Such a deformity also would be shocking in • naked figure; wherefore, then, should it be esteemed a beauty in one that is dressed. Everything that confines and lays nature under a restraint is an in stance of bad taste. This is as true in regard to the ornaments of the body hh to tbe embellishments of the mind. Life, health, reason and convenience ought to be taken first into considera tion. Gracefulness cannot subsist without ease; delicacy is not debility, nor must a woman be sick in order to please.—New York Ledger. The Details of Dress. Any one who closely observes the little details of dress cannot fail to note bow many and wide-spreading the gathers are in the rear of the new est skirts, what a number of novel shapes are given to the waists of even ing dresses, where they are cut over the shoulders, and that ropes of beedu are worn about white necks at dances. A striking throat garniture, aud one of the most costly a woman can now dis play, is a doable row of opal beans strung on a silver wire and with disea of crystal between the beaus. Emer alds,’, topaz, amethyst and the dozen and one varieties of semi-precious stones now so greatly in demand are all cut to resemble small beans and flexibly wired for the neck. Nothing in the way of a jewelled neck ornament I is worn high and dose; from the has* of the throatjmd ‘ on tbs chest aU AU signs point to continued nse of ax cessively high trimmings about fee necks of daylight costumes. Long- necked women pass broad ribbons about their throats twice, and then ty ing a flaring bow under the chin, pin the loops and ends so that they stick out like a double pair of wings under the ears. Another attractive method is to gather great rosettes of the crisp iest black or white tulle in the side of the collar so that the ears are almost concealed in the downy clouds that puff out high before them. A new sleeve for cloth dresses is designed to accentuate the length of the wearer’s arm, for a slim, long arm is as highly prized these days as a long slender waist. Some of these cloth, cotton and silk sleeves do not permit of the arm being thrush through them, except half way to the elbow. A line of little hooks and eyes run along under the sleeve from a space six inches from tbe armpit clear to the wrist. By this means an apparently seamless casing of material fits the arm as close as the wearer’s skin, aud the sleeve is curi ously cut on the bias to help out this effect and to get tbe correct, extended fit well out on the hand. Just a fold or a flat epaulet tops the shoulder.— New York Sun. Seen In the Stores. Silk watch chains set with jewels. Separate skirts of linen grenadine. Light-weight felt hats for traveling. Net veils having an embroidered edge. Taffetas in bayadere and lace pat terns. Silk shirt waists in fine stripes. Broad collars of embroidery for children. Broken-block patterns for silk shir) waists. Misses’ Leghorn hats trimmed with feathers. Very narrow jet and silk cord passe menteries. Plaid ribbon effects in narrow band trimmings. Sun bonnets for babies, girls and golf players. White glace gloves with narrow black stitching. White shirt waists trimmed .with embroidery for tiny boys. Yellow and mode chamois gloves as well as the favorite white. Teagowns of veiling or China crepe in accordion plaits lined with silk. Shell combs with projecting arms that dispense with fee necessity of hairpins. Many stamped linen dining and tqilet-feble pieces for embroidering wife silk. Exquisite patterns of heavy Irish lace for flat trimmings snch as yokes, stoles, etc. Eton jackets wife long fichu fronts of silk, veiling, cashmere, etc., for dressing saoqnes.. * ||§ hairline