The people. (Camden, S.C.) 1904-1911, November 03, 1904, Image 2
How to Bring Up &
By Kate Thorn.
tifttl child a pom tfco fheo at tho Mrtlit' Look apo* Us
eighth woofer at tk? woridl T?U everybody so. Kwp tefflig
tk?s oo until he. to bis wmigt to hoar tad understand, for ho
*wM not ho salmi to (row np In ifcnornnoe of his own 1?
portanoo.
Mm with sugar plums when lie ertea. II will tsach hta
V sore eucar plum. It wUl give him ? homUm
, k wenlte. H# outfit to cry. Hecvlthy children ?hrtyi
Is healthy to listen to them. Crying develops (he lUf tiih cf
??. imptkm. ?
Always let him here kkm way. If yon do not. It wltt break his spirit
tmd What h t boy good tor ^hoee epirit has been broken?
monm'i heed was not level when he said: **8pare the rod and spoil the
fchlld. Probably his brain was Softening- Never command him to do any
fc> Ash him to do It if he pleeaes; but If bo doeent please, never oblige
to. It might rouse his temper, and give him an attack of colic or tndt*
If he ebould become disobedient or impudent, as perhaps he nay
children are liable to?consult a doctor at once. If yon fee this gentleman
well, be will tell yon that the child has "too much brain; large mtntol
smthrity; a mind of nausea, precocity," etc.. all of which will be plsasaat
for you to hear, since it will giveyou the Idea that you hare brought a genius
to to the world. He will tell you that the child mustn't be crossed. . Ton
most be careful how you deny him what he wants. Must not let him get
?ngry. Let htm have hie way.
After he gets older, he will be likely to learn the manly science of pro
fanity and the gentlemanly accomplishments of drinking and gambling.
Well, youthful spirits must be run off In some .way?must have oome
outlet. Say, as thousands have said before you, that you would rather have
twio knaves than one fool in the family. Thst is a very nice way of putting
It, and e>n*cllng, too. . ?
Make much of his bright sayings. Repeat them to your friends. If they
don't see wit In them. It Is because they haven't brains enough to see wit In
anything.
Let them begin young to order the servant, so as "to get his hand in."
Qhre him all the money he wants to spend. Let him go cut etenlngs. Don't
tie him to his mother's apron strings and make a milksop of him.
If he calls you "governor," and hie mother, "the old gal," don't reprove
film. It Is only young America cropping out and isn't America "the land of
the free and the home of the brave?"
Get him a revolver by the time he is ten. *o that he may be ready for
emergencies?a watoh, and a revolver, by all means. At eighteen he will
need a fast horse and a betting bock.
Persevere in this course, and by <the time he is twenty-five the world
will have heard from him at the end of a rope, cr In Congress?nobody can
foresee which. x
In this domestic country who can predict results??New York Weekly.
The Folly of Being Born Poor
By Addison Fox, Jr.
AN ta guilty of much that is Incompetent and stupid and in bad
taste. He to miserably unskilful in places where it would be
reasonable to expect from him a certain measure of acutenees
and prescience. But there is, perhaps, nothing in which he dls*
plays Ills folly to a greater extent than in being born poor.
He is apt to excuse himself from this lamentable weakness
by asserting that it is not his fault, and by various axicmB which
are used to bolster up his vanity. Poverty, he asserts, is no disgrace. The
love of mpney is the root of all evil, and he assumes a respectful attitude to
ward the horny-handed son of toil, as if that individual were the most exalted
of beings. Inwardly, however, he despises him. He longs for luxury, for
that careless abandon that comes with moneyed ease and there are moments
when he hates himself for his own lack of forethought.
The worst of the matter is that those who permit Ihemselves to be born
poor are the very cnes fitted by nature to enjoy wealth. They invariably
fcave kind hearts and generous dispositions. They have self-oontrol in an
eminent degree. They deprecate money for its own Bake, and only care for
It foi what it will bring. Undoubtedly they possess extraordinary qualifica
tions In Its proper dissemination. There is never 'a snob among them, a one
who, under any circumstance, could ever go back un his former friends. On
the contrary, one of the principal uses they would make of their money?If
they only had ft?mould be to have their friends enjoy it.
It certainly seems a cruel perverse ness of Fate that all these people should
be cut off from what they are most em inently fitted.
On the ether hand, with respect to thoso who are horn wealthy, there
can be no doubt that they are generally unfit, incapable beings, extremely
undeserving of their let. It would seem as if, having expanded all their
genius upon being born rich, there was none left to help them make a proper
?ise of their possessions. They are very likely to be snobish; selfishness
la with them more or less an art in itself?an art in which it is necessary to
?aainftain the illusion that one is interested in others, when, in reality, one's
own personal gratification Is the only thing one is striving for. They are also
likely to be dissapated, and somewhat cruel, and to betray a strange lack of
sympathy.
These are the miscreants, who having s*en to it that they were born
rich, now rest upon thoir oars, while we, the real people toil op, the galley
slaves of injustice or our own folly.
We have made a fatal error, and we are now paying for it.
And so, to theso yet to come, we would give fair warning. See to it
that the family you are born into, no matter what their natural unlntelligence
?aay be. is more than comfortably off. Only in this way can the race ever
feope to reach its highest ideala.?Life.
The Guest in the Orient.
By J. R.8. Sterrett.
T
HE villagers who entertain the stranger in their houseg natur
ally enough expect lilm to talk to them, for thus only can he
give them the return they anticipate for their hospitality. As
a general rule they will accept no remuneration for the food
and shelter they give, but they do expect payment for the feed
vf 'the animals.
The conversation one has to carry ton with thp host and the
other villagers who drop In to see and pay their respects to the stranger is
entertaining and even amusing as long as one is a novice in the country,
because It is unsophisticated prattle, such as one must have heard in Europe
in the Middle Ages. One unfailing topic is the rotundity of the world, the
negative side of the question being always defended. They cannot believe
that the sun remains stationary?for why should they disregard the evidence
of their own eyoa, which shows them that it does move across the vauH cf
Iheaven? They ask you how much tribute your countrymen pay to their
Padishah (whom we wrongly call Sultan), whose fact is upon the neck of all
nations, as they firmly believe. They inquire minutely Into your business at
bome and your reasons for travel in their country, &c. They handle with
childlike Joy and amazement your rifle and revolver, your knife, pen, pencils,
jour helmet and clothing and the women can never have enough of feeling
and fondling your socks which are more evenly and closely knit than their
backwoods, home-made article.
One must submit to an examination of this kind wherever one. stops,
often several times a day. Finally it palls on the traveller, unless he ta
Klfted with the patience of Job, and from that moment he tries to avoid
village hospitality. A further reason for such avoidance is the fact that the
?oceptance of the hospitality of villagers makes it impossible for the traveller
to put into durable form his road notes of the day while matters are still
fresh in his mind. For the scientific traveller or the archeeologist this is cf
the utmost moment. Now, among Turks writing in the house of your enter
tainer would simply be impolite and a boorish return for the hospitality, but
the Arabs regard the man who writes or draws as a spy, and will not permit
It at all?Harper's Magazine.
Robbed of His Root.
"There!" As th? doorbell rang
t#ice In succession, Von Blumer
Jumped up from bis scat with a torfk
of Intense annoyance, and turned
?round awlftly to face hi* wife. "Have
jrou been shopping again?" he inquir
ed, anxiously.
"No, dear," said Mrs. Von Blumer,
"I haven't been out of tho house to
day."
"Then," (said Von Blumer, throwing
down his paper with a gesture of Im
patience, "It's a caller. No sooner
do?B a man como homo from his work
At the office, worn out with the day's
?trucglo and prepared to nettle down
to a quiet evening, than his peace Is
disturbed by some confounde'd bore.
Socloty Is all very well In its way,
but whet do these people care for us,
and we for them? Hero I was Just
congratulating myself that I would be
able to get a good night's rest; and
now tho dr^un is over. I 're got to sit
up and exert myself to be pleasnnt to
a lot of idiots that I wish were in
Halifax. It's Just my lurk?tired cut,
all broken?Halloa! what's this; A
note! Umph!?Ah, yet?. of course!
Where are my boots? Not a moment
to lose. Show him into tho parlcr, Di
nah. Where "
"Who is it, dear?" ashed Mrs. Von
Blumer.
"Who is it?" repeated hor husband,
as he rushed by her?"who is it? Hoo
ray! It's Dlmploton, with two tickttft
for the theatrot"
Single Seed Wat Prolific.
A tlnglo mesqulte seed. imported
from tho southwest and planted In
Honolulu In 1873 has propagated and
aproad until in tho Hawaiian inlands
to-day there ar? 50,000 acres of tho
famous plant of tho alkali plains of
Arizona and Now Mcxico. Tho most
remarkable feature of tho manner in
which tho desert growth has taken
root on foreign and tropical soil lies
in tho fact that the mesqulto has com
pletely changed Its character and Is
?Mtly different from tho parent tree
l>f the west
AT HICK REST.
Harry?Evidently you am far gon?
?n Miss Checkworthy; but It l>ratn mo
why. I saw her the other evening
dressed In her finest, and I roust way
I couldn't hp c anythl'ng beautiful
about her.
Dick?Ah. but you xhottid havo seen
her as I did ono day last week, with
her hair In papers and with only a
calico wrapper for a gown, sitting
In her own room, clipping coupons
frofti a great pllo of securities.?Dos*
Ion Transcript.
A Bluestocking,;
ROMANCE
REALITY.
1 L>
By Miss Annie Edwards.
CHAPTER VL
Continued.
Children scarcely bigger than little
fti?' are among the groups of fan
eures, stalwart grandsires are working
*rlth will and arm as hearty as their
And everybody, old snd young. must
say his word of compliment to Severne,
upon whom the Victoria Cross ius al
ready been lavishly bestowed by Quer
nec imagination. When the last load
had left the field, and a parting glass
of something livelier than tea Is being
liberally served out by Jesn Marie and
Murgot, the health of Mussieu Sir
John" is.proposed and drank with an
honest English Houras! that makes the
surrounding orchard ring again. Fi
nally it Is settled for him that he shall
spend the remainder of the evening
at Flef-de-Ia-Relne.
"You hove been cheated nut of your
dinner/* Bays Aunt Hosie. In her hearty
North-country voice, and resting her
band on the young man's arm. "So
you must make a virtue of necessity
and eat a bit of eight o'clock supper
with us at the farm."
"And as you care for art," adds Miss
Theodora, with pretty consciousness?
Theodora actually on the liay field, and
in a costume, uplooped, Watteauish; a
blue-ribboned straw hat shading her
face, a la Gainsborough. "As you care
for art, Mrs. Chester and myself will
show you some of our small attempts
in water color. I had the very best ad
vantages In my youth." says Theodora,
plalutively retrospective. "Indeed, a
Slgnor Plnutl, or Plncelll, or some such
name, has been known to regret our
dear papa's social position. 'If the Sig
liorlna Theodora had but to work for
money,' poor Pinutl used to say "
"But, unfortunately, we have no Sig
nor Pinutl to praise us now." interrupts
Daphne, hot with confusion "And
nothing we do can possibly be worth
showing to a stranger; I?I mean to
any one who has traveled so much and
must have seen so many fine pictures
as Sir John Severne."
"I accept the apology," says Severne.
with a look that brings the color to her
cheeks. "If you had not retracted that
obnoxious word 'stranger.' I should
have walked straight away to the har
bor. Mrs. Chester. A steamer atarts
for New Haven to-night, and "
"And before to-morrow morning Sir
John Severne would have forgotteu
that such a place as Quernec exists,"
cries Daphne. By this time they bad
fallen a little behind the others, and
ure walking slowly, side by side, along
the narrow lane. Sir John well laden
with rakes and forks, she with her sun
bonnet hanging on her arm, an empty
water jar poised on her shoulder
Just like a lady and gentleman of the
cup aud saucer school of comedy, pre
paring for a telling bit of sylvan flir
tation.
"Don't you think it might be as well
for you to make a note of our exist
ence, sir? We shall remember you,"
she goes on a little sadly, "those of us
who live long enough?well, for about
the next thirty or forty years. Don't
you think you might write a couple of
words about us In your pocketbook?
Only the words Flcf-dc-la-Iteine and
the date of yesterday would be
enough."
"If you wish truly and honestly that
I should remember Fief-de-la-Keine
aud every one belonging to it. Mrs.
Chester; if you wish thnt I should re
member everything connected with
Quernec just one degree more vividly
than I am certain to do already, you
must let me make a sketch of you and
little Paul. 1 should like to get au
outdoor portrait of you. looking as
you look at tills moment "
"In a cotton gown and sun bonnet,
my cheeks well baked by eight hours'
haymaking, a water jar on my shoul
der. You don't want me to hide my
plctnresqueness under Sunday best, as
the country people do when they go to
town to L<e taken by the photograph
ers V"
"1 want you to look precisely as you
did when I first met you yesterday in
the fields."
"A certain letter in ray hand. Ah.
Sir .lohn, if you had never dropped
your letter "
"Mrs. Chester would not have direct
ed nie to the Martello tower in Quer
nec Hay. some other fellow would have
carried Paul safe to shore, and at this
moment?no, It would not do to push
these kind of suppositions too far.
My own correspondent little known the
happy results that letter was fated to
bring about."
? ?????
The distinct white light of day has
melted Into the teuderest shifting hues
of pearl aud opal. Severne and Mrs.
Chester, after I know not how ninny
hours spent in each other's society, arc
watching the stars rise, as they have
watched the sun set. (run the Quernec
shore. Paul had been forcibly carried
off to bed in the strong arms of Mar
got. the Misses Vanslttart, mindful of
damp, and rheumatism, have already lit
tlvir parlor hi nips. Only these two are
(i broad.
"Yes. we talk like old acquain
tances." li is Diiphne who speaks:, her
calm face lifted, with the after glow
or ;ill tiie west .ipon it. to Sevcnic's.
?'Yim. in reality, the extent of our ae
on.I'ntance Is?a knowledge of each
oltii-r's names. who dwell in
plr <???>?. like Qrcrncc have so siepped ofT
the stage or life n* to l:.i\e no history
to sneak of. 1 hav*? bee.: nineteen
yaara at Flef-4*U-Kelne. and each
year the ictd tlae. and potato plant*
Ing. and harvaat bar* been pretty
tnuch the same. Neve.* more different
than between a tret season and a dry
one. But yon. at your age "
"At my age, >meb Is four or fire
years more advanced than your's. Mrs.
Cheater!*'
"Age is not dependant upon-the num
ber of one's birthdays,'* she anawera
him, gravely "I waa two-and-twenty
4he fifteenth of laat April."
"Two months ago! Like (.11 immense
ly old people, you make the most of
your longevity.**
"And I seem to have done with life
Juat aa effectually a a though I were
fifty. You are merely a- schoolboy."
Her eyes traveling over his face with
a kind of soft compassion. "Your life
is beginning."
"With a tolerable accumulation of
experience to start from." says 8e
rerne. "Nine yea re ago. when I first
went to Woolwich. 1 looked upon my
self. 1 can assure you. as a finished
Chesterfield in mattera of worldly wis
dom. and now. after spending the .three
lust yenrK In India, too. to be told
coolly that I am only a schoolboy still!"
"After spending the three last yeara
in India." repeats Daphne, stooping
down and with one linger tracing out
u kind of Chinese pngodn upou the
sand. "You must have beeu young
enough, in all conscience, when you
went away! And you have never re
turned to England slncc?" ?
"Never. I am In the act of return
ing at this moment."
"Not very hurriedly?"
"Well. no. I wanted lo look up an
eld school friend who has married and
buried himself in Briltauy. That de
layed me a fortnight between Paris
and St. Malo."
"Then?"
"Then 'Murray* reminded me of my
duty. The traveler is here at n con
venient point for visiting the Channel
Islands. You know the rest."
"And the lady who wrote that letter
has not seen you for three years,
then?" cries Daphne, sweeping out the
pagoda with a touch, and raisiug her
eyes abruptly to Severne's. "She will
find you altered. Though you ex
changed photographs every week, you
could not keep a face fresh and living
before you through the changes of
three years."
It is a home thrust, the like of which
can only be given under ono or two
conditions: absolute knowledge or ab
solute Ignorance of the conventionali
ties. Sir John throws a quick look at
Daphne's face. at the serious, truth
telling eyes, the Hps from which no
word of "chaff" or other wit of the
period has ever flowed, and comes to
the sudden resolution, then and there,
of enlightening her ns to his engage
ment.
"Yes. we shall tind each other
changed. .Mrs. Chester, in things, per
haps. that don't come within the
scope or photography." He takes up
a handful of Kinall pebbles, nud, as he
talks, aims one after another at some
imaginary target on the inargiu of
the water. "You see. we hud known
each other just six weeks, and we
were children?Miss Ilardeastle, at
least, was a child?when?when I was
ordered to India. We spoke in our
haste, and I ^suppose filial I have the
interest now of tinding out how far
our speaking led us wrong."
And for one long minute Daphne
Chester is silent.
Her heart Is dead, no doubt, on that
point; her belief in personal happiness
shattered. The only feeling she can
possibly entertain toward Sir John Se
verue is gratitude-just what she felt
for gouty old Dr. de Uariot. when he
had brought Paul safely through the
meusles.
"I shall have more faith in my own
cleverness for the future." so at
length she speaks, in her matter-of
fact. quiet voice. "When first 1 picked
up that letter 1 thought to myself it
was from your sweet?from some one
you cared more than common for. You
must be longing to get back to Eng
land. Sir John. After three years of
separation, tl?" hours must pass heav
ily that keep you apart."
"Well," answers Severne. discharg
ing his last ivot with vigor at the Im
aginary targ? . "we are not romantic
people, either of us; that Is the fact.
Miss Harden .-lie Is?I suppose If I had
to sum up In / characteristics in one
word I should be forced to say?pre
pare yourself. Mrs. Chester, a cold
shock Is In store for you?that Miss
Hardcastle i the least bit in the world
a blue-stocking.''
"A blue-storking!" exclaims Daphne,
with a bitf? <?. sharp seuse of her own
detlclencles. and with u vision, grand,
epic, homic' la I. rising before her.
"The tcri.i is old-fashioned," says
Sir John. -And still with feminine
learning increasing at its present rate.
I don't know that we can well afford
to do without it."
"It Is a very awful term." cries
Daphne. "I have heard my aunts
speak of Mrs. Trimmer. Miss Por
ter "
"And Vrs. Hannah More! Ah. the
modern ' ue-xlocking is cast upon a
(UfTr/e'.v -lattern, exhibits diverging
ntauifr. ions, as she would say, In
lli?' lav -tc of llie tribe. The modern
bltic-s.uci.ing acknowledges few things
Wwt cannot weighed in tho balance
or observed In tin* spectroscope."
"I think," said Daphne, forgetting
The labors of the Irish Antl-Emlgra
tlon Society, an organization formed
Inst year, do not appear to have been
nttended with much success. The emi
gration from tho south and west of
Ireland, from which tho outflow chiefly
takes place, has shown no slpn of di
minishing. In 1000 the emigration
through the port of Cork to the United
States amounted to 27,103; In 1901, 22,
430; In 1902, 23,440. and 1903. 24,412. For
the eight month of the present year
the figures are 18,512, while (or the cor
responding eight montjh* of last year
jth? return was 17,769. * ^ ..
cannibalism appears to be unknown
among the lower animals In a state of
nature. In India some Instances of
bnakcs^ devouring one another have
been collected, but it has been pointed
out that in every case cited the snakes
were of different species. This, it Is
e'edared, is no more an act of cannibal*
l*m than the devouring of a field mouse
| by a rat. Unquestionable cannibalism
was noted some years ago In a London
menagerie, when a python ate another
of Its own kind, but this was under the
unnatural condition* tmflQfled by U/e '0
captivity.
te tho plafltuds otWfUt
cwrlty. "that I ??ril much rather not
tha Mdtra blue-stock
. "Miss Hardcastle will iBarltabir
com* across m" returns Severn*,
looking iBUMd. -In t couple of days,
to-morrow, porhsps, Miss Hanlcsstle
and a party of her Mends will arrive
In Jersey on n yachting expedition."
"Keep her away?keep . her away
(Tom FIef<de4a-Belne! Never let my
Ignorance be placed side by tide with
the.science or such a paragon!** This
was Daphne's first thought, perbsps I
should ssy the first rush of wordless
emotion from which thought springs.
One second later. "And Is Miss Hard
castle tall or short?" she asks, her
voice so excellently schooled that her
companion's dull msscullne perceptions
detect In It no constraint. "Has she
blsck eyes or blue, dsrk hair or
blonde?**
"After the lapse of three years It Is
dUBcult to speak accurately about
shades of color," he remarks, watching
?not the faded photograph of the wo
man he Is to wed?but the flushed snd
living face of this daughter of Hetli.
this acquaintance cf yesterday, with
whom already he Is more than half lu
love, "Miss Hardcastle, I have a fan
cy. was called fair?but no, you are
fair, in the true painter's acceptation
of the word. She was?I am certain'
I could get a likeness of you at this
moment, if there were light enough to
draw. One llttie line more In profile."
With an artist's privilege. 8everne's
hand rests for a second's space upon
her coils of silken hair. "You will
give me. a first sitting to-morrow, will
you not*"
"And her eyes are dark, for certain.
Sir John, I like the face of 'your own
correspondent.' There is something
one could rely upon about that mouth,
lu spite of all tue terrible things you
have said about blue-stockings. I don't
think I shall be very frightened to
make the acquaintance of?of?" out
came the words with an effort?"Miss
Hardcastle, your sweetheart.*'
CHAPTER VII. i
Romance.
"Yes, his maternal great-aunt must
have been a Miss Clavering. of Logan,"
says Isabella Vansittart, with decision:
"co-heiress to the Logan estates, and u
noted beauty. The Marquis de Val
uiont was her first lover. He got killed
in a duel with the celebrated Colonel
Bullcr, and six months later she mar
ried Henry Vanslttart, a first cousin
of our father's. \ou understand me,
Theodora; you are following what 1
sny? A great-aunt of tills young man
Severne married our father's cousin,
Henry Vansittart."
Notwithstanding the beauty of the
June night, the lamps in the farm par
lor are lit, curtains closely drawn, and
the two elder sisters are in the thick
of the backgammon contest with
which, summer and winter alike, their
eventless days come to a close. Aunt
Hosie sits at .ier knitting; a shade
more of gravity than is vsual round I
her lips.
"There. Daphne! You hear." cries i
Miss Theodora, as .Jar hue Chester en- I
ters. "According to Isabella's chron- j
ology, we may claim a kind of kinship
with your Hero. Handsome is that
handsome does," continues Theodora.
"Sir John Severne Is one of the very
ugliest men it has been my luck to
meet. Still, there can be no doubt he
behaved with presence of mind as re
gards the child. Presence of uiind.
simply. As to thinking there could
have been any danger with Paul act
ually under my own eyes, it is ridicu
lous."
"Ugly!" exclaims Daphne, indignant
ly. Aunt Hosie chiming in a deep
toned second, "Sir .lohu Severne ug
ly*" ? ? ;> < i
"To a remarkable and unusual ex
tent." answers Miss Theodora. "I I
might, indeed, sny of his face that it j
has no line of feature at all. A fapc, |
as onr poor father used to remark, i
without a profile. When I saw him |
at work in the Imyiiehl this afternoon, J
I could not help feeling how well the |
employment sat upon him. But. of !
course, youth, animal spirits, ami a ;
sunburnt skin have always a certain j
charm for some fastes!"
"Sir John Severne has a great heart.
Who could cavil a1>out the profile of a ,
man who has been your salvation, res- |
cued that which is dearer to you than j
your own life? Sir John Severne is"? |
her voice trembles?"Is everything to
ine that one human being cau be to ;
another."
"Ahem! Sister," cries Miss Theo- j
dora, not without a shade of moaning i
.in her voice. "It Is your turn to play.
I have thrown cinq-ace again, and do I
not enter."
"Aye, aye," muses Miss Vansittart,
holding the dice box loosely between
her well-formed, withered old hands.
"Bnt what renders the coming of this
young man really extraordinary is that
two nights ago I had a dream. You
hear, all of you, a dream!
"I saw lilni,' as plainly as I see
either of you, dripping with water,
supporting Paul in his arms, and with
his right hand holding out a wedding
ring.' Not altogether such a dream as
could be wished. 1 am aware, but we
must receive such things." says Miss
Vansittart, solemnly: "we must re
ceive such things for good or for evil
as they are sent to us. That dream
portends innrrlnge."
"Marriage!"' exclaims Aunt Hosie,
letting go her knitting with mi abrupt
ness Vhat causes :it Uast a quarter of
a row of stitches to drop from the
pins, and with an acerbity very un
usual In her voice. "I wish the word
were expunged from the Kitglish lan
guage. Marriage! Here--at Flcf-de?
la-Uelne!"
To he continued.
Tf you meet a woman who strongiy
suspects that she Is u beauty, a*k her
earnestly if all her family are beau
tiful.?Baltimore American.
Will Keep Clergyman Busy.
A Manchester, N. 11.. clergyman who
returned after a month's absence on
vacation found ?uch a- Inr^o mall
awaiting him nt the postofllcc that ho
had to take a large dress suit ease to
carry it home in.
ArtlesftneKR la held to bo the pre
rogative of childhood. But why should
?o valuable a Jewel bo denied older
people? is there any virtue that la
really unbecoming an adult? asks the
Burlington Hawkey^ .
New York City.?Full waists that are
?birred and draped to form soft and
graceful folds are among the latest
features of fashion aud are exceeding!j
r>HApni> waist.
attractive in the many pliable mate
rials of the reason. This one is pe
culiarly stnart and includes a point
at the front and the new sleeve*,
shirred to forni two lengthwise miffs
above tho elbows. The inr terlal chosen
for the model is willow ?,reen inessa
line sutln with cream colored lace for
chemisette ami cuffs. banding and
Itows of darker velvet, but there are
mauy wool as well as silk materials
that can be treated in the same manner
with eqwa' success. am'., when liked.
shade ?nvfpa over the right sidew
More loop* of the rlbbou ure uuder the
brim at the right side.
This upward tilt to the right seems
Tfry unnatural, and It's a question If
the mode be widely adopted. It was
not last year, though a number of
models were displayed.
That N?w Htukd* ?T Stead.
Tucking and smocklug, not alone In
Riunll sections, but In whole pieces,
large euough to make a waist, or at
least a girdle effect, are being shown
In gowns for reception and evening
wear this season. Another kind of
ornament is the blond lace, which him
ply detles description. It's neither
cream, nor pure white, nor yellow,
nor any particular shade, but blond,
and the most popular trimming shown
for the fall season. Without a broad
girdle no reception gown is complete.
These may be of the same material
and shade as the go>vn or of bright
rlbltons. with long streamers, or bows
at the back.?New York Tress.
The Knotted Stock.
A pretty stock of white crepe has
the long front tal> tied up into little
Itows down its lci'gth.
Itlounr or Stilrt Waiat.
Plain shirt waists always are in de
mand and always till t need. 'I'bis
one shows the new sleeves, that are
full at the shoulders, atul includes a
wide box pleat at the centre front.
The model is made of Uussian blue
Sicilian molialr. stitched with corticelli.
silk, and is worn with a belt and tie
of black taffeta. All waist lug male
rials are. however, equally appropriate,
the many mercerized cottons as well
as wool and silk.
A LATE DESIGN BY MAY MANTON.
the dorp cuffs can Ito omitted ami the
sleeves made in three-quarter length.
The waist in made with the fitted
lining, on which the full front* and
backs are arranged, and is duelled at
the neck with a roll-over collar under
which the chemisette Is attaehed. The
sleeves are made over lifted lining*,
which are faced to form cuffs, and art
full above the elbows, finished with
circular frills below which fall over the
gathered ones of the lace. The closing
.? made Invisibly at the centre front.
The quantity of uviterinl required for
the medium size is four and three*
fourth yards twenty-one inches wide,
four mid one-halt yards tuenty-#jveu
Inches wide, or two and three-fourth
yards forty four inches wide, with
seven-eighth yard of all-over lace,
three-fourth yards of hiits velvet and
two and one-half yards of lace to make
as Illustrated.
Very Fiwiiuitinff. Thin.
Absolutely fascinating is a big hat
of the time of the Restoration. To say
that it is fascinating i? also to say
that it is of the second period of the
Restoration, about JMIJO.
At the right the brim is very broad
and flaring. At the left it is less s-?.
At the front it is yet narrower, while
at the back it is quite narrow. It is
beautifully colored with a delicately
rosy fawn silk, the brim being faced
with a rosy castor miroir velvet. This
velvet shades almost to golden brown,
and will iro beautifully with the beaver
fur which is to be revived. At the? left
side of the crown Is a bunch of loops
in satiny apricot rlblion, tiie ribbon be
ing drawn through a cut steel buckle
at the centre, from which a magnifi
cent paradise plume in tbe brownish
Tlio wuiat consist! o- tli? titInl lin
ing, which Ih optional, fronts and buck.
Tlu? hack Is plain t cross the shoulders,
drawn down In K'lthcrs at I ho waist
lino, but the fronts are pit her ed nt
their upper edfcs, also, so forming
becoming folds. Tho sImovos are In
slilrt style, gathered Into atraiKht cuffs,
and at the neck is a regulation stock.
The quantity of material required lor
the medium size is three and thrcc
fourlh yards tw>nty-one inches wide.
MLOt'HK "It AHir.T WAIHT.
Ilirrc and oiH'-lialf .vurd* twciity-wveit
Indies wide, or two yards forty-foul
lut-lics wide.