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- .. -S ... I. -- .., -- <. K - .9.- 1 -I F . a' - AX I TRI-WEEKLY EDITION WJNNSBORO, S.C., JANUARY 5, 899. ESTABLISHED 1814. A WARNING. ve comes but once If welcomed he will gladly stay; If spurned, rejected Love will fly away. And though we loudly call, The cry is all in vain; For love affrighted, Vill not come again. Ah, ifeart, ope wide the door When Love would bide with thee, And bid him enta. in For all eterniy. CHAPALA. BY A. M- BARNES. Chapala Perez had come into the "patio" or court of the hotel at Dur ango, where Hunt's party was staying for a few day.. He had "burros" (donkeys) to hire, by the day or by the hour, as the riders chose. Chapala had some fair-looking burrosgray and sleek, and apparently receiving not only care but kindness. This was un usual for Mexican burros. As a gen eral thing this patient and long-suffer ing lit tle animal had the leasf care and the hardest of times. Afterward it came out that Chapala did not really own the donkeys. They belonged to the man for whom he worked. It had seemed strange that Chapala should have so much of worldly pos session since he was in appearance the shabbiest of mortals. His sombrero had seer long and heavy service and flopped about his ears like the wings of some great bird tired of flying. Eere and there through the thread worn blanket was a gleam of his shirt, lghier in coloring. thoagh not so fron cleanliness. His neither gar ments cune but little more than half way down bet'veen knees and ankles, * while the ronghest of "guaraches" (sandals) were attached to his feet. "The fellow is a regular co:npatch scarecrow!" aunaounced Hunt one day from the balcony of the hotel, where he sat overlooking the patio. "Hush, Hunt," said Helen, his sister; "dhe poor thing may under stand English and hear you, and it will hurt his feelings." "Feelings," repeated Hunt,-and in cautiousl raising his voice. "Why, what does such a fellow as that know of feelings? No more, I'm sure, than the perro yonder," pointing to one of the hotel dogs as he spoke. At that moment Chapala dropped his head and seemed in earnest con vereaxtion with a gentleman who had drawn near to speak to him about the burros. The next day there was a long mountain trip on burros that had been planne d L f.,u; a a re, himself among the number. As he roproached to mount Hunt saw that Chapala had charge of the donkeys. He thought no more of it until they were returning-were half-way home, in fact-then he had cause to remem ber it all his life. They were moving along a narrow trail in the mountains. Above thean r'ose the sheer face oi the cliff many hundreds of feet, below them dropped the precipitous sides of the gorge, even deeper. It required cautious riding. A step or two out of the path and - donkey and rider would go plunging over the precipiee. Hunt had lingered for another viewv of a magnificent mountain lion crouching on a lede across the chasm. Thus he had fallen behind to the ixtent that he was now the last of the party-or, that is, the last with the exception of Chapala who rode directly behind him. Suddenly, as they were passing in front of a great bowlder,and it needed more alertness than ever to ride safely, Hunt heard the words, distinctly muttered into his car: "I hate you!" "He turned swiftly yet cautiously. There was Chapala's burro pressed as near to his own as it could be with safay, and Chapala himself leaning forwvard, his face distorted, his lips wot king as with some uncontrollable emotion. "[ hate you!" he repeated, and Hunt.if not Helen,knew that Chapala understood English. "I could ca.st you down from the rock, and I will:" Who is to know but that the donkey slipped with you! Whose body will be as the dog's then, unfit for even the birds to eat?" He sprung from his donkey and made the movement to catch Hunt's bridle rein. But the boy was too quick for him. It was a daring thing to do, but Hunt was equal to it. Giv ing his barro a sharp cut, he plunged forward, keeping the animal's head with a firm grip close against the-wall. -eIn a few moments he had come in sight of the rest of the party. They thought hinm crazy when they saw him urging his burro so nmadl5j toward them, and ca'!ed to him that if he valued his life and theirs to stop. He reined up safely within a few feet of themi, and when those more faniliar with hinm severely reprimanded him he only smiled and k.-pt his own counsel. Somehow Hunt never mentioned the matter, not even to Helen. He felt really ashamed of the part lie had played. He had had no right to call the boy a cornfield scarecrow and to announce so positively that he had no more feelings than a dog. It was not only cruel--it wvas contemptible. Huint could see it all plainly now. Tiere was a better feeling stirring within himt, a feeling that urged himt to seek Chapatla and make humble confession. But would he receive it. It was Roger Arnold, Hunt's par ticular chum. wvho pr1oposed, a night or tw'o later, and just after supp~er, thmat they sho ald go and watch the ::ea"hant ers. "There is no danger--that is. totto lookeron, if he is carefni"-rssured Roer t is only the hunter who rus the risk." That night it seemed as though nearly every man, wonuan and child in Durango were on the hunt for alacrans, so completely did their twinkling lights cover the old fields and other open places. For some time the ala cran, the great scorpion pest of Dur ango, had increased to such an alarm ing extent, even gliding along the streets and into the houses, that the government had offered a reward for their extermination-a centavo (cent)a head for every lifeless alacran. Despite th:t, the undertaking was to a con siderable degree a dangerous one, the bite of the alacran producing death when not i-eceiving prompt attention, many poor people earning their living in this way. The-hunting was done at night aud. with lanterns. The scorpions were lured from their hiding places in st imps, rocks and old walls. then blinued with the light and slain. Hunt was surprised to see Chapala among a group of the hunters. After ward he learned that he had lost his place with the owner of the burros, and, rather than see his old mother and young sisters come to want, had undertaken the dangerous occupation of alacran hunting. Hunt felt relieved when Chapala passed on without ob serving him. As Hunt passed around an angle of I a wall he suddeuly came face to face with Chapala! The latter had been stooping over, his lantern diiectly in front of him and close against the wall. Thus the light had been so concealed, Hunt had not even caught a glimmer of it. So sudden was the encounter that Hunt was almost overcome by it. He reached forth his hand to steady himself against the wall, and then it was that a sharp cry escaped him. Some. hing had struck hiai with stinging force directly in the palm. At the same instant there was a rustling movement and a small slender shap3 glided with rapidity down the waU and disappeared. "The alacran!" cried Hunt, trem bling with terror. "An alacran has stung me. Oh, how the pain in creases!" CI:,pala approached. He held his lantern in Hunt'.: fce. The glow fell upon his own. For a second it was almost fiendish in its expression of gloating satisfaction. "At last you have what you deserve!" lie said. "Now you can stay here and die; yes, die! for in a little while the poison will have such a hold on you you cannot move!" He was turning away. A cry broke from Hunt. Was he really going.away, going to leave him to die? It was only too true what Chapala had said. Even then the numbness was creeping over hiim and how terrible the pain! Chapala had moved some paces from the wall. There he had stopped, ?tnin# irrpsnntg e ' as a force at worM tMat WouMiU . permit him to go forward. A' week before he would have gone away, but not now, for newer, better thoughts had come to Chapala. Directly he came back. He bent above Hant, for the boy had sunk to a kneeling posi tion against the wall and was iioaning in his torture. Chapala ben; above him, but his face did not now have that gloating look. Indeed, the whole exression had changed. Dismay, torture, regret were all plainly written there. "Senor (sir)," he cried sharply, "arouse yourself! Stand up! Let mec help you! It is not yet too late! There is an old boticario (apothecary) near hvy, I will assist you there." But'Hunt was beyond responding to the now beseeching tones, espe cially beyond any movement to raise himself. Fright as well as pau iad rendered him alnost lifeless. Chapala began to cry out in his remorse. i't his despair. Why had he done tl is thing? Why had he waited until it was now perhaps too late? And he had promised the missiinary that he would forget, tha~t he would forgive. "He shall not die!" he cried fiercely. "No; I will save him!" "It may be too late," he said, despair still in his voice. "The boti cario must save him!" He had to carry Hunt almost bodily across the field, for it was but little the boy could help himself. "He will live!" declared the bati cario after he had promp;tly adminis tered remedies. "But he will owe his life chiefly to you, my brave fel low." Chapala bowed his head; the tears trickled through his fingers, buit they were tears of joy. Now, indeed, he knew what it was to overco:ne evil with good. There is no sweeter vic tory. -Chicago Record. She Ordered the Governor About. Sick soldiers are constantly passing through Washington. and a number of women who live here have left their homes to administer to the soldiers, and furnish them with the delicacies which are not supplied by the govern me-it. These women enter the trains and perform the duties of nurses, which the government in many instances failed to sui>pIy. When a New JTersey regiment passed through reee tiy one of these women noticed a soldier who seemed to have but a short time to live and endeavored to cheer his few remaining hours. She neede-l a basin of water to wa'dh the face of the suifering soldier, and seeing a man dressed in citizens' at tire standing near ordered himi to bring it to her. He obeye 1 the order with alacrity, and several times was ordered to "bring more wvater." which he did cheerfully. When the train was about to depart the woman thanked the citizen for his services and inquired who he was. Much to her surlorise sihe iearned that it was -the governor of New Jersey wvho had been ostentationsly ministering to the soldiers of his state who were return ing from the iever-sirieken camps of the south.--- \awhington correspond e-c of the Chicao Tribune. AMERICAN COURAGE. Same of Its Striking and Peculiar Char& acteristics. Of course, there are Americans and Americans, and some of the latter are not heroes in any sense, but the Amer ican American is a distinctly coura geous individual. He does not face death with the resigned fatalism of the Hindoo, or the fanatic f: e izy of the Mohammedan. He does not go into action on stilts of rhetoric and melo drama that mark the Romance races. He does not die with the stolid ity of the Anglo-Saxon. He has per haps merged the stoicism of the In dian, the stubbornness of the Saxon, and the rejoicing of the Celt, an amaz ing coolness and an irrepressible humor. The curious thing is that the typi cal American hero is able to see the funny side of his own death, the flaws in his non-idolized leaders; he can grasp the whole situation with shrewd ness, and yet remain so far from being overcautious or shrinking that he does not count his life a penn'orth when anything is to be gained. When the call came for Lieut. Hob son's crew of six to man and sink the Merrimac, a feat whose picturesque ness equalled its apparently inevita ble fatality, there were hundreds, if not thousands, ready and eager to answer that call. Under the storm of shot and shell, and with the imminent danger of being hoisted by their own petal d, they steered the ship and sunk her with the precision and aplomb of a naval review. When Spanish projectiles thronged the air of Manila bay, the commander of the Boston stood on his bridge, with his coat off, fanning himself, and observing that the cap of cofee he was taking was not properly sugared. Such of our seamen as have Leen forced to be ille during the fleet's action, have frequently dancej and sung, and ever. played the harmonica to the diapasou of bombardment. W12en, in the civil war. Cushing's little tughoatwas bailed by the Albe marie it had come to sink, every man aboard of her sung out a humorous reply to the sentinel's "Who goes there ?" .The deadly sharpshooters of the north and south cracked jokes at each other while their guns exchanged repartee. Instances of the absolute fearless, homely, unrhetorical, witty behavior of the Yankee in crises of danger fairly bristle in history. The robust trairs that have made Yankee heroism and coolness a marvel and a - warning to the rest of the world, reappear now in full force. They should convince the monomaniacs who have thought they saw decadence and end-of-the-centur isra sapping the race, that the salt of Am ri nism has not .et lost its savor The Porter at San Juan. At the bombarrient of San Jua the Porter tookv .,re prominent pa than was either intended or desir but, fortunately, escaped without harm. From all information that had been obtained, it was understood that no guns were mounted on the wall to the eastward of the Morro. To this apparently safe station the Porter was ordered, being directed to remain there during the bombardment, pre paied to torpedo nny armored vessel that came onei of San Juan entrance. The assigned position was taken, and the first round of the attacking vessels was co-npleted, when the wall that was supposed to be without guns de veloped a strong and active battery. As the attacking ships were then mak in the turn out at sea preparatory to returning for the second round, the little Porter occupied a position of undue prominence, and in conse quence received the attention of this battery, directly under which she lay. It is hard to understand how such a storm of projectiles could have missed her; but it was not a chance to be~ risked a second. time, and before the~ battery could fire again the Porter wa turning out at full speed, firing back~ with her one-pounders, and swallowe 8 up in a cloud of black smoke from he own funnels. It was a narrow escapel and it was evident our report of "ni damage and no casualties" was r ceived by tne flagship with much r4 lief.-Harper's Magazine. The X-Ray Photographi in Court. The earliest rep~orted instance the use of the X-ray process in deuce seems to have been in the trict court of Arapahmoe county, Tennessea it was held that an Xa photograph, showing the overlaph bones of one of the legs of the ph T tiff, broken uby an injury for 'h suit was brought, taken by a phy n ci and surgeon familiar with fraes t and with the process of taking lch photographs, who testified that fac- b curately represented the conditi of the leg, is admissiole in e'ie. b The court said: "The pictorialgire- cI sentation of the condition thme broken leg of the plaintiff garithe fc jury a much more intelligent ' 4of a that particular injury than i.?d : have obtained from any vg , -'y scriptio~n of it by a surgeons n if' he had used fo the purpose ta sinm-o plest terms of his at"L te at Preserving Dead Bod g The success in preser~ dead p bodies that has been achg by a pE Naples surgeon, Dr. E. y i, has in excited the wonder of EuT in pay-. ta sicians. Isa uses a sceijspecial be baths, without incisions o -ac:ion. |n The first of the three stis, pro- jhe visonal dessication, whie'td the tr b-dy in a condition for r0'A issec- :to tion by the anatomist; ti',.ond is th petreticationl, giving theieses of du mrble in a few hours, a f~e third en is th~e restorativn of il color, bie fexibility and freshness.4hat the is sect appears to be sieleeping.' ORIGIN OF FOOTBALL. GROWTH OF THE GAME DURINC FOUR HUNDRED YEARS. It Is Now the most Popular Sport, With the Possible Exception of Golf, in the United States-The GAme Was Never Gentle-Footballers as Soldiers. In America today, the most popular sport among the classes is, with the possible exception of golf. football, and its origin must alwayate a mat ter of speculation. A xriter tells us that the football game, "which is one of the most interesting and popular of sports," is one -of the oldest games extant, that it was originated in Italy in the sixteenth century. and was- in vogue until the year 1790, when its popularity subsided. The real origin of football remains a mystery, upon which few historians care to go on record. Away back in ~time, we find that "Nausicam of the ihite arms" was en gaged with her maidens playing a game of ball when Odyssey first put in an appearance. Several centuries afterward games were played in Eng land with inflated balls, called the bollis. Thdy were of a character not calculated to impress upon the mind of the spectator a complete idea of mildness aad gentleness. Later on in England Edward 1I may be found discoursing upon "hustling over great balls" as a very dangerous pastime, and one noxious to the natiun. In 1608, Manchester (England) has a series of football games, and it is re carded. that after each contest the town was devoid of glass in the win dows. Along about this time it was Sir W. Davenant, according to Max Pemberton, who remarked that foot ball was not a vevy "conveniently civil sport." Strutt, when asked his opinion on the so-called football of the day, wrote: "The exercise being exceedingly violent, the players kick each other's shins without ceremony, and some are overthrown at the haz ard of the limbs." The Yale or Harvard man who has lost an ear or a'ineecap wiil be apt to roll that statement under his tongue as a rich morseLt Walter Camp. in one of his most valuable and 1ateresting works on football, makes mention of the, fact that it originated among the Greeks and Romans in the twelfth century, and that its progress was very seri ously retarded-by the triumph of the Puritans in the eighteenth century. These deductions, while interesting, are of course matters of small moment so far as they relate to the real origin of the.game,9and i s true origin coul te Ie ne ream by ki 1ad with a repor like a y unlike the foot ball p Yale, Harvard and Princeto bty teams of today. There exists the same difference, with less'harm to shins, as betwe the Emiire State express and the ox-cart of tlo ancient Romans. Tie football games between Eng-| laudland Scotland amounted to riots neary always, and quite frequently| battbs, yet today serious injuries on the Aeld are few and far between and fatdities of rare occurr n e. Tith the advent of the ?tngby game thihange to a fair and sportsnian lie-sport began. It has gradually ben enhanced until the game is now ~mmonly regarded as the highest of 4 athletic pastimes and one of the lost scientific of games. There is ~me danger in its participation, to be ire. The same is true of all sports, rith the possible exception of lawn ennis and tcroquet, but the amount f good that such a sport does to a ation is almost inestimable. More >Otball players distinguished them elves in the late war with Spain than de representatives of all other sports ombined. Admiral Dewey's Personality. "I have the pleasure of knowing amiral Dewey quite well," said Mr. ~eorge B. Allison of Washington, D. ., to a reporter of the New Orleans imes-Demuocrat. "How does he onk?" Well, imagine a dapper little an, always modishly dressed, with 'on gray hair, kept close cnt and a 1 ray moustache rolled to a point at ichi end. His manners are courtly,t ad he has a habit of inclining his Bad to one side in conversation, due, believe, to a slight deafness in the ght ear. He is very fond of the so- i ety of young people, and while sta- I oned at the capitol was as popular I ith the Washington belles as any - au in the ecty. A stranger unac- , iainted with his history would proba- 13 y set him down as a well-seasoned t ubman, thoroughly an fait in all rms of elegant diversion, but on all y atters touching his profession one isv ipressed immediately by his sharp, r cisive, business-like style of speech. i have been told time and again by a a sailors that he is the greatest inas- a r of sea craft in the navy. His only ,s centricity that I can call to mind is 'd .aversion to prosniscuous hand- ,n aking, and I have heard him comn-t aun rather savagely of cranks who b rsist in squeezing one's hand upon ih troduction. .He wears a heavy in- i lio ring, and said that he has o>ften leh en pained by having it ground s) on the next finger. The papers say k is a stamp collector, but that is un- h te. He is a lepidoterist, or collec- b :of butterflies, and has secured li >usands of magnificent specimens b ring his voyages. He has undoubt- o ly the finest private collection of a1 tterflies in the United States. It c insured for $6000;ox $8000-only a i ..ion of its value. i BAD ROADS IN PORTO RICO. General Stone Believes Electric Roads Will Take the Place of Waaon Roads. General Roy Stone, United States volunteers, formerly director of the office of Good Roads inquiry.of the department of agriculture, recently returned to Washington from Porto Rico where, in addition to fighting with his regiment, he investigated thoroughly the condition of roads on the island. Gener il Stone found the means of communication between the interior and the - coast and between the towns generally to be very poor. A railroad runs partly around the isl and, but is badly planned, poorly supported and miserably managed. The roads in the interior are constantly muddy, so much so that passage is al most impossible, the men sinking to their knees and the wagons to their axles. This renders the transporta tion of the products of the island from the interior to the seapor s a very difficult and expensive undertaking, 9 and hampers to-a great extent the c commerce of ofhe island. Coffee is brought from the plantations in the interior on the heads of the men and women or on pack animals, at a cost i of S2 per hundredweight. This cost hinders the successful cultivation of the large coffee plantations. It is I equally detrimental to the interests of C the sugar planters, many of whom i have plantations in the valleys of the a interior. Tobacco is more easily a handled, so that its production is not t so much affected. General Stone I said to a 3an reporter: "I am convinced that Porto Rico t will never have a complete system of wagon roads sach as some of the states have. Roads are enormously expensive in that island, the cele brated military road costing in the neighb irhood of 100,000 per mile. The enormous rainfall distributed throughout all seasons is ruinous to any road unless thoroughly well drained and constructed on a hard I foundation. I believe, however, that the place of the wagon rca-Is will be more than filled by eeetric roads, of ; which I am certain there will soon be a a network over the is'and. Steam railways would 1.- too expensive to construct or to coerate, there being : no coal on the isOind, while there is Y% an abundance of water power. The rivers rise in the mountains in the in terior and have an average fall of 2500 , feet in their short race to the sea, and ) there is always abundance of water 4 pouring over high falls. Power for # electric roads could be obtained from 7 these falls at little expense, the roads could be easily graded and the rain would not affect an electric road as it I , does a wagon road. These roads would open communication between t coast and place t tobaeo of the seaboard. I regard the possibilities for the investment of American capital in Porto Rico as something immense." The Anglo-Saxon and the Russian. C Agriculture is still the chief indus- til try of Russia, but manufactures are ti forging rapidly to the front. The st peasants still till the soil with crude si instruments fashioned by their own aa hands and thrash the grain with old- til fashioned flails, but in spite of this w fact Russia manages to produce more of grain than any other country in the at world, with the exception of the United oc States. Who can predict what she m will do when the modern agricultural th~ implements gain a foothold on the vast pc Asiatic steppes and those virgin wastes n< are peopled with thriving husband- hi men? What will the United States do at with a competitor of this sort? There hi is no doubt that with the magnificent nc possibilities op)ened up by the comn- w: pletion of the great Trans-Siberian hi railroad and the liberal policy inu- ar gurated by the present Czar both the we great Anglo-Saxon countries will be Ti compelled to look to their laurels or!fe the wily Muscovite will - circumvent n them in the conduction of the' affairs th of the world andl by his far-reaching a:i sagacity establish a new econoinic.- br ,rder of things which will wrest from| th Amnerica and England their supremacy th md place it upon the brow of the* sn czar of all the Russias. Wi The Russian, howvever, while will- de ng to work hard and industr-iously, fir: is yet has evidenced no special intel- Ca] eetial brilliancy, and while the Rhus ,ian press may boastfully exclaim, 'The twentieth century is ouirs,"thiey vill find that Anglo-Saxon pluck, >rains and energy will go a long ways sei o prevent them from making good, ar hat assertion. -Phiadelphia Timies. er, of The Last of thec Witches. ful Yeldham,, a highly civilized village Co n the county of Essex, is now in abr appy a id contented frame of mind. thi t has buried the Last of the Witch a of -the end o.f the long line of Sibyls Su ;hich commenced at Endor. The~re the ave been the "Last of the Gothl." lilg he "Last of the Postboys," amdl te sul 'Last of the Potwallopers," and no bei alid rea'son can be urged why the am -itches should not have a termninal cal epresentative also. Why the poor an( ld lady should have beea regarded Jfab s the possessor of an "Evil Eye" i-s tru miystery known only to her super- mo titious fellow villagers, except, in~- mit eed, it was owing t,> the sorrows anid blu isfortunes she suffered. Her daugh- wil r died a few days ago, and her, me! rother was accidentally killed some cle: ours afterwvard. These calamities, flo istead of arousi~ng symfpathly, only fin d to a belief by the villagers that aga ie cast her evil eye on thew,becausc, the nowing her own departure was at the and, she did not wish to leave them n blu ehind. The poor old woman had a Iof t ard life among the villagers who duc >yeotted and insulted her on account so her alleged supernatural gifts, and mo tribiited every petty accidlent that to ceurred in the locality to her malign rib1 fluenee. Now she is at rest. -Lon- of I FOR WOlf8 fBERFT. Golf Hat. The St. Andrew golf hat is a thing >f exquisite simplicity if not of beauty, tnd is made of gray, brown, rusty -ed or dull green felt, and of a qual ty that shows no malice toward sun ud rain. From a low, broad, slight y sugarloaf and deeply dented crown 6pretty wide brim springs out. Over he eves it is a good deal of a roof, )ut it curls up a bit over the ears, and n the rear it is pared down rather iarrowly. At the base of the crown uns a very narrow ribbon that ex etly matches the felt and ties a min Lte double bow knot in front. Vel ret Dresses Will le Popular. Dressmakers give assurances all long the line that velvet dresses will ommand as great popularity as last 'ear. A touch or two will bring them uite up to the mode of the moment, d those who are having new and ery rich gowns made this year use elvet brightened by large embroid red dots done in a contrasting shade. t is in these velvets especially that ne sees great use of the new color nown as pigeon blood ruby, and a orgeous color it is, to be sure. On ome of the very new gowns velvet is rimmed with velvet, and ornamental uttons,large and glittering, shine out ow and again on these handsom'e oilets. he Tepid Bath L4 the Best of All Baths. i"The best of all baths is the tepid ath," says Ruth Ashmore in the La ies' Home Journal. "We hear won erful stories of English girls break ag the ice to jump into their baths. have known a great many English irls with beautiful complexions who :>ok their baths as regularly as they id any one of their meals, and their ppetites were unusually good. Every ne of them took a tepid soap bath, ud if she had no means of having a Lower she gave one to herself by ouring water over all parts of their ody, changing the temperature of :is shower so that from tepid it be %me almost, cool, but never icy cold, aving chosen your bath you must re tember that a good rubbing is a part fit. The bath that leaves you weak ned is useless-indeed, !hereas the bath rengthens ou and feel full of life and e one you need. All the eams that were ever made, all the Dwders that were ever ground up ad all the liquid beautifiers that ever cisted as untruths, will not do - one iousandth as much toward making a 4-l's complexion good as the proper byervanze-ofthe bath and: the.egr - i taking of exercise." Children with Nerves. A word about nervous children. Of murse there might be none, but Lere are thousands. Never scold em nor "make fun" of them. They fier enough without your threats or reasm. Pretend not to see their vkwardness when in company nor eir grimances when alone. A case as discussed the other day of a boy ten years old, who, on being vexed, Ld often without any apparent prey ation, will clench his hands and tke the most frightful contortions of e muscles of his face and head. His, or mother fears he is idiotie. By means. He is the brightest boy i~n s class at school, fond of reading d of natural history, but he is of a ghly nervous temperament, and has t been taught to control the little res, so to speak, on which he is ng. This is no single case. There a thousands of children who give Ly to their nerves in a like fashion. Ilk to them about these curious little lows that should be their servants, t their masters. Never chastise em. The man or woman who whips iervous child is on a level with utes that have no reason. Encourage em. Help them. Be patient with em. They are the making of ouri rcessful men and women, for they 11 work hard at whatever they un rtake. Brace up your own nerves at and then be indulgent toward the yers of your overnervous children. London Mail. Heirlooms for the Next Generation. 3rowns that will be worthy of pre vation for appreciative posterity those made this s;eason of the new mning silks and satins. In the days' Louise XV such imperially beauti fabrics were not dreamed of as tele d'Or, satin sultane and taffeta >quete. The first mentioned is a ek silk with broad bayadere ribs iatiu crossing it at short intervals. sh quality and body has this goods 3 .t the ordinary taffeta lining seems i a tissue paper under it, while satin i tan3 is duchesse satin increased in ' Luty and richness tenfold, and C og 'Aese new goods a new shade < led Montenegran red is to be seen I I admired. In contrast to these ries, dyed a solid color, are the ly exzquisite figured and embossed ires that merit all the reverent ad- I ation they receive. Over a milk' e ground of moire, for instance,a I extend sprays of moire marsh lows and ragged robin, or golden 9 natis and pink tipped daisies. The f vers stand on- always clearly de- I (I and in the tenderest colors inst the marble like paleness of 1: moire, while on the new taffetas 3 flowers are closelymassed in broad i rredl bands of glowing color. Some I hese taffetas are excellent repro- |c tions of the handsome chined silks | >opular 2-> years ago. Flowereda re and taffeta ribbon takes a place the forefrout, but the novelty is o ion showing a liberal powdering ig and little loose silk dots. Some or rather tufting them with little flossy balls has crept into great favor. A proportion of winter goods show dots, while many of the felt hats are -speckled with them. Spangled Stockings. A letter just received by one of the girls from Paris tells of the most mar velous "nouveauties" in the way of stockings. Not stockings to be worn in the street, or in the daytime at all, in fact, but stockings to be worn with slippers in the evening only. They are of silk or lisle thread and very much open worked over the ankle and in step. Sewed on, running lengthwise, are spangles and beads, which gradu ate in size from the slipper top to the end of the open work, the largest at the bottom, the smallest at the top. They are very expensive, costingeven in Paris, from $6 to $10 a pair. The spangles and beads are generally in silver and gilt, but can be in colors as well, to correspond with the color of the gown with which they are worn. Black stockings look the best when spangled, but they come also in all pale shades and even in bright red. "One of the best things about these beautiful stockings is, "this girl writes from Paris, "that for just about half what they are selling the:n at the mo distes and in the shops you can make them yourself." It cannot be difficult to sew the spangles on, and certainly the effect mast be lovely. Girls who want to look chic ibis winter would better take the hint and get to work spangling. What with-painting their gowns, sewing spa'igles' on their stockings and decoratIngtheir mantel pieces, the girls will have a busy time this winter if they want to be orna mental by learning to be usefl. Harper's Bazar. Fashion for the Hair. All the reports concerning the down fall of the elevated coiffure seem to have been without foandation. The hair is still worn perched high onI the head, and by the Freneii women higher than ever. The knot just below the crown of the bead is also worn, but' the chignon at the nape of the neck is rarely seen. A pretty comb is the only decoration at the back, just be low the high knot, and some attempt at a beaddress is the feature of evening coiffures. It has not yet attained thek. 7 dimension Dr pecimens, . othe iewelledaigrettes now, look like miniature shrubs. Theke are -jeweled wings in black, white and colors, lace wings with white aigrettes, and various arirnge ments of flowers with loops and e'4a of ribbon drawn in shell shape ana towering seven inches high. A cres cent of violets around the high knot, the 'widest part - -at the top, is very pretty, with a bow and .ends of wite oirjviolet colored ribbon-at side,.L Daudelion.-blossoms gon.e to seed are another decoration fastened in the hair with a little bow of velvet. Pompons made of ribbon to match the costume are another variety of hair ornament, and jewelled butter flies, which are to be had in all colors, and prices between $1.50 and '$15, are an exquisite hair ornament. The mode of hairdressing which makes the head look as roun. as pos sible is very desirable, and the double knot just below the crown will often accomplish this. It goes ,without say. ing that the hair is waved all around in wide, loose waves.-Newv York Sun. Fashion's Fancy. Fancy silk and mohair braid in open embroided patterns, in narrow widths, are seen in the new trimmings. Velvets are to be popular-velvet plain, miroired in fancy colors, polka dotted, with the royal finish in black and white and velvet pressed in an alligatar skin design.. Polka dotted effects appear upon new silkes and fancy satins, on laces,. pleated net and chiffon neck trim nings, velvet ribbons and black and ~olored velvets and white and colored ~henille. Hoods for evening wear have made :heir appearance in the shops. They re made of quaintly flowered silk and ined with sazin, turning back from - he face after the manner of the old ime sunbonnet. A peculiar feature of dressy cos umes is their arrangement in such a ashion that they can be worn over a ~uimpe; therefore milady may go de ~ollete or in a high cut dress with ong sleeves if it please her. Threads of silver and gold in stuffs Lnd laces brighten many gowns this eason. Just a tiny thread of gold in he white- lace forming the blouse to a ~own is pretty, and a stripe of silver ~r gold gives an added richness to a 'elvet. Strappings of black silk with a arrow knotted braid on either edge re one of the modish trimmings for cloth gown; also applique designs of rhite cloth outlined with an emnbroid red stitch in silk matching the color f the gown to which they are ap lied. Stranas Sym ptons in'a Glass Eye. The Cincinnati Enquirer tells of a ian who went to a doctoi- and said: 'Will yon kindly look into my eye nd tell me what is the matter?" "Certainly," was the -quick reply. 'hen the physicia~n opened up.the re :actory optic and began in a hurried1 lanner: "I see at a glance that you ha'e een suffering from kidney trouia. 'our liver is out of order, and there is anger of your having an atta~ck M! astritis unless the maitter is quickl.' yrrected. From the distended pn. should say that your nerves .'t:e in ebilitated condition, and thiat" "Hull up, there," came the voi Ethe patient. "Wa' the mnatter?' "Dad burn it! Yoa're looking iv..