Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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TRI--WEEKLY EDITIOiN WINNSBORO, S.C JANUARY 12, 1899 ESTABLISHED 1844. THE 0 Is feet laid hold of the marl and earth, his head was in the sky. Ho had seen a thousand bulb and burst, he had seen a thousand die. And none knew when he begun to be-of trees that grew on that ground Lord of ihe wood, king of the oaks.monarch of all around. And towering so high over others the wind In his branches roared, Ye _:.ver a limb did the tempest break or shatter a bough that soared, Only the ripe young acorns it flung to the SWitrige' Whitridge lived in the suburbs. Mhen he made his confession to me he admitted that. this was a reckless thing to do wb- u one considered the inconveniens. of crossing the ferry, ... riding in a trainful of commuters, 1chstiging to a trolley carand finally groping through a dark park. But, as he explained, the heart, like the windgoes pretty much where it wills, and his had t.-ken up its abode in the old:Walton house some 12 miles from t'he city, and after all it was not so bad. Whitridge was such an indolent man that it seemed to his friends rather strange that he should have chosen to worship at a shrine that could be reached only by a veritable pilgrimage. H laziness was natural and sens-ole, -it his grandfather had dried up in an old tea warehouse on Front street and left him a million. Before that he had pottered a little in law and had eveu advanced so far as to defend a cele brated burglar known as One-eyed Grogan, who was acquitted because of the shrewdness of his counsel's cross examination and the eloquence of his plea. Then Whitridge retired from the bar and took to doing nothing. He did it well. Such a career met the severe disap proval of Dorothea Walton, who, like most women of the suburbs, was cul tured and bad ideas. Never having done any work herself except to study the labor question from its philosophic side, she believed that every man should be busy eight hours of the twenty-hour. Oak So when at length Whitridge asked her to marry him she said abruptly: "But you don't work. You arz a man Avithout an aim in life." "My grandfather worked and had -amslfor me,'' Whitridge replied. "E'ery man should do something in / Es'orld,even-if-it-is onlydriving an Iuare amastritiouambition-a ,ih'h6 might as- well not be living af ou "It -seems to me you are just a little hard," he interrupted, reproachfully. "Of course you know I like you,' Dorothea went on more kindly. "But it seems so much nobler for a man to say to a woman: 'I shal slave all day t in'the office for you,' tl.a 'I've got million and am willing to share it with you.' Now, do-esn't it?" "I think the average woman would say, TIll share the million; don't bother about the office,' " was the grim re ply. Dorothea flushed. A "You consider me an average woman, then?" "No, no!" cried Whitridge. "And if you will I shall slave for you. I'll go down town and plod along on the law,~ and we can live on what I make." "Now vou talk foolishly," said she,~ * "I do not demand work for work's sake, but.it.seems to me that for a * man to be without an occupation in these times shows a lack of brains." "But it takes a great deal of brains to do nothing and to do it respectably. And after all, I don't think vou can say that I am very bad." "No. And that's where more trouble comes. You are not even reformable. A woman might devote herself to the wvork of reforming a man, but you of fer nothing but mere money." "And love," Whitridge blurted out, and he was overcome with confusio. He blushed and began to tear nervous ly at the lapels of his coat. But his embarrassment servedI to emphasize his honesty and sincerity. The girl recognized this and said kindly: "I know I am foolish, Sam, ou I have queer ideas, perhaps. So don't talk of it any more." "Then good night," said he, rising abruptly fi'm his chair and holding out his hand. "Good night," said she. "I trust vou will be able to find your way to the street without trouble. It is very dark." "I have traveled the path often e nough to know it," he said with a forced laugh. "I guess I shall not have much reason to follow it often after this." Whitridige turned and walked from the room. Dorothea Walton stood as he had left her, gazing abstractedly into the tire. She heard the door close with a bang a few minutes later, and by a sudden impulse she ran up to her room, turned out the light and peered out into the darkness. If she expected to get a glimpse of Whitridge as he disappeared into the blackness or to hear the gravel crunching beneath his et, she was disappointed. She closed window with a crash. orothea Walton's disappointment dits origin in a door knob, one of se modern contrivances that are h a bane to the man who calls. en Whitridge reached the hall he on his overcoat and hat, opened efirst door and closed it behind m. This left him standing in the stibule. He seized the knob of the ter door. turned it and pulled,. but no avail. Then he turned thie knob other way and pulled,but the door audaam He turned and pusbed -D OAK. earth at its knees. And they sprang up themselves in their sea svn. a belt of protecting trees. But at length when the storms were over and still was the forest dell, Unbattered, unbeaten, unbroken, he bowed i himself and fell. And the breadth of that mighty clearing, when the giant had gone from his place, Was like to e sene of a hundred oaks in the M'asti of itempty space. -Hall Caine. 5 Burglar. and pushed and turned, but his ef forts were not rewarded. Now, in the 25 years of his life he had learned that locks are very human; that they resent harsh treatment and are susceptible to kindness and per suasion, so be gave this particular one a good long breathing spell, ap proached it again as though he were i afraid of disturbing it and turned it so gently that had it been sleeping it would hardly have been awakened. He went just so far and stopped. He gave it a violent jerk and a forceful jam-all to no avail. Again he rested and again attacked the obstinate mech anisin only to confess himself utterly t beaten. He thought of arousing the family, I but peering through the frosted glass into the dimly lighted hall he saw th.' the family had retired for the night. The idea of being found in such a po sition was repulsive to him. After what had occurred was he to confess I that he had been conquered by a door knob? He certainly was not, or at least until all hope was gone. He re membered that she had said that her father was in town and would be at home at 12 o'clock. It was an hour yet,but he believed that he could per suade the old gentleman to hold his peace, and that was worth long and t weary waiting. One more attack on the door knob t convinced Whitridge of the uselessness I of further efforts at freedom, so he settled down in a corner and made himself as comfortable as possible f under the circumstances. As he sat there on the floor of the dark vestibule he forgot his unpleasant predicament t and fel to thinking of her, and as he thought of her he forgot all else. The sleeping man was awakened by i a gentle dig in the ribs,and he opened his eyes into the dim glare of a dark lantern.. He ,tried to raise him bhn e was-forceback to a prostrate con- er. lition He would have cried ont, but heavy hand was clasped over his dr aouth. ho From the blackness behind the ]an ern came a hoarse whisper: th "S-sh! Mr.Whitridge, it's me,Gro- to au, who you got off. You ain't goin' o be hurt." ph Whitridge was wide awake now,and Y he situation camne to him in a flash. Ife recalled his one client. and, though th 2e realized the man's missioi at the n Walton house,h3 felt that to him Gro- af ;an was a messenger sent from heaven th :o release him from the toils. The p~ veight was removed from the chest, mnd the hand from his mouth aftera mother admonitory "S-sb." 'to The lawyer got to his knees and th eaning toward the dark form of his lnundam client seized the grimy hand mad squeezed it affectionately. "Can't P1 vou -get mc out, Grogan?" he whis-- e aered.. T There was a chuckle. The light l guivered in evidence of the amusement f the man who held it.t "Can't you?" repeated Whitridge. "S-sb!" Grog;an answered. "Turn he about 'nd be fair play, seein' ez you a saved me once from the jug." to "But I'm not a burglar," Whitridge expostulated. "It looks suspicious," was the re ply. The light quivered again and I more violently. "You seem anxious at to get away without a row." Whitridge was in no mood for jok ig. "Now, see here, Grogau," he said, "I did you a good turn not long ago, se as you remember. I got yon off when re I really had reason to believe you guilty. As--" wV "Oh, but that was a plea o' yours, b Mister Whit--" "Hang the plea!" "S-sh!" "All that I ask is that you silence your conscience, disr'egard your suspi- 1 cions and let me go my way." "I can't. It looks like we're both caught," said the burglar. Whitridge s heard a muttered oath and a reference ~ to the door knob. "Can't you open :t?" he asked. al "No," answered Grogan. "1 might c) have once, ,but it's been jammed all out o' shap'e. 'I cant go back,nuther." r, "How in the world did you get in?" f, "Why, me an' me pal come through the cellar window, of course. He stayed below and gathered up the sil ver while I went upstairs. I goes t into a room there, an' hardly was I at work till I hears a woman begin to a git restless. Had it been a man I'd stayed, for a man'li mostly cover up his head and lay still, but a womant allers yells. So f sneaked. Bill, he t went through the winder with the main part of the swag an' all the tools, an' I come this way. Here I am. On e door's closed, so I can't go back; e t'other I can't open.'' c "This is a pretty kettle of fish, i moaned Whitridge. S "Fish? Burglars you mean," re torted Grogan. "But where's yotur swag" "See here,Grogan," said Whitridge. "I got in here honestly,and I'm goio~ to getou onesmti. The peonle are; riends of mine, and I think I'll just ,ive the alarm." "How about me?" said the burglar. 'I don't think they're on my wisitin' ist." "But can't I say you are a friend of nine?" "A pretty time this fer frien's to be ocked up in vestybules,particular with >ockets full o' spoons an' things like his." Grogan held a handsome port olio in the light of the lantern. "I ,ot it in her room while lookin' fer ewelry an' bills. Kin yon read?" He opened the leaves and turned the ight full on a page covered with an ular handwriting. A long silence ollowed, during which the burglar -an his finger along the lines and pelled out word after word. "Why, it's about a fellow," he mut ered. "She must 'a had 'em bad. 'If e'd only come back tome.' she says." "Says what?" exclaimed Whitridge, rasping his companior's arm. "S-sh! She says if he'd only come )ack she'd a-c-c-e-p-t him an'-" Whitridge seized the portfolio. "It's woman's diary," he said, roughly, ud you have no right to look at it." Then, fixing it in the lantern light o suit his own eyes, he read the last try: Eleven P. w. What a fOVl I Lm. I have just refused him; told him hat he was a numbskull; ranted about Lims and ambitions; aired all my fine deas, and yet when he had gone I istened just to hear his footsteps as ie picked his way along the path to he street. Women are geese. If mnly he would come back I would beg is forgiveness and accept him. If he vould only come back." Whitridge snapped the portfolio hut and and arose. "Grogan," he said firmly, "we must et out of this at once. Never mind ow. I'll take care of you and plead our case at another bar." "Jest wait," growled the burglar. 'mebbe " A strong hand was laid on his throat, nd he was lifted to his feet and thrown riolently against the door. There was a crash of glass, a femin ne scream, followed by an uproar on he upper floors of the house. "Never mind, Dorothea, "arose from he vestibule. "It's only me, Sam Vhitridge. I've got a burglar. Hurry [own here and let me out of this cell." "Is it really yoa, -Sam?" came in rightened tones to Whitridge, who had rogan pinned fast in a corner. "'Elp,miss, 'elp! He's chokin' me o deat'!" "Yes, it's I. Don't be scared." In answer to these cries Dorothea Valton, attired in a long driving coat Lnd carrying a golf club, led.a line of ive maids,similarly armed, wn the he door was opaitridge igged his captiv efore the usehold. "How did you get him?" exclaimed girl, her fright having given ry astonishment. "Don't bother about that now," re ed Whitridge,nonchalantly. "Have a a good closet close by." Dorothea ran to the distant end of hal and threw open a door. Whit lge pulled the discomfited Grogan :er her, while the maids made a eatening demonstration against the isoner with their golf clubs. "Plead 'ard, Mister Whitridge,plead d," moaned the burglar as his cap -pushed him into the closet,closed e door and turned the key. "What does the creature mean?" "Compose yourself, Dorothea," re ied the young man, coolly. "First us have some lights in the library. uen I shall explain." The suggestion was quic'ly fol wed, and wvhile the six servants tched the door behind which lay e captive, Sam Whitridge explained. "The man thinks, and rightly,too," said, "that he has a claim on you a me, inasmuch as he showed this me." He dre~w the diary from his eket and opened it at the last entry. have been mean enough to read it." Dorothea Walton took the portfolio, oked blankly at the man and then the last page. "Am I forgiven?" Whitridge asked. The girl seated herself at the table a seized a pen. "There is' one more entry," she .id. "Look over my shoulder and ad it." She glanced at the clock and then rote: "Two A. xi. He has come uk, and I have accepted him,"--N. :cA. L., in New York Evening Sun. QUAINT AND CURIOUS One pound of Indian tea will make T strong cups of tea. Among the Kols of Central India a 2am fight always accompanies the eddig ceremnony. The two little islands of Zanzibar ad Pempa furnish four-fifths of the oves consumed by the world. Some wonderful stalactite caves have cently been discovered eight miles -om Krugersdorp, in the Transvaal. Bees are said to see an enormous istance. When absent from their ive they go up in the air till they see 2eir home, and then fly toward it in straight liue. Wlass is being extensively used for hurch bells. It canU be toughened so eat there is no risk of it eracking, and ie tone is said to b.e beyoad anyvthinig et nvented, perfect. soft, and sono The little town of P'eenliar, in Case ounty, Mo.. got its name in raither a urions mauner. Its founde:-s got to a co'ntroverA' oer what they hould christei it. anid finally they eferred the matter to the p)ostoffice e rtment, saying they diln't care that namec was givea the place so lonig s it was peculiar. One of the Wash ngtoa otke:als tl~ea. inl a spirit of wag ;ery, na:mel it accordingly. - $ CHILDREN'S L 0 The Wee On Vishes. I wisht I was a drate bi, The bigges' ever seen 'En nights 'at wasn't T nas Eve I'd make 'em Hollow ' An' 'en I'd go an' tell a, -See here, you, pa!" Y'. "Now you jus' dare to me in When I go out to pla I wisht I was A king! I wisht I was a drate - 'n" I'd buy some tickets , 'At I could see the cir a I dess I'd let pa go, But ef he made me ste at My jogerfy I jus' use like as not Would leave him hom u He'd aggervate an' I wisht I was A king! I wisht I was a drate king, I know what i'd dr, th A boy 'at always chase ,. His name is Bobby i4 ith! I'd buy a big perlicem 's club, A dog, an' 'en a gun An' 'en I'd say to Bob Smith, "You dasn't make in run!" I wisht I was A king! I wisht I was a drate king, I'd bring my mamm ere, Pa says she' sup ere in he skies, An' 'en he calls me,: His eyes gets full of tri es, too, 'En he don't speak a 11. I dess I'd go an' get m ma, Ef I was not so sma' I wisht--.. I was A king! -Hobart in B timore American. Voracious .t tie Robins. A would-be pI.i inthropist relates his experiences try g to play mother to a nest of littl 'I ins,who,by some accident had be aileprived of their rightful mother' 4are. He diligently set to work digga g angle worms, and supposed that ,ie was fulfilling his whole dntv.wher one of the poor little songsters died. 'Upon examination of the body, whic was reduced to skin and bone, the fster parent came to the conclusion at it must have died of starvation. Deeply grieve at his shortcoming, he redoubled efforts, determined to at least save ,-e other two. It was not long, how er, before a second ono died, ev _ently of the same malady. The g man then resolved that whateverW: third one died of it should not bestarvation, and took off his coat an 'tat to work in ear gge worms u he foun that his I one little bird s consuiiidg from fourteen to eighteen yards of angle wrms a day. - was too much for his patienceand i proceeded to sub stitute the more- e sily managed diet f bread and milk and other delicacies which were, however, not nearly so much to Miss Robin's taste. Wanting to discover whether he had been catering to a family of abnormal apetites, our friend took to watching te methods of a real mother bird,and fond that she fed her young every wo minutes. He then consulted the arned books upon birds, and dis overed that fourteen yards of worms day with meals every two minutes is he average rate of feeding fledglings. e has therefore quite decided that e does not care to take up raising birds by hand.-Bostonl Transcript. The Messenger Boy. A district messenger boy, not very arge, was sent with a telegram to one of the transports going to Cuba from ew York. He was given a reply. e did not know what the message ould cost, so he carriedl it to the flice, and was sent back to collect the money from the sender on the transport. When he returned to the transport, everything was in a state f hurry and confusion. This small boy did not know the ays of boats about going to sea, so e ran fearlessly up the gang-plank, and hurried about to find the man ho was to pay for the telegram. While he was searching he felt a otion. He was paralyzed; the boat was moving! He hurried on deck, to see a great sheet of water between the boat and the dock. His mother, his ome, the company with its rules, the loss of his work and Cuba! There was war in that small boy's mind. How e wanted to keep still and go! But there was ao much to leave. He turned and faced the officer who sent the message. "I must have the money, and I must get ashore," said the small boy, bravely. "I must get back to the ffice." The officer was puzzled. After a minute's thought he disappeared, leaving the small boy in a tremor of ope and fear. If they could not put him ashore, there was Cuba; but there were his mother and the children~and o wages. He must get ashore. The boat was far out in the stream and headed toward the bay. He heard voices calling and answer ing. A tugboat came alongside. The officer hurried, took the small hoy by the shoulder, ani gave him orders about getting over the side of the boat and aboava the tug. In a few min utes he fonnd himself on a pier, and ran with all his might to the office. He was two hours late, and the super' Iintendent was angry. The boy told his story. and paid the money for the telegromus. "Wel! done," said the superintend ent. "I shall remember you." The other boys -are louging for call fro'm a boat sound for Cuba. Soe sav y wilty onl hoard and. see somoething of thme world. Johnny s1V.. --Wait till you see the water be tweeni von and t'ie dock; you will fee adrent.".-Otlook. Captain Sigsbee's Dog. You have heard of "Peggie," the pup dog on the U. S. S. Maine when she was blown up. Peggy is now at Key West. She is a pretty little dog. She was a tiny puppy when first given to the captain of the Maine, a little more than a year ago, and was very fall of fun and mischief. She always slept in the cabin, and amused her self by "worrying" any shoes she found, and dragging about anything she could, as most puppies do. She always followed the captain every where, no matter how many steps and ladders were to be climbed. This caused her to break her leg one day. The leg was put in splints, but Peggie could not keep still enough to have it knit properly, so when she was well this leg was a little shorter than the other. Peggie was very fond of rushing at the waste-paper basket and dragging out the contents. She would whine and cry in a very funny way when she could not get them out. She re garded with great saspicion any one in civilian dress coming on board the Maine, and barked at all who were not in uniform. She could turn a somersault if you held her head down a second. One day she came into the cabin with a chicken bone sticking out of one side of her mouth, and a pretty nasturtium blossom in the other side. She looked so cute that I wish I had the picture to show you. One ear stuck up and the other down, giving her a very comical expression. She knew just what she wanted to do. Laying the flower carefully down in the corner, she took the bone into an other and proceeded to eat it. After the bone had been disposed of she took the flower in her mouth again, and finally left it at the captain's feet. Once she was taken driving at Key West and while the carriage was in motion she jumped out of the vehicle on one side and into it on the other, un til the person she was with feared she would break all her legs. Afterward she thought the horses' tails were meant especially for her to play with, so over the dashboard to bite the tails, and down under the horses' feet she went. But she was not hurt and soon sprang into the carriage again.-St. Nicholas. Emerson and the Woodpeckcr Story. No squirrel works harder at his pine-nut harvest than the carpenter woodpeckers in autumn at their acorn harvest, says John Muir in the At lantic, drilling hotes in the thick, curly bark of the yellow pine and incense cedar, in which to store the crop for -s.12a gad. acorn so. thent foremost,is driven in, it fi well that it cannot be drawn .without digging around it. Each acn is thus carefully stored in a dry bin', perfectly protected from the weather, a most laborious method of stowing away a crop, a granary for each kernel. Yet they never seem to weary at the work, but go on so dili gently they seem determined that every acorn in the grove shall be saved. They are never seen eating acorns at the time they are storing them, and it is commonly believed that they never eat them or intend to eat them, but that the wise birds store them and protect them solely for the sake of the worms they are supposed to contain. Ju~d because these worms are too small for use at the time the acorns drop,they are shut up like lean calves and steers each in a separate stall with abundance of food to grow big and fat by the time they will he most wanted, that is in winter, when insects are scarce and stall-fed worms mst valuable. So these woodpeckers are supposed to be a sort of cattle raisers, each with a drove of thou sands,rivaling the cats that t'aise grain and keep herds of plant lice for milk cows. Needless to say, the story is not true, though some naturalists even believe it. When Emerson was in the park, having heard the worm story, and seen the great pine plugged full of acorns, he asked (just to pump me, I suppose), "Why do the woodpeckers take the trouble to put acorns into the, bark of the trees?" "For the same reason," I replied, "that bees store honey and squirrels nuts." "But they tell me, Mr. 3Muir, that wood peckers don't eat acorns." "Yes, they do," I said, "I have seen themi eating them. During snowstorms they seem to eat little beside acorns. I have repeatedly interrupted them at their meals, and seen the perfectly sound, half-eaten acorns. They eat them in the shell as some people eat eggs." "But what about the worms?" "I suppose," I said, "that when they came to a wormy one they eat both worm and acorn. Anyhow, they eat the sound ones when they can't find anything they like better, aud from the time they store them until they are used they guard them, and woe to the squirrel or jay caught stealing." Pet Spaniel Had Twenty Doctors. Despite the skill of nineteen veter inary surgeons and four of the best physicians in St. Louis, 3Mo., MIovie, a han dsome King Charles spaniel be longing to Mrs. Emma Parker, died a a few days ago and was buries with more hionors than many people pay to a member of the faily. Thedo was wrapped i a white shroud, care fully placed in a corbn and buried in S t. ou s county. All the women friends of Mrs. Parker atteuded the funeral. A post-mot tema exaimatuu revealed the cause of death as peach Movie had been ill several months. When the doctors could not discover his ailment Mrs. Parker applied to a Christiah seientist. The hatter wanted $ for a book on the docrtrine. Mrs. Parker was willinig to, pay the mioney, but she would not digzest the hook. No he had to abandon hope of Chiitiani s-in-Nw York Herald. FOR 011'sEENEFIT.~ Wedding Gowns of Philippine Brides. There is a cloth here, writes a cor respondent from Manila, which is manufactured of pineapple fibre, and is called pinas cloth. The texture is as delicate as a spider's web, and in the hands of the women is fashioned into the most wonderful designs. I have seen small handkerchiefs which cost $100 apiece, and lace sleeves which run as high as $200 apiece. When a Philippine lady of the bet ter class gets married she sometimes wears as her wedding dress a costume of native manufacture that reaches in value up into four figures. It takes months to make a handkerchief or a sleeve or a neckerchief, so micro scopic and delicate is the fabric. Con sidering the costliness of the finer kind of native needlework, it is hardly probable tlrat the soldiers will take home many trunkfuls for exhibition purposes. -Chicago Record. A Woman's Clever Idea. A very pretty and amiable young woman of the District, "born and raised" in Georgetown, held down for seven years, and up to the begin ning of the present aiministratiou, a very comfortable departmental billet. When she lost her place, more than a year ago, she sat down and thought out schemes to earn a living. She had no trade, couldn't handle a type writer, knew nothing about steno graphic pothooks, hadn't the least idea how to trim a hat or make a dress. Her only proficiency consisted in her abil ity as a clerk. and she didn't care to take a $3 or $.!-a-week clerkship out of the governmental service. Finally she hit upon a plan. She realized that the average woman regards it as a considerable task to go to the hair dresser's to have her hair shampooed. So the young woman decided to be como a visiting hair shampooer. She had sc:>res of women friends, among whom she was very popular, and she sent each of them a neatly printed circular, containing the information that she was about to embark in the business of shampooing women's hair. After the sent out the circulars he went around and say ,he women to whom they had been sent. She was welcomed by all of them, to a wom an, with the greatest of cordiality, and she started on her rounds with her shampooing outfit in a neat little satchel. The business was a go from the start, at the rate of 50 er shampoo. From the she has iade more lerk, and just now she has more pat rons than she can attend to. She t keeps governmental hours, and she t verages $3 a day. She has started a t regular system of bookkeeping ac ording to the calendar, and is ex pected to visit all of her patrons every f onth or six weeks. She rejoices in the independence which the nature of her occupation gives her, and has no yearning whatever to re-enter the em loyof Uncle Sam.-Washington Star. .Smart Skating Costumes. All these gay colors of cloth make a florid and not ineffective show on the pons and in the rinks, where the1 whir of steel on ice rises on the frosty air. A plain skirt. ankle long, with a vivid flannel or velveteen bodice, is just about the most graceful and be coming thing a skater can assume. Camel's hair serge is wvhat the skirt is made of and the most startling comn binat ions in color prevail until the rinks resemble carnival gatherings. The biggest and brightest buttons flash on upper, as well as nether gar mnents, and some of these are huge polished pewter buttons, such as are made and worn by Dutch men and women on the frozen canals of Hol Pretty skating costumes from Paris are resplendent with far or fancy braid and gay with silver buttons that are in reality tiny bells, jingling out fairy music at every motion of the wearer. The skirts of such suits are cut close at the hip and somewhat full below the knees, enabling the wearer to move with freedom, and adding greatly to the snm of grace. Turbans of astrakan, broad tail and Persian lamb are what the smart skaters wear. These are rond, cap-shaped things, with a tuft of bright feathers like a shaving brush sticking up in front and held by a pin of Russian silver. Every other woman, whether her frock is silk or serge, has depending from the rear of her basque a species of tail which is bound to excite inter est, if not applause. It was fully ten years ago that basques resigned their rear appendages, but, like M~ary's little lambs, they are back in fashion, every one with its tail behiid it. Sometimes the tail toa mere bunch of ribbon ends; scarcely larger than the sort of thing a rabbit wears, againm they are beetle-wing-shaped and fall nearly to the knee. Coa' ee, habit, postiion and swallowv tails are the species most frequently sesn at pre~ sent, and whether they are pretty or not is another matter; the tailora say they have come to say.--St. Louis G1 >e-Deorat. For th" Rlainy season.. Handles that screw and unscrew are sold in cases for the use of one umbreila, and very charming wvedding and birthday presents these make. They are rather expensive, as, indeed. ma well be expected, when gold and silver odd pieces of china, ivory and enamel are pressed into their service. Colored umbrellas ars being useds; these are extravagant, for they must match the costume with which they go. They are small as to size. and are carried unf~Ahld. so that tho bright splash of color they make looks well agins the diess. it is r. good idea where several um brellas are found an impossible piece )f extravagance to buy one of father a bright color to coincide with the trim ing of a hat or a stock worn; or it night be the same hue as a smart yoatee. This is a sort of notion tbas :ives a costume an extra touch of chie, iud so is worth a special effort to achieve. Among the handles seen you will otice a little frog in green enamel perched on a twig stick, an orchid on another, an apple and pear and a gince are also displayed, and a fero ious-looking snake with its ugly moth wide open. This carried out in enamel or fancy wood has quite a brilliant effect. Plaid umbrellas are for the moment a great feature. I fancy this vogue for colored parapluies has arisen as a result of the dry summer we havi had. After all, they are more usefuI to play with than to put to practical ends. They came out in Paris at onj of the smart races in -the early spring, and so have arrived here now. One general rule may be taken, however, and that is that the old-fashioned large umbrella is almost as extinct a4 the dodo, and may it remain so, for it was heavy and cumbrous, and always getting in other people's way. The man who invented the slender tube stick, which is so light and yes so strong, deserves a moiment all to himself. It puts to shame the bulky weapon with which we used to be so contented. Actually we thought it was a blessing, that old cumbrous parapluie, observing in pictures tho gamps our ancestresses (not so very far back a date, either,) used to have to wield. No wouler they had to have maids or men servants to carry these won derful canopies over their heads what time they hobbled along on curi ous clogs, or pattis, to keep their feet and skirts out of the mire.-Lon don Mails. Mistakes in Hairdressing. Fashion is the cause of most of the errors of taste we make, whether ia respect to our costumes or our hair arrangements. Hundreds of girls adopt the newest style,which can only suit a small percentage of them, sinca faces and figures are so various. Cyn thia looks beautiful-tall, slim, grace fiil, classic-featured Cynthia -wit;L her golden hair simply, rippled back from the brow and coiled in a spirat knot at the extreme back of her head; Janet, the round-nosed, sallow little lassie who is Cynthia's friend, -must then sacrifice the curly fringe whicim softened the effect of her sloped fore head and tie her dark locks back to the Greekknot b2hi!a ust because "k ' ykSo aw9u0 -te ase. Then comes in a difficult ques ion for Cynthia to decide. Is she to 1 Janet that she had made a mis ke, to suggest that a classic profi:e needed by such hairdressing,there y saying, - practically, "I am beauti a, but g-ou are plain," or is she to t her friend continue in ignorance her error? If friendship is the cause of some uch instances, the love for fashion ro alts i many more. Society folk take o dressing the hair high, in the ourt manner, and they are necessanily nitiated by the assistants in leading nillinery establishments (for hats and onnets have to be built to suit the atest coiffures), but why should womi in all over the wvorld begin to do like vise? The plain effect *of the hair trawn tightly up from the back of the ieck looks remarkablyugly uder the sailor hat in which the country girl. is nostly seen; that there are coils hi I len in the crown will not make up f or he loss of them below. The male :ritic p obably asks, in tones of deep Luxiety:What has become of all Miss E'rivels' pretty hair?" Phrenologists know that the che icter is expressed by the shape of the - lead, and that where one person has m graceful fall from the summit of .he~ rown to the nape, another will have a eries of undulations. Girls often emplain: "My hair won't keep up i i try to do it up high," or "low," as the case may be, which proves tid t U the head is not suited to the style in-. flicted upon it. Only careful consideration of. the matter will teach a woman in what fashion it is best for her to dress. h'er hair. She must study the questo.R., looking-glass in hand, and can a's advice from all her .artistic_ minde L friends. if she cannot strust ner o- a judgment, but when the decision has . been arrived at, let her abide by it deferentially and decline to make her self ridiculous by the adoption of - stles absolutely unsuited to her lace and figure. -Philadelphia Times. ! yashion Notes. Fine velvety ladies' ctoth in exquias ite light and deep cohbrs is impor:e L. It is figred with medium-sized dots. i silk chenille. A novelty in fancy braids for t trmmings is a production of rise paper, soft, velvety and attraclive in efect, but plaited simply. Near y everything in the neckweew line, w hether of net, taffeta or mon3 seine de scia, is edged with na-re~ ribon put on plain or gathered. Flowers are seldom seen on the nevt ba as. havi.;g been discarded as trnt~" ming-ude? tie L:'ims, and it is pro y abe that they will not be used este sivly th- winter. Collars &. taffeta silk are made w)~' a plain baud, with a backle on tIJ side, with abow or rosette at, -t4 bck, and forming a regular stoe? with a snil bow at the front. Rbbons are not so much seen , the new bats, with the exception f litle ~arrow~ ribbons put on in .~a form f? scroll work or shirred iato - crkli e rect and forming a fabric ...i:h .i.. gronnd fr- dainty boi