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The news and herald. (Winnsboro, S.C.) 1877-1900, January 05, 1899, Image 1

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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..

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