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TRI--WEEKLY EDITIOiN WINNSBORO, S.C JANUARY 12, 1899 ESTABLISHED 1844.
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
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
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
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
,ih'h6 might as- well not be living
"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
A "You consider me an average
"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
"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
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
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
Was like to e sene of a hundred oaks in
the M'asti of itempty space.
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
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
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
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
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
"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
"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
"Hang the plea!"
"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
"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'
"But can't I say you are a friend of
"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.
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
"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
"How did you get him?" exclaimed
girl, her fright having given ry
"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
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
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
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
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 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 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 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'
-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
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
"I must have the money, and I must
get ashore," said the small boy,
bravely. "I must get back to the
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
"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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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. !
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