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rare and radiant. Outside garments grow lonfcer and longer. /rather bandit will be used for trimming hats. Bonnets grow larger, and the poke shape prevails. SiifvER gray is revived as a fashionable dress olor. Plaixlt mad* dresses are again worn by a select few. Shirred collars on wraps have taken the place I hoods. Boots now take the place of shoes for promeBade wear. Unbleached lace is very fashionable for trim iin<r dresses. Small pelerines accompany every fashionable traveling dress. The rage at the moment is for embroidery in dress trimmings. Toi*r\tres of stiff mohair are worn when any tournure is needed. For children what is calledthe American frock remains fashionable. Long cloaks, enveloping the whole person, win be worn in midwinter. Silver ornaments and fancy rolled gold Jewelry remain in high favor. Collars of dresses are worn so large that they can scarcely be told from caj>e9. Bor.ni>, plain, plaited, shirred, pointed and beited bodices are all fashionable. opaqi e Pearl and Oriental jet jewelry is worn with steel-gray silks for hall-mourning. Elegant Cloth Jackets for fall wear are made tight-fitting and double-breasted. If any Fall Bonnets are trimmed with moire, and have long, wide strings of the same. Sile and Sirah Dresses are much trimmed with puffings combined with borders of lace. Scarfs ot chenille and of black Spanish lace re very fashionable to wear over light dresses. Tub "John" redingote, an English afTair, resembling a coachman's livery, is still 1q great favor. Piffs of Surah, instead of frills, are frequently seen in the neck and at the wrists of imported dresses. Straight Linen Bands are revived for collars; the cuffs to match are square, and fastened with Bnked buttons. Monograms, ciphers and initials play a prominent j>art in the ornamentation of toilets and their accessories. a i;reat Deal of Irish point embroidery and laces is used on dresses of surah designed for dinner or evening wear. Larch Crosses are again very fashionable as pendants, supported by a large cable chain half resting on the shoulders. White Evening Toilets of the richest de cription are destined togreater popularity than ever the coming winter season. The popularity of shirring remains unchanged, and every part of a dress that can be gathered Is drawn up into innumerable gaugings and line puffs. Want Fall Bonnets of large size are trimmed With a wreath of roses or other flowers within i tbe brim, while feathers, pompons and plush or wide ribbons trim the outside. The most popular flowers for bonnet trimsaings at the moment are pansies, irises, pelargoniums, nasturtiums and azaleas of velvet, richly tinted according to nature. The return of moire to the world of fashion is received with enthusiasm by the dames and dowairers. The attempt being made to render It a popular fabric for youthful toilets will fail. Costly Enamels in the Benvenuto style, with lockets either sacred or profane made by the famous Froment Meurice, are suspended from the delicate chatelaines of gold or silver, now so Ifcshionably worn. Elegant Plush Goods having an extremely long and heavy pile, and showing broad stripes of satin of a deeper or contrasting color, brightened by small flower brocades woven in clusters, are among tlie most expensive dress accessories of the season. There is just now a special fancy for silver 1 jewelry. Long lace pins of silver are used as ! brooches and necklaces, which fasten closely around the high collar of the dress, and are ' formed of one. two or three strands of round silver beads. Lace pins in bail pattern are very ! popular. The mode ot wearing panlers combined with the clinging skirt, either short or trained, seems to find fresh favor iu autumn toilets. These paniers a- now worn are composed of short full draperies rounded over the hips in true Watteau fashion, and are usually made of a material different from the tablier or petticoat, and are frequently matched to that of the train. It ls too early to speak definitely as to what will be worn during the coming season. Buyers are busy abroad: goods are constantly arriving, and every day the windo vs of our large stores display f're^h novelties, but what is actually to j be the fashion later on. when the absentees all return and society is "at home"' once more, only ' a prophet or a daughter of a prophet can tell. 1 a i'retty Dress for a little girl of 6 or 7 years i Is made of silver gray surah. The skirt is slashed i around the foot and filled in with fan pleatings of turquoise-blue surah. The back is covered 1 with a bouffant drapery, and theTyroleant peas- < *nt s Jacket has a shirred vest of blue surah, and ] is fastened behind with turquoise-blue and steel buttons. At Jhe bottom of the basque in the 1 back is set a broad bow and ends of turquoise- i blue moire and satin ribbon. a vert beautiful faftric of changeable Turk- 1 Ish satin shading in the sunlight from a deep Venetian green to a rich golden hue is among 1 the elegant novelties in fall dress materials! ! The fabric can be elegantly combined with dark 1 gr*en or deep admiral blue velvet or plush with pelerine facings and cuffs of the latter material 1 or trimmed with tiny plaited frills of the game' 1 with panels and revers of bronze or golden 1 green surah of a very deep shade. ' a Great many bright shades are shown in ( ttie new materials; still, quiet dark colors will i ^heretofore prevail for out-door wear, and. in- i deed, for all ordinary occasions. Fine cashmeres In rose pink, in cherry, and in old gold, as well ] as in the delicate shades, which belong excluaivelv to evening, will be worn verv much for i all dresses, a great deal of shirring will be used on these dresses, the cashmere being com- ] Dined with surah, and trimmed with quantities of cream-tinted lace. a noveltv of the season 4 is lace in shades to match the new colors, but it ] is prof-able that the preference will still be for i black and white or cream-tinted laces. < The new Persian or Roman striped, brocaded, or plaided goods in silk or wool, which are now exhibited among fall dress fabrics, are strongly 3 recommended to ladies who wish to remodel 1 their own or their children's last year's suits with comparatively little expense. Even though 1 these handsome goods seem high in price, but 1 two or three yards are required to change a 1 plain dress of dark blue, green, brown, or black into a bright attractive costume; as mingling tbe gay-colored material with the plain mate- 1 mis on the skirt, and adding a plastron or panels, with shoulder cape, deep cuffs and pockets, quite transforms a simple dress into an attractive costume suitable for any ordinary occasion. I Polonaises promise to be another feature of fee season, and the pattern openings show aaveral flew designs*, most of which are open in lront and much bunched up in the back. Indeed, from the new plates, it would appear that dresses are to be very bouffant at the back, and while hoopskirts are unknown in fashionable Parisian circles, bustles are almost universally worn. Some of the new French models look like caricatures, with waists drawn in to the smallest circumference, the skirts forming great puffs on the hips and in^he back, perfectly flat In front, and the sleeves either the Medici puff or the old-fashioned leg-o'-inutton with Its immense puff above the elbow and very tight belcw. School Flours in England, Germany and France. The J(Atmai af Educaiuyn, basing its estimates npon the number of hours given to various studies in eighteen leading public schools, calcu that the average number of hours a week ^ yn-l^h publlc school is about twenty-six It titirty-onc in a gymnasium and forty hm0- ,reck?nlng the hours or preparation, lju ?* ? ccouut the holidays, which are long la England as they are on w . r ds that the working hours of an English, German and French boy in secondary schools are In the ratio or five, eight and af,* ,? f "objects taught, though (mrs are now few public schools in which science teaching is wholly ignored, classics still lorn the staple of our education. An English lower school boy gives fourteen hour* a week jrmore than half his time, to classics; a Freuch Jyeden devotes twenty-eight hours a week, for las first three years, to his native tongue; he ess not begin Latin till tbe second i?eriod, or Gw?ek till the third?that is, till he has been six J?an st scbooL NEEDLE AND THREAD. An old bachelor?" said Honora Maywood. " That's what he told me, just In so many words," said Mrs. Pennypacker, who stood on the threshold of her best room, with her hgad tied up In a pocket-handkerchief, and a hairbroom in her hand, wherewith she gesticulated after a tragic fashion, as she talked, while Miss Maywood, tall and slender as a wild lily, stood in the hall, with a roll of music under her arm, and her slight figure wrapped in a shabby black shawl. "And he's willing to pay my price, cash down, every Sunday night. Never attempted to beat me down a penny, if you'll believe it, my dear." "Why should he?" said Honora. " Most people do, my dear." said Mrs. Pennypacker. "A Jwrinkled old widow woman like me. who has her living to earn, is mostly fair game for everybody. But he never objected to my terms. A real gentleman, my dear?every inch of him. Bat he's a little particular, I m afraid." ? ? ,ri " I suppose most old bachelors are, said Miss Maywood, smiling. " Yes, mv dear?yes!" nodded Mrs. Pennypacker. "But this" gentleman is beyond the average. I think." "And if he is?" " Nothing," says Mrs. Pennypacker. making a dab with her broom-handle at a stray mothmillfr which was fluttering blindly against the garnet damask window curtains; "nothing, except that one don't* quite know where to have hiin. He drinks only English breakfast tea, and he wants his pie-crust made with the best Alderney butter, instead of lard, as is good enough for other people; and he must have ventilators to all the windows, and an open grate; instead of the base-burning stove; and?I hope you'll not be offended, my dear?but he particularly dislikes a piano." "Dislikes a piano?" said the little music teacher, reddening, in spite of herself. " And he says, says he: 'I hope, Mrs. Pennypacker, that there is no piano in the house. A piano,' says he, 'plays the deuce with ray nervous system, with its everlasting tuin, turn!' Those "were his words, my dear. So I courtesys, and says I: 'You'll not be troubled with one here, sir.' And so, my dear, I'll be grateful if you won't mind doing your practicln' until he's out for his daily walk?from 1 to 3, just as regular as the clock." Miss Maywood looked piteously up in the old landlady'sface. " I will do anything to oblige you. Mrs. Pennypacker," she said, earnestly. "I haven't forgotten how much I am indebted to you, both In actual money, and in kindness, which money can never repay." And her soft blue eyes filled with tears as she spoke. " My dear, don't say a word " said Mrs. Pennypacker, hastily, "You've been sick, and you've got a little behindhand, and it's quite "natural you should be a little low-spirited now and then. But you musn't get discouraged. Things will look up, after awhile. And you're quite welcome to stay on here, until you're able to settle up your little account." Honora Maywood sighed as she remembered how often her little advertisement had been inserted in the daily newspaj>er8, without attracting the least notice from the world of patrons and pupils. There were so many "capable music teachers, willing to give lessons at moderate prices," nowadays, and how was any one to know-how sorely she needed the money? And. as the time crept on, and no pupilscame, Honora began seriously to ask herself whether she should go out in some menial capacity, or stay genteelly at home and starve. "Clothes, ma'am!" ' Honora started from her reverie as the washerwoman's stumpy little girl banged herself, like a human battering-ram. up against the door, witli a preposterously lar<& basket on her arm. "Yes," said Honora, coloring. "Put them down, Sally. But I?I'm afraid it isn't convenient to pav your mother to-day." " Mother didn't say nothin' 'bout the pay," said Sally, wiping her forehead with a whisk of her arm,"and sniffing herseif well nigh off her feet. "I was to leave the clothes, with her 'umble duty, and she 'oped they'd suit: but It was that damp and muggy on Monday and Tuesday as starch wouldn't stick. And she 'opes you'll excuse all mistakes, as they shall be done better next time." " I dare say they are quite right," said Honora, with a little s'igh, as she marveled at this unexpected access of courtesy on the part of her Milesian laundress. But when Sally had stumped off down stairs, her flapping slippers beating a sort of tattoo as she went, and Miss Maywood took off the fringed towel that covered the basket of clothes, she jave a little start. " Shirts," said Honora, "and socks, and turn- i [>ver collars No. 16, and great big pocket-hand- 1 kerchiefs, like the sails of a ship, and white 1 vests, and?goodness me, what does it all mean? Mrs. Mulvey has sent me some gentleman's ward- i robe by mistake. I must send these things 1 back at once." But then Miss Maywood looked down at the articles in grave consideration, " I never had a brother," mused Miss Maywood; "and I can't remember my father; but of 1 this I am quite certain?if I had either one or the other, I should thank any girl to mend their dilapidated wardrobes, if they looked like this. And Mrs. Mulvey can't send "before night, and 1 unfortunately I've nothing to do, so I'll just J mend this poor young fellow's clothes, whoever 1 tie may be. A halt-starved theological student, 1 perhaps, training for the Polynesian Islands; or perhaps a newspaper reporter, or a pale clerk. 1 under the dazzling skylights of some dry goods 1 palace. At all events, he's worse off than I am i for he can t mend his own clothes, and I can." ! And the smiles dimpled around Honora May- 1 wood"8 little rosebud of a mouth, as she sat 1 down to darn holes, sew on tapes and insert 1 patches. 41 He'll never know who did it," said Honora 1 to herself; "but, I dare say. he'll be thankful: 1 and if one can get a chance to do a little good 1 in this world, one ought not to grudge one's 1 time and trouble." 1 And as Honora stitched away, she mused 1 ?adiy whether or not she ought to accept a po- 1 ntion which had offered itself of assistant ma- ' tron in an orphan asylum, where the work i would be almost unendurable, and the pay next to nothing, with no Sundavs nor holidays, and I i ladies' committee, consisting of three starched i old maids, to "sit" upon her the first Friday of > every month. ' " i almost think Pd rather starve," said Hon- 1 ora. "But. dear me! starving is a serious busi- I ness, when one comes to consider it face to 1 Tace." i Bailey Mulvey came back, puffing and blow- i Ing like a human whale, fh about two hours. 1 " Mother says she's sent the wrong basket," 1 said she, breathlessly. 1 I thought it very probable, Sally," said Miss ' Haywood. "And mother's compliments," added Sally, 1 'and she can't undertake your things no longer, J Hiss Maywood. 'cause she does a cash business, 1 ind there ain't nothing been paid on your ac- < :ount since last June." < Honora felt herself turning scarlet. l " I am very sorry, Sally," said she. Tell f pour mother I will settle my bill as soon as I pos- i libly can." 1 Sally flounced out of the room, red and indig- 1 nant," like an overcharged thunder-cloud, and 1 poor little Honora, dropping her head on her < lands, burst into tears. j "Pretty girl that?very pretty," said Mr. Brod- J prick, the old bachelor, to his landlady. i "Do you mean"? 1 "I mean the young lady boarder of yours that 1 I see on the stairs now and then,'11 said Mr. j Broderick. "Nice figure big, soft eyes, like a i gazelle. Didn't some one tell me she was a music teacher?" < "That's her profession," said Mrs. Pennypacker. "But there ain't many pupils as wants 1 tuition, and, poor little dear, she has but a hard i time of it." ' " Hump!" grunted Mr. Broderick. "What fools women are not to have a regular profes- 1 sion! If I had a daughter. I'd bring her up a self-supporting institution. i And Mr. Broderick disappeared into his room, i in the midst whereof stood a girl with flapping ; slippers, a portentous shawl and a bonnet which had originally been manufactured for a woman twice her size. " Who are you? " demanded Mr. Broderick. Please, sir, I'm Sally?the washerwoman's Sally!" was the response. "And what do you want here?" said Mr. Broderick. -Please, sir, Tve come to bring your things," said Sally, chattering on her lesson like a parrot. "And, please, sir. her 'umble duty, and she 'opes they'll suit, but it was that damp and muggy Monday and Tuesday, as starch wouldn't stick; and she 'opes you'll excuse all mistakes, as they shall be done" better next time, sir?please, sir." "Who mended 'em?" demanded Mr. Broderick, whose hawk eye bad already caught sight of the dainty needlework upon his garments. * ... ? "Nobody mended 'em,n said 8al!y. "And mother she says it's easy to see as the new gent is a bachelor, on account of the holes in his heels and toes, and strings off his dickeys." "J can tell you who mended 'em," said Mrs. Pennypacker, ''for I see her at It. the pretty dear?Miss Maywood! And says she, "Idont know whose they are, Mrs. Pennypacker; but,' says she, they need mending?and a kind action never comes amiss.' No more it does sir, Lord bless her 1" "Humph!" said Mr. Broderlck; "she'srightno more it does. And she's a regular scientist at the needle, is Miss Maywood. Just look at that patch, Mrs. Pennypacker! 'Euclid's Geometry' couldn't produce a straighter line or truer angles. See the toe of that stocking! It's like a piece of Gobelin tapestry. That's the wav I like to see things done!" And Mr. Broderick never rested until he had been formally introduced to Honora Maywood and had thanked her with equal formality for the good offices she had unwittingly rendered him * * * It was a golden October evening that Honora came down into the kitchen, where Mrs. Penh.^wCT Pie? for her eccentric n?v hnH . *he crusts made of the best Alderney butter instead of lard. oh dear!"said Mrs. Pennypacker; what a thing it is to be an old bachelor. IT' won t be a bachelor much longer," said 1*??? ' laughing and coloring as she laid her shoul(k?rQ Kood landlady's cushioning " What do you mean?" said Mrs. Pennypacker. J "H? has asked me to marry him," said Hon?ra" ? on,y two weeks' acquaintance. He pa>s that a girl who can mend stockings as I do needs no other test. And he says he loves me; and?and? " Well?" " I almost think J love him!" whispered Miss Maywood. And so, the problem of Honora's solitary life was solved, all through the magic influence of ">eedle and Thread." ? A Yivid Picture of the Forest Fires. Fires had been burning in Sanilac, Huron and Tuscola counties, but no one apprehended any danger. Farmers had set fire to slashings to clear the ground for fall wheat, but this hanpens every fall, and the fact that not a drop of water had fallen in from fifty to seventy days was not considered by those who saw the smoke-clouds and replied that there was no danger. There was danger. Behind that pall of smoke was a greater enemy than an earthquake, and it had a tornado at its back and two hundred miles of rorest in the front. From noon until 2 o'clock a strange teiror held the people in its grip: then all of a sudden the heavens took Are, or so it Be.^?ie'| to hundreds. In some localities it came with the sound of thunder. In others it was preceded by a terrible roaring, as if a tidal wave y, ere sweeping over the country. Almost at the 5'1 r^ames appeared In every spot over a district of country thirty miles broad bv one hundred in length. ten miles above Sanilac.one *D? y PeoPle had comfortable homes, 5^5 a ? ""L grain? teams, cowb, pigs, sheep. and no fear of the lire which they knew was burning a mile away. At 2 o'clock the names rushed out of the woods, leaped the fences, ran across the bare fields and swallowed every house but two, and roasted alive a dozen thA?Jt'o J8 hardiy forty rods to the beach of ; ' andJet man>r People had no time to reach the water. Others reached it with clothing on fire and faces and hands blistered. The houses did not burn singly, but one billow of flame seized all at once and reduced them to nothing in ten minutes. l * **7 a;ny and many a spot where the bilJ?*80f Are jumped a clean half-mile out of the forest to clutch house or barn. The Thornton faimly were wiped out with the exception of a M?yV T!??rpton had hitched up his team to drive that thi!y a Pn ce of 8afety' but when he saw !h i!'h y.Wre ?U 8urrounded by the flames he unhitched the horses in despair. Before they ? e unIl,arpessed tliey bolted in different directions, and the old man became so confused that he ran directly toward a big slashing, which a Pei'tect mass of flame, and dropped and died with his head toward it. pn?1I,e,an.ti e the mother and children had taken .ie root house. This was a structure mostly sunk in the ground and the roof well covered with earth. Here they were all right *?n<? fwf' when the father failed to Join them one of the sons went out to see what caused the ?hiayi' ?v was hardly out of the place before the door through which he had passed was in JJar"?9- this emergency he ran to a dry fnnntA t yng ?n *"8 face and keeping his mouth toi the ground he lived through it. thltaIked with a woman who lived neighbor to flpfri ^r01? k *1 who escaped by fleeing to a ?oda frnmQfh ?r?und- This was only a few rods from the root house, and siie said it was fuLy an hour before the screams and shrieks r0m the people inside grew quiet in death. One by one they were suffocated by heat hrr-n6' their bodies presented a most horrible appearance. through the district it seems SSi? . .a 81M"le 80ul escaped. The fire 1 through the green trees the same as the P J. T,rain through fields of corn at the rate of Sip?,? hour and fields of clover were swept as bare as a floor. Dark and gloom v fh Jled with pools of stagnant wafer, and he home for years of wildcats, bears and snakes a flash n &1Vi 8hriveiledand burned almost in ran fister thTn Parched meadows the flames , , a,n a horse could gallop. Horses roasthi^n'fh^e ' *"? were overtaken and left roasting on the ground. It seemed as if every hundred^ ofenUe?f eSCape were cut off- and vet hundreds ot lives were spared. People snent y,to twenty hours in ditches and ponds, or in fields under wet blankets, having their hair a ss&a ssr^ <?>? toK passed on for miles suddenly circled back and made a clean sweep of everything. Unless one rides over the burnt district he cannot behove he eccentricities of a forest firl lTthe S ^vvamp, between Sanilac and Sanduskv it SheVSnW??,^ tbe t? rora ?,iie i'n ten rodk Si T,left Patcl,e8 from ten feet to burnedTanol t' J. n a~am lt struck in and hardly twenty feet wide, leaving It Memri tnon either side. In the timber n .n? green trees harder than i/i jfy one8. It was like a great serpent making thr<*?tLlFifr8* u c<?untry- It would run within of a wheat stack, and then glide awav to lick up a house. It would burn a stack and spare a barn ten feet off. *2* ,felt heat while the fire was yet ay' withered the leaves of trees sernent^" tT,2 mUeS the path of the flery oSSSSh' JnHw ry/arth took Are In hundreds imf ?^!2d b,a/ed UP as if the fire were feast1SLMr^L stoutest log buildings tocateiP:fh? * mmutes- The fire seemed * ifffii every corner at once, and after BiUeso^/iJPTh"0??? wouId be left* Seven CS?n?i at Forester, sailors found the barnsTf1^SSt w^c'oK S^venS .4Cre3uced[ok(l?,ES,Ug' ^ b0ard ^M3k from the lake at Forester a !ad %SS^eTr 'JP ^teen persons in his wagon J?d jaft.ed for the beach. The flre was close ?em 88 ihey started?so close that the Sf !l,e the women and children were !n h!n ??iV Bparks- 11 was seven miles of m<? *hJ h n, with corduroy, ruts and roots, ind the horses needed no whip to urge them Into fun. As the wagon started the tire of a t rolled off. They could not stop for ?,v*,n on a g00d road the wheel would SuUt 1x1 going twenty rods withthat fa?that the horses pushed over i of rough road at a wild run ind the wheel stood firm. A delay of five mini f anV Point of the road would have given teen more victims to the flames which fol lowed on behind. I saw the wagonattbelaki" siis"0,8 t,re va The people who sought the beach had ?tm endure much of the Sat .nd all of thl Sm?kt? ading up to their shoulders they were safe from the flames, but sparks and cinders fell like a snow storm and the smoke vrn* inlrlS.*The birds not caught In the woods we?? out to sea and drowned, and the wave* have washed thousands of them ashore Sooir rels, rabbits and such small aniniais stood in ?l't,*at ftU? hut deer and bear sought the beach and the company of human being. In one era a man leaped from a bluff into the lake S found himself close behind a large bear ? remained in company untier the bank nearly all \h*hefiT seemed as humble as a doJ1,1 *hn rer ln8tanee two of the animals came out t f the forest and stood close to a well from which a farmer was drawing water to dash over bifh~Uth and they were with him for two hours before they deemed it prudent to Jog along. Deer came out and sought the companionship of cattle and horses, and paid no attention to persons rushing past them.?Detroit Free Press. Plymouth Church and President Arthur.? Among the features of Monday in Brooklyn was a meeting at Plymouth church. Mr. Beecher presided, and made a short address, in which he said it would be proper that the voice oft lie Christian church should be given to the President now living. We should say to him that we would uphold him as a Moses if he fights on the right side. If not, we win neither uphold hhn nor his administration. Mr. Beecher then resolution adopted by a rising votethat this great assemblage assures President sympathy and confidence of his new and trying position, and pledging to him their earnest support In every endeavor to cleanse the administration and the government of the United States of the great v&rj&y1 *ttea<uuit aroa m ^ WOMEN m THE CRISIS. A SPLENDID TR1BCTKL From Harper's Bazar. In the position which women have held in relation to the President'* illness, there is mnch that is both remarkable and Interesting? a position that even In the midst of the general anxiety and suspense, where the heart of the whole nation beats as one heart, is gratifying at least to other women, and suggestive of thought. All the more is this felt because it is not a position given by gallantry, and accompanied by chivalrous nothings, but one assumed as of right and a matter of course, and marks an era of fuller appreciation of the peculiar worth of womanliness. The foreign historian who was surprised to find the ancient Germans according to ail women among them the reverence due only to priestesses?a custom, by-the-way, of which the German had all he wanted in those old times, so that he dispenses with anything of the sort today?would perhaps be equally surprised if, in his successor's eyes, he observed the manner in which, of late, the worth of woman as an individual and citizen has been publiclv recognized, her influence felt, her identity acknowledged and deference paid in a crisis than which she has seldom had better opportunity of displaying the application of noble aud heroic qualities to the passing hour. The presence of the wives of the Cabinet ministers in the scenes at and about the White House since the attempted assassination, although very likelv but a trifling matter in itself, yet in the general public acquiescence and understanding of their need by and their value to their husbands in comfort and sympathy and counsel at such a time, the respect accorded to their opinions, the place, in short, given to such women as Mrs. Blaine and Mrs. MacVeagb, if all of no great moment in itself, is nevertheless indicative of the gradual rise of womankind into universal regiyd that has been going on long, but half felt till such moments come as these, which are the touchstone of all true metal. Rut although in quite another fashion from that of the noble self-possession of women before the world, amidst all the courage and coolness shown in these trying hours, there has been no conduct superior to the quiet beauty of Mrs. Edson's magnificent self-forgetfulness and devotion. While men were bickering and scuflling over their rights and remedies, she, an accomplished physician herself, of as good training and standing as the best, calmly laid aside all her professional pride and claim, and expended all her learning and her skill in simply acting the humbler part of the untiring nurse, till, prostrated by sleepless nights and blistering weary days, she at last leaves the patient mending to mend herself. One need not discuss the question as to whethc* any man would have done so much; it is a proud fact that a woman has done so, and one reflects with some gleam of satisfaction on the circumstance that perhaps the long generations of self-abnegation to which women, as a whole, have been trained, have had their fruit at length In this great and good behavior. That there is hardly a woman in the entire land, north or south, who would not be triad, if she had the strength and science, to render the service that Mrs. Edson has done, may not be anything remarkable, nor that so many women should spring with generous hands and thoughttul devices and gifts, to send sick-room appliances and comforts to the sufferer, but that this is so perhaps becomes more interesting as registering a state of feeling so widely spread at home and abroad as to be shared by the ruler of the leading nation of the earth, the Queen of Great Britain so far breaking through all the barriers of etiquette that are thought by the'faithful Briton to be necessary for the upholding of the t hrone itself, as to telegraph in her own name and person messages for the wife who was passing through the fiery ordeal through which she herself had passed, to come out only upon the dust aud ashes of dead happiness. Meanwhile, from the patience of the old mother in her empty house, from the gentle but unblenching heroism and fortitude of the President's wife, a lustre is shed upon all other mothers and wives the world over, which goes far to justify the Universal regard of which we have spoken. It is well known that there may be numberless wives at this very time in the country going through quite as much as Mrs. Garfield does in this relation, waiting on suffering husbands and fighting destruction with their own hands and without the aids she has; but it is proudly felt that, with the eyes of humanity upon her, this sweet woman not only does not fail in her place, but gives It a new glory, that glory which comes from the faithful performance of a terrible duty, the duty of buoying up a dying man above the abysses of death and despair on the strong wings of her own courage, the soul-witbering task of covering with cheering smiles a trembling and breaking heart. AH womanhood feels that Mrs. Garfield has not failed in it in this cruel hour, but has really enlarged and ennobled it, and the heart of every wife in the wide land has gone out to her in her trial, not as to the President's wife " merely, but as to the suffering wife of a husband whose life hangs by a thread, as a woman holding a post they may themselves at any day occupy, and all of whose terrors they have felt beforehand, and in the imagination of which they sympathize and ache and sorrow with her quite as much as they thrill with pride to think of the place she takes in history. The Green Mountain Justice. 44 The snow is deep," the Justice said; " There's mighty mischief overhead." "High talk indeed!" his wife exclaimed; " What, sir! shall Providence be blamed?" The Justice, laughing, said: "Oh, nol I only meant the load of snow Upon the roofs. The barn is weak; I greatly fear the roof will break. So hand me up the spade, my dear, I'll mount the barn, the roof to clear." "No;" s id his wife; "the barn is high; And if ou slip, and fall, and die. How w?-l my living be secured? Stephen, your life is not insured; But tie a rope your waist around. And it will hold you safe and sound." " I will," said he. " Now for the roof. All snugly tied and danger-proofl Excelsior! Excel but no! The rope is not secured below!" Said Rachel, " Climb, the end to throw Across the top, and I will go. And tie the end around my waist." " Well, every woman to her taste; You always would be tightly laced. Rachel, wnen you became my bride, I thought the knot securely tied; But lest the bond should break in twain I'll have it fastened once again." Below the arm-pits tied around. She takes her station on the ground. While on the roof, beyond the ridge. He shovpls clear the lower edge; But, sad mischance! the loosened snow Comes sliding down, to plunge below. And as he tumbles with the slide. Up Rachel goes on t'other side. Just half way down the Justice hung. Just half way up the woman swung. " Good land o' Goshen!" shouted she; 44 Why, do you see it?" answered he. The couple, dangling In the breeze Like turkeys, hung outside to freeze. At their rope's end and wit's end, too. Shout back and forth what best to do. Cried Stephen: " Take it coolly, wife. All have their ups and downs in life." Quoth Rachel: 44 What a pity 'tis To joke at such a time as this. A man, whose wife is being hung. Should know enough to hold his tongue." 41 Now, Rachel, as I look below, I see a tempting heap of snow; Suppose, my dear, I take my knife And cut the rope to save my life." She shouted, " Don't! 'twould be my death; I see some pointed stones beneath. A better way would be to call With all our might for Phebe Hall." "Agreed!" he roared. First he, then she. Gave tongue: " O Phebe, Phebe, Phe Be Halll" in tones both fine and coarse. Enough to make a drover hoarse. Now Phebe, over at the farm Was sitting sewing, snug and warm; But hearing, as she thought, her name. Sprang up, and to the rescue came. Beheld the scene, and thus she thought: 44 If now a kitchen chair were brought. And I could reach the lady's foot, I'd draw her downward by the boot, Then cut the rope and let him go: He cannot miss the pile of snow. He sees her moving toward his wife. Armed with a chair and carving-knife. And ere he is aware, perceives His head ascending to the eaves; And guessing what the two are at. Screamed from beneath the roof, "stop that! You make me fall too far, by halfl" But Phebe answers, with a laugh, 44 Please tell a body by what right You've brought your wife to such a plight?" And then, with well directed blows. She cuts the ropo, and down he goes. The wife untied, they walk around. When lo! no Stephen can be found. They call in vain, run to and fro. They look around, above, below; No trace or token can they see. And deeper grows the mystery. Then Rachel s heart within her sank; But glancing at the snowy bank, She caught a little gleam of hope-? A gentle movement of the rope. They scrape away a little snow; What's this? A hatj Ah! he's below. Then upward heaves the snowy pile, And forth he stalk* in tragic style. Unhurt, and with a ronilsh smile; And Kai-liel scttt, with glad surprise. The niituting found the fallen rise. 1 - ? # The disease known as "pink eye*4 Is pronounced epidemic among working horses In Baltimore. i i r / ^IWPUWI / / . death, at Baltimore. In her seventieth year of Mme. Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, and her burial on Saturday In the I/oudon Park cemetery, at the ride of her husband, will revive public interest In her mother-in-law, that Betsy Patterson of years and years ago, who herself died only two and a hair years since, and who took so memorable and picturesque an interest In the marriage of her son?not in his marriage to Miss Williams, the lady who has died?except resolutely to oppose it, as she did every proposed marriage with an American giri?but in his marriage to the daughter of some royal house, apparently no matter which. if It only had, in addition to rank, a royal fortune. Few declarations of purely sordid and worldly ambition are, to the credit of human nature, anywhere else so unblushingly recorded as in the letters Mme. Patterson Bonaparte wrote from Europe to her father, whom she addressed as '-Dear Sir," respecting the alliance she was then In Boarch of for her son. "Mar- j riage," she said in one of them, "ought never to be entered into for any other purpose than comfort, and there is nbne without consequence i and fortune; without these it is more prudent to live singly.*' Charlotte, the daughter of Joseph Bonaparte, ! was the lady at first much desired and much favored, it seems, by Mine. Bonaparte m?re. who, \ owing to Jerome's impoverished estate, desired him thus to provide for his son, but the project j never succeeded. Charlotte's hand was also sought, it appears, bv Achlile Murat. the son of ; the king of Naples and of Caroline, Napoleon's j sister; but Murat married instead a errand niece of Washington. Charlotte became the wife of Louis Bonaparte's eldest son, who died in 1831, thus leaving Louis Napoleon the heir of the first Napoleon's empire. Mme. Patterson Bonaparte got on dubiously after that with her matrimonial plans. " Poor Bo 1" she wrote, " I hear of every one getting.a lucky chance except him." He had gone to Baltimore alone, leaving her In Florence, and In the winter of 1829 she heard of the engagement to Miss Williams. It dashed her highest hopes. "I had endeavored to instill into him from the hour of his birth the opinion that he was too hltrh In birth and connection ever to marry an American woman. No consideration could have induced me to marry any one then, after having married the brother of an emperor. This marriage must, as you all foresaw and calculated upon," she said In childish anger, "be to me during life a source of deep affliction and burning shame. I have always told you, and him, and every one else, that my consent to his marrying any one in Baltimore, either rich or poor, tkoidd and could never be obtained, and that such a connection would distress and mortify me more than any misfortune which could ever befall me." But there were consolations. "As the woman has money," she says in another letter, "I shall not forbid a marriage which I never would have advised. I hope that he has not been cheated? which I think very likely?in the settlements. They ought to have given him half of her fortune at least, If he outlived her." "I hope that your conscience [this to her father] will not reproach you for your conduct, which lias been even more unnatural than that of my son." With all her wounded pride she had no thought of ; cutting her son off In her will, although she hoped he would have no children. But she still had imperial hopes for him. Four months after the marriage she made a will, leaving him everything. "I should have done exactly the same tiling," she said, "if he had attempted to cut my throat and had failed in the attempt.*' Mme. Bonaparte had a fortune which was far from small, but she lived with exacting economy, imagining herself poor. Young Jerome, while with her in Rome, declared, in a letter to his Grandfather Patterson, that he had had no time to see anything of the ancient city, having been occupied with "looking for apartments for mamma and making tight bargains." When her son got home she wrote him she had been unwell with indigestion, "vomiting in earnest, but not in a gold basin." She declares apiin and again, In letters to her father, that the only things which render life at all supportable to her are "rank and living in Europe. After having been the wife of an Emperor's brother she "would as soon have gone to Botany Bay to look for a husband as to have married any man In Baltimore." Miss Williams' wedding was a great event in Baltimore society. One of the groomsmen was Pierce Butler, the husband of Fanny Kemble. The French consul attended it, and letters of congratulation were received from Madame mfere, Louis, Jerome and other members of the Bonaparte family. These letters were first brought to light and published In this city in 1879 by Mr. Eugene L. Didier. An Ode on the Assassination. A prize offered by a London weekly for the best poem on the attempted assassination of President Garfield was awarded to the author of the following: Veil, now, O Liberty, thy blushing face. At the fell deed that thrills a startled world; While fair Columbia weepe in dire disgrace. And t?ows in sorrow o'er the banner furled. No graceless tyrant falls by vengeance here, 'Neath the wild justice of a secret knife; No red ambition ends its grim career. And expiates its horrors with its life. Not here does rash revenge misguided burn. To free a nation with th' assassin's dart. Or roused despair in angry madness turn. And tear its freedom from a despot's heart. But where blest liberty so widely reins. And peace and plenty mark a smiling land; Here tne mad wretch it fair white record stains And blurs its duties with a " bloody hand." Here the elect of millions, and the pride Of those who own his mild and peaceful ride; Here virtue sinks and yields the crimson tide. Beneath the vild unreason of a fooll But heaven's hand hath stayed the erring ball. And saved a life as virtuous as rare; Yet that such deeds a whispering world appall. Is heaven's mystery and man's despair. The "Boss" Girl. The Janesville, (Wis.) Gazette says: "There was only a moderate degree of interest on the fair ground on Friday afternoon in regard to the premium which Mr. George W. Peck offered to the 'boss' girl of Rock county. There were several candidates, and the friends of each pretty strongly set forth their qualifications in letters to Mr. Vankirk, secretary of the society. It was an exceedingly happy hit which Mr. Peck made when his genius for wholesome fun induced him to offer a sewing machine to the 'boss' girl. There was not a full attendance of the committee, only three being present and three voting by proxy, and a majority of these voted for Miss Maggie Inman, of Bradford. She is not a girl of the period, so to speak, but a good housekeeper, industrious, not particularly handsome, but energetic, and in many ways accomplished. Several years ago she gained quite a reputation for capturing a den of wolves and securing their scalps, and last summer she went to Dakota and entered a quarter section of land. When the vote of the committee was announced, the sewing machine was placed on a dry goods box in front of one of the buildings, and then there was a tremendous rush for the spot to see the "boss" girL Mr. Fethers made a very neat little speech in presenting the sewing machine to the lucky young lady, who stood in the crowd in front of the speaker. When her name became known, and the presentation was complete, Miss Inman mounted the box with as much confidence as an old stager at public speaking, and did herself much credit In thanking the committee for the honor they conferred upon her, and remarked In closing that if the committee learned In after years that the gift had not been worthily bestowed, it was not the first time man was deceived by woman." The Crooked Coarse of Love. From the Charleston Courier. Five years ago a maiden fair, whose home was at a little town near Macon, Ga.. anxiously awaited an important letter from her absent lover. Days passed wearily. The sighing lass haunted the post office, but the postmaster s face always bore that look of exasperating quietude common to those from whom expected things never come. The maiden thought that her heart would break, for she realized at last that her lover was faithless. The scene shifts. It is September, 1881. In Macon dwells the Bame lady, but she Is now a happy wife with two children. She has forgotten the faithless one of , her days of woe. She therefore is surprised when from the town of her youth there comes a ] letter bearing as a superscription to her maiden , name that derived from her husband. An accompanying note from the postmaster explains j thaf in tearing away some of the boards of a letter csto the missive ww found. The envelope is ] postmarked "1876." The lady spanks the baby to keep it quiet while she eagerly devours the contents. "Heavens! It Is from John!" who j proposes In glowing words and begs for a kind reply. The lady's husband also enjoys the letter and out of curiosity communicates with relatives of the former lover. It is learned that he is a happy Chicago packer, with a wile and three sons. . ? prksrnrnt Garfiki.T), soon after he was shot, was told of the extraordinary manifestations of sympathy which were pouring in from all parts of the world. "That can't last,** said he. "The world Is too large for one man to hold Its attention for any length of time." Yet he held it for three months, and when he was borne to his grave Monday the whole world joined In the solemn service. After such a demonstration, no man can again say that the world Is selfish and that there Is no such thing as genuine human sympathy* rT~"" ' " WILL UmG. Surely It Is better that a man should make a will. Even If yon give your property to wife and children about as the law would' glee it, your estate can be settled more easily and pleasantly under a will than by administrator*. And if one thinks upon the subject, special gifts he would like to make will suggest themselves. There is no rule that you must employ a lawyer. Any person who can wrl;e business directions In a way to be understood without dlffculty has all the qualifications needful. If what you wish to do with your property is contrary to law, employing a lawyer will not make the will valid, lf'lt Is lawful, the courts will carry it into effect if the will is intelligible, no matter who drew It. By all means employ a lawyer if the property is large, or if much of It is land, especially land In other states, or if you wish to make complicated arrangements, to endow institutions, provide for great-grand- I children, or couple your gifts with special and unusual condition?. * But where a moderate personal property is to be given outright in a simple way, any good business man is qualified. ' The courts frequently accept a will drawn even very ignorantly. There have been scores of Wilis as irregularly written as the following, . which Mornuiw says) is taken from the Prouate Court records in St. Ixmis: South St. Lorn Feby 9th 1876 the last will & words of Johu OushinK are she says John what are you froinit to doe about thin place he says i leave all to your manlgetuent she says the children may b?* <iuarlintr altout it after- | wards he says they will have notlitnjj to do?about it all is in your hands you may doe as you plasc. his JOHN X CUSHING. mark. Wittncss TIMOTHY J. COLLINS. his PATRICK K BARRETT, mark. her MRS. X MURPHY. mark. The instrument must evince that it Is a will, not a deed or a memorandum. But no particular form of doing this is required; any simple heading from which common sense men can see that a will was intended Is enough. Do not Insert mere suggestions or requests. Write these in a separate letter or memorandum for your family to read; there Is no need that they should go upon the Surrogate's records. The proper < contents of a will are gifts of property and directions appointing an executor or sometimes a guardian. If you desire to say, "My wife shall have the house and furniture so long only as she remains my widow;" or "$10,000 *to my ! son, provided he signs the pledge and keeps it two years." the law allows you to do so, and the | will is the proper place, for these are conditions . upon gifts. There is no use or sense in saying in ones will, "I hope my wife will not marry again;" or, "I entreat my son to reform his habits." vuite lately a lawsuit was carried to the court of appeals because a testator wrote in effect: I give all my property to my wife, only , requesting Iter at the close of her life to make division of it among our children and grandchildren. The children claimed that the widow must keep the bulk of the property for them. But the court said; Not so; that Is only her husbands request; she can comply or not. These requests in wills often cause expensive suits. If you wish to make gifts for benevolent or religious purposes, you probably need to consult a skillful lawyer, unless you are satisfied to give money to some society or church already incorporated. To draw a bequest which contemplates founding a new institution or providing an endowment fur a new trust is difficult. Any one can draw a gift of money outright to a society; the main thing needful to be known is the society's accurate name. Most of the societies publish a printed form. But it is useful to know that several of the states have, by recent laws, restricted these gifts. Thus, by New York laws, " no person having a husband, wife, child or parent" can give more than half of his estate after paying debts "to any benevolent, charitable, literary, scientific, religious or missionary society, association or corporation." And the will containing any such bequest must have been made (with perhaps an exception of bequests to societies having special charters) at least two months before testator's death. The will having been written, it must be subscribed and v^uessed with some care. Two witnesses are enornrh in most of the states, (New York being one;) In a few, three are required. To avoid objections, choose grown persons of good health and character, who can have no interest in the property, either under the will or If It should be set aside. The course sometimes pursued, in which the person who is to make the will visits first one witness and afterward another, is unsafe; the better way is for the testator and witnesses to meet together. Let the witnesses see the testator sign. It may be allowable In law for him to sign when alone and "acknowledge" his signature to them, (this is allowed in New York:) but they are more likely to remember and to testify explicitly if they see the signing. His name should be signed at the very end of the will. If he does not know how to write, he may sign by a mark, as was done in the St. Louis will,copied above, and so may any witness. In most of the states, testator's name may be written for him by another person in his presence and by his express direction; but this mode should be adopted 1 only when special reasons require. There is no need that the witnesses should know what bequests the will contains, but they must be told that the instrument is a will. Asking them to witness "this paper" is not enough. The proper way is for the testator himself to say distinctly: "I declare this paper to be my last will and testament, and request you to witness it as such." Something equivalent to his saying this must take place. After the testator has signed and made this declaration and request, the witnesses must sign their names below his upon the paper, and (to escape a penalty of $50) they should add their residences. It is usual and proper to write beneath testator's signature a brief certificate: that the witnesses Eaw the testator sign the paper, and heard him say It was his will, and have signed their names as witnesses by his request; and for the witnesses to sign underneath this. The rules here given for signing are those which are prescribed by law In New York state; also in Arkansas, Colorado and New Jersey. In other states the directions are even simpler. But a will executed in the manner above described anywhere in the United States (unless, perhaps, Louisiana Is an exception) Is valla.?N. Y. Tunes. Friendship in Letters. From an Kngilwh Magazine. It has been said that letters "are in vain for purposes of intimacy," and though perhaps they may be for building up a friendship, yet some friendships cannot survive without their help. How many things there are that we dare not trust ourselves to say In the actual presence of our friend. Our faces fmd our tones are expressive, and we cannot chose our exact opportunity, nor frame our sentences on the spur of the moment. Many times we say to ourselves, "I will tell him this, or I will ask him to tell me that," and then when the time oomes it is Impossible to catch the moment. A foot-step, the rustle of a leaf, and timidity seizes us. We frame the sentence, we look up at our friend's face and see something that Is a barrier?possibly only a shyness?possibly a passing fear of how much must follow, if the question Is put and answered. Anyhow, it is a barrier, and we end the sentence in the opposite direction to which it was begun. Yet the words unuttered, and the friendship ends as so many do in the mere exchange of every day opinions, flavored to suit the fancied requirements of the person we are talking to. But in letters It Is different. There thequestion can be asked or the sentence framed, ana yet that subtle influence we all possess over each other not produce the wrong effect or cause the thought itself to cease to be for the time. Your friend has time to hear you to the end. The words remain with him with just that sense of uncertainty as to why you uttered them which Is so often the saving clause when what Is said might awake anger or annoyance. No doubt you run the risk of the letter reaching your friend when he is full of other thoughts, but so he may be when in your company, and this is not forced upon you suddenly, as it might easily be, when you had said hair of what you meant to say. After alL risks must be run, and it is often better for the friendship in the end that one side should be able sometimes to frame his speech untrammeled by his friend's presence, than that both sides should hesitate and fail at a critical moment through the undue influence of what, after all, may not be more than passing emotions reflectingthemeselvs npon an expressive countenance. It is even true that some natures can only be reallv Intimate In letters. Natures that are reserved more from habit and instinct than from reason, and who are unduly sensitive to tone or look, will often find personal Intercourse lees helpful to freedom of Intimacy than the comparative solitude that surrounds Intercourse through letters. As Emerson says. "We sit and muse, and are serene and complete, but the moment we meet with anybody each beoomes a fraction." Perfect confidence may exclude all need for letters, and the closer the friendship becomes the more difficult In some ways It is to be Intimate in letters; but so long as Intimacy Is complicated by shyness and reserve, so long will some natures And the uniting element only In letters. A serious potato famine Is Imminent In Town, the dry weather having almost totally destroyed the late crop throughout the entire state. v \ vmi, mw ??? ???m homk matters. To Orr Km or Arm-Try water fhr ante. Set sugar. molMM. cake, Ac.. so thai the> ounot g* the? rxoept by swimming. which they J*rhu!IeL?V0,npt- At^ei<aedhNrai*it wUfc oil? Ind WT,a11 ^ Mt Infests only bo/oSd th^ ^h"' "? hanp?ooltHf utensils ssri.d'^d ?rp??. ?*?.. .nd do m.t 2S si'r su5l ,f^m t.ALETTE ?This cake i* a jrrrat favorite In France. Sin a |mmud of the l>est flour, put it la S? on tho board, make a hole in the ITftJ?! -'?pUt l?to ft * p,nch of *lt *"><> one of * iH,un^ "f t>utt^ *1' ?r * afor Knead the ingredients together, and when they Itegln to mix s|?rtnkle oyer bv degrees half a (rill of water, cont inuity t knead with the palm of the hand, and v.l,w the parte is perfectly smooth make it into a hall and let ft lie for an hour. At the end ofthia tune roll out the paste to thickness of half an inch. Mark the edges as for Scotch short bread put the cake on a baking-sheet. brash ov?r the top with yelk or egg. ami score it in the form of diamonds. Hake in quick oven for half an hour or unt.l the galette Is elastic or. pivsmirc of the nnger.?Irmtumiotcn T> hyrnph.. sl.keri.kskvkss. ?The Mniioal Pr,.<? at, l r,rcw/or contains Mime good suggestion* about th? ?f which are .nmmari/.ed as follows: Wet half a towel, apply it to the back of the neck, pressing It iuiw ar il "n.,n. .?d r?"? tLTr? "r" -?< hi- I.." rapid exhalation. The effect Is prompt and charming, cooling the brain an,! inducer "lrT t,,an anv n*rootlc. Warm Jli ?, ti T??ou?rh most persons prefer # Ik k those who Miller from over-excitement of the brain, whether the result of brain work or pressing anxiety, this simple reuied\ has proved an especial boon. J 1 Habitual Uoi th Breathing.?Many |>eople sleep with the mouth o|>en, and thus make this organ perform a duty which should t>c transacted by the nose. There are msnv objections to this, and I>r. Clinton Wagner, in a recent treatise, clearly points them ont. The air in passing through the channels of the nose, for instance, is raised to the temperature of the body before It reaches the larynx. Thus breathing, no matter how low the temperature ma\ he the sense of cold Is never felt below the larder of the soft palate. But when one breathes through the mouth on a cold day the sensation proceeds as far as the lannx, and an irritating cough may be caused. Then again In nose breathing the air Is moistened by the natural secretions which cover the turbinated lames in a condition of health, and the short. briatU hairs at the openings of the nostrils act' as a Alter to arrest impurities and reduce the likelihood of laryngial. bronchial or pulmonary disease. Infants, athletes, savages and ariimals breathe through the nose?the ordinary civili/od man employs the mouth to an unnecessary and often to a very Injurious extent. The caii^es of mouth breathing are myriad. Complete or partial closure of the passages, |tolypus. congenital bony closure, enlarged tonsils, protruding teeth. adhesion of the soft palate to the posterior wali of the pharynx?all these are sufficient cause* of mouth breathing. The indications are not so subtle as not to be readily recognized, detracted lips. open mouth, receding gums, protruding teeth, shrunken alae. decreased size of the nostrils' orifices, wrinkles at the eves' outer angles and lines extending from tiie alae to the mouth angles, are the predominant sign*. The effects ot mouth breathing u|?on thepharvnx are often most deplorable. The mucous membrane becomes much irritated. A chronic engorgement of the blood vessels may take place, until permanent dilitation of the vessels la produced, and so on until the disease known as clergyman's sore throat Is produced. The writer devotes a part of his space to show ing the bad results of sleeping with the mouth open, and suggests an appropriate remedy. If all snorers were to adopt it one ofthe most disagreeable noises of the night would be silenced, for people who breath through their noses while sleeping never snore. Preparing Plants for tick Winter.?Now that potted plants are altout to be brought Into the house, whether to the greenhouse or to the w indow of the dwelling, it is quite important to know the condition of their roots. Whether pots have been plunged in the soil of the lawn or border, or have been standing in some sheltered place during summer, it is most likely that i the roots are in a crowded, cramped condition, that is quite unfavorable to healthy growth. Before they are taken in for winter, the roots of the plants should be examined. To do this, place the right hand over the top of the i*>t, allowing the stem to pass between the fingers; Invert the plant, and. holding the pot with the left hand, give its edge a sharp tap against a bench, table or other convenient place. The pot will usually come off at the first tap. but should It not after a few trials, pour some water on the earth and let it soak awhile. In rare cases it may be necessarv to run an old knife between the earth and the sides of the pot. j Generally, however, the pot will readilv come off. when the condition of the roots may lie inspected. If the roots have reached the side of the pot. and are in danger of becoming crowded and matted, re-potting is necessarv, using a new pot one sire larger than the old one. The new pot should have the needed amount of soil placed In the bottom, first placing a broken crock over the hole, and then fresh soil should be carefully filled in between the ball of earth and the pot using a thin stick, fiat like a knife blade, to aid in filling It in evenly and comEact.lv. This examination of the roots should e made whenever a plant appears to be in poor condition, as it not only enables one to see If the roots require re-potting, but allow s an-'le worms to be removed. Worms often do much mischief by forming channels through the ball of earth, which allow the water to run out before it can have time to soak into the ball; though sufficient water may be given, the plant may really suffer from dryness, as the water is not able to soak into the earth and reach tiie roots. The worms may usually be seen, and removed from the ball of soil.? AgricuUuraltxL The Man with the Flail. From the Detroit Free Press. It carried the beholder back to thirty years ago, when the thrashing-machine was* heard only at rare Intervals, and the honest farmer spread his golden stalks on the clean bam floor and flailed away with such tempered blows thatnot a kernel was broken. The man who had it sat down on one of the benches in the West Circus park. The rare sight of such an article halted every pedestrian and the p>sn had to keep explaining over and over? "well, I'll have some beans to shell this fall, and I kinder thought 'twould be easier to flail em out. The hardware man told me be had to send to Vermont for It." ( Pretty soon along came a gray-headed alder- j man, and when he saw that flail he looked tea years younger all at once. "I handled that for over ten years," be said. as he picked It op and spit on his hands ^Seems like old times to get hold of this hickory pped <2* on* rtde to the crowd aa exhibition on the grass, and his success was great. At the second blow the flail end hesitated In mid air, wobbled about and Anally came down with a whack on the patriot's head, making him see more stars than a winter s night ever H? droPP*1 the weapon w ith the remark that he was already ten minutes late in ?^Pin?,M,apBolntment' he was rubbing his Hkull as far down the street as be could be seen. The next man to try it was one who irot off a passing ear under the idea that a dog fitht was in progress. uu* u^ui, fi? it i he chuckled as he reached for It I presume I have flailed a thousand Stow" Youb?J8***d n Ji^n i?*!! r?rwit*d- and the man lifted the flail on high and patted the gnus in a vigorous manner. . wintused to be twenty bushels a rnvMf^Uuued? , mad Uiou?h 1 du ?> >t Something happened. Re dropped the flail seised his jaw and danced off as If he had springs riS1"i* a,'ho"?h ? do*L-n voices asked what hit him he refused to tell. By and by a third man oame sailing along. and when he saw the flail he remarked that hia father had used one like it nearly all his life and 8,uart?Bt la New llatnp?S?'t y?u w ,t,,! one ofthe crowd. W liy, of course. If you hoys want to nee how our father* got their wheat to mill I'll gJVou a little exhibition. Here, bub, hold mj He buttoned his coat, moistened his hands, ami Itegan work. The first blow nearly broke a man s knee; the second cracked against a boy's elbows and at the third the flalier grabbed the top of his head and sat down with a ssbdmi look In the comers of his anrath. "Well, t guess I'll bo jogging along." said the owner of the flail as be rose np. "It's all la setting the kink of It. A Mlsrwhe Makes tw ists and wobbles a special study weat git Ma head broke over twice a day, bet a green hand might as well sit dowa under a brick kiln durta' a tornader. Day, gentlemen."