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THE MCVRINGr TIMES, JSTOTDATP. JANUARY 31, 1897
18 3 LL ABOUT THE WOMAN The Social Event of the College Year Occurs This Week at Cornell University.. Copyright, 1S37, by the Bacheller Syndicate. Social life at Cornell University cul minates in the gayeties at the begin ning of February, for this season is to Cornell what commencement week is to many colleges, and all the friends and relatives of students especially juniors throng to Ithaca to participate in the festivities that fill the entire week. Junior week at Cornell, which is like nothing else in the countrrf begins on Monday, February 1. There is no col lege event on Monday night, but the numerous fraternities give receptions to their fair visitors at their club houses and prepare the way for a week of pleasure. These are somewhat infor mal in their character and are held for the purpose " of giving strangers a chance to get acquainted with one an other, and as an opportunity for the fraternity members to show off their club houses though, of course, they wouldn't admit It. Ladies wear pretty dresses, a little gayer than street cos tumes, arraying themselves with par ticular care in order to make a good first impression though, of course, no more would they admit that. A gown that is to be worn by one of the visitors on this first evening at the reception given by the members of the Alpha Tau Omega Chapter at Cornell has a short Eton jacket with applique trimmings of duchess lace around the edge. A girdle and collar of ruby velvet form a pretty contrast with the white lace and the pinkish fawn of the dress material. On Tuesday ? night the "Mosque," Cornell's dramatic club, presents the musical extravaganza, "The Prince and the Showman." This is quite an interesting affair, but not so swell as a concert which occurs later In the week and the most elegant dresses will therefore be reserved. Light evening waists of the kind worn at informal GOWNS TO BE dances, with dainty bonnets in some light hue, will be preferred to full dress A pale yellow and pink stripe with a line of red running through it is the material of a fancy waist to be worn on this occasion. It is slightly low in the neck and edged with a pearl and crystal passamenterie, but the sleeves are long with lace at the wrists, cover ing the hand, and with butterlly puffs at the top. The sophomores get their share of the week's festivities on "Wednesday which is the night of their "cotillion." Light, pretty dancing dresses are worn here, some cut decollete with short sleeves, but others are high in the neck with plenty of lace and ribbon to make them as fancy as possible without be ing at all ceremonious, for a distinction must be made, of course, between func tions that belong more particularly to the juniors and those of other classes during junior week. Some of the new organdies are being made up for this occasion. A lace flounce around the bottom of the skirt is a new departure in the summer dress, which will soon appear in the dancing gowns of the season. Some new evening dresses are being made up with a wide flounce of mousseline de soie around the bottom. The same dress may be made to do duty for several different occasions by judicious arrangement of neck and sleeves. A Brooklyn girl who is invited to spend the week at Ithaca, and who cannot afford many new gowns, has provided herself with a black dress that can be worn at all but one of the events. The skirt Is shimmering black moire poplin, which, by the way, can be worn with another waist for a street dress. The bodice is black silk and mousseline de soie, trimmed with leaf jet. The silk bodice is trimmed down the front with mousseline and jet. Around the low cut corsage Is a pleated frill of mousseline laid over silk to give it body. At the shoulders narrow epau lets of mousseline garnished with Jet stand straight out over the top of the arm. They are kept in place by small silk puffs, which are stiffened with crinoline. A yoke of black mousseline gathered into a stock collar is made so that it can be removed when a more elaborate costume is wanted. The long mousseline sleeves also removable are shaped to the arm, and arc shirred "with a heading on both sides of the arm from wrist to shoulder. On Thursday, February 4, is given the "junior concert" by the united glee, banjo and mandolin clubs. This is the musical festival of the year. Every body goes in full dress and in the best style possible. But the event to which all look for ward with the greatest anticipation is the "Junior Promenade," or the "Junior Prom," as the college men abbreviate the name of their grandest reception and ball of the year. It is given in the armory, w hich is decorated and arrang ed in unique fashion. Around the large hall are placed the boxes, about thirty In number, which are occupied for the most part by the fraternities. Some of these boxes are beautiful in their arrangement being banked with flowers and fitted with tete-a-tetes and divans piled high with Cornell cush ions, where tired dancers may retire for a moment's rest and conversation be tween engagements. Fraternities vie with one another to exhibit the most attractive box, and the friends of each usually confine themselves to the box ' OF FASHION, of that fraternity of whose members they are guests. The gowns which will be worn on this occasion are the very finest that their owners possess. A white satin dress which is being reserved for the Friday night ball has a unique trim ming on the skirt, which is worthy of imitation. It consists of two rows of tulle niching put on in V shape in the front and back of the skirt. In the cen ter of each ruche is a vine of pink rose buds. The same trimming is repeated on the bodice around the neck and shoulders. A variation on the suspender style of decolletage, which will be seen at the ball which we are discussing, has a mousseline skirt and bodice, with vel vet pieces simulating a jacket under each arm. The decolletage is cut heart shaped in front and the sleeves fall several inches below the shoulder point The sleeve puff is almost covered with a wide lace llounce. Around the neck is a high collar of lace, which looks like the top of a high-necked dress, but is cut off in a point in front, leaving the neck and shoulders exposed beneath From each side of the neck is suspend ed a lace" strap, which is fastened tc the top of the bodice in front and black of the arm. A wide girdle of soft silk is wound around the waist in surplice style. Long, transparent sleeves are being "WORN DURING JUNIOR WEEK worn with many of the new evening gowns, but for young girls the soft puff to the elbow is preferred. The trans parent sleeves are of shirred mousse line or chiffon, and they have the ad vantage over the shoulder glove in that they keep their place and do not re quire constant attention during the evening, or careful sewing after they have been put on, just before the dance begins. Dancing and concert costumes are the most important among the dresses that fill the "Saratogas," which have already arrived at the scene of gayety, but they are not the only ones to be provided if a young woman expects to be popular among the students. There are fetching street dresses in which she must appear when she goes out with a young gallant to see the town. She will find it advantageous to take along something in which she can go skating, and a fur wrap that is warm enough for sleigh rides, for these hospitable students are untiring in their efforts to entertain those who please their fancy. With the junior ball, junior week is at an end, and the visitors leave with pleasant memories of long drives in the wintry air along the shores of the lakes and of the happy throngs of pleasant people whom they have met at the va rious features of a joyous week. Only those who have attended some such college festivities can appreciate the pleasure of it all, and none but college boys know so well how to make a week vanish so quickly and yet withal so de lightfully. Those who have never known such joys are wont to doubt their superior ity over ordinary events and are happy in their ignorance, but upon the mem ories of those who have is indelibly stamped a vision of youth and happi ness which will penetrate the after years of life and make all beautiful for having once partaken of the leaven of true college spirit. ANNIE LAURIE WOODS. Sonic Whims of 1'itsliion. One secret of success in dress is to find out the colors which are most be coming and never wander away from these, no matter what the fashion is. The fashionable silks this season have moire effects, and moire with sil ver or gold threads running through it are very effective. Tinselled fabrics of all sorts abound in the shops, but they require very careful blending with oth er materials to make them becoming. Many of the new toques have r, high small crown, but. the real I-arisian toque is cut away so much at the mid dle of the back that there are two sharp points fitting down on the hair at either side, while flowers and white feathers are very conspicuous in the trimming. Sleeves in evening gowns are very short butterfly puffs or a draped puff caught with a bow of satin ribbon or a bunch of flowers, and there is no fash ionable medium between this and the long sleeve, which means that the el bow sleeve has had Its day. Mahogany-colored hair is the latest fad and the transition period between dark brown and this coveted shade of red is very interesting to the keen observer. A HOSPITAL FOR I ?) AFFLICTED DOLLS. Where Broken Hearted Little Mothers Bring Their Broken Headed Children to Be Cured. Copyright, 1897, by tho Bacheller Syndicate There is in Brooklyn, N. Y., an in stitution which is the first of its kind in America. It is a hospital for the maimed and afflicted which never re fuses admission to any, and never fails to cure, even in the most aggravated cases. The matron of this beneficent insti tution is a little Danish woman, Mrs. "Westring, who came to this country with her husband about eight years ago. In her own land she had worked in a doll factory at Copenhagen, and what she did not learn about dolls dur ing her employment there is not worth knowing. . The 'matron of this beneficent rnsti dence in this country than she imme diately set to work to save the lives and limbs of the favorites of her girl hood. A private hospital for dolls was the result of her efforts, and it has con tinued to grow from the very beginning AT CORNELL. ! until now it is a flourishing institution. Since she opened her hospital, two oth ers have started up in New York city, -but to her belongs the distinction of originating the idea and of opening the first in the United States. ilis. Westring is a great favorite with children and many a tearful lit tle face has been transformed Into one of beaming sunshine by her kind as surance to the broken-hearted baby with a broken-headed doll that the dol ly is only sick and can easily be curec if she will only leave her for a day oi two to be doctored at the hospital. In her work of restoring sick dolls to health, Mrs. Westring has an advan tage over the managers of like institu tions for real people in that she has stacks and stacks of ready-made limbs heads, eyes, fingers even tongues and teeth and does not need to wait for them to grow or to heal tip after she has mended them. Cripples in all stages are hung up and set up on shelves all around the room where she works, for, of course, she could not be expected to provide beds for all her patients. Extra limbs and arms, and necklaces of socket joints, or "yoinls" as the little Danish matron calls them, serve as a sort of decoration for her show window, and a naked body without head or either pair of limbs is an uncanny object when it responds with a hollow sound to the pulling of the string that is sup posed to be connected with a doll's vo cal organs. There was a doll there waiting to A LITTLE MOTHER BRINGING HER SICK HOSPITAL. have its "yes" and "no" apparatus put in order. It was one of those that nods its head violently or shakes it vehe mently in answer to questions put to it, and its greatest charm is that it al ways agrees with its mistress who has the key (or rather the string) to her dolly's heart. Another cripple was of the kind that makes faces and cries. There are two faces In her repertoire, a pleasant one with which she says "papa," and one dreadfully screwed up, with which she cries for "mamma." This is really a two faced doll, and not one that can L. . LV work changes on its,single countenance. It wears a cap with a wig fastened to It, and the head simply turns around underneath the cap, exhibiting first one face and then the other. The proprietor of this unique hospital in the generosity of her heart does not confine herself to the afflicted imitation babies of her acquaintance, but extends her tender care to the mechanical cats and dogs and elephants that may chance to lose their members. A dying doll with' Its face painted a ghastly white lay in a bed, where its eyes opened and closed with a death like expression. This doll worked by electricity, and was really only for show, as no mother would permit her little girl to own such a grewsome pet. "Most dolls come from Yermany," said the Danibh matron. "These here are made of wood, but the fine French dolls are made of papier macho, which Is much better, because it does not bieak so easy nice, but they , B!sque dolls are very soon bieak." She then pioduced the parts of a doll i ' which she said were made of a compo sition which will !stahd all kinds of knocking about, but cannot be broken. The arms and legs, iiad come off be cause the elastic that held them irt place was of poor quality or had not been properly secured. The elastic which she uses is'about the thickness of a. lead pencil and is imported from Germany. This Is put in double and when she has fastened the members of a doll In placQjdxe j? jjiljingto warrant It for ten years. German dolls are fast ened together wUJi'qjie piece of elastic which is attached to every member, but in French dolls, earn member is se cured independently of the other to a peg placed in the center of the inside of the body. j Dolly's eyes come from Germany, too, and aie done up in cotton in boxes of a dozen pairs or so. These eyes are as complete as any human eyes except that they are hollow. They are real eyeballs with pupils and iris and the rest, and with even a place at the back like the stump of the severed optic nerve. A leg or arm comes in two parts be sides the hollow balls that serve as joint at knee, hip, and elbow, and In the old country where nearly all the dolls are made, the workmen are kept making a single part, perhaps for a life time. For instance, one girl makes fore-arms, another makes joints, and another works on the head, while still others fashion the trunk. Bone teeth for dolls are "an Invention of Mrs. Westring's, and it is not at all uncommon to hear the request on the part of some little mother to have a set of false teeth put In her dolly's mouth. A little red tonsue also con tributes to the realism so delightful to small girls. $ "Do you have many patients at this time of year?" I asked, not knowing the season for doll epidemics. "Oh, yes," replied. the matron, "I have lots of sick babies yust after Christ mas. They are the new dollies that were sold cheap for Christmas presents and were not well fastened together. But I haf more yust before Christmas. The mammas want new heads or new wigs on the old dolls so dey don't haf to buy new ones. I also haf a great many yust before the people go way for the summer. I mend the same doll in different places many times, and DOLLIE TO THE sometimes when I get through there is none of the old doll left." It Is always cheaper to buy a missing piece than the whole doll. A head, can be put on for prices ranging from tw.enty-five cents up to several dollars, according to the size of the doll. A twenty-six dollar dolf has a $3.00 head, but a ten-Inch doll can be topped for a dollar or less. Mrs. Westring is often called upon to put a new head on a black doll. In such cases she usually colors the skin of face and neck to match the body and then dyes a wig. THE LAST OF BY CIIAULES Copyright, 1S07, by the Bacheller Syndicate. There having been a great deal of gossip in the town of Wentworth and the Country about in regard to my strange And of money and the amount thereof, and the newspapers having said much that was true and untrue in the same connection, I 'have determined to write a p'ain story and set forth the facts In the case. Iu the first place, I must tell you that my name is Hilton George Hilton and ithat I ami the last of my race. There is not in all this world another Iliiton man, woman or child who can claim to he descended from Sir Hugli Iliiton of the Cedars. You 'have many times found the name of that gallant old knight on the pages of. England's history, and never has a line been re corded to 'Ills shame. lie was a 'brave warrior and a good citizen, and peace to his ashes. The Ililtons were not a long lived race, and after the year 17S0 there were so many biehelors and spin sters among them that dust began to accumulate on the name. My grand father was an only child, my father the same, and when I was born into the world rliere were but three Ililtons left. Death soon removed my parents, and I was then the last of my race. I should be proud to speak of my father and grandfather as history lias spoken of those who came before them, but candor compels me to say Mint the quality of the blood had degenerated- wiien it readied them. I have been told that tins might hive been expected, as Hie niltons were a race of high livers and a roystering lot, but I feel it a smirch on the family escutcheon just the Mine. To he honest, then, my grandfather was a tyrant over bis ten ants, disJked by the public and so miserly in his habits that it was said lie did not live out his allotted years for the want of proper food. When 1 came to the age of understanding they told me pretty much the same story about my father, much to my shame and sorrow. It was necessary, how over, to tell some sort of story. At the age of twelve I was an orphan and al most penniless. There was ihe big stone house and nhe twenty acres of land which had been lied by the Ililtons for throe hundred years, but there was no money. People figured up the in come and outgo of my father and grandfather and said I ought to lie iu possession of at least 10,000. but not ." in good and lawful money was found in the hotifce when my father died. The will of my father, by which I was left all, was brief aud concise, but contained a curious sentence. It was to the effect that on my twenty-fist birthday I should take possession of the house, aud, standing at the foot of the cellar stairs, with my face to the east, sliou d "count one and three and take two." My solicitor and guardian was an old man, and not a very keen one. He thought this clause might have re ference to money, and he visited rhe cellar to see what he could make out. If he had any hopes lie was d .appoint ed. The matter might have gone fur ther, but it was a time of great public excitement, the old man had troubles on hand, and so in one way and another the will was laid away and I was turn ed out into the word to got my living as I might. Nobody wanted to live in jbp big house, which was gloomy and ill arranged, and the little income was only b'g enough to pay the taxes. If it could have been legally arranged for me to selk The grounds it was not done, and after living with a farmer for a few months I cut loose and started out to see the world, I had been fairly educated in the lower branehes, and this was a help to me in knocking about. For two years I 'managed to live one way and another, and then went to sea from the port of Liverpool. Returning after six montlis, 1 blacked boots and sold newspapers in the streets of Lon don, got temporary employment at vari ous inns, turned fishmonger aud fakir, and at the age of seventeen the 'nst of the Ililtons was a bad lor. I had many vices and few virtues. A year's corse on a man-of-war did not help my moral, diameter an3', and it is with shame I admit that all my associations were evil. I d'd have pride enough, as tlie last of my race, to change my name, and to conceal the fact that I was de scended from men who had made his tory for England, but I "was perfectly willing to drift along with Hie world and take the wicked side of it. Soon after any eighteenth birthday 1 attended the races in company with sercal boon companions. That night we played cards aud drank at a room in a public house aid a stranger was assaulted and robbed. It was proved on the trial tint I was drunk and asleep at the time, but as I -was one of the party who committed the offence I was held as an accessory and given a sen tence of five years in prison. I have been frank to admit my failures, and it is only just that you should believe me when I say that my sentence was an outrage. I knew nothing whatever of the p'on to rob, did not share in the spo'ls and was exonerated by all my companions. I 'had been a cheat and sharper, but bad never resorted to rob bery nor other serious crime. Guilty I or not guilty, I went to prison just the same, and I am read' to admit to-day that it was the best thing that could iiave happened to nio. I had to settle .lown to work and a steady routine, and by auu by my conscience began to waken and my sense of shame to re turn. When I had had time to come to mj-self, as it were. I made a solemu resolution to diange my course of life, md so exemplary was my behavior tint after about tlnee yeais I received a fu 1 pardon and one day was set at liberty. Until t!lils day came I bad scarcely thought of the old stone house down at Wentworth. I had an undefined plan that after reaching my majority I would sell the place for what it would bring, but I had never been back since leaving it, nor had I beard a word from the soliritor or met a resident of the town. Under the Eng'iisb law, as it was then, ttie wan! en gave each dis charged prisoner money enough to pay his fare 100 miles. Wentworth was just 100 miles away, and a stage was to start in that direction within an hour after my release. These ami other things influenced me to head that way. After getting fairly started on the journey I had a longing to see the old place again, and thus became quite sat isfied with myself. Having left the town a mere lad, nine years before, I had no fear that any one would know me, and, as a matter of fact, no one did. Within an hour of mj arrival, however, some of the town's people who were gathered in the taproom be gan discussing the Hiltons, and I -was astonished and aggrieved that reports of me had been received from time to time and-that it was known I had been sent to prison for felony. They did not know I had been pardoned out, nor that I had resolved to lead a better life, and they spoke so much to ray detriment that I was cut to the quick.. I learned from their conversation that the old house had been empty for rjjars, and they predicted that the last THE HILTONS. B. LEWIS, of the niltons would hardly care to ever show his face again in Went worth to find a buyer. Next day after my arrival I strolled about the town and finally entered my grounds and walked about, and then entered the old house. Windows were broken, doors gone and the roof jjeak Ing in a dozen places. The place was simply an old ruin. As I wandered through the rooms the thought of that strange clause in the will flashed across my mind. It bad been dismiss ed from my mind when I left Went worth, nor had it come up again in all the years I had roamed about. I could not recall the wording of it now. I on ly remembered that I was to stand at DID nE SAY the foot of the cellar stairs and count something, and that one, two and three were somehow mixed together. I started to descend to the cellar, but the stairs ihad rotted away. As I moved about I also heard some animals stir ring down there, and fearing 1 might get into trouble I left the house and the grounds. When I made inquiries in the town I found that the old soli citor had been dead for years, and that his papers and accounts had been transferred to a firm living in a town ten miles away. I decided to go and see them and claim my own, but there was no hurry about it. All that after noon and evening I kept trying to re member the ce'lar whether it was one open space or divided. This thing preying on my mind naturally brought about the dream which followed. I dreamed (that the cellar was one large room, and that the floor above was supported by three brick pillars. The words in the will also stood out clear ly "count one and three and take two." I woke while yet dreaming, and leaping out of bed wrote down the words. When morning came I decid ed on an iuvesticatiou of the cellar, and about mid-afternoon revisited the house. I gained entrance to the cellar by an outside passage and after driv ing out a dog who had taken up his quarters there I located the spot where the foot of the stairs had been. The cellar was one large room, and the floor was supported by three pillars, just as I had dreamed. It was a dis tance of about forty feet across the cel lar, and pillar No. 2 was exactly in the centre opposite the stairs. "Count one and three and take two." Two was the centre pillar, of course, but why take it? It looked exactly like the other pillars. It was there to support the centre beam on the floor, as any one could see, aud where was the mys- stery in that ? I looked it over with great care, but could see nothing dif ferent from the others. The architect had planned it, and the same hand had built the three and used bricks from the same lot. I was provoked with my father for writing the words, and with myself for attaching any signifi cance to them, and after awhile climb ed out of the cellar and went walking in the town. I tried to dismiss the whole affairfrommy mind, but it clung to me, and an bour after dinner I was back in the cellar. If there was any mystery about the pillar I could solve it only by attacking the bricks. After hesitating for a long time I looked about, and chanced upon a por tion of an iron bar, and, removing my coat, I began work. After n few bricks had been loosened the rest was easy enough. The pillar was seven feet high and two feet square and was perfectly solid until I was within two feet of tha bottom. Then I found a hollow, and this hollow was covered by a sheet of tin. When I reached this point I was so excited that I had to stop work and sit down for a while, and it was well that things happened thus. While I was Testing I heard people moving about outside, and eaugbi enough of their conversation to know that I nad been seen prowling around aud -had aroused suspicion. After the people had departed I pulled away the cover, and there was the treasure which had been left to the last of the Hiltons. The receptacle was full of gold every pound of it in yel low metal. My grandfather bad re sorted to usury and half-starved him self to leave it to my father, and my father had pinched and saved for a life time to leave it to me. I took the mon ey, piece by piece, and counted it into my hat, and when the hat was full I earned it out among the shrubbery and emptied its contents on the ground. There was 12.000 there 12, 000 and something over, and some of the pieces must have been saved up for over a hundred years. That evening I hired a cart for a couple of days, and, having possessed myself of a strong leather bag, I transferred rhe gold from the garden to the cart and drove to Shropshire and put it in a safe place. Later on I hunted up the soli citors wlio had the will, and in due time and without returning to Went worth I came into my own and dis posed of the bouse and lands for a small sum. Some one who visited the house discovered the work I bad done there, and the amount of money I took away has been variously estimated at from 1,000 to 30,000. It has been as seried that I also secured many arti cles of jewelry, but I have given you the true particulars. At first they were 'mystified as to my Identity. When they came to know that the stranger was the last of the Hiltons they had It that I escaped from prison and was a more desperate wretch than ever. That you may do me justice I will say that for years I have lived an honest, upright life, mingling with the best of my fellow-men on equal terms, and though, the race will die with me, the last of the Hiltons will die with many friends to mourn his loss. yi Vj? ' llP HAPPENED TO HIS BROTHER, "No, I never met up with any ad venture worth relating" said the griz zled old bunter, as we badgered him for a story while the train had to wal at a station in Wyoming. "My brothec John used to meet with some party; clus shaves, though." Then we asked bim to relate some thing about his brother Join, and, pointing away to the mountain peakst he said: "My brother John was up fhar' on a hunt last winter and had a hard time of It. The snow come afore he expect ed it, and the fust thing he knowed. it was fourteen feet deep." FOURTEEN V Did he say fourteen' asked a sar castic traveller. "Noap. He didn't say nuthin abou( it, but I found Lis mark on a tree af terwarJ. He was four days wifhouf purvishuns." "And be didn't starve to death?" "No, sah. He had on a pair o lonj legged butes, and he ate 'em up, Thar' was jest 'nuff of 'em to last fouj dajs arter his purvishuns run out." "Then after eating up his boots the snow went off?" queried the passen ger. "No. The snow didn't go off fun three months. If the snow Sad gone off John would hev come down the us ual way. About the time be had eat up the List scrap of leather a big griz zly b'ar slid down on Mm off a ledge." "Oh I see! Providence sends a griz zly bear in the nick of time, and your brother kills it and is saved. How long did the meat of' that grizzly last?" "He never got a pinch o that meat," replied the old man. "It rayther sur prised him when the b'ar showed up, but he managed to put three bullets into him." "And then the bear ran away." "No, sah. No b'ar could run in thai snow." "Then your brother climbed a tree and escaped him?' "No, sah. I reckon the b'ar was too clus at hand fur chat. No, my brother didn't git up no tree." "What did he do, then?" "He fit as long as he could." "And then the bear died at his feet, I suppose?" "No, sah. The b'ar was found dead half a mile way, wbar' he had been carried by a slide." "And bow did your brother get away r "He didn't git away, sah." "But you've been iteiling wiat c said to you," persisted the man. "No, I ihevn't, sah. You see, when wj found the b'ar we found John Inside of him. and we had to sorter guess thi rest, though I think we hit it purtj clus." "And you mean to say your brothel was eaten alive?" "Sartinly." "But but" "If ye bev any remedy to restore him to life, stranger, I'm willin' ye should try it, but I sha'n't believe in it till I see it work. Yes, eaten alive, and ha was inside the b'ar. Foor John! Poor John! I'm jest on my way up tha mountin' now to see If I kin find any signs that he had time to sins a bymu afore the b'ar took him in." Ballade of the Flying Steel. Ice as gray as a pane of glass. Hills above with the snows bedighr. Forms below them rhat swiftly pass Smooth as a swnllow's curving flight. The trees stand stripped by the sea son's blight, And streams are bound in a wintry seal; While echoing out from left to right. Comes the hollow ring of the flying steel. Sun o'erhead, like a disc of brass. Shining slow on the snow-drift's height. Down below is the frozen grass Shut from the source of life and light. A wan cloud drifts, like a vagranc sprite, In airs that the chill north-winds congeal; While still from the ice. in sounding might. Comes the hollow ring of the flying steel. Here they scatter, and there thej mass Figures slipping away from sight Far in the distance, lad and lass, Fading and disappearing quite. The rushes waver, as black as night. As over tiheir tops the breezes reel: While floating back, in the wind's des pite, Comes the hollow ring of the flying steel. ENVOI. Prince, through the winter's keen de light The skater deaves, and from spurn ing heel, Full armed with blades as a falchion bright, Comes the hollow ring of the flying steel. Ernest McGaffey, in Life. A liise in Life. "The Woozletons seem to be stepping high lately." "Yes, they've bought a sideboard that isn't a folding bed." Chicago Record. The Sitting Lady (frankly) 'T go into socieSy 'to find a husband. Why do you?" The Stand'ng Lady "To get away from a husband." Chicago Tribune.