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HENRY A. PARSONS, Jr., Editor and Publisher. NIL DESPERANDUM. Two Dollars per Annum. VOL. XI. HIDGWAY, ELK COUNTY, PA., THURSDAY, JULY 21, 1881. NO. 22. "Who Shall Sing Freedom's Song" " Who shall Bing Freedom's Song ?" Not any man, nor woman fair; They have been thralls to Pain and Care, They have been thralls to Wrong. For song so glad and free No roice that's learned a note of pain Cn ever touch the proud, glad strain Worthy such minstrelsy. " The birds, swift-winged and free ?" Ah 1 no. So many captives sigh In gilded prisons, siug and die Longing for liberty. " Let drums and trumpets Bhout." Alas 1 they have but hireling tones; For marching hosts or tyrants' thrones Their noisy notes ring out. " Who shall sing Freedom's Song ?" Oh 1 Winds of Heaven, that ceaseless blow; Oh 1 mighty, unbound Winds I you know The strain so fresh and strong 1 No one shall silence you; Not tho bluo blade, nor flood, nor fire Shall Btay your course; yon cannot tire, Running tho whole world round. Oh 1 Winds of Heaven 1 Sing out I Sing in the boundless forest trees, Siug in the scented summer breeze, Among tho wild waves shout 1 Sing on the hills and plain 'ou that have never owned control, Siug Freedom's Song from Pole to Pole, Until Earth learn the Btrain. 31. B. Burnet, in the Independent. UNDER THE MIDNIGHT LAMP. I am a doctor, a busy professional man, whose time is money; whenever, therefore, I can save it, I tlo. Many ami many a night have I passed iu the train, counting the hours thus gained as a miner does his gold. Upon thin point, unfortunately, my little wife and I do Dot agree; and it is, I think, the only point upon which we do not. Eight hours in a comfortless railway compartment, rolled up in your plaid like a snake in its blanket, instead of in your comfortable sheets, stretched over a comfortable spring niattress no, she cannot be made to see the propriety of the exchange, nor will she believe that I sleep quite as well, if not dis turbed, in the plaid as in the sheets. Th train was just oil' as I sprang in, and the shock of the start landed me in my seut Being of a slow, placid nature, I was in no hurry to recover from the fell of k ; and wo were fairly off, speeding away as only an English express can speed, bwf'i'e I looked round. I had not the c.i '-inge to niystlf, as I had at iir-t supposed ; a lady occupied the further nil; nnd nt the first glance, spite ( tie dim li(J lit and the fact oi her veil beingdown, 1 raw that her eyes, unnaturally lovpp 'iii1 intense in theii ex pre" si (in, were fixed upon me. I al all timed pvi fi r a carnage to myself, and if a companion I must have, let it be a gentleman, not a lady ; but there was nn help for it ; the lady was there, and moreover, she was looking nt me. " So (she may," I said to myself ; " that shall not prevent my making myself as comfortable as circumstances will al low." Slowly and deliberately, there fore, T removed my hat, substituting for it a clotli cap, which I drew well down over my ears ; then I folded my arms and composed myself to sletp. But in vain ; the eyes of my fellow-passenger haunted me ; 1 saw them as distinctly as if my own were open. Was she watching mo still? Involuntarily 1 locked tip and round, and my look n et hers, full, burning, intense, with far more meaning in it than I could at all fathom. It was getting decidedly un pleasant, and I was growing decidedly uncomfortable ; try as I might I could not keep my eyes closed ; hers were on me and meet t hem I mubt. Iu her at' id ado too, as well as in her look, there was something strange and mysterious. Huddled up in the corner, she seemed to be hohling something close pressed to her beneath the long loose mourniiig cape, bending low over it in n crouching posture. Unco or twice, h.er eyes etill lixed upon mine, I saw her shiver ; but for that slight con vulsive movement, she sat perfectly still and motionless. Was she cold? I offered her my plaid, glad of an opportunity to break the ominous silence. If she would but speak, make some commonplace remark, the spell might be broken. "I am not cold." A commonplace remark enough ; but the spell was broken. The mystery that lay in her eyes lay also in her voice. hat should I try next? I looked at my watch 11:30 ; our train speeded on at a furious rate, no chance of a stoppage for some time to come, and the full, wide-open gaze of my motionless com panion not for oi:e moment removed IVoin my face. It was unpleasant, certainly. If I changed my position, face the window instead of her, she must remove her eyes from my face at last. But there was a sort of fascination about her and her look which I preferred meeting to shirking, knowing that it was on me all the time. There was nothing for it, then, but to give up all hope of sleep, and make the best of my position and companion, whom I now observed more closely. That fihe was a lady there could be but lit' le doubt ; there was that in her dress and appearance that was unmistakable. That she was pretty there could be little doubt either; those great dark, intensely dark, eyes, the thick coila of warm, burnished hair, the small, pale features, seen dimly beneath the veil 1 yes, she was young, pretty, a lady, and in trouble. So far I got and no farther. EUw came she to be traveling alone at that time of night and with that look on her face ? What could it be that she was holding pressed so closely to her and yet so carefully kept out of sight? From the size and uncertain outline I . could have guessed it to be a child ; but, then, there was not the faintest motion, nor could she have held a sleeping infant even long in that position think that something of curiosity must been betrayed in my look, for her own darkened and deepened into a perfect agony of doubt and fear. Ashamed, I withdrew my gaze at once, and drawing out my note-book, was about to make a memorandum, when, with a sudden forward movement, she fell at my feet, arresting my hand by tho agonized grasp of her own, its burning contact sending through rco a painful thrill. "Don't betray met Don't give me up to him ! Oh, don't 1 I am bo frightened I" It was but a whisper, breathed out rather than spoken, yet it shuddered through me like a cry. " I cannot always hide it I I cannot always bear it about with me; it breaks my heai t, and I am so tired." And letting the hand which still held, pressed closely to her, the mysterious burden that had so raised my curiosity, drop heavily to her side, theie lay at her feet and mine a little dead baby, a tiny creature evidently not many weeks old. Then the woman threw up her veil, and, withdrawing her eyes for the first time from mine, clasped her hands be fore her, hei figure thrown slightly back, and looked down upon it. A pretty picture the poor young mother, with her pale child's face and deep mourning dress; the wee baby, gleam ing fo vihite in its death and baby-robo against the heavy crape skirt on which it lay, a pretty picture certainly for a railway carnage, ana lighted by its aim midnight lamp. " Dead I" was my involuntary excla mation. She stretched her clasped hands down toward it with a despairing gesture, speaking with low, wild, rapid utter ance. " It was not his look that killed it, but my love. He hated it my baby, my first-born; lor ail tne love i gave him, he hated it; and that his look might not kill it, I held it in my arms, so close, so close, till it was dead. Oh, my baby, n-y baby." The outstretched hands had reached it now. and raised it from the floor to the seat, folding it around until the in closing arms and tho down-bent face hid it once more out of sight. Was ever luckless passenger more awkwardly placed? the dead child ; the prostrate woman; the scene, a public railway carriage; the hour, midnight. ( am c'f a blunt nature. Mrs. Merton often wolds me for my bluut, straight forward speeches ; but then she has such a pretty way of beating about the liush, which it would be as absurd for me to imitate as it was for the ass to mimic tho tricks of his master's lap-dog. I must go straight to the point as soon as ever I see it. I did so now. " How come you to be traveling alone, and with a dead child? Are you going home?" The question seemed to rouse her once more to a perfect frenzy of fear. She turned to me as before, clinging to my hand with small hot fingers, and the old heartbroken cry: "Don't betray me, don't give mo up fo him ! His look would have killed my baby ; it would kill me if I had to meet it. She is safe, for I killed her, and she is dead ; and he hates me and I have no home no home 1" I was in a perfect maze of doubt. Could tho pretty soft young creature at my feet be indeed a murderess? and could it be her husband of whom she seemed in such abject terror? My blood boiled; I felt ready to defend her against a dozen husbands. But how? It was midnight, now ; we could not be far from Londi n ; the guard might be popping lr's head in at any moment. I jumped to a sudden conclusion. " Were you going to any friend in London ?" " I know nobody in London." " The poor little thing is either mad or her husband is a brute," was the mental exclamation. "Then you must come home with me to my wife; she will see after you." An upward glance of wild, agonized supplication: She won't betray me, or take baby from me?" And once more the wee dead thing was lifted up into the arms that seemed almost too frail to hold it, and hidden away beneath the long mourning cape. I took her home. Mary received her with a look of amazement that made me smile, but that found no expression in words. Whoi , taking her aside, I told her all I knew, she wrung her hands in sheer sympathizing pity. " Murdered her own baby her first born ! Oh, how sad, how dreadful I" And involuntarily she glanced toward the door that hid from us our own lit tle ones, safely cradled and asleep. Then she went back to our strange guest, who sat huddled up in my own big easy-chair, the dead baby s'.ill at her bosom. " I must get her to bed," t aid Mary, with a auick, determined nod; and she really did contrive to do so by soft, ten- - . i t i der, coomg woras, auu soieinu nssur- ances of sateiy ior nerseu ana uaoy, whom she kissed and cried over, and considered aa she might some living object of solicitude, much to the little mother's coruforti " And vou won t betray me; and he won't come and take her from me, or hurt us with his angry look ? Oh, dear, how nice it is to lie down I 1 am so tired, and baby is so cold; but I think I can sleep now a little aLd forget. She was half asleep already; the heavy lids had drooped together, the small, pale face had drooped downward upon the little downy head that 1 iy against her bosom. " Her husband must be sent for," I said, resolutely, when we found our selves once more alone; and I glanced at an envelope I had taken from the stranger's pocket: "Mrs. Tkemayne, Grantle Lodge, Grantley. ' Mary stared at me aghast. Her husband, who hates her, and would have killed her baby 1 Oh, John, you would not be so cruel I She seems so frightened of him, poor thiug ! You may be sure he is some horrid, wicked tyrant. And if she really killed her baby oh, dear, how sad it ia. What ever will become of her I" But, my dear, if she has a husband or friends, we must restore her to them. Yin 1 - a. I.'l.l. tln B Jl .3 I ' It's very strange, very, and sad; but the mvstery must be cleared and the baby buried. Mary still pronounced me cruel and unfeeling beyond anything sho could have conceived. " Of conrne her husband is a mud man who will murder her as soon as he gets her into his hands. You know, John, that husbands are always murder ing their wives." "Middle-aged wives, dear, or elderly, whose lives are heavily insured. I shall telegraph at once." "Then her death will be at your door, sir mind that 1" And too indignant to waste upon me more words, away went Mary to ti-ko a last peep at our own sleeping babes, at the dead baby about which there was so much mystery and the poor young mother whom she had doomed to a violent death. She was still bending over her, and had called me up to the bedside to no tice the extraordinary length of the lashes and the beauty of the face in re pose, when we were startled by a knock at the front door. " It's the husband, I know it is. Oh, John, don't betray her, don't five her up; you wouldn't be so cruel." " Nonsense, child; watch by her till I return. If she awakes say nothing about" " Her husband. As if I should." Our household having long since re tired, long, indeed, before my return, I myself opened the door. The street lamp lighted dimly two figures; one tall, stout and muffled. " Mr. Merton V" I answered in the affirmative. " You have kindly given shelter to a lady?" "Just so." The speaker nodded to his companion, who touched his hat and vanished. The other stranger had now entered the hall, and grasped my hand. " Mr. Tremayne?" I asked.hesitatingly, " Captain Tremayne. How is she ? " "Asleep, under my wife's care ; sleep ing as peacefully as a child." "Thank God! So young at such an hour in such a state " I saw a long shudder run through the tall, powerful frame. And the child V ho added, after a pause, m a norror-stneuen wnisper. She had it with her?" I hardly knew what to answer ; but he had thrown off his heavy ulster and traveling cap, and now stood before me, as handsome, as pleasant and uonest lookinar a young fellow as I ever saw, and my heart warmed to him. He was no assassin, or ruffian, or cowardly bully, whatever Mary might say. The hadow ot a great horror, that lay m the blue, mellow eyes, had been laid there by terror, not crime. "The child is dead," I said, softly. "It died two weeks ago, died sud denly in convulsions in her arms, and the shock turned her brain. She was doing so well, poor little thing ; but afterward she crew delirious, and in her ravings she accused herself and me. I could do nothing ; she would not have mn near her, but beat me off with her hands, as if she could not bear the sight of me. And I was so fond of her and she of mo 1 " Here the man broke down. He walked to the window, then turned and asked, abruptly : "May I go to her?" I thought of Mary and hesitated. "She is sleeping so peacefully just now ; and if she awoko suddenly and saw you " " She shall not see me," he broke in, eagerly. " I will be so quiet ; but I must see her. I nursed her through a long illm ss a year asro, and she would have no one near her but me; and now " Under the heavy militaiy mustaebo I saw his lip quiver ; he paused, then added : " I must go to her !" not in command, but in yearning appeal, both iu voice and eyes. "Will vou wait here a minuto? I will see whether she still sleeps." She still slept, the heavy peaceful sleep of a tired child, Mary keeping a stern watch and guard over Tier. I beckoned her out of the room. " Well !" with fretful impatient eager ness. " You have seen him ? WThat is he like? Is he horrid?" "Judge for yourself; he is in the dining-room. He says he must see her he must come m. "That -he shan't, the cruel wretch or it will be over my prostrate body 1" tragically. " Well, go and tell him so." " I will I" And away, nothing daunt. ed, went Mary. I smiled. She will no more resist the pleading of those hand some blue eyes than did her husband. He will win her over with a look." I was right ; she soon returned, and not alone. "He will be very quiet, and she need not see him. I thought it would be better "all this apologetically. He crossed the room as noiselessly as a woman, stooped over the bed in silence, then sat down beside it. Mary shaded the lamp so that the room was iu twilight, and so we all three sat down to wait. For more than an hour we waited, then Mary stole out. Captain Tremayne looked up as the door opened and closed ; then, with a quick sigh, laid the brown curly head down upon the pillow as close as possible to that of the poor young wife without touching it, and his hand moved up toward hers, where it lay on the coverlet, but with out touching that either, for fear of waking or disturbing her. It was not until the first gray streaks of davlightwere struggling in through the window beside which I eat, and there was a slight stir ; she was awaking at last. "Hugh!" she breathed dreamily at first, then urgently "Hugh 1" "Yes. dear." She turned her iace toward his where it lay beside her. She was only partially awake as yet, her eyes were still closed; but the hand on the coverlet crept up softly toward him, fluttered over his face, rested one moment carelessly ou the brown curls, then, with a long, con tented sigh, her arm stole round his neck. "Husband, kiss me !" "His presence has saved her," was my mental comment ; "there is nothing now to fear ;" and, unnoticed, I left the room. Chilled and cramped with the long sitting after the night's journey, I was not sorry to find the sitting-room bright with lamp and firelight, the kettle sing ing on tho hob, breakfast as comfortably laid out for two as :f the hour had been 0 instead of 6, and Mrs. Merton as neat and fresh and trim as if that mid night tragedy had been all a dream. Let cavilists sneer as they may, there is nothing for a man like a wife, if she be a good one. I myself may have had my doubts on the subject wives are but women after all, and must therefore 'ie trying at time, even the best of them. But I certainly had no doubts what ever as I stretched out my feet to the blaze, and resigned myself cheerfully to being petted and waited on. Well? questioned flirs.JVlerton.when my creature comforts had all b en at tended to, and not before. I told her how matters stood; she was delighted. " And so they are fond of each other, after all? rnd his being unkind to her and her poor little baby was only a de lusion. How dreadful ! Low delight ful, I mean I Poor fellow I so young and handsome and nice 1 I felt so sorry for him." " He must have traveled down in the same train as she did." " Oh, ho; he told me all about it. He had been summoned up to town on busi ness, and left home yesterday morning. In the evening the nurse left her, as she imagined, asleep, to fetch something from the kitchen. "Have a gossip there, you mean." "John, solemnly, you don't like nurses; you know you don't." "My dear, I am a married man, and, moreover, an M. D. A well-balanced mind must hate somebody or some class of bodies, and, as a rule, medical men hate nurses." " Nonsense, John ! Well, Mrs. Tre mayne got away from the nurse, went downstairs, and being traced to the station, where she had taken a ticket to London, Captain Tremayne was tele graphed to, and was stopped as he got into the tram on his way home. Home one must have seen you leave the station." " As be came to look for her here somebody must have brought him; two came to the door." " It will be all right now that he has found her and is fond of her; she will get quite well, and he will only have to comfort her lor the loss of her poor lit- tlo babv." I wipe my pen, blot the MS3. and lise. My story is done, and as it is the first it will probably be tho last of which I shall bo .guilty. Mrs. Merton looks up from the glove she is mending. " i'he story done! Why, all you have written is only the beginning of the end. You could not surely have the heart to break off in that unsatisfactory manner. Not a word about Captain Tremayne's gratitude, or the hamper they sent us at Christmas, or the birth of their little son last year, and the pretty way in which she coaxed you to be godfather, though her uncle, tho duke, was only waiting to be asked; or how she insisted upon our bringing baby and Johnny and Freddy, and how baby-" But I S' ized my hat and gloves. Mary is, as I have said, the best of wives, if just a little trying at times, and her baby the most wonderful of all created babies but I have an appointment at twelve ! Tindey's Jlwgmuie. How to Fish. "What's the matter with my stick ? Let go, vou nasty thing ! Here's another one! Quick!" "Pull him in, can't ye? You've got a bite. Haul up!" cried Mr. Spoopen dyke, trying to untangle himself Iroin his lino and help his wife. "Lift him out of the water ! " " He won't let me," squeaked Mrs. Spoopendvke, bidding both arms out at full length. " Take him off! Scat! Go 'way, you monster ! " "Lift your pole straight up in the air I " shouted Mr. Spoopendyke. "Hoist the dod gased thing right up ! " Mrs. Spoopendyke exerted herself and disclosed an eel, dangling. " It's a rattlesnake I " she yelled. "Don't go near him ! Fire ! fire ! mur der ! police ! police-e-e ! " " Hold your yawp, will ye ?' bawled Mr. Spoopendyke. " Get him over the dock so I can catch him! What yer holding him out there for ! Waiting for him to dry ? Stick , that pole straight up in the air, I tell ye ! Mrs. Spookendyke threw the pole over htr shoulder and flopped the ee into Mi". Spoopendyko's countenance. "Dod gast the measely eel!" he howled, as ho spit it out. " Stop wav ing that slam basted lightning rod like a flag, will ye? Hold it still, I say? Think you re a tree t "Don't touch hint! inrowmm over board ! He'll sting you to death!" gur gled Mrs. Spoopendyke, and, forgetting that the pole still exercised an influence over the eel, she gave u a jerk ana it slipped through Mr. Spoopendyko's fin gers. That gentleman made a spring lor it. and swashed into the water. Heu! blab! baa I wagglo, iau, hie, ga, gaggle!" sputtered Mr. Spoopendyke, as some lightermen fished him out. " Did you catch coia, dear " inquired Mrs. Spoopendyke, with solicitude, as they made their way home. " If I did I landed it," growled Mr. Spoopendyke, blowing'mud like the ex haust of a tug. " Anyway, I caught an eel, didn't I ?" asked Mrs. Spoopendyke, carrying out the woman's idea of comforting a man with the only thing he don't want to hear about. " Oh 1 you caught it I" ripped Mr. Spoopendyke. " You're a fish woman, you are. All you want now is glass sides and some bubbles running through vou to be an aquarium I Another time we both go fishing you stay home ! You hear?" And with this novel mathematical suggestion Mr. Spoopendyke hunted himcelf to bis domicile and took a sweat. Brooklyn hagle. , If the English language was divided into 100 parts sixty would be Saxon, thirty would be Latin (including, of course, the Latin that has come to us through the French), and live parts would be Greek. FOlt THE LADIES. Halr-Dreastne. Both low and high coiffures are worn, with a preference for the former, but the style depends entirely on the wearer. With long faces tne nair is aressea low behind and very broadly, reaching from ear to ear, so that it may be seen from the front. With a broad face and short neck, and also for a very short person, the hair is drawn to the top or crown of the head, and massed there. The stylish low coiffure is made of two small switches twisted together in a sort of coil, having a narrow curve at the top, and being broad below, with a curve reaching close behind each ear ; this gives the effect of many small soft puffs,and is completed by placing a short, very thick curl on each side quite nearthe ear. This is meant for full dress, and looks well with the front hair arranged iu the fluffy English way that is again in fashion ; instead of ringR or curls or waves, the short hair above the forehead is picked apart, and almost each sepa rate hair allowed to stand outward, and this fluffiness is confined, though not flattened, by an invisible net. ihe newest false fronts provided to save a lady's own hair are now prepared in this fluffy style, with some long hair at tached to pass over the back of the head into the back hair in the most nat ural way. Ladies who have a good suit of hair, and do not use switches, tie their back hair about the middle of the back of the head, and make a figure 8 toward each ear. lor morning and plain occasions the hair in twisted into a very flat coil close against the head, and this is placed very low; or else the plait of three tresses is passed back and forth between the ears quite down on the nape of the neck, and the front hair is simply waved in loose, nat. ural-looking waves. The water waves close to the face are abandoned, and ladies who want to wear the hoir parted in the middle put it up on pins at night to make loose waves If perspiration takes out these waves they provide two or three little pieces of natural curly hair ma'ie up on foundation, and thrust these under their own front hair on the forehead; the wearer's own hair may come out of crimps by moisture, but the additional locks will not, if made of hair that waves naturally. For high coiffures two soft, loose-looking coils aro twisted across the top of the head, and the front hair is arranged in the fluffy way already described. This tlufliness does not suit all faces, and is apt to suggest at once Du Manner s caricatures of .English ccsthetes ; and many ladies retain the becoming Mon tague curves and waved bangs, although the most fashionable hair-dressers say there shall be no rings, no curls, no locks upon the forehead. The elaborate coiffures reported from Paris are not yet adopted here, and the most fashion able women wear the simplest styles, appearing at ceremonious entertain ments with merely a small low coil and fluffy front hair, with tho sole ornament a low comb that, has a riviere of dia monds for its heading. Ladies who have lost their front hair conceal bald ness by one of the excellent front pieces that are now made on self-adjustable foundations, held in place by a spring, that can bo put on without hairpins, and art! easily kept in place; these are made up with hair that waves naturally, some of which falls for ward from a cross artiiifj, nnd the remainder goes back on tho head. Those who have so little back hair that, they cannot wear a switch, or are not successful in arranging the hair stylish, buy the self-adiustablo chignon, formed of curls or braids, and also held in place by a spring, or else the multitorm, which serves for both front or back hair, and may bo arranged in tho simplest or most elaborate manner, and which is very light, weighing only three ounces, Ladies with gray hair wear loose waves in front, with twisted coils or low braids behind, or else they retain the Pompa dour roll so becoming above a low, broad, Greek forehead. All dyes are happily out of use for old and young alike, and though young people have a preierence for tawny and reddish gold hair, the still better fashion for being natural pre. vails in hair as in many other things, Bangs for children s hair are not now cut from ear to ear. as they have been, but are merely acrosB the forehead, and any side bangs not yet grown out are brushed up, and put in with the back hair, which is combed straight back, and tied by ribbon that passes around tho head Tying the hair in a bunch behind or on top of the head has been abandoned, as it makes bald spots back of the ears or on top of the head. It is then allowed to hang, flowing straight without crimps If it is inclined to curl, it is put in about five loose soft curls that hang behind. i;urther hints about hair. Hair wears lighter, and is changed by per spiration; hence, in selecting false hair, it should be dark enough to begin witn The hair on the temples and forehead is liuhter than that further back, and to be well-matched requireslighter addi tional hair than that chosen for a switch Brushing U the best stimulant for the hair and. should be done twice a day fifty strokes in the morning, and again in the evening, passing the hand over the hair occasionally between strokes, commended by ladies wuo have re. tained handsome hair bayond middle age. The ends of the hair should be clipped once a month to keep it thic and even. To do this thoroughly, the hair should be taken up in tresses, and a comb drawn through each tress, bo- ginning at the roots, and doubling the hair around the comb, 60 that in passing the short ends wnl be seen, and can bo clipped. To prevent the hair falling out after an illness, six inches should be cut off, and after this for three or four months half an inch should be cut off each month. The cheap hair of which bo much is sold is usually un wholesome stuff ; it is not always real hair, and if genuine, is not taken from the heads of living persons ; finally, it does not prove to be cheap, for it is un clean, easily mats and snarls, and is ho brittle that it does not wear well, or elso so stiff that it is unwieldy; hence it is not cheap at any price. To test the quality of the hair, rub the ends of the switch between the fingers, and if good it will fall away out of the hand en tirely ; but if of inferior quality, it will snarl and mat together. A microscope may also be used to show if the ends ot the hair are turned the wroug way. Dazar. Fashion's Fanelri. Bustles increases in sine. Overdresses are shirred from belt to knee. The pointed shoe is again returniug to favor. Small Roman pearls are braided iu the hair with fine effect. Children's dresses are again ct with low necks and short sleeves. Dresses of tinted mull, over princesse Blips of pale pink, light bluo, or cream white batiste are stylish and becoming, Jersey bodices of ciel blue, rose color or mauve-tinted silk Btockmgs are worn with white surah skirts trimmed with tinted Spanish lace, corresponding with the color of the Jersey. The small, old-fashioned shawls of white china crape embroidered with heavy silk floss in each corner, and edged with white nettnd silk fringe, are again in vogue. Evening dresses for young ladies are cf India muslin or gauze, elaborately trimmed with lace, and garnished with loops and knots of ribbon or clusters of charminr f owers. A charming little baby frock is made of pale biue surah, low-necked nnd trimmed with a shirred plastron edged with Valenciennes lace, which is set up the entire front of the dress. A broad sash edged on the ends with lace is car ried around the waist and knotted loosely at one side. Ombre weddings aie actually in order; that is, the bride wears, oi course, the whitest of roses; and thon, out of six bridemaids, the smallest or the youngest wears pale pink rosebuds, and the tallest or the eldest wears the deepest crimson roses, while the four intermediates shade upward. This novel effect is repeated in flowers of other color and form. ('are of the Ear. People who are inclined to deafness should livo apart from the loud noises railroads, factories, iron mills, etc. Ihey should avoid with great care ex posure to cold and damp, and especially should not wear thin shoes in walking on damp ground or saturated brick pavements. Children ought never to bo struck on the ear with the palm of tho baud, even in sport ; sudden deaf ness results sometimes from boxing the ars, as well as the rupture of the tym panum. uiten the sudden iar or shock with the concussion oi air on the ear drives in the stupes or inner bone, des troying its function and diminishing the sensibility of the nerves. A snow- all thrown with force on the ear, or an aeeidential blow with a ball or bat, may easily cause deafness. As a cold in creases deafness, it should be avoided if possible. Delicate persons should avoid h'dughts on the eai'3, sitting in wet clothes, sudden changes from tho heated atmosphere of crowded rooms to cold winds, and other similar exposures. Tobacco smoke is injurious to sensitive icrves and sometimes induces a peculiar diseased condition of the eustachian tube. Smoking in the open air should e especially avoided by persons whose leaving is impaired, as it injuries the throat, and the opening between the throat and ear. No instruments should be introduced into the ear, as the delicate lining membrane is apt to become irritated. Is Horscshot iug Useless 1 A recent issue of Frmer's Magatlnt contains an article by Sir ueorgo v.. Cox, in which he estimates that the English custom of horseshoeing costs the nation annually as much as $15,000, 000, which might be saved if the horses were allowed to go unshod. He quotes authorities from Xenophon,who niarche his horses unshod from Cunaxa over the Armenia Highlands to the walls of Ticbizond, down to the "freelanciers" of the present day, and contends that it is safer, cheaper and better to let the horses go unshod over the hardest roads, and especially in the slippery streets in London, lie estimates that over twelve million dollars would be saved in the farriers' bills alone ; and he calculates further that tho working life of a horse would be trebled by the change, so that a horse whio'a is now worn out at twelve years would live to twenty-six. The figures seem somewhat startling and have hardly been sufficiently proved to be trustworthy. Meanwhile, it is said that a medical man in Waterbury, Conn has not put shoes on his horses for two years, driving them winter, summer, I-;;: iug and autumn with bare feet with out any trouble. The doctor's theory is that nature has provided for the horse ; that a horse can travel over all kinds of roads ; that the hoof will be moist, and that tho frog coming to the ground keeps the hoof properly spread and free from founder and other dis. eases. To rrevent Diphtheria. To prevent diphtheria and finally ex terminate it, every man, womau and child throughout our land and the world should be brought to obey the laws of life aud health. Parents should regularly feed, properly clothe and duly restrain all children, Deiore they come to the years of understanding and ac countability. This alone would do much. A late prominent physician of Paris estimated that three thousand children had died in that city, during tho thirty years of his practice there, from short sleeves, short pants, and other kindred imprudence in tho dress ing of children. And I am really con vinced that as large a portion is sacri ficed, in towns at least, in this country, from the same cause all for a wicked fashion. Arid from careful observation. in this country and abroad, I urn confi dent that at least as many more are carried off by improper food and uregu larity in taking it, togethefwith poison ous candies, and other unwholesome and indigestible trash, that no child or other person should eat. Dr. FAucin It. Maxson, in the Sanitarian, HOAT TO LIVE IN SUMMER. PomeMndlrious Advire from nn Amliorltr It is ns yet a point of dispute whether cotton ftuffs are tho best wear, many approving of light woolens. For women, nothing is sweeter in summer iuu linen dress ; it is a pity we do not pat ronize linens more for adults ; for children, cottons ; for workingmen, worsteds. The heavy suits oi men aro weighing them down in summer, and clothes of serge are far preferable to those of thick woolen cloth. Very thin silk is a cool wear. The heavily laden skirts of women impede the free action of movement much, and should bo sim plified as much as possible for summer. So also the headgear. Infants, if at all delicate, should not be allowed to go with bare feet ; it often produces diarrhea, and they snouu always wear a flannel band round the stomach. Another important maiier n the changing of night and day linen among the poorer classes. It is toinble to think that a workingmau snouia ne down iu the shirt in which he has per spired all day at his hot work. Let men accustom Ihemselves to good washes every evening before they sit down to their meals, and to changes at nignt, that they may take np a dry shirt whou going to' their hard day's work. Frequent changes of linen is abso lutely necessary anyhow, a night and day change. This change alone would help to stay mortality among children, if accompanied with other healthy measures, such as sponging tho body with a lutlo salt and water. V. here tenements aro very close wet sheets placed against walls will !.d to revivify the air aud absorb bn l vapor in rooms. All children's hair should be cut short; boys' hair may bo cropped, and girls' hair so arranged by nets or plaits that air passes freely round the neck. Light head coverings are essential in summer, lor the head must be kept cool. The most serviceable dress is that which allows air to pass freely around your limbs and stops neither the evaporation of the body nor the circula tion of the relreshmg atmosphere. In summer you must breathe freely and lightly; vou cannot do so with your stomach full of undigested food, your blood full of overheated alcohol, yonr lungs full of vitiated air, your smell disgusted with niiiiseous scents, your system unablo to carry out the natural process of digestion. All the sanitary arrangements in tho world will do no good if wo eat aud drink in such a fashion that we are constantly putting on fuel where it is not needed, and stuff ing up our bodily draught, as we would that of a heating appliance. Our ig norance and our bad hnbits spoil the summer, that delightful season of the year nothing else. Activity, rest and recreation aro weighty matters in influencing our health in summer. We are not so well inclined for activity, and yet nothing will so much assist us as a healthy em ployment of our energies, without over exertion. Pity those who must exert themselves to the utmost in this horrid weather, and feel gratified if you need only moderately use your strength. Activity keeps the system going, the blood in healthy circulation, the digest ive process fiee from costiveness, the skin open for evaporation, and prevents all clogging of the machine. If not forced to work in some way or other be active anyhow; occupy your mind and exercise your limbs. Siagnation will bring about lethargy nnd allow the atmosphere a greater influence upon you. On tho other hand, lull rest is as necessary. Iho exhausted irame wants more recuperation, the brain less strain, tho system more centlo treatment. Things look often darker in hot weather; heat weighs upon the upper portion of the head, communicuting it self to the perceptive powers, and in fluences tho senses. e see pictures before us, and fancy wo have not the power to combat difficulties. It is said that more suicides aro committed in hot than cold weather. A healthy sleep in this hot season is worth a great deal to us; try to court it, and never play with your life and health by willfully neglecting it. And what shall we say of that precious, and, as yet, so little understood phase of life, our recreation? If thero is one thing mere than another to be encou raged in summer, it is reasonable recre ation ; that exercise between body and mind which brings about harmony between both ; that periodical abstain ing from incessant labor which renders us fresher for it ; that intercourse with beautiful Mother Earth which leads us to value natural aspirations. Never pass a day in summsr without some calm half -hour for quiet and enjoy ment ; life has only so many years, and during their space we should live, not vegetate. Tho time will come when sanitary measures and means for enjoy ing a higher phase of life will be thought of more than laying up things that rust. Wo cannot here enter upon the mean ing of recreation in a wider sense ; but it is not recreation to rush out of town aud stop at some place to drink beer and smoke all the time ; it is not recre ation to push on in crowds for excite- meut out of doors ; it is net recreation to overheat yourself ami feel more fatigued the day after than the day belore. For recreation you want leisure, moderate movement, happy thoughts, kindly corapany, some pleasant talk, cheerful music, refreshing food and drink, and, above al), a thankful heart that you are able to enjoy these ; then no one could say that such recreution would be against the highest religious rules of living. Food, drink, dwelling, clothing, activity, rest and recreation, all are modified by the social circum stances under which wo are living Food and Health. M. J. B. Humbrv of New nope, Va., a graduate of the Staunton institute for the blind, was born blind, but has been given sight by a successful operation performed by a Uaiuinore surgeon, i ne Baltimore Gazette says he can now read small type by sight, while formerly he eould read only by passing his fingers over raised letters. His delight upon seeing his aged mother for the tirtt time was naturally very great.