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VOL. XXKIII. PITTSBORO, CHATHAM COUNTY, N. C, THURSDAY, AUGUST 24, NO. 2.
B3 I 93 MBA. mm mm m,
lAJKJp. HAMMOND,
THE MISER..
By Prof. Wm. Henry Peck,
Author of the "TSe Stone-Cutter
of Lisbon." Etc.
El I
r a rati
CHAPTER XVI.
Continued.
"Don't strike me, Luke Hammond
iflon't! I'm old enough to be your
mother, you know a poor, -weak, half
mad old wretch my children did you
know I bad two? of course not who
knows anything about me nobody, no-
tbody but the dead but my children
Sraade me what I am, Luke Ham
mond " ,
"Curse your children!" roared he, un
able to jerk his arm free without
dragging the old wretch down, for
Fan had grown feeble and tottering
ever since she saw the falling of James
Greene.
'"Good curse them for. me, Luke
Hammond," laughed Fan, now grasp
ing his arm with both hands. "Curse
them how often I have cursed them
son and daughter cursed them on land
and sea, in field and town cursed
them everywhere and always! If it
wa'n't for the pleasure it gives me to
curse them, I'd cut my withered old
jthroat I would. But about my dream
I saw him he came in a cloud
jblack, grand cloud the cloud grew
small and then he said something I
didn't hear it, but it meant that I was
near my death that I had been very
wicked, but that I would have been
pardoned if I hadn't had a hand in
murder you made me do it. He told
me I was going to die, but that I
should see my children and know them
first. Now here's what I'm going to
do I won't go out of this house I
might meet my children I don't want
to die I won't. I'll stay in this house
and they'll never see me, and ha! ha!
I'll live forever live forever!"
With a howl of rage and terror Ham
mond darted away, and pale, panting,
breathless, sank into his library chair,
exclaiming, in a voice of horror:
"There is no doubt of it! That old
!hag is my mother!"
Then placing the brandy decanter
to his parched and quivering lips, he
irank long and greedily.
"Ah!" he sighed, as he drew a long
breath, "this business over, and once
more rich, I will fly where no one of
my kindred shall ever meet me no,
not even Nancy Harker. I must see
her."
He pulled the bell-cord and shouted
through the tube.
"Arrs TTiirlrpv' Crimp? TmTinrr.fnr!
How is Catharine?" "
The answer came after a pause:
"Bad! delirious."
'"Delirious!" said-Hammond, and he
shouted back: "Stay! I will come to
you."
He drank again from the decanter,
and departed; saying:
"Delirious! I expected it. I will let
Henry Elgin see her thus. The sight
may move his heart to my wishes."
CHAPTER XVII.
THE PHANTOM-NAJIE!
Hammond hurried to the white and
gold chamber.
He found Kate Elgin pacing the floor
With rapid steps, and Nancy Harker
watchincr her as a cat watches a
mouse.
!. Hammond saw bv the wildness of
Kate's countenance, her feverish look
and unnatural agitation that she was
not Conscious of her actions.
"Are you ill, Miss Elgin?" he asked,
Kate glanced toward him as, he
spoke, and the sound of his voice
seemed to curdle her blood, for she
grew pale and shivered as if with cold.
"I thought I heard his voice," said
Kate.
"Whose voice, Miss Elgin?"
Luke Hammond's voice,' said Kate,
With a vacant look and leaning against
the wall.
"I am Luke Hammond," said he.
"You! Ah, no! Luke Hammond is
not a man, he is a devil. Who are you!
Have you seen James Greene? I am
.to meet him at seven is it seven?"
( Poor Kate continued to talk in wild
'delirium, sometimes walking, some
times leaning against the wall.
I "Why do you not persuade her to lie
down? Whv did vou let her rise?" de
manded Luke.
1 "If I go near her," said Nancy "she
fccreams and seems about to fall into
Convulsions. She was sleeping nicely
ip. time back, when some one rushed
through the hall you, I think making
a great to-do. and she awoke as you
see out of her head. She got right
up, and will not lie down. It is noth
ing serious. You needn't look so
grave. It won't last very long, and
Svill end in a fit of tears."
I "You are sure of that?" asked Ham
mond, and after a few moments of
keen observation of Kate's appearance
he added: "You are right. Nancy. A
good flood of tears will relieve her.
Where's Fan?'7
i ' He turned around and started as -he
sew the old creature squatted in the
doorway, eyeing him and his sister
With a sharper gaze than he had ever
seen in those twisted orbs before.
"I am here, Luke Hammond," said
Fan, not moving, but rolling her eyes
from him to Nancy, and from Nancy
to him unceasingly, "J am thinking-!
Sinking"
4'a. plague take your ttwugfctii" i&fg
VJ I
Copyright 1896,
by BOBKBT BONNKB'3 SOKS.
(4 rights reserved.) ,
Hammond. "Get up and go tell Dan
iel to roll Henry Elgin's bed hither.
Go,"tld simpleton."
Yes, I will," said Fan, crawling up
the side of the door until on her feet.
You don't know how weak and shaky
a am now. Yesterday why this morn
ing. I lifted the big tub of water easier
than I can a cupful noW. But I was
thinking, you know what a pair of gay
fiends you two be you and Mrs. Har
ker gay fiends! You ought to be kin
close kin you look alike about the
eyes and mouth hard, cruel "
Silence?" said Luke, fiercely. "Go
do as I ordered."
Yes, yes more devil'ry," said Fan,
turning away, and muttering as she
passed through the ante-chamber into
the hall, "Two gay devils! Devil burn
me if you ainVt the gayest pair I ever
knew but one pair my boy and girl
they were a pair gay 'fiends gay!"
'Nancy," said Luke, looking at his
sister, half stupefied, "what are you
thinking about?"
"About Fan," said Nancy.
said Luke. "We are uneasy enough
now in suspecting we would be mis
erable in knowing."
'Luke," said Nancy, sternly, "you do
know it, or believe it. She let slip that
there were twelve letters in the name
of some one whom she loved. It may
be only a coincidence, but taken with
other things, it looks like fatality.
See."
Nancy Harker stooped and wrote
with red chalk upon the white matting
this name: .
NICHOLAS DUNN. " :"
'That is a name, Luke, that you and
I have not spoken aloud for years
the name of our father. Count the let
ters."
"Twelve!" said Hammond, uneasily.
But it is nothing more than a coinci
dence. Let the matter alone, Nancy."
'Suppose she, old an, is as we
think," said Nancy."
'But she is not, confound your curi
osity," said Hammond. "She is not
she shall not be."
'Luke,", said Nancy, speaking very
low, although poor Kate seemed far
from understanding or listening.
Luke, if It should be true that Fan
was the wife of the man whose name
I have written there, and whose chil
dren we are, and she should discover
the truth!" - v
Hammond turned deadly pale.
"Luke," continued Nancy, "she. would
avenge the death of her husband as
sure as you are standing trembling
there!"
'Trembling! Do I tremble? So do
you," said Hammond.
'I do I know it," said Nancy. : "I
tremble for two reasons. First, be
cause in Fan, as we call her, we may
find an enemy no less ferociously vin
dictive than Harriet Foss. Besides,
Fan is half crazy, and her vengeance,
hate or whatever feeling -may urge
her to our destruction if she finds out
who we are, and if she is the person
we think she is, urge her to our de
struction with means which would be
all the more dangerous to us because
she will not pause to sacrifice her own
life in her fury." "
"She may have a feeling the feeling
of a mother, Nancy, for her offspring."
"Our mother," said Nncy, "never
loved us. She was devoted to her hus
band alone you know it. Her soul
was with him. Was it our desertion
that made our mother a lunatic? No,
our desertion killed our iatner, and
that crazed our mother."
"Well, let's hear the other reason for
your trembling."
"If Fan is our mother," said Nancy,
she is a deadly enemy. How do we
deal with deadly enemies?"
"But if It comes to a question of her
life or our death, Nancy, what then?"
"It must not come to that," said
Nancy. "That would be horrible. We
must get rid of her send her away
not harm her."
"Too late," said Hammond, clenching
his fists; "too late, Nancy."
"Why too late, Luke? Is it ever too
late to prevent a crime, which we fear
we may be forced to perpetrate for
our own preservation?"
"Yes, it is too late," continued Luke.
Fan is not the same woman she was.
I intended that she should perish with
James Greene, but her cunning baffled
me. Since then she thinks she must
tell of the scene to all who know noth
ing of it. That desire Is Increasing in
her heart. If we send her away she
might tell of the affairs of Luke Ham
mond, and then ruin to us! Besides,
we should need another in her place,
and already we have too many accom
plices. Let that name that you have
written remain upon the floor. Watch
Fan when she reads it." -
"She will not understand it," said
Nancy; "she has often told me she has
forgotten how to write and read
"She may have been lying." ;
"If so," said Nancy "seeing that
name there. shd will connect it with
our presence here, suspect and leap to
a conclusion at once.
"You talk as if she was in. the full
swing and sway of nsr reason. You
forget see is naif crassy, and taeuga
('tis fti4 ry fftitfe ? extremely
cunning, they cannot reason, or, It
they do, not long in a single, connected
train of argument. Besides, If she
asks of it we are not to see it let her
think it division of her own."
"And if she proves to be our mother?"
"Proof Is Impossible. We can only
conclude, imagine, suppose, unless she
avows that she is Ellen Elizabeth, once
the wife of "
He pointed at the name written on
the white matting In blood red lines.
"And then, Luke?" . . -
"And then and then well, we will
talk about that afterwards," said Luke,
placing a piece of gold in the centre of
the great D of the name.
"Why put that money there?"
That she may find the name and
not be told to look for it," said Ham
mond, with a grim smile of cunning.
"Old Fan can smell gold as a rat
smells cheese."
"You are lavish with your money."
"My money!" laughed Luke. "Henry
Elgin's money, and I use it to gain the
whole!"
Here Kate Elgin advanced and said
in a plaintive voice:
"Please tell me if James Greene has
called. I am sick and cannot meet
him. When he comes let me see him."
"Certainly," said Hammond. "Would
you like to see your father?"
"He Is in heaven, with my mother,"
said poor Kate. "Who are you?"
"Don't you know me, Catharine? I
am your uncle, Luke Hammond."
"You're a man, are you not, sir?"
asked Kate, but combing her long
curls with her fingers, and looking at
the celling.
"Yes, I am a man."
"Then you are not Luke Hammond,
for he is a serpent!" screamed Kate,
fiercely, and again pacing the room.
"She Is quite crazy just now," re
marked Nancy.
"So much the better," said Ham
mond. "But I hear Daniel rolling
Henry Elgin hither. Remember that I
cannot have my eye on old Fan; watch
her yourself." v
"I will," said, Nancy, as Daniel rolled
the invalid's bed before the door of the
ante-chamber.
Henry Elgin was lying upon it with
an expression of scornful apathy upon
his pale and wasted features, but when
his bed was halted so that his eyes
could sweep through the ante-chamber
into the white and gold, and as he saw
his beloved child sitting in a chair fac
ing him he utter a cry of mingled joy
and anguish.
"Kate; my darling! dear daughter!"
said he, as Hammond held a lamp near
Kate Elgin's face to show the father
the beloved features, all wan, worn
and wasted. She raised her eyes to
his for a second only, then said to
Hammond, but looking at old Fan,
who stood behind her father:
I thought you were leading James
Greene to me."
Old Fan shuddered, and looked be
hind her, as if she expected to see
James Greene rushing at her from the
deep, dark well.
Merciful powers!" cried Elgin,' "my
child does not know me! She is mad!"
Kate began to sing a sad and. mourn
ful song, but laughed wildly ere she
finished, and said:
"This is too sad for a bride to sing."
"Luke Hammond!" cried Elgin, rais
ing himself upon his elbow, "may
heaven blast your 60ul for this work!"
Henry Elgin," said Hammond,
"blame your own obstinacy. You are
the cause of this, and I tell you that
until you obey my desires Catharine
Elgin shall suffer."
Oh, merciful heaven!" groaned the
unhappy father, "take me let Thy
wrath fall upon my head the sins of
my youth merit-Thy punishment but
spare my child!"
Of what use are your prayers?"
sneered Luke. "Your own hand can
end all this punishment you speak of."
I pray you let me embrace my
child," said Henry Elgin.
His voice, so sad, low and mournful.
seemed to touch some chord of re
membrance in poor Kate's mind, for
she suddenly burst into tears.
Hammond hesitated,' for old Fan was
creeping into the white and gold apart
ment, and he longed to watch her. He
glanced towards Nancy Harker.
Nancy sat near the bed, her hand
hiding her eyes, but Luke knew those
eyes were riveted upon the? movements
and features of old Fan.
'I pray you to suffer me to embrace
my child," repeated Elgin.
Hammond took Kate by the hand
and led her towards her f ather.
'Daniel," said Hammond, fearing
the scene might soften even the stony
heart of his accomplice, "go to my li
braryhere is the key get writing ma
terials ready, and when I call for them
bring them hither."
Daniel nodded, took the key and de
parted. Hammond had made a good
selection of a villain, for Daniel's heart
was as hard as his own. -
"My child, my Katy my poor girl!"
said Elgin, taking the cold, damp hand
of his daughter in his own' and press
ing it to his lips, "do you not recognize
your beloved father?"
Kate seemed deaf, blind and dumb to
all around her. She shed many tears,
but her eyes were fixed upon vacancy.
"She does not know you," said Luke.
"Blame yourself, Henry Elgin."
"Liar I Monster!" said Elgin.
He gazed with tearful eyes upon his
child, who stood passively by the bed,
while Luke Hammond turned his head
aside to watch old Fan.
Fan had reached the doorway of the
white and gold chamber, had crouched
down near the door.
Suddenly she spied the coin on the
floor, laughed , gleefully, and reached
her hand forth to pick it up. As sud
denly, and with a sharp cry, she start
ed back, and stood as erect as she
could,
Luke moved from tne doorway pf tea
ball t ager to watcs,
Drag In Making Dirt Roads.
r the word "drag" we da
n6t mean a harrow, but an
implement such as that
used by Mr. King in 11
'trating his lectures, in
connection with the North
western good roads train, on . the sub
ject of how to make good roads out
of just dirt, or any other kind of
dirt except sand. Those drags are
sometimes made after the arrival of
the car with the split -log, sometimes
from plank of either hard or soft
wood. Anybody can make" the drag,'
and the boy is likely to make- a better
drag than his father.
The question we discuss now is def
initely and specifically how to use it.
Make your drag at once so it will be
ready. After the first rain hitch on to
your drag so as to give it an angle
of about forty -five degrees and go
down one wheel track. ..The best way
is to go from your own front gate to
the next neighbor's front gate on the
way to town, then turn around and
come back on thcother track, smooth
ing down the rough places, filling up
the ruts, and throwing a little dirt to
the centre of the road. It is better
to have the ground quite muddy and
slushy the first time. (Two horses
may not be able to pull the drag if it
is a heavy one, so if necessary, put on
the four-horse evener and hitch up
four.) Then stop. You will have mad$
a smooth passageway some twelve or
fourteen feet wide, a little higher in
the middle than at the sides, which
will shed water fairly well. Then when
it dries off partially, put on your two
horses and go over it again perhaps
that afternoon or the next day then
wait until after the next rain, and
when it is drying off (a little experi
ence will show you ust when it is
right) do It again. Passing teams
in the meantime will have puddled the
earth and made it so that it is par
tially impervious to water. Teams
will not be obliged for comfort to fol
low one track. There will be no ruts
for them to follow and you will find
that they will beat down and compact
the whole of this twelve or fourteen
feet. Then wait until after the next
rain, and do it again, always throw
ing a little dirt to the middle of the
road and gradually grading it up and
filling up any holes-or other uneven
ness. This is a very simple method so
simple that you will not believe in it
until you try it. You will wonder that
you did not think of this long ago; that
it never occurred to you that the
tougher the mud the better the road
it will make. If you want to get your
road a little wider, wait until the next
rain and plow a very shallow furrow
down one side and up the other, hen
take your drag and move this into the
middle of the road and still further
build it up. -
Now, if every reader of Wallace's
Farmer will make the drag and go at
it as above stated, he will do more
toward making good roads in the
neighborhood than has been done by
the road supervisors in the last ten
years, and lo it. with very little ex
pense. Is it not worth while taking
all this trouble to have a piece of
good road in front of your farm? Is
!t not worth while to set an example
to your neighbors between you and
town so that they will be ashamed of
themselves if they do not follow it,
and thus have good roads to town
during the greater portion of the year?
A road treated in this way will shed
water off into the ditch. Water al
ways seeks the easiest way toward the
centre of the earth, and finds it is a
good deal easier to slide off Into the
ditch than it is to get down through,
especially through puddled and almost
Waterproof earth.
It is then up to you to get it out of
the ditch. This can be done only by
drainage, either natural or artificial.
Bear in mind that the drag' will not
take water out of the ditch. Bear in
mind that it will not work on a road
bed of pure sand because sand will not
stick together. If, however, you can
drag a good soil out of the ditch and
mix it with the sand, it will make a
very decent road. Neither will the
drag work in a mire hole where water
stands during the summer season.
You will have a culvert for that, or
otherwise drain it" out.
Do not understand us to say that
this drag is a paneaca for all the ills
of bad roads. It will simply make,
If properly used, a good road out of a
very bad earth road. A good road
must be hard and smooth and oval
all three at the same time. The drag
will make it smooth and in time make
it oval. The tramping of the horses
on earth which has any considerable
percentage or cl?y in it will in time
make it hard.
Bear in mind further that jon can
not make a first class road by drag
ging the first time, the second time,
nor the third. It will, however, make
it a little better every time. It will
be better the second time than the
first, the fifth than the second, and
the tenth than the fifth. Wallace's
Farmer. . "
. Coining Snares.
Most men like women in quite plain
simple clothes. I suppose, on the
whole, says a writer in the London
World, more conquests have been made
by girls in simple white, frocks than
have even been made by those in
elaborate confections.; and a garden
hat well managed, however old it may
be, or, better still, the sunbonnet.
which Is said to be ($mJngr hack to
favor.' can fes reaSe a. jnost dangerou
' THE MAN BEHIND THE BAKS
Opportunities For Self-Betterment In Our
Prisons.
The man behind the bars, as well as
the man behind the gun, has a great
deal depending upon his position, but
more depends upon his aim. ; It is his
business to get into action against
what is in front of him, not to worry
over what has passed. What is before
is living; what is gone is already dying.
The press of the country foresees
what the people want to read, and, like
skilled physicians, anticipates the
"longings" of its patients. In metro-,
politan journals, just now, tales of
prison experiences have some fashion.
Truth matures slowly, and has to be
"aged" and colored a bit to suit the
demands of the up-to-the-hour reader.
Clever pictures of men with striped
suits and cropped heads, moving in line
like an enormous centipede, carrying
cell-buckets in one hand and dinner
plates in the other, marching from
noisome cells to degrading work, tar
gets for brutality and curses, intimi
dated, cruel punishments and despair
all this, no doubt, is interesting, and
only a few are sufficiently Informed to
identify it as fiction and not as record;
to know that none of these things now
exist in any good prison. Morbid curi
osity is everywhere. Some have the
idea that a prison is a living grave
of crime, and would have the walls
made transparent so they can see the
worms gnaw.
Prison walls do not enclose the
Happy Valley of Rasselas, they are
needed more to retain those within
than exclude those without. Strict dis
cipline, steady work, plain food, and
no friends, make a life of Wagnerian
simplicity devoid of the luxury of be
ing able to talk about it; and yet it is
not degrading. No more abrupt sur
prise ever faces a thinking man who
finds himself in a prison, than the dis-e"v-ry
that he is in a place where he
can start right in and do something
for himself, and that he has only to be
have himself to be well treated.
Connecticut is quick at figures. She
knows that approximately 125 men
leave her prison every year. Each
man is just so much floating, pro
ductive capital of either vice, or good.
Her returns from it are sure. She will
have a stated income in kind; the 'dif
ference between a man who does a
thousand dollars' worth of damage and
the man who does a thousand dollars'
worth of honest work is just twice
that sum. The aggregate is enormous.
The State sees the point; and for this
reason, and because the law of human
ity is part of the law of Connecticut,
and because the career of some men
is determined by their treatment
while ino prison, she is modifying her
prison conditions.
Behavior while in prison is not the
sole index of fitness for release; knowl
edge of what a man is, not a record of.
what for a short time he has done,
must decide. That knowledge can be
gained only by continual observation.
To some, it is far less bitter to suffer
punishment than to deserve it. Some
want only time to forget and opportun
ity to make amends. Others want time
to be forgotten and opportunities for
new offenses. Immigrants often im
port those home habits which require
long reflection in suitable surroundings
to eradicate. Monthly Reccrd, Weth
crsfield Prison.
People and Tbeir Weight.
"I believe that nearly everybody is
sensitive about his weight," said a
cigar dealer on Walnut street who has
a penny weighing machine out in
front of his place of business yester
day. "The thin people think they do
not weigh enough and the fat people
think they weigh too much. I have a
lot of fun watching people who use
that weighing machine. Usually be
fore a person drops in his penny he
wii make, sure that no one is near
enough to read the figures on the dial.
If anybody approaches before the hand
has stopped a sensitive person will
sometimes get off the scale. Women
are more sensitive about their weight
than men. Few women will weigh
themselves while anybody is looking.
They seem to guard their weight as
closely as they do their ages. Here's
a little advice: If you want to be
popular with thin women exaggerate
when guessing their weight. If you
would have fat women like you guess
below what you think they weigh."
Kansas City Times.
Diainond Production.
Everybody knows that the productiv
ity of the diamond mines of South
Africa is, comparatively speaking,
enormous. The output of the Kimber-
ley and De Beers mines is restricted to
200,000 carats a month, but statistics
published by De Launay show that by
June, 1896, India had produced, as far
as was known, 10,000,000 carats, Bra
zil 12,000,000 carats and South Africa
(in less than thirty years) .57,000,000
carats, or more than twice the. other
two places indeed, than all others
put together. He estimated, then, that
all the diamonds in the- world would
form, if uncut and packed tight, a cube
measuring forty -five metres (just four
teen feet nine inches) each way, and
be worth about 108,000,000 sterling!
Cornhill Magazine
The Knssian Admiral's Name.
A correspondent writes: ; 'As there
has been a controversy in the Times
about the pronunciation "" of Admiral
Rozhdestvensky's name, ? which is said
to present such insuperable difficulties
to Englishmen, perhaps I may mention
that the difficulty is not so very great.
after all. The accent lies on the sec
ond syllable. The name is pronounced
Rush-dest-vensky. The nickname short
ening it into 'Roj.' (abbreviations like
'Pam.' for Palmerston, 'Dizzy' for Dis
raeli, etc., being 90 dear to English
men) Is certainly wrong,1 It could at
most be 'loseh,' Ladoq Palf MftI
(Jazett, " ';'
Marry Not Too Tonne.
An ancient writer gives this excel
lent advice on matrimony to those who
contemplate it. It is so pithy, so all
wise, that modern maids might well
appreciate it:
"Marry not too young. Let thy lik
ing ripen before thy love, let thy love
advise before you choose, and let thy
choice be fixed before you marry. Re
member that the whole happiness or
unhappiness of thy life depends upon
this one act. Remember nothing but
death-can dissolve this knot, and he
that he repents' of his own act either
is or was a fool by confession."
Net Used For Mourning.
For women in mourning there, are no
prettier biouseS than black silk net,
built over China silk. These .have
pleats held dowusvith black feather
stitching, ending in padded crow's feet.
There is a small, transparent yoke of
the net and stock to match, and the
sleeves are laid in pleats to fit the arm
from wrist to shoulder.
While messaline is beautiful, and has
been widely advocated, it is not always
a wise choice, because it wrinkles so
badly. It will stand formal wear with
out a coat, but for skirts it is a failure.
Taffeta shows no signs of revival for
a separate shirt waist. Of course, one
sees plenty of taffeta shirt waists, but
they are not in first style unless worn
with a skirt to match. They are sold
cheaper than ever for that reason;
they are too warm for summer, be
cause they must be lined, and they are
not durable because . the moisture
makes the silk crack. Indianapolis
News.
Wedding Gowns.
The princesse model is always a fav
orite one to choose, and, now that it
is in fashion to have the front of the
waist draped, it is far more becoming.
No trimming is necessary on either
silk or satin that is, on the skirt-
while a lace yoke and dainty, cobwebby
ace ruffles on the sleeves are all-suf
ficient. If a more elaborate effect is
desired, then an embroidered design
worked out in silk with seedpearls or
rhinestones is effective on a Wide band
around the hem of the skirt, but some
how the plain, rather severe style that
relies only upon, the beauty of the ma
terial and the graceful folds seems
smarter and more attractive.
Pleated white chiffon wedding gowns
are charmingly soft in effect, and for a
wedding there can be nothing daintier,
while the same gown covered with
flounces of lace is exquisitely soft in
effect and finish. Sheer white organdie
and silk mull are used also for season
able wedding gowns with most satis
factory results. In fact, almost any
white material is thought possible.
Harper's Bazar.
A Remarkable Woman.
Recent English newspapers record
the death in her ninety-first year, at
Coventry, of Mrs. Charles Bray, a re
markable woman in more ways than
one. in literature sne acnievea a con
siderable measure of success with her
Physiology and the Laws of Health,"
The British Empire: A Sketch of the
Geography, Growth, etc., of the United
JSingdom," "Our Duty to Animals,"
The Elements of Morality," and three
short stories "Richard Barton," "Paul
Bradley" and "Little Mop." More
over, she was a pioneer worker in the
cause of the prevention of cruelty to
animals, and was the founder of a so
ciety for that purpose In Coventry
Socially she enjoyed for many years
the reputation of being one of the most
fascinating hostesses; of her time. But
she will be remembered chiefly, per
haps, for her close intimacy with
George Eliot an intimacy shared by
her husband and her sister, Sarah
Hennell which was maintained for
forty years.' The writer of "Adam
Bede" used to say that Mrs. Bray was
the most guileless woman soul with
whom she had ever been, brought into
contact. New York Evening Post.
Our Children.
The growing number of children with
a tendency to curvature of the spine is
attributed by Dr. Luther H. Gulick, di
rector of physical training in the New
York public schools, to the constant
carrying of heavy books to and from
ichool.
The trouble -usually begins in the
seventh grade, when the average num
ber of books carried home for study Is
four, with a weight of five or six
pounds. These are ordinarily carried
on the left arm by sixty-three per cent
of both boys and girls, with the result
that the carriage of the body is bent to
one side, in direct proportion to weight
of books carried. .
The children most likely to be af
f effted by this custom are those of
weak musculation; the proud, ambi
tious nervous girl being specially sus
ceptible. To counteract this unfortu
nate tendency Dr. Gulick advises that
children be taught and watched to see
that they carry books on each sid al
ternately, or else to follow the practice
of European schools, where pupils
carry their books home in a modified
form of knapsacks, the weight of
which rests on the back. Philadelphia
Inquirer.
Thrifty Girl's Tact.
When once a girl ot limited income
realizes what great variety may be
given to her one or two evening gowns
by tb$ use of artificial flowarg a trim
5U5! ih$ Uraigbtway, pet th
credit among her friends of having
more, frocks than is really the iase.
For, by having detachable flower dec
orations and several sets of them, ex
traordinary variety is arrived at.
Moreover, now that flowers are so
much in vogue as a trimming, this eco
nomical arrangement is especially
happy.
The flowers themselves need not.be
expensive at all, for they are always
to be found upon bargain tables In the
big shops, and it is a good thing to be
on the lookout for them. . Do not wait
until you need a set, but buy it when
you see something pretty and cheap.
To tell precisely how to handle the
flowers for a frock is impossible beyond
giving a few general hints. The line
should always be graceful, 'and if the
neck has hollows it is quite possible
to so arrange the blossoms of foliage
that the bones shall be concealed. This
is best done by putting on "the frock
and pinning on the flowers' before sew
ing them; indeed, the trimming will
never be so successful if it is put on
with the frock on a dummy.
Whatever color is used, a certain
amount of. foliage should be introduced.
The green breaks . the sameness of the
general color, and is in itself pretty.
Advice to Wonld-Be Stenographer.
I called on the principal of a most
flourishing business- school. I wanted
a stenographer for some special work.
"I could not recommend one girl on
our list to-day. Not thai these girls
are incompetent stenographers,," he
added, hastily, "but I know that for
general dictation like yours they lack
the knowlege of English."
'Then what are they fitted for?"
'Oh, they take what wo call cheap
positions, for five or six dollars a week.
They learn by experience. At first they
are given copying and unimportant dic
tation. If they are under the right sort
of man or woman, some one who is
patient, they gradually acquire a.
knowledge of their own language, or
at least as much of it as bears on their
employer's business. The great trouble
is that girls try to build a knowledge
of stenography on wabbly foundations
of English. After having wasted their
time in the public schools, they expect
us - to make up all their deficiencies
while teaching them stenography. Girls
are pushed into business at too early
an age. They should have at least one
year in the high school before study
ing stenography." Woman's Home
Companion.
Quaint Effect In Gowns.
AH things make for the quaint effect,
and unless there is a decided change in
fabrics and modes the picturesque will
still reign in the summer fashions.
While the costume de style is unques
tionably the sartorial privilege of the
rich woman, she wbo has a more lim
ited dress allowance may avail herself
of certain odd touches In gown or ac
cessories which will carry her some dis
tance from the tailor-made.
Among the high-priced fabrics which
lend themselves readily to these quaint
effects may be mentioned the fancy
velvets and brocades, stiff enough to
stand alone. Very quaint and old-fashioned-
are the striped velvets, in
which velvets and a corded silk alter
nate. These are offered in all the pop
ular dahlia shades, and for the stately
dowager there comes the most beauti
ful amethyst.
Brocades come in self-tone and the
most violent contrasts, including real
istic flowers on white cream or very
pale tinted ground. A variant of the
brocade is a very wide silk, woven in
imitation of pompadour ribbon. Plain
silks continue to gain in luster, but
the old, stiff satins have given place to
a more supple weave. Faille, which
has not been seen on the market for
many years, is given in evidence, but
in a more soft and lustrous guise.
Newark Advertiser.
The sleeves of the boleros are prac
tically all short, and many of them are
draped. N
Two styles in street suits are avail
able; the short, loose box coat, and the
redicgote.
There are tight fitting, three-quarter
coats. It would seem as though all
figures were provided for.
An old pink chiffon cloth gown had a
skirt -with a centre seam, on either
side of which was .an inverted pleat.
The boleros are the slightest little
affairs, many of them hardly more than
capes, and the effects are all loose and
informal.
The blouses . worn with these suits
may be of taffeta or some other 6ilk
of a matching color, or thin white silk,
linen or lawn. "
A pretty example of a short waist
suit was seen in a yellow and cream
colered taffeta, with a brown hair
stripe through it.
An example of the cape-like boleros
was seen in . An almond-green- voile,
made with a princess skirt, pin-tucked
all around at the hips.
The lingerie waist of lawn or hand
kerchief linen will doubtless be the
favorite, the short sleeves gvina a
chance for the lace-trlmmeq blouit
rim. t& fhow 0 aflrantag