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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (April 26, 1906)
(Uop> rigut, lWo6, by Ju»epii U. Bowles) Silence hung heavy In the plaza of Santa Fe late one afternoon in 1862. Suddenly there came a clatter of hoof3, unsteady with weariness, scattering :he stillness with sharp echoes. A man, coming out at the moment from sns of the low adobe buildings, waved his hand and the rider drew up short and stopped. The two man as they faced each other were in striking contrast. One stood with his teet well apart, sinews pulled tight like wire-rope over his slight frame. The other, broad shoulders bent with fatigue, begrimed with dirt, but black eyes flashing with the unsubdued fire of youth, swung himself trom me sweating, panting beast. They were both pony express riders. The dismounted rider’s knees rave un der him and he leaned against his horse for support. “Tired?” asked the older man with a malevolent grin. The young fellow stared at him vaguely for a moment. Then a thought seemed to strike him, for he leaned for ward eagerly. “Look-a-here, Harry! I'm petered, you’re fresh. You go to Fort Union an’ back for me fer a ten -spot?" “I’ll go,” said the other, and they walked slowly to the corral. Half an hour later “Old Harry” Simmons roue dowa the plaza. Meanwhile Ralph Meal was lying sprawled on a narrow burnt in the corral, sleeping the sleep of sheer exhaustion. Ralph Mead had been left fatherless, motherless and penniless when he was 11 years old. His nearest relatives had bound him out to a hard-headed Con necticut farmer who believed in cor poral punishment for persons smaller than himself. Three months later the boy slipped out of the house of his slav ery and started west in pursuit of ex citement and happiness. He was now 18 years old, with the muscle and judg ment and experience of a frontiersman of 30. The sun was glaring sullenly through the doorway when he awoke sud lenly. “Here you, Mead! Git up an’ out o’ this.” “What’s matter?” he asked, still half “You’ve pot to go to Fort Union.” Mead smiled reproachfully and, lying back once more, curled up on the bunk and closed his eyes. “Harry Simmons—gone—Fort Union,” he said, sleepily. “Simmons’s dead. Killed and scalped at Pecos Church”—he heard the voice say. Then he jumped to his feet, and threw on his clothes as he listened. “Party of Mexicans—just came in— found Simmons. Indians out, Navahoes and White Mountain Apaches. Regular trail dangerous.” These were the words that his now acute senses heard and understood. The black mustang had killed two men and had maimed a third before 111 l J k.i JSM. I " 1 J.l.PJ -JIM. ■ A 1 STARTED WEST. Mead had broken him. Now he was the rider's slave, and proud of It. No one else dared ride him. And so, on they went through the hot sunshine. Mead's brain steadied by sleep, his senses keen, his horse throbbing beneath him, and danger ahead. As he rounded a turn In the trail into which a great rock had jutted and ob scured the view, the bloody scene lay quivering before him. At the right of the roadway Indians; at the left, Indi ans, crou ching behind bowlders, hiding in the chaparral, sliDping sinuously among the high bunch grass, fighting across the trail that lay before him. Only a setond he hesitated. He could not go back. Some of them had prob ably already seen him. “I started fer Fort Union,” Hfe mut tered, “and by th' eternal I’m goin’!” Mead dropped the rein over the high pommel of his saddle and leaning for ward. lay close to the mustang’s neck, seizing as he did so the revolvers from his high boots. Almost instantly they were in the midst of it, the beast plung ing sure-footed over dead bodies still warm in the alkali dust, the man shoot ing at random to both right and left and bellowing at the top of his voice. Almost before he knew it he was past them and boring straight on through the whistling wind. His mad daring had saved him tem porarily, but it had also united the fight ing war parties. They were probably the same bands which had ambushed Simmons and had later cut across to the canyon and quarreled there. They were coming* Mead heaved a deep sig'a and called again to the mustang; they started down the narrow trail beyond. A/ow rambling structure, like a group of huts, sprang up suddenly beside the road, and in the doorway stood a girl. Mead started as he saw her—a girl, and those devils behind! The mustang plowed her fore feet Into the ground and stopped. “Injuns—half mile back—cornin’ rapid,” he shouted. The girl, of good height for a woman, broad-hipped, full breasted, a healthy red showing through the tan of her cheeks, her smooth brown hair braided carelessly to her waist, her arms akimbo, stared at him doubtfully as he filled with quick slaps the empty chambers of a revolver. “Git along, stranger," she called. In singsong tones. “Reckon jrou’n afeard." The mustang's ears at that instant stood straight once more and quivering. Mead turned upon the girl, and covered her with the revolver. "Git yer horse an’ yer family goin’, quick,” he ordered, deliberately. For a second I he girl did not move, but smhed defiantly at him; then she stood bolt upright, tense, listening. She heard now tne eonfi se 1 rumble of many horses, far away, at whic h the tired mus tang was already dancing impatiently. Sne disappeared wiiLi the building while he sat in the narrow trail, the noise of the pursuit growing rapidly louder in his ears. A frightened whin nying came from somewhere at the rear of the main cabin; a door slammed and a single, squatty, dirty-yellow mustang sprang into sight around the corner o! the structure, the girl straddling its bare back. At that moment a shrie ing, echoing yell arose behind them. They hal teen seen. Then the race began once more, the black mustang pounding do-gedly behind the wicked pace of th6 ye„ow beast. Two miles farther on he came up with the girl as they were fording a narrow creek. “Ain’t seen an Injun sence we’ve ben thar,” she gasped between breaths, as if in explanation. “Lad, he’s went to ; Santa Fe.” imuu iu cauyuu: She nodded her head as they reached the farther bank and she too;; the lead again. But the black mustang was i weakening; his gait wavered, his eyes were bloodshot. At last he stumbled and fell on one knee, the leg snapped, and he lay quive.ing across the trail. The girl turned abruptly an 1 came back. Mead took the mall bags from the mus tang’s back and threw them to her. “I’ll hold ’em back while ye git a start,” he said, laconically, drawing his 1 pistols. He turned to face the trail, “^ood-by,” he ca.ied over his shoulder. “Stranger: ” the girl said, quietly. Ha whirled and faced a small pistol she had j drawn from her belt. “Git up behind, j quick. I ain’t a-goin' to budge a foot ef ye don't,” she added as he hesitated. Mead laughed aloud as he thought how quickly she had turned his own game upon him. Then she laughed also as ho turned and mercifully shot the black mustang, before .eaping up behind her. The yellow mustang struggled for ward bravely under the double burden, but the contest was unequal. The hoof beats behind them grew louder and at last they could hear the noise of gut tural voices from behind the turns in the winding trail. A few moments later an arrow struck fire in the roadway be side them. Then, as Mead reached down for a revolver, the girl uttered a low cry. There was the fort, less than a mile away, its bare walls looming gray in the distance. Together they spurred the straining beast beneath them down the long in cline, while arrows and an occasional bullet whirred and sang about them. They could hear now the quick breath of the tired horses behind them, the tri umphant shouts, the beat of stinging thongs upon a dozen haunches. Now came the short up-hill stretch to the fort, a little more than a quarter of a mile away, but the exhausted mustang shivered with each bound up the ascent, his reach growing shorter, his pace slow er. Two arrows struck him almost at the same instant, and he fell heavily. But Mead had jumped clear, carrying the girl with him. They were on their feet quickly. “Run!" he called. His first shot rang out, and an Indian trailed from the sad dle. Others went down before his steady aim as he ran backward up the in cline. His left arm fell limp and the pistol dropped to the ground. Some one picked it up. Some one was firing calm ly beside him. The horses were almost on them and the sneering, gloating, painted faces, when he heard vaguely a rumbling, many-votced cheer behind him, then the foremost Indians looked beyond him and wheeled suddenly and dashed down the hill in scattering con fusion. A fety days later a man. his arm still in a sling, rode down the hill from Fort Union. A girl rode beside him. The man looked at her furtively now and then and his rugged face showed em barrassment. “Say,” he said at last, “I’ve got a red colored temper. I'm mean, I am.” “Huh!” she answered, staring at the trail. The man hesitated for a moment. “I’ve got $14.17 exact,” he remanced. The girl did net change her position. The man was silent for a moment or two. "Where’re ye headin’fer?” he asked, with something like a sigh. She turned and looked at him, a smile quivering about her full lips. “Where’re you-all goin'?” she asked, meaningly. The two horses came close together and stopped short to the tug of their bridles. After a time they went on once more. “What’ll yer dad say?” asked the man. "Dad,” returned the girl, patting her mustang’s neck caressingly, “he weren’t good fer much, tho’ he meant right, dad did. Ef he's alive, he’ll jest go off ’bout his business.” “Say,” cried the man, a thought sud denly striking him. “What's yer | name?” “Annie,” she said. AS IN A ROSE JAR. i As In a rose Jar filled with petals sweet. Blown long ago in some old garden place, Mayhap, where you and I, a little space, ' Drank deep of love and knew that love was fleet— Or leaves once gathered from a lost re treat. By one who never will again retrace Ker silent footsteps—one, whose gentle face Was fairer than the roses at her feet. So, deep within the vase of memory, I keep my dust of roses fresh and dear As in the days before I knew the smart Of time and death. Nor aught can take from me The haunting fragrance that still lingers here— As in a rose jar, so within my heart! —Thomas S. Jones, Jr., In Appleton's Booklovers Magazine. Mice in Mines. White mice are to be put to novel use in South Africa. It has been shown that with 0.4 per cent, of carbon mon oxide in the air, one of these very sus ceptlble animals becomes unconscious in three minutes, but that a man feels no discomfort for half an hour. It is urged, therefore, that operators of coal mines, and even of metalliferous mines, be required to test the air by means of these creatures whenever the presence of dangerous gaa la suspected. ON SUPERSTITIONS SCHOOLGIRLS DO NOT ESCAPE FASCINATION. Many Girls Still Obey SHly Traditions That Destroy One's Peace of Mind —Presenting Edged Tools, Spill ing Salt and Thirteen at the Table —Some Superstitions Cause More Fun Than Fear—Illusions of the “Peter Pan” Sort Are Good for Schoolgirls—The Practical Fairies That Fight for One in Daily Life Are Order, Promptness, Obedience, Courage and Love. BY MARGARET E. SANGSTER. Superstition is utmost as old as the human race, and even schoolgirls do not entirely escape its fascination. No matter how strong most o£ us may be in our resistance to foolish fears and fancies, we have somewhere in the back of our minis little leelings about certain signs and we begin very early In lite to shape our conduct by them. For instance, very few of us care to make a present to a lriend of an edged too!. I know several otherwise sensible people who teil me that some of their most prized friendships have ' been cut in two because they gave or received a knife. 1 myself would not object to receiving a knite as a gift, whether it we re intended tor carving a roast, or dividing the leaves of a book. All sorts of knives from those of finely tempered sieel, intended tor the table, to dainty little pearl-nandled affairs that may be carried in the pocketbook, appeal to me as particularly desirable possessions. Yet 1 know very few persons who do not like to add a bit of silver or copper lo such an exchange, that it may seem to be a matter ot barter and sale, rather than of gift making. "Don’t give Mabel a knife on her birthday,” I heard Priscilla’s mother gravely say. to her daughter, "for as surely as you do you and Mabel will quarrel." The same superstition about spoil ing friendship elmgs *o the spilling ot salt on the tablecloth. It is held to be most unlucky to do this, and it is supposed that it forebodes friction be tween those who ere sitting nearest the spilled salt. O" course, this super stition and the other date a long way hark to those primitive times when men settled everything speedily by knife thrust or bjew, so that knives were dreaded weapons instead of use ful tools. This superstition harks back to the period when a man pulled off his glove in greeting a friend or neigh bor in token that he had nothing con cealed, and so gave the naked hand. The other about <he salt has an orien tal origin. In the tent of the Arab, though he might be a tobber, there was hospitality for the wayfaring guest, and if the latter shared bread and salt with hi# host, his life and property were sacred. So you may easily read between the lines that salt is an emblem of friendship, and that its spilling signifies a breach of friend ship. I should be sorry to think that the girls of to-day, who will be the women of to-morrow, were in the least under the bondage of silly traditions in which there is very little common sense. v\ hy should anyone dread to pass under a ladder except for the reason that the ladder may fall? Why should the howling of a dog give one uneasi ness or there be any meaning attached to the dropping of spoons and forks? Why do some people hesitate to sit down at the table when the company numbers 13? If the family should hap pen to consist of father and mother and 11 children, would mere always be one who had to v.ait tor the second table? This latter superstition is sup posed to recall ihe last supper of Je sus with His disciples, when one of the group proved to be a traitor. Nearly everything we do, say or think, strikes deep roots into the past, If we can find and trace them out. In my school clays giris put them selves to an immense amount of trou ble when walking on the street that they might avoid stepping on a crack in the pavement, it was sure to cause trouble in the schoolroom in the way of imperfect recitations and badly drawn maps if one unfortunately touched a crack with the toe of her boot. Older persons were sometimes surprised at the erratic progress of children who wera bending their en ergies to this careful sort of walking. A school friend of mine had a theory that nothing would prosper with Helen if she did not put her shoes at night in a particular spot, and set them precisely side by side. It took her a long time \o get settled in bed, as she had to jump out a number of times in order to be sure that her shoes were standing exactly as they should to a hair's breadth. There used to he. too, t. proverb re garding Indian givers. These were generous in making presents, but they reeretted them afterwards and wanted them back, a sorry thing in itself and rather mean. Bn-pams cnce conclud ed should stand last, as we all know. Some of us nad delicious tears that we greatly enjoyed about passing a certain place in a forest not far lrom the school. Here there was a tumble down cottage falling into ruins, the haunt of bats, jats. and spiders. We scurried past it with frantic haste, lest something we know not what should spring form and seize us. You remember James Whitcomb Riley’s poem with the line, "The goblins will catch you if you don’t watch out." That was what we dreaded and yet we had great fun tn running races past the enchanted corner and eluding the witches and elves who were hidden behind those broken window panes. Superstition of every kind is a sort of poetry. This is why unlettered races deal so much In beautiful folk lore. As we become learned in math ematics and science we cease to be lieve in fairies and eKes. For my part, I am glad that a great throng of schoolgirls have gone to see the pretty drama of "Petev Pan." There are me illusions that never ought to be destroyed. Whetner you agree with me or not, 1 must tell you that it doea you no harm to tvlieve in the fairies. Perhaps you may never have the good fortune that befcl' a dear little Irish maid who used to work m my kitchen. She told me in good talth that she had often seen the good people, as she called the fairies, dancing in the moonlight on a green knoll behind her father’s house In the land across the sea. We so scon leave the morning mists and the poetry behind us that we re fuse to see the beauty that is tucked away in myths and dreams. Study folk lore and you will be studying poetry, and a little poetry sweetens life’s prose, and i3 like honey on one’s bread. Your fairies, when you descend to the practical, will be named Order, System, Promptness, Application, Obe dience, Hope, Courage and Love. These are forever the good fairies who fight and conquer in the battles ol life, and drive away the baleful Influ ences that menace our peace and use fulness, as we study, work and play. (Copyright, 11)00. by Joseph B. Bowles.) INEXPENSIVE FROCKS. In the Summer One Can Get Up Very Fetching Dresses at Small Out lay of Money. One may buy such delectable sum mer fabrics at any price from ten cents to three dollars that it seems as 11 only a lack of taste can prevent even the most Impecunious of summer girls from beiug a radiant vision in the coming season. We have seen a lawn frock made of ten-cent material which would do credit to the most fastidious of Dres den china shepherdesses—a lawn of white ground with at wide intervals a single pink rosebud and leaves. The pink is a soft, lovely shade, the leaves are of delicate green and the material washes perfectly, as the buyer diseov — XJ JUST A FEW CENTS A YARD. ered by washing a sample before buy ing her frock. At 12cents there are other pretty lawns in small flower design or dot or interwoven circles, or in the very finest of flower stripes alternating with white stripes, along which pin dots of color are thickly set. Twenty-five cents op°ns up an embarrassment of choice — dimities, organdies, lawns, swisses. To be sure, one may find exquisite embroidered swi-ses running up in price to two or three dol'ars, but there are very effective dotted swisses with printed flower design at 25 cents. Of the figured dimities we have spoken before, but they grow daintier and more desirable each week, with their tiny flower designs overruniug the varied checks and stripes. Or gandies, too, have followed suit, and though beautiful large designs are shown there are newer things which tend to large bar effects of white ground and small scattered single blos soms or sprays. PREACHED TO EMPTY SEATS Vicar Boycotted Had for His Only Hearer Daughter Who Killed Herself. The strange and unhappy state of affairs which exists at Stokes Lyne, in Oxlordshire, has been brought to light through the tragedy which occurred lately at the local vicarage, relates the London Graphic. The vicar’s daughter, a clever girl of 14, commit ted suicide by taking poison, an'' at the inquest her father, the Rev. Wil liam Bryant, declared that the boy cotting to which he had been subject e by his parishioners had preyed up on the child's mind and caused her to take her life. The coroner refused to accent Mr. Bryant's statement as e idence. and in consequence the vicar has commu nicated with the home office with a view to a further inquiry. The position at Stoke Lyne appears to be far worse than may ima-ined from the inquest reports. Mr. Bryant was appointed virer of the parish ,n ’fOfl. and in 1897, differences seem to hove aris°u between him and some of bis leading peonte. Th“ strained re lations grew w^rse until abouf two veers ago Mr. Brvant found himself wi h one supporter—his little daugh ter. S-ndav after Snn’ey has passed, festival has succeeded fast, and M-. Bryant has gone on conducting his services in a church emnty but for the little girl and an occasional str''n~e-. He Is without choir and organist, has to act as his own bell ringer and can find no one even to clean the building. In March, 1904, the use of the school building was refused to the vicar by a meeting of the managers. On Sunday the vicar conducted the service as usual, but there was no one present to Join him, the sad Incident at the vicarage having deprived him of his only follower. Russian Conscripts. Every year about 280,000 conscripts are added to the Russian army. In times of peace It numbers 1,000 000 men, and Is the largest standing army I In avUlenca PRETTY CROCHET LACE. No Trimming at Present Sore Fash ionable Than Beal Crochet—It Is Agreeable Work. 1st row: 23 chain, turn, a treble In the fourth and 1 into each of the next 5 stitches, 5 chain, pass 4, and double crochet in the next, 10 chain, a double crochet in end chain, turn. 2nd row: *, 4 double crochets un der the chain loop just made, 5 trebles under same loop 5 chain, a. double crochet on the double crochet in mid dle of previous row, 5 chain, pass 3 stitches, a treble in each of the other 9, turn. 3d row: 3 chain (counting as 1 treble), 10 trebles. 2 chain, pass to the fourth chain-stitch past the double crochet, 7 trebles, 9 chain into the second double crochet, turn. '• 4th row: 13 double crochets under loop just made, 20 trebles, turn with 3 chain. 5th row: 25 trebles (the turning chain counting as the rst), 9 chain ia third double crochet, turn. Cth row: 13 double crochets under the loop, 11 chain, back into lifth double crochet, turn again and work 16 double crochets under the last made loop, 2 trebles to complete the previous loop and 1 treble on each of the next 5 stitches (7 trebles), 5 chain, pass 5, 4 trebles into the next, leaving A LACE THAT IS VERY MUCH THE ! FASHION. the last loop of each stitch on the look, and then drawing through all :he loops at once so as to form one .hick, or raised stitch, 5 chain, pass ». 9 trebles, turn. 7th row: 25 trebles, 7 chain in fifth double crochet, turn. 8th row: 11 double crochets under loop, 25 trebles, turn. 9th row: 11 trebles, 7 chain, pass 2, 7 trebles, 9 chain in end treble, turn. 10th row: 13 double crochets under the chain loop, 5 trebles, 5 chain, double crochet into the fourth chain stitch, 5 chain pass 2 trebles, 1 treble an each of the next 9. 11th row: 7 trebles, 5 chain into the double crochet, 10 chain, double crochet into the last treble of row, and repeat from * for length of lace re quired, after which the two rows of edging are added, and also the head ing. 1st row of edging: 3 chain into every other stitch. 2nd row of edging: Commence at the first loop of previous row, *, 5 chain back into the first, 5 chain back into first, 5 chain back in to first, 5 chain back into first (forming 4 little loops or picots), pass over 2 loops, a double crochet in the third, and repeat from *; the illustration will show how the scallops are connected. 1st row: 5 trebles under the end stitch of the first row, a double cro chet under the next, and repeat. 2nd row: *. 1 treble on second treble of previous row, 1 chain 1 treb e on fourth, 2 chain, pns3 to the second stitch of the next group and repeat from *. 3rd row: 1 treble 1 chain in every other stitch. 4th and 5th rows: Same as last, bit working the trebles upon the chain stitches of the previous row. Bath and Beauty. It is necessary for a person to take as good care of the body as the face to obtain the clear, healthy complexion so much desired by all. A cold bath every morning for very vigorous persons, or once or twice a week, and thoroughly rubbing with a coarse towel or nesh brush mornings when the bath is not taken, for the less robust is necessary to keep the functions of the skin in health and very Invigorating. Arter warm baths at night a dash of cold water will prevent chills. C'othing worn during the day should never he slept in, and that worn at night should be exposed during the day to the air. Quantities of moisture filled with the waste of the body are given off every day and mostly absorbed by clothing. Exposure to air and sunlight purifies j the clothing and bedding of the poisons ! which nature is trying to get rid of and ' which would otherwise be brought1 again in contact with the body. By following these healthful everyday di rections and taking equally pood care of the face you will soon notice a de- 1 cidea improvement in the tone of your whole system. The Eyes. When the eyes have been Irritited through excessive use a compress of fine linen wet with very cold water will generally bring relief. An evew s'n j that is particularly excel’ent when in flammation has set in can be maue by combining 15 drops of spirits of cam phor, one teaspoonful of boric acid and two-thirds of a cupful of boiling water. Cool, strain through muslin and apply j every hour with an eyecup. Veils with thick, heavy dots are extremely bad for i the eyes, and they are not half as pret- I ty as the finer French veils with a large dot scattered here and there. Heading In the twilight or continuing to do fancy work when the eyes are tired should be forbidden. A FAMILIAR SAYING. ▲ cob botM.—Indianapolis Sentinel, i COUNTESS DRESSMAKER. Vary Much the Fashion Nowadays for Women of High Position to Go Into Business. The Countess Fabricotti made her debut as a milliner in London a short time ago, and never before in the Brit ish capital was there such a millinery opening. The shop was transformed into a bower and tne ici.e was like a drawing room receplion .n the heighth of the season. Social .eaners, meinuers of the nobility, men as well as women, came to pay their respects to the countess, to whom, afterward, fashion able London was expected to pay its bills. The countess, a handsome woman, gowned in white muslin, with a design of green leaves and white flowers, re ceived, assisted by two of the debu tantes of the season. Three livened footmen handed out tea and cake. I'ni formed lackeys were in attendance, and outside was a line of carriages, many of them bearing the arms of no ble families. The prices charged by the countess In her new shop are even higher than her position in the peerage. She charges fabulous prices for simple lit tle toques that could be purchased elsewhere for $10. She asks $50—and gets it—for a simple dress hat with plumes, and $100 is considered reason able for anything. The countess is well known in American society in New York and Newport, and is a beautiful woman. Three years ago she was a member of W. C. Whitney’s house party at Aiken, S. C., and she was known as one of the most artistically gowned and jeweled women in the world. It was reported onre that W. C. Whitney was engaged to her, and August Belmont was one of her admirers. Her venture into the millinery field was purely for financial reasons. She thought she could make artistic hats for London society, and that society would pay well for artistic effects produced at the hands or under the direction of one of their own set with whom they could discuss the ie comingness of the headgear on terms of equality. So she enlisted the aid of Princess Hatzfeldt, daughter of the late Collis P. Huntington, who agreed to finance the venture. The countess studied under M. Virot for six months and learned the aH of hat-making—not the business, but the art. She does no work with her own hands, only overseeing tne building of all hats and supplying the finishing ar tistic touches. She is said to have the true artist’s appreciation of lines. ”Ah,” said M. Virot. "That is where the hand of the artist shows itself. The eye of discrimination is born. We of the aristocracy of art create. For that we demand the prices that art de mands." FASHION NOTES. Scallops are in evidence upon any and every sort of gown and blouse— the old-fashioned scallop, stitched care fully and perhaps piped with silk ol the same or a contrasting color. Dressy suits of light voiles and veil ings are sharing honors with dresses, for blouses are taking deeper hold up on the aftection3 of women every where, and the light suits make pos sible the displaying of rich, beautiful blouses, trimmed with an affectation of simplicity which deceives every body (that is, of the sterner sex!) as to their exquisite extravagance. And following in the wake of pom padour silks are a thousand and one dowered stuffs, organdies and musiins and dimities, and the rest of the tribe of sheer summer stuff, so'me of them woven so that the threads grew cl ;er here and there, forming effective p!axs, upon which background the flower de signs loom up in more picturesque style than ever. Paris has declared that white Is still to be first favorite, and then, with the charming inconsistency tor which she is famous, has sent over faicinating muslins, with the color note contrived by means of embroidery, in true French blue, which shares honors with the embroidery done in white, the two being on the same piece. Raspberry red is at its loveliest in Burlingham and rajah silks, cc mine out in a shade that is at once rich and soft. Pompadour silks grow lovelier and loveiier, and prove the prettiest sort ol things for making stunning afternoon gowns of. Patent leather and gun metal (as the dull-flnish leather is called) fight fot supremacy. Both are tremendously popular for pumps, and both are im proved by that prim little bow ol leather. Colors bid fair to have a certain prominence, but white and black are far and away most popular, without a single formidable rival. That Is, as yet! For nobody know? whether, by the time we’re "knee-deep in June, ’ fashion won’t have decided to give us some startlingly new tning In the way of fascinating footgear. Cologne Water. Bathing the late In coiogne water Is very refreshing, and is really beneficial to the skin if not used too often. A very good formula, If you care to pre pare it yourself. Is 30 drops each of oil of lavender, oil of bergamot, oil ol lemon and orange flower water, and half a pint of deodorized alcohol. Cork ind shake well. You can double the recipe if you desire. Mourning Cards. Cards may be sent in response to vritten messages of condolence. They ire the size of the calling card, have nourning borders, and are inclosed In mvelopes to fit, also black-bordered. Stationery is not so heavily bordered is formerly. Girls Dance Together. Dancing in India is held in the lighest esteem and dates back many :enturies. The girls never dance with he men, but with one another, per orming all sorts of grotesque figures. Useless Words. Statistics show that the sooner a man iliows his wife to have the last word he sooner the controversy will end.— Chicago Dally News. French Commodity. Potato starch is used In France to 1 weeten sour grape Juice I CONCERNING THE NURSERY Paint la Beat for the Walla—Ventila tion Must Be Seen To—Furni ture Suitably Low. Oil-painted walls are the ideal flu sh for the nursery or for children' rooms generally. They may be washe easily; the finish does not flake off an. fill the air with impalpable dust, a do water colors under the same cii cumsatnces, and the surface of th oil paint will defy the fingers of th little ones in their more mischievou moods when the de ire seizes them t. Investigate the component parts c of the family home. Where the purs will permit, the ornamenting of th walls of the nursery may become i step of genuine importance. The idea coloring cf the walls for the nurser; when plain Is a soft olive green wit! bright tan ceiling. This is good fo the eyes and the nerves and offers i lesson in harmonious co.or.ng.>-. Correct ventilation shouid be na< from the top of the windows either b; means of a wheel introduced ii th> upper window pane or by the construe tion of a transom six Inches or mor< deep, which shall extend quite acros; the window, and which may be le: down from the top, making a V-shapec opening, and not open from the top making an inverted V. The latte; would direct a current of air up u th< heads of the occupants. The forme: would make an injurious dra.t impos sible. If the windows are lower that four feet from the floor they should b< provided with bars or strong wire lat tice or screens. Window shields foi the nursery are sold in many style3 both simple and costly. The best floor treatment is hard oil with small rugs about that may bt tal.en up and shaken ea?h m rn'ng. A satis!actory cr:b is o ei' meled iron with no ornament. F. r t ny chil dren it shouid be provide, with a muslin valance adjusted ar. uud the top of th? frame so as to protect the little sleeper within from all drafts, This should be of the simplest mus lin that may be laundered every week or as often as the rest pf tha linen. A !ow built in seat, a foot or less nigh is a convenience for the child and removes him from all temptation tc sit long on the floor, where, if any where, drafts are to be felt. Unless the regularly made nursery furniture adapted to child stature is bought a small kitchen tabl? may be enameled either white or b ue. Old chairs in the same way may be short ened and painted. A cot may serve instead of built in seat, and fh. uld be cut low tor juvenile convenience. A toy box should be con tr cted, and, if possible, a play cupboard in which play pinafores may be h'in?. And ii the little one be taught to put away both toys and aprons at nighr the first lessens in neatn ss, wh ch 1 ad to the formation of helpful habits, will have been learned.—Chicago Tribune. A CHARMING BEDROOM. It Takes Taste as Well as Money to Get Results—What One Girl Accomplished. It is not in buying a set of French furniture for a boudoir and knowing that the decoration of the walls corre spond in design and period that art lies. For instance, here is the way a girl of taste as well as wealth has a dressing-room arranged, which is done entirely in the low pieces of the eighteenth century salons. In it she has managed to introduce an a r of cozy comfort which is not usually associated with this period. First, on the floor in front of every place where one can sit either to dress or to lounge are scattered oblong cush ions rather sti.Tiy upholstered. There :s one under the toilet table, one in front of the high-backed settle, and one near a dear little oblong seat which has low caned supports at each end. Fitting in this there is also a cushion by way of upholsterin?, and it is cleverly arranged within the folds of a’ screen which really is the p ece de resistance of the room. In one of those irregularly paneled affairs and two-thirds of the way down the ir regular gilt frame work incloses bev eled mirrors. So that the little back less seat is there for a double purpose —either the pretty occupant can face this screen of many mirrors when her hair is being done or she can use it as a background when visiting with her friends. The settle also is an ideal lounging place, as it is set fairly and squarely into the corner with cushions in as well as under it. Its high end and back become in this way part of the wall decoration, especially as they sup port a soft drapery of brocade which is hung from the corner. Near enough to it to be in convenient reach is the little triple French stand for books and papers. The dressing table Is ar ranged between the parted window curtains after the English fashion and has the low arm chair, also cushioned, in front of it. And there is another convenient little piece of furniture with small cabinet doors and drawers, which has a high swing oval mirror and below it little shelves rj d a glass top which is devoted to bottles and iars and the “CPnts and pomades which form the working part of dressing and beautifying.—Chicago Tribune. Nesselrode Pudding. This is an extra troublesome pudding o make, hut is very delicious. Line the bottom of an ice-cream mold with thin slices of sponge cake that have been soaked in sherry wine; put a layer of all sorts of candied and preserved fruits on this, cut up very fine; then more cake, md so on until the mold is nearly fun Make a custard of a quart of milk, sugar lo taste and six egg yolks, with a cake af grated chocolate; add two tabiespoon ruls dissolved gelatin boiling hnf strain and let cool; pour this over the lake and fruit in the mold, seal careful > and pack in Ice. When turned out it fiakes a beautiful dish. Serve with whipped cream sweetened and flavored ;o taste. ' Cream Cake. One cup of maple sugar, one egg ice-half teaspoonful saU, one 'nl^'da 4 fl°Ur’ 0ne teaaPoon ul soda. Add the soda to the cream «tft0hmS add *he •n, next the sugar and salt last tt,. lour. Bake in a quick oven
