(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
