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About The Loup City northwestern. (Loup City, Neb.) 189?-1917 | View Entire Issue (Nov. 7, 1907)
I BOB HAMPTON " I «f PLACER^ | By MAimu. PJUUUSHAUTHBK6fJ> ■ mMm&mm' 'Mmof/x/tim ■ 'tim/c/wm'fK « cgpvvrctfT wx by MjftrurtK sro:_ - i in iiiiiinwn i SYNOPSIS. A detachment of the Eighteenth In fantry from Fort Bethune trapped b> Indians in a narrow gorge. Among them is a stranger who introduces h:mself by tfie name of Hampton, also Gillis, the post trader, and his daughter. Gillis and a majority of the soldiers are killed Uur dtiring a three days’ siege. Hampton and «jbe girl only escape from the Indians. They fall exhausted on the plains. A company of the Seventh cavalry, L4eut. Brant In command, find them. CHAPTER IV.—Continued. * An if by some magic discipline the rude, effective litters were rapidly made ready, and the two seemingly Bfetees bodies gently lifted from off the ground and deposited carefully within. Down the long, brown slope their advanced slowly, a soldier grasp ins the rein and walking at each horse's head, the supporting blankets, securely fastened about the saddle pommels, swaying gently to the meas ured tread of the trained animals. Be neath the protecting shadows of the flrst group of cottonwoods, almost on the banks of the muddy Bear Water, flie little party let down their sense less burdens, and began once more their seemingly hopeless efforts at re suscitation. A fire was hastily kin dled from dried and broken branches, and broth was made, which was forced through teeth that had to be pried •pen. Water was used unsparingly, the soldiers working with feverish eagerness, inspired by the constant ad monitions of their officer, as well as their own curiosity to learn the facts hidden behind this tragedy. It was the dark eyes of the girl which opened first, instantly closing again as the glaring light swept into them. Then slowly, and with wonder ment. she gazed up into those strange, rough faces surrounding her, pausing in her first survey to rest her glance •n the sympathetic countenance of the young lieutenant, who held her half reclining upon his arm. “Hero,” he exclaimed, kindly, inter preting her glance as one of fear, “you are all right and perfectly safe now, with friends to care for you. Peters, bring another cup of that broth. Now, miss, just take a sup or two of this, and your strength will come back in a jiffy. What was tM trouble? Starv ing?" She did exactly as he bade her, every movement mechanical, her eyes fastened upon his face. “I—I reckon that was partly it,” she responded at last, her voice faint and husky. Then her glance wandered away, and finally rested upon another little kneeling group a few yards far ther down stream. A look of fresh in telligence swept into her face. “Is that him?” she questioned, trem blingly. “Is—is he dead?" “He wasn’t when we first got here, but mightly near gone, I’m afraid. I’ve been working over you ever since.” She shook herself free and sat weak ly up, her lips tight compressed, her eyes apparently blind to all save that motionless body she could barely dis tinguish. “Let me tell you, that fel low’s a man, just the same; the gamest, nerviest man I ever saw. I reckon he got hit, too, though he never said nothing about it. That’s bis style.” The deeply interested lieutenant re moved his watchful eyes from oft his charge just long enough to glance in quiringly across his shoulder. “Has the man any signs of a wound, ser geant?*’ he asked, loudly. “A mighty ugly slug in the shoulder, sir; has bled scandalous, bi\t I guess it’s the very luck that’^goin’ to save him; seems now to be cornin’ out all right.” The officer's brows knitted savagely. “It begins to look as if this might be some of our business. What hap pened? Indians?” - “Yes.” “How far away?” “I don’t know. They caught us in a canyon somewhere out yonder, may be three or four days ago; there was a lot killed, some of them soldiers. My dad was shot, and then that night he— he got me out up the rocks, and he— he was carrying me in his arms when j I—I fainted. I saw there was blood ^ on his shirt, and It was dripping down on the grass as he walked. That’s about all l know.” “Who is the man? What’s his name?” Ihe girl looked squarely into the lieutenant’s eyes, and, for some rea son which she could never clearly ex plain even to herself, lied calmly. “I don’t know; I never asked.” Sergeant Carson rose stiffly from his knees beside the extended figure and strode heavily across toward where they were sitting, lifting his hand in soldierly sglute, his heels clicking as he brought them sharply together in military precision. “The fellow is getting his eyes open, sir,” he reported, “and is breathing more regular, thirty weak yit, but he’ll come round in time.” He stared curiously down at the girl now sitting up unsupported, while a sudden look of surprised recognition swept across his face. , “Great guns!” he exclaimed, eagerly, “but I know yon. You’re old man Gll 11s* gal from Betbune, ain’t ye?” “Yes,” sbe acknowledged simply, "but he’s dead.” . "Never mind, little girl,” the lieu tenant said, with boyish sympathy. “I knew Gillls, and, now the sergeant has spoken, I remember you quite well. \ Thought all the time your face wee fa miliar, hut couldn’t quite decide where , I had seen you before. So poor old OllUg has ■one, and you stre left'ill alone in the world! Well, he vm an eld . soldier, could not have hoped to Xv» much longer anyway, and would father go Igbtiug at the end. Wen take you back with us to Bethune, and tho ladies of the garrison will look after you.” The recumbent figure lying a few yards away half lifted itself upon one elbow, and Hampton’s face, white and haggard, stared uncertainly across the open space. For an instant his gaze dwelt upon the crossed sabers shield ing the gilded “7" on the front of the lieutenant’s scouting hat, then settled Upon the face of the girl. With one hand pressed against the grass he pushed himself slowly up until he sat fronting them, his teeth clinched tight, his gray eyes gleaming feverishly in their sunken sockets. “I’ll be damned if you will!” he said, hoarsely. “She’s my girl now.” CHAPTER V. A Now Proposition. To one in the least Inclined toward fastidiousness, the Miners’ Home at Glencald would scarcely appeal as a desirable place for long-continued res idence. But such a one would have had small choice in the matter, as it chanced to t>e the only hotel there. The Miners’ Home was unquestionably unique as regards architectural de tails, having been constructed by sec tions, in accordance with the rapid development of the camp, and enjoyed the further distinction—there being only two others equally stylish in town—of being built of sawn plank, although, greatly to the regret of its unfortunate occupants, lack of season ing had resulted in wide cracks in both walls and stairway, while strict "Now Miss, Just Take a Sip of This.” privacy within the chambers was long ago a mere reminiscence. Without the Miners’ Home put up a good front, —and was In reality the most preten tious structure gracing the single clut tered street of Glencald. Directly across the street, its front a perfect blaze of glass, stood invitingly the Occidental saloon, but the Widow Guf fy, who operated the Miners’ Home with a strong hand, possessed an an tipathy to strong liquor, which suc cessfully kept all suspicion of intoxi cating drink absent from those sacred ly guarded precincts, except as her transient guests imported it internally. Mr. Hampton during the course of his somewhat erratic career had pre viously passed several eventful weeks in Glencaid. He was neither unknown nor unappreciated at the Miners' Home, and having on previous occa sions established his reputation as a spender, experienced little difficulty now in procuring promptly the very best accommodation which the house afforded. That this arrangement was accomplished somewhat to the present discomfort of two vociferous eastern tourists did not greatly interfere with his pleashrable interest in the situa tion. “Send those two fellows in here to argue it out,” he said, languidly, after listening disgustedly to their loud la mentations in the hallway, and ad dressing his remarks to Mrs. Guffy, who had glanced into the room to be again assured regarding his comfort, and to express her deep regret over the unseemly racket. “The girl has fallen asleep, anct I'm getting tired of hearing so much noise.” "No, be hlvings, an’ ye don't do nuthin’ of thet sort. Bob,” returned the widow, good-naturedly, busying her self with a dust-rag. “ThiB is me own house, an’ Oi’ve tended ter the loikea of them sort er fullers afore. There’ll be no more bother this toime. Be soides, it’s a pacetul house Oi’m run-! nia’, an’ Oi know ye’r way of sittling them things. It’s too strenurous ye are, Misther Hampton. And what did ye do wid the young lady, Oi make bould to askr* Hampton careltosly waved Us hand i toward the rear room, the door or which stood ajar, and ble* a thick I Cloud of smoke into the air, Ida eyes continuing to gane dreamily through to know a Brant in the Seventh, but he was much older; it was not this man.” She answered something, lingering for a moment at the door, but he made no response, and she passed out si lently, leaving him staring moodily through the open window, his eyes ap pearing glazed and sightless. An hour later he was still sitting on the hard chair by the window, a cigar between his teeth, thinking. The low ering sun was pouring a perfect flood of gold across the rag carpet, but he remained utterly unconscious as to aught save the gloomy trend of his own awakened memories. Some one rapped upon the outer door. “Come in," he exclaimed, carelessly, and barely glancing up. “Well, what is it this time, Mrs. Gufty?” The landlady had never before seen this usually happy guest in his pres ent mood, and she watched him cu riously. \ “A man wants ter see ye,” she an nounced, shortly, her hand on the knob. Loneliness of Great City. No Interested Friende to Enter Into Joys and Sorrows. If you lire in a large city you are lost. You are swallowed up hy the ocean of people around you. You go down into the deep and that’s the last of you, except perhaps an occa sional bubble that may come to the surface near where you were last seen, says the Fremont (O.) Post. There are so many people who can’t escape drowning. Ton can’t make friendships as you do in a smaller place, where the individual isn’t en tirely effaced by the mass. Society is not what it i« in the smaller place, where the humhn element enters in altogether. In the larger place your comings and goings are not noted by year friends sven, and never by the newspapers, ualsss yon ire one of the ' high financiers -• or.packing-house hunch. The births and weddings in your family are of no more intampt outside yaw own flat than are dm wreaths of smoke curling up Into the empyrean; no merry crowd of in terested neighbors with their warm congratulations. The deaths bring lit tle sympathy from the rumbling, rat tling world outside; no sorrowing ac quaintances who have stood by you through the long sickness; there is little or none of that evidence of lov ing kindness that comes from neigh bors and real friends, in a small city or town, where the dollar mark is not written so large and so indelibly on everything. It is paradoxical law that where there are so many people there are fewer friends, and when you di minish the number to a frontier com munity where neighbors are miles apart your friends are ready to ♦»>» their lives in their hands tor yon. ___«_ Had Origin In Icebergs, The origin of the Great Banks of htaponadlaad tc said to have bee* in the boulders carried down by iee betgi. The bank la tM tottas Joag -***"!*.■ the open window toward the distant hills. “Who’s running the game over at the Occidental?” he asked, profession ally. “Red Slavin, bad cess to him!” and her eyes regarded her questioner with renewed anxiety. “But sure now, Bob, ye mustn’t think of playin’ yit awhoile. Yer narvea are in no fit shape, an’ won’t be fer a wake yit.” * He made no direct reply, and she hung about, flapping the dust-rag un easily. “An’ what did ye mane ter be doin’ wid the young gyurl?” she questioned at last, in womanly curiosity. Hampton wheeled About on the hard chair, and regarded her quizzing ly. “Mrs. Guffy,” he said, slowly, “you’ve been a mother to me, and it would certainly be unkind not to give you a straight tip. Do? Why, take care of her, of course. What else would you expect of one possessing my kindly disposition and well-known motives of philanthropy? Can it be that I have resided with you, off and on, for ten years past without your ever realizing the fond yearnings of my heart? Mrs. Guffy, I shall make her the heiress to my millions; I shall marry her off to some eastern nabob, and thus attain to that high position in society I am so well fitted to adorn —sure, and what else were you ex pecting, Mrs. Guffy?" “A loikely story,” with a sniff of dis belief. “They tell me she’s old Gillis’ daughter over to Bethune.” “They tell you, do they?” a sudden gleam of anger darkening his gray eyes. “Who tell you?” “Sure, Bob, an’ thet's nuthin’ ter git mad about, so fur as I kin see. The story is in iverybody's mouth. It wus thim sojers what brought ye in thet tould most ov«it, but the lieutenant,— Brant of the Seventh cavalry, no less, —who took dinner here afore he wint back after the dead bodies, give me her name.” “Brant of the Seventh?” He faced her fairly now, his face again haggard and gray, all the slight gleam of fun gone out of it. “Was that the lad's name?” “Sure, and didn’t ye know him?” “No; I noticed the ‘7’ on his hat, of course, but never asked any questions, for his face was strange. I didn't know. The name, when you just spoke it, struck me rather queer. I—I used “Ob, I’m in no shape for play to night; go back and. tell him so.” “Sure, an’ it’s aisy ’nough ter see thet wid half an eye. But this un isn’t thet koind of a man, an’ he’s so moighty perlite about it. Oi list cudn’t sind the loikes of him away. It’s ‘Missus GufTy, me dear madam, wud ye be koind enough to convey me com pliments to Mlsther Robert Hampton, and requist him to grant me a few minutes of his tolme on an important matter?’ Sure, an* what do ye think of thet?” “Huh! one of those fellows who had these rooms?” and Hampton rose to his feet with animation. The landlady lowered her voice to an almost inaudible whisper. “It’s the Rev. Howard Wynkoop,” she announced, impressively, dwelling upon the name. “The Rev. Howard Wynkoop, the Prasbytarian missionary —wouldn’t thet cork ye?” It evidently did, for Mr. Hampton stared at her for fully a minute in an amazement too profound for fit ex pression in words. Then he swal lowed something in his throat. “Show the gentleman up,” he said, shortly, and sat down to wait The Rev. Howard Wynkoop was neither giant nor dwarf, but the very fortunate possessor of a countenance which at once awakened confidence in his character. He entered the room quietly, rather dreading this interview with one of Mr. Hampton's well-known proclivities, yet in this case feeling abundantly fortified in the righteous ness of his cause. His brown eyes met the inquisitive gray ones frankly, and Hampton waved him silently to ward a vacant chair. Our lines of labor in this vineyard being iso entirely opposite,” the latter said, coldly, but with intended polite ness, “the honor of your unexpected call quite overwhelms me. I shall have to trouble you to speak somewhat softly in explanation of your present mission, so as not to disturb a young girl who chances to be sleeping in the room beyond.” “It was principally upon her account I ventured to call,” Wynkoop ex plained in sudden confidence. “Might I see her?” Hampton’s watchful eyes swept the other’s face suspiciously, and his hands clinched. “Relative?” he asked gravely. The preacher shook his head. “Friend of the family, perhaps?” “No, Mr. Hampton. My purpose in coming here is perfectly proper, yet the request was not advanced as a right, but merely as a special priv ilege.” A moment Hampton hesitated; then he arose and quietly crossed the room, holding open the door. Without a word being spoken the minister fol lowed, and stood beside him. For several minutes the eyes of both men rested upon the girl’s sleeping form and upturned face. Then Wynkoop drew silently back, and Hampton closed the door noiselessly. “Well,” he said, inquiringly, “what does all this mean?” “Let us sit down again,” said the minister, “and I will try to make my purpose sufficiently clear. I am not here to mince words, nor do I believe you to be the kind of a man who would respect me if I did. I may say some thing that will not sound pleasant, but in the cause of my Master I cannot hesitate. You are an older man than I, Mr. Hampton; your experience in life has doubtless been much broader than mine, and it may even be that in point of education you are likewise my superior. Nevertheless, as the only minister of the gospel residing in this community it is beyond question my plain duty to speak a few words to you in behalf of this young lady, and her probable future. I trust not to be offensive, yet cannot shirk the require ments of my sacred office." The speaker paused, somewhat dis concerted perhaps by tfie hardening of the lines in Hampton’s face. “Go on,” commanded Hampton, tersely, “only let the preacher part slide, and say just what you have to say as man to man.” “I prefer to do so,” he continued. "It will render my unpleasant task much easier, and yield us both a more direct road to travel. I have been laboring on this field for nearly three years. When I first came here you were pointed out to me as a most dan gerous man, and ever since then I have constantly been regaled by the stories of your exploits. I have known you merely through such unfriendly reports, and came here strongly preju diced against you as a representative of every evil I war against. We have never met before, because there seemed to be nothing in common be tween us; because I had been led to suppose you to be an entirely different man from what I now believe you are.” Hampton stirred uneasily in his chair. “Shall I paint in exceedingly plain words the picture given me of you?” (TO BE CONTINUED.) Long Record of Usefulness. After 39 years of faithful and effi cient service as president of the Young Men’s Christian union, of Boston, Wil liam H. Baldwin has resigned the of fice on account of advanced age. i FOR THE DESSERT FINISHING TOUCHE8 TO END THE DINNER. German Apple Cake Can Always Be Counted On—Directions for Serv ing Junket—Making Pies With Sour Cream. German apple cake makes a good dessert now. Without any sprinkling of currants it is quite as attractive. Serve best tot* cinnamon bun. Use either cream or hard sauce with it, or none, at all. Cream cheese accords with it. Junket may not be turned out in shape. It must be set in cups in which it is to be served, or else helped from one large dish with a spoon. It is nice plain, or with cream. If desired more elaborate, then make it in indi vidual cups of pretty glass or china, and at the last place a little mound of whipped cream upon each, surmount ed by a cherry or piece of Jelly of a bright color. Junket with ginger bread makes a good home dessert. Those who like nutmeg—and it is recommended for some invalids—use freshly grated nut meg on it. Sour cream may be used for pies —just sour cream, not thick clabber, is meant. The clove used for spicing it makes it unlike cheesecake pie. For a cupful of the sour cream allow the beaten yolks of four eggs, a cupful of sugar and one cupful of chopped seeded raisins and a half teaspoonful of ground cloves. Cook this like a custard over water until thickened. Have a freshly lower shell of crust baked to receive it, and make a mer ingue from the whites of four eggs and a little sugar. Brown in the oven very lightly as usual. Instead of try ing to see how smooth the meringue can be made, leave it tossed into hill ocks, or drawn around in swirling lines, more or less parallel with the crust edge. This crust should be in dented and rather high, to support the filling and meringue. Pumpkin Fruit Basket. Cut a good sized pumpkin in the form of a basket, with a handle. Re move the contents and line with white tissue paper. Fill with yellow fruits —oranges, apples, bananas and grapes—letting the grapes fall grace fully over the side. Tie a huge bow of yellow tarlton ribbon (the kind used by the florists) on the handle. Place on a doily in the center of the table. For each guest make a pumpkin blossom. Buy paper cases at the con fectioners and cut petals from pump kin colored tissue paper, crinkle with a sharp knife. Begin at the top. paste four rows around the outside and green at the bottom. Place be side each place, to befilled with salt ed nuts or ice cream. Oyster Soup. .One-half gallon of water and one quart of oysters will make three quarts of soup. Put cold water in the soup kettle, season with salt and serve when the water comes to a boil. If de sired rich add a pint of milk and as soon as boiling point is reached turn In the oysters. When it boils up once serve. Do not let boil after the oy sters are in as it makes them tough, season with pepper. For an invalid, when but little nourishment can be taken at a time, use milk, a tiny bit of butter, salt and pepper to taste. Bring the milk quickly to boiling point, turn in the oysters, cover closely, place over a brisk fire and as soon as the oysters raise to the top serve at once with dry toast. ~ 1 " ■ ■ • Blue Point Rolls. Cut small, shapely, thin slices of cold rare beef and spread them spar ingly with mixed mustard. Cover each one with a similarly shaped, transpar* ently thin slice of bacon and finish with a plunlp oyster, lightly dusted with salt and pepper. Roll and fasten with a tiny skewer; dip in melted but ter, arrange on a buttered broiler and grill over a slow, clear fire until the bacon and oysters are cooked. Turn the rolls often, every time dipping them in melted butter. Serve with brown butter to which lemon juice is added, one teaspoonful of juiae to four of melted butter. Sea Foam Fudge. Two cups ol light brown sugar, one cup of water, the white of one egg, flavoring to taste. Boil the sugar and water until it will mold, but not until it is brittle and yet not as soft as for ordinary fudge. Have the white of an egg beaten stiff and pour in the syrup slowly, beating constant ly. with a patent egg beater. Drop on pans from the point of a spoon, giving a poited appearance to the top of each of the candies. Scotch Apple Tart. Peel and core a half dozen tart apples and place in a crock in a slow oven, adding neither water nor sugar. When tender mix in Sultana raisins, allowing a quarter of a pound to each pound of apples. Turn Into a deep baking dish, sprinkle with sugar and grated lemon; cover with a top crust, pricking well, to allow for the escape of steam, and bake in a quick oven. Serve with milk. Cleaning Bran. To clean chased brass trays wash the tray with soap and hot water and dry It thoroughly. Cut a lemon In half and with it rub the brass till clean. Then rinse in warm water, dry and polish with a wash-leather. The same treatment is right for brasB bowls and other ornaments which are now so popular with artistic folk. Onion 8ouffle. Chop two large onions Into fine pieces and soak one-half cup bread crumbs In one-half cn>- -ilk. Mix the two and beat well, i tf* stir In the yolk of an egg, beaten .cry light, and the Whites of two eggs beaten to a ■tiff froth. Put this mixture into a 'deep dish, grate cheese over the top and bake for twenty minutes. Carrot-'Frfttera. Meat two smaU belled carrots to~a B«lp. Add four WSU beaten eggs, stir la half a cup of flour. moisten with a jni. mra. rat to tra. vrararawtutUM f———— . ‘ AnSiTING GOWN \mC£FUL EMPIRE GOWN '*v*iSfcA. /I PRETTY NEW DESIGN Fashion absolutely defies economy even in matters sartorial, and just as we have grown used to short sleeves and have had our coats cut off to the elbow, the fickle jade declares that we shall revert once more to long sleeves. Many a dinner-dress, for in stance, with a low decolletage shows the sleeve worn over the wrist. Tak ing it all round, especially in tailor mades, I consider the long sleeve is a boon to the generality of womankind. To begin with, it is practical, and nothing was more incongruous for or dinary everyday use than a sleeve which left exposed half a bare arm! When a blue serge frock was finished just above the elbow and the glove was not long enough, it did not seem to me to savor of good style, to say the least of it, for traveling, or indeed for any occasion on which we wear the tailor-made. Among the definite fashions for the fall and winter season are longer sleeves and shorter skirts, with coats tending towards greater length* In graceful garments, and especially in furs, the kimono sleeve is giving place to what is known as the “bat” sleeve, consisting of a wing-like drapery which in reality is not a sleeve at all but forms a cope effect. At the same time, the kimono has by no means died out, but is produced in other forms and is relegated to the superior fabrics rather than to the cheaper ones. I must say I should like to hedge a little in the matter of sleeves. Although a great many long, tight, mitten sleeves will be worn there are some people they do not suit, and these will try to remain faithful to the puffs. But the puff cannot be said to be a future vogue. The Empire puff is seldom seen, but rather popular is a little plain, tight sleeve consisting of open-work lace and trellis-work of jet or embroidery. Further pic turesqueness is attained by wing-like draperies at the top of the arm weight ed by a fringe—for, by the way, fringes of every fcind are a feature which many dressmakers will try to revive. There is some sense in the fringe, and tunic, polonaise, and prin cess effects are infinitely improved when weighted with heavy silk or chenille fringes. Though there is no very startling change to chronicle in the general fashioning of furs this season, there are any number of distinctive details which will proclaim the wearer of the really up-to-date coat or wrap. The kimono continues to exercise on furs the all-powerful influence which it first displayed on cloths and satins, and it certainly makes for grace of outline, as well as comfort, and as a carriage or theater wrap finds practically no rival. Its wide sleeves also figure on the sacque coatees which are to be very much worn, though, once again, fashion has been most thoughtful of Old-school Farmers. “It is astonishing what faith the old school farmer.used to put in his al manac," said a farmer of the new school, a graduate of an agricultural college. “My father was an old-school farm er, and in June he would consult his almanac to see if we were going to have a clear Christmas. What though the almanac usually went back on him? Sometimes its predictions were true, and one accurate prophecy counterbalanced, in my father’s mind, 50 miscues. “Once I crossed the ocean with the old man. We sat at the captain’s ta ble, and the first night out my father, laying down his spoon, said anxiously: “‘Captain, her ye got an almanac on board?* "‘No,’ the captain answered. "The old man frowned and shook his head. . " ‘Then, by gosh,* he said, ‘we’ll Jest hee to take the weather as she comes.' ** . 1 * •> * -- )--i •• NsterAmod, Ton are a man, remember, not a The Seesaw of Living. The first thought of almost every wage earner, overtaken by his perplex ity, is that somehow his income must be increased to meet the enhanced cost of living. But after employes have been painfully convinced, and after successive ranks ttf workers, in all callings, have been granted an In crease of pay computed to offset the general increased level in the prices of the necessaries of life, it is just as . like as not that the old problem stilt remains to be faced. For when all employers have to pay high wages, they necessarily, in most cases ad vance the price of product or service, so that the increased wage buys no more than the old one. How the Rattles Are Worn. The rattles lie edgewise. It is evi dent that they muBt do so, inasmuch as they ate but continuations of the backbone. The snake carles the rat tles on the ground except when he raisee them to sound hlr warning. This will be evidenced by the fact that in every snake m killed the rattles are werp $rot|jpb'on tht nadir nidi.—Forest n iinr ftftfcaOV her followers’ varying figures and re quirements, and so includes in her list for the season a smartly simple and short basqued coat, which fits closely at the back and has straight, double breasted fronts and long sleeves. And now a word about the dresses displayed in our illustrations. The tailor-made shown in our larger pic ture is made of reseda green cloth, and is trimmed with braid in a darker shade, tiny brass buttons being used most effectively as a final trimming. The blouse is of coarse white lace, while the hat is of white crinoline with dark green and white striped ribbon. The modified Empire styld will still be very much in evidence in evening gowns, and I have seen some charm ingly pretty bodices with just that rounded fullness of effect which is'so much desired by the fair wearer. One new model, in white Oriental satin, Is gathered below a little chemisette of chiffon and has all its soft fold's en circled by crossed bands of palest green satin, set with clusters and trails of wee pink chiffon roses and green silken leaves, a border of tho embroidered flowers being the , only trimming for the plain, gracefully hanging skirt. The design shown la simple and yet beautiful. The waist band can be either in souple satin or silver and pink tissue, the ends crossed in front and fastening with tiny flow er-like rosettes. This waistband cgn be lowered to the waist-line in front if one chooses and still keep the up ward Empire line at the back. • The hat pictured for you this week . is strikingly smart, and is of a fine . quality of felt with a mushroom brim raised on a bandeau, and its attrac tiveness is enhanced by the fact that the crown is a very becoming large shape trimmed with full bows of silk glace. The coat and skirt costume dis played in our single column illustra tion shows an effective style for those who cannot wear those very fashion able long coats because of lack of stature. Fashion is delightfully ac commodating this season, and every one’s figure can be suited if a little discretion is used. The striped mate rial will also tend to give you the ef fect of an extra inch or so, and as to j colors, purple or green and black or dark blue and brown would be both smart and serviceable, the color of the stripe being repeated in the vel vet of collar and cuffs. Horse as Executioner. A farmer named Courtois, whose en gagement was broken off recently, hanged himself from his horse’s neck. He was working the plow, and he tied the reins of one of the horses round his neck. The horse, tossing his head, broke his master’s neck.—Paris Dis patch in London Express.