Despite the popular notion concerning
the runaway negro, be never got very
far from civilization in his wanderings.
The swamp was to him merely a re
treat His smokehouse was elsewhere.
When Uau glided away, leaving the
major pleasantly engaged, he followed
hog paths with unerring instinct and
recalled landmarks with surprising ac
curacy. But where he was going and
what for are mutters that can wait
The major must not be left alone.
isara had not lieen long gone before
the fisherman began to suffer from the
perversity of the piscatorial god. The
bream and redbelly ceased to bite. The
colony had been exhausted or driven
away, and in its place settled a tribe of
shining cats. These began to give the
major occupation His float would go
nnder handsomely. There would be a
strong pnli, and resisting steadily a cat
fish would break into view.
The major stood this persecution, it
may be, for 15 minutes, then the pa
tience of the fisherman was exhausted
As the hour wore away, 1 regret to say
that the swearing liecame almost con
tinuous. and the major reached what
is generally termed a "state of mind. "
Isaiu was approaching the camp when
the language of the fisher attracted his
attention.
Oomhoo," ba said, stopping to lis
ten. -' Sum 'n dun gone wron wid Mass
Craffud."
Creeping to the edge of the brake, be
beheld bis companion engaged in his
nnequal conflict with the fate that at
times overtakes all fishers. Isam
dncked back and held bis sides.
' Ef dere’s anyt’n go’n ter upsot dat
kind er man quick, bit’s cats. Des
liss'n now!”
The negro peeped out again. The
major was lashing the water with an
unfortunate victim, then he saw the
irate fisherman drop a huge cat upon
the bank and with the paddle dash him
to pieces, and again grind another be
neath his heel and end by kicking the
remains far out into the stream.
Isam reveled in this display of passion
until wearied out and then prepared to
make his presence known. Going back
a hundred yards into the canebrake, lie
shouldered his well stuffed sack and
lifted his voice in song:
“Snm folks say nigg'r won’ steal:
i caught one in my co’nfieL"
He was cheerfully giving expression
to this suggestive refrain when he
broke in upon the scene and pretended
to stumble over a gasping cat Down
came his bag.
’ Dere, now, ef 1 cood pick’d de ve’y
fish J wanted fnr ter mek dat chowd’r,
hit ’nd er been dis same cat. ” Isam’s
teeth shone, and his eyes glistened. As
he looked about and saw the othfer un
welcome captives he threw np his
bands.
Where yon catch ’in. Mass’ Craf
fud?”
‘Right here." said the maj'or, re
garding him suspiciously, “and I have
n't been catching anything else for an
bonr."
'Den don’ yer stop now. You des
go rite ’long ketchin ’em, en we go’n
ter hav’ er chowd’r fnm 'way back.
’Spec’ we’ll want ’bout six more big
ones. How long es hit bin sence yon
had a catfish chowd’r. Mass’ Craffud?”
The major’s jiassion was vanishing.
'About 20 years, 1 reckon, Isam.”
'Well, den, hit ain' go’n ter be 20
years fo’ you git emuther. I’m go’n
ter git ev’n wi’ dese hyah big moufs en
boat er minit. Lor, Lor! Es I waz
cnmmin long back I kep a-sayin, ‘Now
Mass Craffud ain’ go’n ter ketch nuthin
but brim er yallerbelly wat ain’ good
fer chowd’r meat, en all dis co’n en yin
guns gotter be eat des dry so, en, bless
goodness! hyah's de ctowd’r dun haf
made en lyin reddy. ” And Isam began
to shake his own prizes from the bag.
Where did youget that corn ?" The
major fixed his eye sternly upon the non
chalant babbler.
Dis co’n,” said Isam, shucking an
ear, "es w’at dey calls ‘vol’nterry
co n Hit es co’n w’at cum up fum
las year seed w’at de river en de hog
scatter. En dese yinguns es uv de wile
kine w’at es always up en er-doin.”
The major made no reply, but fixing a
new fiathead on his hook cast it far into
tbe stream.
Above » Mazing fire Isam soon had
his kettle swinging, and within ita
depths sputtered great chunks of fish as
they rose and sank in a lake of green
corn and onions With the earnestness
of a wizard preparing his strange con
Preparing the chmixlcr.
cnrtions he bung over the boiling mix
ture. adding here a pinch of pepper and
there a dash of salt. As he stirred the
savory mess he sang a cheerful planta
tion ditty The dusk of evening had
fallen, and the red light of the flames
brought out his fignre in bold relief.
He seemed a veritable genius of the
awamp. and lured from his sport by the
cheerfu 1 picture and the odor of the meal
the major cast his line down and strode
into the lighted circle.
CHAPTER V.
To other pens must be left the record
of the rnnaways’ everyday life. These
pages would not hold the true chronicle
of this novel expedition Here only in
space enough to deal with the promt
nent features and string them upon a
particolored thread. Day after day the
fishermen plie.l their rods. Day uftei
day the kettle, and the skillet, and the
coals gave forth their dainties Fish
fr:e9 decked the table one day. a split
rabbit, snared in the canebrake, broiled
to a turn, served for the next. even a ten
der shout yielded up his innocent young
I life, and chowders came thick and last
But Isam was no longer the chief lac
torin the daily sins committed. Pain
ful as the truth may seem, it must be
told. The portly major became ac
cessory before the fact as well as after
And worse, he became actively parti
ceps criminis He learned to creep in
to the spreading field of "voluntary
corn”—which, by the way. invaded the
swamp lands and rose in eolnuins of
surprising regularity—and to load a bag
with the juicy ears, tie renewed ms
early skill and crawled behind snake
fences to abstract dew christened water
melons. In short, he gave way to sav
agery: for the time being civilization
knew him not
No especial time for breaking camp
bad been Ret. but the time was ap
proaching, and the signs were evident
The whisky had long since vanished
and the tobacco was threatening to fol
low the whisky, when an event occurred
which left a tradition that old folks in
middle Georgia yet tell with tear dim
med eyes ami straining sides
The worthy pair had been foraging
for dinner and were returning heavily
laden. The major bore a sack of corn
and lsam led the way with three water
melons Unless the reader has attempt
ed to carry three watermelons, he will
never know the labor that lsam had 1111
posed npon himself. The two had just
reached the edge of the canebrake, tie
yond which lay the camp, and were en
tering the narrow path when a niagni
fieent buck came sweeping through and
collided with lsam with snch force and
suddenness as to crush and spatter his
watermelons into a pitiful ruin and
throw the negro violently to the
ground. Instantly the frightened man
seized the threatening antlers and held
on, yelling lustily for help The deer
made several ineffectual efforts to free
himself, during which he dragged the
negro right and left without difficulty
but finding escape impossible turned
fiercely npon his unwilling captor and
tried to drive the terrible horns through
his writhing body.
"O Lor, O Lor!” screamed lsam
“O Lor, Mass' Craffud, cum bolp me
tu’n disbnck loos' '
The laugh died away from Major
Worthington's lips. None knew better
than he the danger into which lsam had
plunged. Not a stick, brush, stone or
weapon of any description was at hand
except his small pocketknife. Hastily
opening that, he rushed upon the deer
Isam’s eyes were bursting from then
sockets and appealed piteously for the
help his stentorian voice was franticaJ
ly imploring until the woods rang with
his agony. Major Worthington caught
the nearest antler with his left hand
and made a fierce lunge at the animal’s
throat. But the knife's point was miss
ing, and only a trifling wound was in
flicted. The next instant the deer met
the new attack with a rush that carried
lsam with it and thrust the major to
the ground, the knife falling out of
reach. Seeing this, the negro let go
his hold, rolled out of the way, and with
a mighty effort literally ran upon the
top of a branching haw bush, where he
lay spread out like a bat aud moaniug
piteously:
“Stick ter ’irn. Mass’ Craffud, stick
ter’iml Wo’, deer: wo’, deer! Stick
ter ’im. Mass’ Craffud!”
And the major stuck. Retaining Ins
presence of mind, he threw his I fi arm |
over the deer's neck, and st;ii holding j
with his right the antler looked about
for lsam, who had so mysteriously dis
appeared. Something like the hold he
had had more than once in boyhood and
served him well in school combats. Bn!
he had never tried to hold a full grown
buck, and so he somewhat anxiously
searched tho scene for the valiant negro.
The first words he heard distinctly
were:
"Stick ter im. Mass’ Craffnd. stick
ter ’im! Hit's better fur one ter die
den bofe! Hole im. Mass' Craffnd.
hateful! Wo', deer; wo’, deer! Stick
ter’im. Mass’ Craffnd 1 Steddy'. Look
out fur es ho'n. Wo', deer! Steddy
Mass’ Craffnd!’
By this time the struggles of the beast
had again ceased, and wearied from his
double encounter he stood with his head
pulled down to the ground half astride
the desjierate mail, who was holding on
for life. Whether Major Worthington
was frightened or not it is hard to say,
probably be was. but there was no doubt
about bis being angry when he saw Is am
spread out in the haw bush and heard
his addiess. His face was livid with
rage, and foam and sweat mingled up
on it As soon as he caught his breath
he burst forth with:
" You infernal black rascal, why don’t
you come—down out of that—bush anil
help—me:' Isam's face was pitiful in
its expression His teeth chattered, anil
he fairly shook the Imsh with trembling
' Don', Mass ’ Craffnd. don'. Yon aiu
got no time ter cuss now Lif ’ up yo
voice en pray 1 Lor. Lor, ef ev'r man
had er call ter pray, yon dnn got it
now."
For one instant it looked asif the ma
jor would abandon his attempt to hold
the deer and turn his attention to the
bush, bnt be did not have an oppor
tunity to carry out such a resolution.
Revived by his moment’s rest, the buck
made another effort for freedom and re
venge. He dragged his corpulent cap
tor in a circle, he rolled him on the
sod, he fell over him, pounded him and
stamped, bnt without relief. The des
perate man clung to his hold with a
grip that could not be broken. 11 wn
the grip of death. Indeed it was now
a question of life or death.
Wearied down at last, the deer gave
himself and victim another breathing
spell, and the major continued
I “If ever—1 get loose from this—biuto
j w.i i-ir :nr-.! scoiudret—runot leave
a—whole bone in your body!"
'Don suy dat, Mass’ Craffud. don’t
You mustn't let de sun go down on
yo wrafl <> Lor!" he continued, get
ting on his all fours and as near a
reverent posture as the circumstances
would admit of. "don you mine nuth'n
he es er-sayin now, cos he ain' 'spon
s’bl Lor, ef de ties' angel you got
wuz down dere in his tin en er fool deer
wuz er-straddl'n 'im. dey ain no tell'n
w 'at <1 hupp u er w at sorter langwiJge
he'd let loos Wo', deer; wo', deerl
Stick ter ’im. Mass’ Craffud, stick ter
’imI Steddy. deerl Steddy. Mass’Craf
fud!"
The major got another resting spell
By this time his breath was almost
gone, and his anger had given way to
unmistakable apprehension lie real
“Stick ter 'im, Maas’ Craffurd!"
ized that he was in a most desperate
plight, and that the only hope of rescue
lay in the frightened negro up in the
haw bush. He changed his tactics
when the deer rested again.
'lsam, he said gently.
‘ Yes. honey.
‘lsam, come and help me, old fel
low. ’
'Good Gawd, Mass' Craffud," said
the negro earnestly, dere am' nothin
1 woodn do fur you, but hit's better
fur one ter die 'n two. Hit’s a long
sight better.'
"But there is no danger, lsam, none
whatever Just you come down and
with your knife hamstring the brute.
I'll hold him."
No. sah; no, sah; no, sahl" said
lsam loudly and with growing earnest
ness 'No. sah. it won’ wukl No,
sahl You er in fur hit now. Mass’
Craffud, en et can't be bolped. Dere
ain nuthin kin save yer but de good
Lor. en he am go’n ter, less’n you ax
'im umblelike en er-b’liev’n en es
mussy. 1 prayed w’en 1 wuz down
dere. Mass' Craffud, dat 1 did, en look
w’at happ’n. Didn he sen’ you like
er aingil, en didn he git me up hyah
safe en wholesum ? Dat he did, en he
nev’r ’spec' dis nigg’r war go’n ter
fling ’essef und'r dat deer arter he trou
ble hisse’f to shove ’im up hyah. Stick
ter im. Mass' Craffud, stick ter im.
Wo, deer; wo, deerl Look out fur es
ho'n! Stick ter im. Mass’ Craffud!
Dere, now—tank de Lor!
Again the major got a breathing
spell. The deer in his struggles had
gotten under the haw bush, and the ma
jor renewed his earnest negotiations.
"lsam,” hesaid as soon as his condi
tion would allow of conversation, “if
you will get down — and cut this
brute’s legs—1 will give you your free
dom. ”
lsam s only -answer was a groan.
"And r>0 acres—of laud. ” Again that
pitiful moan.
“And a mule and a—year’s i ations. ’’
The major paused from force of cir
cumstances After awhile the answer
came:
“Mass' Craffud!”
•Well?"
You know dis nigg’r b en bard
work’ll en hones' eu lock after you en
yo’n all es life.”
"Yes, lsam,” said the major, "you
have been—a faithful, honest—nig
ger.” There was another pause. Per
haps this was too much for lsam. But
he continued after awhile:
"Well, lemme tell you, houev, dere
ain’ uuthin you got ’r kin git w’at’ll
temp’ dis nigg’r ter git down dere.
W'y," and his voice assumed a most
earnest and argumentative tone. “ ’deed
n hit 'd be ’sultin de Lor. Ain’
he dun got me up hyah out’n de waj*,
en don’ he ’spec’ me fur ter stay? You
reck’n he got nuth’n ’t all ter do but
keep pnttin lsam back up er tree? No
sah, he dun ’ten' ter me, en ef yo got
enny dif'culty down dere you en de deer
kiu fight it out. Hit’s my bizness des
ter keep er-prayin. Wo’, deer; wo’,
deer I Steddy, Mass’ Craffud! Dere,
now—t’ank de Lor!”
Again the major defeated the beast’s
struggles, and there came a truce. But
the man was well nigh exhausted and
saw that unless something was done in
his behalf he must soon yield up the
fight. Something like a spasm of fear
flashed over his face, and in the glance
he cast about him there was the one
panic stricken appeal that ali men yield
to at some time, it was hard to die
there by the terrible Imrus of the beast
astride him, whose eyes glared into his
and whose hot breath was in his face.
What a death!
But the next instant he was calm and
cautious. There came to his assistance
his fine knowledge of the negro charac
ter.
"lsam.” he said slowly and impres
sively. But lsam was praying. The
major could hardly trust his cars when
he heard the words.
“But, Lor, don let im perish fo
yo eyes. He’s b’eu er bad man. He
cuss 'n sware, ’n play keerds, 'n bet on
horse race, ’n drink whisky"
“lsam”
‘Eu he steal— goodness, he tek ter
steal'n like er duck ter water. Roast’n
vers, watermilluns. chick’n—nuthin too
bad fur ’iin”——
“lsam”
‘ ’Tain’ like er uigg'r stealin. Lor.
Dey dun know no better eu can' git
t’ings ennyerway. while be got money,
but don’ let ’im perish rite ’fo’ yo’
eyes Tek "im by de slack er es brich
e« en shek ’1m ov’r de flames, but don’
let ’im drap”
“Isam!”
The word came upward iu tones of
thunder. Even Isam was obliged to
regard it. Hedid so from force of hab
it.
“ Yessir.”
Then he Bobbed forth, "O Lordy,
Lordy, I t’ot wewuz dun home ag’in.”
“No, sir," said the major sternly,
“we are not at home, and I'll never get
there. I am gotng to die.”
Isam gave a yell that ought to have
been heard a mile away.
“Oh, don’ let ’im die. Skeer ’im,
skeer ’im. Lord, but don’ let ’im diet”
“Yes.” continued the major, “lam
going to die. but let tell you something,
Isam. 1 have been looking into this
beast’s eyes until 1 recognize him.”
A sound came from the haw bush like
the hiss of a snake, as the negro with
ashen face end beaded brow gasped out
an unintelligible word. The right
chord tad been touched at last. “You
rememoer Dr. Samf” Isatn’s only re
ply was a moan that betrayed an agony
too deep for expression. “Well, this is
Dr. Sam. He got loose th j other day
when the ping fell out, and he and 1
will never give you another hour of
peace as long as you live”
The sentence was never finished.
With a shriek that was blood curdling
in its intensity of fear and horror, the
negro came crashing down through the
bush with his hands full of leaves,
straight upon the deer.
This was the crisis.
The frightened animal made one des
perate plunge, taking the startled ma
jor by surprise, and the next instant
found himself free. He did not remain
upon the scene or he would have beheld
the terrified negro get upon his feet, run
round in a frenzy of terror and close
his last circle at the foot of the bush, up
which be scurried again like a squirrel,
old as he was. The major lay flat up
on his back, after trying in vain to rise.
Then the reaction came. He fixed
his eye upon the negro above and
laughed until the tears washed the dirt
from his face, and Isam. holding his
head up so that his vision could encom
pass the narrow horizon, said slowly
and impressively:
’Mass’ Graff ud, ef de Lord hadn’t
’sist’d on Isam cum’n down ter run dat
deer off, ’spec’ by dis time you’d been
er-flopp’n yo’ wings up yander, er else
sput’n on er grindi’on down yander.”
And from his elevated perch Isam indi
cated the two extremes of eternity with
an eloquent sweep of his hand.
But the major had small time for
laughter or recrimination. In the dis
tance there rang out faintly the full
mouthed cry of a hound. Isam heard
it. For him it was at once a welcome
and a stimulating sound. Gliding to
the ground, he helped the wearied ma
jor to his feet and started on the run
for the boat, crying:
“Run, Mass’ Craffud—wors’n deer’s
cummin. Hit’s dem folks w’at know
about dat corn en watermilluns, en yer
can’t ’splain nuthin ter er houn dog.”
Broken down as he was, the major
realized that there was wisdom in the
negro’s words and followed as best he
could. The camp traps were thrown
into the boat, and the little bark was
launched. A minute later the form of
a great, thirsty looking hound, the run
away’s betenoir, appeared on the scene.
But the hunters who came after found
naught beyond the signs of a camp, if
they found anything, and soon follow
ed the hound, which had regained the
trail of the buck and yelping passed
into the distance. The boat had long
since passed the bend.
How Isam ever settled his difficulty
needs no explanation. But it may in
terest the reader to know that one day
he bore a message and a check that set
tled the corn and melon debt, and they
tell it in middle Georgia that every year
thereafter, until the war cloud broke
over the land, whenever the catalpa
worm crept upon the leaf, two runaways
fled from Woodhaven and dwelt in the
swamps, "loos’ en free.”
THE END.
French Stilt Walkers.
The majority of the people in the
western portion of the French province
of Gascony walk on stilts. That is a
district known as the Landes, with a
sea line bounding the French side of
the bay cf Biscay and extending at its
greatest breadth about 60 miles back
into the country. The Landes form one
of the wildest and strangest parts of
France, and the inhabitants are fully
as strange and uncultivated as the black
pine forests, the dreary swamps and
the far spreading deserts of fine white
sand which they inhabit. Most of them
are shepherds, and they elevate them,
selves on stilts five feet high in order to
be above the marshes and the sand
blasts These stilt walkers present
strange and uncouth figures as they pro
gress over the wilderness of country in
attendance on their flocks, sometimes
at the rate of sis or seven miles an hour
They rest by the aid of a third wooden
support, pursuing meanwhile their ever
lasting occupation of knitting.
In appearance the Landes shepherd
looks like an uncouth mass of dirt}'
wool On his body he wears a fleece
like a rode paletot: his thighs and legs
on the outside are protected by greaves
of the same material and his feet in
cased in sabots and coarse woolen socks.
In some parts of Malaysia the natives
walk almost habitually on stilts. Na
ture aud necessity have brought about
this result, as excessive inundations of
river aud sea often submerge the whole
surface of the land in many places
An Artful Scheme.
'I'm not going to ask for money,
mom,'' said Rhodeside, "nor tor food,
though I’m faint with hunger, and 1
ain't eat anything for two days, but
for the sake of a poor man who's in
hard luck won’t you please, mum, al
low me the use of a piece of soap and a
towel for a few minutes?”
It was about an hour later that Rhode
side finished a sumptuous meal and set
forth with a 50 cent piece in his hand.
WOMAN’S WOULD.
FEMALE SUFFRAGE AS VIEWED BY
SOME NOTED CANADIAN DAMES.
Sow He Appreciate* It—A Sneer Keoented.
Practical Hint* In Economy—Hiding
Man Fashion—White Stocking*—Sillily
Starched Skirt*.
It is instructive to read the objec
tions to female suffrage made by Cana
dian women in our esteemed contempo
rary. The Coin du Feu of Montreal, for
the reason that they are just the kind
of objections to it that used to be made
in this country 20 or 80 years ago.
Mme. Chapleau says that women ought
to reign in the home, while men ought
to attend to the government. Mme.
Marchand says that women have not
the opportunity of studying complicated
political questions, and so must seek to
gain an influence like that of the women
of the gospels. Mme. Desjardins has
no other ambition than the happiness
of her family, and willingly leaves the
franchise to her husband. Mme. Dan
durand believes that women are most
free when the public business is trans
acted by men. Miss Cowan does not
desire that women shall have the privi
lege of voting, as even men abuse that
privilege. Other Canadians who \fere
interviewed on the subject by The Coin
du Fen said that women should keep
away from the noise of politics, and
that the family circle should be saved
from political pollution, and that wom
anly virtues would be lowered in poli
tics, and that the ideal of womanhood
is apart from politics, and that women
ought to be content with their lot ns
the angels of the home. Lady Aber
deen said that "in her capacity as wife
of the governor general of Canada” she
preferred to refrain from expressing any
opinion on the question.
Yes, these Canadian objections to
woman suffrage are just like the Amer
ican objections to it that used to be
urged years ago. All of them are very
familiar to everybody in this country
who has taken any interest in the de
bate on the subject. Yet the cause of
woman suffrage has advanced in many
of the states and has gained a com
plete victory in at least two of the pro
gressive states of the abounding west.
We are not aware that womanhood lias
ceased to flourish on account of that
success.—New York Sun.
Now He Appreciates It.
On a recent afternoon a young pian
ist, who is considered a musical genius
by his friends, was introduced to a
handsome woman by one of the teach
ers at Steinway hall. The teacher had to
leave the room for a time, and the lady
asked her new acquaintance if he would
not play something for her. The young
man sat down at the piano and played
several pieces. The lady listened with
a critical air, and when he had con
cluded. thanked him very heartily.
• ‘ N ow, ’’she added, ‘ ‘ won’t you please
play something of your own composi
tion?”
He complied, rendering a pretty song
which he had composed not long be
fore. The lady expressed herself very
much pleased again, and said:
"If you will transpose that, 1 will
sing it at my song recital in Boston.”
The young man bowed politely, but,
being unwilling to commit himself to
a comparative stranger, said nothing.
A silence ensued that would have been
embarrassing had it not been fortunate
ly interrupted by the return of the
teacher. The lady had some business
to transact with him, and the pianist
was relieved. When she turned to
leave, she shook hands with him heart
ily and again expressed her gratifica
tion at having heard him play. When
she was gone, the pianist turned to his
friend and asked carelessly:
‘Who is that lady?”
‘Why, 1 told yon. That is Mrs.
Story.” I
‘Yes, 1 know, but who is Mrs.
Story?”
'Good heavens, man! Don’t you
know that Emma Eames is Mrs. Story
in private life?”
The pianist now appreciates the com
pliments he received.—New York Let
ter.
A Sneer Resented.
What the writer evidently consider
ed a knockdown argument was publish
ed lately at the expense of women vot
ing when, as was sneeringly asserted,
more than one girl had been questioned
as to the term of office of a member of
the legislature, for instance, and could
not tell how long it lasted. The au
thor of this stinging satire seemed to
forget that there are women and women
as well as men and men. Moreover, it
is not so very strange that a question
which does not bear upon them, while
they are not voters, should be pushed
aside by other matters that do come in
contact with their daily lives.
One woman who has, from lifelong
connection with a newspaper office, be
come pretty well acquainted with poli
tic*. is astonished, on her part, by the
profound ignorance of the average man.
Yet she does not, on that account, be
lieve that none of them should be allow
ed to vote. Those of us who questioned
our brothers and husbands and lovers,
a few months ago. at the beginning of
the silver talk, as to what it all was
about, were not very greatly enlighten
ed. were we? The fact is that, outside
those whose bread and butter it is, and
outside the repeating a catchword 01
two in a wise way, there is not one man
—or woman—in a hundred who knows
what his or her party principles are
or should be. But this is of c< mree be
tween ns women!—New York .Mail ami
Express.
Practical Hiiitrt.
Many must practice economy every
day, but this year there is more urgent
need than ever. The simplest way to
make over a dress for house wear, if
you have any sort of a full skirt, is to
cut the basque off, allowing only an
inch or so below the waistline, and
gather tlie skirt to this. Hip oil nil
superfluous trimming, arrange the urck
surplice fashion with a bit of lace or
embroidery basted* i. and you will have
n neat dress. Anollu r way is to gather
a full width to the lo.'-k • i the ha quo,
cut the front yoke fashion and make a
full loose front which can be confined
by a ribbon. With most made overs
this will require piecing, hut if done
near the waistline the 11. mi will con
ceal it. A ruffle of ia '.cut mat! rial
will seem to lengthen the skirt, lloth
these can be worn without corsets, and
are very easy if there is any fullness in
the skirt.
When a liasque has done good serv
ice, lip it apart and make nil under
waist out of the lining. This will serve
to keep the underclothes dean while
doing housewoik. The lining of skirts
can be utilized by making into aprons.
They are n great saving, as they are
easily washed, require nostarching and
not much ironing. Stockings that are
past repair can be roughly sewed to
gether and make acceptable scrub
cloths. If you cannot use things your
self, do not keep them to look at, but
give them to some one less fortuuate.—
Minneapolis Housekeeper.
Hiding Mun Fashion.
The popularity of bicycle riding
among women has made it more possi
ble for women to accept the idea of rid
ing en cavalier, an idea which is being
put in actual practice in the west. In
other words, cross saddle riding with
divided skirts has gained a certain
ainonnt of recognition in a number of
localities. It has been found that la
dies look well, ride more safely and get
better exercise in the new way. Tho
practice of side saddle riding is attrib
uted to the vagary of a queen who was
too deformed to use tho cross saddle.
There has been a vague idea that any
other method would be injurious. As a
matter of fact, the practice of using the
side saddle lias been adopted because it
adapts itself to modern dress, and be
cause without a special dress no other
method would be suitable. Cut cross
saddle riding is tho safer way. it per
mits of a better and freer use of tho
limbs and makes the exercise more ef
fective. All this will not make women
adopt it, however. A large number of
lady riders take the exercise to avoid
the unpleasant effects of too much fat.
Side saddle riding does not make fat
women thin, however, but if anything
enlarges the hips. Cross saddle riding
is more effective, because a \vid< r range
of muscles can be used and harder rid
ing indulged in.—New York Medical
Record.
White Stocking**.
Next to the threatened return of the
crinoline, the revival which is making
the most sensation in fashionable circles
is the return of white stockings. For
months past there have been various
prophecies and not a few announce
ments of the coming of this revival.
But for various reasons, and possibly
the good sense of women, with the ex
tra expense of white stockings, which
must be changed more frequently than
colored ones, the corning lias been post
poned. Dark hosiery has had a long
span of lile, and a remarkable one,
when it is remembered that in former
times only servants wore colored stock
ings. It was not until the end of the
last century that a lady of fashion en
deavored to introduce black stockings
into vogue, and she did not succeed.
Even now there are many dainty and
elegant ladies in France who never wear
colored stockings.hut leave them to their
servants. Without doubt ldack and
colored stockings will he worn for walk
ing out of doors all through the winter
months, hut by next sumiia r those near
the throne announce t! :.t \.i iiu stock
ings will be universally v. : a ■ where
money is no object” and laundry bills
are beneath consideration. —Fashion
Journal.
Stiffly Starched skirts.
A swell dressmaker coni. recent
ly that the reason why some of the flar
ing skirts hung out around the- bottom
with such a graceful flare was because
of a flexible steel a quarter of an inch
in width which runs through the hem.
Some «f the latest si Ik petticoats have
two of these wires run through the
folds, one at the hem and another a few
inches above. Evening skirts are now
made with heavy flounces stiffly starch
ed in the old fashion, and more than
one skirt is worn. Some of the new
white starched skirts have three over
lapping flounces reaching from the holt
to the hem in the back, and one full
flounce extending all the way around
the skirt to the knees. All these flounces
are stiffened, hut not to the j oint of
rattling, and help to hold out the light
6kirts of the evening gown. Indeed it
is claimed that the starched white skirt
for daytime wear will soon take the
place of the silk petticoats that have
been popular during the past few years,
because those colored skirts have been
copied in cheap material, and 1 esides
there is something in the freshness of a
starched skirt dainty and luxurious.—
New York Correspondent.
All Inveterate Smoker.
Ever and anon crops up in pr:rit the
question of women smoking. London
Truth has just published a story from
Paris, by that most reputable •-t corre
spondents, Mrs. Crawford, to th effect
that in continental Europe, -.bough
the cigarette has not quit- i i its
way with after dinner coir- e into the
drawing room, it soon will. 'At all
the houses setting up to styb it i
served at intimate dejeuners and small
and lively dinners. Nobody is shocked
at ladies smoking, not merely one r ig
arette apiece, bn! two or three. A
minister of C*ueeu Christina told me
that that highly respectable and re
spected royal lady is an inveti rate and
a veteran smoker.'
iioim Ideas.
A beautiful table cover for a very
dainty apartment is of cream white
cashmere, with an artistic border of