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YOL. XVIII.
*• WHERE THE TREASURE IS."
* summer sky and a balmy trind,
And a swallow swiftly flying;
L wee brown nest in the leaves entwined,
And some downy birdlets lying,
And swift to that neat, in the leaves en
twined,
The mother bird was flying.
A flickering light and a heap of gold,
And a miser counting slowly;
A lonely home and an empty fold.
And a heart in self wrapt wholly;
And nothing to cheer that empty fold
But the gold heap, growing slowly.
A warring sea and a storm-black sky,
And a creaking vessel sailing;
A captain watching with troubled eye
While courage sore was failing;
And he looked toward home with a longing
eye.
As to death he fast was sailing.
A grief-marked day and a darkened room,
And a childless mother lying;
An empty nest, and a ship in doom;
Life gold from ringlets dying,
And God’s crown jewels safe from doom
In the many mansions lying 1
MIRABEAtFSJEST.
Hot far from Limoges, capital of the
French province Limousin, stood the
castle of Count de Saillant, widely
known throughout the last third of
the eighteenth century as a gay place of
assembly for convivial, congenial spir
its—old-time French hospitality offer -
ing a hearty welcome to all who could
boast an untarnished ancestral name.
Count de Saillant had married the
sister of the Count Ilonore Gabriel
Victor Mirabeau, afterward the world
renowned hero of the French revolu
tion, and at this time known all over
France for lus wild adventures and mad
pranks. His brother-in-law and sister
were at present expecting a visit from
him at the gay castle, and here lie
finally arrived one day in autumn of
the year 1780.
At tliis period Mirabeau was in the
thirty-first year of his age; a muscular,
beautifully-fertted man below his
massive, disproportioned head, dis
ligored by the large mouth, immense
nose and a countenance distressingly
marred by smallpox, but from which
glowed a pair of liery, expressive eyes.
In every direction were the bold, reck
less adventures of the young count
known—wild tricks that had more
than once cast him into prison—and it
is not, surprising that it was with eon
—aJxxiWy that the
simple, timid country people of
Limousin awaited the advent of this
intrepid character in their midst.
Hut never did preconceived im
pressions appear more unfounded.
Mirabeau abode quietly at the castle
of his brother-in-law, just as did the
other pleasure-seekers, guilty of no ex
travagances or follies, till Count de
Saillant and his wife were forced t >
express their admiration of his ex
emplary conduct, and almost believed
.that the “mad-cap” had at last grown
wise.
It was on one of the early days of
November that the monotony of the
castle life was interrupted by an ex
,citing sensation. A bold and daring
robbery had been committed within its
immediate precincts. Just at twilight,
as a neighboring nobleman, a frequent
guest of the house, was traversing
the customary road through the for
est, a gun-barrel was suddenly thrust
between the thick bushes, while adeep,
hoarse voice cried sternly:
( “Halt! Your money or your life 1”
Feeling no desire, as the nobleman
afterward explained, to lose his life for
the sake of a few louis d’or, he in
stantly threw his purse upon tiie
ground, and dashed off without ven
turing to look back.
Robberies or serious crimes of any
kind were of rare occurrence in Limou
sin, and less frequently still were they
ever traceable to the quiet inhabitants,
but almost invariably to highwaymen
from a distance, passing through tiie
province. It was at once surmised,
therefore, that tliis audacious deed
must be the work of some such in
truder, and Count de Saillant gave
wholesale instructions to spare, no ef
fort in the discovery of the depredator;
but all in vain. No trace of the bold
marauder rewarded their search.
Hut what was tiie astonishment,
alarm and consternation of tiie whole
community when, in quick succession,
robbery after robbery, of tiie same na
ture, followed, each and all committed
in the same mysterious manner, always
at twilight, os the forest road, and the
base attack always confined to tiie
wealthy, intimate frequenters of the
castle. Within a fortnight no less
than eight of these fearless assaults
had been successfully a'complished, as
gusts went to or from the count’s
residence, the cl Most investigation and
vigilance proving utterly futile to dis
cover the expert liighwayman.
Count Mirabeau laughed heartily
over the stories of the 1-andit, and
railed unmercifully the faint-hearted
knigtits of Limousin for thus permit
ting themselves to he plundered; but
they resolutely rejoined tlmt he would
prove no more courageous than they,
if once attacked. In vain Mirabeau
assured them that hi* roamed the forest
daily, hoping to encounter the mys
terious freebooter, and that nothing
would afford him greater pleasure than
a meeting, when he would engage to
deliver him a prisoner at the cactle.
Meanwhile the proper authorities
ite iteliiiifm!'
were by no meansdilatory or negligent;
every effort was diligently employed
to discover the author of the outrages,
but in vain. lie remained enshrouded
in impenetrable mystery.
It was late in ’ the evening of No
vember 15 that the Marquis of
Charras, a worthy nobleman, of middle
age, rode slowly on his way to Castle
Saillant. Twilight had already fallen
on the forest; it was perfectly still,
and the stars shining serenely over
head, while the full moon rose in
majestic beauty, lighting the trees with
fantastic splendor, as the falling leaves
floated silently from the dying bran hes
The insecurity of the path lie traveled
was well known to the marquis, and,
advancing deeper into the woods, ho
spurred his horse to faster speed,
inwardly wishing that lie had not
ventured thus into the solitude alone.
Nor did the wish prove a needless
one ; scarcely had lie proceeded a hun
dred steps further when the click of a
gun-hammer startled him, and the
next instant the muzzle of the weapon
was bearing close upon him, while a
dark form suddenly appeared beneath
a towering oak, and in a calm, resolute
voice ordered;
“11 ait! Your purse, my lord, or you
stir not further!”
Instantly the marquis realized that
he stood faced by the same dilemma
ruthlessly forced upon many before
him, and quite as reluctant as they to
sacrifice his life for the small sum he
earri and, scornfully cast his purse upon
the ground, riding slowly forward, but
saying, as he did so : v
"You follow a risky trale, fellow ;
I warrant it will yet bring you to the
gallows!”
“ That’s my risk,” replied the high
wayman, coolly advancing from ttie
shadow of the oak into the clear moon
light to seize the purse.
Hut just as he stooped for the prize
the fastening of ids mask suddenly
snapped, and it dropped to the ground,
leaving his face clearly revealed; at
the same moment the marquis again
looked back and the woods echoed with
a startled cry of astonishment.
“ Can it be possible ?” he cried, gaz
ing ns though par dyzed with bewilder
ment. “ Who could ever have suspected
this? Despicable man, you are at last
discovered, and now au end to your
rascally deeds.”
Tiie bandit, with no show of con
fusion, however, merely smiled, and
pointing his gun threateningly at the
marquis, the latter put spurs to his
horse and sped onward tOujf castle.
And hOwXhb line sport must really
co toe to .in end,' iiflipposH,’! said the*
robber, quietly. “ How unfortunate.
It h;s afforded me infinite amusement.”
And turning a by-path he also directed
his steps toward the castle.
Hreathless, the excited marquis ar
rived at tho tiouse, but finding the
count absent proceeded as quietly as
lie could to the salon, where a number
of his acquaintances were assembled
around the hostess, who was grace
fully doing tho honors of the house.
Although carefully repressing all al
lmi in to ids recent adventure, hecould
not escape remark upon his abstracted
silence, and some joked him upon his
humor, hut lie could only cast sad,
compassionate glances toward the
countess, as she chatted gayly, utterly
unconscious of the cloud above her.
Hinging at last for a servant, she in
quired if her brother, the count, hal
yet returned from hunting, and re
ceived in reply the Information that
he had tout just arrived, and had gone
to his room, leaving his excuses on the I
plea of severe headache. An tiour later
Count de .Saillant returned, and had
scarcely finished his cordial greetings
when the marquis requested an inter
view, and the two withdrew to an ad
joining room.
"Now, what is it, my dear Cliar
ras ?” inquire 1 the count, serenely, “ it
appears to me you look somewhat
downhearted."
“ And, truly, my dear friend, I have
sufficient cause to look so," replied the
marquis, sadly; “ for it grieves me in
expressibly to lie the bearer of bad
news.”
“Then, for heaven's sake, Charras,
don't keep me in suspense; out with it
at once,” cried the count.
“Not two hours since, wild 1 riding
through the forest, I was attacked and
robbed; I was forced to surrender my
purse to preserve iny life.”
“ Upon my word, I am truly sorry to
hear that you, too, have been subjected
to this villainy on my grounds,” ex
claimed Saillant; “ but others have
been likewise unfortunate, and I hope
your loss has not been great."
“And do you suppose I am grieving
for a few pieces of gold?” interrupted
his friend. “My dear count, the worst
is I liave discovered the bandit.”
“ What! you have recognized him 1
That is, indeed, good luck. Now,
then, tiie bold rascal will be secured
and at once brought to the gallows. I
will immediately—”
“ No, no, my dear friend, do nothing
yet,” interrupted the other; “this
affair must remain a secret'in order to
avoid, if possible, the disgrace of a
highly-esteemed family. You have
not yet learned the name of the
bandit.”
“Well, who is it?” demanded liis
friend.
“ It is—”
“Why do you hesitate? It is not—l
trust—”
The marquis came nearer. “Alas,”
said he, “your worst fears are correct;
WASHINGTON, GA, FRIDAY, APRIL 6, 1883.
the mysterious highwayman is none
other than your own brother-in-law,
the Count de Mirabeau.”
Count de Saillant became deathly
pale.
“ Hal tiie scoundrel!” ho murmured;
“ has it come to this? Y'ou are sure,
marquis?”
“ < >nly too sure, my poor friend.”
“ You recognized him beyond all
doubt?”
“ Heyond all doubt; as lie stooped to
take the purse the mask fell from his
face, and in the moonlight I could not
fail to recognize the young count.”
“ Did he perceive that you knew
him ?”
“ Undoubtedly; I spoke afow threat
ening words to him that must have
convinced him of it.”
“’What did lie do then ?”
“ He coolly laughed and aimed at me
again with his gun, but I escaped. He
arrived at the castle a half hour after
I did, and, I hear, lias gone at once to
his room.”
“ You have spoken to no one else of
this?” asked Saillant.
“No one.”
“ The villain !” cried the count, bo
side himself with rage. “But lie shall
not escape punishment; he shall be at
once apprehended and imprisoned for
life, that no further disgrace maybe
brought upon his family.”
The marquis merely bowed a silent
approval, adding, compassionately: “I
will go back to the company, my
friend; it is best that no unpleasant
sensation be excited until the matter is
further investigated.”
“ You aie right, my good Charras,”
replied tho count, “and I will go at
once to the wretched man."
While his guest returned to tho salon,
tiie host endeavored to collect his be
wildered senses, and repaired to tiie
apartment of his brother-in-law'.
Mirabeau lay sleeping soundly; a
night, lamp burned dimly on a table
near Ills bed.
Roughly ;tnd unceremoniously his
visitor shook him by tiie shoulder,
until, rubbing his eyes dreamily, tiie
sleeper awoke.
“ What on earth do you want?” he
asked, staring at Saillant; “ what are
you waking me for at this time of
night? is the castle on lira or what?”
“What do I want?" repeated tiie
other, with smothered rage and scorn:
“ 1 want to tell you that you are a
miserable, sneaking, cowardly scoun
drel. That’s what I want.”
“ W.clLthat’s a fine compliment, to
ber" iihce,- replied
“ are you drunk, Saillant, or do you
"think it polite, now, to waken a man
out of the sweetest slumber just to
speak so rudely? Why can’t you let a
fellow enjoy the sleep of the
right ous?”
And with this lie quietly turned
over on Ills side.
“ The sleep of the righteous,” cried
the count, in uncontrollable wrath.
“ How can you pretend to sleep, shame
less fellow that you are? You are the
dastardly rogue that has been haunting
my forest.”
“ Well, that’s true enough; I am the
man; but is it for a little tiling like
(hat that you are making all this un
timely fuss?”
“A little thing!” shrieked Saillant.
“ None of that, sir. You think, per
haps, that your highway robberies will
lie regarded as an idle prank; this very
evening you have robbed my friend
Charras; lie has recognized you, and
your shameful story is known, and cries
aloud for punishment.”
“Well, for heaven’s sake, brother,
why couldn’t you wait till morning to
: confide to me this pleasant informa
tion?” asked Mirabeau, with undis
turbed coolness. “His true I have
■ robbed your friend Charras and the
eight others, but What does that prove
; against me?”
“ And you can ask such an idiotic
question,” cried Saillant. “For my
j part, I should say that it proves you a
good-for-nothing scoundrel.”
“ I fail to see it just in that light,
dear brother,” answered the other,
I meekly; “but I think your conduct
! proves you a sen .“less fool. Can you
really pretend to believe that I have
I rdlibed these Cowardly nobles for the
| sake, of a few paltry louis d’or. It
1 was simply an experiment; I wished to
prove their courage and iny own also.
It is true the ixperiment was a risky
j one, but has been thoroughly satisfac
tory on my side, while proving your
friends miserable cowards, who would,
in truth, succumb to the very first
struggle with the canaille.”
'i nking a key from the table near
him, lie now presented it to the count,
saying:
“ Open my desk there and remove
| tiie second drawer.”
Utterly bewildered by Mirabeau’s
imperturbable nonchalance, Saillant si
lent'y obeyed.
Within the drawer lay nine purses,
a paper affixed to each bearing the
j name of the former owner.
“ Perhaps this will satisfy you that
it has never been my intention to in
| rich myself through the possessions of
others,” sail Mirabeau, scornfully. “It
was my full determination to return
the purses undisturbed to tiie original
! owners and which can easily be done in
the morning. Assemble your friends
i together and I will (five them a full
j explanation before taking my depart
ure, important letters already (ailing
;me elsewhere. And now, brother, if
: you are satisfied, I would like to say
1 good-night.”
Count de Sadiant answered not a
word; bewildered, he quietly left the
room, convinced, at least, that his rela
tive was noordinarvhighwayman; but
lie had also caught a full glimpse of
the daring, relentless spirit of tho man
who afterward became tho Titan of
the French revolution.
On the following day Mirabeau took
leave of his Limousin friends in tho
following manner:
“Gentlemen,” said he, with inde
scribable sang froid, “ pardon tho little
experiment I have tried on you in
order to prove my own courage; your
property lias been returned and my
brother-in-law has given what, 1 hope,
is a satisfactory explanation; if it has
proved otherwise, however, I am quite
prepared and willing to offer honor
able satisfaction to any one desiring
it. 1 regret to say tliatthis dull coun
try, forcing one to play bandit to re
lieve the stagnation of life, is no longer
congenial to me, and as I am now about
to enter tho more exciting pleasures of
the political arena, 1 wish only to bid
you farewell.”
It was quite evident that none
present desired to cross swords with
tiie grimly humorous count; the gen
tlemen stood somewhat abashed before
him, and their eyes fell before his in
trepid gaze. The Marquis of Charras,
finally forcing his features to assume
a smile, blandly remarked that the
whole affair was regarded as a very
good joke, and his companions made
ho objection to this settlement of the
matter.
Quito satisfied with his own part,
Mirabeau went on his way to become
eventually tho world-famous hero
painted by history.— Modern Aye.
——- 1 . 1 u
Law for Farmers.
Among tho most successful swin
dlers are those who take a promissory
note for some swindle they have to
sell, either drawn in sueli a manner
that it may bo altered or separable, or
else under the pretense that it will not
lie presented until tiie article is tested.
A good,authority says;
A promissory note is a written agree
ment to pay a certain sum of money
at a certain time. It must be definite
and unconditional. It is, therefore, in
the nature of money, being negotiable,
and where payable to bearer the prop
erty in it passes by mere delivery of
the paper on which it is written. It
is not subject to all tho defenses that
are good as against other contracts.
For xi, fo good
in kthc At'lie's pQ an touooent
holder, no matter though the
maker of it had lost it or it had
been stolon or obtained from him by
fraud. This may be tiie case, even
though it has been altered or “ raised,”
ns where l give my note signed in
blank to a person, authorizing him to
fill in a certain amount as $lO, and he
fills in a larger amount, as SIOO, and
sells it to an innocent purchaser. I
must pay the larger amount, for I it
was who enabled the fraud to becom
mitted; and an old maxim of the law
holds that where one or two innocent
persons must suffer from tho wrong
ful acts of a third, the loss must be
borne by the one who enabled such
third person to occasion it. The jus
tice of this is obvious, and any sensible
man will appreciate the necessity of
protecting, in the largest degree, the
rights of bona fide holders of negotiable
Instruments, wliich form part of tiie
currency of the country, and if subject
to all the defenses of other written
contracts, would be deprived of tneir
main value. .
Our advice is never to give a note
unless written in ordinary form, and
you should know perfectly the contents
thereof. Tiie great number of frauds
that have been ptrpetrated on tho
farmers of Western States and Terri
tories by patent right men and worth
less agricultural machinery agents
should lie a sufficient excuse for you to
have nothing to do with men, es
pecially in important transactions,
who cannot satisfy your banker,
lawyer or merchant that they are all
right.
Another fraud is that of convey
ance. The following decision is a
< a e in point; Where a party conveys
! hi* property to a third party when
judgments are outstanding against
him, and such conveyance is with the
intent to defraud his creditors and
tiie fraud is participated in by the
purchaser, ids title will not he pro
; te ted, even though he paid sufficient
consideration. Williams versus Nach
! enheim, supreme court of lowa.
So, again, whenever a note is exe
! fitted by two or more parties, any al
] teration in it without the consent of
all, notwithstanding tho alteration was
entirely honest an-1 with no fraudulent
intent, will he deemed a material one.
I Craighead vs. McLoney, Sup. Ct. Penn.,
! 119 Leg. Intel. 980.
In relation to mortgages there al
ways has and always will he difficul
ties. A careful man wiil never mort
gage his home except as a last resort
to raise moneyfor legitimate purposes.
In this connection, a peculiar system
of mortgaging farms in Switzerland
will be interesting. A farmer may
I borrow of a Uozen men suc
cessfully, the simple record in an offi
cial book showing their order, if he
! fails to pay, a successor is found for
i him by beginning at the bottom of the
list of debtors, and calling on each in
his order to assume all the debts and
manage the farm, or step aside and
1 lose his claim.— Prairie Farmer.
Beverages Six Centuries Ago.
The poor man had little to sweeten
his lot. The bees gave him honey; and
long after the time 1 am dealing with
left not only their hives to the.ir child
ren by will, but actually bequeathed a
summer flight of bees to their friends;
while the hive was claimed by one, the
next swarm would become the property
of another. As for the drink, it was
almost exclusively water, beer and
eider. Any one who pleased might
brew beer without tax or license, and
everybody who was at all before the
world did brew his own beer according
to his own taste. Hut in those days
tiie beer was very different stuff from
that which you are familiar with. To
begin with, people did not use hops.
Hops were not put into beer until long
after the time we are concerned with.
I dare say they flavored their beer with
horehound anil other herbs, hut they
did not understand those tricks which
brewers are said to practice nowadays
for making tho beer “heady” and
sticky and poisonous. 1 am not pre
pared to say the beer was better, or
that you would have liked it, but Ian 1
pretty sure that in those days it w.
easier to get pure beer in a country
village than it is now, and if a man
chose to drink bad beer lie had onlj
himself to thank for it. There is nr
sueli monopoly as there is now. I air
inclined to think that there were a very
great many more people who sold bee>
in the country parishes than sell it now
and I am sorry to say that the beer
sellers in those days had the reputation
of being rather a bad lot. It is quite
certain that they were very often in
trouble, and of all tiie offenses punished
by fine at tho manor courts none is
more common than that of selling beer
in false measures. Tobacco was quite
unknown; it was first brought Into
England about three hundred years
after tiie days wo are dealing with.
AVhen a man once sat himself down
witli his pot he had nothing to do but
drink. He had no pipe to take off his
attention from his liquor. If such e
portentous sight coult) have been sect
in those days as that of a man vomit
ing forth clouds of smoko from his
mouth and nostrils, the beholders would
undoubtedly have taken to their heels
and run for their lives, protesting that
the devil himself had appeared to them,
breathing forth liro and flames. Tea
and coffee, too, were absolutely un
known, unheard of; and wine was the
rich man’s beverage, us it is now.
Tiie tiro watniw. pivn time —the
Kin add tiie rum, which nave wrought
■n;<flWsur!i.!ni'iiTeulatyie’.n'i*ehief-—were
not discovered then.— Nineteenth Cen
tury.
A I’reak of the Flood.
Ono of the strangest freaks of the
recent flood is reported from White
water river, a fow miles above Law
renceburg, lull., where Farmer Hunt
lost forty acres of land and his neigh
bor, Fred. Newtiouse, had a barren and
rooky mill-site converted into tenaerei
of as rich land as tho fertile valley
affords. The land along the White
water is as rich as any in the West.
An acre of ground here is an inde
pendence for a gardener, and ten
acres arc little less than a bonanza.
During the flood tho Whitewater bot
toms were overflowed for miles along
the stream, and the extraordinary
height of the wuter created currents
that had never been known before.
Since the subsidence of the flood it has
been found that forty acres of Farmer
Hunt’s richest soil liave been carried
away, leaving that portion of his farm
practically worthless until restored by
a system of tillage and fertilizing.
Fred. Newhouse. who recently re
moved to tiie Whitewater bottoms
from Aurora, owned a mill-site just
boloiv Hunt’s farm. Newhoiiso’s
property consisted of ten acres of bar
ren land, unfit for farming purposes.
A portion of this was a large mill
pond. The millpond is now filled to_
the level of tiie breast of the dam with*
the richest soil in the valley, and Mr.
Newhodse’s remaining acres of unpro
ductive rocks are covered to the depth
of several feet witli the same rich de
posit. Instead of being a loser by the
flood he is ahead the value of ten acres
of Whitewater valley land, which,
when there is any of it in the market,
commands from S2OO to SSOO au
acre. —Cincinnati Enquirer.
An Unknown Speaker.
In the House lobby back of the speak
er’s desk is an incoir plete collection of
portraits of speakers of the past. All
are labeled with tiie correct naflies ex
cept one. This is the second picture
on the right hand side of tiie lobby as
yon go in from the west. No one ap
parently knows who this represents
beyond tiie fact that be was once
speaker. The oldest citizen has vainly
struggled to identify him. Unknown,
tho face of tiie man who or.ee held the
third highest office in the United States
gazes calmly down upon the proces
sion passing him in a maddening rush
for political fame.— Washinyton Her
ald.
The hay crop of this country ranks
next to thatofeorn in value. In 1881
the value of the hay exceeded that of
the cotton crop by $90,000,000. In
1881 14,000 carloads of hay, weighing
ten tons to tho car, were brought into
New York city by rail. It wai esti
mated that in 1882 147,000 tons were
received there.
NO. 14.
FASHION NOTES.
Joule cloth is a rival of cheviots and
tweeds.
New half-fitting wraps are cut with
Japanese sleeves.
Postilion backs and points in front
are tiie rule in basques.
New Khiba cloths of light weight
come in fine checks in the new colors.
Velvet ribbons are reyived for trim
ming cashmeres, silks and novelty
fabrics.
Several or two rows of small but
tons down the front of the dress re
main in favor.
Terra-cottas are prominent in tiie
shades for spring, anil an innumerable
variety of colors bordering on this shade
exist.
Valenciennes lace is returning to
favor for evening wear, the new Nor
mandy patterns being very delicate
and tasteful.
Quaker gray, dove and cloud grays
are the principal shades of gray which
are represented in lino wool materials
for spring costumes.
The spring visites are more frequent
ly hall’ long, and elaborately trimmed.
The full-length garments take the
form of rodingotos and pelisses.
Cat-tails, reeds and swamp grasses
trim tiie wicker basket hats that are
imported for summer use. Heads of
wheat are made into bows for such
hats.
The latest importations of brocaded
silks show Ottoman grounds with satin
and plain silk designs, flowers, leaves,
and conventional, mediaeval and ori
ental figures.
An exquisite fabric just brought out
is the Watteau raye, a silk and wool
fabric in vanishing cross stripe.s on a
changeable, lengthwise striped ground
in oriental colors and effects.
The white India cashmere robes,
witli India cashmere palm leaf and
other oriental designs, are the costliest
woolen stuffs brought out this season.
They are priced at SIOO a robe.
A stylish spring bonnet in “Queen
Mali” shape, which is of the poke order
of bonnets, is made of amber-colored
straw. About the crown is draped a
wide pattern of gold lace, which partly
veils a small wreatli of scarlet roses
and mignonette*. Tiie inside of the
bonnet is faced with crimson velvet,
and upon the extreme edge is set a row
(if pale amber bauds,
v In many New’ York stores devoted
To UiasuQ of oi.jgant lingerie!}* quite a
display of Elizabethan ami Ma,q ,-d.un.t
ruffs. Some am made of lace and
others of the sheerest of India muslin.
To keep them [in an upright position
a stiff, invisible net lining is used.
Roman pearl beads, largo and small,
according to fancy, are sown on the
edge. To suit this style tiie throat
must be, long and slender or moderately
so, and tiie hair of tiie wearer dressed
high.
The fashions for tiie present season
are to be singularly eclectic. Silk,
satin, velvet, plush, pekin, faille, bro
cade, are all worn to some extent, and
are all in “ good form.” So, too, with
the colors; dark groan, dark blue, gar
net, ruby, bronze, olive, terra-cotta and
seal, brown are all equally fashionable
for street wear. Long cloaks are as
much seen as tiie jaunty Newmarkets,
and hats and bonnets can hardly be too
large or too small to be considered out
of style.
Noveltiea In Hfiorn and Slocklnifn.
The rage for novelties in shoes and
stockings, says the New York Enenlny
Pot t, is quito as great as ever. 'There
certainly never was a fime when
women witli pretty feet could display
them to greater advantage ; or, on the
other side, when women with ungrace
ful ones could hide them so success
fully. For the former are styles and
colors beyond enumeration. For tiie
latter are exceedingly low cut sandals
and slippers in oronze kid, black satin
or black undress <1 kid, with a bit of
embroidery or beading upon thepointed
toes; these to lie, worn invariably
with stockings of black or some
dark shade, the pale tints being
left for those whose ddieately
shapeil feet can best venture to dis
play them. Among the novel fancies
for these favored ones are Charles IX.
shoes of silk, matching the costume,
and Watteau shoes of white Suede kid.
The latter usually have the toes hand
painted, this ornamentation often being
done by the ladies themselves after
purchasing the plain shoos. Although
this material Is easily soiled, it is very
easily c’.eane l with clay pipe powder.
Handals of gray kid or 1 ronze are worn
with home toilets over stockings of
cardinal silk, this being a partieu’arly
elegant comhinatii n in foot dressing,
l’alo silver-gray silk stockings, em
broidered on tiie instep witli delicate
mauve flowers, are also the height of
elegance; these are worn with low cut
slippers of pale gray kid, worked on tiie
toes with cut steel and fine heliotrope
loads. 1 flack shoes, that-a short time
ago were so fashionable for dancing
and evening wear, are quite discarded,
and the sandal or shoe, like the gloves
and the fan, must always match the
toilet.
The pr >po:sed county of l’ark in
Montana will have an area of 12,! 00
square miles ; nearly ten times that of
the whole of Rhode Island,