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HU'S IMil
,-.H proverb, that sola forth that
< . ~, breeds contempt Hfver has so
’ j..;..finance to my mind as when I
V ■\, the debonnair and Jlglit hearted
0 which parents regard the school
“ !,, The very fact that the early
~fa child’s life are the formative
r at his character is like wax in the
hands* and every school must set
1 v mark upon him, makes it one
nlo s, important questions of life.
( e father, with a happy sense that
no responsibility in il beyond pay
, bills. leaves It all to the mother,
( .. mother, who would scour the
a ' ( t ,i ihe latest thing in k nicker-
i r Tommy, or a dressmaker who
I ~v , correct set to Mamie’s skirt,
, , i , of the opinion that there is
n schools, and that any old
‘ a 1 do.
. m ik . a fetich of education, yet there
, rise under the sun to Arhose
n we bring so little common
~ \ imelligence. The average child
.mo school at a certain age,
1 , ,if a given number of years,
was serving a lime sentence in
i,i > *: ll ary, and when he is out we
, . fit “education”—God save the
‘ li, n, iy have spent the time learn
, .j| no may l total unfitted for
was bound to live; it may
1 i r,.nation instead of education.
, matter. He has been kept at
~ w have a complacent convlc
’ , u . have done our full duty.
; vou make that big, strapping
.‘,-atry this heavy bundle for
l .10 my colored laundress.
: A . v. Do’thy,” she returns. T
/ Jim deamean hissef by toting
' . h rough de streets. I done eriu
j . ~ Size, he ain’t got time. He
' ‘ , ,h- base ball.and,” and with con-
1 t ‘ he don’t know nothin’ ’bout
vnkVowav. He’s educated.”
says Dorothy Dix in the New
~, . . picayune, no one will gainsay its
i.ii nt’s duty to give his child
, . o possible education. To put into
..not only the weapons with
v ,V,. v are to tight their battle of
. : ,ji io give them those higher re
. - which lifts him, who can truly
\ mind to me a kingdom is,” above
j\;‘. accidents of fate and fortune.
is ihat to do this seems to
p.... .pie so easy that they do not
Sufficient thoughu Some line
• • - the father and mother awaken
■ t that Tommy and Mamie are
(•, ■ii g; .o be big children. “Goodness
’ they say, “it is time they were
tv"-::.r.;ng their education. There’s a
on th* next block. How lucky!”
with poor little Tommy and Ma
i . bundled off to it, and have one
and ■ most important steps in their life
; i for them, without one thought
, .wing been given to what sort of a
<>l i- whether it is going to meet
i . . ~is or not, or whether they are to
j. j- n teacher who has enthusiasm
ai mpathy enough to kindle the fires
i, i . soul, or whether she is a mere
:. i • hine. who grinds out learn
ukv t hand organ grinds out grand
with all the soul of it dead and
we make the fatal mistake of
i for granted that anybody who
< i a certain per cent, of ques
i ni a s hool examination is fitted to
> i N•-. er was a greater error. As
v. ! m.glu we say that anybody who
1 r l "Locksley Hall,” and scan its
Hid diagram its sentences, could
Evi.’ii more than poets teachers
. aven-l>orn, not made,- if they are
• .f th. ir vocation, and it is the
pity there isn’t some way to
* tin* profession and retire all of
• • • . i -* i 11 . i pedagogues who are doing
' they ca\i to murder the love
... Aicdge in so many young breasts.
!>• t down as a fact, with hardly
c ion, that wherever a child
ii- iool, and fails to be interested in
- li s. unless he is a dullard and a
ii the teacher’s fault. She has
.-m, no magnetism. Her work
r. and wearies the scholar. There
i in her to stimulate and in-
If we have a cook whose soggy
i and greasy soup, and watery veg
' bays our appetites and very first
• - at the table, we do not starve on
d't* r year under her regime. We
c ' • off and get somebody else. Sure
' unv as much to our children’s in
-1 1 1 ai appette. If their teacher can
1 1,1 before them that makes them
for learning, and thrist for in-
I nt ' .n. be certain that she does no;
i ; the first requisite of her calling.
' and k.’fp changing schools until you find
you need,
' ’'l.-* point upon which too much
; not be laid is in parents trying
“ 1 out what a child can do and edu
-1 in along that line. This is the
'!*• eiallsts. There is no place in
u : for bungling amateurs with a
'in.Hring of knowledge of what they
II 1 r >ing to do. The whole of a lifetime
1 > b'<* long to learn the craftsman
' ' ny trade, yet we take no pains
* ~i|t what our boys are fitted for,
1 1 that we could save almost every
1 >e first five years of hard and
'' • : oig work he has to go through
1 'tons out in life, if, from his very
■ he hod been grounded in the
fbe caking he is to pursue.
u <b>nT do it. We grind them all
1 the same educational mill, and
• n-o grown they have to go back
•' * men-t their education by the real
1 ihat teaches them how to make
W.th girls there Is more excuse,
■ • unknown quantity in the
; ■ ’ exigence. No one knows wiut
, v ' ’ t] °- sti.l loss whom they will
r ll,f in 'he general uncertainty
1 th* v will most to know plain
or tiie etiquette of European
'i nbly our potpourri style of t.i
--' '* s good as any other.
V, \ 1 , young Swiss woman, says the
, ' Dmes. who came to this city
, ; bhe v.as the sister of some
men who had been a num
. , rs r i!l l be country and risen to
‘hit he si-ter came for the
; . and she could not speak Eng
*he familiar with the
of the country. So she never
"i'hout some members of the
? v, ;h a Swiss maid who under
*>.i and also American ways,
-‘bger’s first shopping tour was
, . * i the mai*l. They had attended
errands on their list, and then
-woman from over the seas dls
' • word ■'beer” over a shop door
!,) h"sed to the maid that the;/
' • Place and get a glass of beer
,i,|w,, h. ns the young woman
■ 1 oe.i t 0 wit j l } l<&r friends jn
• oiifiiry. The word saloon she
•' retard, and it had no equiva
-1 •wn language. The maid waa
“ * iiorror at nrr suggestion.
" fi ‘ ' hun,” she said, “we must not
“ is only men who drink in
, ' “untry. *'
' s is a very strange country
' • i don’t drink beer,” said the
ri ‘ " in - Then she bocame angry
i , s,, rdlty of the idea. “It docs
difference to me what peo
ir, . , waid. “I shad certainly go
■ \ gla' of beer.” The maid
u V n v v iorrifled,
-he raid, “you must net.
indeed, you will be disgraced for life. I I
cannot explain just why you must not )
go, ' she added as the young woman still
looked unconvinced, “but when we get
your broth era will tell you.”
\\ ell, what do they drink here?” ask-
Ibe young woman, indignantly.
said the maid, much relieved,
and straight way led her mistress into a
big confectioner's, and as to that young
woman one thing was as good as an
other, she ordered a chocolate ce cream
soda for hf*r. This American beverage
beirg- so unfamiliar to tne stranger, it
straightway made her desperately ill. She
has learned to speak English now, and
tells the story with much delight, but she
still thinks sola is r b.irbarous drink com
pared with an honest glass of beer.
The Chicago Inter-Ocean explains as fol
lows how a Chicago girl got a husband.
“Oh, Mamie,” said the blonde girl to
the brunette. ‘T’ve sjot a piece of news.
John Davis proposed to Juiia Smith last
nig hi, and of course site said yes, and they
are to be. married in September, and”
‘‘Y<s, I've heard it all; everybody in the
ncighliorhood knows all about it,” inter
rupted the brunette. “And what’s more, I
know exactly how she managed it. Oh,
she's a sly one, Is Julia.”
‘‘Tandem, moon light, etc., T s’pose,” said
the blonde girl.
Nothing of the sort,” said the brunette.
"Her > heme was really quite ingenious
and original. It was like this: John, you
know, is a queer sort of a chap. He is
at lib lie himself, and he despises a woman
who ha-n’t the figure of a washerwoman
and the strength of a circus acrobat. He
talks about the physical degeneracy of the
American woman, rails at corsets and all
that sort of thing and swears he’ll never
marry a gill who hasn’t a constitution
like a Philippine woman or some other
kind of savage. Of course, he doesn’t say
all this point blank to the girls them
selvts, but he’s always hinting at it, and
when he’s with the boys he talks right
out plain. Of course, Julia heats all this
from her brother Sam. She’s got a beauti
tul figure, Julio has, I must admit that.
l>ut she doesn't go in for golf, and she
isn’t devoted to the wheel. She’s the other
sort—distinctly feminine, you know, and
all that sort of thing. She doesn't like
short skirts or mannish shirt waists and
collars, and sticks to clinging draperies
and such things. So, of course, John,
though he I kes Julia quite a little, fads
into the idea that she’s a soft, feminine,
useless sort of cleature, wiihout any
strength, and nothing but a society but
terfly.
“Well, Julia sizes up the siiuation and
makes up her mind to open John’s eyes.
Her mother, you know, is a splendid
housekeeper, and one of those practical
women who believe in girls knowing how
to do things about a house. Consequently,
Julia knows how to do all sorts of things
—wash and iron and cook and all the rest.
So one night Julia leads on the unsuspect
ing John until he is riding his hobby good
and strong. Then she ges him to admit
that because she does not go into ath
• letics of all kinds he thinks she’s a gilded
butterfly, or words to that effect. Then
she up and offers to bet him that she’ll
do the family washing the next Monday,
and <lo it in style. He can't back out, and
she wagers a theater party against a box
of gloves. Of course, John himself is to
be the judge—that's the game.
“Well, John shows up Monday morning,
and finds Julia well along with the wash
ing; in fact, she’s just ready to hang out
the first of the clothes. And maybe she
wasn’t got up for his benefit! Sho had on
a blue print gown, and looked as neat as
a pin. Just think of the iK>ssibilitles—
sleeves rolled up to the elbow over round,
white arms; clinging skirts that revealed
unsuspected charms over the washboard;
dainty attitudes as she stooped over the
clothes basket, and stood on tiptoe to reach
the clothes line; glimpses of slender ank-
Is. etc. Humph! No wonder he proposed
that very night.”
It is more than aggravating—lt is ago
nizing—to know that one’s future depends
upon the merest trifles; that a chance
word, a chance meeting, some little thing
done or undone, may make or mar one’s
life, says a writer in the New York Trib
une.
“I feel that I owe all my happiness to a
reconsidered invitation,” remarked a man
who is particularly fortunate both in his
marriage and in his success In affairs.
“One summer day, when I was rather in
low spirits, I received a note from Mrs.
X., asking me to spend Sunday at. her
country place with quite a large party
of young people. My first impulse was
to refuse, and I wrote a conventional note
regretting that 1 would be unable to ac
cept, etc. This I directed and sealed, and
even placed in the post box on my desk.
Returning home later in the evening, I
found the letter still there and thought,
‘Why not accept Mrs. V.’s invitation?
Even though I am good for nothing and
out of sorts, perhaps it may cheer me
up.’ Again acting on impulse, I tore up
my first missive and wrote another, ac
cepting.
“Well, to make my story short, there
I was introduced to my wife, who tvas
leaving the following week for her home
in the West. She made a great impres
sion on me, and as I had business in .the
vicinity of her town a short time after, I
called upon her. Our acquaintance pro
gressed rapidly, and the result you know.
However, 1 was young and poor, and our
engagement bade fair to be a long one,
when, six months later, another chance
befriended me. Walking through Wall
street bne day I saw, lying in the shadow
close to a step, a wallet which had evi
dently just been dropped. I picked it up
and carried it into my office, where I ex
amined the contents. As it appeared to
contain personal papers of value, and the
name of a prominent lawyer was printed
on the inside* of the pocketbook, 1 took
it to him myself.
"He appeared to be greatly pleased to
recover his property, and was most genial.
The next week 1 was agreeably surprised
by a referee appointment from my new
found friend, and that proved only the
beginning of favors. He constantly threw
business in my way, finally took me into
bis office, and ended by making me one
of the partners of the concern.”
“Speaking of such chances,” said a wo
man who had listened to the above re
cital, “a rather dramatic incident hap
pened to a cousin of mine once that might
have changed her destiny had the fates
so willed It. At the Hot Springs, in Vir
ginia. one year she was thrown a great
deal whh several prominent Southern fam-
TVs, one -of t,he sons of which began to
show her devoted attention. The affair
pregre: -.d with spirit, as (he Southerners
are wont to make short work of ihcir
wooing. An engagement would have un
doubtedly been the result if my cousin
had not received one night a telegram sav
in? ihat her father was dangerously ill.
an* sTie and her married sister, in whose
core she- was, left hurriedly the next morn
ing at dawn. In her grief and excitemenc
all else was forgotten, and it was not un
til tho danger was passed that her mind
reverted to her own affairs. Sh*->
realized that her possible lover did no!
elill know !er jddre.- s or (he nnme of her
father. However, she thought that she
would not be so difficult to trace were he
in e.’inert, and r.s time passed on end
she heard no:hing further from or about
him he gr I Iliai iy passed out of her mind.
year later she was on an ocean finer
hound for Europe, and at the exciting cry
of 'Ship ahoy!’ like ihe rest of the pas
sengers she hastened on deck. A large
strum v,ioht was close upon them. Signal*
w. re exchanged; the stranger begged to
have some important mad taken to Eng
land. and ai nronchfd near enough to toss
the packet on the steamer. As ihe pao
c*ergers on both boats eagerly scanned one
another wih the frank curiosity permissi
be on such in occasion, whst waa my
cousin’s surprise t<* sec a familiar fn?e
among the yachtsmen. As she hosita ed,
h.iiU.’y believing her cy.ci, her quondam
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JULY 1 fi, IS!)!).
Southern friend snatched a straw hat like
one he was wont to wear Irom the head
of one of his companions and put it on
his own instead of the yachting cap which
gave him an unfamiliar expression. Then,
hastily taking out his notebook, scribbled
a few lines, and drawing a ring from hi*
finger for weight, wrapped the paper
around it and threw it over the fast wid
ening distance between the- steamers. The
throw was w'oll aimed, but—it just missed,
and fell into the water. By this time the
vessels were far apart, and ‘waving their
hands In mute farewell,’ they again part
ed—till® time forever.”
“But what a stupid man!” laughed one
of the party, ‘‘He surely could have found
her if he had been in earnest.”
“But that is just where the theory of
accidents comes in,” returned the narra
tor. “the affair needed a little more pro
pinquity to develop it.”
Why Do We Forget?—
When friends have done the loving deed
Or reached the kindly hand,
Or given help in time of need.
Why do we sometimes stand
And check the flowing of the tears
And keep the lips firm sot
Till lqve, indifference appears?
Oh, why do we forget?
Do we forget? Ob. no! Oh, no!’*
"The kindly deed w’e keep
Within our hearts where’er we go,
Or waking, or asleep.”
Then why not say the thankful word.
And let the teardrops flow,
And show the depths within us stirred?
Oh, why dissemble so?
We cannot tell; but this is true
With souls that deepest feci.
We cannot do what we would do,
Unwilling io reveal
The measure of our sympathy,
And so we sometimes let
The friends we love most faithfully
Think that wo can forget.
—Juiia Harris May in the New York Tri
bune.
>
Woven of Many a Thread.—
Each human life is warp and w r oof.
Woven of many a thread—
Threads of silver, and threads of gold.
Threads freshly spun, and threads grown
old,
Newly born hopes, and hopes long dead.
Woven of many a thread.
Fashioned it is on old Time’s loom.
Woven of many a thread,
Twisted and drawn, through and acres*.
Threads of treasure, and threads of dross,
White as the snow, and sin-stained red,
Woven of many a thread.
Finished soon is the fabric rare.
Woven of many a thread,
To have its wondrous warp and woof
Tried and tested—put to the proof.
Stretching end straining its every thread—
Woven of many a thread.
Battered and torn by Fate’s hard hand,
Woven of many a thread,
Its fairness soiled by greed and lust,
Dragged in the earthly mire and dust,
Wet with the tears by sorrow shed,
Woven of many a thread.
Tattered and worn—so ends each life—
Woven of many a thread,
Ends in the gloom of sin and death,
Or saved by Him of Nazareth,
When earth is done and time has fled—
Woven of many a thread.
—George F. Seymour in Boston Tran
script.
Speaking of servant girls* and of the dif
ferent sorts which housekeepers have to
put up with a writer in the Chicago Times-
Herald says;
Occasionally you can secure a freak. A
hunchbacked girl who deigns to spend
about iw-o and a half days a week with
you and goes home to her mother the rest
of the time because she “doesn’t feel like
working.” A hard-featured woman of 50
in a sailor hat applies. She won’t wash or
iron or bake bread; she won’t keep house
for more than two people, and they must
sign, a contract never to have company.
She must have $5 a week; each evening off
and all day Saturdays because she is a
Seventh-day Adventist, and cannot possi
bly cook or sweep on that day, when the
mistress of the house must do her work
from morn till eve for herself.
Five dollars a week is what all the girls
out West ask for their services—such as
they are. Witness the following verbatim
bit of colloquy:
Young girl applies.
“Do you want a girl, ma’am?”
Woebegone housewife; “Yes, yes; can
you cook?”
Y. G.—Yes, I kin cook.
W. H.—Can you bake bread?
Y. G.-No-o. Mother always made the
bread at borne.
W. H.—Can you bake cake?
Y. G.—N-no. Mother always makes the
cake!
W. H.—Can you wash?
W G.—No, 1 never did; mother always
did that.
W. H.—Can you Iron?
Y. G.—No, mother does that.
W. \i. (ominously)—How much do you
want?
Y. G. (briskly)—Five dollars a week.
W. H. (in a big voice)—Then for heav
en’s sake go home and send your moth
er!
Once upon a time we had a nice girl, a
pretty girl, but she quit. The next time
we met her on the street we stopped and
inquired kindly after her welfare. “Oh,
I'm an actress now. I went on the stage
after I left you,” she announced, trium
phantly. “I ant playing in ‘Jack, the
Giant-Killer.’ ”
We wondered. We had seen the extrav
aganza, but had not recognized our Delia
in any of the artists. We would go and
see it again, and feel our bosoms thrill in
a fine sense of kinship with one so ex
alt ed. but first we must know her role.
“Oh.” she sail, modest.y, “1 play the tail
of the dragon when he comes on and
puffs.”
“I’ll tell you what a woman will and will
not do in n.y line of business,” said to a
New' York Sun writer, the man who was
{jelling clocks and rugs on the weekly in
stallment plan. “You can always figure
as a that going to haggle
about the price. If I’d offer one of these
$S clocks for $2.50, th<* average woman
would want something off. As soon u
the weekly payments began she ll mak*-
a neighborhood hunt for plugged coins
and smooth pieces and work tin rn off on
the collector. She’ll also stand,, him ofT
for a day or two every pay day, and
even when the money is I'eady she’ll hang
to it to the lost.
“That’s what yen can figure on nine
teen times/out of twenty, but there’s a
big offset. It’s rare that women ever skip
out and take your property along. They
could do it in scores of cascs| but their
conscience forbids. It’s conscience and not
fear of the law. I’ve had fifty cases
where families moved, but after a lilt’.e
the wife would send the new address. I
lost a family once after they had paid 50
cents on an SS clock. They shipped theft
goods by rail and went off We. t. J got a
blessing from headquarters because of
their skip, but somehow J felt that it
would b* all right in the end. Ho It
was After seven months had passed we
got a letter from North Dakota coniain
ing a money order for the balance due,
and the woman explained that she’d have
sent it sooner, but that her husband had
died and her oldest boy been lent to Jail.
I sold a rug last year to a family that
moved next day, and a dozen creditors
tried in va.n to trace them. After a week
er so the wife ran after mo on tlv street
to tell, me where to call, and added: ‘lt
was the old man’* doings. Ho took a skip
to heat the grocer, butcher, bilker and
drus store, but if I didn’t pay for tha
beautiful rug I could not say my prayers
at night.’ ”
Although our multi-nu naires theni-
Feives are, as a rule. pam. -ul.irly modest
and unassuming, especially while on their
travels, their servants na\ not the same
reticence, and it is atn g p> ? ee the
air® that the footmen ~ij maids assume,
who feel the reflected con.'-'quence of their
em pioyers.
“No duchess ever felt grander than does
the head nurse of the M remarked a
young woman laughing.y to the New York
Tribune, the other da\ She fairly bris
tles with importance. I > rossed with them
on the steamer not long ago. and the con
trast between Mrs. IM and Nurse A—
was most amusing. The former never
made a complaint, aid tho latter was
never satisfied. She se.-rn. fi to think that
the established rules of me ship in re
gard to children might u all very well for
ordinary but that tier little charges
should have special pri\ fi. ges. The cap
tain. who had a great sense of humor,
rather encouraged the ..;fi lady, just to
draw her out, and one day he come to me
and said: ‘What do you think Is her latest
demand? Easr night, you know, there
was a heavy fog on, and about 10 o’clock
madam came up on d* ck and told my
head officer she want* i that fog horn
stopped at once, as it w is annoying Mr*.
M- s baby!’ ”
It is a well known and established fact,
says the New’ York Tribune, that in all
things mundane the p* i.dulutn of custom
and fashion swings backward and for
ward; that Is to say. tlvie is no real pro
gress in any given direction. If simplicity
and common sense appear for a time to
gain ascendency their nfign is only tem
porary, and their most ardent adherents
in a few years revolt from their influ
ence ami commit Hie wildest extravagance
in dress and other fashionable follies.
Thus we ree to our sorrow the tailor
made woman is slowly nut surely disap
pearing. Instead of the plain short skirl,
shirt waist and sailor hat. which for sev
eral years have been her habitual uniform,
the summer girl now swishes about in
the most elaborate cotton gowns, covered
with a bewildering lot of tucks,
and embroideries, and a long train that
may bo graceful, but for outdoor wear
is certainly untidy. Her nats are as elab
orate as her gowns.
In the morning, however, and it goes
wiihout saying for golf, tennis, etc., the
old style Is still adhered to. but even here
is found a change. Young women are
actually taking care of their complex
ions. Gloves are worn religiously by the
most fashionable girls, and, borrowing
an idea from the Far East, many more
cover their forehead and lower part of
their face with two separate veils, leav
ing only the eyes exposed.
Women now have a prejudice against
a red sun-burned nose or a freckled skin,
and having the eyes clear does not inter
fere with the sight which is so necessary
for skilful sport. Moreover, it Is quite
becoming and w r hat is better yet, decided
ly novel, so for sailing, golf, etc., it will
probably be a universal fashion.
For women with moderate purses this
change of fashion in summer attire is de
cidedly disadvantageous. Elaborate, trim
mings on gingham and organdies and cam
bric® seem to be absolutely essential.
“One feels like a cook or a housemaid
in a plain cotton frock nowadays,” said
a tailor-made girl with a sigh. “I used
to tie so happy in tho summer. Nothing
was needed but a plentiful supply of
shirts and pique skirts, with a trimmed
hat and a go-to-meeting,gown for Sun
day. Now it is complere:y changed, and
for afternoon wear every one puts on
the moh elaborate finery, while the cost
of it all is enough to give one nervous
prostration. I do not like the new order
of things at all, but what is one to do?
It is better to be dead than out of fash
ion!”
Dr. Nathan Wood told a good story of
woman’s capabilities for business at the
annual meeting of the Woman’s Suffrage
Association of Now England. He said:
“1 happen to be a trustee of Vassar Col
lege. At first I shared with all my fellows
the old-time feeling about its not being
quite passible for women to be dignified
and intelligent in business matters of a
corporation charged with the management
of a great institution. I well remember
when the alumnae of Vassar finally per
suaded the trustees to let them nominate
three women to be fellow trustees with us.
There were twenty-seven of us on that
board of trutees, and all of them except
the present speaker were very distin
guishd gentlemen.
“We had before us a grave problem, as
the city of Poughkeepsie had determined
Chat w r e must do something about the sew
erage of the college. We had spent money
and money and money in endeavoring to
remedy its defects, but the city soil fol
lowed us up and threatened us with suits.
The matter was brought up in the board
of trustees, and we were at our wits’ end.
when a woman got up in the board, and
in a very simple and modest fashion she
said: ‘Gentlemen. I think if you would
follow this plan you would succeed.’ And
she went on and outlined a plan in detail,
giving us specifications, probable cost,
probable amount of time, just what would
need to be done, all in the most methodi
cal and business-like and clear fashion
that you can imagine. We all gasped. We
saw at once that she knew what she was
doing and that she was talking from act
ual knowledge of the facts, and we adopt
ed her plan. That woman was Mrs. Ellen
H. Richards of the Massachusetts Insti
tute of Technology.”
There has just opened here, says a Paris
letter to the St, Louis Globe-Democrat, an
exhibition of cloth< sand stuffs taken from
graves of Egyptian patricians and impe
rial Roman officials, ladies and gentle
men, who were buried in the second and
third century respectively after Christ, and
these, being in a rare state of preserva
tion. bring Mr. Ben Akiba’s saying, “Noth
ing new under the sun.” home to us whh
terrible vengeance. Those very latest
Paris novelties in stuffs and colors, the
fashionableness of which makes them the
property of a favored few only, are not
novelties at all. They or their original
must fiave been quite common on the Nile
sixteen or seventeen centuries ago. The
ornaments found with the clothes were
paltry as to weight, in gold and silver,
which shows that the corpses, when In
the flesh, cannot have belonged to upper
tendom. for in tho-e days the rich never
failed to provide their beloved dead with
a few gold coins to pay their way in eter
nity; they also buried their favorite jewels
with them.
The gowns, were unearthed In Antionos.
Egypt, at one t seat of a Roman gov
ernor. The wp l-known Egyptologist,
Gayet. superintended the work ant
brought his finds to Paris. As the In
scriptions on som n of the graves showed,
many of their occupants w'ere Christian**.
The bodies of the female* were clothed
in silk and wool, their undergarments be.
Ing of fine linen.
\VJ|en the silk dresses were shown to a
Ly<m* silk manufacturer he was dumb
founded. “The vry weaving process f,
myself, have invented,” he sold, ‘ seem’*
to have been km-wn to the ancients.”
And continuing h;s l/ivestigai ons with n
strong magnifying glars, he added: “They
knew all our tricks of manufacturing.”
pieces of silk cut from the garment or
one of ho Egyn m ladies were sent to
the government 'hcol for silk weaving,
and the pupils were invited to guess the
texture and manufacturing place. The
brighter ones concluded that it was "Jn>
quart work.” on* of ihe latest products
of manufa* ring. “But," ihey add
ed. “the co or *1 tribuHon is finer than
we have ever teen.”
Another piece • goods from the graves
was ndjudred o be from the factory at
Haute ore of the first weavers of
France. And the colors of these sixteen
tT -
The Abie Clerk to the Commissioner of Agriculture Gives
$. S. S, a Strong Indorsement.
The children arc (he heart cords of the home circle, end
whatever tends to nourish an<l strengthen them and Improve
their bodily health is a boon to the family, ami In this con
nection no truer words were ever written of S. 8. 8. (Swift's
Specific) than those contained in the strong indorsement of
Hon. Ulla G. Hardeman, Clerk to the Commissioner of Agri
riculture, wherein he Kays ho
uses S. S. S. in his family
every Spring as a precaution
ary medicine. He gives it lo
his children as a tonic, to buoy
them over the tide of Summer
sicknesses to wnich all chil
dren are prone to fall vic
tims.
The results obtained by the
use of S. S. 9. in Mr. Harde
man's family can be had by
every family in the state, the
South or the Union. It is a
mistaken idea to suppose that
9. S. S. Is solely for grown-
up people; for, on the contrary, children and even little tols
are Just as much its beneficiaries as they,for S. 8. S. is nature's
own remedy, pure and simple; absolutely free from all miner
al agents and narcotics, and Ib the only medicine for the blood
in the world that is purely vegetable. Children of all ages
derive untold benefits from Its use. What stronger lndorse
dorsement to this effect can be produced than that coming
from the pen of Mr. Hardeman, than whom no more popular
and seventeen centuries old grave clothes
were of the most fashionable hue—"Hy
santinian," it is called In Lyons, only finer,
more delicate and certainly more lasting.
Here is a dress of a noblewoman burled
a* Amipolls: "A long linen shirt of the
finest batiste, as the stuff Is called to-day,
with Insertion of lace. The ground color
is white, with blue polka dots and heart
shaped dots of white hue in-woveti. The
borders around the shoulders and in front
are of raised embroidered wprk, the pat
tern of which is quite fashionable Just
now. This embroidery is visible through
the overdress; also a modern frock. The
dress material is yellow crfqton, cut de
collete square. The dress has insertions
o\er the hr-'ast and is done up with many
flounces and frills. The poor lead lady
v ore on opera cloak, bright red silk, with
a white feather collar and a hat made of
narrow bands of red silk sewed together.
She had on tan shoes on which figures are
impressed in gold."
Your correspondent knows that he Is
chfdlonging belief by the above statements,
but he is copying from the official report
of the excavations made to the govern
ment. The yellow dress from the year 20d
is edged with an embroidered border of
many colors. The borders of imitation
precious stones, now worn, appeared like
bad counterfeits of the Roman-Egyptian
original.
Some little time ago an arto-le appeared
in many papers stating a hat the handker
chief was an invention of the fiftc. nth
century. Fiddlesticks! M. On yet assures
us that the most of the female corpse
excavated by him held handkerchiefs he
two- n I heir Hngern!
On the pnrln boulevards one serij now
adays many women wearing dress* with
embroidery In high relief. It’s so fash
ionable! Strange, the Roman-Egypdan
ladles of the second and third century
thought so. too. as their dresses prove
And those big buttons, paatele of rococo
ladles framed In bright metal, which were
all the rage not long ago—our sisters nt
the beginning of the Christian era thought
them pretty, also, though they used, of
eotir< e different subjects, goddesses sind
nymphs, instead of queens and great la
dles.
The sleeves of all the Roman dresses
were of a peculiar pattern, which was re
vived In the Mid.le Ages. They ttnir
have Sweat with them the ground, as they
measure mote than a yard and a half.
They were alro wide and voluminous,
g woman, whom her tombs.one desig
nated as a "mu.telin" had <n u r o.ik of
orange-colorel linen; her dress of purp'e
cfoth was enllvenrd by red nnd green
fringes and b< rders; the collar was beauti
fully embroidered, also the sleeves She
wore a red leather btlt and a linen skirt
With fine, colored ’nsertlon. Her tan rho s
were decorated with gold. Her handker
chief had many futh lows. The eonh In
her hair was set with bright pieces of
glass If it we re of celluloid instead of tur
tle shelf ore rrßhf think it hnd come
Rom u Uatis 1 Lane tora.tr. This t il
state official ever presided over the destinies of an office?
Son of an Illustrious sire, the Hon. R. U. Hardeman, a man
revered and beloved by every Georgian, and in whose hands
the financial reins of the state were held for many years.
Kv. ~s .my adds new laurels to S. & & fcyerv new testi
monial presents a different phase of Its wonderful curative
STATE OF GEORGIA,
Department of Agriculture.
June ‘2B, 18!)!).
I have listed your medicine with great suc
cess with my children as a blood purifier.
We use it as a precautionary medicine every
Spring, and it builds them up and purities
their blood so that we have a healthy set of
children the year round. I can recommend
it to the poople as a household remedy for
any blood or skin disease.
Yours respectfully,
ULLA G. HARDEMAN.
curing afflicted humanity for upward* of a half century. It
is no experiment, but a live, wholesome fact. The history of
8. 9. S. is a history of cures, thousands of them bordering on
the miraculous, making It to-day the most popular Blood
Medicine in the world. Do not be induced to accept a “Just
as good,” as there Is no substitute for it. Insist upon having
8. S. 9. You’ve good reasons; it’s backed up by TRUTHS.
wore a signet ring, a-loined with the head
of Apollo. Around jj e r r.eck she hail a
string of imitation pearls, with clasps of
t:oli bronze; upon her breast was sus
pended a picture of Yenuii.
The Romans believed that persons de
poning this Ilf- ink*-* up.thMr earth y pro
fessions in their now abode and therefore
provided the d*ad with means of earning
a livelihood. Tills nm-l lan’s grave con
tained a bronze lyre, castanets, and a box
oßrouge, some of the latter nr4l < intact,
Tiie grave' of two cireps riders were
likewise unearthed—each containing, be
side the corpse, what was f of a lea'h
r saddle—not a side saddle, by (he way.
The leather woik on the hoofs of ail the
ancient ladies is v* r> beautiful; they could
not do bene* in Vi nna or Husain to-day,
( Mn of iln •! i. women ni iMi isavft iWn
• t'bi sfian, hem,; <1 Hvio'ed as “the
sainted ttupht miu. Her corpse was dress
'd in a Fca-gn-n parm* n(, with black
fringe.- and braids set V shape'upon the
lower ha if of the akin; l. he color of the
braid is iltern-Vely white and violet. The
fdetvf h.Y. . mbro'dcry In white and vlp
!ei gr. e,i on violet ground 1u Ihls graven
p i r of .--.ho* a were found similar to
tbo < worn ui Kgypt to-day.
The gravis of ihe men contained all
sorts ol’ implements, besides arms. One
of the ;.noi M'cot pus mu-t have been a
lit* raiy rnan wh*i# in flesh, for he whs ac
conipan.'d by a lull omlit of writing ma
p-rid ink, s-y/.e-. pitchmen* arid lbooks
Of ICfO'eroe.
A thing which M. tlayet cojM not un
derstand was the fa-I that all the men
had h.rck nnd ui. the women hnd ye.low
hair, A rhemis’ folvrd th riddle; ihe
hid*- el the fernaie-4 vns d.ve l or b!< rebel,
wi'h ady or Me u*ji that Wcu and he worth
th* -lurai ds In h* days.
The I.; ns < i mb- i of r* mmorce is so
much int< rested in the s.lk finds that it
has agreed iu pny for furtli r ox avations
In the .same spot.
JOE HALUDaTs COURTSHIP.
Continued I’rorn I'ngi* 20.
V
the Newtow n switch, Joe and Anni*- se
cure in Dave's alienee were snugly en
scorecd in . shady corner of the back pi
azza. A bobolink fluttered from tho topmost
twig of the great elm Into the tall grass,
filling the silence with Its Joyful note*. \
locust droned its sdepy chant at their feet.
All the voices of nature gang of peace, and
they were lost in the ae ml-oblivion of
love's grand, sweet dream.
A railroad contrast!
Although Dave plowed up considerable
grave?, and knocked against the company’s
property in a good many places, he was
om* of the first to ar.alst the Imprisoned
mueengris, and superintended the loading
of his engine on a Hat car. He laid off
for thirty days, complaining of his back;
but in one of the rare Interviews they were
now ab.c to Annie told Joe that she
feared iu*r father'd nerve was gone, and
qualities. Don’t wait until
the sluggish debilitated blood
fastens on you, or a member
of your family, some distress
ing disease that the hot sea
son furnishes in great va
riety, but fortify the system
now with a lew bottles of this
great remedy that will cleanso
the blood thoroughly and ef
fectively, build up nnd vitalize
the nerves, tone the whole
body, and give you new life.
Remember that S. 8. 8.
(Swift’s Specific) has been
that he would never run again. Joe would
not venture to call—nobody did—but he
nodded cheerily to the sour visage when
ever he saw It at the window as he passed.
Dave came out of his hell and tried it
again, but it was no use. He made
three trips, but he would shut off at New
town switch in spite of himself, and was
no good for ihe rest of the trip. Finding
himself unable to make the time, he sub
mitted to the inevitable and applied for a
switofe engine. The old man could have
given him a nice Job In the passenger
yard, hut there are always old scores to
he paid off on a railroad. Dave had been
“aassy” when he was boss of the 27 and
had the superintendent at his back, so
now* he got an old worn-out hog. In the
freight yard—and he made no kick. His
nerve was, indeed, pretty well gone!
He took a preliminary sweat under her
from habit and was half tired, and whol
ly heart sick and discouraged when he
started In on his 12-hour day. He felt a
tr rrible sense of disgrace. It was a come
down he hnd never-expected, and he was
aware that there was a general sense of
satisfaction at his downfall. Not a man
had spoken a word of sympathy, and he
was the oldest engineer on the road. Not
that he eared, but—
The unfimtllar work, the continual han
dling of the reverse lever and stretching
out of th** window watching for signals,
wrenched him and made every bone In
him ache. He was conscious of the sneer
ing fl.ppancy of the yardmen, but he
toughed it out.
Along toward evening he took advantage
of a momentary lull in the work to sit
down' and lean his aching back against
!h* side of the cab. His old train had
com* tin a few* minutes before, and he was
Indulging In bitter thoughts. Somebody
climbed up In the tender, and Joe Haiti
dav stood before h<m. Joe laid a hand
lightly on his shoulder, and as their eyea
met he sa*d;
“Dove, ol man. I’m awfully sorry; I
am. by gum! Ir’a too bad!”
Dave gave him an ugly look, nt first,
but the honest sympathy in the brown
eyes war. too much, even for him. Then
shook hands, slowly, the hard look
melted out of the old man's face, and
he sn'dr •
“Dnr,;ed If 1 don’t believe you’re the
best feller rn the who'e toad, after all,**
which was th'* biegeft concession he
had ever been known to make.
He got a signal to go, and as Joe jumped
off he railed after him. “Ccme 'round to
the house this evenin'.*’
When the minister congratulated Dave
on hl§ sturdy son-in-law, the old man
replied with such a smile as no one re
membered ever to have rcen on his face
before:
"Yes, pa'son, h'*'s a fire young feller.
I was a pigheaded ol* fool, but I got a
little sense knocked Into me at last;
pooty near killed me. though.**
And Joe tells Annie th*t her father Is
all right “if ycu only understand him."
19