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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