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THE SILENT MARCH. TVlif'ii tho innroli t)”lns In themorntng Ami 111" heart and the font aiolight, When the flags are all a-flutter Ami the world is Kay amlhrlKht, When tho hug lea load the column And tho drums are proud In tho van, It’s shoulder to shoulder, forward, march! Ah! let him lag who can! For it's easy to march to music With your comrades all In line, And you don’t got tired, you fool Inspired, And life Is a draught divine. When the march drags on at evening And the color-bearer’s gone, When the merry strains are silent That piped so bravo in the dawn, When you miss the dear old fellows Who started out with you, When it’d stubborn anil sturdy, forward, march! Though tho ragged lines are few, Then it’s hard to march in silence, And the roadjhas lonesome grown, And lifo is a hitter cup to drink; But the soldier must not moan. And this is the task before us, A task wo may never shirk, In the gay time aud tho sorrowful timo We must march and do our work. We must inarch when the music cheers us March when the strains aro dumb, Plucky ami valiant, forward, march! And smile, whatever may como. For, whether life’s hard r easy, The strong man keops the piico, For tho desolate march and the silent The strong soul flnds tho grace. —Margaret E. Sangster, in Interior. HER GOLDEN LOOKS. _ £*) (J 5 ES, my dear boy, it (JA C/7.y would be most awfully °i ol *y U P here, and I should bo enjoying my visit no end, if it weren’t for two ob- V 9 “And what aro they?” “Louise diggers and Tom Wedding ton.” “Umph! Nothing should be easier than to avoid them, and—— “Oh! Is it!” “I have found no difficulty.” “Perhaps not. But then you are not the object of Louisa’s tender re gard. ” “Are you?” “Alas! I am!” “I condole with you, my dear chap. You must find it deuced embarrassing —especially in view of that other little affair.” “Ah, you’re right! When my chief object in paying this visit was to be under the same roof with Amy Bill inghurst. Then to be shadowed by this confounded Louisa, and to have all my tete-a-tetes with Amy interrupt ed and spoiled—well, it’s the most ir ritating thiug I ever knew!” “It must be. But in w’hat way does! Tom manage to interfere with your happiness? He is a bit of a bore, no doubt. But I have not noticed that he has cottoned on to you particularly.” “Nor has he. Ido not complain of the fellow, on that score. It is as a sportsman that I object to him—at least, when I am posted (as I liavo been the last three times) the next gun on the fellow’s left.” “Is he very dangerous, then?” “Deadly dangerous. You know, of course, that he is as blind as a bat. Can’t distinguish any object at more than ten yards.” “I thought he was a good shot.” “He is. He sees a confused blob, pots at the middle of it and hits it. A bad blind shot is awful enough, in all conscience. A good blind shot is too terrible for words.” “Has he ever shot anybody?” “I believe he has been known to wing u beater, and I understand he once took the crown off somebody's headkeeper’s bat.” “But why does our host ask such a manslaughterer out?” “Oh! Business obligations, I’m told. And you will have noticed that he never places himself within range of Weddington. But here he comes!” It was in the billiard room of Sir Thornton Thorndale’s country seat, near Ilklev, where he was entertain ing a large party'for the grouse shoot ing; and tire speakers were Charlie Bickley and the Hon. Horace Sturti vant, two of the younger men among the baronet’s guests. Louisa Siggers was a cousin of Lady Thorndale, and possessor of a not insignificant fortune. She had attained the age of forty-one and was a spinster still. Just now she was desperately sweet on Charlie Bickley, a fellow guest, and it appeared that she was under the delusion that Bickley entertained a tender regard for herself. Of Amy BjHinghurst all that need here be said is this: That she was young, well born and very pretty and charming; also that she took no steps whatever to repel Biekley’s attentions. Later in the same evening Horace Sturtivant strolled into Binkley’s bed room to have a quiet chat with him. There was n grin on the former's face as he entered, the grin of a man who is fresh from the effects of some good joke. “I say, Charlie, he remarked after he had taken an easy chair. “I’ve just heard such a funny thing from my man. It will be of special interest to you, too. It is about your sweet heart.” “About Amy?” “No! About Louisa.” “P-i-s-h.” “The dear girl has been reduced to a state of frenzy to-night. She has actually committed assault and battery upon her maid.” “For why?” “Because iu undressing her, or rather in taking her to pieces, the maid placed Louisa's best golden bun too near the candle. There was a draught from the window, it appears, which blew the flame onto the arrangement; and hey, presto! it caught fire and was reduced to ashes before you could wink. Louisa was iu such a rage tbnt she went for Abigail with a hair brush and landed her one on the cheek with the bristly side. My man, who is sweet on the young woman, tells me that she came down into the servants hall sobbing, and with an outbreak like measles all over her left cheek.” “Poor girl. But why was the fair Louisa in such a stew? Was it her only bun?” “No; she has another with her, my man says, but it is less becoming; not quite such a rich shade of gold. 1 dare say she was relying on that one to cap tivate you with, old man. If so. her fury is easily understood.” “Umph! I wish it had been her only ono. Then she would not have been able to show up; and I should have had some peace with Amy.” “Have you yet—pardon my imper tinence—have you yet proposed to that sweetest girl in tho world?” “No! I cannot get the chance. Three times I’ve been just on the eve of it; and three times I’ve been inter rupted by that irrepressible Louisa. I could wring tho woman’s neck with the greatest satisfaction,” concluded Biokley, viciously. The Hon. Horace sat silent for sev eral minutes. When this vivacious gentleman was silent and thoughtful it was ton to ono he was meditating mischief. And so, as it proved, lie now was. “Charlie," he said, at length. “Hear the wind?” “I do. ” “Squally day to-morrow, I expect.” “Yes; bad for shooting." “And good for—something else.” “For what, then?” “For a certain little plan which has just occurred to me. ” And with many winkings, chuok liugs, and allusive gestures, Mr. Stur tivant proceeded to unfold his little plan. The next day’s weather, as our friends had predicted, was equally and blusterous, though otherwise fine. Most of the sportsmen grumbled at the wind a good deal, as sportsmen have a way of doing; but Sturtivant and Bickley viewed the outlook with equan imity. In the course of breakfast the latter, who had taken a seat next to Louisa, said to that lady in his most engaging tones: “You are coming out with us this morning, Miss Siggers?” “Oh, Mr. Biokley,” the fair Louisa simpered, looking extremely pleased. “I should like to, ever so much; but it is so dreadfully rough and windy that—that ” “I shall positively hate the wind if it keeps yon from accompanying ns," murmured Charlie tenderly, and in a voice too low for any one else to hear. Louisa became very bashful aud overwhelmed at that, and turned down her belladonna-brilliant eyes in sweet confusion on her plate. “Upon my word, Mr. Bickley, you— you—oughtn’t to say such things—you oughtn’t, indeed! He! he!” “But will you come?” persisted Charlie earnestly. “If—-if—you really wish it.” “Ido.” “Then I will.” And the belladonna-brilliant eyes were lifted from the plate to meet Bickley’s in one unutterable glance. So it came to pass that when the sportsmen started Louisa was one of the few ladies who braved the wind to accompany them; audit goes without saying that she attached herself to Bickley, who, indeed, encouraged her to do so by the tender affability of his manner. Clad in a choice sporting costume, with short skirts and gaiters and the neatest of shooting-boots, she trudge along by Charlie’s side, while that young man divided his attention between killing birds and doing the tender to his Louisa, to' say nothing of keeping a sharp eye on VVedding -1 ton, the adjacent gun on Uis right, lest the latter should perchance be moved tojioint his barrels in their direction. AH went well until about half an hour before luncheon. Then Char lie’s eye happened to fall upon Louisa’s back hair, and he noticed something. “Pardon me,” he said, with polite consideration. “You will think it kind of me to mention it, I’m sure. One of your—your —haiix>ins is just coming out." “Is it? Thank you. Which? Is it this one?” exclaimed Louisa, put ting both her hands to her bun in a fine fluster. “No; you have not quite hit the spot. Allow me.” And Charlie, approaching, bent for ward and deftly negotiated the re fractory pin with his first finger and thumb. “There,” he said, “I think that i3 all right.” “Oh, thank you so much! So good of you,” giggled Louisa. “Nay! a pleasure —a privilege—a delight,” murmured audacious Charles. But here a brace of birds rose straight in front, and Bickley stopped flirting with Louisa to polish them both off in workmanlike manner. They had not advanced many paces before Louisa was heard to utter a sharp, shrill cry of dismay—almost of anguish. The cause was almost too obvious. Just then had come a stronger gust than usual, and iu a mo ment, before she could put up her hands to stop it, it had whisked off' her hat —aye, and worse than that —her gol den bun, both of which were being whirled high and rtpidly upon the squally breeze. Now the wind was blowing from their rear, and the consequences was that both hat and bun, which had separated, were carried diagonally across Weddington’s line of fire. It was then that Sturtivant—the wicked and mischievous —who was next gun beyond Weddington, pre pared the finishing touch to this catas trophe. “Yours, Wed!” sang out this incor rigible humorist, excitedly. Even before he spoke Weddington was covering Louisa’s hat, and at the word, bang! went right and left. The right knocked a choice sample of mil linery into a shapeless ruin. The left picked off' the bun. It was a near range and the effect was great. Never was a bun so completely annihilated. True, a few golden fragments were re covered bv grinning heaters and keep ers, and one of Ac 'logs retrieved a part of the stuffing, but the rest, in a thousand pieces, was whirled away by the wind over the-moors, never to re unite. There was no doubt on that score. Louisa's bun, as a bun, had simply ceased to exist. But who shall describe the agonies of the unhappy loser of the bun? Charles came to her rescue with his deer-stalker. She clutched it; she dapped it on her head; she tied the flaps securely beneath her chin. It was sizes too large. It nearly smoth ered here. But she was thankful for that, poor, shame-stricken Louisa! Would that it lidd buried her from sight altogether and eternally! On the first opportunity she slipped away unobserved from the shooters, and made for home. Nor was she the only defaulter from the party, fiensi tivo, short-sightod Weddiugton was too thin-skinned to bear the merciless chaff' with which ha was assailed on all hands for his little mistake. Ho snatched up his gun and departed in a fever of rage and mortification. That vory afternoon ho was tele graphed for by liis partner on urgent business, while Louisa was unexpect edly summoned to the bedside of a moribund grandmother. London Truth. A Nluvo to Duty. Mario A. Millie, in St. Nicholas, tells a number of “Stories of Ele phants.” Mrs.'Millie says: Some time before the elephant-hunt I have described, my husband was at a station in Bengal. His work kept him out noarly all day, and, being ill, I used to lie for hours in a long gar don-chair on tho veranda, too weak to read, or enjoy any more exciting amusement than my eyes supplied to me. We had three elephauts for our tents and baggage; and one dear crea tnro use to feed from my hands every day, and seemed as gentle as any pet dog or oat. One of our government chaprnsis was particularly devoted to her, and invariably shared his meal of fruit or Hour-cakes with his dumb friend. On a particularly hot day, the ohaprasi, to my surprise, placed his tiny child of six month at the elephant’s feet, warning her expressively that the in fant was in her charge, and was to be cared for till his return. I myself was an eye-witness of her wonderful sa gacity. Large banana trees and fig trees grew around, anil, to my sur- prise, the elephant broke off one of the former’s spreading leaves, held it like a fan in her trunk, and from time to time gracefully waved it over tho slumbering child, whether to temper the heat of the atmosphere or to keep off flies, lam unable to say. The gen tle way in which she moved her feet over the child, and across to each side, astounded me. I sent for a white loaf and some oranges, and calling her by name (she was never chained), tried in vain to tempt her to my side on the low veranda. Nothing would induce her to leave her charge. Tho warm air and monotonous wave of the swing ing fan overpowered me with drowsi ness, to which I yielded; and, after a sleep of some duration, I was awak ened by quiet, subdued snorts beside me. To niy surprise, I. found that the chaprasi had just returned to his off spring, and the elephant stood near the veranda beside me, patiently wait ing and gently asking for the tempt ing dainties so bravely withstood for over two hours. Indian Carriers on tho Klondike. In an article entitled “From the Coast to the Golden Klondike,” writ ten for Outing by Edward Spun-, of the United States Geological Survey, the author has this to say of the Indi ans who carried his baggage during i an official journey into the interior of Alaska in 1896: These Indians all have some Eng lish name, which they have got from the mission, where they hang around when there is anything to be got by it. I find in my notes “Tom” credit ed with carrying one hundred and ten pounds of meat, and “Jim ’ with one hundred and sixty-one pounds of sun dries. Tom’s original name was Kuk shon, and he claimed to be a chief of the interior, or Stick, ludiaus. He spent his spare time during the short space of my acquaintance with him in daubing vermilion around his leit eye. Before starting across the pass lie painted the rest of his face black with soot aud grease, but carefully left the red around his eye; and this orna mentation, together with a smile, which I think he meant to he engag ing, and which he offers on all occa sions as a substitute for conversation, made him a particularly villainous looking personage. Among the pack ers were also a number of women. These were mostly ugly old hags, and many of them plainly suffered greatly from fatigue; yet their patient endur ance was remarkable. It seems to fall to the lot of the old women, among these people, to do tho hardest work; hat men, women and children are schooled to carry heavy burdens. We met on the trail a whole family pack ing, carrying out a sort of contract with some of the miners. The man carried one hundred and twenty-seven pounds, a boy of thirteen carried one hundred pounds, and the squaw and little girls had heavy loads. Even the dog, about the size of a setter, carried forty pounds, with which ho Avaddled along patiently enough. Cost of Living in the Klondike. A good idea of what money will be needed when tho new gold diggings are reached in order to live until “pay dirt” is struck may be gained from the following list, quoting ruling pricep in the Klondike, the latest re ported: Flour per 50 pounds £20.00 Beef, per pound (fresh) 50 Bacon, per pound *75 Coffee, per pound I*oo Sugar, per pound *SO Eggs, per dozen 2.00 Condensed milk, per can 3-00 Live dogs, per pound 2.00 Picks, ouch J 5.00 Shovels, each 15.00 Wages, per day 15.00 Lumber, per 1000 feet 150.00 At Dawson City the following prices aro ruling: Flour, per 100 pounds £12.00 Moose ham, per pound 1.00 Caribou meat, per pound 05 Beaus, per pound .10 Klee, per pound Sugar, per pouud Butter, per rol! hSO Eggs, I>r down E6J Better eggs, per <b’X”U Salmon, each T 1 .*H> to 1.50 Fotiitoes, per pound -5 Turnips, per pound ■ls Ton, per pound 1-00 Durability of tlie Yellow Alaska Cedar The durability of this timber is for cibly illustrated by fallen trunks that are perfectly sound after lying in the damp woods for centuries. Soon after these trees fall they are overgrown with moss, in Avhich seeds lodge and germinate and grow up into vigorous saplings, which stand in a row on the backs of their dead ancestors. Of this company of young trees perhaps three or four’ will grow to full stature, send ing down straddling roots on each side, aud establishing themselves iii tlio soil; and after they have reached au age of two or three hundred years, the down trodden trunk on Avhich they are stand ing, when cut in two, is found as fresh in the heaYt ns when it fell WASHING BY MACHINERY THE MODERN LAUNDRY HAS BECOME A BIG INSTITUTION. Its Oi>onttioii* Coiutui'tocl In Systematic Order—An Jmmn*o Qimntttjr of Work Turnvd Out in a‘l>iiy—Hoiv the Work Ik Done—llejjulHr and Trunßlent Trade* A few years ago nearly every city was studdeil witli little Chinese laun dries, where the proprietor exchanged a small piece of paper containing some unknown hieroglyphics for each bun dle ns it was brought in. They flour ished for a while, but the shrewd Yankee went them one batter by sending for and delivering the pack ages and then the inventions in ma chinery for simplifying the work began to multiply to such an extent that it was almost unnecessary to do any hand work. Gradually the ‘'washee, washee man” found business slipping away from him and started an opium joint as an adjunct. Then the latter became the-whole thing, and tho laun dry only a blind, but the celestials found themselves closed up by the police, and they are now almost a thing of the past. The amount of clean clothes turned out by a laundry is astonishing, and a visit to one of them on a busy day would cause one to think that every family in the city was having its wash ing done. One well-known laundry handles no less than 2000 shirts every week and each one of them will aver age two collars and a pair of cults, with other articles in proportion. There are two classes of trade, regu lar and transient, and it is the former that the laundry seeks to especially please. All they have to do is to get their laundry ready and the wagon calls for it on a certain day every week. Some make a list of what they send, while others just bundle every thing together, depending upon the laundry to do the rest. The members of that class never complain if they think there is a collar missing, and they seldom have cause to think so. The transient class of customers com prises ail kinds of people, from the finnicky individuals who are never suited and change places nearly every week, to the clerk, who runs in with his shirt and collars on his way to work. The young lady behind the counter would be discharged if she smiled when a customer handed her two collars and a pair of cuffs. Those who bring their laundry to the office make out a list of what the bundle contains and mark down the day on which it is wanted. Then they can have it delivered, or call for it, as best suits their convenience. Many fam ilies have their entire washing done at the laundry, a low rate being made for plain pieces, and they thus avoid the necessity of employing a washerwo man aud adding confusion to the kit chen. Experience has shown that a com bination of machine and hand does the best work and is less injurious to the | clothes, so that it is used in almost all the large laundries. When the clothes ! are received they first go to the marker, as each customer must lith e a different J mark in order that the different arti cles may be gathered again for deliv ery. The marker also has to count the i different articles and compare them ! with the list to see that the hitter is i correct. The clothes are then bundled | into baskets and taken to tho wash ; room to be placed in the washers, I which are long wooden cylinders cou ! nected with a shaft that rotates back • wards and forwards to keep the ! clothes in constant motion so that the soaj> and hot water may reach every part. In twenty minutes they are ready to he taken out. They are then placed in a wringer, a huge basin with an opening at the top and a pipe lead ing from the bottom. In it tits an other basin with perforated sides which revolves at a high rate of sjjeed and forees the water through the holes. From there they arc taken to the dry room, a large cupboard fitted with racks which slide in and out. Coils of pipe furnish the heat. All the plain clothes are dried on a mangle, a big hollow cylinder, which is heated and revolves continually. A girl stands on one side spreading the clothes on it, and after a revolution or two they are taken off' at the opposite .side. From the dry room the clothes go to the starching machine, aud are then ready to he ironed. All cuffs, collars aud the bosoms of shirts are i ironed by a machine, hut the bodies of ■ the shirts are done by hand to prevent 1 the wear and tear that cannot be I avoided by using a machine. Ladies’ , finery is entirely done by hand, aud j all goods that might he liable to in ! jury unless handled with great care. | For assorting, a pigeon hole case is . used, one for each bundle. The col lars aud cuffs are first assorted on a ' table, and then placed in the pigeon ! holes. Each lot is then compared with ; tlie list that came with it, and if found i correct is tied up and sent down to the ; office cither for delivery or to be held | until called for. One feature of laundries that is not well known is the repair departments, where all missing buttons are sewed on and rents repaired without eost to patrons. Regular customers have their shirts carefully looked after and new neck and wrist bands sewed on when necessary at a nominal cost. With all the care exercised kicks will come, especially about clothes being lost, and it is an easy matter for the unscrupulous individual to get an ex tra pair of collars aud cuffs by claim ing that his laundry was short. When a customer insists his word is never disputed, though it may ho known that he is wrong, and the goods are replaced. To those who can afford the means the laundry is indispensa ble, doing the work much better than it can be done at home aud an endless amount of trouble aud annoyance is avoided. Detroit Free Press. i liild Sent by Post. A novel parcel for delivery by ex press post was recently handed in at a Birmingham (England) Postoffice. A workingman, who had been out of town with his three-year-old child, ar rived at Birmingham in time to, reach his place of business, but not in suffi cient time to take his child home. He, therefore walked into the nearest post office aud tendered the youngster as an express parcel. The authorities, under the rule regulating the delivery of live animals, accepted the child and delivered it at a charge of nine pence. —ifit. James's Gazette. FIRES ALONG SHORE. Millions of Property in Siv York Prn- Itidiid by k Fleet of A paper by Charles T. Hill in the St. Nicholas, in the series ou New York’s Eire Department, is devoted to “Floating Fire-Engines.” Mr. Hill says: With the growth of a large city, the protection of the water-front from the ravages of fire becomes an im portant study of fire protection for the city itself. Nearly every large city in the United States oives its growth to its nearness to some body of water, either lake river or sea, which offers exceptional advantages for tho trans portation of immense quantities of merchandise, and also provides har borage for all manner of craft engaged in this ivork. This merchandise has to be stored someivliere during the process of load ing aud unloading these vessels, and the big warehouses and wharf-build ings along the ivater-front serve this purpose; hut very often the most valu able cargoes are stored for a time in the flimsiest kind of buildings, need ing but a spark to start a destructive conflagration. Asa city increases in size its im portance as a freight-center grows in proportion; and .the value of freight and merchandise stored along shore, during transit, in a big city like Neiv York, can only be imagined. No reasonable valuation can be given, for ive should have to dive too deeply in to the amounts of imports and exports to get anywhere near he truth; but it is safe to say that one hundred millions would scarcely cover the property ex posed to the danger of fire, in a single day, among the piers and wharf-houses of Neiv York City. Nor is this danger confined to piers and wharf-buildings alone, but vessels in the act of loading and unloading valuable cargoes, the big bonded ivarehouses along the river front, the docks for great ocean steamers, and the freight stations of many big rail roads are also exposed to this risk, and need to be well protected, for a serious tire among them would destroy more valuable property than perhaps a fire of the l same extent in the very heart of the city. Fives along shore are difficult ones to handle. There is always more or less wind near the water; if a gale is blowing it seems to have twice as much force on the water-front, and a fire once started here spreads very rapidly. Then tires on the piers, or or in the wharf-buildings, are usually very hard to fight;—although there is plenty of water ail around, it is diffi cult to apply it to good effect. The land forces can only fight such a fire from one position—the street side; and if the wind is blow iug inland it drives the smoke and fire directly nt them, and makes it nearly impossible to hold this position. It is here that the floating fire-engine or fire-boat can do its valuable ivork; and New York possesses a fleet of such vessels—three boats that are fully able to cope with a fire of almost any size, whether it be among the shipping, alongshore, or anywhere in the harbor. Supplying Pulpit*. One of tlie problems the summer season always presents to those inter ested in tho practical ivorking of a church aud the one most difficult to solve Avith satisfaction to all con cerned is that of supplying the pulpit during the absence of the regular min ister. Tlie question of pulpit supply, as it is known’ technically, sometimes is taken care of by the church officials, but not infrequently it is left to the minister, although in the latter case he is apt to be hampered throughout his period of rest by anxieties as to whether tlie visiting minister is satis factory to his congregation. The compensation received for pulpit supplying services varies greatly. Asa rule the rate is loiv ivhen compared to the character of the churches served and the men ivlio perform the service. Probably the best paying churches, as a class, are the Presby terian aud Congregational, their rates running from SIOO for a ivhole day’s service to $5, ivitli few at tlie former figure and a great many at the latter. Methodist churches pay from $25 to $5 for a whole day’s service, while among the Baptist churches the rate is from SSO to $5. Sometimes the minister has his expenses in addition to this, but, as a rule, tlie lump sum is expected to include the ivhole transaction. In some places no fixed sum is stipulated, a sliding scale be ing iu use and operated on a sliding basis of one per cent, of the regular salary of the pastor.—New York Press. Graves of tho Klondike. Although there are very few people iu the country, one is continually sur prised at first by perceiving a solitary ivhite tent standing on some promin ent point or cliff which overlooks the river. At first this looks cheerful, and ive sent many a hearty hail across the ivater to such habitations; but oUr calls were never ausivered, for these are not the dwellings of the living, but of tbe dead. Inside each of these tents, which are ordinarily made of ivhite cloth, though sometimes of ivoveu matting, is a dead Indian, and near him are laid his l-ifie, snoivshoes, ornaments and other personal effects. Ido not think the custom of leaving these articles at the graves implies any belief that they will be used by the dead man in another world, but simply signifies that he will have no more use for the things which were so dear and necessary to him in life—just as, among ourselves, articles which have been used by some dead friend are henceforth laid aside and used no longer. These dwellings of the dead are always put in prominent positions, commanding as broad and fair a view’ as can be obtained. At Pelly we saw several Indian graves which were sur rounded by heivn palings, rudely and fantastically' painted, and sometimes by poles. —Outing, A Wonderful Hen. A most w onderful phenomenon has recently occurred at Boston, England. A poultry keeper placed a hen on fif teen double-yolked eggs and tiveuty nine chicken were the result. It is said that the hen’s bewilderment at this extraordinary brood from such an ordinary number of eggs was very pro nounced. The chic Kens, which are black Minorcas, are noiv about three weeks old, healthy and peckish, and have been viewed by scores of incredi file curiosity hunters.—London Times. ffffff What We are Wearing. Yellow in combination with light gray-, mauve or blue. Large collars of lace and embroid ery for children’s wear. Small-figured taffeta frocks for girls of five to ten years. Nun’s veiling in light colors for semi-transparent goivns. Narrow embroidered turnover laivn and batiste collars. Cerise chiffon for accordion-plaited gowns, waists and hats. Women in a New Field. Women are invading anew field, if not of industry, of science. Several young women have enrolled them selves for entrance into the Neiv York College of Veterinary Surgeons, ivitli a vieiv to taking the three years’ course and qualifying with the degree of D. V. S. They will form the first woman’s class in a veterinary college iii this country, though France has one graduate, and there are a few in Germany and Russia. It is said that in New- York nearly all the patrons of veterinary hospitals are women, ivho come ivitli their pets—dogs, cats, ca naries and parrots. Protection In Petticoats. The manner in ivhich the girl of the period is justifying her athletic devel opment is impressive and conveys an intimation of a neiv protection to so ciety. The latest example, that of Miss Smith. of Yonkers, who, on the discovery of a burglar, ran him down and dragged him off to the lockup, is an exponent of the change. Numerous other instances have been noted, iu which the athletic young woman in moments of danger calmly ignores the old-fashioned feminine practice of fainting or giving in to hysterics and proceeds to the business of the moment. In none of them has there been u clearer intimation that the coming wo man will solve the problem of suppres sion of crime, which lias puzzled mas culine society these many years.— Pittsburg Dispatch. The New Petticoat. The new silk petticoats are unusually pretty. Some of them arc trimmed in guipure with insertions let in. Thin silk skirts w-ear better for being lined. For summer use, pongee is tbe best, but muslin may be substituted with i-ery satisfactory results. For winter wear nun’s i-eiling is a very acceptable lining material. Anew order of flounce has appeared which is espec ially pretty trimmed with inser tion. It is out on the round and has no fullness but hangs in folds. Some of the shops show soft white silk petti coats that are very fetching. They are made of the best quality of wash ing silk. The skirts being so soft are made very full, and are trimmed with kilted or gathered ruffles. The charms of the white muslin under skirts him being once more recognized. However, the still' starched muslin skirt w ith its embroidered ruffle has not been rei-ived. Iu its place is seen a handful of finest mull with deep flounces hanging from the knee and trimmed with insertion and frills of Valenciennes, the frill on the edge resting on a narrow- ruffle of mull. The w hole may be drawn through a curtain ring, and is full of delightful femin inity. Historic llride-Cnkc Makers. Sixty-one years ago the Duchess of Kent and her 1 young daughter, the Princess Victoria, visited the old town of Chester, the quaintest in all England, for the purpose of officially opening anew bridge that was to bring all kinds of importance and prosperity to the town. Of course, if w-as an im mense event for Chester, Hint everyone did something to make the visit of the great folks memorable. Richard Hol land was tlie poor but ambitions pro prietor of a eakeshop, and he churned liis brains mightily to devise some at tractive method of showing his loyal appreciation of the visit. In a happy moment he decided to make some small cakes of transcendent excellence, put them in a fancy box aud present them to the young Princess. Happy thought! The Princess was delighted with the cakes, and how long their flavor lingered in her memory is shown by- the fact that many years later, when the Prince of Wales was to be married, Victoria gave a commis sion to Bolland to prepare the wedding rake for this great event. It was no ordinary wedding cake that Mr. Bol land produced, either, aud its exhibi tion earned him such tremendous fame that every English bride of wealth aud prominence who was mar ried since then has had the Chester baker prepare her wedding cake. Descendants of the original Bolland now conduct the shop, but they use the same recipe that proi-ed so success ful in the days of Victoria’s childhood. Even at that time the recipe was an old one. It is needless to say it is treasured as a secret. No cake is sent out until it has matured for at least six months, and better results are at tained when it is two years old, as the flavor, like good wine, becomes mel lower and rich with the passage of time. This system necessitates the keeping of a big stock of the cake, and there are never less than two thou sand pounds on hand. Some of the cakes are prodigiously heavy, that for the Prince of Wales weighing almost five hundred pounds. The o.ven in which they are baked is as large as the average kitchen. An American Lady at the English Court. Queen Victoria is reported iu court circles in England to have developed cf late a very marked predilection for Mrs. Joseph Chamberlain, daughter of President Cleveland’s first Secretary of War, W. C. Endioott, of Salem, Mass. The Queen already had taken a fancy to Mrs. Chamberlain previous to tbe recent jubilee festivities—a fancy to which she had given public demonstration by the frequency of the j “commands” which the American wife of the Secretary of State for the Col onies had received to dine and sleep at Windsor and Osborne. During the mouths of June and July Mrs. Cham berlain was brought more in contact with the Queen than ever, for just in tho same manner as the wife of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs has to take charge ol the presentation of the foreign ambassadresses to the- Sovereign, Mrs. Chamberlain, as wit* of the Colonial Secretary, had to “name” the wives of the Colonial Prime Ministers and statesmen to the. Queen —that is to say, to present them on each and every occasion that these colonial dames took part in any func tion presided over by the Queen. Mrs. Chamberlain is declared by Her Maj esty to have played her port to perfec tion and the intimation conveyed to the royal ear that Mrs, Chamberlain’s “savoir faire” aud self-possession had been acquired while acting as one of the “cabinet ladies” at Washington during her father’s term of .office as United States Secretary of War has had the effect of considerably altering ; the ideas of Her Majesty with regard ito the etiquette and social ethics that | prevail at the White House. It may be asserted safely that no American woman ever has stood so high in the good graces of Queen Vic toria as does Mrs. Chamberlain, who has just received from the hands of the venerable sovereign, not tho silver, but the golden jnbilee medal. Mrs. Chamberlain is one of the very few non-royal ladies to he thus distin guished, tlie gold medal having been reserved for the members of the reign ing house and of foreign sovereign families, while the silver medal has been given to the court dignitaries, the ministers, ambassadors and func tionaries of one kind and another. Henceforth Mrs. Chamberlain on all state occasions will wear the medal pinned, by means of a blue and white ribbon, to the left shoulder of her dress. Curiously enough, Lady Randolph I Churchill, Lady Hareourt, Lady Play* | fair and even Mrs. Carrington, the ao | complished wife of the Queen’s assist ; ant private secretary, had none of j them succeeded in removing Her Maj esty’s very pronounced and notorious I prejudices against the daughters of [Jncle Sam. Mrs. Chamberlain, how ever, has managed to do this effec tually, and is equally well liked by the gracious mistress of Marlborough house.—Marquise de Fonteuoy, in the Chicago Record. Fashion Noli*. Lace trimmings with all their dainty and fascinating subtility arc again tri umphant. The lavish use of transparent tex tiles of every color, weave and design is noted in Paris. Sashes of endless description in crease in favor with the advance of the season. Fashion allows one to fasten them where one will. The most graceful broad sashes are of soft undressed silk that does not rattle like satiu nor swish like taffeta, i Some of these are finished with silk fringes at the ends. Some of the newest dress sleeves j are built to match the skirt trimming in style, and instead of even the small puff, frill or drapery at the top of the sleeve, the shirriugs, puffings orplait ings that adorn the forearm are con - tinued to the very top of the sleeve, merely enlarged in width or size as they reach the shoulder. A correspondent in Harper’s Bazar writes at length upon white gowns. These goods are extremely fashionable this season, and are made of all ma terials. White muslins, organdies, monsseline de soie and sheer fabrics loaded down with lace are exceeding ly beautiful and expensive, while in wool canvas, grenadine, cashmere and serge there are many most charming designs. Like the skirts and sleeves, tin* neckbands and bows which have been a prominent feature of fashion for so many seasons are considerably reduced in size on bodices made by “exclu - sive” dressmakers who exclude a de tail of dress the moment it becomes general. The new models have nar - rower folded bands with very modest frills of lace or chiffon above, or else two Vandykes of moire velvet or silk. Old-style jewelry is coming into fashion again. Women are haunting the old curio shops trying to find beautiful old cameos like those worn by their mothers and grandmothers years ago. The old-fashioned setting is rarely changed, the quaintly carved and twisted gold heing considered ex tremely beautiful. The old brooches and rings are especially sought for, and bring remarkable prices when found. Vandykes in both large and small points, bands of black guipure inser tion, silk cord appliques resembling either braidwork or embroidery in their patterns, slight draperies, nar row velvet ribbon, accordion-pleated frills, tiny ruches in one or many rows, milliners’ folds, gimps, galloons and stitched bauds, will each and all ap pear as trimmings on the fronts, sides, or around the hems of new dress-skirt* for the autumn season. A smart little gown copied from a French design modelled as a costume to w ear early next season, is made of dark laurel green Saxony cloth. It has the new three-piece skirt and a dainty little coat bodice, each lined with a deep rich shade of currant -red taffeta silk. The coat has tiny tabbed fronts, and the west is of checked jacquard silk on red and green, crossed with hair lines of gold-colored satin. The drooping fnlrfess of the silk is drawn down slightly below the waist under a belt of dark red leather fastened with a gold buckle.