Charlton County herald. (Folkston, Ga.) 1898-current, August 27, 1908, Image 2

Charlton County herald., August 27, 1908, Image 2

About Charlton County herald. (Folkston, Ga.) 1898-current | View Entire Issue (Aug. 27, 1908)

Page of 8

Prev Issue Next Issue

Text PDF JP2 (4.3 MB) Clip/Print Image

Page of 8

Prev Issue Next Issue

Return to Top

Newspaper Page TextOL’ JOSHWAY AN’ BDE SUN, AN UNCLE REMUS RHYME, or Josbm‘{ stood in front er his {ent, An’ sicc’d his roldiers on, But when he turned fer to look aroun’, De dng wuz nearly l_(fcme. i He r%le)agd his beard, he scratched his 3 An’ kicked his heel in de froun'; Kaze he wanter finish de battle-job Befo’ de Sun went down, ' He look ter de East an’ he lock ter de West,, . ; An' he wave his han’ on high, . “King Sun,” sezee, “I want vou ter ses Me smite um hip an’ thigh! Come down ter camp an’ rest yo'se'f A little while wid me, T'll git you a fan an’ bi{‘;‘ wide cheer An’ set it whar vou kin see.” Dey wuz lots mo’ talk, but de Sun con‘.e' down 3 ‘ An tuck a little ease, An’ when he got too awful hot, He called uﬁ ol’ Brer Breeze! “My time is ehort,” sez de Sun, sezee, “An’ you better do yo’ do, Kaze I'm feelin’ like I wanter sec IDis mortual scuffle throo!” —TFrom HOW LOCO JONES SAW LIGHT. “I've rode night-herd,” the fore man of the Jack Hall outfit said, “un til I glep’ astraddle of my horse; I've rode night runs when I'd ’a’ sold my chance o’ comin’ through for a wore out rope an’ throwed a bridle in; I've rode the trail an’ seen the cattle piled up dead at poison springs, which ain’t no joyful vision by no means,#but when I think of the time the Jack Hall outfit night-herded Loco Jones till he seen light, I pass; that sure was terrible.” He blew a ring of fragrant smoke and peered out through it as if his eyes reached out to his beloved mountains and their canopy of turquoise sky. “Jones,” he said, “wuz a poor devil that'd gone loco tendin’ sheep, which ain't no ways uncommonly the end o’ sich a life. Bein’ alone does it, under the stars that wink an' wink at you with out no“sound. An' days an’ weeks an’ months without no human face; the rustle of the sheep when they lays down an’ gmell o' wool, by the "Tarnal, it must be awful to live that a-way. “Jones must 'a' came from Arizona or New Mexico becuz he sure kin spit the Spanish like a native-born, but no one never heard him tell just where his trail had led. His brain wuz kind o' like a crazy quilt, all full o’ patches, no two alike, 1 kind 0’ think sometimes, he'd made a mis cue back in the past an’ drifted off to hide, but if he did we never knowed. He stood plum six foot three, straight in his socks an’ must 'a’ been a won der of a man before the loco et him down to skin an’ bone, His face wuz " i S than his hair, only his halr wuz dull an’ hung in strings as if the roots wuz dead. He first come to the Jack Hall outfit when Cook wuz holdin’ fort alone, the boys bein’ off roundin’ up Poncha pasture, an’ when I rode in at night he'd settled down to bein’ plum at home, * ‘Bill,” Cook says, introducin' of him, ‘I has a new-found neighbor, an’ 1 hopes a friend, which lives some place on Poncha, close to Cottonwood, I'd wish to have you meet him, as near as I kin make it out his name is Jones,’ ' “My name,’ the stranger says, ‘is reely Norval, becuz I tends my fa ther's flocks, but Jones'll do. A rose by any other name'd smell as sweet, as Shakespeare says, so Jones'll do. The world is runnin’ over with the name of Smith, an' so I takes the name o' Jones to help the Joneses out.’ I looks at Cook, which points his finger at his head an’ w‘nks, which sets me straight, an’ then old Bull which'd been snoozin' some place in the sun comes up. ‘Odds boddi kins,” says Jones, ‘a very devil of a dog. Here, knave, come here," an’ dern my pictures if Bull don't walk straight up to him an' lick his hand, which sure wuz plub unnatural, him bein’ a backward dog by nature an’ slow in hookin' up with strangers. * ‘Plum locoed,’ says Cook, speakin’ kind o absent-minded, but NOwWays misstatin' of the truth. " ‘That's right,' says Jones. ‘The whole world locoed, all but me.’ * 'That ain't noways a lie,’ says Cook, to square the bread he'd made. “‘lt's the eternal truth,’ says Jones, ‘as this here doggie knows, which he tells me with his eyes, 1 sees the real heart o' things, the good an’ true an' bheautiful, only my head ils full o' prickly little aches that never dies.’ “I seen his case wuz hopeless from the start, sheep herdin' serves white ‘men that-a-way sometimes, but he turned out to be a handy man to have around an’ buckled up to Cook an’' Bull like they wuz long-lost brothers an' helped around the shack an’ did odd chores an' acted as if he wuz #-tryin’ to show that he wuz white. He'd built hisself a shack, but mostly days he hung around with Cook an’ ull, an’ no time ain't passed till he Wuz pretty near as much a fixture of the Jack Hall outfit as Bull hisselt, which sure is savin' lots. Sometimes he's middlin' sensible, which times is mostly when the weather's dry, but when it's muggy an’ the air is thick an’ wet the pain gets awful in his head an’' his eves has the same dumb ook you see a locoed steer have when he lays down te die. Them times Jones walks by hisself, an' seems ta kind o' lose his eyesight an' steps high, for all the worid like a locoed Well, dey fit an’ fit, an’ fowt an’ fowt, Right dar in de light er de Sun, But soshway frailed um out an’ soon He had um on de run. - King Sun, he say, “I'm over due 'C%onn dar whar de night’s still black: De folks will wake ’fo’ de chickens crow, A An’ put der big clocks back.” or Joshway thanked him mighty polile, An’ ax him fer ter come ag’in; King Sun, he say, “T speck dat’l Will be whar T've afllers been.” ! Den he mosied off, kaze he ain't gol time Fer ter set an’ talk an’ stay; g e h?ttir go off whar de night still dar An’ start (er breakin’ day. Well, time run on an’ people ’spute "Bout Joshway an’ de Sumn. Some say dis an’ some say dat, An’ splain why Joshway won; Sometimes when he wuz settin’ ’roun’ What he couldn’t he'p but, hear, He'd say, “Go in de settin’-room an’ see Jow he scorched my big arm-cheer!” Uncie Remus's—The Home Magazine, steer that jumps over pieces o’ straw an’ shies at things that ain’t noways unusual, an’ he spouts out poetry an’ waves his arms an’ uses words that none of us kin get no sense from, bein’ some foreign language, Greek or French, 1 ain't a-sayin’ which, but mostly he’s only harmless as if his body had plain an' simple outgrowed his mind. “In stormy weather, when the cat tle'd get restless an’ the boys’d be out night-ridin’ them, once in a while they'd get a sight o’ Jones, barehead ed an’ wet strings hangin’ every which-a-way about his face, trampin’ alone, shakin' his fist an’ cussin’ an’ cryin’ out awful in the night, but no one could ’'a’ helped it an’' we never tried, the loco had too fast a hold on him an’ wuz corrodin’ of him, lock, stock an’ barrel, slow but deadly sure. Sometimes we let him ride a bit, more to keep him contented than for any good he done, an’ Cook bein’ plum sympgthetic for him'd let him have his saddle any time he'd wish. Things gradual settled down till no one hard 1y noticed Jomnes, but Cook an’ Short Leg Dwyer, which he'd kind o’ picked out from the rest, watched over him plum concerned to see he didn't get ; 2 Keep the Boys on the Farm. Fathers and mothers on the farm, before your boys have hearkened to the call of the city, show them the opportunities that a:vait tthe;m at hom;:. Begin a course of education that will ena‘ulﬁ ém to improve these opportunities, s nding them to agricultural achool’ whenever possible. Then, &wabﬁS}h el epromiSes Bt *the city do catch their ea , they will bs so‘“d‘esm! con cerned in becoming successful farmers that they will not be Tursd from the soil. . = The desertion of the farm and overcrowding of the city by un skilled workers from the country are two big factors in raising the price of foodstuffs and lowering wages in the cities, where compe tition holds the knife at every second man's throat, Taesze deser tions have verily become a national menace, Educationally, indusirial training is what the couniry most needs, and we will not get this sufiiciently until there is wazed a vigorous campaign of enlightenment by the State normal schoolg, the agricultural colleges and the Department of Agriculture, accord ing to Secretary Wilson, of that department, to show the American people just how much national greatness with us lies in the hands of the farmer, Agreeing with the Secretary, we would emphasiza the fact that even this educational work cannot bring about tha desired results without the help of the mothers and fathers an tha farm, who must instill the idea in the minds of the boys and girls on the old home place. The wise mother there puts by the ambition which spurred the mother of the last generation to disregard the dictates of her heart and urge her boy cityward in search of a life work. She knows that success may be found at home, even if it 2 be the unblazoned kind that will never be coupled with the word “career.,” no harm, them two sure bein’ ag white | little men at heart as ever wore bow legged pants to fit a bronch. ‘ “We all knowed Jones couldn't last no length of time. How flesh an’ blood 1 ¢'d stand the demon fires as long as he did marvels me, but w: knowed well that soon or late the loco'd reach his heart. One time when he'd took out a horse to kind o’ look up strays in Poncha pasture a storm come up most from a clear blue sky. The clouds puffed up like steam, an’ every thing seemed kind o' prickly with electricity till I sure see we had one fearful night to spend. ‘Get out your “Fishes,” boys,’ I tells the outfit, ‘death an’ high waters is goin' to roar around us before we see the sun rise any more,"” which sure was true an’ ‘no mistake, an’ Cottonwood choked up an' roared all night; the wind‘; blowed splinters off the hills an’ light nin' filled the valley till it smelled like brimstone on a sulphur match. It sure wuz hard to hold the jumpy cattle till close to sunup when the storm had gone on south, an' then we got them rounded up an’ quieted an’ left them feedin’, knowin' plenty well they'd have enough to keep them quiet for a while, an’ we rode back where Cook wuz waitin’ for us with a kettle full o' coffee hot an' black, an' most like pancakes, which wuz his custom when the boys is bein’ pushed hard. “We all wuz kind o' quiet, bein’ soppin’ wet an’ mostly dead for sleep, but Short Leg Dwyer wuz worst of all an' looks like he'd seen a ghost, which 1 remarks. ‘Mother of God, I did," says Short Leg, crossin’ hisself, ‘the devil rode with Loco Jones last night, an’ 1 seen it, Bill, it wuz aw ful,’ he says, kind o' chokin' off a groan. “ 'All right, Short Leg,''l says to him, thinkin' maybe he'd got over excited in the dark. * ‘lt ain’t all right,’ he says, ‘I seen the devil ride with Loco Jones last night. Mother of God, Bill, 1 seen him, I seen him with my own eyes. You know that pinto bronch which we has noticed gettin' loco, Jones vuz a-ridin’ him. I never seen him come nor go, 1 never heard no noise. The wind blowed every sound away, but,’ he says, a-crossin’ hisself ‘again, ‘a flash of lightnin’ that blazed the whole of Poncha Mountain showed me a locoed man astraddle of a Jocoed horse hot footin’ it to hades.’ “We kind o' give Short Leg the laugh an’ asked him what kind o’ licker acted that-a-way on the ‘ﬁisb, an’ he shut up, but kep’ a-mumblin’ to hisself an’ shakin’ his head till we'd rode in, an’ then after he'd got a couple o’ bowlé o’ coffee in him+he cheered up some, but still stuck‘t% it that he’d seen Loco Jones a-racin’ the pinto where no horse could hardly pick a trail by day, let alone travel there at all when things wuz dark. iHe says he’s goin’ to help Cook clean ‘the dishes up an’ go over to Loco's shack on Poncha to prove he ain't a-lyin’ none, an’ even if he is the best of us gits excited now an’ then, o iCook an’ Short Leg hustles things an’ starts off to see how things is dritfﬁn' on with Loco Jones. ’ “Cook comes a-ridin’ back alone, ian’ I kin see that somethin’s hap pened by the way he sets, ‘Bill,” he saye, ‘poor Loco's gittin’ close up. to the crossin’, he's awful sick. Short Leg, maybe, 's lied some, but then, he’s Irish an’ thinks he sees things when he don’t, but they's a mystery some place the which I ain’t a-goin’ to make no efforts to explain, for Loco Jones wuz in the shack, laid out plum stiff, his lamp all fired low, as wet as if he'd swum the Cottonwood, We couldn’t shake him up so we nan {dresses him an’ fixes him the best we ikin. He’s plum sure goin’ to die, but if T ain’t mistook it's goin’ to take a spell before he does, an’ this here outfit’s got some night-herdin’ oun its %hands,' which proves to be the nun skimmed truth, for Jones is surely slippin’ off his hobble, the which I sees when I rides over, but lettin’ g 0 all-fired hard. Most o’ the time he lays there like a log, but now an’ then he kind o’ stretches hisself out an’ groans like lifé was rooted deep in him an’ hated bad to leave, - “Cook wrasslées up a nightshirt gor him, which is a wonder, nightshirts not bein’ none esteemed in“the Little Gorell them days, but one o' my boys has one the which his maw'd made for him particular,an’ which he's kep’ as a kind of soovenir an’ never men tioned none for fear o' hein’ called a sissy. He loans the shirt to Cook, which says that when Jones dies he’s goin’ to die dressed up like the gentle man an’ scholar that he is. e 2 WRNEINENENENINENEN NN NN € | “When Short Leg Dwyer sces that Jones is bound to die, he asks me kin lhe ride over to Canon City an’ git 'some holy water to baptize him if la,e gets his senses back, an' when he's Igone we finds the pinto bronch right Iclose to where he seen him at the bottom of a twenty-five-foot drop, saddled and bridled, neck doubled up under him an' broke, dead as th‘g mummy of a old Egyptian king. We looked around for signs of Loco, but ‘nary sign showed up an’ no one never ‘knowed if he’d went over with the horse or how he come to be there the shack only, Short Leg kept a-sayin’ that he sure nad seen him ntreaun'%g along the side o' Poncha drove by the devil to the place the broneh lay dead, “ ‘lt’s mighty close,’ says Cook, one day, ‘last night Bull howled, 'au’l( mighty soon now Jones is goin’ to that land from which no traveler re turns, an’ if I ain't mistook he's goin’ to get his brains back before he goes, for mostly these here kind o' cases happens that-a-way, as I has heard." What Cook says turns out true. One night when him an’ me is settin’ up, Jones kind o' shivers an’ lifts his head an’ looks at us like he ain't never seen no cow-men till just then, an’ kind o' brushes one pore bony hand across his eyes an’ says, ‘Light! Light at last!’ “Cook kind o' turns away an’ X kin see his shoulders shake, an’ asg. fur me I knows plum well I weaps, ‘I must 'a’ traveled awful fur,’ says Jones, ‘all in the dark, becuz I don't know where 1 am. I'm awful tired, an’ my head feels awful queer, hut God has showed me light at last.' He set up as he spoke, drawin' in hard on his breath an’ looked out through the open door, an’ as I looked I seen the tip o' Poncha Mount'in hangin’® up in the sky, lit up by the first peen o' sunshine o' the day, ar' then I hears a rustle an' I turns gn’ sees the pore broke wreck of what wuz once a man reach out his arms ah’ smile, an’ hardly flickerin’ his lips he whispers: ‘Where the wicked cease #rom troublin’ an’ the weary are at rest,” an’ drops back dead.” _ The foreman paused. There was a trace of mist behind his eyes. “We buried Jones,” he said, “on Poncha Mount'in an’ Short Leg Dwyer made a slab to set up at his head. ‘Loco Jones,’ it saye, that bein’ the only name we ever knowed him by. ‘He seen the light.’ "—From Outing Mag azine, :.000..0.....0..00..0.0.0: 8 THE TYPICAL INDIANS e e OF THE GREAT PLAINS 8 :00.1...0....0.0....0.000: The Northwest Plains Indian is, to the average person, the typical American Indian—powerful of phy sique, statesque, gorgeous in dress, with the bravery of the firm believer in predestination. The constant, fearless hunting and slaughtering of the buffalo trained him to the great est physical endurance, and gave an imbred desire for bloodshed. Thou sands of peace - loving, agricultural living Indians might climb down from their cliff-perched homes, till their miniature farms, attend their flocks, and at night-tim3 climb back up the winding stairs to their home in the clouds, and attract no aften tion. But if a fierce band of Sioux rushed down on a hapless emigrant train the world soon learned of it. The culture of all primitive peoples is necessarily determined by their environment. This, of course, means that all plaing tribes—though speak ing a score of languages—were, in life and manner, broadly alike. They were buffalo-hunting Indians, and only in rare cases did they give any attention to agriculture. Buffalo meat ,was their food, and the by products their clothing, tools and im plements. The plains tribes in earlier times were certainly true nomads. TFor a time, in the depths of winter, they camped in the shelter of some forest along the streams. Other than that, wherever roamed a herd of buffalo, there also wandered the bands of Northern Indians. The very existence of these tribes seemed bound to that of the buffalo. From the skins their lodges were built. With the hair on, the hides furnished the robes for the body, as well as mattresses and bed coverings. The meat, prepared in many ways, with the addition of a few roots and berries, furnished their entire food. Advancing civili zation has swept these countless herds from the face of the plains and left their human companions strand ed.—From “The Tribes cf the North west Plains,” by E. S. Curtis, in Scribner, ; WORDS OF WISDOM, Convictions are the bone of char acter, «.The men who are governed by eir_tastes are soon shgaled. A man is not right with-God whose till is locked to his fellow-men. The world is not all good save to the blind optimist, nor all ill save to the evil-minded. Living for getting never got any ‘body a living worth getting. ~ If the face of God is familiar, the face of man will bring no fear, It is possible to swallow every creed and still have the heartache. - If vou take the frosting off some sermons there won't be much cake left, Wink at a wrong to-day, and you’ll be taking its wages to-morrow. We would all rather hear a fool praise others than a wise man praise himself, A man loses his religious zeal when the church gives him soft words while he is fairly spoiling for hard work. It doesn’t take a very brave dog to bark at the bones of a lion. You cannot reflect the sun of righteousness when your face is clouded with gloom. Many are trying to get their hearts into paradise by putting their hands into other people’s pockets. People who live for public approval often die of private chagrin. Many a woman feeds her children on pickles and spices and then won ders where they get their depraved appetites.—Home Herald. Boats of Concrete. It is predicted that the use of con erete in boat-building will largely take the place of iron and steel. Large boats of reinforced concrete have been built already in Italy, and five of ‘these, of 120 tons and more, are in commission in the Italian navy. The first of these boats, a 120-ton barge, was built in 1906, on the plans of Mr. 'Gabellini, an Italian, who has given his whole attention to reinforced con crete, and for many years has been conducting experiments with this class of material. This boat, which was built with double bottom and of the cellular type, was submitted to Severe tests in the Spezie Arsenal, Where & much larger boat built of dron and with an iron ram was di rected against it without producing any considerable damage. After some time, and in consequence of the satis | factory results given by his first boat, four more of these barges were or dered on account of the Italian navy. Experiments and trials on a much Jarger and more important scale wili shortly *be conducted. — Harper's Weekly. - m—..—“ On March 31, 1908, the Japanese postoffice savings bank had $46,400,. 000 on deposit, an increase of $723.- 000 in one year, >y ' 3 Q e > ! 5 N LRSI AR e N :. B \ 7 \ e ( e (TERESTEIO-WOMEN i Zirel i hel VI vt > New York City.—Never has there' a prettier style been in vogue than that of the over biouse and it suits "; - —‘ . { IR N ‘ —i k ‘ \» :"'} O ‘ M\ 2 M 7 » \*, / W O ’ A AN L 7 YA AL ) % f//’" . "// qe4 £t i R A I .‘jl// I\ W) /)‘ %[ 7 i v ’ i . ! :/.'/') 417 & \".f ’ : ffn" A 4 '7"; / “PM A, GO | N TG AN - - s ths young girls so peculiarly well that it is a special favorite among the younger cogtingent. Here is one N — f«,/ SRR N% ¢ - ‘ \ ‘7/ / = \-t-:;“ = } ' /// b ‘i P ‘—\ sy = - Yoz L. i) \ " é%&g@ (A O A ¥ ( N 2 ; \'\ "// b= ,’zf ¢ S T T T e % 637 N Y = AN ..«.;5;&?.-'%521 . \\,‘a‘:;;\:;\‘.\';‘:-:“}-;\:%a‘, 0 A 7 \TR ROy A S TS N 2 L LIRS ) 798 c‘\ A N 8 T%. 28 ) 5 2 N k l‘l'z; L i \ /2N ;\'\J n J,r_“":“‘“\vl!iﬁ:u N : ;‘“\ (( v / SN ”\.\ i TS ‘-"-2'\__\_.‘3‘2;3’ > ) “§% 3 /RS No N~ ol ,?.’ & / 4 A A -/ - J AR NG \UM\/2 77 2N J‘"‘.(ﬁ‘a 72\ \ S 017 772== VIS N\ (g P d " \ = ‘\‘;\. N (o /" ! i R \ AN 2/ ( / \ %f‘ 3 RO /g y /‘2:!'.‘ \ \ 'h;:.‘,‘g»\ y't ) s Y \’\ hY I /'s!(»}‘\"\ ’f; 4 e y W A 1"’/// / ‘ 7 ~-—:',’v-:.\:\_ ‘\‘ \\ / / ;J’\ e S\ ) t,:f‘ GBI R Ry = \\\,‘l i / | m " )/ J(k\ / i | that is charmingly graceful and at | tractive and which can be utilized ieither separately or joined to the | skirt, making a semi<princesse dress |as liked. In the illustration the ma lterial is pongee with bands of taf | feta, while the centre front is made | of all-over embroidery, but ablmost | all materials that are used for girls’ idresses are appropriate and it will | be found equally satisfactory for the | thin materials of the present and ‘ for the slightly heavier ones of the | near future. .The centre-front por | tion is a feature and can be made of 1 anything in contrast. Bandings can | be utilized, and some of the Oriental | effects are exceedingly handsome, ! while again, the bands on the blouse itself can be cut from any contrasting l‘ material or could be of the same em | broidered or braided with soutache, | or banding could be applied over | them, | The blouse is made with the fronts, i centre front and backs. The sleeves | are-cut in one with it and there are | trimming straps which conceal the | shoulder seams while the shaped {strap finishes the neck, front and | back edges. The closing is made in | visibly at the back. | The quantity of material required | for the sixteen year size is two and | seven-eighth yards twenty-one or | twenty-four, two yards thirty-two or 2 Embroidered Net, | An exceedingly pretty touch is giv 'en the hand-embroidered waist by | basting a fine net under certain fig | ires before embroidering them, cuty, |ting out the material afterward ) | that the figures appear to be of em | broidered net. e ‘ Hair Worn Plain. l On occasions when hats are dis | carded the bhalr is worn plain, or indorned with beads or paillettes, the | ribbons being quite abandoned, L one and one-half yards forty-foup inches wide with one-half yarq e'ght. een inches wide for the centre front three-quarter yard thirty-two incpeq wide for the centre front, three-quay. tep ¥ard thirty-two inches wide for the trimming to make as illustrataq, "~ Velvet Trimming, An acceptable trimming for tail ored and semi-tailored costumeg is a thin weave of chiffon velvet. Child’s Reefer, There is no coat worn by the smal} girl that quite takes the place of the reefer. It is very generally hecom. ing, it is simple yet absolutely smart ‘in effect and it can be slipped on ang off with the greatest possible eago, 'This one {s made of white serge wiy collar and cuffs of Copenhagen blue, but the model can be utilized ¢or every material that is in vogue for little girls’ coats. White is always pretty and attractive, but dark req, dark and medium blues and mixtureg are all in vogue, while for the reat warm weather linen, pique ang pongee all are liked. The little coat is made simply with the loose fronts and back and with the big sailor collar. The shield when worn is buttoned into place be- neath the collar and closed at the back. The full sleeves are finished with rcll-over cuffs, but the plain ; : SARAT) ; S, ALY o S -”r'\iiéa NS, =% i % ﬂ‘,,’r ' 9 .c' ~ 3 “\ b)) 4 Yea /,,:,, ¥ f r T L 1 ’ l s g ]i/ | S -~ || b e | ot ‘a’l.m'; g, T b’;"j ‘\“u “ B ‘@3{% A Pt | < G| |¢ e i AT Vel 1 . | o \ | p B\ ﬁ! b () f 830 of », >)”) .' ( / ones are simply stitched to simulate straight ones. The quantity of material required for the medium size (six years) is three and one-eighth yards twenty seven, one and three-quarter yards forty-four or one and one-half yards fifty-two inches wide with one-half yard forty-four inches wide for col far and cuffs. Hat Ribbons. New hat ribbons show an immense white polka dot on deep colored back grounds, such as dark red, navy blue, golden brown and greed. Three yards will make a generous bow.