Norwalk gazette, Friday, October 15, 1897 · page 10

 

 

 

RAIN AND SHINE?“

'me ‘ i5?

 

When the storm is blowin’
‘ Do not curse your lot;
If it wasn’t snowin'
Might be blazin' 1101:!

When the sun is peltin'
Firebrands-don‘t scold l
If it wasn’t meltin'
Might be freezin’ coldl

Take life as you find it—
See'the rainbow curled l

Trouble ? never mind it—
Good Lord runs the world 3

THE TWO MORTONS.

Dolly is the most maddening, tan-
talizing, perverse and charming—l
might as well admit it, you’d soon
have found it out—young woman of
my acquaintance. I’ve been in love
with her for five years, and it’s a won-
der my hair isn’t white; sometimes I
think it is turning gray, but when I
spoke to Dolly about it, she said, not
to bother, I was old enough to be gray
any way. Ah! that’s where 'Dolly
hurts, and she knows it, for I am fif-
teen years old than she is, and when
that wilful young woman wishes to be
particularly cruel she treats me with
respect.

One night I was desperate. I had
sent her violets as usual—as he is par-
ticularly fond of them, and most of my
money goes that way. Sometimes she
wears them, and often carries them,
but this night they -were nowhere to be
seen, and in her hand was one large
red rose. I went to her; appearing to
be sorry to see me was the particular
form of torture which commended it-
self to her on this especial night.

“You here!” she said, lifting her
eyebrows, in astonishment, and with-
out a smile; all put on, of course, be-
cause I am always where she is.

“Oh, no, I’m not here, I’m some-
where else,” I said, wittily.

She laughed immoderately.

“You’re—so—funny,” she remarked,
choking.

“Yes,” said I, severely, “I suppose ,I
am funny, very funny—but where are
my violets?”

“Why, had you—any—violets?” said
she. “I didn’t know—how should I
know?”

She said it seriously, but there was
alook in her eyes that I was used to;
I’d have liked to shake her.

“Dolly, you know exactly what I
mean; where are my violets?”

“If you mean the violets you sent
me,” she replied, with dignity, “I un-
derstood that after they left you they
belonged to me; do you want them
back?” This freezingly.

“Oh, Dolly,” I said, reduced once
more to my usual condition of asinin-
ity. “I didn’t mean it, dear, I don’t
want the d—I beg your pardon, of
course I don’t want them; I only want-
ed you to wear them or carry them,
you know, darling.”

But she saw that she had the best of
me, so carried’things with a high hand.

I‘ 1

“The rose was sent me by a friend,” ~

she hesitated, “and I suppose I have
a right to wear what I please; but sit
down, don’t stand so long, you’ll be
tired!”

This was an illusion to my age, and
it maddened me.

“You are exceedingly rude!" I said,
turning away and leaving her.

It was the most severe speech I had
ever made to Dolly, and I suffered at
the thought of it. For four days I
didn’t go near her or send her violets
once. It was an awful four days.

Finally I wrote to her, fully con-
scious that it was a very silly letter,
wherein I told her I was merely angry
at myself for not knowing she cared
for red roses, and I sent three dozen.
The letter-I received was one charac-
teristic of Dolly.

A few days after I had been such a.
card to Dolly I called upon her, and
heaven favoring me, I found her alone.

“Dolly, dearest,” I began, “I am so
sorry—”

"Don’t,” she said, “that incident is
closed. There are so many nicer
things to talk about; Jane Hunt, for
instance.”

'I shivered; I was about to be pun-
ished.

“Is she nicer?” said I.

“What dg,y_o,u really think of her?”
said Dolly, with rather an anxious
look, I thought; of course I was mis-
taken.

“0h, she’s a very good girl, very.

good!” with a desperate desire to make
Dolly jealous, if I could, which I
could not. ,

"Is she?” Dolly tossed her head.
“Well, Mr. Morton, do you want to
know what I think she looks like?”
The .i“Mr. Morton” was ominous; I
shivered again.

“I_think she. looks like a cook!” she
declared triumphantly, while I, in-
wardly agreeing, protested,—

“Splendid wife she’s made!” said I,
not meaning to rouse Dolly.

But suddenly she turned and said the
most terrible thing to me that she’d
ever said since I’d known her.

“Then you’d better marry her!”
This from Dolly.

"Oh-——” I began, but she was gone,
and there was nothing for me to do,
but to pickup my hat and go, which I
did, calling myself a. beast and a brute
as,I went.

That night leaving the theatre we
happened to meet a moment. She was
radiant and scornful.‘

“Dolly,” I said, resolving not to no-
tice the contretemps of the afternoon,
“who are_,you going. to dance the co-
tillion with at the Terrys’ to-morrow
night?”

‘With Mr. Morton,”
sweetly.

“What a dear you are—I was afraid
you’d promised, somebody else.”

And-7 then she laughed.

“With the ,pleasant, agreeable Mr.
Morton,” she’ continued, “who never
says the wrong thing." '

' And then I knew she meant the oth-
e’r,,9nei I’m afraid] said a. bad word;

.I-.,-n"""'-’" ““* 9;:

she answered

_ ram—:1

 

 

 

w nanny - nonwAnk - GAZETTE-

her mocking laugh followed me in the
darkness, and echoed in my dreams
that night. I wished I’d never seen
her—and took it back immediately.

I debated a long time within my—
self whether or not I should go to the
Terry’s, but as usual ended by going.
I could dance stag and take Dolly out,
and—lovely idea—perhaps she would
take me out! Then as I thought of
the way I had left her the night be-
fore, this beautiful hope faded. What
would she want with a brute like me?

I never saw her look better than that
night of the Terry’s dance; she was
in White, which best became her, and
she seemed to me like an angel. And
that beastly Morton looked pretty well
too. I had to admit to myself that he
was rather a well appearing chap.

Mrs. Floyd Hopkins, who aspires to
be something of a belle herself, stood
for a moment and followed the di-
rection of my glance.

“Miss Dalrymple is looking particu-
larly well this evening,’ said she,a very
gracious speech, indeed, for her.

“Very!” I replied, having sense
enough left not to discuss Dolly with
a woman.

“But what an awful flirt,” she went
on; this left me gasping.

“And engaged, I understand, to Mr.
Morton all the time.”

“Who said it?” I asked hoarsely.
Dolly engaged—and to that—cad—
with my name.

. “0h, everybody says so,” and then
she looked at me with such an un-
pleasant smile. “That’s your name
too, isn’t it?” ‘

“Yes, I believe it is,” I said brilliant-
ly, moving away from her.

Dolly engaged! I couldn’t grasp the
full significance of it; the thought left
me dazed and bewildered. This very
night would decide it. I would go to
her and ask her if there was any truth
in it. Just then she came toward me
as if she was going to take me out, but
something in my face must have stop-
ped her.

“What is the matter?” she said,
turning a little white.
“Dolly,’ I said, sternly, “will you

give me the first two dances after sup-
per?”

“Of course-——if you want them; but
won’t you dance now?”

I never saw Dolly so meek before.

“No,” I answered almost roughly,
“not now.” She left me with a
strange look in her sweet face.

It seemed centuries until supp-er; I
tried to think of what I should say to
her, but my mind was in such a cha-
otic state that I decided to depend on
the inspiration of the moment.

At last supper was over and I found
her, tucked her arm in mine, and
marching off to a quiet nook, put her
in the only seat, and stood; accusingly
before her.

“Dolly,” I began, “look at me!”

This she did, a little timidly, I
thought, and I almost forgot what I
was going to say in the joy of looking
ather.

“My darling,” I went on, “I have
loved you so long, so well, and hoped
that in the course of years you might
come to care—4’ she dropped her
eyes; just then I remembered that hor-
rible gossip, “but to-night, Dolly, I
heard something that turned my heart
to stone.”

“What was it?” she asked.

“That you were engaged to—-—-”

“Who?" breathlessly.

“Morton,” I grasped, “that wretched
caddish—”

"Stop!” she said, with dignity.

“Tell me, you shall.” I grasped her
wrists, “is it so?"

If it had been any woman in the
world but Dolly I should have said she
was embarrassed. She actually
blushed.

“No,” she said, slowly, “it is not so,
but —” her hands went up and cov-
ered her face. My heavens! suppose
she should cry.

“But what?” I insisted cruelly;
“you’re not engaged to him, but you’re
in love with him?” ‘

She took her hands away and her
face was very red; if it had not been
such a serious moment I should have
said she had been laughing.

“Mr. Morton has—never—esked me
to be his—wife—if he does—I shall

I was beside myself.

“And if he does?’ ’I hissed.

“I shall say yes," very softly.

A terrible silence ensued; the earth
was-sinking beneath my feet.

"You love Mr. Morton?’
sharply.

And then the very queerest thing in
the world happened; Dolly’s face whit-
ened a little, as she rose and put out
her band.

“Yes, you old goose," she said, “I
love this Mr. Morton!"

It didn’t take me long to gather Dol—
.f' int03my- arms. The next five min-

tes are not to apepar in this narra-
.ive.

“Dolly,” said I blissfully, “did you

ver know such a stupid old fool as

am?"

"Never in all my life,” said the
weeest of. girls, her, voice coming

"03?. the vicinity of my coat collar.

“And do you suppose that woman

iegznz'me when she told me that gos-

ip, my darling?”

“C. course she—did,” said the voice,

in?" in. glad she said it—I don’t be-
;‘tu’d ever have asked me, other-

I said.

C‘tic

. "newer would not look well on
o you know, Dick, that you never
we asked me before?”
_: 1.6. when I came to think of it, I
e. . er had—The Peterson Magazine.
Ila—“llfhen you were abroad, Miss
- 'fll'Vel’HJe, how did you like the Milt-
“l horn?” , _
She—”i—l don’t believe I heard it."
Harper’s Bazar-
‘ Jam-In ”f ‘— M’sm-QIW,

l

r SALTS-AND enemas, 7'

A Great Increase in Width the Fetturo oi
the Season.

(By Special Arrangement with the N. Y.Sun.)

In the width of the belt there is to
be a decided increase. The narrow-
est shown are two generous inches in
width. While the widest are deep gir-
dles reaching half the distance between
the arms and the waist line. Materi-
als for belts are more varied than ever
before. All sorts and colors of leath-
er will be used, while-the fabric belts
will include even those of velvet. Vel-
vet belts are, as a rule, several inches
in width, and fastened by leather
straps and leather—covered buckles
They are not particularly elegant, and
certainly add to, rather than take
from, the size of the waist. That one

quality is considered by the dealers
sufficient to prevent their wide popular-
ity, though they are among the very
latest things in belts. .H

 

In leather black and the many
shades of brown promise to almost su-
persede the many bright shades of
green, blue, and red that have been
so popular. The buckles of these belts
are likewise- much less conspicuous.
The harness buckle in glaring silver or
gilt Will not be used, and when not
leather-covered to match the material
of the belt, the buckle will be of metal
and almost as inconspicuous.

For fancy girdles satin and taffeta
silk are the favorite materials. They
are made with points, either before or
behind, or both, while some are plain,
fastening in front, just a little to the
left, with a large upstanding bow.
Other girdles, so deep as to only need
.the addition of shoulder straps to
serve as bodices, are made of bias silk
or satin, fit as snugly to the waist as
possible, and are closed at the seam un-
der the arm.

 

The walking gown in the illustration
is of fancy gray cloth. The high Med-
ici collar and long pointed revers are
of white satin, and have silver and
steel passementerie. The delicate
braided pattern that is carried about
the hem of the skirt and the basque is
of a lighter tone of the blue gray. The
vest is tucked across, and is of silk of
the same shade as the braided pattern
on the skirt.

 

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Who can get along well without a
tea gown? This model is made of
cream silk gauze, with a flowered
stripe through it. The flowers shade
from mauve to a deep red, with touch-
es of pale green. A broad taffeta rib-
bon confines the gown at the waist
and is of the green tone of the under-
dress; long net scorres hang from a.
lace collar. The‘ same net is used iii

and the long tucked sleeves. Most of
the gowns have a touch of black some-
where about them. ' .

I The revival of the old fashion of let.-
tingfan-shaped pieces of silk into the
gores of the skirts is finding great fa-

th-e frill about the bottom of the skirt a

 

h

flu- Only One \Vhich the Queen Ever Dec-
orated with the Iron Cross.

One of the most interesting features
)f the Jubilee procession was a small
white" Arabian mare, which attracted
is much attention as the Lord Mayor
iimself. Her name is Tel-el-Kebir,
she is 22 years old and was ridden by
Field Marshal the Right Honorable
Lord Roberts, who also rode her when
are commanded the British troops in
:he famous battle in Egypt, after which
she is named. Around her neck was
i. broad band of red, white and' blue
ribbon, from which hung a gold medal
)f honor and the iron, Victoria cross,
:wo decorations which 'are bestowed
9y her Majesty only as a reward for
icts of the greatest gallantry and mil-
.tary service of unusual importance.
General Roberts has ridden the mare
:hrough three campaigns in Egypt and
the Soudan, and she is said to have
saved the life of this famous soldier,
who is second only to Lord Wolseley,
in two occasions. She is a very small
mineral, and General Roberts is a very
imall man. For the last four years
I‘el-el-Kebir has been kept in the sta-
bles of the Horse Guards and has .e-
geived as much attention as her owner.
She is the only horse that was ever
iecorated by Queen Victoria, and it
was, therefore, appropriate that she
should have a place in the procession.
—Chicago Herald.

The Needs of the Negro.

The power of the ballot, says W. E.
B. Du Bois in the Atlantic, we need in
sheer self-defense, and as a guarantee
of good faith. We may misuse, it, but
we can scarce do worse in this respect
than our whilom msters. Freedom,
too, the long—sought, we still seek,—
the freedom of life and limb, the free—
dom to work and think. Work, cul-
ture, and liberty—all these we need,
not singly but together; for to-day
these ideas among the Negro people
are gradually coalescing, and finding
a higher meaning in the unifying ideal
of race,——the ideal of fostering the trait
and talents of the Negro, not in op-
position to, but in conformity with, the
greater ideals of the American re-
public, in order that some day, on
American soil, two world races may
give each to each those characteristics
which both so sadly lack. Already
we come not altogether empty—handed;
there is 3 to-day no true American
music but the sweet wild melodies of
the Negro slave; the American fairy
tales are Indian and African; we are
the sole oasis of simple faith and rev—
erence in a dusty desert of dollars and
smartness. Will America he poorer if
she replace her brutal, dyspeptic
blundering Negro humility; or her
coarse, cruel wit with loving, jovial
good humor; or her Annie Rooney
with Steal Away?

Simply a stern concrete test of the
underlying principles of the great re-
public is the Negro problem, and the
spiritual striving of the freedmen’s
sons is the travail of souls whose bur~
den is almost beyond the measure of
their strength, but who bear it in the
name of an historic race, in the name
of this the land of their fathers’
fathers, and in the name of human op.
portunity.

 

Women in Kansas

Yet it is said that Kansas is gov-
erned by petticoats, says William
Allen White in the Atlantic. If by
this it be meant that women shape the
public sentiment of the Kansas town,
the saying is true. In most towns in
other States, the corners of the prin-
cipal streets are occupied by dram-
shops. In the town where the paper
is written, the influence of women has
been exerted so forcibly that three of
the four corners where the two main

Instead of Hogan’s Retreat on the
fourth corner, stands a bookstore.
There the boys and the young men of
the town find a meeting-place. There

“they make their appointments. There

they browse through the weekly i1-
lustrated papers and the magazines,
and look through new beaks. In this
bookstore the football games and bul-
letined, the baseball games are talked
over, and politics finds its forum.
Among all the men and boys who fre-
fuent this resort there is no habitual
drinker; there is pot one whose name
has been stained with scandal. These
young fellbws are business men,
clerks, professional men, real estate
brokers, and college students. They
are clean, shrewd, active young men,
who have been brought up in a town
where the women make public senti-
ment, wherein a woman has never
held an administrative municipal of-
fice. It is a town of eight thousand
inhabitants without a saloon, without
a strange woman, without a town
drunkard.
Saved by His Wit.

Needy Ned—Kind sir, would you
give a' poor man 'a dime to help support
a. wife and family? '

Mr. Worthy.———Why, I gave‘ you a
dime yesterday to help bury a wife and
family.

Needy Ned.——Yes, sir.
another wife and family.

 

But. this is;

 

WHEN TWO MEE .

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“Charge nearly strangled me With
kisses when I'accepted his p1‘0pOS;li."

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“Oh, he always .does that.”

VlCTORlA HONORS A HORSE...“

streets cross are occupied by banks.-

 

 

n'mve o‘Olm-k Tea. ,

No style of, dress offers such a wid
field for the displayof- pesonal taste
and fancy, as the five o’ciozk tea gown
For the most part, Soft, clinging wcol-
en materials are used for the purpose,
and are richly trimmed with lace, rib-
bon, or any other fashionable trim-
ming. At present the Empire style is
most favored and its flowing amplitude
of material is very becaming to most
figures. The robe is made of yellow
crape, the bodice shows the short pos-
tillion cut, and the sleeves are half

 

 

long, and arranged in narrow over
wrapping tucks; a dark red velvet
jacket slashed back and front, and
with rounded espaulette entirely bor-
dered with gold braid, worn over the
short waist. Wings broad lace are set
direct on the high Medicis collar, and
the becoming sleeve frills are of simil-
ar lace. The finely plissed skirt is set
direct on to the, waist, a loose sash of
light blue crepe de chine with long
ends and bows being tied over the
joining. A tortoise shell comb inlaid
with gold is stuck in the hair.

 

 

Toilette \Vith I’lissed Basque.

A model toilette of natural-colored
crimped muslin, now so fashionable,
is mounted on mauve taffetas. White
machine-made embroidery is used on

 

‘Srdunwem-vmstefisbuc-

full front. of bodice—also to be made
by hand—composed of sprigs and sin-
gle scattered leaves between.

Famous Bed Hangings.

The hangings of the bedstead indi»
cated in the illustration come from the
Phillipine Islands, and report has it
that they were worked by the order of
Don Alphonso XII. for presentation to
his wife Mercedes, subsequently com-

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"fMUSfED‘HANGmQ'

ing into the possession of the Duchess
of Santona. They are embroidered on

cream satin with a floral design in
colored silks, and amid the foliations
are dragons worked in gold thread,
showing a curious and happy wed-
ding of Chinese and Spanish traditions.

__——_.———

 
 

 
 
 

 
 

 

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A Foseorfan Fasslosuvf

No Stone to Man]: the Resting Place of
John Tyler.

With monuments costing thousands
cf dollars adorning the graves of some
of the most obscure individuals, it.is
hard to realize that a man once Presi-
dent of the United States lies buried in
Hollywood Cemetery here. without
even a mark for his grave. But such
is the case. John Tyler, of “Tippe—
canoe and Tyler, Too” fame, lies sleep-
ing in an obscure place, and the only
way in which the place he rests is
known is that it is in the same lot
with the grave of his daughter, who
died before he did, and over whom a
“figure” monument was erected.

There is an interesting mystery sur-

 

rounding the neglect to memorialize.

this man who was the honored Chief
Executive of or country for nearly
four years. John Tyler, whose father
was known as the “bosom friend” of
Thomas Jefierson, died in 1862, and in
his will, dated October 10, 1859; was
the following provision:

“I empower my dear wife to make
out of my estate suitable provision
for my burial, and let my body be
consigned to the tomb in the earth of
the country where I was born, there
to repose until the day of resurrection,
My wife will select the spot in Sher-
wood Forest (his residence) and mark
It by an uncostly monument of granite
or marble. An inscription will be
found in the paper inclosing this."

Little did the ex-President dream
that after this modest request for the
disposal of his body his grave would
be so wretchedly neglected by his ad-
miring countrymen, and it evidently
was not the intention, for the General
Assembly of Virginia, immediately af-
ter his death, adopted a suitable testi-
monial, which closed as follows:~

“Resolved, That, with the consent of
his family, his remains be deposited
in Hollyw00d Cemetery, in the city of
Richmond, near the remains of James
Monroe, and that the Governor of this
State be authorized to cause a suitable
monument to be erected to his mem-
ory.”

This explains how President Tyler’s

 
 

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‘

 

body came to be placed in Hollywood ‘

Cemetery, though he requested other-
wise, and the explanation for the
neglect of his grave probably lies in
the fact that about that time the Gov-
ernor of the Old‘ Dominion State had
his hands full. with Rebellion—Cor.
Pittsburg Dispatch. ‘

GOPHERS DESTROY A CANAL.

An Oklahoma City Enterprise Ruined by
the Pesky Animals.

Gophers have destroyed a $10,000
canal at Oklahoma City. The recent
filling up of the canal where it passes
through the southern part of the town
is the end of what once promised to
be the most remunerative enterprise in
Oklahoma.

Public-spirited capitalists believed

that the waters of the rapidly flowing
North Canadian river could be used to
operate all the mills that could be
placed on its banks at Oklahoma City.
Engineers were employed to make a
survey, and it was said that a canal
five miles long could be made to carry
the water that ran a distance of twen<
ty miles by the sinuous course of the
river. The fall was nearly thirty feet,
enough, it was believed, to develop
2000 horse power.
*- More than $40,000 was expended in
constructing the canal. It was diked
part of the way and the river was
crossed twice. The canal was twenty—
five feet wide and four feet deep. Its
completion was an occasion of import-
ance: in Oklahoma City. Four inches
of water were let in the head-gate and
the electric light plant and a large
flouring mill was run as if by magic.

Auunsuspected enemy, small in size,
but prodigious in industry, soon over-
whelmed the enterprise in disaster.
The banks of the canal were of por-
ous, sandy soil. Gophers attacked the
dike. A hole no larger than a. man's
wrist, burrowed by these animals,
widened into a. crevice in half an hour,
and the water easily swept away the
sandy dikes. The repairs were con-
stant and costly. The promoters grew
discouraged. The money panic swept
over the country and the canal was
a. wreck. Its flood gates are gone and
the masonry is'a pile of debris—New
York Sun.

—.—————-———
CLLAY’S REMARKABLE MEMORY.

Know the Man Who Had Given Him a
Verdict as Juror 21 Years Before.

It is said that no man ever had a
more marvelous memory for faces
than Henry Clay. The instances
given to prove this are numberless.

On one occasion he was on his way
to Jackson, Miss, and the cars stopped
for a short time at Clinton. Among
the crowd who pressed forward was
one vigorous old man who insisted
that Mr. Clay would recognize him
He had lost one eye..

“Where did I know you?” asked Mr.
Clay, fixing a keen glance on this man.

“In Kentucky,” was the reply.

“Had you lost your eye before then,
or have you lost it since?" was the
next question. ’ ’

“Since,” answered the old man.

“Turn the sound side of ydur face to
me so I can see your profile,” said Mr.
Clay, peremptorily, and the man
obeyed. “I have it!” said Mr. Clay,
after a moment’s scrutiny of the pro»
file. “Didn’t you give me a verdict as
juror. at Frankfort. Ky., in the fa-
mous, case of the United .States versus
Innis, twenty-one years ago?”

“Yes, sir!” cried the old man, tremb-
ling with delight.

“And isn’t your name Hardwicke
queried Mr. Clay, after another min--
ute

0”
4'

“-I told you he’d remember me: "',

cried the old man, turning "to the
crowd. “He never forgets a face, nev-
er forgets a ,face!’?e¥outh’s Compan-
ion; «.- '

.g