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i&tXf f: Ultu« •ncr^ CHAPTER XX--Continue*. --1«-- "What Is It you want to know?" iSherrili asked. "What were the relation! between Benjamin Oorvet and Captain Stafford r Sherrlll thought a moment. : "CorvetV he replied, "wm a very able roan; he had Insight and mental #, ,%rasp--and he had the fault which >* jNsometimes goes with those, a hesitancy i',V "'«f action. Stafford was an able man, , / >;*oo, considerably younger than Corvet. fTwenty years ago, when the conflict f competing interests was at Its height, Corvet was the head of one . Ine, Stafford was head of another, and Sthe two lines had very much the same 'iconnections and competed for the same ^cargoes." , . • • . < "I begin' to seer* Father Perron exclaimed. "Please go on." "In the early nineties both lines still If;; /.'Were young; Stafford had, I believe, ; two ships; Corvet had three." ^ "So few? Yes; it grows plainer!" "In 1894, Stafford managed a stroke C ^ , 'which. If fate had not intervened, must *1p^Y"l»ave assured the ultimate extinction fv.i " of Corvet's line or its absorption into ^ Stafford's. Stafford gained as his partt ner Franklin Ramsdell, a wealthy man whom he had convinced that the lake „ traffic offered chances of great profit; ||f, and this connection supplied him with the capital whose lack had been hampering him, as it was still hampering Corvet. The new firm--Stafford and 'B f If'K % Js " mt ' K f lie Ramsdell--projected the construction, %>• with Ramsdell's money, of a number 3 of great steel freighters. The first of these--the Mlwaka, a test ship whose experience was to guide them in the construction of the rest--was launched in the fall of 1895, and was lost on its «• maiden trip with both Stafford and l Ramsdell aboard. The Stafford and U Ramsdell interests could not survive |th e death of both owners and dlsap- V peared frcw the lakes. Is this what £ you wanted to know 7" 'f;:f The priest nodded. Alan leaned /• tensely forward, watching; what he / had heard seemed to have increased and deepened the priest's feeling over what he had to tell and to have aided y his comprehension of it. tlH "His name was Caleb Stafford," Father Perron o began. "(This is what Benjamin Corvet told to me when he /"I was dying under the wreckage on the . ferry.) 'He was as fair and able a / man as the lakes ever knew. I had ' my will of most men In the lake trade in those days; but I could not have my will of him. With all the lakes to , ;trade in, he had to pick out for his that / traffic which I already had chosen for <?my own. But I fought him fair, Fa- • ther--I fought him fair, and I would . jhave continued to do that to the end. " 'I was at Manistee, Father, in the end of the season--December fifth of 1S96. The ice had begun to form very . early that year and was already bad; there was cold and a high gale. I had laid up one of my ships at Manistee, /-and I was crossing that night upon a tug to Manitowoc where another was to be laid up. I had still a third one loading up oo the northern peninsula at • Manistlque tor a last trip which, If it ^ could be made, would mean a good profit from a season which so far, because of Stafford's competition, had been only fair. After leaving Mania- ; tee, it grew stin more cold, and I was afraid the ice would close In on her \ and keep her where -*he was, so I determined to go north that night and see that she got out Jione knew. Father, except those aboard the tug,'that I bad made that change. t " 'At midnight. Father, to westward of the Foxes, we heard the four blasts dt a steamer in distress--the four long blasts which have sounded In my soul ever since! We turned toward where we saw the steamer's lights; we went nearer and. Father, It, was his great ship--the Mlwaka 1 We had heard two days before that she had passed the Boo; we had not known more than that of where she was. She had broken her new shaft, Father, and was intact except for that, but belplfeu In the rising The priest broke off. "The Mlwaka! I did not understand all that that had meant to him until Just now--the new ship of the rival line, whose building meant for Aim failure and defeat! "There is no higher duty than the rescue of those in peril at sea. He-- Benjamin Corvet, who told me this-- swore to me that, at the beginning none upon the tug had any thought except to give aid. A small line was drifted down to the tug and to this a hawser was attached which they hauled aboard. There happened then the first of those events which led those upon the tug into doing a great wrong. He--Benjamin Corvet--had taken charge of the wheel of the. tug; three men were handling the hawser In ice and washing water at the stern. The whistle accidentally blew, which those oo the Mlwaka understood to mean that the hawser had been secured, so they drew in the slack; the hawser, tightened unexpectedly by the pitching of the sea, caught and crushed the captain and deckhand of the tug •nd threw them Into the sea. "Because they were short-handed now upon the tug, and also because consultation was necessary over what *° b® done, the young owner of the Mlwaka, Captain Stafford, came down the hawser onto the tug after the line had been put straight. He came to the wheelhouse, where Benjamin , Corvet was, and they consulted. Then ) Benjamin Corvet learned that the other owner was aboard the new ship as well--Ramsdell--the man whose , iMney ^ou have Just told me had baUt mm this and was soon to build other ships. I did not understand before why learning that affected him so much. "'Stafford wanted us' (this Is what Benjamin Corvet said) 'to tow him up the lake; I would not do that, but I agreed to tow him to Manistlque. The night was dark. Father--no snow, but frightful wind which had been increasing until It now sent the waves washing clear across the tug. We had gone north an hour when, low upon the water to my right, I saw a light, and there came to me the whistling of a buoy which told me that we were passing nearer than I would have wished, even in daytime, to windward of Boulder reef. There are, Father, no people on that reef ; its sides of ragged rock go straight down forty fathoms into the lake. *"I looked sit the man with me In the wheelhouse--at Stafford--and hated him! I put my head out at the wheelhouse door and looked back at the lights, at the new, great steamer following safe and straight at the end of Its towline. I thought of my two men upon the tug who had been crushed by clbmsiness of those on board that ship; and how my own ships had had a name for never lostng a man and that name would be lost now because of the carelessness of Stafford's men I And the sound of the shoal brought the evil thought to me. Suppose I had not happened across his ship; would It have gone upon some reef like this and been lost? I thought that if now the hawser should break, I would be rid of that ship and pephaps of the owner who was on boara as well. We could not pick up the tow line again in so close to the reef. The steamer would drift down upon the rocks--'" Father Perron hesitated an instant. "1 bear witness," he said solemnly, "that Benjamin Corvet assured me-- his priest--that it was only a thought; the evil act which it suggested was something which he would not do or even think of doing. But he spoke something of what was in his mind to Stafford, for he said: *"I must look like a fool to yon to keep on towing your ship 1' "They stared, he told me, into one another's eyes, and Stafford grew uneasy. " •We'd have been all right,* he answered, 'until we had got help, If you'd left us where we were!' He, too, listened to the sound of the buoy and of the water dashing on the shoal. 'You are taking us too close,' he said--too close!' He went aft then to look at the tow line." Father Perron's voice ceased; what he had to tell now made his face whiten as he arranged it in his memory. Alan leaned forward a little and then, with an effort, sat straight. Constance turned and gazed at him; but be dared not look at her. He felt her hand warm upon his; it rested there a moment and moved away. "There was a third man In the wheelhouse when these things were spoken," Father Perron said, "the mate of the ship which Jaad been laid up at Manistlque." "Henry Spearman," Sherrlll supplied. "That is the name. Benjamin Corvet told im of that man that he was young, determined, brutal and set upon getting position and wealth for himself by any means. He watched Corvet and Stafford while they were speaking, and he, too. listened to the shoal until Stafford had come hack; than, be went aft. 'I looked at him. Father,' Benjamin Corvet said to me, 'and I let him go-- not knowing. He came back and looked at me once more, and went again to the stern; Stafford had been watching him as well as I. and sprang away from me now and scrambled after him. The tug leaped suddenly; there was no longer any tow holding It back, for the hawser had parted; and I knew, Father, the reason was that Spearman had cut it! " 'I rang for the engine to be slowed, and I left the wheel and went aft; some struggle was going on at the stem of the tug; a flash came from there and the bracking of a shot. Suddenly all was light about me as, aware of the breaking of the hawser and alarmed by the shot, the searchlight of the Mlwaka turned upon the tug. The cut end of the hawser was still upon the tug, and Spearman had been trying to clear fhis when Stafford attacked him; they fought, and Stafford struck Spearman down. He turned and cried out against me--accusing me of having ordered Spearman to cut the line. He held up the cut end toward Ramsdell on the Mlwaka and cried out to him and showed by pointing that it had been cut. Blood was running from the hand with which he pointed, for he had been shot by Spearman; and now again and a second and a third time, from where he lay upon the deck. Spearman fired. The second of those shots killed the engineer, who had rushed out where I was on the deck; the third shot went through Stafford's head. The Mlwaka was drifting down upon the reef; her whistle sounded again and again the four long blasts. The fireman, who had followed the engineer up from below, fawned on met I was safe for all him, he said; I could trust Luke--Luke would not tell! He too thought I had ordered the doing of that thing I " 'From the Mlwaka, Ramsdell yelled curses at roe, threatening me for what he thought that I had done I I looked at Spearman as he got up from the deck, and I read the thought that had been la him; he had believed that he i cuuJ^a^ to (be dark, nap* k sOrengtbafc injr ,$fcald make. He had known that to Share a secret such as that with me would "make" him on the lakes; for the loss of the Mfwaka would cripple Stafford and Ramsdell and strengthen 9»e; and he could make me share with him whatever I made. But Stafford bad surprised him at tha hawser and had seen. " *1 moved to denounce him. Father, as I realized this; fl moved--but stopped. He had made himself safe against accusation by me! None-- none ever would believe that he had done this except by my order, If he should claim that; and he made plain that he was going to claim that. He called me a fool and defied me. Luke --even my own man, the only one left on the tug with us--believed It I And there was murder tn It now, with Stafford dying there upon the deck and with the. certainty that all those on the Mlwaka could not be saved. I felt the noose as If It had been already tied about my neck! And I had done no wrong, Father! I- bad only thought wrong S v : ' " 'So h>n£ as one lived among those on the Mlwaka who had seen what was dqne. I knew I would be hanged; yet I would have saved them If 1 could. But, in my comprehension of what this meant, I only stared at Stafford where he lay and then at Speartnan, and I let him get control of the tug. The tug, whose wheel I had lashed, heading her into the waves, had been moving slowly. Speafman pushed me aside and went to the wheelhouse; he sent Luke to the engines, and from that moment Luke was his. He turned the tug about to where we still saw the lights of the Miwaka. The steamer had struck upon the reef; she hung there for a time; and Spearman--he had the wheel and Luke, at his orders, was at the engine--held the tug off and we beat slowly to and fro until the Mlwaka slipped off and sank. Some had gone down with her, no doubt; but two boats had got off,, carrying lights. They saw the tug approaching and cried out and stretched their hands to us; but Spearman stopped the tug. They rowed toward us then, but when they got bear. Spearman moved the tug awayfrom them, "Constance!" He Caught Her. Let Him Hold Her. and then again stopped. They cried out again and rowed toward us; again he moved the tug away, and then they understood and Btopped rowing and cried curses at us. One boat soon drifted far away; we knew of/its capsizing by the extinguishing of Its light. The other capsized near to where we were. Those in it who had no lifebelts and could not swim, sank first. Some could swim and, for a while tliey fought the waves.'" Alan, as he listened, ceased consciously to separate the priest's voice from the sensations running through him. His father was Stafford, dying at Corvet's feet while Corvet watched the death of the crew of the Mlwaka; Alan himself, a child, was floating with a. lifebelt among those struggling in the water whom Spearman and Corvet were watching die. Memory; was It that which now had come to him? No; rather it was a realization of all the truths which the priest's words were bringing together and arranging rightly for him. Alan's father died in the morning. All day they stayed out In the storm, avoiding vessels. They dared not throw Stafford's body overboard or that of the engineer, because, If found, the bullet holes would have aroused Inquiry. When night came again, they bad taken the two ashore at some wild spot and buried them; to make identification harder, they had taken the things that they had with them and buried them somewhere else. The child--Alan--Corvet had smuggled ashore and sent away; he had t^d Spearman later that the child had died. "Peace--rest 1** Father Perron said In a deep veiee. "Peace to the dead 1" But for the living there had been no peace. Spearman had forced Corvet to make him his partner; Corvet had tried to take up his Ufa again, but had not* been able. His wife, aware that something was wrong with him, had learned enough so that she had left him. Luke had come and T1_.. ^ .... ... had Watehed :ii»#^^^lt'ih--of • tb<*»- Irho would have nraggfered with Stafford except for WKPlrtd been done. • Corvet had secretly soupfat and followed the fate of the kTfa of those people who had been murdered to benefit him; he found some of their families destroyed; he found almost all poor and struggling. And though Corvet paid Luke to keep the crime from disclosure, yet Corvet swore to himself to confess it all and make such restitution as he could. But each time that the day he had appointed with himself arrived, be put It off and off and paid Luke again and again. Spearman knew of his intention and sometimes kept him from it. But Corvet had made one close friend; and whoa that friend's daughter, for whom Corvet cared now most of all in the world, had been about to marry Spearman. Corvet defied the cost to himself, and he gained strength to oppose Spearman. So he had written to Stafford's son to come; he had prepared for confession and restitution; but, after he had done this and while he waited, something had seemed to break In his brain; too long preyed upon by terrible memories, and the ghosts of those who had gone, and by the echo of their voices crying to him from the water, Corvet had wandered away;' he bad come back, under the name of one of those whom he had wronged, to the lake life from which he had sprung. Only now and then, for a few hours, be had Intervals when he remembered all; in one of these he had dug up the watch and the ring and other things which he had taken from Captain Stafford's pockets and written to himself directions of what to do with them, when bis mind again failed. And for Spearman, strong against all that assailed Corvet, there had been always the terror of the Indian Drum the Drum which had beat short for the Mlwaka, the Drum which had known that one was saved 1 That story came from some hint which Luke had spread, Corvet thought; but Spearman, born near by the Drum, believed that the Drum had known and that the Drum had tried to tell; all through the years Spearman had dreaded the Drum which bad tried to betray him. So it was by the Drum that, in the end, Spearman was broken. The priest's voice had stopped, as Alan slowly realized; he heard Sherrill's voice speaking to him. "It was a trust that he left you, Alan; I thought it must be that-- a trust for those who suffered by the loss of your father's ship. I don't know yet how It can be fulfilled; and we must think of that." "That's how I understand it,* Alan said. Through the tumult In his soul he became aware of physical feelings again, and of Sberrlll's hand put upon his shoulder in a cordial, friendly grasp. Then another hand, small and firm, touched his, and he felt Its warm tightening grasp upon his fingers; he looked up, and his eyes filled and hers, he saw, were brimming too. They walked together, later in the day, up the hill to the small, white house which bad been Caleb Stafford's. The woman who had come to the door was willing to show them through the house; It had only five rooms. One of those upon the second floor was so much larger and pleasanter than the rest that they became quite sure that It was the one In which Alan had been born, and where his young mother soon afterward had died. The woman, who had showed them about, had gone to another room and. left them alone. "There seems to have been no pic ture of her and nothing of hers left here that any one can tell me about; byt," Alan choked^ "It's good to be able to think of her as I can now. "I mean--no one can say anything against her now!" Alan drew nearer her, trembling. "I can never thank you--I can never tell you whut you did for me. belie** Ing in--her and in me, no matter , how things looked. And then, coming up here as you did--for me !** "Yes, it was for you, Alan l" "Constance!" He caught her. (Hie let him hold her. t The woman was^re turning to' them now and, perhaps, It was as well; for not yet, he knew,' could he ask her all that he wished; what bad happened was too recent yet for that. But to him. Spearman--half mad and fleeing from the haunts of men--was beginning to be like one who had never been; and he knew Bhe shared this feeling. The light In her deep eyes was telling him already what her answer to him would be; apd life stretched forth before him fullof .love and happiness and hope. [THE END.] Fall >.<( Every season, when fashion news seams dullest; a few high lights of styje'^levelop which prove to be the keiaewtfce of the coming season, surviving the fire of criticism and wear and exposure. It Is easy, notes a fashion writer lp the New York Times,, Jto look back then apd see the fashion extravangances that have died by the wayside and those which have won the honors of the day. have kept a few essentials, adde<L them to worthy survivals from the pa&i and now we stand ready to go into aNaew season for the accumulation of other and perhaps more important features of dress. This,, then, is what Is called the evolution of style. It is by this process that our clothes develop. We cannot long retain a, trimming or a gew-gaw that 'is not mm **» « , Plato's Tribute to MusJtb ^ f*lato wrote: Music is a moral taw. It gives a soul to the whole universe, wings to the mind, flight to the imagination, a charm to sadness, a gaiety and life to everything. It Is the essence of order and harmony, and leads to all that Is good, just and beautiful of which It Is the invisible hut nevertheless the dazzling, passionate and eternal form. t . The bill of the albatroas Is a vale pink color, shading to yellow at the tip. Coat With Sweeping Lines and Contrasting Lining, Survival cessful Fashion Seucn. useful, out if the fashion survives the test," it is bound to be a thing which will be generally satisfactory for many seasons to • come* not just for the short span of months called a sea' s^n. The Long Coat. No one with an aptitude for observing style as It develops can fail to see that the long coat with loose, graceful lines Is one thing which has come out of this season as a surety. It has superseded thev cape and, by that same process of evolution, has become a thing with all of the vainable points of the cape retained and gracefulnesses added. The cape had gone a little too far. It had become too extremely popular for any claim to ultra-smartness. It was necessary that some new idea be thought of, and it happened to be the coat of longer, more flowing lines. So many of these new coats, seen at the races, the country clubs and all outdoor gatherings, are made of the heavier silks ih dark or neutral colors, with rather more startling tones used tot the linings. Seen coming along the road. It Is puzzling to know whether some garments are' a coat or a cape, after all. so closely do the two types resembie each other. When the coat swings open, it has those cape lines to which we have clung so Ion# because of their charm. But when the coat Is dased .it is more of an adequate street ginbent than the cape could ever hope to be. It has a bit of style all by itself, needing no other garment to make It successful., The long coat is a Parisian interpr» tatlon of this newer of the outer garments. It Is simple enough in its line and general makeup, but It has that attention to detail of style which places it In the class of the more Important creations of the season. The stuff from which It is made is the heaviest of Moroccan crepes- a fabric with the heaviness of a serge Or a velours, although woven entirely from silk threads. The coat Is stitched around the rounded trimmings and is lined With a soft, warm chade of gray crepe that gives it a becoming quality. The way that the collar buttons around the throat Is one of the newer features of the coats of this season, for It isva collar that looks graceful at all times--as well when the coat Is opened as when it Is closed. Beads for Yrimming, ~ Once in a while we make up our minds that beads for trimming have passed out of the category of fashion. Then they return in some new and surprising manner. This season beads have been larger and they have been put on with more attention to the decorative note supplied by each bead rather than with reference to masses of smaller ones. An evening dress shows admirably the use of these larger beads. Each one has been used to tell a story of Its own and there has been no attempt to have them run Into each other. They are heavy beads, so that there could be no attempt to mass them unduly for fear of the heaviness that they would Impart to a gown which must necessarily be light in weight and appearance to carry out the function for which it is designed. This dress is one of the loveliest of the white dresses of the season and the beads are made of cut Jet, showing up strongly against the purity of the background of rough white crepe. Of course there are many girdles and cabochon trimmings made of these larger and more effective beads, and each time the trimming appears the fact Is made more apparent that the heaviness and the largeness of them ts one of the season's developments in dress decoration which Is bound to carry on. Straight Versus Bouffant Lines. The survival of the straight line through another season's struggle serves to show that In this style the American woman has found something to \yhich her personality Is eminently fitted. She may experiment with all of the innovations in the way of more generous widths, but back she comes to the straight lines, which have proved their satisfaction. Down go the skirts to a far lower level, but the stralghtness of the line of the frock remains intact. We have innovations, to be sure, but none of them are met with any enthusiasm. At the end of a very smart and success^ ful season of dress the straight line is the one which has won the day-- that is, for general favor and -popularity. There seems no chance, either, that the straight line will cease to be original, for with each new creation there seems to be some brand-new development In the way of applying this simplicity of cut. It is a line which never seeniB to grow old, and, because It la so well suited to the American woman's figure plus the life she leads. It bids fair to go on, with additions, subtractions and revisions, for a long while to come. Draping in Long Lines e®e(s)e®e®e<£>e®e®e®e(s)e<§)e<s)e(s>e®e(s)e®e®o®' ®e®e®*®t»®e®e®e<$e BRINGING HER BOARDERS TO TIME Weman Employs Gossip as s Medlufti for Getting Delinquents te Battle Their Bills. Many and various are the schemes employed by boarding house keepers to spur collections from delinquent boarders. The latest is to take gossiping, the boarders' own most popular Indoor sport, and »ise it against them. "Easiest thing in the world," declared an exponent of the new system. "All you have to do Is spread the news. You Just it Into the conversatlon off-hand Itkv. that ain't It a shame poor Mr. Brown Is having such hard luck and bis wife so brave, too. mm, tee three veeks ' ~ ^ * • : ' X' * W * / V now,' you say. 'Not that Td press him for it. But he must be kind of bard put to oe hanging up a poor widow like me. "That's enough. Whoever I tell tells it to some one else. She tells some one else. Soon It's all over the house, and In time it gets back to Brown. That usually brings him around. Few persons can stand it to be talked about."--New York Sun. sleeves lovely which glide on, to fasten their ends to other portions of the gown, making a line that is flowing and beautiful and graceful In the extreme. Once this method hasr heen employed in the making of a dress, there Is not much room nor need for The sleeves that are draped, the skirts that are drnped, the waistlines that are draped and so on show trend toward using materials in this prescribed manner. We are becoming so accustomed to gracefulness in our everyday attire that we are really quite classic, and t after a while we will find ourselves'unable to do without this general stimulus of beauty. Artists In dress have been working for this end a long while. They have Insisted that, once the American woman came to know her own powers of displaying the beautiful, she would develop that art with an avidity never before known in the history of woman. And this summer as one walks along the street It Is Impossible not to be struck by the fact that there is a larger element of beauty in our Ik THE CHIC SUMMER FROCK OF SILK Tailored Types Featured by Parle In Models 8ent for Inspection by American Women. ^ .. Wasps Oo Qood ServtOb Wasps are not usually cdiiftTctered our friends, yet a large nest of wasps will account for 24,000 flies in a day. SUm a fly must leva * araspfK^' J V Paris usually sends over a^ nomber of styles late In the winter or In very early spring that appear In more or lees modified form in the first showing of American designed garments for the following fall. In the midseason models displayed this year there appeared a very clever little frock. It was made of medium-weight navy silk crepe and trimmed with one-balf-lnch wide fine silk soutache braid. This frock would be excellent for wear throughout the summer and the silk crepes featured for this season are light enough In weight to be entirely comfortable, especially as very few dresses ever require a lining. The skirt of this frock is quite elaborately braid trimmed and the braid strips that outline the neck and K . continue on to covor the entire tops * I /WL AlMm* Mu Aft LniiiEASti&fl MMb My and leg-ache ®i perMswWMU toonberiMaSat egetabls to do earefolaot to do beery well and strong Wsrw E. Plnkham™ sll mothers with kg daughters, White and Red Frocks. New York's most fashionable recently a dinner dance revealed that nearly every woman present waa dressed In all-white frocks or bright red. It Is easy to figure which was the choice of the blonde and which of the brun^t£e. to audi tUsletus testimonial "--firs. A. HOLD KB, Route No. % Box l,WaU!MKHt Ohio. Something oat of balance will affect the finest clock, causing It to gain or lose. The proper adjustment made, all is wfcll So it is trim women. Soibs trouble may upset you completely. Plnjtfiam'a Vegetable €oot» correct the cause of the tren» disagreeable symptoms wit •astney did in the case of Iba. Bt Mc fidence. UVIHW ••••/ bis and dii 'a daughter. ! -- it is worthy of your coo- LIVES IN BORROWED SHELL i Hermit Crab Has Peculiar Habit , sf, Seeking Out 8hells of Dead Mel4*~ luaks for Domicile. The most peculiar thing about the hermit crab Is his curious habit ef living in the shell of dead mollaaka. His motive is to protect his hlnd-body. The fore part of his anatomy Is covered with a thick, horny crust. His abdomen is soft and invested with a delicate membrane. The slightest rupture or abrasion to this abdomen covering is. almost certain to be fataL With its belly, the hermit crab holds on to its portable home. Occasionally It will change one acquired shell tot another. When exchanging shells it must act with utmost caution and dispatch lest It be harmed by some enemy who may be lurking near. This exchange is often made at the ( mere whim of the animal, but after each tqoultlng is compelled to find a larger home to accommodate 4ta grow* Ing body. Canny Scot. ^ An American, who has spent of his time in Scotland, tells of a coOMeal blunder which an eminent citizen of Glasgow was eager to perpetrate upon the city's statue of Nelson. Nothing florid In the way of an inscription was wanted, but something the merit of which weuld consist ia Its brevity and* sincerity. "Glasgow to Nelson," was the advice given by the American when approached by the city fathers. "Aye, a very guid suggestion," said one of the citizens. "And, as the toon o' Nelson is close at hand, micht we no juist say, "Glasgow to, Nelson, aax miles,' so that It micht serve for • monument and milestone, tool" "Desert" in the Qpeafb.: ? £ Ih the south Pacific, wftst of Pata» gonia, there Is a sea .desert which contains so few forms of marine life that, it 1s claimed, whales and sharks ft*- quently die of hupger before they tad their way-out. ' . There# are approximately \ OO^iOb club women In the state of Ptnnsyl* vania. > clothes than there has been In all tbe years of our recollection. The draping, so much a part of the accepted gown, is in a large measure responsible for this state of affairs. There Is hardly a gown where some bit of It is not to be seen, and everywhere that the loose, long folds appear there is that certain sense of gracefulness which is bound to make its appeal and to give satisfaction. The sleeves, made of long pieces of the material of the gown, are particularly beautiful. Especially are those trimming. The line is enough In itself, and it has accomplished wonders in the way of a contribution te t&e season's style. • Hot wntei Sure Relief ELL-ANS 25i and 73$ Packages, Everywhere Cuticura Soap Is Ideal for-- The Complexion 2Se» Oiwtawt 25 tmi 56t, Tele--12St - : PARKER* HAIR BALSAM •piipriMi •g-«tot»H»i«T»ia^i •iiSiOftw-4FiJhilht finish to tlje bodice. The real feature of the frock Is its tailored appearance, although It is made Of so tight weight a fabric. A distinctly smart frock recently seen, also of the tailored type, was made ot Tiavy canton crepe, the foundation of the dress or the frock proper being a straight-line affair. A succession of self fabric panels were set on to the skirt, attached at one side so they stood out from the frock like overgrown plaits or tucks. These were faced on one side with tan self fabric. A touch of the tan appeared at the neck and on the sleeVes. Another Interesting frock with crepe to match, also made of navy canton crepe, showed the back of the frock and the yoke of the cape made of Inch-and-a-half wide double sections of the fabric braided together basket fashion. The outfit was otherwise made on simple lines, but this little out-of-the-ordlnsry touch was worthy ^ nf ^ •- r > • - -* p Hfl! e> 1 hdn J i l l s tor i . i s > t ! i ! \ . Yoa feelao bat will- mm yoa feel better, Kill All Flies I fPattlteUad Hy«hM]|^,s *OIBT ntuUA « t aisaai 1••• LI* MM tMU I l•M•aOt mWSI ie«rUr ai--t rwilt wimHirMM rmtr W N. U, CHICAGO. NO. 31-1022. " ' ' ' - v