Democratic Sentinel, Volume 4, Number 41, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 19 November 1880 — Prehistoric Wheat. [ARTICLE]

Prehistoric Wheat.

Jim Haywood has made oue important discovery in his life, and that is that wheat was raised in this country long before the advent of the adventurous Cortez. Jim bases his discovery upon a kernel of wheat which he dug out of an adobe brick in the walls of the Pecos Church ruin. The grain was as hard as a rock and was so well preserved that it wore a hole through three pocket-books before Jim got tired of it. He threw it away for its general uselessness.— Las Vegas (N. M.) Optic. When the season for making presents comes, make some sufferer of vour acquaintance a present of a Bottle of Dr. bull’s Clough Svrup, and note the benefit it will do him and the thanks you will receive,

Aud Then Sbe Wouldn’t Go. Oh, the perversity of women ! Here is one of the sex at Eureka Springs, Ala., who attempts to elope, but is detected by her husband. Now what follows? Why, in the kindness of his heart he offers to pay the expenses of her intended journey. And she? She Won’t go. As we said in the beginning, Oh, the perversity of women! — Boston Transcript. A Charming Woman. What is more charming than an agreeable, graceful woman ? Here and there we meet one who possesses the fairy-like power of enchanting all about her. Sometimes she is ignorant herself of the magical influence, which is, however, for that reason, only the more perfect. Her presence lights up the home; her approach is like the cheering warmth; she passes by and we are content; she stays a while and we are happy. To behold her is to live; she is the aurora with a human face; she makes an Eden of the house; paradise breathes from her, and she communicates this 'delight to all without taking any greater trouble than that of existing beside them. Is not here an inestimable gift? Sensible Dressing'. There is a class of women one meets with every day whose dressing is above reproach.* They go out to walk, not to show their clothes bat to add to their fine stock of health. They look as if they could sit a horse well, and as if they used often the luxury of a bath. They wear thick soled shoes, with low, broad heels, shapely and well fitting. Their walking mid church suits are of cloth, plain y made, but of exquisite fit. Their gloves and bonnet-strings are above reproach. The hair, well cared for, is prettily waved or curled above the forehead, and worn low, to show the shape of the head—a style that artists love. Unless nature has been very niggardly no false hair is allowable. The bonnet is close and very becoming, and the face is protected by a veil. An ample parasol or umbrella is ready as protection against the sun or rain. What fault can the most censorious man find with a costume like this ?

In ISoyal Ute. The Emperor and Empress of Germany see each other as little as possible. It is somewhat curious how few monarchs do get on with their wives and the wives witli the husbands, for they seldom adore each other. The Empress of Austria is seldom seen in society, and when out riding or driving carries a fan before her face, even when returning the greetings of her royal admirers. She seldom attends the theater or opera, but when the circus comes to town is then seen in her box every night. She knows only one passion, and that is her love of horses and equestrianship. She has her own especial riding establishment, and here she reigns supreme. She will drive a tandem team before her at a relentless pace around the ring, having fresh relays of horses every few minutes. She has a place fitted up in the stable of her favorite charger where she can sleep it she feels so disposed, and where she frequently dictates her letters to her private secretary, while her favorite horse looks over from his stall and is patted fondly by his imperial mistress.

Weak Woman vs. Tyrant Man. Here is an illustration of what can be done by a defenseless, weak, and unprotected woman when left alone to deal with heartless man. It was in Booth’s Theater. A woman entered with seven companions, and took possession of eight orchestra chairs. Presently eight other claimants of the same seats came along. There was a comparison of tickets, and it was found that the party in possession held tickets for the matinee of the preceding Wednesday. Explanation was followed by expostulation, and this, in turn, by denunciation. All in vain. The manager was sent for. “Madam,” said he, “you must relinquish these seats. Your tickets are valueless.” “ That is no fault of mine. J paid for them, and mean to keep them.” “Madam, I insist.” The enemy said nothing, but sat still. The manager argued, appealed, implored, offered other seats, offered a box, offered a stagebox, offered compromise on any terms, while the rightful owners of the seats looked and thought unspeakable things. Said the garrison : “ Tell you what I’ll do; give me two season tickets for Bernhardt in a good part of the house, and I will surrender.” The manager gasped, uttered a blessing beneath his breath, bowed, and declined to continue the conversation. Then he retired in exceedingly bad order. He did not get the seats, but did issue another set of free admissions to pacify the original proprietors.— New York Evening Post.

The ISHishing- Bonnet. It is not every maiden, in these prosaic days, who can summon the "telltale blood” to her cheeks at will, or silently reveal, by an opportune roseate flush, those inward feelings to which many young ladies experience such difficulty in giving verbal expression. But as the value of the blush, as a highly effective weapon in the feminine armory, is still universally recognized by the sex, although it would appear to have somewhat fallen into disuetude, French ingenuity has been at pains of devising a mechanical appliance for the instantaneous production of a fine natural glow upon the cheek of the beauty, no matter how constitutionally lymphatic or philosophically unemotional its proprietress may be. This thoughtful contrivance is called "The Ladies’ Blushing Bonnet,” to the side ribbons of which—those Usually tied under the fair wearer’s chin—are attached two tiny but powerful steel springs, ending in round pads, which are brought to bear upon the temporal arteries by the action of bowing the head, one exquisitely appropriate to modest embarrassment, and by artificially forcing blood into the cheeks cause them to be suffused with " the crimson hue of shame ” at a moment’s notice. Should these ingenious headcoverings become the fashion among the

girls of the period, it will behoove "young men about to marry ” to take a sly peep behind the bonnet strings of their charmers immediately after proposing, in order to satisfy themselves that the heightened color, by them interpreted as an involuntary admission of reciprocated affection, is not due to the agency of a carefully adjusted “ blushing bonnet.” — London Telegraph. The Blonde* Must Go. The blondes must go, says an exchange, because we are weary of them ; because they have been weighed in the balance and found to be anything but fine, true gold ; because it is high time the brunettes were coming to the front, and, finally, because fashion wills it And so the blonde must go. She is no longer to gild the stage and the parlor, and the sudden flood of brightness that psed to be so rare that when, one* an age, a woman was born with it, painters painted her, troubadours celebrated her, and locks of her hair were handed down like a treasure—that brightness is going into eclipse ; and where bleaching baths and alkaline water and annot to and orpiments and bichlorides of tin and gold powders have reigned, litharge and nitrate of silver and Aleppo galls and iron and bismuth are seizing the scepter. No more will the lithe ladies of the spectacular and the burlesque display the new golden fleece as they dance down* the boards and shake at us the wealth of their Fine locks, Stained like pale honey, oozea from topmost rocks. Sun-blanched the live-long summer. No more will every damsel who patrols the avenues out-Saxon the Saxon iu her braids and curls. No more will the little love locks flutter gold-thread-ed round the temples, but dark and heavy braids and waves must supersede them. No more will the delicate fade colors be seen among us, pale as the early sunrise tints ; but deep, rich bodies of colors, of crimson and orange, and emerald, and lapis blue, the only wear of your brunettes, will efface their airy softness. And do they really suppose—the people who utter the pronunciamento —that the blonde is going to cease at their dictum ? The blonde who went—a nondescript, or with black hair, and sat patiently as the camel’s hair brush passed over each hair till the black hair became brown, and the brown red, and the red gold, and the gold flaxen —that silly blonde may go, and all her glory with her. But the blonde of art and literature, and history, the blonde of beauty—could all the Eugenies and Metterniches that ever ruled the court, could all the Cora Pearls that ever ruled the demimonde—banish that blonde when nature has once given her the right to be ? Did Titian paint his women with that hair to have some modiste announce the Jay of liis destiny over, and the blonde a good-for-naught ? And have all the poets that ever handled pen launched out in praise of the hair that Titian painted to have their script become a dead-letter ? Shall Maud, and Enide, and Elaine, and Guinevere depart into the world of shadows with Evelyne Hope, with the Fair Rosamond, with Gurdrun, with the Lorelei, with Porphyria, with David when he went harp in hand before Saul— God's child, with the dew On his gracious gold hair?