Harper's Bazaar 1899-09-16: Vol 32 Iss 37

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VOL. XXXII

anita Ord nar:

PUBLISHED WEEKLY NUMBER 37

C. 0. leelin Mire NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 16, 1899 Iselin Captain Woodbury Kan

MRS. Drawn By A. I. Kevier rrom a PHoToGRAPH TAKEN ESPECIALLY For “ Harper's Bazar.” S. etl i sgt ‘wed ISELIN ON THE DECK OF THE 7 oe 7? we ae, ‘ . ;-* ae se A a . — = : AZZ ga 2 N z - = = . Ba 5 ‘e - iy oe 7? LD Z, ' mh a zs f a é = ial 2 > 3 . oP ; - a —4 . fon = = = a = a Seo - ae — yA \ e253 Y = - ~ A 2 ay - — se ) ‘ Ss : _ "4 » + —Y 4 4 — : Copyright, 1899, by HARPER & BROTHERS til Rights Reserved TEN CENTS A COPY FOUR DOLLARS A YEAR

*“OOLU MBIA.”

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774 HARPER'S 4 THE WEEK HE success of the Columbia in the coming yacht- race is as important a matter to every woman as it is to every man in the United States. During the early days of next month the famous inter national races are to take place between the Columbia and the Shamrock, and it is interesting to know that Mrs. Ise lin, the wife of the managing owner of the American boat, has spent the entire summer with ber husband and his friendg aboard the yacht. She watched her building, she was on board when the boat was launched, and she has taken part in the trial races CRITICISM of the American woman which one too often hears from the lips of the observant foreigner is that she is too much of a faddist. Perhaps there is more truth than poetry in the comment. Nevertheless, a well- known woman physician, the late Mary Woolsey Noxon, was much inclined to encourage all such fancies among her patients, declaring that she would not make half the money she did if they all rode hobbies. It was at the time when photography was just coming into vogue that Dr. Noxon vowed one of her best patients was cured by the absorbing interest she manifested in that art, it leaving her no time to dwell upon every little ache and magnify every trifling pain > e . HE independent woman who finds herself with ample leisure might do worse than follow the example of the Russian women, The women of a nation whom we look upon as semi-barbarians all have some hobby over which they become enthusiastic, but theirs is not the passing fancy of a season, or an hour. To it they devote hours of serious study. Far more often than not it is some branch of science that admits of no half-hearted worship to which they have dedicated their leisure, and many of them hav- ing taken up the pursuit as a pastime, finally allow it to become the absorbing interest of a lifetime. Sonia Ko- valefski, that marvellous mathematician, was a type of such women, and the one probably most widely known in this country, though she was by no means an exception among the middle classes of that great country. That the ordinary reader is in this country approaching this is evidenced by the open shelf system now being used in the New York Free Circulating Li brary, whose librarians say that to many peo ple it is a revelation how many girls now go away with some book of science tucked under their arms who formerly would have asked for a novel by the ** Duchess,” . 7 . IS Holiness the Pope is to become an auto mobilist. Long has the illustrious captive endea vored in many ways to delude himself into the belief that he enjoyed the liberty of the ordinary mortal, For years those who are well acquainted with the household of Leo XIIL. have been aware that the chief out-door exercise taken by the Pon- tiff was over the perfect road he had caused to be built around and about the immense gardens. Each day he can be seen, clad in his flowing white robes, seated in a light carriage drawn by fleet steeds, rushing in and out on this track. But soon the merry ring of the horses’ hoofs is to be replaced by the inevitable “teuf-teuf” of an electric vehicle. Of course the manufacturer who has secured the order for this carriage will do everything in his power to render it thoroughly suitable for its august occupant, The unavoidable noise, which has been so wit- tily turned into the popular French name, will be reduced toa minimum, and every precaution will be taken to charge the carriage so that his Holiness will escape the experience of many an automobilist who finds himself far from home HARPER’S BAZAR as dusk and the dinner-hour approach, while his car stands breathless in the middle of the road. > e * N honor which is not often accorded to an author dur- ing her life has just been conferred upon Charlotte Yonge by the founding through popular subscription of a scholarship to bear her name at Winchester High-School, England. Miss Yonge is now seventy-six years old, and began when she was barely twenty to write stories to supply the desire of her Sunday-school children for good tales. Her old-school father was decidedly aghast when he learned that a daughter of his had courted notoriety by appearing in print; he warned her very sternly against this vanity, and also so effectually against the love of gain that.for many years Miss Yonge refused to spend a penny of her earnings upon herself. No less an authority than Walter Besant says that Charlotte Yonge taught the girls of her generation, when they most needed the Jesson, to throw aside the pretence, the affectations, the humili- ties, which caused women to be regarded as dolls. She taught them to scorn trivial gossip; she encouraged them to think for themselves. The present generation of Eng- lish women scarcely realize what this sweet and sympa- thetic woman has done for their mothers and grandmoth- ers, nor how much of their inheritance is the result of her work. The Bishop of Winchester in his address noted that not only had her influence been most beneficial on girls, but also upon young men, and he made special men- tion of that remarkable group of Oxford men whose leaders were William Morris and Burne-Jones. Comment has often been made of how completely the fashion of fainting has gone out; undoubtedly the remarkable change is due in a great degree to the lesson taught by Miss Yonge—‘‘ Be real in your work, real in your reli- gion, real in purity of thought as well as of life; be real and strong.” . * o SPLENDID example of the energy of women journal- ists is given in the recent work of Frances Benjamin Johnston, the Washington photographer. Miss Johnston has accomplished recently almost as novel and impor- tant a feat of news-gathering as the pursuit of a flying column. She has gone from Washington to Naples for the purpose of photographing and interviewing Admiral Dewey, and has succeeded in getting a set of portraits of the Admiral, as well as an exhaustive series of pictures of life aboard his flag-ship. It was in July that Miss John- ston had a proposition from the manager of a New York newspaper syndicate to go in search of Admiral Dewey with her camera. She accepted it, and within forty-eight hours was on her way to Paris. When she left America the Admiral’s plans were reported as somewhat unsettled. Arriving on the other side, Miss Johnston found no reflec- tion of the overwhelming interest in the hero which pre- vails here, and. it was with difficulty that she got trace of his movements. When she learned that he was to be at Naples on a Sunday—the 6th of August—she took train from Paris, and after twenty-four hours of steady travel- ADMIRAL DEWEY LOOKING OVER MISS JOHNSTON'S PHOTOGRAPHS. Copyright, 1899, by J. C. Hemment. ling reached her destination in the evening. She lost no time, but went immediately out to the Olympia, where she presented herself to the Admiral, and met.a most cordial reception. Possibly some measure of it was due to the fact that Miss Johnston took with her on her journey a letter of introduction from Governor Roosevelt, who is one of Admiral Dewey’s warmest friends. At all events, she found the Admiral the modest, courteous gentleman who is described in terms of admiration by every travel- ling American who has met him by chance or design dur- Vos, XXXI1., No. 87 ing his homeward voyage. She had no difficulty in ob- taining permission to photograph the Admiral and every one and everything about the ship. At eight o’clock the following morning she began her work. From Naples Miss Johnston followed the Olympia to Leghorn, where she completed her mission. She was able to show the Admiral the excellent result of his own appearance before the camera, and to obtain his approval of it before she shipped it to America. It is all a piece of energetic work that does credit to men as well as to women. *,* “ITF wives and sisters would try to supply something restful and quiet on the arrival of the man of the family from his daily work, might not much of the hope- lessness and the discontent of home life be done away with?” ‘Women work hard all day too,” was the an- swer, ‘“‘and they are just as tired at evening-time. You cannot expect a miracle from them.” But it seems to some of us that just such things can be expected of them, and that were the miracle performed the hopelessness of existing conditions would vanish. The beginning of the miracle might be brought about if women, no matter how busy they were, nor what had happened during the day, would arrange to spend an hour in some sort of recrea- tion with their husbands every evening. This recreation might take any form, from quiet companionship, as the wife sewed or knitted beside her husband as he smoked, to pleasant work upon some particular hobby which she had taken up because it was interesting to her and interesting to him, and including anything in the form of out-door life after the supper, walking, or taking part in some game with him. The duties of the two are bound to be of interest to both. It is the pleasures and recreations of both which require study before they can become of com- mon interest, and it is part of the wife’s field to give suf- ficient thought to these matters so that they may become of practical use. The miracle might go even a step farther, for the wife or daughter could cultivate sume one pursuit or interest of her own, throwing into it her enthusiasm, finding in it refreshment, and making of it an object by which the sympathies and interest of her hus- band or brother would be aroused. This is only a sug- gestion, but it has its significance. It has its significance, because it can be tried in any home, because whatever is done with this purpose sincerely in view is just so far a step, and a good step in the right direction, and because any wife or any sister may fit its application to her own case, and start at once to produce some little result, Homes for the educated working-women of London are being planned. Gilbert Parker, the novelist, has a scheme on hand for one, and, what is more to the point, he already has a very considerable sum subscribed for the erection of his hotel. In this he is more fortunate than the New York promoters of a similar plan which was started more than a year ago, and who now only need an additional $50,000 to secure a most desirable site for their building. The plan proposed by Mr. Parker is almost identical with the New York one. First, it is a business affair, and not a charitable scheme; for he knows well that the class he desires to reach could only thus be induced to take advantage of its su perior accommodations. He says, as do many able financiers, that a first-class hotel in which could be housed four hundred wo men would pay well. It would be somewhat more in the nature of a private hotel for permanent guests, where the individ- ual woman could seeure freedom and _ indepen- dence with only the regu- lations applying in any first-class hotel, than one in which the transient ele- ment would predominate. But here comes in the con- trariness of human nature. At a public meeting held to discuss the plan, Lady Aberdeen presiding, the women of London seemed to think it a not altogeth- er desirable one. On the other hand, here in New York there are already six hundred women im- patiently waiting to install their Lares and Penates within its friendly shelter, and many of them are keenly disappointed that another October is approaching with- out the materialization of a plan which they begin to think too good to be true. °*,* E can utilize waste glass now, it seems, so that the people living in houses built of that erstwhile fra- gile substance need no longer fear the stone-throwing urchin. Already does Paris rejoice in several blocks of n= sae

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ee ee seme * SEPTEMBER 16, 1899 street pavement which, with the proverbial economy of the French, has no doubt been made from old bottles; while in Silesia a similar material is manufactured, principally of glass,which is hardened by a special pro- cess, and combined by means of strong pressure, so that the transparency, brittleness, and fragility of the glass are destroyed, and it is rendered most extraordinarily hard, is a non-conductor of heat, is fire-proof, and impervious to grease and acids. Thus it is the ideal flooring for kitch- ens, laundries, and piazzas, for which it is already used, as well as for wainscotings, and for fire-proof staircases. The coloring depends upon the color of the glass used in its manufacture, and the hygienic advantages of keramo are said to be already fully appreciated. * . > TORIES of hypnotic victims for perhaps three weeks during August have appeared daily in the papers, one story leading to another. Now they are of a young girl who had been induced to leave home, now of an undu- tiful wife who had found temptation too strong, and now HARPER’S BAZAR of some small capitalist whose funds have been wheedled away from her. In every instance the evil influence of somebody else was made accountable for the misfortunes and the follies of the victims. Now the ability of the hypnotist to control us lies not so much in his strength as in our weakness—in our belief that his thought or his weakness can make us do what he wills us to do. The crying child could never make the irritable, worn-out, and complaining mother do what it chose if the worn- out mother did not believe that every time the child fret- ted she, the mother, must, against all ber better judg- ments, principles, and beliefs, do what the baby wanted. The baby, in fact, is a hypnotist, though the mother perhaps has never suspected it. And the selfish younger sister who insists on ber own pleasures at whatever cost could never make her weaker elder sacrifice eyen con- science in order to secure her a new possession if she, the elder, did not think that the other could make her do what she chose. Neither would the young boy yield to the man of no principle if he did not believe the other's influence too strong to resist. 775 ERIOUS problems are involved in these questions, but it can easily be seen that one’s only safeguard against the power of the hypnotist or any adverse influence lies in making up one’s own mind about what is believed to be right and true, and then to live out these principles. The mother who frets about the baby who controls her has never stopped to think about the higher duties of the mo- ther, and that these might lie in not giving up to the cry- ing child. No hypnotist, so scientists tell us, even those who are making experiments, can make a perfectly tem perate man simulate drunkenness, nor a perfectly pure woman utter a word she would blush about when per fectly herself. We should take ten minutes at least a day and formulate and reformulate to ourselves wise and righteous principles of conduct, and then live them out in our daily lives. The mother should think of what the serene and self-poised mother would do with her fretful child—what the right duties, in fact, of a mo- ther are. Any one who has tried the experiment will find that the so-called power of hypnotist or devil to overcome him has ceased HEY have a fashion in the Adirondacks of*build- ing ‘‘lean-tos” not only in the woods, but in the camps. A “ lean-to” is a square structure, not unlike a sheep-cote, without windows or doors, but with sloping roof and three walls. In rough camp they are built of green boughs, and are meant only to serve as shelter for a night or two. But in those luxuri- ous camps which are left standing from year to year they are built for permanent use. Their walls are like those of a log cabin, and the sloping roof is made rain-proof. An inclined floor is laid to protect the loungers inside from the damp earth, the floor level with the ground at the en- trance, sloping up toward the wall at the back, where it stands some two feet higher and well away from possible damp. On this wooden floor balsam boughs are laid. Cushions are arranged along its head, and an afghan or blanket is left for some cool afternoon or evening. Di- rectly opposite the opening of this lean-to, which looks perhaps into the wood and perhaps down the lake, or again up a brook, wherever the view is fine and privacy best insured, a camp fire is laid on a high stone hearth— almost an altar. The comfort and charm of these lean- tos cannot easily be measured. Out-door life is possible in them even when rains fall and winds blow. They are large enough to hold five or six, and not too large for one. They are inducements which ought to prevail in the rest of the world for getting oftener out of our houses and away from door-steps for the enjoyment of simple pleasures, the telling of stories before a fire, or the reading of books on a quiet afternoon. It would be possible in almost any wood Jot or under any orchard to build such a place with only a few planks, while the brush heap gath- ered from different directions might serve as a camp fire. One wonders why so charming an arrangement must be confined to camp life when opportunities for it are to be found in almost every country place, and would add im- mensely to its pleasures. . e * BY studying the accompanying illustrations you will get many useful suggestions for camps of any kind in any place. Each camp is made up of a series of separate cabins, tents, and huts, detached from one another, but be- longing to one group, as the barns, out-houses, and farm- house belong to one another. Natural woods are employ- ed in their construction, matching in color the trees them- selves, and harmonizing with each other. Sometimes the roof is stained a moss green. When shingled walls are built, time is allowed to stain them gray. Nature, in fact, is permitted to do all the work she can. Notice in one in- stance how the trunk of a growing tree has been made to serve as a post on the corner of the piazza. You can also be able to see how even within-doors the paint- er has been ignored. In the bed-room, for instance, the ceiling, walls, and floor are of yellow pine, which has been rubbed with crude oil and then shellacked. The fireplace, not visiblein the picture, is of stone. The room, there- fore, is of yellow, though neither the paper-hanger nor the painter has been admitted. The enamelling of the furniture, which is white, was done, of course, at the factory. This yellow pine bas been used in the same way in the dining-room and the living-room of an adjoining and very elaborate and beautiful camp, pictures of which are not given here. The effect is cool, cheerful, and charming, the wood lending itself easily to the individual tastes of almost any householder. This particular dining- room, in which the yellow pine prevails, is a constant source of delight to the eye, for with the setting of the table and the employment of its decorative colors in fruits or flowers or greens, the most exquisite harmony of color is at once produced, lingering in the mind long after one has left the room, like a flavor as fine as that from any perfume. There is no reason why any such a dining-room should not be reproduced in any farm-house or country house. The yellow pine is cheap, the oiling and shellacking simple and inexpensive operations. 7,? HE dining-room and the living-room shown in tbe illus- trations have also been treated with yellow pine, intro- duced as shingles on the roof and ceiling, the rafters, upright posts, and the chimney being made of wood, still covered with its natural bark. That great pains were taken in this particular instance to secure these ef- fects may be gathered from the fact that the wood used in the mantel-piece of the living-room was only to be se- cured in Canada, months being required for finding it But for a smaller mantel such a search would not be ne- cessary. The natural wood and bark have also been used in the making of tables, desks, and book-shelves. The color thus produced is delightful and by no means mo- notonous. In the living-room, for instance, the golden rus- set tones of autumn woods are made to prevail in all the hangings and the decorations introduced. Pinks and pur- ples or blues of course are not permitted. The tapes- tries which appear in the panels over the book -shelves have crimson, brown, and yellow in them. In the dining- room, on the other hand, special color is lent by the china, the rugs, and the curtains, the china, whichis blue, being made to form part of the decorative scheme. *,* HAT can be done with simple materials, pre - emi- nently by the possessors of good taste, is apparent at once when the dining-room and bed-room are studied. Ordinary kitchen chairs are used in the dining-room, but these are painted white. The rugs are Japanese, blue and white, and not expensive. The window-curtains are of sheer flowered wash materials, costing perhaps ten cents a yard. The decorations on the table are simple, ferns being constantly used, sometimes a wild-flower and even bits of evergreen. Both the serving-table and the screen protecting the pantry door are inexpensive, costing only a few dollars apiece. The table linen alone is fine. In the bed-room, again, the curtains are of sheer wash ma- terials, not exceeding fifteen cents a yard. The rugs are Japanese. Here again ferns are seen instead of flowers. Indeed, one secret of the fine taste exercised by the own- ers of this camp lies in the tact with which ferns and other woodland materials are used. Flowers are never import ed from a distance, although fruits and edibles may be *,* OME of the tents are built entirely of canvas. In other cases a wooden building is erected in the rear, and to this is attached, in front, a canvas tent on a raised platform. This platform, with its permanent scaffolding over which the canvas is stretched, is left even after the canvas is removed, the canvas being placed for the win ter in the wooden building. This wooden building may be more or less elaborate, according to the needs or the condition of the owner. Sometimes it is merely a wooden anteroom, used for the storage of trunks or the keeping of wood. Dresses are hung here under a curtain, and tin bath-tubs are hidden. Sometimes, as in one or two of the illustrations, the building is divided into dressing-rooms and an extra bed-room, and an open fireplace is provided. All the tents have front porches. These are always fur nished with hammocks, straw divans drawn up out of the way of the wind, or seats covered with balsam boughs, freshly cut every few days. Over these are thrown cush- ions, always covered with a simple wash materia). More over, ferns are used everywhere. They are planted in trunks of trees that have been cut down, in boxes that are set out on the porches and on the window-sills, and they appear in vases and bowls all over the camp. *,* IVING-rooms a hundred feet long are not common possessions, neither are such outlooks as those com- manded by living-rooms iu the Adirondacks where they are built to command extensive views, or open upon a stretch of woods. At the same time, one can see by a study of this one what a living-room can be made when inexpensive and simple materials alone are used. The pool table and the piano are the only costly pieces in it, except a bit of bronze used as a flower-pot. The table is of pine with rough bark trimmings. The desk is of the same material. The willow chairs are covered with sim- ple stuffs, and the divan and its protecting hangings are not costly. But notice how every need is provided for in the room. There is the fireplace about which a group may gather. There are the tables and the lamps to read by. There too are the window-seats to lounge on and to be hidden away from sight on when particular letters are to be read. Then there is the divan, way out of ear-shot, where one can doze or whisper confidences. Yet no at tempt has been made to create ‘‘ cozy corners” so called, or ‘‘ artistic effects.” The whole room is made an expres sion of the owner’s spirit of hospitality atid cheer, and of wanting to make the diverse interests and pleasures of a family one. No better example of a charming living- room could be given, or of one which so well portrays the true family spirit should be that of good companion- ship, cheerfulness, combined with a respect for the indi- vidual tastes of individual members. Littie HaMitTon FRENCH.

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c 59 ADIRONDACK CAMPS Fa wt of tent, the back consisting of a wooden structare divided into dreasing-room«, and Sumuee-uovuse and lounging-tent, showing the camp fire between, the camp fire being furnished with an open fireplace. There are only two rooms and trank-room iu this cabin lighted every night as regularly as the lamps in-doors Fou some of the many visitors. These camps face directly on the lake. Bacur.on quarters—Sleeping-tents ranged on sidebill in the vicinity of the main camp. ee ee re re me oe

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HARPER’S BAZAR YX OG x Pet etae: % “ 7” ’ Livine-room, showing writing-derk in the corner behind the fireplace, with a receiving- Beproom of cabin, showing what can be done with inexpensive coverings. table by the bay-window. ing, and floors of yellow pine, oiled and shellacked VIEW OF LIVING-ROOM, Looking from a door toward the pool table at the end of the room. Dinine-room, showing the entrance-door, fireplace, and door leading into pantry. The Dintne-room, with two windows and dvor at end of room, opening op to a porch over- window on the right opens on a porch which rang around the room. hanging the boat-house and lake.

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778 HARPER’S BAZAR NEW YORK FASHIONS. CTOBER a are considered by many people the pretti est of the year. There are not so many flowers to be had for decoration, but the autumn leaves come in well, and there are the chrysanthemums and geraniums still to be depended upon, and the gowns that are supposed to be appropriate for autumn weddings can be made of richer materials than those that are worn in June SATIN WEDDING GOWNS. EDDING gowns made of satin are really the handsomest of all. There have been a great many gorgeous costumes of velvet and satin, of jewel-embroidered net and lace, and even cloth-of-silver gowns, but nothing is handsomer, looks richer, or is more satisfactory than the rich cream-white satin trimmed with point-lace and made with simple lines, the beauty of the gown being more in the way it is made and in the quality of the satin that is used. All wedding gowns are made with long trains, and the back of the skirt is rarely trimmed. There is a great deal of fulness around the foot of the skirts, but as little as possi ble over the hips. The front breadth of one or two of the new gowns is put in much fuller than the back and side breadths, and this shows the quality of the satin beautifully. Then again the front breadth has tine embroidery or is covered with lace flounces, or, as is the present fad, with lace appliqué. Down the side of the front breadth is a spray, or rather long sprays, of orange blossoms. Again following out the fancy for outlining the front breadth, lace is used with velvet run through it. A very picturesque wedding gown has the front and part of the side breadths eovered with white net, on which are sewed orange blossoms ind green leaves. The effect is most charming, although, of course, it makes a very elaborate costume WAISTS |" is now much more fashionable to wear wedding gowns made high in the throat, although there are some very new ones that are cut in such a way that there is a lace guimpe and sleeves, and then of course the gown can be utilized afterwards for an evening gown. One of the most sttractive of this style is made of heavy cream-white satin, the folds of the waist are draped across, and the waist is fastened under the left arm, ind in such a way that no fastening shows at all. The front breadth is gathered at the sides, as has just been described; the sides and back are quite plain. On the left shoulder is a high spray of orange blossoms and lilies-of-the-valley, and the ends of the spray go down across the waist and fall down on to the skirt. The guimpe and sleeves are made of very andsome point-lace ; the sleeves are exaggeratedly long, coming well down over the hand ; a collet of diamonds and _ pearls finishes the guimpe at the throat, and there is a very handsome diamond pendant to be worn with this particular wedding gown Wurrt 6.x wWeepixe cows. This gown te made on very severe lines, and is of 4 sativ-finished silk. The waist is trimmed with a lace fichu, and a spray of orange blossoms that starts from the left shoulder goes across the bust, and fin- ishes inside of the ends of the ichu. The veil is unusually long and is made of tulle. Vou. XXXIL., No, 87 LACE ON WEDDING GOWNS. ATIN and point-lace always go ther S ina or pow and a very fo arm ove is made with the front breadth all o point-lace and the fulness around the back of the skirt also of point-lace. This is a very expensive style of gown, especially as the waist—which is made in surplice fash- ion, the folds crossing over to the left side— has one of the sides entirely of the same lace, and elbow sleeves of the lace with deep ruffles. In this gown the orange blossoms are straight across the front breadth of the skirt and around the entire skirt just above the lace flounces, making it look as though there were a piece of menterie entirely composed of orange blossoms. SILK WEDDING GOWNS. WHITE silk gowns are exceedingly fashion- able, and in many instances are more suitable than the satin for wedding gowns. They are not quite as ex- pensive, for it is easier to get a good quality of silk or less money than the sat- in that will look well, and poor satin does not look well even when lined with albatross cloth, as is often done in the long trains to make them ny —_. A gros n silk is better than a lets a taffeta is too poor. But what is com- monly known as white silk makes a very charming gown. The same design of POINT-LAOR AND ORANGE-BLOSSOM WED- pine cows. An original wedding gown is made of point-lace with a front breadth to the over-skirt of white net, which is covered with artificial orange blossoms and leaves. The body of the waist is of white satin with yoke of chiffon, and , Sleeves and bertha of point-lace. The veil is of tulle, fastened to the hair with a coronet of orange blossoms, and a long spray of the flowers goes across the waist from the right shoulder to the left. costume can be carried out in a white silk as in white satin, but just now there are more prin- cesse gowns made up in the white silk than in the satin, and the princesse effect is very fash- jonable. An attractive, simple, and quite inexpensive gown is made with a shaped front breadth; the sides and back are in habit shape, and are fastened down over the sides of the front breadth. At the bottom of the skirt the front breadth and the side pieces do not come quite to the edge of the skirt but hang down over the flounce which is attached to the skirt lining. This Sitnes can or cannot be covered with lace. It will of course look richer if the lace fs used, but the gown will not be a failure by any means if it is omitted. It can be made to look more elaborate by the use of narrow pearl passementerie outlining the sides and the bottom of the front breadth; or lace insertion can be used, or lace appliqué. The waist is prettiest when made in the soft surplice folds, showing a neck in V shape or white lace. The sleeves are long, tiglit-fitting, with a fall of lace over the top that goes down across the front of the waist, thee or ends falling down on to the skirt. This model can be made up for very little expense, comparatively speaking. TRAVELLING GOWNS. S° many brides are married in their travelling gowns now —or their so-called travelling gowns, for they, as a rule, find it necessary to put on a simpler gown to take a journey than the one that is worn during the ceremony—that it is necessary to give some special direc- tions for this style of costume. Silk travelling gowns—that is, so-called travelling gowns—are very attractive made in the light shades, particularly in the silvery gray or in the white. They are made after the fash- ion of the reception gowns and trimmed elaborately with lace. A very graceful gown of this description, made of a blue-gray silk with a soft satin finish, was worn the other day by a young widow. Half-way down the skirt was a deep band of guipure lace. It was put on so that it went across the front and side breadths half-way between the belt and the hem of the skirt. This lace gradually sha itself down the back of the skirt until it came nearly to the hem. The same idea was repeated on the waist in another band of guipure, and there was a belt, with ends, made of the lace. is was very odd, because the lace fitted tightly over the ribbon around the waist, and then the ends were tied in front. With this costume was worn a white lace bonnet or toque trimmed with white ostrich tips and rhinestone ornament. On the same lines a white silk gown is being made; but the lace, in stead of coming around the skirt, is put on in large pieces of appliqué, and is of the heavy guipure—a dead white, not a cream white—and there is a very narrow belt, so that the gown looks almost like a princesse,

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HARPER’S BAZAR FULL FRONT VIEW, SHOWING HIGH FRENCH COIL AND CORRECT SIZE OF POMPADOUR. BACK VIEW OF YOUNG GIRL’S YOUNG GIRL’S COLIFFURE—POMPADOUR AND BRAID. COTFFURE MODIFIED POMPADOUR—HAIR BACK FROM BACK VIEW OF MODIFIED POMPADOUR, SIDE VIEW OF MODIFIED POMPADOUK, THE FACE SHOWING FLAT COIL. [Sex Pace 789.)

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780 HARPER’S BAZAR BRIDEMAIDS’ GOWNS. HAT the bridemaids should wear at the wed- ding is always a serious question, but now there are more than the usual number of styles to choose from. For an autumn wed- ding nothing is prettier than gowns of pale yellow cloth with yellow or deep cream lace jackets; or figured silks in two shades of yellow also with the lace coats, worn with yellow hats of tulle and ribbon com bined and trimmed with two shades of yellow feathers. When the entire wedding party is gowned in yellow of these varied shades the effect is simply charming. tucked or puffed silks now easily obtain- able. A pattern for the foundation revers of silk accompanies that of the bodice. Of any nartow material, such as crépe, veiling, silk, or satin, 16 to 18 yards will be required to make this costume. GIRL’S MAID-OF-HONOR GOWN. RESDEN flowered taffeta, with narrow satin stripes, is the mate- | rial in which the model for the girl’s cut paper pattern design (shown on this page) is rendered. The skirt is in five gores, closing in the centre of the back uader two inward- WHITE TAFFETA WEDDING GOWN. HE wedding gown seen upon this page, and of which a cut paper pattern is issued with this pumber, shows a charming rendering of glacé taffeta combined with Irish point-lace. The un der - petticoat, which may be made according to lines of model skirt No. 139, has a deep lace flounce across the front, which is seen where the skirt parts at the left side of the front. The lace for this flounce should be twenty-two inches deep, or, if a less costly garniture be desired, a knife-pleating of mousseline, chiffon, or taffeta of same depth would make a fashionable substitute. The skirt is made upon a shaped model, and has front, side, and centre back gores, the last flaring into a long train in the centre of the back. In making the skirt ot narrow-width material, great exactness must be shown in following the gore outlines, and each seam must be carefully pressed. An interlining of thin crinoline should be given to the train, and, where the appearance of weight is desired, a sheet of thin cotton batting should be placed on each side of the crinoline. The long skirt is trimmed with a flat applied lace edging, and should be finished underneath with a pinked dust ruffle. The bodice is made over model waist lining No. 139, and bas a seamless centre back, and drar front that is stretched over the lining without darts and laps at left side. Here the fastening is made under white velvet rosettes with rhinestone centres. The vest and high cul lar are of lace over silk, and foundation patterns for both accompany the waist pattern. The costume rendered in color would prove most available for dinner or other formal occasions. The sleeves are of the prevalent close sheath form, and may be made of any of the ready GIRL'S MAID-OF-HONOR GOWN. Cut Paper Pattern No. 1018.—{See Page 791.) Wuttr SATIN AND POINT-LAOR Weeping gown. The skirt is made with two flounces in front and one deep flounce at the back. The tunic over-skirt is bordered with insertion, and the back breadth is trimmed with a lace flounce that falls over the flounce on the under-skirt. The veil is of tulle with a lace edge. The sleeves and collar are of white chiffon, but can be made also of satin. turning pleats. The lines for the ruffles are indicated ’ by perforations in the pattern. These should be of satin ribbon an inch and three-quarters wide. The bodice, which should close in the back, has a white vest intro- duced, the lines for which are also perforated in the lining pattern, The slight fulness of the front is gather- ed into the waist-line on each side of the vest. The back of the bodice is slightly full, and the centre opening is con- I cealed in the folds. The collar passes about the shoulders, : and is brought forward and buttoned into place at the left side of the front. Where desired, the front of the ; bodice may be finished and the collar adjusted separately. } A pattern for the silk foundation collar is included with f that of the bodice. The sleeves are of the close-fitting mousquetaire variety, and in the original model, like the vest and collar, were of mousseline de soie. j To make the costume as pictured for girl of standard thirteen-year size, one will require 7 yards of silk 20 inches WHITE TAFFETA WEDDING GOWN. wide ; 5 yards of mousseline (narrow width), and 8 bolts Cat Paper Pattern No, 202.—(See Page 191.) of pink satin ribbon 1} inches wide.

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i. aa ee A CONTUMACIOUS PAIR BO” EE TE SEA ISS ABBY CAREW sat ar AS 32> LAB in her rocking-chair by a rr (_) the window with an 3 C24 open letter in her band. S3F She was rocking hard, and showed signs of great agitation. Her old faded cheeks had lighted up new fires, her eyes snapped re- sentfully, her fingers moved nervously, and the late September w = sun, streaming through the open shutters, = fa ras a a ee GvEea.i~ seemed to stare in won- der at the rakish sidewise twist of her cap, and at her cap- strings bristling excitedly. It was after four o'clock, and Mrs. Withers was coming to tea at five. The fire was freshly made, and the teakettle was warming up. The table looked very cozy with its quaint old china and fine damask that were among her inheritances, and Miss Abby usually surveyed them with warm admiration and pride. She particularly enjoyed displaying them before Mrs. Withers, who possessed no heirlooms and had no particular antecedents. But now she wished Mrs. Withers were not coming, and that she were going to have tea by herself. She was greatly upset by her brother Henry's letter, which related to a matter utterly obnoxious to her. She soliloquized thus about it while tilting backward and forward in her rocking-chair. “_ couldn't bear it, no way in the world, livin’ down there winters in a little squiz-up city house, with all that everlastin’ talkin’ an’ noise. 1 should die o’ lonesomeness. ‘Ain't I tried it? ‘Ain't I been there a month at a time, over am*over agin, settlin’ down reg’lar, same as if I'd come to stay, an’ ‘ain’t 1 had to quit sudden every time and come traipsin’ home? My head used to git so sore with the doors a-bangin’, and the chargin’ in an’ out o’ them children, that I couldn’t bear to tech it. Las’ time, I thought I'd fixed Henry and Car’line so’s they shouldn’t ever mention it agin, but-seems like they've got a skeer now through my havin’ a tech o’ pneumonia last winter. Just the very reason for not worryin’. I've had it! J ‘ain't ever heard of anybody’s havin’ it more’n once; but Car’'line says you can have it as Jong as you keep on havin’ lungs. I ain't goin’ to believe it!” Miss Abby talked much to herself in the absence of human companionship; though she was seldom without an audience, for her ‘‘’umble friends of the barn-yard,” as they were designated by the Rev. Eliphalet ZY, greatly favored the cheerful kitchen, and pecked persist- ently and hopefully at the spotless floor. “He's a-sayin’ that if I can’t make up my mind to spend the winter with him and Car'line, he wants I should shut up the house an’ go to Mis’ Withers’s till spring, or else et Mis’ Withers to come here. He ain’t willin’ for me to be alone. Suppose I should git paralysis? he says. Pa- ralysis! It ‘ll be time to talk about that consider’ble later on. Lain't but fifty-seven. 1 call it real unkind of bt A And Mis’ Withers ain't no company—just a potterin’ body as eats for two and talks for ten. The hens is more company. I can talk to them without fear o’ bein’-spoke back at. Besides, hens is kind o’ answerin’ critters, any-- way, and they can be driv’ out if they git troublesome. But Mis’ Withers couldn’t be driv’ out, dead o’ winter. An’ as fur goin’ there, to pass a whole winter under them topplin’ chimleys! Well, it’s a mercy she ava’t scrunched or set afire long ago. An’ her settin’-room carpet’s so green it disagrees with my stummick. I never could stan’ it to face it every livin’ day for five months,” A well-meant but inadequate bark warned Miss Abby at this point of her guest’s approach. _ Wolf had spied a large figure laboring heavily up the road, and had sounded his note, whether of welcome or protest no one but himself knew. Henry Carew, Miss Abby’s only brother, had taken him- self to New York in his youth, had found congenial occu- pation, prospered, married, and raised a large family, and wasa contented and happy man. His one real anxiety was caused by his sister's pertinacity in clinging to the old house where she was born, in an obscure, out-of-the-wa spot in the extreme north of New a painfully dif- ficult of approach in bad weather, and a wearisome jour- ney at the best of times. Her only near neighbor was Mrs. Withers, who was some years her senior, and whose house was a little way down the road. Henry’s efforts to break his sister’s regelution increased with every win- ter’s experience. Ske made annual visits to his house in the city, but always returned at the end of a month at most, with the glad eagerness of one who has escaped from bondage. Her solitary existence in the lonely old house and her advancing age were sources of constant anxiety to her brother and his wife, who foresaw a day of dire need and trouble. They advanced every argument to detain her, and spread many snares about her feet, but she opposed to them all a pathetic and silent, but im- movable, determination that could not fail to win. She was fortified against every appeal, and her final outburst on the occasion of her last visit—‘‘ I want to go home; my heart ain't bere; it’s in the old house where my mo- ther lived and all my folks lived. That's my home, and I'd rather die there than live anywhere else ”—remained unanswered until now. Henry’s patience was much tried, it must be admitted, when the summons came ev- ery winter for his wife or his daughter Esther to make that comfortless journey over the frozen country to nurse Miss Abby through some illness brought about by her natural aptitude for imprudences. But both these wo- men were of that class of quiet heroines who face the disagreeable pews meg and with cheerful looks, and if they ever thought Miss Abby selfish or exacting, or found their enforced attendance a burden, the sick woman never knew it. Last winter she had had an at- tack of pneumonia, and had not since regained her full measure of health, so that her sister-in-law felt iy Fees dread of the winter presently coming on. Henry shared in these fears, and the present letter was the outcome of their earnest consultation. The letier travelled with a companion whose destination BY IDA’PRANCES NELSON was reached a quarter of a mile down the road. Henry Carew had written to Mrs. Withers also, and both letters were couched in the strongest terms that he had at com- mand. Mrs. Withers was alsoa rower of a large house. Her son William, in Chicago, had not been neglect- ful of his mother’s welfare, and had exhausted himself in arguments and entreaties in an effort to get her to leave her home or receive a companion. But she had proved so contumacious that be had at last desisted, and was now awaiting the inevitable with what resignation he could summon. Mr. Carew urged upon the old lady the serious- ness of her own and Miss Abby’s lonely situation, and pre- sented some rather ghastly possibilities for her considera- tion. Anxiety had made him bold, and very nearly cruel. When the two old ladies met on the door-sil] in the late sunlight, neither had given way un inch, but each, feeling the letter in her pocket, permitted herself a rigid ee of the other’s manner, dress, speech, and personal pecul- iarities. ‘* Jest to see how it would seem to be settin’ opposite ’em day in an’ day out,” they explained to them- selves. Miss Abby’s hospitality was a shade more demon- strative than usual, but Incked somewhat of its customary warmth, and Mrs. Withers’s exuberance of manner was a trifle moderated. Miss Abby was the younger of the two women, but she permitted herself none of the frivolities of dress that the other rejoiced in. She wore her gray hair in a “ pug” behind, and covered it with a generous cap, under which the front was drawn down smoothly and folded back above her ears. Her cap-strings were never of a lively color—black strings with a black cap for every-day wear, lavender with white for dress occa- sions. Her waists were so simple they might almost have been termed ‘‘ jumpers”; her skirt breadths hung straight down, and there were none too many of them. She wore prunellas and white stockings. When she went out her head-covering was a bonnet of such respectability that no one could or would have pointed the finger of scorn at its antiquated shape. In winter a heavy shawl, fastened in front by a large carnelian pin, clung about her slim figure, and in summer a thin one of delaine was worn in a négligé manner, somewhat off her shoulders. She wore calico in the house all the year round, except when she visited at Henry’s. The young Carews thought but poorly of calico, and prevailed on their relative to put on merino, which had its influence, no doubt, in sending her home again. ; Mrs. Withers, on the contrary, loved to deck her large person in strange fabrics of no uncertain color and of youthful make, They came to her from her daughter- in-law Amanda, who also 1 on her own copy of a fashion magazine after she had familiarized herself with its decrees. Mrs. Withers’s gowns were made with either a ‘‘polenay” or an over-skirt. One of the two was .in- dispensable. In the matter of trimmings she felt herself quite up to date. Plumes nodded in her bonnet in win- ter,and gay flowers in summer. She did not wear a shaw], like Miss Abby; she wore a‘‘dolman.” Her caps, also, were quite unlike those of other old ladies of the neighborhood, and were thought to be much too dressy. They surmounted a row of pale frizzes. a Mrs. Withers surged with heavy gait toward the © chair hospitably indicated by Miss Abby, the ample folds of- her black silk hissing about her, she took immediate and unfavorable note of the Parson, most beloved of Miss Abby’s fowls, who was halting uncertainly about the kitchen, with black eyes cocked Raowinahe up toward the signs of good cheer displayed on the tea table. *T shouldn’t s’pose you could bear to have them fowls scrabblin’ round on your clean floor, and sheddin’ feathers all over creation,” she remarked. ‘‘ Don’t that cluckin’ and scratchin’ ever fret you?” ** Not a mite,” said Miss Abby; “‘ it’s a nice, quiet sound, and I don’t need to notice it if I don’t want to. There’s many sounds I’d have to take notice of. Hens is lots o’ company if you feel lonesome; and if you don’t, you can shoo ‘em out. ’N’ mine don’t shed no feathers round— they know better.” rs. Withers glanced around the cozy kitchen, with its crackling fire, singing kettle, festive little tea table, and comfortable chintz-covered rockers. She thought the one-room arrangement suitable and convenient for a sin- gle woman, but she felt that such simple state would be unbecoming for her as a widow and mother-in-law of her son’s wife. William’s wife was considered ‘‘ dressy.” She wore showy laces and gowns that rustled, and had abundance of leisure in which to play at horticulture and do “art” work. Her social class was of the hearty, ex- pansive, large-lunged sort, and her ruddy charms and easy laughter made her a valued member of it. She had ** faculty,” and was a respected counsellor in the affairs of certain strange organizations, charitable, social, or a combination of the two. Mrs. Withers senior cherished an affection for her daughter-in-law not unmixed with awe. The village people shared the awe, and “ what Amanda said” furnished the last word in most discussions. Amanda disapproved of living and eating in the kitchen, and her mother-in-law could do no less. ‘Don’t you ever feel no call to keep your settin’-room open winters?” she asked. ‘*Nope!” answered Miss Abby, shortly. ‘I consider it’s wasteful to run two fires when one Il do. I always close my settin’-room the 15th o’ September, no earlier an¥ no later, an’ I open it pe year the 15th o’ May, I dou’§~ set in it myself, except when Car'line or the girls is here; but they like it, an’ ’tain’t no trouble in warm weather. But who wants to set up all alone in a settin’-room, ist to look after a fire ’t you don’t need? I should feel like company in my own house,.without nobody to enter- me me. ’N’ I couldn’t bave Parson and the biddies in ere!” ** Well, I should hope not/” said the other woman, em- phatically. ‘I should think you’d ruther have a litter o’ cats round than them hens.” *“No cat ‘ll ever git into my house,” returned Miss Abby, who knew full well that her neighbor had a weak- ness for the animals. The tall old family clock in the corner struck a heavy note at the half-hour, and became at once a subject of criticism because of the tumbling man-o’-war on its face, which rolled in the trough of an emerald sea with ev- ery sway of the pendulum. Mrs. Withers’s husband had been lost at sea when William was in knickerbockers. **Name o’ wonder! Don’t all that billerin’ ever make you feel seasick?” demanded the guest of the day. ‘* The sight of a ship always gives me the creevies. I wish I hadn’t looked at it. I don’ know but my tea’s goin’ to d with me.” “1 s’pose you ain’t so healthy as you used to be,” re- sponded the other, politely sympathetic. ‘‘ I never think o’ the billerin’, I ben used to it all my life. I ’ain’t ever seen that ship settin’ still or that pend’lum hangin’ down straight since I come into the world. Jim Adams tends to it when I go ’way for a spell to Henry’s house. An’ it’s a splendid time-keeper, that vessel—it ‘ain't ever va- ried a hair. You got a cuckoo, ‘ain't you?’ The cuckoo clock was a present from Amanda on the last Christmas day but one. It had struck Miss Abby speechless the first time she heard it, and she held it in aversion. “ Yes,” replied the guest, complacently ; ‘* it came from Chicago, an’ I suppose it cost a heap. It makes an awful pretty sound, "Manda says they ain't a bit common.” “No, I s’pose not,” remarked Miss Abby, pensively. ‘Maybe there's sonfe that wouldn’t like to hear an imi- tation bird a-blowin’ the hours at ‘em so eager. It might put’em ina fluster and remind 'em their time was passin’.” This thorn rankled a little in the elder woman's breast, and she fell upon the “‘ green truck” in the window as her next subject of remark. They were common plants enough—a wandering-jew, several flourishing geraniums, a promising calla, and a fine oxalis in full bloom. Mrs. ithers also had a collection of plants, but they were not **common ”—Amanda had said so. They consisted of a few threatening cactuses, a lily in its third year, which was guarant to reach the flowering period in its sev- enth, a “ butterfly ” orchid on a piece of board, and one or two rarities, with whose habits and needs she was so unfamiliar that it was doubtful if they ever arrived at a state of being which would be quite comfortable for them- selves or a source of pride to her. The two ladies found many subjects upon which they disagreed very substantially, but each one brought them nearer to a state of real friendliness, as it fixed more and more firmly their separate conelusions about Henry Carew’s proposition, They parted at seven o'clock, quite content with each other, Miss Abby walking part, way down the road with her guest. Then, as the elder woman trod heavily on alone, she hurried back to lock herself in the house, and, with her back against the door, to survey her ee in an ecstasy of affection. She felt as though she had wrested her home from the hands of a despoiler, She had tried, while Mrs. Withers was present, to fancy ber a fixture there, having a certain right—wanting, perhaps, to sit up after nine o’clock; to = a flaunting red petticoat on the respectable coal-oil , whose broad, unwinking stare had never known re- straint; toopen the sitting-room,contrary to all precedent; to ring in the family of cats and ring out the family hens; perhaps even proposing to stop the man-o’-war clock and start the cuckoo! Every panting breath Miss Abby drew a pessionsta pres. inst any such rev- olution in her household, it was still more impossible for her to contemplate an evacuation of her home and an abandonment of her feathered family, she sat down pres- ently, when all this tremor of rebellion had died away, and with the calmness of unalterable determination com- mitted her decision to paper. . Mrs. Withers’s mental attitude was not different from Miss Abby’s, though she felt no excitement. As she walked steadily on down the road towardg her own house, she heard Miss Abby’s hurrying steps Behind her speed- ing homewards. She even heard a.half-suppressed sob of relief as the other turned away from her, and got her first inkling that perhaps she herself had been under fire during the last two hours. “IT bet she had a letter too!” she exclaimed to herself; “*notbin’s more likely. Well, she needn’t ’a’ been afraid! Henry Carew must take us for a couple of old noddies.” When she had locked ‘her door behind: her and lighted her lamp with the red paper shade, this old lady looked about her and rejoiced. She let-her glance dwell upon the cuckoo clock and the greem carpet and the collection of alien plants, and her heart yearned over them. **You needn't tie a knot in your handkerchief yet, *Liza Withers, to remind ‘you you ain’t a fool,” she re- marked, finally, and then she too sat down and wrote to Henry Carew. Henry's efforts continued, however, for some time longer. William and Amanda supported him nobly, and several letters passed, but in the end the two women came off victorious. They wouldn't stir. The utmost that Henry or his wife could accomplish was to enlist the services of Jim Adams in their behalf. Jim was their nearest neigh- bor. His labors, summer and winter, carried him by the two houses once or twice daily, and Henry Carew made a bargain with him to ‘each morning and exchange greetings with their occupa In the event of his shout of inquiry not being answe he was to investigate, and trouble came, to summon He was to make occa- nal reports to Mr, ~The two old ladies, very amicably inclined tow as frequently as the weath permitted, compared notes and laughed with glee at H@nry’s fears. There was no longer any concealment m them. Henry's project had been uncovered soon after the night of the tea, and was the subject of comment and biting satire at every sub- sequent meeting. They never tired of it. They played about it with a blithesome humor that did not flag. Mrs. Withers rallied Miss Abby on the slow pace at which her paralysis and pneumonia travelled. “You'll jest fade away of old age ’fore they catch up ou,” she ch at her friend’s approach. ‘I thought folks said you was bedridden.” 5 “If they meant ’t I'd got rid o’ my bed and took to my feet, —_ re right, the other would answer, jocosely, her fat shoulders shaking with appreciation of her own wit. ‘Suppose we was to give Jim Adams a scare,” sug- left to themselves, became each other. They met nd the state of the roads their physical condition, eet

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HARPER’S BA THE “VILLAGE ROOM"—WINDOW, CORNER SEAT, AND BOOKSHELVES, BY VILLAGE CARPENTER. DECOKATED CASKET IN PEAU ‘ “THE DEACON,” “ BED-TIME.” AN OLD-FASHIONED BOY. METAL BUCKLES AND BRO PHOTOGRAPHS. METAL-WORK

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‘"S BAZAR THE “VILLAGE ROOM”"—FIREV’'LACE AND CORNER SEAT, BY VILLAGE CARPENTER. 1 ON WORK—FIRE SET. KET IN PEAVOCK DESIGN ‘ LES AND BROOCHES. DOOR-HANGING IN BLUE AND WHITE NEEDLE-WORK, SOFA CUSHION—THE GRAPE-ARBOR. Worked by Mrs. Sarah Suell, in 1770, Fifth Descendant of John Alden. AL-WORK. BLUE AND WHITE NEEDLE-WORK. [Sze Pace 789.}

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HARPER’S BAZAR “I CONSIDER IT’S WASTEFUL TO RUN TWO FIRES, WHEN ONE ~ “2 Miss Abby once, ‘‘an’ hide when he went by, an’ What do vou spose he'd do?’ He'd turn pale,” replied her friend. .‘* The first pail h me t she added, her flights into the hitherto un t | regions of puns growing bold and even hysterical rhis pleased them both immensely—but they never dared put the suggestion to the test I be’n thinkin’ we ought to make our wills,” said Mrs Withers, on another occasion seein’ as folks ain't lookin’ to find us here inthe spring Who you think I'd ought to ave the cuckoo to? Manda’s got one.’ \ 1 better bequeath it to the Vermont Central Rail road—they'd admire to have it in the deepot,” was the il Ve It must be admitted, however, that these pleasantries und the constant surveillance of Jim Adaras made both the ladies a trifle nervous rhey did not admit it to each her, of course, but each was conscious that she was ing exceedingly close attention to her own bodily ‘ te, and not a few long-familiar sensations assumed an unfamiliarity and a sinister aspect that caused many in wardtremors. Nevertheless,when Jim Adams's big lungs broke the morning stillness each day, his amiable inquiry if there was “‘any news” was met by mocking denial, delivered through the closed window of kitchen or sitting reom I'wo old heads shook derisively and two mouths formed words of dismissal. Jim passed on, not without some feeling of chagrin that nothing of interest occurred to report to Mr. Carew His sense of honor was of the robust and wakeful kind that would not permit him to receive without rendering something in return. He had been employed as a sort of detective, to spy out the ap proach of calamity, and having been paid for his services, looked for something to happen immediately, in order that he might be anid to have earned the clean new bank note that lined one side of his old wallet. Mr. Carew paid him for his assistance in a possible emergency, but until the emergency offered he could not feel hinwelf fully invested with the wealth inside the wallet But, alas! im midwinter the opportunity came, The season had not been so bitter as usual, but it was wet and raw, and Miss Abby's Imprudence brought.on a severe cold. Late in January came one of those blinding, sting ing visitations of snow, wind, and sleet that fill the news papere with casualties. It lasted for two days, and the drifts were piled high in all directions, As soon as it was practicable, Jim Adams pushed his unwilling horse through the drifts and made his way to Mrs. Withers’s. a sign of life was to be seen, not a sound to be heard. He knocked loudly at the door; the silence of death followed. He knocked again, louder, but receiving no answer, prepared to force his way in. Mrs, Withers was more afraid of fire than of thieves, and her house was not barricaded like Miss Abby’s, so that Jim easily broke into it No one was in the kitchen. He ealled, but no voice answered. He listened; the silence shook his com- posure somewhat She's gone up to Miss Abby's, o’ course, before the storm set in, and couldn't get back,” he assured himself He opened a closet door. There hung a heavy winter cloak, and above it a plumed bonnet, both of which he knew well. His hair began to stir a little. Mighty queer,” he said, his reluctant feet moving slowly toward the sitting-room door. The place was deadly cold. He felt a strange unwillingness to turn the knob. Presently he did so, and pushed the door slowly open a little way. Then he stood still on the threshold, his muscles stiffened, his pulse stilled. No wonder the house was silent! The soul that had dwelt there had fled. The fire in the stove was dead, the cactus es and their fragile sisters were dead, a pulpy, frost- bitten company, and a form was stretched in the hair-cloth rock er, from which Jim's eyes, after one horror-stricken glance, averted themselves. The green carpet stared bravely back at him as he let in the sunlight through the open door, the only thing in the house that held its own—except one; as he closed the outer door after him, the cuckoo ealled the hour. “Lord! I been lookin’ for somethin’ all winter, but who'd ‘a’ thought it would re’lly happen?” he exclaimed, as he clambered in haste on to his horse’s back and push- ed on up towards the Carew house. “T'll have to git Miss Abby to come down here while I go back for some help. I hope to gosh there ‘ain’t nuthin’ happened up there/” The look of the place was not reas- suring, however. A snow-drift was piled half-way up the kitchen door, though not so high but that Miss Abby could easily have broken her way through it if she had tried. A mournful howl came from the wood-shed, and there were sounds of distress from the adjoining hen roost. Three double knocks on the kitchen door with the stump which he used as a persuader for the horse bring- ing no response, Jim forced the drift aside and tried the latch. To his great relief, the door opened. The kitchen was empty, but there was still a little fire in the stove, the man-o’-war was still ‘‘ billerin’,” the green things in the window still alive. A feeble voice from the adjoining small bed-room lifted a load of apprehension from his heart, but he walked over to the half-open door of it only to behold Miss Abby stretched on the cot-bed in great suf- fering and weakness. ‘* You sick?” he asked, a great fear taking possession of him. Miss Abby moved her bead slowly in affirmation. ** How long you been so?” he asked again. **Since the first o’ the storm,” answered the sick wo- man, —.. ‘I was able to get about a little—till this mornin’, an’ kep’ the fire in—somehow—but I ain't no strength left. I managed to undo the door—thinkin’ you might—come—but I couldn’t do—no more.” * What's the matter with you?” asked Jim. ‘‘’Ain’t you got no drops, nor nuthin’ you kin swaller?” ‘* No,” came the reluctant admission. ‘‘ Seems like it’s pneumonia again.” Jim caught bis breath. He considered Miss Abby’s doom sealed. ‘‘ What you want I should do for you?” he asked next, feeling helpless before this accumulation of catastrophes, and dimly conscious that his coming report to Mr. Carew would not be devoid of interest. "LL DO.” “You better fix the fire—first,” panted Miss Abby, ‘‘and then—go for Mis’ Withers.” The situation was too much for Jim’s homely faculties, and his discretion went to the winds. “Great Scott! I can’t!” he blurted out. ‘‘ Mis’ Withers is stark—fact is, she can’t come—she’s dead! I just come from there. She's dead as a Hessian.” Jim didn't know what a Hessian was, but the term was familiar and had a convincing sound, and he was so demoralized by his dis coveries of the morning that only the bluntest speech came to his lips. Miss Abby’s face underwent a ghastly change, and presently she turned it, without a word, to the wall, Jim waited for her to recover somewhat from the shock. After a silence of several minutes, she whispered, slowly, ** Then I guess you’!l—have to send—for Mis’ Carew.” **That’s what!” said Jim, beginning to breathe freer “*T'll fix up the fire an’ make you a cup o’ coffee, if you’ll tell me where the things is, and then I'll go back to town and telegraph. I'll send Mis’ Adams up to ‘tend on you till Mis’ Carew gets here. I guess it won't do you no harm to see the doctor, neither.” Then he added, inwardly, ** But I guess you're a goner this time.” He relieved his overstrained emotions by shaking the stove and rattling the fire-irons noisily. The fire was soon burning brightly, and the kettle was put on to boil. At Miss Abby's earnest entreaty, he gave some hasty atten tion to the distressed fowls and wretched dog. The Par- son was admitted to the kitchen for company during his absence. He made a cup of steaming hot coffee, placed it beside Miss Abby's bed, and then hurried off to town with his budget of news. The doctor stopped on his way up to look at the dead woman. Miss Abby asked but one question about her— what did she die of? ‘ Paralysis,” answered the doctor, briefly. Two days later Henry and Caroline arrived. They had had a painful journey, for the country was buried insnow. When they entered the sick-room the sands of Miss Abby’s life were almost run. She put out a feeble hand on the counterpane, and whispered between long pauses for breath: ‘I be’n a sight o’ trouble to you. I’m glad you come. You can settle everything. is’ Adams is goin’ to take the dog and the hens 'n’ the plants. She'll do by ’em same as I would.” After a while.she spoke again. “I s’pose we onght to done the way you wanted. P’r’aps you wouldn’t ‘a’ had to make this journey. But nobody owe, An’ I dun’no’ as I’m sorry, an’ I guess Mis’ Withers is jest as well pleased, now it’s over. Car'line was right about the pneumonia, wa’n’t she?” A faint gleam of humor came into her eyes, and she added, “‘ But the p’ralysis didn’t git me!” Mrs. Withers reposed in a lot all by herself, with a stone coping about it, and a ‘‘showy” head-stone. Miss Abby was laid to rest beside her mother and her father and oth- ers who had fallen asleep earlier. A fragrant box hedg> clasped its arms about them, and later the roses would bloom there. eee A

Page 13

DRESS Correspondents of the Bazan are requested to send in their questions at least three weeks before the answers are needed The Bazan has a very large correspondence, and regrets that it cannot answer any letters by mail. Vv. E. C.—You would best bind the edges of your cape with Persian lamb. Linen thread is ared in real Valenciennes lace.

Maa. ©. A. 8.—You will not be at all pleased with | the effect of your gown if you carry out your idea of white lace sleeves and yoke over yellow silk—it is too sharp a contrast. Black lace will be far better, and I should not advise the yellow silk lining. Have a small round yoke of yellow covered with white, and then have the rest in the black lace. I have jnst seen a | very smart black waist where the black and white laces were combined in this fashion, and it was charm- ing. Put a narrow vest in of the yellow silk with white lace over it, and yellow in the collar.

T. A. B.—Both your daughter and yourself will need black serge or camel’s-hair costumes made with coat and skirt. These can be plain or trimmed with braid. The newest tailor gowns have tight-fitting waiste of cloth. These yon can have made in crépe de Chine or a dall mourning silk, as you prefer. Yon will also need black India cloth or Henrietta cloth gowns more elaborately made, and comfortable wrappers and golf capes. I should advise laying aside your veil and wearing a mourning hat with only a face veil. It would be foolish to have any elaborate er: o-trimmed costumes made here, for the packing will injure them sadly. Do not take too many clothes, for luggage is a nuisance in travelling abroad. M. A. F.—It is certainly difficult for you to decide what style of gown wil! be the best, but there are so many different styles now you can find something that will be both smart and becoming. In Bazar No, 28 a bine and white batiste gown is a good model, and I should hy all means advise the black lace and the licht bine. Do not attempt the Empire gown unless you have an artist of a dressmaker. Be eure and have long lines, and no attempt at defining the waist-line, except below the waist. You must also wear a small bnatle two inches below the belt—this will make your hips look smaller. L. B.—A «tiff «pray of orange blossoms, a white bow with aigrette, or a spray of white roves with leaves worn at the left of the coiffare will look well; or you can, if you wear your hair low, have a emal) flat wreath—the latter is quite a new fashion, but not al- | ways a becoming one. Evizasern, L. M.—Blue, pink, or red cashmere or flanne! frocks, made to wear with a gaimpe, or all in one with smocking in yoke and sleeves, and worn with sheer lawn aprons, are pretty, and will not soll | easily—they will wash also if care be taken. Your other questions you will find answered in Bazar No. 87, in New York Fashions.

Inreeeeten Scusoeinen.—tIt is purposed to have a boy's sult, such as one to which you refer, illustrated in the cut-paper pattern in the Bazar very shortly Poutia.—Plaide are to be worn this winter, and I | think you will be well pleased if you combine a plaid with the material of which you enclose sample ; or you can make it decidedly different by using black satin or fine biack cloth with it. Black and brown are very smart colors together, and brown and green are always fashionable; it is a French combination that is most satisfactory. Do not use a brown and red plaid with | the plain brown. You can either have the flounce, or make your skirt into an over-skirt and have a plaid | flounce on the under-skirt.

Apvice To Morners.—Mrs. W INSLOw’s SOOTHING Syxur should always be used for children teething. It soothes the child, softens the gums, allays all pain, png colic, and is the best remedy for diarrhea. —{ Adv ALWAYS THE SAME. THERE never is an change in the superior | ualities of the Gail Borden Eagle Brand Con- iensed Milk. In delicate flavor, richness, and per- fect- keeping qualities it can be guaranteed. It has stood First for forty years. Avoid unknown brands.—{ Adv.)

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Page 14

GOOD FORM Correspondents of the Batam are requested to send jn their jueetions af least three weeks before the anewers are needed The Basset hase very large correspondence, and regrets that annot anewer any letters by mall Mavy.—It is quite correct for a bride to carry & prayer-book instead of a bouquet. One of the pretti- est wedding prayer-books that I have ever seen con- talned merely the marriage service, the marriage cer- tifleate, blanks for the signature of the minister who performed the ceremony, and of the members of the bridal party and the near relatives and intimate friends who were present. The binding was white vellum, with the bride’s maiden name and the date of the marriage engraved on the cover in gold lettera. Such a book has to be made up and bound expressly for the person who will ase it. She carries it ap the alsle and hands | it to the minister to read the service from, and it is a very lovely little keepsake. The bridal party should enter the room in the following order: firet the two ushers, who should walk together; then the bride- | maid, walking alone; then the bride, with the person | who will give her away. The best man should walk into the room with the groom, just behind the minis- ter, a moment or two before the bridal party come in. Peartexiry.-In waiting on the table at a meal a servant should substitute a fresh plate for a soiled plate after every course, either a regular place plate or the plate which will be used for the succeeding course. This is correct at a luncheon, dinner, break- fast,or any meal. At a dinner where twelve people are present the dishes for every course should be passed around the table, beginning at the woman guest of honor, the host or the hostess being served last. A New Keaper —Ata hotel table one is usually given a bill of fare to order from, and there is nuthing on the table when one takes a seat but bread and butter, pos- sibly, fruit, and perhaps such hors-d'ewvre as celery and radishes and olives at dinner, and cake at luncheon or sapper. One orders from the bill of fare in regular courses; at dinner, first soup, then fish, then an entrée, and afterwards a choice of the substantial meats with vegetables and potatoes, next a salad, And last a des- sert. Breakfast and lancheon or supper are ordered in the same way; one makes a choice where a choice is given in the bill of fare for a course, and one may omit any course one does not care to eat. Certainly it is obligatory for a gGest to take leave of @ hostess at any entertainment, except perhaps a crowded reception or a tea where one only staye a few m nates, aud where the hostess is so occupied in receiving her guésts that she may not have the time to see those who go out; bat euch a reception is unusual and only given in a large city. The rule is to take leave of one's hostess and express thanks for her hospitality, under all cir- cumetances and at every kind of an entertainment. Nawnix.—Seckel is the right name for the pear you mention Custaman.—Here are a few suggestions, if you wish a diversified programme: For one feature, pass around to all present pictures of prominent men, caricatures and good photographs which have been cut out of the daily papers and magazines. The names under the pictures should be cut off and each picture numbered, and a card with numbers provided for each guest. A few minutes are allowed for each one to guess who every picture representa, Here is another idea: Give to every one present a card containing twelve or more quotations from Shakspere, or any famous sayings, with a blank space left after each quotation ; the name of the play and of the character who makes the saying must be written inthe blenk. Another game is called “Noted People.” A circle is formed, and a leader chosen, who is pat in the middle. He begins to de- ascribe some famous persovage in history or living, giv- Ing, for instance, such a description as, I see before me a woman who weare a small head gear and a large ruche; she is very beautiful, and speaks Knglich with a slight foreign sccent; ehe has many lovers,” and #0 on—the anewer being Mary Queen of Scots, Of the same or- der of game is one called “ Mistakes,” where a leader makes a statement, purposely making it false—na, for inatance, “I have lately read a poem called ‘In Me moriam,' by Robert Browning "—calling ov each one iu order to correct the statement, Read answer to “ Marie” in Bazan No. 17, where you will find a very interesting entertainment de- scribed. Just after the refreshments are served is the time for the presentation and making speechea, Sieren.—The answer to which you refer would uot apply exactly to the sale you propose to have. Send out Invitations worded : Mrs. William White Mise Watson At Home Friday, September the fifteenth from four until six o'clock. 4 Washington Avenue Sale of Water-Colors and Pastels. Arrange the articles you want to exhibit on little ta- bles so that they are shown off to the best advantage ; put vases of flowers on the tables and pretty covers. Have one table spread for tea, and make hot tea dur- ing the afternoon; serve iced tea also from a viase pitcher, pouring it into glasses; have dishes of fancy cakes avd biscuits on the tea table, and everything | about it dsinty and orderly. Do not decorate anything that will not be useful; avoid toillet-covers, tidies, plaques, or any Of the decorated trifles which get “mussy” so soon. You can make charming book and magazine covers by painting colored linen with a pretty design, and nothing is so apt to take as deco- rated dinner and luncheon cards and small menus; writing-pads with linen decorated backs and smal! pencils attached are almost es popular, as are soiled- clothes lists, with linen covers decorated in water-col- ora, picture-frames made of rongh white paper with flower decorations, frames for holding half a dozen or fewer cabinet and card photographs, painted blotters, and painted bonbonniéres, You might have decorated ebina, too, and a set of writing-desk articles, and of course little pictares—marines and flower which are always attractive: and nothing ts better to exhibit it than portraits in pastels, if one has the knack of making good likenesses. I would advise you to get some of Bontet de Monvel’s decorated and lastrated books, and cheese models from them to copy. HARPER’S BAZAR “ FULL-FASHIONED” HOSIERY '=*{*%ge axprencton and means that i knit oo no seams to annoy nor creases to blister. RARITANIA HOSIERY 's;:.fullashioned,” tne i texture, tat dyed, high-class strong, costs no more than other hosiery of similar quality. A dealers have it. Not sold at mill. Each package has a label bearing the word “ RARITANIA,” of which the heading of this advertisement is a facsimile, The name is also on cach pair of hose. NORFOLK & NEW BRUNSWICK HOSIERY CO., - New Brunswick, N. J. SOLD BY FIRST-CLASS DEALERS. HARPER’S NEW CATALOGUE Descriptive list of their publications, with portraits of authors, will be sent | free to any address on receipt of (postage) ten cents. Vout. XXXI1., New 87 THE HOUSEHOLD] . Correspondents of the Bazan are requested to send im their questions at least three weeks before the answers are needed. The Bazan has a very large correspondence, and regrets that it cannct answer any letters by mail. A Grarero. Reapen. —The only costly things which, to my mind, could have any place in your apartment are those which derive their value from artistic quali- ties, as in the case of wood-carvings, pictures, brasses, and rugs, or even certain draperies ; but mere costli- ness in the way of furniture, as in satin cushions and covers, would utterly ruin it for me. Since your bath-room door is opposite your front door, be sure to have a screen to protect it. Between your dining and sitting room doors, and on either side of your hall door, put tables and chairs—that is, one table and one chair, of course. An errand-boy some- times has to wait, and there must always be a hall table in every house. Over the table pat a large mir- ror with brass candlesticks on either side. I wish you could-introduace into that angle between the bath-room and the kitchen a long mirror, cutting off the corner ; it would give you so much more light and space. I see no windows in your hall. One of the prettiest dining-rooms I ever saw in a flat belonged to a man who has since become distin- | guished as a decorator. His wood-work was white, and on his walls, instead of paper, he had a blue denim, the white of the wood-work relieving the coldness of the blue. This bine extended only to some sixteen inches below the ceiling, where it was met by a white shelf. The ceiling and frieze were also white. On this white shelf he had placed a series of bine Canton plates and some other bits of bine Canton china In the windows where white muslin curtains, and over them bine curtains matching the walls, so that the whole room became a well thought out scheme of bine and white. Denim can be cleaned by wiping it off with a cloth dipped in ammonia and water, not too wet. Of course it can always be brushed. It would be delightful to make the sitting-room your husband's “smokery,” but then where would you re- ceive your guests? Let him smoke in the dining-room, and keep this room for receiving your visitors, You say it ix very small, but it must be large enough for a long sofa, or divan, against the wall. Put a table at ite head, which would bring it, | fancy, almost in front of your only window. On the opposite side, running from the angle of the wall to the mantel, place a low bookshelf. In front of it a writing-table with candles orlamp. You might have another bookshelf ranning from the end of the divan to the door, even behind the divan, putting your husband's books here, and giving to the whole affair that stamp of dignity which booke always lend. I hope that the mantel covers an open fireplace, and that you can have the most comfortable of chairs drawn up beside it, its back to the window Make this room red, and cover the walls with as many pictures and plaster casts as you can. Have muslin curtains at the window, and a red jute curtain falling over it. Paper your sleeping-room like your hall. White enamelled beds are cheaper than anything else; but I wish that you could put yourself in the way of getting some old carved bed or four-poster with curved top. It adds such an indefimable air to any sleeping apart- meut. Make it your business also to find an old ma- hogany bureau with brass handles—they are so much better than the cheaper modern manufactare. In your part of the country you ought to be able to run across those that are genuine, noeding only to be put in or- der, Put dotted muslin curtains trimmed with lace in the windows, and tie them back with white ribbons. Paper your bath-room, and then varnish it all over with white varnish. Inquirer. —Instead of using carpets, why do you not buy a rug to cover almost your entire floor? If the floor itself is not well laid you could fill the cracks with putty, shellac, and then varnish it. Pot yourself into commanication with some large rug-dealer or carpet manufacturer in any large city For your bed-room would you not be willing to use mattings and rugs? It is so easy to keep them clean, and the best mattings have no smell. Pretty blue rugs come for bed-rooms, aud this would match the wall- paper. You can make your walls and furniture har- monize by taking some one color as your key-note and making everything else in the room blend with it For instance, if you have a flowered paper on the wal! you can take the color of the flower—the red, pink, or yellow—and make that the key-note for the color of your furniture, or you could take the color of a stem, or, again, the green of a leaf, and blend them all to- gether. It becomes a series of distraction in any room to repeat designs too often. If you have a flowered pa- per on the wall, a flowered cover for your chairs would lead to a sense of confusion. If you have a flowered paper on the wall, and among your pictures you have two or three in which brilliant colors are introduced, you ought certainly not to use them together, for the color on your wall would be a constant source of dis- traction where the pictures were concerned, and it stands to reason that to a picture the first place must be given, since the picture is supposed to be a work of art and the wall-paper only an artistic manufacture. When the draperies and the coverings of your furni- ture, then, are to be harmonized with your walls and your carpet you mast take some one color on the wall and bring that down to be repeated in your furniture, but be sure to relieve any flowered surface with a plain color somewhere in the room, and vary the plain sur- face occasionally by some design. Francoise, 8. K.—Within a month or two the Bazar will publish an article on press women. A full college course is probably the best professional preparation for journalism, but much depends on the natural talent and bent of mind. We do not see any reason for improving the color of your hair; the principle thing is to have it well kept and carefully put up. The color seems to us all that can be desired. It is difficult for any one who has not seen you to say what color would be most be- coming. You can best find out by trying samples up to your face and eyes and judge yourself. There is no decided standard of beauty ; blondes or brunettes may be equally handsome, each in her own way. People who can afford to leave New York city in summer ure not very apt to stay there. New York people do not frequent any one resort more than an- other ; a great many go to Newport, some to Maine, and many abroad. Address the New York Genealogical and Biograph- ical Society, 226 West Fifty-eighth Street, New York | city.

Page 15

SSPTEMBER 16, 1899 CLUB WOMEN HE recent decision of the Supreme Court, refusing to the Colonial Dames of America the injunction they de- sired to prevent the Colonial Dames of the State of New York and the Nativnal Society of the Colonial Dames of America from making use of the title ‘* Co- lonial Dames,” will be received with inter- est, as all of these societies are well known throughout the country. The case has been & unique one; and the justice, in giving his opinion, frankly admits that there is no legal precedent applicable, because no financial gain is sought by either society. The Co- lonial Dames of America, which brought the action, counts a membership of about 300, outnumbered by even the Colonial Dames of New York State with its 500 members. The National Society, with branches in thirty-five different States, has upwards of 4000 members. The justice makes the legal points that the a delayed their action for seven or eight years, with full knowledge that the name “ Colonial Dames” was being used by other societies, and that it is not demonstrated that a single person has joined either society under a misapprehension on account of the similar title. Considering these facts, and also that no commercial in- terests are involved or threatened in the general use of the name, it is decided that there is no legal reason why it should not be thus used. All the societies, he concludes, are working for patriotic ends which is most laudable and to be encouraged, and he wishes ‘‘ them all God-speed and the fullest measure of success in their good efforts.” The judgment in each case was for the de- fendant without costs. The trial was an in- teresting event of the early summer, and the battle of the opposing counsels a fine dis- play of legal skill. Its issue should be ac- cepted as final. It seems unfortunate that both of the great patriotic societies of the country—the Colonial Dames, as just now referred to, and the D.R.’s and the D.A.R.’s —should thus split hairs over what seems trifles to outsiders. The fine personnel of all of these societies and the really useful and inspiring work which they do, severally and collectively, ought not to be handi- capped by dissensions. HE Milwaukee College-Endowment Asso- ciation has added a new section, that of Arts and Crafts, to its list of departments, a conformance with the prevalent interest in these matters. Mrs. William Plankinton, the chairman and club woman, whose name is associated with the plans for the biennial next June at Milwaukee, has arranged an educational campaign for the initial year of the section under her charge. A series of illustrated lectures will be given on the spe- cial topics of gem-setting, wood-carving, book-binding, ceramics, textiles, and glass making. Later, it is undoubtedly the in- tention of the department to undertake prac- tical work in the fostering of some one of these crafts in a local community. The En- dowment Association is one of the most in- teresting of the Milwaukee women’s clubs, doing its work under four general sections— those of Literature, Science, Economics, and Parliamentary Law—to which is now added that of Arts and Crafts. No club in that city takes a higher stand in literary work than this, and its announcement of its plan for 1899-1900 is of general interest. The section of Literature is subdivided into three divisions—that of General Literature, Bibli- cal Literature, and Musical Literature. The General Literature course is to begin with a lecture on Robert Browning, to be followed by five interpretive readings from the same poet by Browning students. There will be a course of six lectures on the New Testa- ment, and another course will include six on other Biblical subjects. o*%e N Musica] Literature there will be a lecture on ‘‘ Symphony,” preparatory to a series of orchestral concerts that are to be given in Milwaukee next winter, a recital of the love- songs of the Brownings, an illustrated paper on Brahms, and a lecture whose title, *‘ Un- published Interviews with Great Musicians,” is suggestively interesting. The Science and Economic sections have equally valuable programmes laid out. A part of the work of the latter section includes a series of twelve lectures on ‘‘ Economics in its Rela tion to the Arts and Sciences”—a further testimony to the universal interest in the latter subject. The association rents a room in the Athenzum, the famous woman’s club- house at Milwaukee, where a reference- library pertaining to its work is established. The plan of providing a list of reference- books is to be commended to any club able to avons for such. Many of the calendars have a bibliography of the subject studied during the season appended, but in case of large clubs the plan of the Milwaukee or- ganization might easily be followed with profit. The queries that come constantly to this office relating to topics suggested in a club programme, and about which the club woman is asked to write a comprehensive CO Nae MR a EI tl, A a EN: th ale OS Ri HARPER’S BAZAR HE VERY WORD “OPERATION” STRIKES TERROR TO a woman’s soul. Nearly always these operations become necessary through neglect. If there are frequent and excessive times of pain, get the right advice at once and stop taking chances. It write to Mrs. Pinkham, at Lynn, Mass., for it, and if you let the trouble run along it will surely cost you a great deal of pain, and may mean an operation. / Miss Saran J. Granam, Sheridanville, | Pa., writes : “ DEAR Mrs. PInKHAM,—I had suffered f for several years with female troubles and € doctored until I was discouraged. I felt wretched and tired of living. I had disease of kidneys, bladder trouble, ® dropsy and bloating, and a large tumor ai had formed; in fact, all my organs were ' out of fix. “Seeing a woman’s letter praising your remedies, I wrote to her, and t she begged of me to try it, telling oe tp. ot, ese | F = bought six botiles of Lydia E. Pink- ham’s Vegetable Compound, and now cannot express my gratitude to you. The tumor began to disappear, and I got better all the time. I believe now that I am entirely cured. “My doctors could not believe it at first, as they all had told me that my case was a hopeless one, and no human power could do me any good. They were astounded. anything that can help other women, I shall be glad to.” If I can say | WOMEN AVOID OPERATIONS It is not safe to wait until the last moment. Head off trouble by prompt attention to it. without Mrs. Don’t be satisfied Pinkham’s advice. the wheat, literally the “cream.” ishing. dish ask your chef to serve Cream of Wheat, you will not be disappointed. You should also ask your Grocer to show you those elegant Cream of Wheat Pictures which he will give you A CURE FOR INSOMNIA- TRADE MARK ream of Wheat A Dainty Breakfast Dish, made solely of the gluten of Pure, healthful, nour- If you want a breakfast dainty or an ideal dessert FREE They are not common prints but artistic Gravures which you will want to hang in the finest room in your house. You will miss it if you do not look them over. CREAM OF WHEAT CO., Minneapolis, Minn. will cost you nothing for advice if you | me all that it had done for her. I | 787 paper, show the need of at least thorough reference lists if the books themselves are provided. “Ts difference,” says an ex-club presi- dent, ‘* between a capable chairman of committee and a chairman of committee without the adjective is one of the things that the club woman does not fully appreci- | ate until she has taken her turn at the head ofaclub. There is nothing, I may add too, thata pr ng is more grateful for, particu- larly if she has been in office long enough to have learned her material, than to have the appointment of sonie suggested committee left to her. She is a member ev officio of every committee, and more or less responsi- ble for each, and she very soon discovers the women who are competent to arrange for and conduct committee work. I found out that it was usually the busiest woman who | did this the best. The matter is simple enough, but needs system, and it is the wo- man whose hours are crowded who appreci- ates the value of method. In the Tuaie role of chairman of a committee in the smaller literary clubs the woman either makes or mars the work of her following. I was struck with this last spring when I found myself, in a literary club to which I belonged, assigned to a committee with, as chairman, a woman whose daily vocation was of a very absorbing kind. Three days after the annual meeting she called her first committee meeting, and ten days later every member of her committee received her as- sigoment of her topic under the general subject for next year, her limitations for its treatment carefully defined, together with suggestions geverally for its consideration, and a short type-written list of reference- books applicable tu the special phase of the topic of which she was to treat. That was an ideal committee chairman, and club presi- dents will rejoice when the list of these grows very much longer than it is at present.” e*e URING the recent convention of col- ored women’s clubs, held at Chicago, Miss Jane Adams, of Hull House, gave a luncheon in honor of a few of the officers and members. Thirteen of the visiting del- egates were present, the occasion ing unique, as it was the only social function offered to colored women by their fairer sisters. Following the luncheon, a larger party of the delegates visited the House and inspected the famous place throughout. They were extremely interested, and were quoted pd those who showed them about as asking the most intelligent questions—an evidence, according to wise heads, of a good mind. Chicago, as it will be remembered, met the issue of fraternity with colored wo- men very squarely and generously. The color-line has not been drawn in one or two of the most important clubs, and the resent- ment on the part of one of the influential organizations to a slight offered to one of its colored members in a hotel was widely printed and commented on at the time of its occurrence. An interesting resolution, it may be added, that was passed at the con- vention above referred to was one deplorin the death of Colonel Ingersoll, who show his friendship for the race by leaving in his will the sum of $1000 to the John Brown Monument Fund. HE Literature Committee of the New Jersey Federation of Women’s Clubs publishes in its series of club programmes a timely one on ‘* Our New Possessions.” The topic is divided under three heads—Hawaii, Puerto Rico, and the Philippines. An ex- cellent list of reference-books accompunies the plan, information regarding which ma be had by addressing Mrs. Florence Kitchel, Perth Amboy, New Jersey. Hawau.—1. (@) Geography: Climate, Products, etc.; (0) Twilight Periods: Le- gends, Myths. 2. (a) Discovery of the Isl- ands by Captain Cook—Cession to England; (0) The Abolishment of the Ancient Religion and Arrival of Christian Missionaries. 8. (a) Native Customs and Characteristics; @) Kamehama Dynasty. 4. (a) Education an Philanthropy: a Schools by Amer- icans, Queen Emma’s Hospital Museum; (0) Reading—*‘* Women in Hawaii.” 5. (a) Leper Colony (Father Damien's); (+) Volcanoes of Hawaii; (¢) The Ostrich-farm. 6. (a) Char- acter Sketch—Liliuokalani; (6) Independence of Hawaii. 7. (a) Honolulu—*t The Royal City ”; (6) Character Sketch—President Dole. 8. 4% Annexation with the United States— Its Possibilities; () Reading—-‘' Wild-flow- ers of Hawaii.” Discussion—Effect of Civ- ilization on Hawaiians. Pusrrro Rico.—1. (a) Discovery by Colum- bus; (0) Unique Antiquities left by Abori- ines. 2. (a) Character Sketch—Ponce de n; (®) Customs and Manners of the Isl- anders. 3. (4) Puerto Rico as a Strategic Centre; (6) San Juan and Morro Castle. 4. (a) Possibilities as a Winter Resort—Climate, Scenery, etc.; (0) Flora of Puerto Rico. Tue Parrrrines.—1. ©) Discovery and Possession by Spain; (6) Early Inhabitants —Ajetas, Filipinos. 2. (a) Spain’s Colonial Policy in the Philippines —Jesuite; (db) In- dustries and Resources. 3. (a) Struggle for Freedom; (+) Character Sketch—Aguinaldo. 4. (a) Manila and Dewey’s Victory; (+) The Philippines Possession of the United States. Marearet Hamicron Weicu. A trip between New York and Chicago on the New York Central’s “‘Lake Shore Limited.”

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—_ — — —_— —_ = — a Contident To-morrow CHAPTER XVI. T was about the middle of April when Esther Dircks went to Europe, and she did not return to America until after the middle of October. There were days during those six months when Sartain was ready to declare that he had never known time to go soslow- ly. He missed Esther intensely, and she was rarely absent from his thoughts. But he was very busy also, and his mind was so incessantly occupied with Manhattan that it was not often he had leisure to repine or to commiserate his own loneliness He kept a sharp watch for the news of the arrival out of the boat which bore her away; and he made a careful calculation as to the day when her first letter from Eng- land could reach her father. When he guessed that the old man had received this, he called to get Dircks’s opinion on some point in the management of Manhattan, and before the interview was over he had extracted from her father most of the con- tents of the hasty note she had written on the mornin they landed. He was glad to learn that the voyage hac been swift and smooth, and that she thought the sea-air had done ber good already, since her appetite was rapid- ly returning. Having given Sartain this much information, Dircks went on to talk about his daughter, much to the surprise of the young man, who had hitherto found her father slow of speech, not to say taciturn. It was as though in her absence there was one subject about which he must speak, at whatever cost to his habitual restraint. He told the man who loved her how good she was to her father, how tolerant of his whims and extravagances, how firm when his vagaries needed to be checked, how loving always. It delighted Sartain to hear her praised, and he drank in every word greedily, agreeing with every state- ment her father made. Thus was established the habit, on Dircks’s part, of reading his daugiter’s letters to Sar- tain as soon as they were received; and she wrote twice a week regularly. Nor was it from Dircks alone that the young man got news of the woman he loved, for she Was méhtioned fre- quently in the letters that Vivian wrote. As it happened, a novel of Vivian's was published the day after the au- thor had gone away to Europe. For the number of Manhattan which appeared on the morning that the Vivians landed in England Sartain wrote a signed review of his story, in which he expressed his high admiration of Vivian asa novelist. By return mail—that is to say, in less than three weeks— there came a letter from Vivian, written in his careful, copperplate hand, and with every sentence as neatly turned as though it were intend- ed for publication, thanking the young editor for his criticism and ackhowledging its justice both in the praise and the blame; the former might be overstrained, the latter was not, since the author was well aware that it was the weak spot of the plot the critic had put his fin- ger on. In that first letter Vivian went on to narrate their do- ings in London, their having tea on the terrace of the Houses of Parliament, their going to supper on the stage of a famous theatre after the first night of a new play, their dinners here and there; and, incidentally, Esther's name was written more than once, and at the end Vivian bid Sartain tell her father that she was being benefited by the trip, and that she was gaining strength daily in con- sequence of the change of scene. Here Sartain thought he saw the opportunity, and he answered Vivian's letter at once, asking adv about Manhattan, giving the latest bits of literary gossip, and concluding by begging Vivian to assure Miss Esther that her father was well, and that he was keeping an eye on him. Thus, all through the summer, Sartain managed to maintain communication with Esther, through Vivian on one side and through Dircks on the other. In the mean time he ‘was keen to see what impression Duat and Ashes was making on the public, as it appeared week by week in the paper. He had not confessed his authorship to any one except Truax; and as the story was signed with the name of “8S. Prancis,” Frank Sartain was not giving himself away whén hejgsked Shields and Quinn and the other conotribators how liked it. Not suspecting his personal i in the question, they one and all confessed that they not ing it—they nev- er did read serials. Ny } * [don’t want to take any story on the instalment plan,” explained Jerry Quinn. “TI like a joint of roast beef bet- ter than I do a string of sa r In fact, the author could not find anybody who was reading his serial, either in the office or out. He exam- ined all the exchanges eagerly to see whether any of the other papers, the dailies or the weeklies in other cities, had not a good word to say for this story by “8S. Francis”; but he found nothing. It seemed to him at last as though Dust and Ashes was being paid out into a vacuum, week by week. He decided finally that he would willingly have seen it abused by every critic in the country rather than not have heard from it at all. When they took possession of the paper, Truax had sent out a carefully devised announcement of the new Begun in Haxrer’s Bazar No. 27, Vol. XXXIL By policy of Manhattan, and of the change of editor; and this paragraph was copied, without comment, all over the country, from the Gossip, the literary weekly of New York, to the Golden Fleece, the literary weekly of San Francisco. * It’s almost worth while to have a new editor now and then,” said Truax; ‘‘ you get such a lot of free advertis- ing out of it, if you know how to go about it.” “You'll get something else, too,” Jerry Quinn added; ** you'll get all the shop-worn manuscripts in the country, that’s what you'll get. Every fellow who has his story rejected everywhere will take it down, roll it up again, and send it to you within twenty-four hours after he reads that paragraph.” ‘*That accounts for the number of impossible stories I’ve been receiving the past fortnight,” said the new ed- itor. ‘‘I didn’t get a single thing fit to print out of the first hundred I dug through.” ‘* But you will, though,” declared Shields. ‘‘I remem- ber that the first poem of mine the Arctic accepted had been rejected by the Dial for the Sunday paper, and re- jected even by the Gossip. It’s true, I told the Gossip I expected to be paid for it, and then it came back to me by return mail.” “ Did the Gossip ask you to contribute to its sympo- sium, Clarry?” asked Jerry Quinn; ‘‘the one they had last winter—the one about the nature of the first message we should try to send to Mars?” **They did that,” answered the Irishman; ‘‘and the waxed hot in the collar when I asked them how much they expected to pay for my opinion. They said they thought I would be glad to take part in a discussion of great public interest. I told them that I would take part, with pleasure, for ten dollars a thousand words. And now the Gossip is always criticising my verses, and saying that I lack the divine afflatus.” ‘*This dunning men of letters for gratuitous copy seems to me very like blackmail,” Sartain asserted. ‘‘ Manhat- tan is going on the principle that the laborer is worthy of his hire.” “That's so,” said Shields; ‘‘ what's good enough to print is good enough to pay for; that’s what I say.” “*I don’t know as I'd say it,” Jerry returned, ‘‘and I don’t know as I would. They are paying you with the ad.—remember that. There's lots of us always read to advertise ourselves, and mad enough if we're le tb out.” This conversation took place one afternoon towards the end of May in the office of Manhattan, which was on the third floor of a shabby old house in Union Square, a dwelling once, and now let out to tenants of all sorts. Of the two front rooms which the paper rented, Truax kept the larger for the publishing department, and on the par- titioned shelves against the walls were stored the back numbers. The smaller, which had originally been a hall bed-room, was reserved for Sartain as the editorial sanc- tum. It contained a desk in fairly good repair, a cane- bottom chair for the editor himself, and a wooden settle, on which the visiting contributor could sit quite com- fortably. It was Trunx who declared that it would never do to make it easy for callers, or they would stay too long. * By-the-way, Shields,” Sartain continued, witha little hesitation, ‘‘ there’s no use in your trying to tuck the names of your hatter and your tailor into the pa hs you send in. I'm on the lookout now, and I shall kill all your puffs.” ** Ah, come now,” answered Shields, pleadingly, ‘‘ why not leave me in one now and then? You see, it’s this way: if I say a good word for my tailor in the papers, or for my hatter, or for the man who makes my shoes, then he’s never in so great a hurry to bother me with his bill.” “If any man wants dn ad. in Manhattan, he must ~ up to the captain's office and pay for it,” said ruax, ** And is it an ad. that you'll call a few pleasant words now and then to confer happiness on a worthy tradesman, and to make him feel a Fittle less distrustful?” Shields —— “And you don't pretend now to make your Manhattan any more high-toned, as you call it, than the —I mean the original Spectator of Queen Anne's time?” Sartain admitted that he could hardly hope to maintain a higher standard than Steele and Addison. “Well, then,” returned Shields, triumphantly, ‘‘ they did it. They puffed their friends—and I don’t mean the friends they had a dish of tea with ora glass of wine; I mean the tradesmen they did business with—their nd- vertisers, in short. In the Spectator,and in the Tatler too, Steele was forever saying a good word for the wine merchant—what's that his name was?—the wine mer- chant who had an advertisement on the last page.” **Did you see the way the Uj Ten jumped on you this week, Sartain?” asked Quinn. ‘‘They call you the Exile from Kansas, and the Topeka Fugitive, and lots of other things. I guess they want you to notice them.” “And I'm not going to do it,” the editor asserted. “Why should I sink Manhattan to the level of the Up- r Ten? I hate that sort of thing, anyway. You a what Emerson Adams says. fie says American rnalism is like Chinese warfare—there’s so much beat- ng of the tomtoms, and wearing of masks to frighten the enemy, and throwing of stink-pots.” “I wish one of the big dailies would jump on us every BRANDER MATTHEWS day—the Gazette, or the Dial,” said Truax; * that would be an ad. if you like.” “The big dailies here won't take any notice of us,” Sartain admitted; ‘ but the out-of-town papers are very friendly.” ** If that’s so, why not get up something to please the people in the other cities?” suggested Jerry Quinn. “It would be a big joke to have a Chicago letter in your New York weekly. I could write it for you without leaving my seat.” “And I can write you a Boston letter, if you'd like it,” Shields asserted, “and one that they’d think was written by a member of their own Brahmin caste — barring a ‘ will’ for a ‘shall’ here and there, that maybe you could put straight for me.” Thus was suggested a series of articles which did much to make Manhattan betier known. In the first issue in June a notice at the head of the editorial column an- nounced that in the next number would appear the first of a group of “ Letters from Country Towns. No. 1.— pag al This impertinently effective announcement was due to Emerson Adams, whom Sartain had told about the new series. Quinn wrote the letter from Chi cago in a vein of ironic humor, which served as an ex- ample to the writers of the other letters. Adams gave Shields the latest bits of unprinted personal gossip from Boston, and as a result half the newspapers made edito- rial reference to ‘‘ Letters from Country Towns. No IIl.—Boston.” As it happened, Truax had been on a Philadelphia paper for a few months, and he supplied the local color needed for No. IIL, one allusion in which —a mention of the sign near the Red Bridge, inviting the passer-by to partake of catfish and waffles—for some strange reason, stirred the wrath of the Pennsylvania journalists, who promptly abused Manhattan. These letters of “‘ Asmodeus” (for such was the signa- ture Sartain attached to them all) really belped the circu- lation of the paper,in spite of the fact that July is gen- erally the worst month in the year for the sale of a weekly. Sartein was a little chagrined that these girding-trifles should be more potent in arresting public attention than his own serial story, or than the serious discussions of pub- lic affairs he contributed every week editorially. The sketches and letters were to Sartain of value only as they might attract readers to the paper. The object for which the paper itself existed was the arousing of pub- lic opinion against the inequalities and the injustices ob- vious enough in the structure of modern society. He was not a shrill and blatant assailant of the rich, but he was unceasing in pointing out the many ways in which the present organization of commerce bore dows heavily on the poor; he was unsparing in his attacks on those cor- — which sought to set themselves above the law; ve was insistent in holding men in public life up to a high standard. In applying these principles of militant jour- nalism, as he understood it, he had the support of Mr. Dircks, who was always particularly pleased when some well-known man of large means was held up to obloquy for a breach of the law. If the editor had allowed him- self to be influenced unduly by the owner, Manhattan would have become more and more violent week by week. “It ain’t hot enough !” the old man would say. give it to them hot and heavy.” And then Sartain would try in vain to get Dircks to for- mulate his opinions. Apparently the old man had never thought out what be felt, and certainly he could not make his views clear to any one else. Dircks’s animosity was always at white heat for the prosperous evil-doer, but it cooled at once when justice overtook the rascal. Whether or not the man deserved the punishment about to be be- stowed on him had nothing to do with Dircks’s feelings towards him. ** What's the use of pounding him any more?” the old man asked Sartain one day, in September after the pub- lication in Manhattan of an article calling for the full ow ped of the law upon a recently arrested forger who ad abused a trust reposed in him. ‘The man’s down, ain’t he? Well, then, why not let up on him? Don't hound him any more.” Sartain told Adams about this when they dined that ery, together under a tent in the back-yard of the Fried Cat, and the painter said: ‘‘ That makes out my the- ory of Dircks—that he's always on the side of the under dog, even when the under dog deserves his licking. It’s very curious, I confess, and I don't understand it, but that’s it, I'm sure. If Benedict Arnold were in jail, the old man wouldn't want him harshly dealt with.” “How does that fit in with his hatred of ill-gotten wealth?” asked Sartain. “‘Tt’s got to fit in the best way it can,” Adams answer- ed. ‘And maybe, after all, he isn’t as violent as you think he is. It isn’t so very radical, is it, to want to set the classes against the masses?” With Adams, who had been obliged to forego his trip to Europe, on account of a commission to paint the decora- tive panels for the ball-room of a new cottage at Lenox, in which the first dance was to be given in September, Sar- tain took his share of the summer amusements of the city ; they ran down to Coney Island to dine, and they lounged ac an evening now and then at one or another of the roof-gardens. The summer wore away slowly, and yet when it was over, and when October came, it suddenly seemed to Sartain as though the six months had fled past with unprecedented swiftness. [To Be conrinvED.)} “You

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MACBETH “pearl top” and “pearl glass” lamp- chimneys are carefully made of clear tough glass; they fit, and get the utmost light from the lamp, and they last until some accident breaks them. “Pearl top” and “pearl glass” are trade-marks. Look out for them and you needn’t be an expert. Our “Index” describes a// lamps and their proper chimneys. With it you can always order the right size and shape of chimney for any lamp. We mail it FREE to any one who writes for it. Macsetn, Pittsburgh, Pa. a Perfection of Quality with Absolute Purity S. RAE & CO., Leghorn, Italy. Established 1836. Fresh and fruity. Made from the pick of the choicest beef — deliciously seasoned. Put up in convenient packages, enough for two big pies. tal f zx,“ prep nected Ser bee How to Make Good Libby, MoNeill & Libby, Chicago SAVE YOUR SKIN How to Preserve, Purify and Beau- tify the Skin and Complexion. The clearest, softest, whitest skin, free from pimple, spot, or blemish, is produced by Curicurna Soap. It prevents pimples, blackheads, ‘blotches, red, rough, and oily skin, and other facial blemishes, rashes, and eruptions, because it prevents inflammation and clogging of the Pores, the cause of most complexional disfigurati JENN ~ | | HARPER’S BAZAR HOW TO DRESS YOUR HAIR. PRACTICAL SUGGESTIONS FOR THE COILS OF THE COMING SEASON. for the coming season. To arrange the hair after this style, divide the front part into three pieces, comb- ing the hair forward, and then turn it back to the crown of the head. The hair should be slightly waved. * . . OR the new hats, and also for every-day occasions, have the hair coiled high on the head in a figure eight, with the top raised to be like a loop. The front in Pompadour, and at the back of the coil or twist put in a Pompadour comb to keep the twist above the crown of the bead. This style of hair- dressing is suitable for women of from twenty to forty-five years of age. * * LL the latest hair-dressing shows that A the Pompadour is to be the fashion fF: LOEBLY women generally wear their hair high on the head, but below the crown. The front is parted and arranged in soft waves that are drawn down over the forehead, giving a more softened look. e a7 Fok young girls there are two styles of hair - dressing. - One way is to part the hair in front, to roll.it at the sides,!and to arrange it low in the neck at the back. This is particularly pretty for curly hair, as the knot at the back of the neck is very be- coming. . . s * OUNG girls also wear their hair in Pom- our with a bow’ on the top of the head, the ends braided and turned up, and tied at the nape of the neck with another bow of ribbon. Sometimes the very end of the braid is put up back and fastened under the bow on the top of the head. All these methods of dressing the hair are the best styles for the coming season. A VILLAGE ARTS AND CRAFTS SOCIETY HOW VILLAGE INDUSTRIES ARE DEVELOPED BY MEANS OF THE REVIVAL OF HANDCRAFTS, AND WHAT CAN BE A VILLAGE START crafts, which has developed widely throughout the country, has proved valuable to many small communi- ties. It is adding materially to the list of bread-winning occupations possible in towns and villages. The movement takes different forms in different localities. Ina New Eng- land town wood-carving has reached a degree of excellence that gives it a demand from all over the country. At East Aurora, New York, there is a publishing-house that puts HE present strong movement toward the revival and perfection of hand- | out, from time to time, editions of books ar- | and the like. tistic and original in paper, leather, type, decorations, and everything else that goes to make up the binding of a volume. As in all this handcraft movement, the Ruskin idea of creating village industry is paramount. In the bookbindery of this western New York vil- lage as little machinery as possible is made use of ; workers are slowly trained, as some special aptitude for the work is shown, to make the type, the paper, the binding, the fabric, and contribute the decorations. The work of supplying the initial letters alone for the paragraphs and chapters gives con- stant employment to the women of a score or more of the farmers’ families residing in the district. * e * EEDLE-WOREK is of course one of the most feasible forms of work for an arts and crafts society ; and an admirable example of what has been done in this particular branch was given this month in Deerfield, Massachusetts, where the village society had an exhibit. It was discovered that the rav- ages of time would soon eliminate all traces of the fading Colonial needle-work housed in the Deerfield Museum. The possibilities of it were soon developed. It was found in the beginning that to reproduce the actual stitches of the old needle-work did not give an accurate idea of its appearance, and it was decided to go deeper into the reproduction. Old receipts for the indigo blues, the fustic greens, and madder pinks were looked up in the same museum, and a woman in Deerfield was found to whom had been transmitted the skill of the processes. Then a manufac- turer was secured to make for the exclusive use of these needle-workers a weave of linen in exact imitation of the old flax homespun. By this time it was discovered that the be- ginning of a possible important village in- dustry was in the hands of the founders, Miss M. C. Whiting and Miss M. Miller. So the Deerfield Society of Blue and White Needle-work came into existence, and has been carried on successfully through four or five years. * . * T= museum pieces were long ago copied, and many more executed to fill orders of customers. The work now takes the form chiefly of articles for table service —centre- pieces, tray-cloths, sideboard-covers, doilies, A superb set, comprising a | very long table-cloth and a set of yard- uare napkins, is now being executed for Mrs. Hearst of Washington. The workers employed by the society are Deerfield wo- men aud girls. The work is paid for by the | hour, and an element of it is its socialistic or | co-operative side. This means that all the workers are paid equally ; the designer of the patterns gets no more than the one who ex- ecutes them, the idea being to foster devoted effort, and make the women who do the hem- stitching as eager to become artists in their line as any of the seemingly more capable workers employed. The seal of the society —a small spinning-wheel with the letter in old script in the centre—is a hall-mark set on each piece only after it has passed the rigid scrutiny of the society. This is found on even the smallest doily that leaves their hands. For the most part, the work is done in the four simply graded shades of blue, which was the color generally employed by the Colonial women. Few of the de- sigus are repeated exactly, though the are sometimes adapted by regrouping. It has been most interesting to the members of DONE TO SOCIETY the society to trace the suggestions by which evidently these Puritan women made the patterns for their needle-work. With a palm-leaf pattern found in an India shawl will be worked in bits from old French chintzes and wall-papers; patterns of French porcelain get mixed with Chinese characters, found doubtless among the treasures of some old sea-captain’s chest. All of the designs show great variety, sometimes this variety being in a single piece, to the detriment, of course, of its balance and harmony. It is this possibility of originality, together with the perfection of the reproductions, that gives to the work of the Deerfield crafts- women great value, and suggests how val- uable similar work in any village or town might become. . e * MATEUR photography is another dis- tinetly —— side of arts and crafts societies. The Misses Allen are the Deer field artists in this line, and the specimens of their original work carry their own evi dence of ability. Life-long residents of the town, these ladies found, when the camera attracted them, that a rich field for the re- production of Colonial scenes and subjects lay at their hands. A young girl dressed in a genuine gown of the last century, seated at a veritable spinet brought from London more than a hundred years ago, and posed by them in the actual room in which tligif great-great - grandmother sat, is practically the girl who was eighteen in 1750, so per- fectly does the artist infuse into their group- ing, arrangement of light, etc., the impres- sion that it is aimed to secure. The Misses Allen are particularly happy too in pictures of children and posing of them to accentuate effects in still-life. In addition to landscapes, interiors, and Colonial studies, their skil] in posing inanimate objects is to be noted. A col- lection of old-time china, a group of ancient cooking utensils, or even a pile of books be- comes, when their camera is through with it, a picture as well as a representation. Ex- cept for the help which the sensitive plate and the sun afford, the work is done entire- ly by the artists, and the value of such work in any town is evident at once. Local color and familiar scenes are in demand from resi- dents and visitors alike. * * * he metals some rarely beautiful articles are shown. Most of these are by Madeline Yale Wynne, probably the only woman in Ameriga who has mastered the art of silver- | smithing. Mrs. Wynne works besides in brass and copper—the box illustrated on our double page, which is a part of her ex- hibit, being of the latter metal. It is a casket twenty-two inches long, sixteen inch- es wide, and fourteen inches high. Another group of Mrs. Wynne’s work shows belt buckles, bowls, salvers, spoons, and various ornaments wrought in silver, copper, and brass. In these, exquisite color effects are produced by an enamelling process. She is both artist and artisan, executing every pro- cess of her work. The fire set in wrought iron is the product of a Deerfield farmer, Herbert Andrews, who found in one of his Polish farm laborers the skill inherited from generations of smiths which complemented his own undeveloped ability in the same line. Together won | have produced most credit- able and marketable work. Not the least interesting part of the dis- play, and one appropriately included as an exhibit, is the building in which the ex- hibition has been shown. This is the Village Room, built in loving memory of Martha Goulding Pratt, who was, as a tablet in- scribes, ‘‘ the village postmistress of Deer- field from 1870 until her death in 1894” The little building which holds the Room, and practically nothing else except a coat- room, kitchen, pantry, etc., is placed near the spot where Miss Pratt lived and served her friends, After the plan of the building had been made, its construction was intrusted to a village carpenter, Horatio Hoyt, who is, in his way, entirely worthy to stand with the rest of the artists. mental Without doubt the food used in infancy has a large influence on after years in a child’s life. If the food given, is of the proper character,’ the infant builds up a strong, rugged constitution that re- sists disease and” produces healthy, happy childhood. Mellin’s Food I send you a picture of our youngest son, Nolan Robert Bon- ner, whom I am raising on Mellin’s Food. He has always been very small, but since I have been feed- ing him Mellin’s Food he is gaining rapidly. I cannot speak too highly of Mellin’s Food for I raised my OLDEST boy, now 3 years old, on it and he is a perfect type of health and as solid as can be. I really think it lays a solid foundation which a child retains always. Mrs. N. R. Bonner, Altamont, Ill. Send us a postal fer a free sample of Mellin’s Food. Mellin’s Food Company The Purest Soap Afloat Wool Soap The soap forthe every-day soap tray Swift and Company, Makers, Chicago Genuine Farina Cologne is imitated so closely in bottles and la bels that even dealers are sometimes deceived. The genuine bears the words, ** gegenuber dem Julichs Piatz,”’ the address of the great Farina distillery ; “genentiber dem Julichs-Platz” (opposite the Julichs Place). é Schieffelin & Co., New York, Sole Agents } ai GUARDED CoiL THE CLINTON SAFETY PIN Not Cheapest, but BEST Fastens on either side; is almost automatic. Super nickel - plated; doesn’t turn brassy. Made in 9 sizes, from % inch to 44 inches. Finished im nickel, black enamel, gold, and silver. A Perfect Guard Prevents Clothing Catching in Coil. Send six cents in stamps for 12 Clinton Safety Pins (assorted sizes) and a card of our new Sovran Dress Pins. They will demonstrate the inferiority of their imitations. OAKVILLE CO., Waterbury, Conn. MAISON LAFERRIERE 28, RUE TAITBOUT, PARIS Reminds its numerous American Lady-Customers who honour this firm with their orders that they will = there the most splendid asso’ ent of the very latest no- velties created in " ROBES ", MANTEAUX ad COSTUMES Patented Furnisher to H. AR. H. the Princess of Wales. Does NoT SUPER BEND NICKEL PLATE

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WOMEN AS HIGH-MOUNTAIN CLIMBERS EN years or so ago, when we were stopping at a little place in Switzerland, near Chamonix.we met a woman who had climbed Mont Blanc. She was Scotch, and, | remember, I looked upon her as an entirely separate order of being from other wo men. As a rule, among the summer visitors in that and other little Swiss villages, there were only two species of the feminine sex. There was the kind that sat in front of the hotel and did embroidery, and another kind made up of persons very much like those one reads about in Dodo These were women of enterprise, who occasionally did some such heroic deed as to go off and have a picnic on a glacier, TTrousered individuals invariably accompanied them, who, in their turn, bore no relation whatever to the stalwart creatures who suggested athletic gods known as mountaineers. These seemed to dwell in a cvold, high zone apart. They were men who did much and talked little. Even their costumes were impressive. At that time a man in knickerbockers was rare. Hotel-keepers bowed down before these mortals, and bells tolled after their exploits Altogether the mountain-climbing man BY KATHARINE DE FOREST Matterhorn. He tells of getting to the top of a peak and sitting sketching for two hours while his guide Croz was cutting a pass. If he stirred, he looked down a precipice a quarter of a mile deep, studded with glittering icicles. Here is where the sporting mind asserts itself. Women have not, in general, the faculty of detaching themselves mentally at will from the scene around them. It is per- haps part of woman's strength, as well as her weakness. But it is a reason why the sex, as a whole, under the most favorable circumstances, would never distinguish itself either as great navigators or great mountaineers. The average woman, when she crosses the ocean, feels called upon to hold up the ship all the way over. She would never desert the mountain mentally for five minutes if she had started up it. Her endurance, therefore, would not be equal to the task. OUNTAIN-CLIMBING, for those women who are born to it, seems to be a sport beside whose fascina- tions even golf pales. A few American women in Paris are becoming quite distinguished as mountaineers, and ALPINE COSTUME, SHOWING ONE OF THE METHODS OF CARRYING JACKETS USE OF ALPENSTOCK AND ROPE NOT AN EASY CLIMB called riicksacs on their backs. The provisions consist of self-cooking soups, cooked fresh meats, wine, bread, and jam. One must be a mountaineer, or a friend of a mountaineer, to know the peculiar staying qualities of jam. It seems that the sugar it contains is an immense preservative of force, and that one can often eat it when her momentarily exhausted system refuses either bread or meat. Everything ready, the entire party makes its way in the afternoon to the auberge of the mountaineer, a hut part “= up the pass, on the edge of the moraine of a gla- cier. This is sumptuously furnished with beds made of inclined planks covered with straw, with a foot- board at the bottom, and blankets suspended across a rope hung at some distance from the floor as a protection against the rats of the winter. In the but there are also cooking utensils, a table, a stove, stools, and what is known in mountaineering parlance as “the universal rag.” This seems to be a sort of “‘ bonne a tout faire,” for it wipes the dishes and mops up the floor. The hut must be left exactly as it was found, in perfect order. That is the rigorous etiquette of Alpine AT THE SUMMIT—FIFPTEEN MINUTES OF REST AND VIEW. DESCENDING AN AR&TE. THE ASCENT AND DESCENT.—Psoroerarns sy C. E. Boprseton or THe British ALPINE CLUB made a great and lasting impression upon my inexperi enced mind, and he is still a being that I find awe-in spiring When, as of late years, the mountain-climbing woman is added to him, and when | find mine own fa miliar friends after their summer trip talking easily of scaling peaks starred in Baedeker of twelve and more thousand feet, I feel that this sport has made such prog reas that it demands looking into. Are the feminine sex likely to be called, as a whole, to be Tartarinesses on the Alps? HAT comparatively few women even now go in for high-mountain climbing is the result of my researches, though two or three have been very renowned in it. Among these was Mrs. Mommery, wife of the celebrated writer on Alpine ascensions, who was killed in the Cau casus. Mrs. Main, another mountaineer of great renown, is this summer doing original climbing in Norway, and sending back articles on it to the Alpine Journal. But, on the whole, few women have the necessary qualifica tions for this particular sport. These consist not only in endurance, but in what is called the ‘sporting mind.” High-mountain climbing takes less strength than would be supposed. But the difficulties in it are not only physi- cal, but mental. There is a constant interchange of physi cal and mental excitement, and that is the reason, | sup pose, why so many professional men go in for it. to appreciate this, one has only to look over the membership of the British Alpine Club. It is hard for the uninitiated to understand at first wh a long and difficult climb is not intensely fatiguing physi- cally. There is of course the excitement, the exhilaration of the pure air, the peculiar tonic to the mind that people who know agree in saying comes from the simple move ment of mounting—the état d'dme excelsior, as one might say. The actual physical reason appears to be, however, that there are so many rests while the guides are explor ing ahead or cutting passes through the ice. I have just been reading Scrambles among the Alps, by Whymper, the great mountaineer, who made the first ascent of the two have just ascended successfully the Morteratzch, in the Engadine, a mountain 12,400 feet high. The famous Jungfrau has only a thousand feet or so more. A wo- man's outfit for such an enterprise is interesting. Actual- ly rigged and equipped for a start, outside of her boots, she wears nothing but woollens. The lower part of her, since she may be hours and hours in snow, must be much more warmly covered than the upper. She wears thick under-drawers, with knickerbockers of cloth or alpaca over these,and two pairs of heavy stockings. The whole outside of the first pale is soaped, to keep them from wrinkling and rubbing against the other. The boots of the feminine mountaineer I consider most interesting natural curiosi- ties. Their size and form are worthy attention, to begin with; the bristling nails with which both soles and edges are provided give them a sort of diabolical air, while the large flaps for keeping out the snow from their tops sug- gest the flapping ears of some strange and obsolete ani- mal. Over these go gaiters, held down by little chains passing under the feet, made of iron, so that they cannot be cut by ice. One must be very careful not to embarrass the upper part of the body with too heavy or too cumbersome gar- ments. For actual climbing, nothing more than a light sweater or Shetland jacket is needed hes outside garment. You have generally gone only a very little way before you take off your coat and strap it round your waist, as you will see in the picture. You wear a felt hat and dark glasses. The guides affect these last even more than trav- ellers, and say that they have known novices to be blind- ed for days after making an ascension without such pre- cautions. The experienced mountaineer carries lanoline in her pocket, and makes a plentiful application of it to her face the minute she gets on snow, to prevent the yel- an blisters, that are not only disfiguring, but very pain- ul. HE really exciting climb is that in which one stays out apes taking her provisions with her. These the guides and the other men of the party carry in what are sojourns. The guides do the cooking and the clearing up, and they have even been known to act as ladies’ maids, and dry women’s stockings, and generally look after their comfort. They are a fine, frank, fearless race, with special gifts of their own, for guiding iv mountain eering is a talent, and it is handed down from father to son. Guides run in families. As an example, most peo- ple who have been to Switzerland have heard of the cele- brated Almer family of guides of Grindelwald. Christian, the son of Ulrich, was as fine a guide as his father, and now young Peter Almer bids fair to equal them both. Y nine in the evening the but is quiet. Every one is sleeping soundly in the pure mountain air. At one the guides have made the breakfast, and proceed to rouse the party, that they may start upon their great under- taking before the sun has softened the snow. A partic- ular fascination about the Swiss Alps, 1 am told by my moun taineering friends, is the long dawns. In the ascent of the Morteratzch day began to break at three, and it was quite half past four before the tops of the mountains were red. The photographs give an idea of some of the details of a high-mountain promenade of this sort. One catches the great sweep of the glacier, the apparent inaccessibility of a bit of rocky pass. ‘‘ Descending an Aréie” is of special interest as showing how people are roped together. alking on such a snow path is one of the tests of the experienced climber. The science of it lies in a certain pressure of the foot, and the two ladies in the picture told me that they would fall in the soft snow thirty times to the guides once, so far had these last perfected this art. A mountain ascension takes generally about six hours, One reaches the mountain-top between eight and nine of the morning, to look down upon a world that seems dead, with those upon its heights its sole inhabitants. You get there wonderful lights besides the rose of the Alpine glow. My mountaineers have seen the earth a pale pure violet as far as the eye could see, with the valleys below drowned in purple gloom.

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Serremeer 16, 1899 $500 oO" R new Fall and Winter costumes and cloaks are exclu- sive in style and dis- tinetly different from the ready-made gar- hen wearing one of our styles you do not run the risk of meeting other la dies wearing gar- ments which look

exactly like yours. ab | There are hu dreds of firms sell- ing ready - made suits and cloaks such as you see ev- * makin able goc at moderate prices. You may select from our catalogue i any style that you desire and we will make it engetey to order © you from any of our materials. Any sug gestions that you wis! to make can be care- fully carried out. Our new Fall and Winter Catalogue il- ustrates an exclusive line of ladies’ cos- tumes and cloaks, selected from the newest Paris models, and the fabrics from which we make our garments comprise only the very latest novelties. Charming Costumes and Tailor-Made Suits, faultless in cut and fin nie, up. Mandsome Jackets, lined throug ~~ b= yd different a the ready- — — anty Os New Skirts, out woneedll I “i latest French * Golf Capes, Newmarketa, Bley ele Sults, ete. We pay express charges everywhere. Write to-day for Cata- logue and samples of the materials from which we make these garments; we will send them to you free by return mail. Be sure to Say whether you wish the samples for Cloaks or for Suits, and we will then be able tw send you a full line of exactly what you desire THE NATIONAL CLOAK COMPANY, 119 and 121 West 23d St., New York. ‘THE OMO is the only perfect Dress Shield , Spec ied by ladies’ where. No Rubber. No Chemicals. leading tailors every- Is the only shield that is absolutely odorless and impervious. Every Pair Warranted. dealer does p them, send 25 cents for sample pair. Illustrated book let free. OMO MFG.CO., Middletown, Conn, Altman & @o. NEW YORK. Yi your not hee ANTIQUE and MODERN ORIENTAL RUGS and CARPETS. Serape, Khorassan, Sarak, Kurdis- tan, Kirmansha, Iran, Herat Sere- bend, and Bokhara Carpets. Yhiordes, Coula, Tebriz, Lidi , Cabistan, Anatolian, Shirvan, and Daghestan Rugs. Modern Oriental Carpets in special colors and designs, of East India, Persian, and Turkish make. NERVOUSNESS.

Horsford’s Acid Phosphate Strengthens and quiets the Genuine bears name Horsford’s on wrapper.

Consult CHEIRO By Reading His Books LANGUAGE or THE MAND—Tenth Edition, en- arg $2.50—Fifty-fve Full-page ilustrations and over Two Hundre d Enyravings of Lines, Mounts, and Marks. ings of the Seven 5 ypes by THEO. DORE CHEIRO’S POEMS—Cloth, gilt top, 50 cents Abounds in passion, emotion, regretfulness, and al] expressed in language that carries one along Interestingly CHEIRG’S GUIDE TO THE HAND—Cloth, $1.00 The best work on Palmistry at a low price. Fully illustrated. THE HAND OF FATE—Cloth, $1.00—A Novel | Chelre—A strange psychological story, chiefly dealing wit heredity laws and parental influences. Sold Everywhere, or Matled on Receipt of Price Manuscripts Promptly Examined. P. TENNYSON NEELY, Publisher ‘TaBee models of the long redingote, now so fashionable, will be illustrated in the Bazar of September 23. One is adaptable for a storm cloak, another is somewhat dress- ier but still severely tailor made, and the third is a good example of the handsome long coat that is to be used for afternoon, carriage wear, receptions, and even as even- ing wrap. The same number will contain illustrations of a simple but very effective cloth gown that may easily be modified for a mourning gown, of a light-weight cloth gown trimmed with lace and suitable for a reception gown, and of a light-colored cloth costume in coat effect designed for calling.

———$

TOILET Oo

Correspondents of the Bazas are requested to send in their questions at least tree weeks before the answers are needed. The Bazam has a very large co Puttapercruts.—Any question concerning the toilet | will be answered in this department of the Bazas. E D. A.—Use only a pure hygienic soap upon the face. Make a lather of thie and hot water, and, asing | a camel’shair complexion brush, scrub the face each night before retiring. Wash off the lather, and dry with a soft towel. Rub a skin food well ito the pores. In the morning wash in warm water, then in cold, aud rub briskly until the skin glows Care of the diet and regular exercise are essentials } in improving the complexion, as is thorough cleanli- ness of the entire body. Anxtous.—To rid your hair of the excess of oi] of | open air to prevent any tend which you complain, wash it frequently in warm water to which a few drops of ammonia have been added. If your bair shows no tendency to turn gray, you may dissolve a quarter of a spoonful of borax into every quart of the shampoo water, Aleohol, diluted, stimulates the growth of the hair, and may be used as the basis of the quinine and glycerine hair tonic you mention. G. H. H.—Part the hair over the crown of the head and tie it with a ribbon, pushing the front hair for- ward loosely before braidmmg it into the back hair. You may have to fasten the bow with a couple of hair- pins to prevent the hair from sliding. This style of hair-dressing only looks well with wavy hair. A Constant Reaper.—To gain the flesh you go ar- dently desire you should keep as regular habits of life as possible. Perhaps you have heard the old saying that he who would be thin must have his eyes open

rrespondence, and regrets that it cannot answer any letters by mail. and his mouth shut most of the time, and that he who would be fat must keep his eyes shut and his mouth open as much as possible—that is, sleep much and eat often. To be stout or thin is largely a matter of constitution, You are still very young, and the chances are that as you grow older you will, after the habit of many American women, acquire flesh. Pend- ing that time eat freely of wholesome, nourishing food, always taking care to eat slowly and masticate | thoroughly. Starchy foods, such as white and Gra- | ham breads, potatoes, and the cereals, are fattening Form a bubit of taking for your breakfast a generous bowlful of properly cooked oatmeal or rice deluged with cream. Be sure to take enough exercise in the y to bili A bri<k sponge-bath night and morning will be of ad- vantage. Regular work, good digestion, and a cun- tented mind will be powerful helps in your flesh- making regime,

Braraior.—Your best plan would be to go to a truat- worthy hair-dresser and ask him to prepare for you a hair tonic that will prevent the hair turning prema- tarely gray. Do not attempt to apply any dye your- self, as you cannot do it properly. If you feel that you must use such a preparation, let a professional touch your few gray hairs with it as occasion requires, But in this day, when gray locks are so common and so much admired, it seems a pity to use any artificial coloring matter. If the grayness comes from a dis- eased condition of the scalp, proper treatment should check the trouble. If it is nataral, do not worry about it. Avoid the use of soda or ammonia in washing the head, as these are powerful agents in whitening the tresses.

ACTS GENTLY ON THE KIDNEYS, LIVER AND Bow_ELs EANSES THE SYSTEM sR eee 5 C Me Cole jeanne eves GL DisPELS BV THE GENVINE-MAN'F DO OY GUIBRNIA FIG SyRVPC wr SV bee wey ¥ Yoo, a PRL SOc ners. HARPER’S BAZAR Cut Tissue-Paper Patterns beginning with the issue of December 31,1898, will be furnished at the uniform price of ,COMPLETE COSTUME, 50 Cents _GIRL’S COSTUME, - 50 “ | WAIST, withsieve, - - - 25 “* as - cw BH * No separate Sleeve Patterns sold. Patterns for adults in one size only— bust, 36; waist, 24; skirt, 42. Girls’ patterns made in standard 13-year-old size only. Money must accompany order. can” "See

Special Garments are furnished at special prices, as mentioned in accompanying list. dn ordering Cut Patterns the use of the following form is suggested. This will avoid error and facilitate the forwarding of the pattern. PATTERNS IN THIS NUMBER ARERR Reece eee eeeeeeeees 1899 Dear Sirs,— Please send me pattern, standard size as ad- vertised, published in HAKPER’S BAZAR, of

| WAIST, No.... SKIRT, Sdn ancdoeeis COSTUME, iss cho diie GIRL’S COSTUME, No..... Gon Whee FOR ses dos icicndecececedsscee cents, Path idss 1050 Ws tk sslageredcdbadssarieere PR cist cig one<anknemdiba Cut Pattern Fashions in this Number : fee. 202, on page 779; No. 1018, on page 778. Address HARPER & BROTHERS, publishers

Madina’ CREAM

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A HIS PUTTING a OAR IN, “Tiss Harnotp Askep Mas. HichroLLer TO GO OVER IN HIS BOAT?” “Yes. He WANTS TO HAVE SELECTING THE TIME. Mias Tomuey, which month would you rather be married in, Jane or September 7" asked young Mr. Frisble I suppose that this is not a proposal, Mr. Frisble,” replied the young mut that you are asking for information, or merely to make con- malleor For information." * Well, then, Mr. Frisbie, the anewer to that question depends entirely on the time of the year when it Is asked.” How sof If | were asked it in April or May, for example, I should reply that I preferred to be married in June, but if I were asked it in July or August, I «! | unhesitatingly declare in favor of September.” Then let's be married in September Well, it seems a little sudden, Mr. Frisbie, but I know no reasun why we should wait.” Thus it was arranged, and then the two went into executive session a ** Pa, is Senator Beveridge a Democrat or a Republican 7" asked Willie. ‘TL don't know, my son. Why?" replied his father on thi I thought from his name he wasn't a Prohibitionist, eald W ———— “ Dinemore is very rich, I am told,” said Cameo to Cawker. Rich ? I should say he was. He's rich enough to evade the payment of bis taxes.” es “ Sir Thomas Lipton 7” said the Man of Schemes *T am,” replied Sir Thomas, “IT have a plan by which you can keep the course clear of excursion- steamers during the international race.” “ Name it, sir, and I will pay you libergily,” anid Sir Tipmas. * Charter ‘em all and send them up to Poughkeepsie,” replied the Mah os eme- The suggestion will not be accepted. ’ PHE PRODIGAL'S Empty i« the wallet 1 dine furtorn ! I live alone, within a four pair back, Aud shiny are my work-day clothes, aleck! PLEA. money's gone! upon one cutiet all Hat light as my pocket, my fond heart reposecs For Phyllis, each week, wears my choice Thorley roses. 1 daily walk from Harlem to the bank Iu Wall Street; and the fellows call me “ crank,” Am! wonder why the dickens I should cease To smoke my former fragrant pipe of peace! . . . . But what do I « finest tobacco While Phyllis of Huyler’s has never a lack, oh! © for the If worst came to the wore, I am afraid I'd stoop to wear a tie all ready-made! So shamelers am I grown, of pride so void, ld—yes, 'd—eport a collar cellnioid ! . . . . At the shrine of eweet Phvilie, who'd blame a man living For spending his substance in riotous giving! A PULL WITH THE CHAPERON.” LATEST DEWEY ITEMS. The next cenene wil! show that since June 1, 1898, six hundred and ninety-three thousand babies have been named George Dewey, after the famous Admiral. There inclade four hundred and thirty-three pairs of twins who were named Georgiana and Dewina respectively The rumor that Admiral Dewey hae employed a staff of fifiy high- livers who resemble him strongly to attend public dinners as his sub- stitates lacks confirmation. The scheme would not be wholly without its advantages. We understand that Dewey attends personally to all his own corre- spondence, and the rumor that his saccess in avoiding foolish public statements is due to bie having engaged one hundred and fifty mariues to hold his tongue for him is uufounded In view of the fact that we have no one in this country whe may be considered the Admiral’s equal at this time, it is suggested that he either ride in the triamphal procession alove in a hansom-cab, or that he and the President ride up Riverside Drive together on a bicycle built for two, the President dving the pedalling while the Admiral acknowledges the plaudits of the populace. An enthusiastic admirer of the Admiral proposes that the Olympia be taken apart and put ap again and anchored permanently in Central Park Lake, and donated to her famous commander as a towu residence. —_——@—— * Dawson is a perfect wreck,” said Wilkins, when asked about the health of his friend. “He tried to break in a young and frieky automo- bile, and the thing threw him.” —_—~>——_ "Phe Major came up the front steps of the club slowly and thoughtfatly, in bie hand a half-burved cigar that had gone out—a sure sign that something was wrong. He dropped into a chair by my side, and ordered orange bitters and the other part of it. “Women,” said the Major, “ are devils.” I sighed sympathetically; and with the certain knowledge that the end had come, I began to array in my mind a host of cheering senti- ments, that I might deliver each at the proper moment. “Some of them are,” I snggested. There was a pause, The Major was absorbed in his downfall. “ You knew her?” he eaid at last. “Oh yes,” I replied. “ Her husband was—” “So he was,” interrupted the Major. “Well, my boy, it’* over with.” “What do you mean?” I in- quired, much as if I did not know. “The more I think of it,” went on the Major, ignoring my ques- tion, “the more I am convinced that I shall not recover from this blow. I can’t anderstand i. If she had been a young, inexperi enced girl—but a widow! And to think she has been playing with me! Yes, sir, that’s the word—playing.” “ Nonsense,” I retorted * See here,” said the Major, “let ne face this thing together, like men.” He rang the bell for more orange bitters—and the other thing. It came. The Major sipped **It is true,” he said, “that #he has rejected me—flat-footed—anil at my time of life this ie vot pleas ant. | ought to settle down. I had set my heart on her, and now iteover with. Still, the situation is net without hope.” “ What ehall we do about it?” I enid at last, bowing to the link he had made between ua. “Well.” ssid the Major, con- templatively, “there is another widow.” Tom Masson a They were discussing the rumered marriage of Paderewski, and Mr. Bickers scouted the idea. “ Padereweki can't affurd to marry.” be declares. “Why not? I'd like to know. Surely he is wble to sapport a wife,” Mre. Bickers pointed out “At present, yes, I grant you, but such a condition of things would not last long.” “Why not?” “A baldheaded pianist has no future.” Then Mr. Bickers left the room hastily before Mrs. Bickers conld bring down upon his shining pate the book she had been reading, awd which she held in her hand while this colloqay took place. —_——=>—_—_ The preacher warmed to his work. He painted the sufferings of the lost In the most vivid colors; but when he unaplored us to “listen to the damned rattling their chains on the floor of the bot- tomiless pit,” imagination failed. a Mea. MoGorey. “Oj do be r'adin’ that kerosene will remove rust from «teves.” MoGorey. “ Yie; an’ ut will re- move stoves too, ol undherstand.” A TRIUMPHAL KETURN. Oh, Dewey is sailing the sea, Coming back to the home of the free; The breeze aud the gale, The sword-tish and whale, Are singing, “ All hail To Dewee !" The waves are all dancing with joy; The mermaids, so sweet and so coy, Rise ap from the brine And all in a line Cry, ** Won't you be mine, Dewey boy?” The shark wears his prettiest smile, A-emacking his lips all the while, And flapping his fin, He says with a grin, “I'd not take him in For a pile.” The sea-cow wakes up from her doze, And rubbing the end of her nose, To her sea-calves doth shout, Through the end of her snout, “Oh, children, look out— There he goes!” The sun and the sky and the sea Are beaming and streaming with glee ; The stars twinkle at night At the glorions sight, And the moon shines as bright As can be. For Dewey is off on his way, Coming back from the scene of affray ; And the stars and the pack Of the fish on his track Know he doesn’t come back Every day. ——pa—_—_ The Peace Commissioners are about due on these shores, but no one has suggested that they be received with naval and land parades, nor are there any triomphal arches being erected for them to walk under. Peace hath her victories, but they do seem to be lese renowned thar those of war. _——— We learn from an esteemed codfish who occasionally sends despatches from beneath the sea that on the day of Admiral Dewey's arrival even the fish wil! not be found in schools. A general holiday seems to be the order, , > “ By Jove, Snip the tailor has failed! Jarley. “ Why, were you interested in Snip's place ?” queried Perkins “Very much.- I owe him $500, Pm afraid the receiver will make me pay up,” said Jarley. That hite me pretty hard,” said ———— “* Bosbyshell is a bright fellow, eh 7” “Very. He is known as a satirist.” “So [ have heard. Is he really a satirist 2 * Well, don't know, From what I have heard of his jokes I would call bim a flatirist.” a Wesuy Waters. “ Dusty, suppose you was Dewey !” Duden, . “TI won't do nothin’ of the sort. I'm hungry, bat I ain’t a-gotn’ to ruin my stummick by thinkin’ of the things he's got to eat when he gets back.” —_—_—_—>—— “It is growing warmer—” He mopped the perspiration from bis brow and glared repreachfully at ——~.-— Bossy. “I think Tommy Jones is the meanest boy I ever knew.” Mama. “ What bas Tommy been duing now 7” Bouuy. “1 said I was going to be a poet when I grew up, and he anid he'd bean editor, and wouldn't priut any of my poems unless I'd be bis horse every time.” —_ Litrie Ecman, “Pa, what is fame?” Prorissoun Broavusap. “It consists in having a great many people find out that you have done something they don't care anything about.” PROGRESS. “Is YOUR LEMONADE SWEET ENOUGH, DEAK?” “Yus'm, AND U?’s THE FIRST TIME | EVER HAD ANY THROUGH A MACARONI.”