Harper's Bazaar 1899-09-30: Vol 32 Iss 39
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A YEAR TEN CENTS A-COPY FOUR DOLLARS . Ky mF Pa / ~~ S THE BRIDE OF THE NEWPORT SEASON. Copyright, 1899, by HARPER & BROTHERS. A// Rights Reserved NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER - 30; 1899 THE PRINCESS CANTACUZENE.—[MISS JULIA DENT GRANT.] kyr ZB fa \\>. . C3 KK) Eh ee eee A BES BS Gertrude Kasebier. e oot > = ¢ >| te i by SD) Sf c™ Photograph PUBLISHED WEEKLY VOL. XXXIL—NUMBER 39
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HARPERS SVE nected THE WEEK ISS JULIA DENT GRANT, whose portrait is given in this number of the Bazar, has a beauty uid a presence which would make her a marked figure anywhere. She the lustrous black hair which made the glory of her own mother’s head when, a has same a young bride, she dazzled Washington so ciety W hit dark clear complexion, aud though her smile has not the rare quality which distinguished that of her mother, it has a promise in it which the happiness of her marriage and its attendant joys will probably fulfil. The photograph which is the first- page illustration of this number was taken by Gertrude Kiisebier, whose skill with yn her visits to the House. She has the same eyes and her camera has won her a wide reputation, especially in the Newport world, She spent two days studying Miss Grant's face and figure before she ventured to pose her Before the Bazar goes to press Miss Grant will have be come the Princess Cantacuzene by her marriage at New port on September 25, at ‘' Beaulieu,” the cottage of her wint, Mrs. Potter Palmer \ THEN Mrs. Robert Louis Stevenson arrived in New York, the other day, she was asked by the Custom house official to give her name and place of residence The first she answered readily, but hesitated long at the MRS. Who has jast come to the United States to live. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON second query. She could not say Samoa, for Vailima has The house where she lived so long is riddled by shells; the gardens that were her pride are ploughed by bullets and trampled by marching feet; the stone wall covered with scented creepers, where she so often gath ered flowers in the calm evenings, has been used as a for- tification; the hall, a large pleasant room, the scene of much kindly hospitality, has been the rendezvous of Sa- moan warriors. The chiefs of Mataafa’s clan, stanch friends of the Stevenson family, occupied Vailima as a stronghold when they rallied to defend their liberty, so dear to these independent islanders, and successfully held it against the Americans and English. Stories of the looting of Vailima by the natives, that have appeared from time to time in the press, are false; the only damage done to the property was by the guns of the war-ships Though Mrs. Stevenson had been some time in Eng land, she could not name London as her “‘ place of resi dence”; nor Spain, Portugal, or Madeira, which she had visited. She intends going to California to build a house Where do you live?” asked the Custom-house officer, with increasing impatience, and in sheer desperation Mrs. Stevenson answered, “* New York.” Mrs. Stevenson always travels by the German Line; on the passage over, an incident occurred reminding her that the world is small. A German waiter stared at her, in passing, with such persistence that he attracted her attention, The man finally spoke to her maid, asking if the lady were not Mrs. Stevenson of Samoa. He had been employed, he said, at the German Hotel in Apia, and had often waited upon Mrs. Stevenson, He hoped that she would return some day to Samoa, and that he might also. been sold recently HARPER’S BAZAR fF ARLS ‘OURT, the popular open-air place of entertain- ment in London, has this summer been occupied by a show called Savage South Africa. The chief attraction has been Prince Lobengula, a full-blooded Matabele, with his attendant warriors. Many English women have daily visited his kraal, and, not content with this, have show- ered these negroes with civilities and presents, upon which attentions the savages, in primitive fashion, have put an interpretation not altogether in accordance with the rules of civilized life. Finally one of the class of ex- citement-craving and notoriety-loving English girls has decided that her happiness depended upon wedding this prince of ebony hue. Two clergymen have refused point- blank to assist in making her the Princess Lobengula, and one of them has even tried to have the marriage license revoked. Nevertheless, this foolish girl, to call her by no more severe a name, declared that she would MISS CHAPLIN. Vou. XXXI1., No. 39 second only to that the Marquis of Bute enjoys—a solid fortune, too, invested in the rich Wynyard coal-mines. The three country -seats to which he is heir, Seaham Hall, Wynyard Park, and Mount Stewart, are reckoned among the finest esiates in that land of noble homes. At Wynyard Park alone there are stables where three hundred horses find luxurious shelter, and where five hundred can be housed.’ All these blessings, with the Londonderry family jewels thrown in, surely entitle Miss Chaplin to a feeling of pride in her choice of a hus- band. The obligations, however, are by no means all on the lady’s side, for she is just nineteen, reported to possess all the wit and taste of an American woman, and she is uncommonly fair to see, even when presented at court by her aunt, the present Duchess of Sutherland. In November this peculiarly lucky young pair are to be mar- ried, with great state, at Westminster Abbey. LORD CASTLEREAGH The most prominent Society Engagement in England to-day. wed the black man, even should she be forced to journey to another country in order to do so. She first met him in war paint aud feathers at Bloemfontein, where his Royal Highness has a farm, to which it is his desire to return, accompanied by his fair bride * * * OOKING as taught in the vacation schools must be of untold bevefit in many households of the great East Side. The summer courses were under the direction of Mrs. Perry P. Williams, the supervisor of domestic science iu our public schools, and it is due to her that the six weeks’ course in kitchen economy was supplemented by courses in house- work and nurs ing There were thirty lessons in cooking, each two and a half hours long, and, strange to say, the bread lesson was the most popular of them all. Home-made bread was au uuknown quantity to most of the pupils, and Mrs. Williums says that the bread made iu the classes was eaten by the children with as much relish as other children would partake of cake, while there was scarcely a girl who did not put this newly acquired know ledge to immediate use in her own home. It is considered that the popularity of the bread lessons alone would have made the suc- cess of the course. The Italians all appreciated the dishes made of macaroni, but the Germans were the only ones who cared for cheese, despite the emphasis the teachers laid upon the fact of its nutritive value. After the food was cook- ed, it was taken into the dining- room, and there served on a pret tily arranged table to the mem- bers of the class by the girls who had cooked it; the cooks then sat down and ate their own portions in proper fashion. Many of them had never before sat at a table to eat their food, and the idea of eating at a regular time or with the assembled family was entirely novel to them * * * HEN Lord Castlereagh came of age, last month, not only were elaborate rejoicings and en- tertainment, after the English fash ion, held in honor of his majority, but a flutter of excitement attend ed the announcement of his en gagement to Miss Chaplin. To British mothers with pretty mar riageable daughters the last bit of news was an unpleasant shock, for this young lord has been endowed by fortune as though he were a fairy prince. and he is considered the most desirable parti in Great Britain. As eldest son of the Marquis of Londonderry, he is heir to a fortune UITE a modern fairy princess is the dearest cousin and friend of Miss Chaplin, who is to be first bride- maid at the above-mentioned wedding; for one of the wealthiest girls in England is Lady Sibell, Lilian Macken zie, Countess of Cromartie, Viscountess of Tarbat, Baron ess Castlehaven, and Baroness Macleon of Leod. By the will of Queen Victoria these are the titles of this slip of a girl, who bears them in virtue of inberitance from her grandmother, that beautiful and good Duchess of Suther land who was the Queen’s most intimate friend. Besides her higisounding titles, the débutante Countess of Cro martie (whose name, by-the-way, is pronounced Kromety) inherits Scotch lands and London real estate that bring THE COUNTESS OF CROMARTIE, One of the most beautiful Girls in English Society, and a Countess in her own Right. her in an enormous income, The major part of the little Countess’s life has been passed in her home in the High lands, where she wears the plaid of her clan, the Hay- Mackenzies, goes deer-stalking and salmon-fishing and speaks among her ‘‘ ain people” very fluent Gaelic.
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SEPTEMBER 30, 1899 HARPER’S BAZAR A WINTER’S READING HAT shall a young girl read? When she begins to show a strong appetite for novels and short stories she is apt to meet with very little encouragement from the rest of the family. She might better “do something useful, prac- tise, sew—anything rather than hang over a silly novel.” But the point is that it should not be a silly novel. Mothers who understand that this craving for novel-reading is the girl’s nat- ural desire to know something about the world opening before her realize that here is the opportunity to give her the best reading, to broaden and train her mind, and to put her in the Way of one of the greatest enjoyments life has to offer —the companionship of the best minds of the past and present. One advice is to turn the eager reader loose in a good library to browse in freedom, but most of us are apt to have haphazard libraries, of which a good part is the choice of our friends who presented the books, and another part, even though it may be distinctly classic, may as well not be read by the too ‘** young person.” As to giving ‘‘ the best,” the discouraging thing is that people will quarrel and disagree about the ‘‘ best,” and also that the ‘‘ young person” who is thirsting for a novel may not be so ready to devour it served too classically or in hexameters. A simple advice is to recommend the sort of book you used to close yourself at sixteen with a sigh, wishing that there were some hundred pages more; an absorbing adventure, a fascinating love-story, a descriptive story of the kind that transports you from place and hour, and makes you read long into the blind-man’s holiday, forgetting lamps and eyesight. When such a story is written by a hand that handles a pen well, and is guided by a heart which understands other human hearts, you need not fear the company in which you leave your daughter for hours ata time. The hours will be far from wasted. NOVELS. Tuackeray: Pendennis, The Newcomes. Dickens: David Copperfield, Nicholas Nickle- by, The Old Curiosity Shop, The Pickwick Papers, Dombey and Son. STEVENSON: enaneet, David Balfour. Biackmons: Lorna Doone. Soorr: Ivanhoe, Kenilworth. Go.pemrru: The Vicar of Wakefield. Mas. Gasket: Cranford, Mary Barton. Bronrt, Cuancorre: Jane Eyre, Shirley. Bronté, Euity: Wuthering Heights. Jane Austen: Pride and Prejudice, De. Baown: Rab and His Friends, Henry James: Daisy Miller. Kirtine: The Jupgie Books (I. and II.), Wee Willie Winkfe and Other Stories, The Brushwood Boy, Captains Courageous, The Day's Work. Cuaries Reape: Christie Johnstone. Wasutneton Irvine: The Sketch Book. Epwaup E. Hare: The Man without a Coun- try. Harner Besousr Stowe: Uncle Tom's Cabin. Lovisa A.oorr: Littl Women. Howr.ts: The Rise of Silas Lapham, The Lady of the Aroostook, Srooxton : Rudder Grange, The Casting Away of Mrs. Lecks and Mrs, Aleshine. O.viver Wenvett. Houmes: The Autocrat of the Breakfast Table. Hawtuorne: The Marble Faun, The House of the Seven Gables. Cuartes Dopey Wauner: A Little Journey in the World, The Golder House, That Fortune (to be read in this order). Corti: Proe and L Many Wiixins: Pembroke, A New Eugjand Nun and Other Stories. Coorer: The Spy. James Lane Auten: The Kentucky Cardinal. Batzao: Engénie Grandet. Dumas pére: The Three Musketeers. Oorave Fever: The Romance of a Poor Young Man. Harévy: The Abbé Constantin. Vioror Hvueo: Notre Dame of Paria. Maarten Maarrens: God's Fool, The Greater Glory. Cervantes: Don Quixote. Fuerrae: Debit and Credit. Manuttr, E: Gold Else, The Old Mameeil’s Secret. Vonpenie Beemer: The Neighbors, The ome. Bodenstserne Bsinnson: Arne, De La Morte Fovqué: Undine. Mauchhausen's Tales. HISTORICAL NOVELS. Kinesiey: Hypatia. Watraor, Lewis: Ben-Hur. Grore Euers: Uarda, Homo Sum, An Egyp- tian Princess, Butwer : The Last Days of Pompeii. MYTHOLOGY. Kixestey : Heroes of Greece. Rawsusane Wonder- book, Tanglewood Tales. Lanter: Boys’ King Arthur, Boys’ Mabino- gion, Boys’ Froissart. POETRY. Soort: The Lady of the Lake. Lory Lytrron: Lacille. ‘Trenee : Frithiioff's Saga. R. L. Stevenson : A Child's Garden of Verses, Poems and Ballads. Tennyson, LonereLtow, Heine: Book of Songs. Gormue—Souitver : Selected Poems, FOR THE GIRL WHO ENJOYS ESSAYS AND WISE SAYINGS. Marovs Aveetivs: The Thoughts of the Em- peror Marcus Aurelius, Pasoat. : Thoughts. Emenson: Condact of Life, Society and Solitude. Maerea.inox : The Treasure of the Humble, 815
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§ Oia ea ee ee Be da wrt J = Ju i ir a) ‘| HALLWAYS [| FIREPLACES [| & SETTLES jf UJ Te an | a | emcee 1A ~- rit fir wes in country houses, especially those on fli reugh effects are very pleasing t faced stone with matched edges, or terra it in large sizes, works out nicely in combi n with oa ish, or mahogany : -* ctive s fireplace is shown in the large i nd is is evidently an example of good ' \ the s e that was available in the locality cushion, on which a few sofa pillows will always be found useful Boxes of various sizes play an important part in the window-seats that are to be found in many houses, and these are generally the handiwork of the ladies or grown children, who have fashioned the useful pieces of furniture from boards and boxes. and upholstered them with excel sior or hair from an old mattress 4 COZY INGLE-NOOK FORMED BY Wr ht-iron andirons and fixtures are preferable where stone-work is about the fireplace, as they are in keeping with the semi-crude appearance given by the rough sur fa f the facing and linings. lron-work of this kind, if | read W coating of Berlin black, may be kept in ry appeara by occasionally rubbing it off with a flanne! cloth moistened in crude oil Window-seats are of all shapes and sizes, according to the space the ip some extend along the entire side ft aroom, while wrs are but three or four feet in length Some are made with backs, and others are simply boxes wvered with upholstery material and arranged with a HALL WITH OPEN-WOKK PARTITION, ROCK-FACED STONE A very comfortable seat can be made from an ordinary wash-bench about four feet long and sixteen or eighteen inches high. A flounce may be gathered aud tacked all uround the top board, and the seat upholstered with hair, or even several layers of heavy burlap or bagging, such as furniture is baled in Cozy corners will of course have to be planned ac- cording to their shape and location; but if soap-boxes are used as a foundation, a top or seat may easily be fash- jioned from ordinary floor-boards with matched edges, and securely nailed or screwed to the boxes to form a strong frume-work for the upholstering. A umique and STONE FIREPLACE, SHOWING TWO ATTRACTIVE STYLES OF new piece of furniture is a combination seat and card- table, and one of the more elaborate style may be seen in the illustration, standing near the stone fireplace. Such a piece of furniture can easily be made at home by using ® wash-bench as a foundation, and building up sides to it so they will act as arms. A square table-top may be constructed of matched boards planed on both sides, and held together with battens at the ends of the boards. FIREPLACE AND COMBINATION TABLE-BENCH This, in turn, is to be hinged to the arms of the bench, and When in a standing position it acts as a back to the bench, but when down it forms a splendid spacious table Ingle-nooks are easily formed by the arrangement of furniture, and where a spacious hearth is at least six feet long two sets of bookshelves can be made and placed at right angles to the mantel. Seats made from benches may rest inside the shelves toward the fireplace, and while one of the illustrations suggests a grill backing for the seat, the bookshelves will prove more useful and decorative. SETTLES.
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WEDDING TROUSSEAU HATS of an AUTUMN BRIDE HELIOTROPE VELVET HAT VERY hat in this trousseau has an individuality of its own, and they are, one and all, in the very latest style: There are hats for receptions, hats for the morning walk or shopping tour, hats for travelling, bats for the theatre, and each one is prettier than the other. Perhaps a more complete col- lection has never been seen in any trousseau before. turned up at the left side, just us the fawn-colored one, but there is no other trimming there, only the stitched bands. At the same side is a full bunch of dark blue velvet loops which are wired, the wire being stitched in, so as to keep the loops in place. With the loops isa beau- tiful tuft of soft cocks’ feathers, which fall toward the face and are most graceful. WALKING HAT IN GRAY FELT hem isa beautiful large black satin hat which AYis inet becoming. It has a plain crown anid brim, the satin not fulled on at all, nor is it edged with any thing. The brim is quite broad, and is slightly turned up on the left side. There are six long ostrich plumes in it, which are most artistically arranged, one of them falling gracefully over the edge of the brim at the right side I'here are no bows of ribbon or chour at the back. This hat is worn well over the face, but not in an exaggerated way. The black satin effect, with the feathers, is must becoming * ° - CHARMING walking hat is of the new shade of fawn-color, which is to be so much worn this winter. It is a shade which is par- ticularly becoming to brunettes. The hat is of BLACK SATIN AND FEATUERS. NE of the most becoming hats, which is to be worn at receptions and visiting, is of heliotrope velvet. It is a smaller hat than the others,with a much narrower brim, and hus somewhat the effect ofa toque. It has the velvet put on both the brim and crown, very full, making soft folds on the hair. Directly in front is a large bow and loops of the sume velvet as the hat, and the edges of them are trimmed with two narrow bands of a paler shade of the heliotrope, but of satin, not velvet. This pretty hat is fin- ished off by a beautiful amethyst buckle in the centre of the bow. ‘There is no other trimming at all. * * * IMPLE and stylish is a walking hat in English gray felt, of « most attractive shape. It has a slightly TRAVELLING HAT IN BLUE FELT are three medium-sized gray quills, which stand up stiff and straight. This hat is also used for golf and driving, aud is simple and at the same time elegant. «** MONG all the other beautiful hats is one which must not pass unnoticed, It is of Nile-green velvet, which et Wa FAWN-COLORED WALKING ILIA has not much fulness,except around the brim. The hat is turned up directly in front; and right in the middle, going toward the back, is a long bunch of black cocks’ feathers. Then from that, falling to each side, are ostrich plumes, one going to the left, the other to the right. Where the feathers come together is a smal! bunch of black velvet ribbon—a sort of rosette, with a rhinestone buckle in the centre. This is a most attractive hat, and exccedingly becoming. - ° 7 HE very latest combination of color is brought togeth er in w magenta and purple hat. It is the newest idea from Paris, and will no doubt be very popular here this winter. The crown of the hat is of purple velvet, with no fulness, the top of it be- ing beautifully spangled The sides of the crown are felt The crown is not too high and the brim not too wide. It is faced with a beautiful shade of fawn velvet of a deeper tone, and is decidedly turned up on the left side. Resting on the hair is a twisted band of satin rib bon the same shade as the hat. On this band is a very large full rosette of the same ribbon, and at the back, where there is also a band, are two more roseties, only much small er. Coming from the left just where the hat up, is a bunch of loops which stand well forward, and two long, soft fawn-colored quills, which also go toward the front. There is a rhine stone buckle in the centre of the large rosette. side turns plain. The brim is not very wide, and is made, or covered rather, with magenta velvet, put on very full. Itis not turned upatall, and is worn quite far down over the face On the left side is a large bow of magenta velvet with spangled ends. Great care should taken in the choosing of the shades of magenta and purple. as if they do not harmonize, the whole effect of the hat will be spoiled. There is a violet purple and a red- dish shade of purple. This latter is the one that should be bought to go with magenta. In the case of any one wishing to copy this lat, it would be advisable to get the magenta velvet first, and then the purple to shade withit. If the combinati: n of magenta and purple is be > ° * FOR travelling there is a stylish hat in dark not becoming, the. same blue soft felt of the very finest quality. The crown is very high, narrowing at the top, and the brim is of medium width. All around the crown and brim are stitched narrow bands of black velvet cut on the bias, five bands on the crown and five on the brim. The hat is PUKPLE AND MAGENTA VELVETY. rolled brim and an Alpine crown. It is trimmed with a band of chinchilla fur around the crown, and has at the left side a, small knot of gray velvet. Stuck in this knot NILE-GREEN VELVET HAT. idea may be earried out in other colors, as, for in stance, in two shades of blue or green, or in the soft browns with which several colors combine so effectively. The hat is in itself so sim ple that it depends entirely upon the color combination and upon the effective draping of the velvet.
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B18 FOR STREET AND HOUSE HE question of skirts is not decided for all winter they must, however, have a sheaf-like appear ince in the fit over the hips, but they must not be exaggeratedly tight across the back. In Lon- don some of the newest and smartest gowns have two box-pleats directly in the centre of the back of the skirt; these pleats are fastened down beneath, and they are illowed to flare below the hips, while the skirt itself is cut as scant as possible. This style of skirt is one of the very best that have been seen for a long time, and it can be made becoming both to stout and to slender women. It is par ticularly good in cloth, but must always be made with the drop skirt However, there are very few cloth gowns yw that are have found how much than when made not made with the drop skirt, for women lighter and less cumbersome it is lining in with the ‘ Tux watet in this llastration can be made in flannel), silk, or satin, but should have a silk vest, and the fronts must be outlined with either black braid or black velvet ribbon AIR cloth is no longer used in the skirt itself, nor any stiffened lining, but the drop skirt can be made stiff if so desired and hair cloth or crinoline used, One point of the new skirts is worth noticing: there is a braid put on to save the hem, but not so that it shows. No thing is more annoying than to have the hem of a skirt wear out long before the rest of the gown shows any signs of wear, so that this is a distinctly good point. The skirts are still long. Some of the newest touch both in front and on the sides as well as at the back; but this isa hard pattern of skirt to cut, and fortunately it is permis sible to have the skirt long only in the bac Of course it must not be short in front except in the sense that it clears the ground > ° . So" E fascinating flannel waists are to take the place of the silk and cambric shirt-waist; they are almost invariably made of French flannel, and are unlined. They are regular shirt-waists with a yoke iu the back, or plain back and with just a little fulness in front, and are fastened with small gilt buttons. They are made in plain flannel in all the light shades, and also in the polkadotted flannel. The very prettiest are blue with a tiny polka dot of pink or red, while the red and blue with black polka dots are always smart. This is by no means an economical fashion, as the waists soil very quickly; but it is a very pretty one, and there is much more warmth in the flannel waists than in the silk ones One style of flannel waist is a little more elaborate and really more useful; it is made of plain flannel), red or blue, is cut out in a square at the neck, and has a chemisette and stock-collar of black satin; and on the sleeves, that are in coat shape, are smal! turned-over cuffs of black satin These are very pretty waists, and are fashionable with any skirt > ° ol LL the very long cloaks and coats that are to be worn this winter are most elaborate in construction, but are too warm to be put on at present, and they are in sharp contrast to a number of exceedingly smart short coats Some of these are tight-fitting, double - breasted, made rather like a dress-waist, and with double revers. Then there is the other style like a cutaway coat, but with straight fronts, also double-breasted. This style is very attractive in dark blue or dark green, and is also made up In tan > ° a HE evening gowns exhibited now are mostly dinner gowns. They arg of silk, both plain and figured; the waists are invariably tight-fitting, have very little trim ming, and are cut much higher in the neck than last year A very dainty little frock just finished is of two shades of gray, very light in tone, made with a double skirt, and trimmed with ruchings of white satin ribbon. The back of the waist is plain, only trimmed with ruchings of rib bon around the shoulders. In front there is a bertha made of an old-fashioned round lace collar,and above the bertha is a garland of pink roses that ends at the left shoulder with a high spray of the roses tied in white gauze ribbon. The sleeves are just small puffs; but with the gown there is an extra pair of sleeves, made of the same lace as the bertha. These silk evening gowns for informal dinners ure one of the new fashions of the season, and will be very much used for opera wear in the orchestra seats. HARPER’S BAZAR ELVET costumes and fancy vel- vet coats are to be among the lux- uries of the season. The velvet cos- tumes are to be very plain, but im- mensely smart, and there are no styles so suitable to velvet as the long polo- naise and princesse gowns without any trimming except flatlines. Rath- er a daring effect has been attempt- ed in a royal purple velvet costume trimmed with flat bands of heavy guipure lace of a cream white. The skirt has the velvet front breadth, and a flounce around the bottom. Around this flounce is a band of the guipure lace. The upper part of the gown is a long princesse that comes together, or rather that opens, in front, with wide revers. On these revers are bands of the guipure, and there is also a line of the white on the front part of the over-skirt. The high col lar is faced with black chiffon, shirred very close just at the throat; a white chemisette of lace, and stock - collar also of lace, are seen with a bow of turquoise velvet without ends. An- other velvet gown made in black vel vet has no trimming whatever, but there is a high collar and long revers of chinchilla fur, and the sleeves are lined—as indeed is the whole coat— with white satin; the sleeves are, moreover, slashed at the wrist, to show the satin living and- under- sleeve of white lace * * * OATS of the fancy velvet to be worn with cloth skirts or with black satin skirts came into notice last year, but the fashion was not gener ally enough adopted to make it com mon. The velvet has a polka dot of white satin, and the coat is made with flaring revers, which are cov ered with hand-embroidered silk, gen erally in a flowered design. AUTUMN STREKT cloth, the new The front of the shade of red, with rows of narrow black soutache braid. waist fastens over the vest with two black velvet bows Vou. XXXII, No. 89 Venetian trimmed oostume in AUTUMN O8 winter Gown of cloth and velvet. This can be also copied in two shades of cloth. The coat is in one piece, and can be worn without any belt if so desired. rc Bi.vk ovetn gown, trimmed with raised embroidery of a deeper shade. It is made in princesse effect in front, extending well up under the short bolero; deep yoke of mousseline de sole, and wide revers and collar. MYRTLE -GREEN OLOTH WALKING OofTruME trimmed with black bands. A deep corselet of black is fastened with gilt buttons, The chemisette is of lace. The trimming consists of a Greek pat- tern in braiding.
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SkITBMBESR 30, 1899 Cn Ceoper—— MASTIC CLOTH GIRL’S GOWN Cut Paper Pattern No. 1021.—({See Page 831.) MASTIC CLOTH GIRL’S GOWN HE girl's pattern gown issued with this number consists of a three-gored skirt and fancy bodice. The latter is made upon a fitted lining, the shir- ring of the lower bodice being applied over the stitched lining. The shaped upper bodice takes the form of a bolero in the back, where the garment is closed with a small concealed fly. The rounded edge of the bolero is finished with rows of stitching and a full flounced ruffle of doubled crépe de Chine, the material employed for the shirred bodice and sash. The sleeves are close-fitting and made with but one inside seam, where a box-pleat is introduced at the bend of the elbow. The House gown in redingote effect, made of either cloth, crépe de Chine, or silk, and braided with a deeper shade of silk. A velvet band and two velvet bows are either black or a much darker shade of color than the costume, HARPER’S BAZAR sleeve is finished at the wrist with rows of stitching and a flounce of crépe. The skirt has slight fulness in the centre of the back, but this is concealed under two in- verted pleats. The garment should be finished at the foot by a facing reaching quite to the top row of stitch ing. Perforations are given in the pattern for one line of stitching. The skirt is intended to be thirty inches in length when finished. The bust measure of al! our girls’ waists is thirty-one inches. The original model, from which pattern is modelled, is of light-weight mastic cloth, with trimmings of pink crépe de Chine. Of cloth 54 inches wide 5 yards will be required for the making; also 5 yards of crépe de Chine. REDINGOTE OF CLOTH FOR CARRIAGE USE HE redingote with waistcoat shown on this page is designed to be worn with any skirt issued in pattern form by the Bazar, the pattern of skirt not being included with that of the redingote. Dark red cloth was used in the original garment, with introduced waistcoat of white satin covered with guipure; but the redingote form will be found very ef- fective for treatment in velvet or heavy cloaking. It is designed for out-door service, and differs only from the Newmarket in that it is not double-breasted. The gar- ment has a regularly divided coat back, with long seams extending to the foot of the skirt. It is sheath-fitting, but in order to enable the wearer to lift the skirt with comfort the first seam to right of centre back seam is left open. To provide for this an under-lap will be found on the side of the gore in the paper pattern. To this the outer gore may be securely hooked, if desired, but the proportions of the pattern are so carefully calculated that the seam will not gape in ordinary wear if hooks are thought to be objectionable. The front of the redingote is fitted by a dart that extends the full length of the gar- ment, a point which will prove highly valuable where narrow materials are to be used. The coat sleeves are sufficiently large to permit of the wearing of a bodice sleeve underneath. The waistcoat consists of front only, and should be made separately. It is fitted with the usual darts, and should be whipped on to (not stitched in with) the shoulder seams of the redingote and strongly tacked at the sides of the armhole and at the top of the under- arm seam. Attached to the waist-line at the sides, elastic should be introduced of a proper size to pass around the back and hold the waistcoat snugly in position. This garment should have an interlining of thin flannel and of some light, stiff canvas. The redingote is lined through- out with silk, and the same color scheme should be carried out in the waistcoat lining and elastic. Where white lin ing is employed for the waistcoat the elastic should be of the same color as that obtaining in the body of the gar ment. Where lace is employed, small butions and silk loops are suggested as most practicable us well as fash ionable. The price for this garment is 35 cents. For the making of the redingote 4 yards of material 54 inches wide, or 12 yards 20-24 inches wide will be re- quired; also 9 yards of taffeta for lining, and 1} yards of white satin for waistcoat. Gown OF PRRIWINKLE-sLUK oLoTH, made with long redingote lined with white silk. ‘The pelerine is in triple shape pointed in the back, as is also the redingote, and is trimmed with sable fur. The entire coat is embroidered on the cloth; pointed corselet of blue shot taffeta silk. REDINGOTE OF CLOTH FOR CARRIAGE USE Cut Paper Pattern No, 206.—[See Page 831.) Moventne costume of Henrietta cloth trimmed with crépe. The body of the waist is entirely of crépe in fine tacks. is around the skirt and up the front, A band of crépe
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HARPER’S BAZAR WORKING UP THE DANDRUFF? BRUSHING ————EEE ROTARY MOVEMENT. THE KNUCKLE MOVEMENT. THE THUMB MOVEMENT. THE SEESAW MOVEMENT. THE HEAD & THE HAIR LOOSENING THE SCALP. HE sealp is only a part of the human anatomy, and when in an unhealthy condition it must be treated, as any other part, in its relation to the whole W hen it becomes dry and lifeless, witha constant itching, it is in a state of advancing paralysis. It has ceased to do its appointed work, The old hair dies and falls out and the new ceases to take its The scalp must then be stimulated to action again, therefore first remove the cause, then treat the scalp. The cause may be a general run-down condition of the system, low fever, unhealthy state of the stomach or of Or it may be local, such as the use of sul stances which are harmful to the scalp and hair. There exists no substance for “ touching up” the hair or bright ening the color of it which is not positively injurious Many substances commonly used in shampoos also dead en the hair. The cause may be dandruff, due to a microbe communicated by contact. In this case the first step is to apply a drug which will kill the microbe without injur ing the hair, Or the condition may be simply want of the proper action of the s« alp in throwing off waste materials and in supplying requisite nourishment to the roots of the hair the eyes . ° > "THE most important part of the treatment is massage Phis stimulates the circulation of the blood which sup- plies the nutritive matter through the minute capillaries to the hair cells. It also aids in carrying off the impuri ties. The effect is similar to that of exercise upon the body. The scalp should be kept loose so as to aid circu lation. Any one with intelligence and a steady hand can learn to do a few simple massage movements which are best in general treatment by a little practice, watching the effect meanwhile. It is often necessary to supplement massage by the use of a tonic to feed the scalp > ° . hee treat the sealp, divide the hair by a number of small parts, allowing only a bandfal of hair in each divi luke a course comb, and holding it sidew ays, with i firm bat light stroke work up the dandruff well in one division at a time, The movement resembles scraping rather than combing, but must not be sufficiently hard to irritation. Be careful to hokl the comb so that the sides and not the points of the teeth will come in contact with the head. Go all over the head in this way. Next brush the dundraff away with a short light stroke, keep ing the divisions, and working always upon the scalp and not upon the hair, Do net pound or brush too hard, and cCuus do not brush the length of the bair until the treatment is finished. When the sealp is free from dandruff, apply the tonic with a small brush that has never been used for any other purpose. A toothbrush will do. Keeping the hair well parted, begin at the nape of the neck, and work up against the grain to the top of the head Do not try to brush the tonic in This purpose is gained by massage. * * * HE first movement consists in placing the cushions of all five fingers on the scalp and moving them with a light motion —seesaw movement. The hands and fingers are kept in the one position, the movement coming from the elbows or wrists. The object is to stim ulate circulation The second movement is from the thumbs only. They are pressed firmly upon the head, and with a rotatory action the scalped is moved. The thin spots on the forehead and temples come in for the next attention. A rotatory movement is given with the fingers clustered, as illustrated, until a good glow re- sults. In this, as in the second movement, the scalp is moved under the fingers, and not rubbed or stroked The knuckles are next used, the hands moved likewise in a rotatory movement, for the thin places at the back of the head and behind the ears. A number of other mas sage movements are used for particular purposes, but these four are the most important, and are generally ap- plicable to all ordinary cases. side OME of the other movements are—the four fingers to- gether moved firmly backwards and forwards on top of the head to loosen the sealp; a sliding movement with the palms of the hands on the temples to stimulate peripheral circulation, and picking up with the thumb and first fin ger all of the little muscles and thus exciting them to ac- tien. If the scalp is not sensitive work, it up between the thumbs in the fashion known to masseurs as kneading. All of these movements are done from the finger-joints, wrists, or elhows—never from the shoulders. No great strength is required or desired to give them. A light, firm thrust is best. Care should be had not to tangle the hair or work it up. under the finger. The nails of the masseur should be cut short to avoid scratching * ° > HIE treatment should be taken about four times a week, lasting three-quarters of an hour each time. In addition, for an excessively dry scalp the following for- mula should be used—Resorcine, 48 grains; sulphate of quinine, 5 grains; lanoline, 1 ounce. Apply at night by rubbing into the scalp with the finger A scalp which is too oily is frequently the result of too much washing. The oil which should go to nourish the hair escapes instead on the head. For this use—Cinchona bark, a pinch; sulphate of quinine, 25 grains; tincture of cantharides, 4 ounce; nux vomica, 2drachms; bay rum or cologne, 8 ounces Apply at night with a bristle brusb. Either of these tonics should be used continually for two or three months or more until the new hair grows. When the trouble seems to be a fine dandruff use re- sorcine,1 ounce; alcohol,4 ounces; distilled water,4ounces Apply once a day with a dropper, parting the hair and dropping the fluid slowly along the part until it is applied to every part of the scalp. HE hair should not be washed oftener than once in eight weeks. Toshampoo it, beat up the whites of three eggs and rub well on the scalp. The lime in the egg is food for the roots of the hair, but does not cleanse it en tirely. Next wash it thoroughly with green castile soap in two waters comfortably warm to the touch. Rub well, taking care not to scratch the head. Rinse in at least three waters, the first warm, the last cold. Rub almost dry with a coarse towel and then with the hands. Fin ish with a sun-bath. EVER use borax, ammonia, or soda. oring matter in the roots of the hair. heat, as it makes the hair brittle. For gray hair, when washing, never use ordinary soap, as it makes it yellow. Green castile is the best for gen- eral use. A few drops of common bluing put into the last water, when rinsing gray or white hair, give it a beau- tiful shade, and does no harm. It is usually well to singe or clip the hair once a year When it is desirable to keep the ends of the hair closed in order to prevent the escape of nutritive matter, singeing is best. Unless one is in perfect health, however, it should never be singed, because any impurities which would pass off through the scalp and hair are thus driven back to the roots, where they will cause trouble. In such causes the hair should be clipped, and the ends thus left open All kill the col- Never dry by HE hair should be brushed and aired everyday. Fan- ning is good. A half-hour is none too much to devote to brushing, airing, and applying the tonic when ii is used. It is not necessary to brush hard, the object being to get good circulation, remove dust, and give lustre. A good English bristle brush, not too stiff, is the best, and it should be washed often in hot water and soap, and dried in the sun, The comb should be coarse and smooth, the teeth being well rounded at the base, and care should be taken that there are no points or rough places on it. The average age of healthy hair is from one to three years. Treatment is to restore to health such as is not already dead or too neurly so to be redeemed, and to cause the new to grow. It usually begins to appear after about six weeks, but the treatment,to be of much effect, must be kept up continually until the new hair is well started.
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— —~ — _ _ — ane — —_—. a sieeemneeieimmnementtl Contident To-morrow CHAPTER XVIII. N Sunday afternoon Sartain went to Stuyvesant Square, hoping to find Esther alone. In this expectation he was disappointed, for Dircks was sitting before the fire, smoking his corn-cob pipe. The old man had caught cold the morning he waited on the dock, and Esther had forbidden him to leave the house. ? Sartain paid a long visit, overjoyed to be again in the same room with Esther. His eye gladdened as he watched her wait on her father, mixing his medicine and putting the tobacco ready to his hand. Dp She talked about her summer, telling -her visitor what she had most enjoyed, describing the pleasant excursions they had made, repeating the memorable sayings of the netabilities they had met. Sartain kept asking questions and leading her on for the sheer delight he took in listen- ing to the modulations of her voice, and in watching the lay of expression as she set forth her experiences. Once ne was moved to cap her account of a day’s trip from Interlaken over the Wengern Alp by the story of his own week on foot in the White Mountains when he was in college. . A little later Dircks began to ask Sartain for the latest news in regard to the election, then only ten days dis- tant. Manhattan was one of the organs of the citizens who wished to elect a Mayor wholly without regard to his politics and solely with reference to his ability to admin- ister the affairs of New York. The contest was likely to be exceedingly close, and the air was full of rumors of one kind or another. Sartain was broad enough to go behind this mere gossip and to pin his faith on the com- mon-sense of the people. He believed that the cause he advocated was right, and that it was therefore certain to prevail in the long-run, even if by chance it were de- feated in the coming election. Dircks was less confident and more defiant. When the old man’s feelings were wrought up, his taciturnity vanished, and he became un- duly loquacious. Sartain found himself immeshed in a political discussion in which he suspected Esther to be but doubtfully interested. He tried to lead her father away from it, but without suetess. At last the young man took his leave. He wanted to tell Esther what it meant to him to have her back again where he could feast his eyes with the sight of.her. But he could find no form of words that did not sound ful- some and absurd. His intention died away with a broken word or two, swallowed almost before it was spoken. On the stoop of the house he met Adams just about to ring the bell. Sartain knew that the artist had been called to Boston a week before by the serious illness of his mother, and he supposed that this was the reason his rival had not been at the dock to receive Esther on her return. Hello!” cried the painter; ‘ you're just the man I wanted to see—at least, seeing you now will save my having to write a letter, and that’s money in my pocket— two cents, at least. My mother’s all right again, and 1 got away from Boston yesterday morning by the bright light. In the afternoon I went to the Vivians’, and we've got a grand scheme!; and that’s what I was going to write you about. Can you chafe?” ‘*‘Chafe?” repeated Sartain, in perplexity. “Chafe— that’s what I said,” the artist answered. **Tt’s a new pocket-verb of my own. To chafe, to cook on a chafing-dish. It's bound to be accepted, that word is, because it fills a felt want.” “No,” the other responded, ‘“‘I can’t chafe—that is to say, I never tried.” “Then you can try on election night,” said Adams; ‘that’s the scheme. We shall all want to sit up and see the excitement, and find out how the thing goes, and be in at the death. So I’m giving a chafing-dish party at my studio, to celebrate the safe return of the Vivians and Miss Esther here. I'm going in now to ask her and her iconoclastic sire.” When he heard that Esther was to be invited, Sartain accepted promptly. As it chanced, he did not sce her again until they met at the studio on election night. He called in Stuyvesant Square the next Sunday afternoon only to be told that Esther had gone to Tuxedo from Friday to Monday with the Vivians. It was her father who gave him this infor- mation, and who detained him for an hour, discussing the political situation. On election-day, after Sartain voted, he went forth on a tour of inspection. His own district was in a well-to- do neighborhood. and he wanted to see whether an elec- tion could pass off as quietly in the worst parts of New York as here. He went down to Tompkins Square, and then on to Cherry Hill; and everywhere there was the same orderliness. The silence of the city on that day, when its inbabitants were deciding who should manage its affairs and control its immense revenues, the closed stores, the cessation of business in all the chief thorough- fares, the general air of expectancy—all these ane m- pressed Sartain. It was not until after the polls had closed that he saw the firstdrunken man. Even at night- fall, when the boys were making all the side streets brill- iant with bonfires, it was not often that any one was to be seen under the influence of liquor. That a day so ex- Begun in Haxrer’s Bazar No. 27, Vol. XXXIL. By = Ss B BRANDER citing as this should draw to a close without violence or disorder, this seemed to him a proof of the marvellous manner in which America had imposed its political ideals upon a population the balf of which had been born under wholly different political conditions. Standing under the gas-jet, he picked up Dust and Ashes, and me, hastily. the two or three chapters which de- scribed the turmoil of a political campaign. He relished his own writing; it seemed to him pretty good, after all; there were blemishes in it, no doubt, but the excite- ment of an election was caught not inadequately; the pic- ture he had presented was very like the reality. In his walk from Irving Place up to the tall building near ,Thirty-fourth Street where Adams had his studio Sartain had to thread his way through the throngs that packed the sidewalks of Madison Square, and that surged out here and there into the broad streets, making it diffi- cult for the street cars to force themselves through the compacting crowd. White screens gleamed aloft, on which magic lanterns projected the latest returns from all rts of the city. As the triumph of the reform party came more probable, the cheering became more fre- quent. Although the figures showed that the inhabitants of the city had divided almost equally, the utmost good- nature prevailed. Men on the winning side were chaffing men on the losing side; but there was no bitterness in it, the defeated accepting the result and declaring that their turn would come next, as the city would be sick of re- form inside of six months. From the lovely tower of the Madison Square Garden, faint against the deep blue sky, an electric search-light flashed signals to be interpreted many miles away. After Sartain had emerged from the swaying mob that was shrieking itself hoarse with every set of returns thrown upon the screens, he went on his way up town. Half-way between Madison Square and Thirty-fourth Street he had to stand aside while a marching club went by, a score or two of young fellows, walking one behind the other, each with his hands on the shoulders of the man before him, and all keeping step to the staccato cry, ““ We—we—we got ’m—now!” monotonously reiterated until the leader gave a sudden signal, and then they all responded with a sky-rocket cheer, which died down with individual and fantastic yells. Adams’s studio was on the top floor of a large building on a corner of Broadway. The elevator-boy told Sartain at which door to knock, and when he came opposite to it he heard the boisterous laughter of the twins. His shy- ness returned instantly. Of*late he had hoped that he was overcoming it, and even outgrowing it, but in the presence of Mr. Vivian’s robust daughters it always re- curred. Now it was only the fact that he had accepted the invitation, combined with the expectation that he would meet Esther, which enabled him to conquer his in- stinctive desire to run away. 4 He had to knock three times before any one heard him, and then it was either Dora or Theo who cried: ‘* Come in! Oh, comg in!” When he had entered he found the whole party gathered around a table in the centre of the room. At one end of this table sat Mr, Vivian, as carefully dressed as ever and as ey but disfigured now by a huge check apron. He had apples, bananas, celery, and lettuce in plates before him. His three daughters, Esther, and Adams were grouped around him, watching his motions, commenting on them, and tendering advice. Adams looked up as Sartain entered. ‘‘ Hsssh!” he cried; ‘‘ don’t say a word. The inventor of the famous ‘Vera Cruz salad’ is now engaged in compounding it. Beware how you distract his attention!” ‘Never mind their foolishness, Sartain,” said Vivian. ** What is the latest news?” ** Come, come,” interrupted the artist; “* business before pleasure! I adjure Sartain not to talk politics until you have finished that salad. Politics is all very fine, but a salad is a serious thing!” Esther was at one end of the table facing Vivian, and Sartin came forward and stood beside her. She greeted him with her radiant smile, and he was happy at once and willing to stand there silently forever. He gazed around at the studio, which he had never before seen lighted up at night. It was a large room, with one immense win- dow on the north side. A screen shut off one corner, and from where Sartain stood he could see that all sorts of odds and ends had been heaped up there out of the way. An easel was drawn against the wall near the window, and on this was a vigorously brushed portrait of Vivian; and as Sartain examined this he envied the art of the painter which could thus set a human being before the spectator with a few strokes, bold and simple. On the wall opposite to Sartain was the painting of ‘‘ Cinderella and the Haughty Sisters,” which had come back from the exhibition unsold. Facing this picture was an upright piano with a lighted lamp on it. Vivian was proceeding steadily with the preparation of his salad. He chopped the celery into little bits; he peeled two or three apples and cut them into little cubes; and he also cut an equal number of little cubes of banana. He decked a broad bow] with the leaves of the lettuce, he mixed the celery, the apple, and the banana together, in the proportion of one-half celery to one-quarter each of apple and banana, and, having mingled them carefully, he heaped them up in the bowl, in the centre of the let- tuce. Then he turned to the preparation of the dressing—a mayonnaise, in which the yolks of hard-boiled eggs, olive oil, white-wine vinegar, salt, mustard, and three kinds of pepper were all artfully proportioned and adroitly com- mingled. At last he finished beating up the thick, golden MATTHEWS liquid, and he poured it cautiously over the ingredients arranged in the broad bowl. “There!” said the operator; ‘‘ there is a salad, if you like! What do you say to that?” *‘T’m not saying a word,” Adams responded. look a friend’s hobby in the mouth. now, and I will show you.” He 7 the salad-bow] on the top of the piano, by the side of the lamp, and cleared away the plates Vivian had used. He went behind the screen, and returned with his chafing-dish and the ingredients for an oyster stew. “Give me that apron,” he said. ‘* Really, store clothes and a boiled shirt are no costume to cliafe in. I ought to have worn my overalls.” Johnny helped her father to take off the apron, and then the twins tied it on Adams. “Um—um,” said Theo, “ don’t those oysters look good?” ‘** They are so plump,” added Dora, ** that it would be rank cannibalism for us to eat them.” ** And I’m just as sure that he’s going to put in butter and crackers and all sorts of fattening things,” Theo con- tinued. **I don’t know how it is,” Dora went on. ‘I had a good dinner, and it isn’t late—and yet the sight of a chaf ing-dish makes me hungry at once!” “The sight of Madams’s cooking will take it away again,” suggested Johnny. ‘**That isn't fair,” cried Adams, as he began to butter a, pan; ‘your little sisters are healthy, hearty girls, and— ‘** Healthy!” interrupted Theo. thing!” “ Hearty!” Dora ejaculated. sult us by saying that.” ** Just because we are not as thin as Esther, you treat us as if—as if we were pin-cushions,” Theo declared. **And Esther has an excellent appetite—haven't you?” Dora asserted. ‘ You should have seen her eat when she was in Paris.” “Oh, Dora,” protested Esther, “ you make me feel as if I had been a boa-constrictor.” ** Yes,” Theo declared, gravely; ‘if Lcould have things to eat every day like those we had in Paris, I don’t think I should want to die.” ‘**Bah!” Adams interjected, having lighted the lamp under the chafing-dish. ‘* You don’t want to die now, do you?” ‘*Don’t we?” Dora responded, promptly. ‘““Why not?” asked Theo. ‘“*Do you know what we did one night last week? © I had been awake a long while, and I felt sure Dora was awake too. Sol asked her what she was doing, and she had a grand scheme—” ‘**IT was thinking about all the people who would send flowers if we were to die,” Dora broke in; “‘ and I told Theo, and she came in my bed, and we found a pencil and a piece of paper. We lighted the gas, and—” ** And we made out a list of everybody*who would send flowers,” Theo interrupted, ‘‘and what they would send. We put you down for a wreath, Madams.” **Quite right,” the artist responded, with unwinking gravity; ‘‘I always send a wreath when I have been in- viled to dinner.” ‘*Do you not think you have given us enough of the death’s head at the feast?’ asked Vivian. ‘ This is not an Egyptian banquet.” Sartain had said nothing. “T never But it is my turn “Oh, you hateful “You've no right to in- He had listened in silent astonishment. The twins were inexplicable to him al- ways. He could not understand their extravagant gayety, their morbid fancies, their liking for personalities, their familiarity, which seemed to him almost underbred. ‘** No,” said Adams, ‘‘ this is not an Egyptian banquet; but it will be a Barmecide feast if this lamp doesn’t burn better. I tell you what it is, girls, you mustn’t ask me to come and chafe your wedding-breakfast for you.” “It is Cinderella who gets married,” Dora retorted, ‘not the Haughty Sisters.” ** It is Cinderella who marries Prince Charming,” added Theo, and then they both laughed. fs Esther tried to turn their attention. ‘‘Cinderella mar- ries the prince, I'll admit,” she said, ‘‘ but don't forget that she found husbands for her sisters—dukes, I think, they were, or counts, or something.” “If I were you, I shouldn’t want a husband somebod else had found,” Johnny suggested; ‘* perhaps the wife who had lost him might offer a reward and get him back.” ‘* All the dukes and counts I hear about nowadays are as poor as crows, and I don’t want to get a husband out of the almshouse,” said Theo. “Neither do I,” Dora continued, the one playing into the other’s hands, as was their custom. ‘I don't mean to marry for money—I wouldn’t do that! But I believe it’s just as easy to fall in love with a rich man as a poor man. Don’t you, Esther?” The girl was taken by surprise at being summoned into the conversation thus unexpectedly. ‘1 don’t believe in pares for money, of course,” she said, at last, ‘‘ al though I suppose it is a good thing that the man you love should have something of his own. But if you love him. what does it matter whether he is rich or poor? It’s the man you are going to live with, for better or for worse: it isn't the money. If you love him, and he loves you, be would do anything for you and you for him. don’t seers to marry any man until I’m ready to black his _¥ “That's all very well,” Johnny answered, “but you wouldn’t have to do that if he were rich enough to wear patent-leathers,” (Continued on page 324.)
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TOLMAN A PRACTICAL M 1 ll, and probably better, than it « URING the past few years Boston has taken some remarkable steps for the promotion of the public well-being through municipal effort. Mayor Quincy believes that the present social conditions demand a broader interpretation of the city’s functions than Americans have been accustomed to in the past. He believes that the city has not dis charged its fall duty to the public when it has provided advanced ground and championing further development of the city’s functions, the present Mayor Quincy is sim- ply pursuing a traditional family policy; for in 1847 his grandfather, Josiah Quincy, Jr., advocated the policy of the radical extension of the city’s functions as then inter- preted, by urging the establishment of a free public library to be supported by the city. The great Boston Public Library, the first free library in America main- ILLUSTRATION OF WHAT A CITY OR TOWN CAN DO TO PROVIDE HEALTHY OUT-DOOR LIFE FOR ITS POOR done by a city of the size of Boston. It furnishes, further, an object-lesson for the thoughtful and philanthropic citizens of any city ny town j imp has proved so successful that it is planned to start next year a municipal camp for girls ould be done by private effort.|—Eviror. ; it has been proved that a municipality can successfully carry out this sail from the wharves of Boston, has been located a well- equipped camp for the accommodation of 150 boys. To this camp Boston invites the boys of the city whose parents are not able to provide them with an outing. Each lot of 150 boys remains in camp for one week ; so, with the present fa- cilities, about twelve hundred of Boston's young citizens may enjoy the hospitality of the camp during the season. The list of the campers is made up through recommenda streets, lighting, water, police and fire protection, and pub- lic schools. Therefore his administration has interpreted the functions of the city of Boston to include provision for public baths, play-grounds for children, public gym nasiums, free lectures and concerts, together with other recreational and educational features, for which Amer- icans have hitherto depended upon private enterprise. HE present Mayor is the third of his line to oceupy the post of Chief Magistrate of Boston. His grandfather and his father served their city with distinction in the office he now holds, and it is interesting to note that, in taking THE BOSTON MUNICIPAL CAMP. Long Island, Boston Harbor. tained by a city, is the monument of the first Mayor Quincy's liberalism in his day and generation. To-day we find his grandson in the van of municipal progress, leading the liberal forces that are striving to still further enlarge the boundaries of municipal activity and make the city government play an ever-increasing part in pro- moting social welfare. * e * NE of the most notable results of the broader munici- pal policy of Boston carried out by the present admin istration is the municipal camp for boys. On one of the islands in Boston Harbor owned by the city, a half-hour’s tions made by school-teachers, ministers,superintendents of boys’ clubs, various charitable associations, and by others who know the boys in their homes. Careful inquiry in each case makes it sure that only those who really need the bounty of the city enjoy it. HE qualifications for admission, as stated on the regis tration blanks, are simply these: “* Boys recommended must be of good moral character, must never have been indicted for an offence against the laws, and must be in such circumstances that they would be unable to secure a similar outing on their own account.” As might be THE MUSTERING IN OF THE BOYS. New Recruits inspected at the Camp. 1 OUT FOR A DAY'S FUN. More than a Boat's Load.
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HARPER’S BAZAR VIEW OF expected, there is an eager rush for registration, and at the present time there is a long waiting list of boys who are anxious to indulge in camp life. * * * "TH08e who are fortunate enough to fulfil the require- ments and to apply in time assemble on a city wharf on the day indicated, and are conveyed to the camp-ground on the city’s steamer, the J. Putnam Bradlee. They are not required to report with elaborate equipment. hey are asked simply to come “ provided with a comb and an extra shirt for a camp tour; a jacket should also be brought.” Thirty minutes’ sail down beautiful Boston Harbor brings the boys to the island which is to be their home for a week, if, as the regulations enjoin, * they conform strictly to the rules of the camp, avoid quarrels, and abstain from the use of bad language, and in every way conduct themselves as would be expected of young yersons who have become guests of the city.” Long fsland, on which the camp is located, is beautifully situ- ated amid a group of islands which cluster in that por- tion of the harbor, and the camp is placed upon a bigh bluff, which commands a delightful view of sea and sore The boys find awaiting them a group of tents, each hav ing accommodations for nine guests of the city and the aid in charge. They see close at hand a rude but spacious dining-hall and a plain little building, which they later come to know asthe Library. Off-shore they seé anchored the trim sloop which has been chartered by the ve for their service, in which they will later have delightful sails in parties of thirty e ° al PON their arrival, they are received by the superinten- dent of the camp. The headship of a summer camp for the city boy, who often roves the streets at his own sweet will and is impatient of any restraint, is a very im- portant problem, which has been solved successfully in this case by the selection of a West-Pointer—Mr. E. P. Sherburne—also the principal of the Lowell School. The THE CAMP FROM THE ISLAND. at random, we have on Wednesday, for breakfast, oatmeal and milk with bread and coffee; dinner, stewed beef, baked Indian pudding; sup- per, rice and milk, hardtack and cheese. There has been 823 and stimulate him to profitable thought. Mayor Quincy lays much stress upon this side of the work. In his mes- sage of 1898 he says: ‘‘ I agree entirely with the emphasis placed in the report-upon the educational side of the work of such a camp; It should be regarded merely as an exten sion of the system of public education of the young, and as affording an opportunity for giving a different kind of instruction and training—but one no less valuable, perhaps —from that which is given in the school-room. An or ganized course of summer instruction and training, both mental and physical, given to 500 boys at a time, even though each remained in the camp for only one week, could, it seems to me, be made both interesting and valu- able; and the novelty of the conditions of life and the freshness of many of the ideas which would be suggested would certainly prove stimulating to growing minds.” The cost of the camp has been held down to a very low figure. The latest figures obtainable are those for 1898, the first year of the camp. The city council appropriated $2500 for the experiment. Of this amount $1000 was ex- pended for equipment, and $1500 for maintenance. Dur- ing the seven weeks in which the camp was open, 831 some criticism of the diet- ary of the camp, but care- ful investigation shows that the food at thecampis much better in every respect than that which most of the boys have at home. It is well chosen, well cooked, and supplied in abundance. > * * HE regular number of campers this year is 150, detachments of seventy- five boys going down twice a week. By that means there is a force at work constantly that as- similates the new-comers, who readily adopt the ways of the camp. In @ summer camp a large place is naturally made for athletic sports. A running-track, eight laps to the mile, and a base- ball-ground are among the more popular features of the camp The _ sports are conducted under the direction of the aids, so that the largest possible amount of sound physical training may be gotten out of them. Some of the aids are expert swimmers, and give daily lessons to the boys. The Bath Commission of Boston co-operates in this work by supplying the suits and laundering them. * * - ONE OF superintendent is assisted by a corps of aids, most of whom are college students. The honorarium of the aids, temdollars a month,.is not sufficient, te attract those who are not deeply interested in boys for their own sake. Each aid is responsible fot. the block of boys in his charge, and sleeps in the same tent with them. . * * HE superintendent immediately proceeds to instruct the boys in the camp routine. At 6 a.M. there is reveille, at 6.30, roll-call and drill; at 6.55, salute to the colors; 7.15, breakfast—a function that is discharged with great ardor. Police duty and inspection of quarters follow breakfast. At 9.30, guard-mount, and then the boys are free until dinner. At 12.15 p.m., dinner; at 1.15, guard- mount ageing and then, until 5.30, recreation and lectures. Six o’clock brings supper, eagerly welcomed, and then follows the flag salute at sunset. At8 p.M., camp-fire talks are scheduled. The boys are quite ready for taps at 9.30 PM «*e © youngsters’ View-point the commissary depart. .ig.one of the most_important. The normal yx is always Hungry, but especially-is:this the case when his appetit sharpened by. the ocean breezes and plenty of healthfe pore ig It makes.no difference to him that the dini has its walls rough-finished and*that the table is liont cloth. - He is ravenously rag is interested Chiefly in good footand ptenty of it: food is plain, but well cooked. Selecting the menu for the day THE TENT DORMITORIES. UT, although Pe training is made prom- inent, mental training is by no means neglected. The visitor observes a small rude building’ with the word ‘ Library” painted in large letters on the door. If he enters he finds a gen- erous supply of books, just such af boys like. There are dlso magazines and the daily papers. In the after- noon, when the boy is tired of athletic sports or left out of a sailing party, the library claims his attention. One of the aids assists the boys in the selection of books, and guides them in their reading. Another important fea- ture of the educational work of the camp is the series of informal talks. Frequently in the after- noon the bugle blows as- sembly, and the boys gath- er in the dining-room to listen to a talk on some sub- ject that appeals directly to their boyish interest. The topics are varied and the presentation is simple. Perhaps Commissioner Marshall gives a talk on astronomy, and the boys gaze tthe heavens that night with an interest quite new to them. On the next afternoon a traveller rom India sketches the mode of life in that faraway re- gion. Simple lectures on plant and animal life, the phe- nomena of the ocean which surrounds them, instruction in sanitation, the care of the body, and other topics of practical character add to the boy’s store of information, THE DINING-HALL boys received its benefits, so the weekly per capita cost of maintenance was only $1 83 * . . LARGE measure of the success of the camp, education- ally and financially, has been due to the broad policy of the director, Mr. E. C. Marshall, in carrying out Mayor Quincy’s plans. The camp is usually spoken of as an experiment, but I have a feeling that it is no longer an experiment station, but an application station. With this fact in mind, I was desirous of securing from Director Marshall his own opinion regarding the mission of the camp. Under date of August 5, 1899, he writes: “I believe that this movement is the inception of a grand idea in municipal life, and I see before it great possi- bilities. It is to the younger generations that we must look for reform in social conditions in the future. It is impossible to change social conditions for the older peo ple of the community; but it is possible, by starting with the younger ones, to bring about a much-needed reform in them. It may be thought by some that the results achieved are too small to have any effect on the com- munity; but I believe from this camp radiates a force much stronger, much more full of life, than these peo- ple imagine, and I look forward confidently to the day when municipalities will arrange outings that will accom- modate all of the children of the city that would other- wise be unprovided for.” * e ~ HE unique significance of this first municipal recre- ational camp in America is brought out by a quotation from a report of Dr. Frederic W. Speirs, of the League for Social Service, who recently visited the camp. He says: ‘‘One feature of the camp which impressed me most strongly was the fact that the boys who are in camp at Long Island are not the recipients of charity. As citizens of Boston they are on their own property, enjoying recreational and educational privileges pro- vided by the wise liberality of a community in which they are prospective sovereigns. They are enjoying by right opportunities for physical and mental development which they, as future voters of Boston, will extend to their needy successors. And no one who has visited the camp can doubt that the sojourn of these boys on Long Island as guests of their city has an appreciable influence in moulding them into good citizens of the old Puritan common wealth.” A DAY. OF FIELD SPORT. > : 4
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ead nk etn I a, i ate 824 Continued from page 821.) I like to hear you girls talking about marriage and giving in marriage,” Adams asserted, ‘just as if there were pot more serious things in the world than falling in love. We men don't keep on talking about getting mar- ried Do we, Sartain?”’ Thus suddenly addressed, Sartain could only stammer, I I I don't know.” Well, I don't know about you, either, if it comes to that,” Adams answered. as he began to drop the oysters into the chafing-dish. ‘‘ Maybe some invisible spinster in New England has your affections on cold storage, for all [ know. But here in New York I've never seen you go i-girling. Of course you may have half a dozen co-flirts l've never suspected ; Sartain tugged at the point of his beard and wished that he was quick-witted. He would have liked to turn the tables on Adams sharply, and to get the laugh on him by some unexpected repartee. To do this in the presence of Esther would be doubly gratifying. But he could find nothing at all worthy of the occasion. He thought of re torting that Adams judged others by himself, but this seemed to him unspeakably cheap. And in the end all he said was, ‘‘I shall not condescend to make any defence igainst such a charge from such a source.” Che sound of an approaching brass-band became audi- ile above the chatter of conversation and the rattle in the streets below. Adams was left alone at the table while the rest of the party flocked over to the broad window. A campaign club was marching down Broadway from its own rooms to the headquarters of the party organiza- tion in Twenty-third Street. There were a hundred men walking four abreast, with flags, transparencies, and pop ping Roman candles. They kept cheering and shrieking, ind as they went down the street the crowds on the side walks joined in the cheers with hearty good-humor What was the last report as you came by?” Vivian inquired of Sartain I'he returns show that we have carried the city by inywhere from ten to forty thousand,” the young man inswere d Father will be so glad of that,” Esther declared. He's coming for me. But he was too restless to stay, und he said he'd go down to Madison Square and get the latest news As the procession passed on out of sight and out of hearing the twins went back to the table. Mr. Vivian had remained at the window with his eldest daughter and Isther. So had Sartain, who was trying to find some means of separating the girl he loved from the other two, and of having her all to himself for a little chat. But be- fore he had devised a scheme to accomplish this, Vivian had expressed to Esther his belief that her father would make a most effective portrait, and in a moment more he had led her away to examine his own picture on the easel, and thence across the room to the Cinderella Johnny and Sartain were left sitting side by side on the broad lounge before the window. The girl gave him a quizzical look You weren't quick enough,” she said. ‘* Papa cut in before you Sartain marvelled that she had read his thought thus plainly, and he wondered whether she had discovered with equal perspicuity her father’s affection for Esther. “ Yes,” he began, ‘‘ I did want to have a chat with her You see, it’s six months now and mere since I've hardly had a chance to talk to her—all to myself ba ‘And do you want to talk to her all to yourself just as much as you did six months ago?” Johnny asked, looking him full in the face ‘More,” he answered, simply—‘‘much more. You see, I love her now more than I did then—although thea I didn’t think I could do that.” Oh!” said Johnny, sharply. ‘‘ You love her more now than ever—and you come and tell me that?” ‘I must tell somebody!” he returned Johnny sat silent for a moment, her foot impatiently tapping the floor I can’t imagine what all you,men see in Esther Dircks that’s so very attractive,” she said, at last. ‘‘Of course she’s a nice girl, and a sweet, good girl, and all that—and I love her dearly myself. But you men, you seem to ulore her—you and Madams and my fa—” Then she broke off suddenly, and Sartain knew that she had detected the secret that her father had not dis covered even yet ‘It's about time for Madams to propose to her again,” continued Johnny. ‘‘ What is there about Esther that’s so strangely fascinating, I'd like to know?” ‘How can I tell you?” Sartain answered ‘It’s her self that is her chief charm, I suppose—her own exquisite personality And then she looks so fragile, so ethereal—” ‘She looks frail enough—just as if she hadn’t a bone in her body,” Johnny interrupted; ‘‘in fact, 1 used to call ber Miss Cartilage—but for all that she isn’t to be blown away by a breeze. She has a healthy appetite, Esther has, and she likes clothes, just as other girls do, and she takes mighty good care of that delicate complex ion of hers, and she’s miserable if she gets sunburnt ever so little. She isn't so very different from the rest of us, I assure you. She knows that her right profile is better than the left; and you just see her now as she’s talking to papa—she always turns the best side to a man.” Sartain looked at her in dumfounded astonishment He could not understand why Johnny should indulge in this outbreak. He could not guess why she should thus attack the girl she had just pretended to love. He was so taken by surprise that he said nothing; and Johnny was able to regain her equanimity ‘I suppose you wonder why I'm telling you all these things?” she asked, with a softening of her voice. Then she laughed lightly. He was looking at Esther as she stood by the side of Vivian at the other end of the room. Her head was turned from side to side gracefully as she discussed the picture; then a wisp of her light-gold hair came down over her eyes, and she raised her hand to thrust it into its place—a gesture that always moved Sar tain like a beautiful passage of music Yes," he responded, ‘I confess I do not perceive your motives.’ My motives?” she repeated, rather scornfully. ‘‘ Oh well, my motives will have to take care of themselves—if I have any. What I wanted to do was to bring you down from the skies and make you put your feet on the solid earth. It’s here you've got to live, for a little HARPER’S BAZAR while, anyway, and not in heaven; and that’s why it’s a good thing Esther’s not an angel, but just a woman—a woman like the rest of us, with her fine points of charac- ter, and her defects, too.” “I see what you mean,” Sartain returned, mollified by her change of tone. ‘“ You think that I idealize her too much.” ‘If I were you, I wouldn’t idealize her at all,” she re- torted. ‘‘She’s a human being, you see—just as I am. She had a father and a mother—just as you had. She's a woman, with all the failings of a woman—even if she has more than her share of a woman's fascination.” **She is a woman of a thousand,” Surtain declared. ** Ob, I'll say she’s a woman of a million if you like,” returned Johnny. ‘All the same, she is a woman, and not a fairy or a nymph or an angel. And if you idealize her too much, it isn’t good for either of you, because you are certain to find her out sooner or later. It isn’t good for her especially—that is, if you are ever to marry her.” “If Lever marry her!” the young man echoed. ‘‘ How can I really hope that she will ever marry me?” ‘*There you go idealizing her again,” was the instant response, ‘‘ Other girls get married now and then—why not Esther Dircks?” ** But why should she ever care for me?” he asked, hoping for encouragement. **T don’t know, I’m sure,” Johnny answered, calmly. “Who am I that she should ever take a fancy to me?” pursued Sartain. ‘I'm not rich; I'm not handsome; I’m not famous. What have I got to offer her?” ** Yourself,” was the swiftreply. ‘* That’s all that any man can offer, and it’s enough for any girl.” ** Oh, Miss Johnny!” ejaculated Sartain. ‘**IT mean what I say,” the young woman responded. ‘*I’m no hypocrite. I don’t know whether it’s hypocrisy that makes men pretend that they are not as good as girls are, or whether it's misplaced modesty, or what it is; but it’s nonsense, whatever it is—just nonsense! I've no pa- tience with such hollow pretence!” Sartain listened to this iconoclastic declaration, wonder- ing why it was that one woman liked to run down an- other, and thinking how acutely Thackeray had been able to reproduce this feminine characteristic. **] wish I could think myself good enough for Miss Esther,” he said, at last. **Oh, you are incorrigible,” cried Johnny, rising to her feet, ‘‘ You go over to her now, and you'll see that she won't forgive you for having this contidential chat with me.” Sartain stood up. He wanted to repel this insinuation against Esther. But Johnny had left him and joined her sisters at the table, where Adams had just completed half a dozen Welsh rabbits. At the call of the host, Vivian escorted Esther to the table. Sartain could not but remark that his manner tow ards the girl was caressing and yet not in any way offensive. Esther stood by the side of Johnny, while Sartain went to get chairs for them. It surprised him a little to see that they had their arms about each other's waists. When they were seated there was no place for him save at the other end of the table between the twins. They tasted Adams’s oysters and his Welsh rabbits, they devoured Vivian’s Vera Cruz salad, and they drank beer in the pewter mugs that the artist had picked up in Holland. bey all talked at once. Sartain alone said little, and it seemed to him that Es- ther was treating him with unusual coldness. Generally she was affable and friendly, but at this supper she was chilly and almost haughty. He could not imagine what he might have done to offend her. He was the more grieved at this change of attitude on her part as it was accompanied by a display of greater cordiality towards Adams _ As the supper progressed Sartain sank into a moody dissatisfaction with himself, and, indeed, with ev- erybody except her. He took no notice of the magpie chatter of the twins, and he was hardly conscious when Johnny left the table, sat down at the piano, and played the accompaniment for the latest negro melody, which her sisters sang with full appreciation of its exotic humor. Vhen this had come to an end, Dora turned to the ab- sorbed lover and said, ‘‘ You sing us something now, Mr. Sartain.” **That’s so,” Theo added. ‘Sing us that love song— the Arab one, you know. That was splendid!” ‘Don’t urge Mr. Sartain to sing just after eating,” said Johnny. ** But he didn’t eat anything at all,” Theo retorted. *‘And Esther bas never heard him sing that song,” Dora declared, ‘* Have you, Esther?” Esther acknowledged that she had not heard it, as she had never been present on any of the occasions when Mr. Sartain had sung it. Johnny rose from the piano and closed the cover on the keys. Theo instantly took her place. “I know the accompa- niment,” she cried, as she began. ** Now, Mr. Sartain,” Dora urged. Sartain looked at Esther, to see if she really wanted to hear him; but she was talking to Mr. Vivian, almost osten- tatiously. Then he decided to sing. He was aware that he had a good voice, uncultivated though it was; and he believed that the Bedouin song was well within its compass. He recalled the words hastily as he took his place beside the piano, and he was pleased at the way in which they ex- pressed his own emotions. He did not think that the Arab lover was more devoted to the object of his affec- tion than he was to Esther; and he had a vague hope she might guess perhaps that he was giving utterance to his own feelings also, ** Are you ready?” asked the girl at the piano. ‘‘ Then go ahead.” The Orientalism of the first stanza made the song im- personal, as he sang it; and yet he did not dare to look at Esther. As he reached the refrain, with its promise of eternal adoration, his eyes happened to fall on Johnny, who was sitting back in an easy-chair in a constrained at titude, as though gripping its arms. Her gaze was fixed; and when Sartain involuntarily followed its direction he discovered that she was staring intently at Esther, whose head was turned away. In singing the second stanza Sartain sympathized fully with the yearning of the lover, and he knew he had never before put so much feeling into his delivery: “Look from thy window and see My passion and my pain; I lie on the sands below, And I faint iw thy disdain Let the night-winds touch thy brow With the heat of my burning sigh, And melt thee to hear the vow Of a love that shail not die “ Till the sun grows cold, And the stare are oid, And the leaves of the Judgment Book unfold I” When the rich barytone notes died away there was a round of applause. Sartain looked at Esther. She sat still on the lounge, with her head averted, making no sign of approval. Then Johnny rage to her feet and went over to the win dow. “ This room is positively stifling!” she said. ‘* Can't we have some air?” Five minutes later there came a knock at the door, and Dircks arrived to take his daughter home, whereupon the party broke up. When Sartain bade Esther good-night he suw that her eyes were singularly bright, and that there was more color on her cheek than usual. [TO BE CONTINUED. } AN INVALID’S FLOWER the invalid’s flower, because of the charm which it gives any one to watch it grow and care for it, and because this care is possible for many persons who are confined to the house, or who may be obliged to lead To beautiful night-blooming cereus is often called some sort of sedentary in-door existence. Every one knows that each blossom blooms only once for one night, and only in the night. The accompanying picture is of a plant which had two blossoms that appeared on the same night. Copyright by Allan Ayrault Green, September §, 1699. NIGHT-BLOOMING CEREUS.
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HARPER’S BAZAR THE “KITCHEN-GARDEN” SOME OF THE FAR-KEACHING RESULTS IN HEALTH, IN CAPACITY FOR WORK, IN THE LIFE OF PRODUCED BY TEACHING HOUSEKEEPING HE home has been aptly called the ‘rallying - point” for the forces which control social and civic life; it is the centre of every circle of so- ciety, whether the plane be a or low; here is found the power which ¢ terminés the physical, mental, and ethical standing of the community. From those homes in which high standards of living are the rule there radiate forces which work for the elevation of humanity in every direc- tion, and from the unnumbered habitations ‘‘where love is not and knowledge has never entered” there extends a degrading in- fluence equally strong. There the hand that fries the beefsteak is the hand that rules the world. And, alas! it is such a little hand! There the mothers are too over- burdened, indifferent, or wilful to learn of methods by which their home life may be im- proved; it is the children who must be reach- ed and to whom knowledge and hope must be given. TH kitchen-garden teaches that each act of the individual affects the immediate family, that the family exercises an influence upon the neighborhood, the neighborhood upon the town, and so on, and that it is of importance in what spirit the very least share of the world’s work is performed. Work in itself is not distasteful even to lit- tle people; it is only when it is imposed by unjust conditions and undertaken in an un- willing spirit that it gains a bad reputation. When one's horizon is bounded by the rim of the wash-tub or by the wall of the tene- ment-court, one surely has not a broad or in- spiring view of life * * * * * * HE kitchen-garden discloses an industrial sphere where labor— domestic labor at least —is robbed of half its terrors by the pleasing presentation of the household arts. An apt rhyme or merry song repeated in connection with a certain duty has the effect of martial music on the eve of battle; under its inspiring rhythm the citadel of dirt is stormed, the meal prepared, or the dishes washed. The performance of the task, so long a deadening, mechanical repetition, ac tually begins to have a quickening influence upon the mind. When the high purpose of work, its beauty, and its usefulness are re- vealed, self-respect is kindled in the worker; he and his occupation alike take on new dignity. * ° * HE kitchen-garden teaches further that it is not what one does but how he does it that is of importance. As Mr. Thackeray quaintly expressed it, ‘‘Whatever you are, be a good one.” This idea is emphasized in a kitchen-garden story that points an effec- tive moral, and is a favorite among the chil- dren. The title is: How Mary Helped in the Lumber-Camp. This is an astonishing title when we discover that the lumber -camp wis located in Wisconsin, and that Mary had never been off Long Island. The story, briefly outlined, explains first that lumber- men must live largely upon canned goods, and that these are procured by a succession of orders which call upon a variety of in- dustries. Then follows a description of the commission house, of the lines of transporta- tion, of the canning factory, etc., until the farmer, the original producer, is reached Interest now centres in a particular farmer known as Mary’s father, whe, in a certain season, received a large order for coru, pease, and beans from the canning factory. It tran- spires that Mary’s father, having lost his wife, had been forced to live in an unsani tary boarding - house, and had in conse- quence suffered in health. Mary, having meantime been sent to a kitchen - garden and cooking-school, now professes to be able to keep house for her father in a small tene- ment. The experiment being tried, under Mary's care, her father becomes well and strong, and able to till his fields, and to fill the order from the canning factory. So it appears that Mary’s contribution of work in this industrial sequence is most important of all—the corner-stone of the whole indus- trial structure. It may be farther supposed that some of the lumber felled by the very men who ate of her father’s corn, pease, and beans will finally make its way into Mary’s kitchen in the form of a table. At this table she may stand in future when she prepares food by which her father gains strength enough to earn still more material upon which she is to exercise her culinary skill So ure traced the circles upon circles of inter- dependent industries, in House-that- Jack-built style: Mary was the maid thet rose in the morn And cooked for her father who raised the corn That was basked and packed in the shining can That was carried at last to the lamberman, Not only are the farmer and the lumber- man dependent upon some “ Mary,” but the doctor, the lawyer; even the minister is at her mercy, and lacks inspiration for his work if her biscuits are like bullets, and if pork TOWN CHILDREN AND COOKING AND CITIES WHICH CAN BE THE PRINCIPLES OF THIS SYSTEM displaces beef and eggs upon her bill of fare; the vision of the painter is dimmed and the physician’s hand unnerved if the one who supplies their household wauts is not equal- ly an artist in her realm. * ” ” HEN the morning talk runs in this vein the teacher sees the eyes before her brighten with a responsive smile, and the little bent shoulders straighten with new- born self-respect. It is a thought that brings hope and ambition with it, that somebody notices the heavy tasks, and that they really count, that there is a world where thanks and uot blows are the reward. * LIEN the little workers see the relation which their work bears to other trades cessary link in the great industrial chain, when ‘‘ why” and ‘* because” take the place of **must” in the domestic vocabulary, the attitude toward the task is changed. The theory of the “ nobility of labor” is old but is one of the means by which it may be made universal. Once it is understood that one who ministers to the body ministers alike to the soul, the worker in the home will recog- nize her high calling; the steam from the kettle wherein cooks father’s dinner will be- come incense arising from the altar of do- mestic devotion; the rays which glisten from the rim of the well-burnished dish-pan will illumine the workaday world and shed a radiance far beyond. * * . SECOND illustration will further set forth the objects of the kitchen-garden. It is easy to see that in the construction of a house it is of advantage to select the site with care that the surroundings may be san- itary and the outlook pleasant. When this is done, equal care should be used in select- ing materials of good quality for building the house, and again these materials must be put together by couscieutious and efficieut workmen. Apvice TO MotueKs.—Mxs. WINSLOW’'s SOOTHING Syxur should always be used for children teething, It soothes the child, softens the gums, allays all pain. berg Py - colic, and is the best remedy for diarrhaa. —(Adv. THE TEETHING PERIOD Is the trying time in baby’s life. Proper feeding then is most essential. To secure uniformity of diet use Gail Borden Eagle Brand Condensed Milk. Book, “ Babies,” free. Borden’s Condensed Milk Co., N. Y.—{Adv.] ADVERTISEMENTS. Waiter Baker & Co.’s BREAKFAST COCOA. A Perfect Food. Pure, Nutritious, Delicious. WALTER BAKER & CO. Ltd. Established 1780. _ DORCHESTER, MASS. HERE is another house of flesh and blood wherein dwell mind and soul. equally important, for the sights which may be seen through its windows have their influence upon thought and action; the materials which go to build it up should like- wise be pure and strenghtening and skil fully prepared; a child can draw the infer- ence. When proper care and provisions for this house fail, illness and disability will most surely follow. Each year working- men every where lose a large number of days on account of illness—a loss which could in large measure be prevented by intelligent living. . S a means for making healthful, helpful * * and professions, and realize that it is a ne- | A living a matter of course the kitchen- garden is of no inconsiderable importance. It promises no flowery bed of ease; as in all occupations, each worker must face many relentless tasks, but it makes life tolerable and often pleasurable to many who would otherwise toil without hope. It is a help in placing domestic labor in its proper light, in making knowledge concefning it available and attractive, and in teaching personal re- sponsibility in the discharge of household duties. In this capacity the kitchen garden | contributes its services to the industrial the practice is new, and the kitchen-garden | world, Annie Prescott BuLL. along without it, after using nearly all other brands of food and milk, all of them disagreeing with my baby. It is the best food for children I have ever tried. My baby has not been sick a day since I began using Mellin’s Food a year ago. When I began using it the baby was sick all the time and did not look as if he could live, but he began to im- prove at once on Mellin’s Food. Now he is the healthiest, strongest baby in town. Mrs. R. H. Folmar, Luverne, Ala. Mellin’s Food and FRESH MILK; not dried milk, weeks, months or years old; nor condensed milk that has been in a tin for nobody knows how long; but good FRESH milk; this is the proper thing to give a baby. Mellin’s Food modifies the milk and makes it like mother’s milk. ¢ Babies grow strong and rosy on Mellin’s Food and FRESH milk. Send us a postal for a free sample of Mellin’s Food. Mellin’s Food Company Boston, Mass. | ee | MAUDE ADAMS A 1 A containing sixteen drawings of Miss MAUDE ADAMS in char- acter, will be sent post- paid to any address, to- gether with a handsome new catalogue in color, containing de scfiption of new fall bopks, beautifully illus- trated by Gibson, Rem- J ington, Wenzell, Abbey, Nicholson, Kemble,and others,on receipt 25 cts. ccliadll ou za on receipt of ten cents. [ Enameline is, labor-saving, brilliant in effect, no dust and noodor. It makes a rusty old stove look as good as new in a minute. paste, cake or liquid form. J. L. PRESCOTT & CO., New York. rR Bi RVSSBeE SL VERY BEST GREEN ——e-. eee aes at | for the ealthy Connoisseur. 1.00 for | SAPAN TEA ste4,7e0.00. J. Tocenan” i. thoroughly revised be sen b i] eS PORTRAIT 2iares is the Modern Stove Polish, which means S West 29th Street, NEW YORK | IARPER’S and classified, will CATALOGU le UP-TO-DATE; that Put up in The sur- | roundings amid which it is placed are | printed | Hall’s HairRenewer | Restores color to faded or gray hair. Makes hair grow; stops falling of the hair. Cures dandruff; prevents baldness. If your druggist cannot supply you, send $1.00 to RP. Hall & Co., Res N. H. Does NoT | BEND Vegetable Sicilian UPER GUARDED NICKEL PLATE COIL THE CLINTON SAFETY PIN Not Cheapest, but BEST Fasteus on either side; is a automatic Super nickel - ph doesn’t turu brassy. Made in from % inch to 4% inche } in nickel, black enamel, gold, and silver A Perfect Guard Prevents Clothing Catching in Coil. Send six cents in stamps Clinton Safety Pins (assorted sizes) and a card of our new Sovran Dress Pins. They will demonstrate the inferiority of their imitations. CO., Waterbury, Conn. Imost for 12 OAKVILLE “4 Uttle higher in price, perhaps, than worthless substitutes, but a reason for it.” Removes al! odor of per. ation. Delightful after Shaving. receipt of 25c. Get Mennen s | 0 nal. euwen Co., Newark, N.J | | } » and all | affiictions of the skin. | ~ i | ‘Cut Tissue-Paper Patterns beginning with the issue of December 31,1898, will be furnished at the uniferm price of COMPLETE COSTUME, 50 Cents REDINGOTE, - - - 35 “* _GIRL’S COSTUME, - - 50 “ | WAIST, withsieeve, - - - 25 * f‘eiec mw me eo son 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. ial Special Garments are furnished at spe | prices, as mentioned in accompanying list. ’ : | Jn 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 1599 Please send me pattern, standard size | vertised, published in HARPER'S BAZAR, of as ad | | | Dear Sirs,— | WAIST, No. | SKIRT, No. COSTUME, No. | GIRL’S COSTUME, No. for which I enclose cents, NG ih i adelgnnssi Address ae Cut Pattern Fashions in this Number: Nos. 206 and 1021, on page Si9. Address HARPER & BROTHERS, Publishers
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TOYTOWN TOPICS THE SOCIETY ORGAN HE Home Guards, the crack regiment of Toy town, gave its regular inspection drill in its nursery —I should say armory —last Thursday afternoon. The regiment was reviewed by In- spector-General Papa, assisted by Major Grand mother and Colonel Mamma. This organization displays 1 wonderful lack of uniformity as to dress and height. “I’ve been awful busy,” said Admiral Shootington, with an important little air. ‘‘ Yer see, the Captain asked me to help him run the ship. Of course I had to oblige him.” “Indeed?” saidI. ‘* What were your special duties?” ** Well,” he replied, “‘sometimes I'd go up on the bridge and help him there.” THE HOME GUARDS ON PARADE The inspector- general himself made this criticism, but wided that, after all, ‘‘a true Home Guardsman is born, not made Colone! Mamma, his chief of staff, laughed, and said thut as she was the recruiting officer, she supposed she was to blame for that lack of uniformity in height, but that she was afraid that twins would offer the only solu tion. To which General Papa retorted, ‘‘ Heaven forbid, Julia!” Quite an extended parade preceded the inspec tion drill. The line of march was as follows: Back evtry to kitchen, to dining-room, to front hall; up the stairs to second hall, to mother’s room, to armory A striking feature of the; parade was the splendid work of the band. It is not a large band, but we bave never heard the drum more effectively used, nor a more stirring and ear-splitting mavipulation of that popular instrument, the vox humana A little incident occurred during inspection which was not down on the programme. When the order of ‘‘ shoul der arms” was given, Company A accidentally hit the band on the bead with his musket, which immediately produced a few sudden discords in the sweet strains of the former, followed by a deluge of salt tears. On inspector-general remarking that soldiers never cry, the impromptu concert by the band ended in a few gulps and heaves, and order once more reigned In the midst of the manual of arms, Captain Bridget of the commissary department arrived upon the scene with a big dish of peaches and cream, and the Home Guards incontinently broke ranks and made a bold charge on the rallons . . * THE ARRIVAL OF “ADMIRAL” SHOOTINGTON MET Admiral Tom Shootington on his arrival from foreign parts yesterday. He was accompanied by his mother, and judging by the number of fellow-passengers who came up to bid him farewell, as the steamer tied fast to the dock, he must have made himself very popular ‘I've had a bully time!” he confided to me as we stood together on the hurricane-deck Were you seasick?” | asked The Admiral sniffed indignantly ‘Naw!” he said. But there was lots and lots o’ people that was,” he went on, with a retrospective grin on his sunburned counten ance ‘It was jes after we'd left Queenstown, and I[ was walking up and down with the Captain. The waves was gettin’ bigger and biggerer. There was a tall Eng- lishman with his trousers turned up and a eye-glass in his eye. He was jes paradin’ up and down, and lookin’ mighty important, After a while he got kinder white lookin’, and I thought he was goin’ to cry. I spoke to the Captain about him, and he laughed. ‘He doesn’t feel like erying,’ he said. ‘He jes wishes he was dead, that’s all! All of a sudden the Englishman ran for the front door—lI forget what you call it on a boat. There was a steamer chair in the way, with a lady lying in it. But the Englishman was in such a hurry he couldn't stop to go around, and so he jes jumped over. He didu’t come up on deck again for three days ** There's lots o° interesting things on a steamer,” the Admiral continued. “ There’s so many meals, for one thing. First, there’s breakfast at eight, then bouillon on deck at eleven, then regular lunch at one. At about four o'clock there's nice sandwiches. Then comes dinner at seven o'clock, and jes afore you go to bed you have a little supper. Most o' the people was eatin’ all the time —or else they wasn't eatin’ anything at all. In what way?” I asked. ‘Why, I'd advise him—that’s all. F’ instance, he'd say, ‘ Admiral, it looks like.a storm comin’ up to east’ard. What do you think?’ Then I'd take his telescope and look through it at the sky, and say, ‘ You are quite right, Captain ; it is going to storm, I think.’ Then the Captain will call out to one of his men, ‘ The Admiral thinks we are going to have a storm, and you'll better look to the hatchways.’ The sailor would touch his cap and say, ‘ Ay, ay, sir,’ only he would always grin so, as though he thought it nothing but fun. But the Captain was per fectly serious, and so was I. ‘Sometimes when the Captain saw a sail he would call ————— THE ADMIRAL WAS STANDING ON THE HURRICANE DECK. my attention to it, and ask me what kind of a boat it was We was always on the lookout for pirates—the Captain and I. You can’t be too careful, yer know, when you've got a big ship full of people to look out for. “When I wasn’t on the bridge I had to look out for the ladies oti the deck. The Captain asked me to go around every morning and ask ‘em how they felt and if they wanied anything. Most generally they’d answer, ‘ Yes, my dear, I want a kiss.’ That's what the Captain called ‘firing a salute to beauty.’ 1] didn’t like it much, but then the first thing for an OF TOYTOWN,IN THE COUNTY OF MAKEBELIEVE officer to do, the Captain says, is to be polite to ladies. There was one girl, though, l didn’t mind kissing. She was lovely. Her name was Edna—I forget her last name. She called me her little sweetheart. Her big sweetheart jes met her on the dock. Coming ’cross she was all the time havin’ me talk with her, and we used to walk up and down lots and lots. But jes as soon as she saw her big sweetheart she forgot me, and went off with him 'thout kissing me good-by.” The tears glistened in the little Admiral’s eyes, but he brushed them away with angry disdain. ** Funny how girls forget fellows, isn’t it?” he said. On the way up town we passed the Dewey Arch at Twenty-fourth Street. “Isn't that beautiful!” cried Tom. ‘‘It must be glori- ous to be a great Admiral like Dewey. I'm only a little one, and not a real one, either. I wanted to be a real sailor when I grew up, but mother says I’m all she’s got, and she can’t spare me to go to sea, so I told her I wouldn't leave her.” ** My dear boy,” I said, earnestly, ‘' it isn’t the arch that mukes the hero. Besides, there are two kinds of heroes; the kind that win great victories over other men, and the kind that win great victories over themselves; and, any- way, it’s just as fine to please your mother as it is to please a nation, even if they don’t build arches to you.” _ “That's just what mother said,” cried Admiral Shoot- ington. * ° * HOW TOMMY FELT It was my boy’s sixth birthday, And how proud he was, the lad, Of his pair of tiny breeches, Quite the first he'd ever had! And when he knelt before me To say his evening prayer, I gave him six big kisses And I stroked his dear soft hair. “Oh, tell me, Tommy darling,” Low I whispered in his ear, “Do tell me, are you happy That you're now a man, my dear?” The boy looked straight up at me As he tightly clutched my skirts. ‘Oh, mother,” Tommy answered, “I’m so happy, it—it hurts!” * * * ANIMAL STORIES. L—THE PHILANTHROPIC ROOSTER AND THE WINGLESS CHICKEN N a farm in South Carolina there lives—or did live until a short time ago—a remarkable rooster. He was a most philanthropic and kindly old bird, who de- voted his days to the bringing up of young chickens. As soon as a brood of tiny downy creatures were old enough to stand on their little legs and might venture abroad under the watchful eye of a guardian, they were put in a coop with the old rooster for a few days, so that they might all get well acquainted. Then the fatherly rooster, with his young friends in tow, would start out in search of nice fat worms, which the old fellow would scratch up for the hungry chicks. And woe betide the tempted cat or prowling dog who ventured too near to Mr. Rooster’s protégés! There would be an angry bris- tling of his neck feathers, and the intruder would be nice- ly spurred. And let me tell you it is no fun to be spurred by a rooster! This particular rooster was very broad in his philan- thropy. He did not confine his kindly acts to those of his own species. Sometimes a lot of little ducklings would be put in his charge,in addition to a brood of chicks. And they all got along together like one big happy family during the daytime, but at night the paternal heart of the rooster was often sorely disturbed. The young chickens, of course, roosted high, and with them the rooster. But the ducks, being built on a different plan, were obliged to stick to Mother Earth Mr. Rooster would get nicely settled for the night— half dozing off perhaps—when the young ducks, very much like human babies, would set up a most dismal quacking. Then poor old papa rooster would come hopping to the ground and rustle in among the lonely ducklings, as much as to say: ‘‘I am right here, my dears, so no harm can come to you. Please go to sleep like nice good duckies.” And then, having soothed them back to — ude, their guardian would hop up to his roost again. or by that time the chicks had missed him and were calling him. Some nights the old fellow would be kept hopping back and forth between his divided family for over an hour—until, in fact, it became too dark for him to see his way. Like human parents, he had a good deal to worry him at times. One poor little chick of his wandered too far away from his sheltering wing one day, and found itself in the stable. It began to explore, being of a venture- some disposition, and presently sauntered into a stall oc- cupied bya mule. This fellow, dictated either by hun- ger or a bad temper, put down his head and bit off the poor little chick’s two wings! Strange to relate, but true, nevertheless, this chicken lived to grow up. Of course it was never as other chick- ens, and it had to be very careful about running too fast. It could tear along in a straight line without trouble, but if it turned a corner on the run, over it went. In losing its wings it had lost its equilibrium. The poor thing came to a premature end. One night it fell off the roost and landed exactly on its back. With- out its wings it could not right itself, and the next morn- ing it was dead.
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SEPTEMBER 9, 1899 GOOD FORM Correspondents of the Bazam are requested to send in their questions at least three weeks before the answers are needed. The Bazan basa very large correspondence, and regrets that it cannot answer any letters by mail. Mus M. H.—A bride wears her wedding veil over her face at a church or house wedding until the mar- riage service has been read ; it is then thrown back by the maid of honor, the small part of the veil which falls over the face being beforehand cut up the middle so that the two pieces may be drawn back easily and becomingly. The minister congratulates the married conple immediately after he has read the service, and after the veil has been thrown off the bride's face ; at a home wedding the person who next congretulates the couple is the bride’s mother, then her father, then the groom's parents, and afterwards the members of the two families, the attendants, near relatives, and later every one present. Usually the bride’s mother receives the guests at a home wedding; the father who gives the bride away and is a member of the bridal procession should not be in evidence until be walks with his daughter into the room. After the marriage service is read the bride’s parents stand to- gether near the bride to receive congratulations, and near them should stand the groom's parents, so that they may be introduced to every one and receive con- gratulations too. Whether a woman wears a shirt-waist or a chemi- setie with a tailor suit depends on the style of the cos- tume; if the suit is a skirt and regular silk-lined jacket of course a shirt-waist should be worn ; but with a skirt and tight-fitting boned waist a chemisette is proper. The bride usually wants to give the groom a wedding-present, but it is not obligatory, and she is not expected to give the best man a present; the groom presents him with some reminder of the occa- sion ag a token of his appreciation of his services. F. A. H.—Word the invitations to the afternoon card party which is to be given by two hostesses in the fol- lowing form: Mise Raymond Mrs. John Livingston request the pleasure of Mise ‘s company on Friday afternoon, October the sixth at four o'clock. 15 Pleasant Park. Cards RSV. P. As the entertainment will be given in the house of the unmarried woman, her name should be the first one mentioned on the invitation. Lynetre.—Sometimes the at homes are engraved on one corner of the wedding announcements, sometimes on separate cards which are enclosed with the an- nouncements, and sometimes the at homes are sent by themselves iu separate envelopes after the announce- mente—the last, usually, when the bride does not know at the time of her marriage where her future residence will be, or for any other reason prefers to wait to re- ceive her friends until some time after her wedding. The customary way, however, and the best form, is to enclose separate at-home cards with the announce- ments. A bride should certainly have a day or days for receiving her friends after her marriage, unless there is some very good reason wby she cannot. Texas Gint.—The prettiest bridemaids’ luncheon that I have heard of lately was given by a young wo- man prominent in New York society to the twelve girls who were to attend ber at her wedding. table was round, the centre-piece was a large bow! of maidenhair-ferns, and four tall glass vases filled with pink roses stood at the corners near the middle There was at each cover a place-card shaped and col- ored like a rose petal, and a bonbonniére tied with pink ribbon and ornamented with a spray of artificial pink roses. At each cover, too, was the gift of the bride to her attendants—a pink gauze fan decorated with pink roses, with mother-of- pear] handle, in a pink satin box. Small dishes filled with pink bonbons, peppermints, pink frosted cakes, and almonds stood at intervals on the table. The menu was a banch of grapes tied with a pink ribbon bow; clam bouillon with whipped cream; lobster chops with cucum- bers and sauce tartare; fried chicken with a rich cream sauce, ball potatoes, Lima beans, and grated corn; tomato jelly in a ring with cole-slaw dressed with mayonnaise, crackers and cheese; individual ices in the formes of cakes; bonbons and coffee. You cannot find a better marriage service than the Episcopal, which may, of course, be altered if desired to suit the requirements of another denom- ination, wedding may be varied a lictle by a pretty innovation often seen now—the briaemaids walk up the side aisles and meet the bride half-way down the middle roses, The | The usual order of proceedings at a church | alsle; there the couples divide, half standing on either | side while the bride passes through ; then the girls join again, and in couples walk oehind her to the altar; the ushers walk up the side aisles before the bride- maids, but stop at the altar. The arrangement for standing at the altar is always the same—the groom and best man walk into the church behind the minis- ter and stand at his left, the ushers group themselves on either side, and the bridemaids on either side in front; the maid of honor stands on the minister's right, in front of the other girls. Aw Apminer.—The best form of all is to bave the ice-water pitcher stand on a side table and have the waitress take it from there to fill the glasses when ne- cessary. It should not stand on the dining-table un- less it is obligatory on account of not having a wait- ress. A silver or cut-glass pitcher is correct ; carafes, or water-bottles, are seldom seen at present. Gurt-maker.—A very attractive sofa cushion lately made was of dark red heavy art-satin embroidered in the centre with the coat of arms of the person for whom it was intended. You could not do better than copy this idea. Finish the edges of the cushion with a heavy silk cord, and embroider the coat of arms in heavy bright-colored silk. If you wish to ornament something with a painted coat of arms I would advise & portfolio or a paper pad. T have recently seen some charming articles of this kind made of heavy brown linen ; the coat of arms was »ainted in gold paints. A book-cover on the same idea could be made. You will find an article on poker-work in Bazar of April 24, 1897 (Vol. XXX., No. 17), which will give you the direc- tions you want; but I must warn you that the work is not easy ; it requires skill and experience. HARPER’S BAZAR Should women vote? Well, if they could, They’d vote for what is pure and good; And Ivory Soap, because it’s best, Would simply overwhelm the rest. IVORY SOAP IS 99“, PER CENT. PURE. eOSOSOSORC es COPYRIGHT 1899 BY THE PROCTER & GAMBLE CO. CINCINNATI is a trade expression and means that it is knit so ‘ FULL-FASHIONED ° HOSIERY as to fit the foot and leg like a glove, leaving no seams to annoy nor creases to blister. : ' RARITANIA HOSIERY Scene so-attrbe wont i, snd svtns or than seh hosiery of similar quality. All high-class dealers have it. Not sold at mill. Each package has a label bearing the word “ RARITANIA,”’ of which the heading The name is also on each pair of hose. New Brunswick, N. J. of this advertisement is a facsimile. NORFOLK & NEW BRUNSWICK HOSIERY CO., - SOLD BY FIRST-CLASS DEALERS. HARPER’S CATALOGUE Descriptive list of their publications, with portraits of authors, will be sent free to any address on receipt of (postage) ten cents. | 827 DRESS Correspondents of the Bazan are requested to send in their questions at least three weeks before the answers are needed. The Bazam has a very large correspondence, and regrets that it cannot answer any letters by mail. R. E. B.—In Bazar No. 35, page 736, there is a good skirt pattern for you to follow, and I think you will be best pleased if you trim your skirt with narrow black satin bands. The material is handsome in itsel/, but is a little heavy used without trimming. The waist you must make in jacket or coat effect, or bolero, and in front a small square yoke of lavender lace, or you can have tarned-back revers of duchesse lace, ur you can use a pointed vest of duchesse lace with bows across it to hold the jacket fronts together of laven- der velvet. A smooth black cloth would be the best thing for you to wear with a black velvet waist, This should be made tight-fitting around the hips, witn habit back, trimmed with rows of black satin or with a braided effect. I would not buy too dark biae for a street gown for this young girl, and I should get one of the rough cheviots or camel's-hair and have it made with a coat, Unless she is very slender, you can have a very pretty princesse gown, but if you bave a prin- cesse you should have a smooth cloth, Broadcloth would make a good winter coat. In Bazar Nu page 759, there is an illustration of a good coat, and in the special number that comes out October 7 there will be several coats illustrated. All-white evening gowns of silk, satin, or lace, are the smartest, but there are also some very pretty silk gowns now being made up in the plain-colored smooth silks, trimmed with a fichu edged with lace. You need not alter the coat- tail back of your coat unless it is becoming, in which case you would better cut it over into an Eton jacket. An Apuines.—Tailors are making up cloth gowns with tight-fitting waists, open just a little at the throat, like the old-fashioned riding habits, and the coats are made in a variety of styles, several of which have becu illustrated recently in the Bazar. Some are double- breasted, with straight fronts that hang below the waist-line. The jacket is curved up over the hips, and is shorter in back than in front. The fad is to have black cloth gowns relieved with narrow piping of white cloth or sativ. It is a little conspicuous, but very effective. No, I should not alter the brown silk if you had it made last spring and it fits well. There is not any startling difference in the fashions, and it would be foolish to so soon remodel your gown. The pink silk of which you enclose sample would best be made into a very smart theatre waist. I should not advise your using it for anything else. The sample of net seems to be rather hopeless, unless you use it simply for a waist. If you put it on a gown you will have to line it with chiffon, as well as silk or satin, It would be expensive, and I doubt its making up satisfactorily. Keep it until next spring. Velvets are to be used this year very largely, both in entire gowns and in waists and coats. Your black velvet cape, if it is at all the right shape, will be perfectly in style. Miss C. L. N.—You could certainly remodel your gown satisfactorily by using black net or even black satin or taffeta in accordion-pleated flounces. Net would have the lightest look, and, if anything, would be beat if you have narrow black velvet ribbon or raching on it. The waist would be best modelled after some one of the illustrations in Bazan No. 34 You could not put any light color with that material to advantage. Pink net, for instance, would be en- tirely lacking in style. You can lighten it by using ribbon of pink instead of black—that is, if you can match it, which, I think, is dubious. M. M. C.—You would have to take out that back breadth before you can do anything with your skir¢, aud you would better buy a new patiern and try and recut the entire skirt. The material is so good that it is a pity not to have the gown satisfactory. You should have a three-quarter-length coat, if you have a coat at all, and if you have a waist still use the jacket effect. Make it after the illustration in Bazan No. 33, page 693, and nee jet trimming by all weans, The lace Ll would not use. It is not a very fine quality, and will not be much in fashion fora winter gown. Lt would be better to have some white on the waist. It would not do to have your gown short as you wish. You can have it cut so that you can easily lift it if neces- sary, but you must not have it with a short skirt in a material so handsome as that of which you enclose sample. Macy Evien.—No, you cannot wear a feather in your hair with your bridal veil. It would look inappro- priate. If you do not like orange blossoms, use some other white flowers, or you can fasten your veil on without any flowers, but it is not nearly so pretty. In Bazan of September 16 you will find a number of illustrations of wedding gowns. Movsnine.—A crépe vest would look very well and would be perfectly appropriate, If it is very hand- some crépe it looks best left quite plain, but if it isa cheaper quality you can have it tucked. It is not con- sidered correct to wear much jewelry when one is in mourning. The only jewels permissible are jet or jet and pearls. White lace cullars are most inappro- priate. Mas. L. D.—You would better combine that green material either with green and brown plaid or with armure silk of the same shade as the brown. I think you would be best pleased if you used the piwid, but everything will depend upon the making up. Of course the gown will be much more effective if you combine it with silk. Why do you not send to one of the large shops for samples of fancy silks and velvets? Send a sample of your own cloth, so that they may judge of the color. Brown and green are very fush- ionable together, and always look well. In Bazar No. 35, page 736, is a pretty illustration you could copy I think you will find, if you entirely recut the skirt of your gray gown, that you will have enough material from what you take out of the back to make a scant detached flounce. I have seen this done several times, and it always turned out well. If you cannot arrange it in that fashion, combine some black and white check with it of the same material. You can leave the gen- eral style of the waist as it is. You will be best pleased if you buy black lace, instead of having the embroidered material ont over your black satin lining. You can put with black a deep shade of geranium vel- vet or heliotrope, bright turquoise blue, the new peri- winkle blue, and yellow or red. There are various new shades of red and blue that are very becoming and amart. The skirts of all your gowns must be gored.
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| | } ae °* MARTHA MCULLOCH WILLIAMS : | —_—_—— ——=—= —— HERE were a thousand intricacies of rollers and other. Bill fell back a step, staring blankly, then gave a at last, ‘* I'll buy your wedding suit, and give you the best chests and belts and Heaven knows what for long staccato whistle saddle-horse in the country into the bargain.” turning out the Patent Fancy Four XXXX Flour ‘You do astonish me! Plumb! You do,” he said at Bill grinned, and answered over his shoulder: ‘‘ You vhich bad added so greatly to the Trayner for- last. ** Still, come to think of it, it ain't so strange. Say, hadn’t no need ter tell me that, Mason. Lordy, boy! I’ve tune Mason, whut in the nation d’ye mean, lettin’ her mammy been in love my own sef some few poor several times.” Bill Steevens whistled in a high droning key as he cyart her away to California? They tell me them West moved about the mill, looking everything over with keen ern countries is the marryin’est places—never wus an ole Willy Ann Sawyer ought to have been born a duchess, comprehending eyes. He was an autecrat to whom re- maid in one of ‘em except she wus too nigh dead ter be | or at the very least a millionairess—that is, if one took her ponsibility was as the breath of life. Since the new mill courted when she got thar. Why'n you turn in an’ tell own view of the matter. As she was not, but contrari- was built, three years back, he had turned various and the old lady ef go she will she may go by hersef?” wise into a state of life which entailed going out to sew sund black men into fairly competent millers. He ** Because—because I can’t. Because I'm a miserable ‘* by the week” among people better off, it is easy to un- spoke to them, here a word, there a curt sentence. The coward. And yet I ain't afraid of anything else in the derstand why she cherished a grievance against Fate. nswers were as brief until he came to the burrhstones. world,” Mason said, letting his eyes range the wooded Willy Ann was romantic in every fibre. She had revelled Yellow Joe looked away from them to say, with a grin, sky-line in story-papers since she was in the Fourth Reader. That Mister Steebens, Marse Mase Trayner he’s a-lovkin’ fer Love was a miracle of sunshiny witchery. Her father was more years back than she now cared to reckon. The ) out dar on the flatform had died young, and her mother all at once chose to story-paper came every Saturday night. It speaks vol- Well He won't find me,” Bill retorted, turning fancy her daughter ** so delicate” as to need a change of umes for the depths and firmness of her principles that entatiously the other way. But inside two minutes climate. Love herself felt no need of any change; indeed, she never peeped into it of Sundays. not even when the he was at the west door,which gave on the platform, say she resented the thought of it. A normal girl, happily most thrilling serial was in its concluding throes. Instead ing, with an air of great surprise Hello, Mr. Mason! regnant over her small world, she had a natural and she went to meeting, and gossipped so industriously be- Must be a mighty queer grist that fetches you ter mill wholly womanly disinclination to giving over her reigning fore and after sermons as to make herself a walking chron- this time o' the mornin and becoming a mere uncounsidered unit in the tourist tide. icle of local happenings. You're mighty right, Bi Mason Trayner respond Mason had searcely slept since Sunday. Over and over She would have described herself in story-paper phrase ed. He was young aud tall and slight,with pensive dark and over he had tried to screw his courage to the speak- as ‘‘darkly fascinating, with a wealth of curls, flashing eyes ing-place. Now for two years, indeed, he had tried to do eyes, and a stately mien.” Unromatic persons said she Bill looked him over, much as he had looked over the it, but whenever there was a convenient season his tongue was sallow-complected, but right down good-lookin’, con- machinery side, grinned, and said, interrogatively, had cleaved to the roof of his mouth. Yet nobody, not siderin’. For the rest, she was the soul of neatness and Wi even Love herself, in the least suspected his state of thrift. But those qualities bad not captivated Bill Steevens It ain't ‘ we If it was I wouldn't be here, and you mind half so much as what he called “* her langwidge.” Willy know it,”” Mason said, almost pettishly. Then, his face Bill Steevens looked Mason over with an air of dispas- Ann always spoke in the very longest and finest words flushing I—that is—say, Bill, were you ever head over siowate introspection, raised his chin, and suid, reflective- she coujd lay tongue to. heels i ve So much in love you coulda’t open your ly: “ Well! ‘Pears like 1 come in ter this somewhars. She had been three weeks at Barnstead, the Murray mouth to the girl? Now the question is—whar is it?” place, stitching industriously away at the less crucial parts Bill's grin broadened L‘ain't been in dumb love with “* |—I—don't hardly know. I thought—that is, | hoped of Love's outfit: Love had a fine feeling for frocks. It uly sence | wore a beard,” he said Ye see, 1 up you could help me,” Mason answered, clutching the half reconciled her to exile when she thought of the love- uu’ courted Willy Ann Sawyer whipstock so hard it suapped. Bill gave the shoulder ly things a-making in the county town. Mrs. Murray had How did you do it, Bill? How does anybody do that nearest him a soothing stroke, as he echoed: been for trusting wholly to Willy Ann. Love had said, f thing Mason broke in Hep you! Of cose I can! Son, you come ter the ‘‘I will not go; neither shall you, looking like the last of B juared himself, thrust both hands into his pock- right shop this time. Have you got ary plan at all?” pea-time, in the fag-end of last year's fashions.” She did ets, and drawled out Do it? Why, it’s jest as easy Mason shook his head. ‘* I’ve made a million,” he said. not know Willy Anv was withiv ear-shot, being by far too Fact is, my only trouble is not ter do it whenever I find ‘ But plans are no good. I must do something—some- _ well-bred to wound needlessly a woman less well-placed myself edged up right handy to a pretty young gal.” thing to keep Love here. I know as well as anybody if in life. But by ill luck Willy Aun heard every word Suppose suppose —the girl was Love Murray?” she goes so far she will never come back—if she does Afterward, of course, she hated Love. A slur upon herself, Mason blurted out, huddling the last words ove on the pvot—” He broke off. ‘* If-you'll help me, Bill,” he said or even upon her language, she might have in a degree a ee pte WILLY ANN DRAWING HERSELF UP TO FULL HEIGUT AND POINTING A SCORNFUL FINGER AT HIM. @eoeade oO —— — @ —s - 4 *& © 4 Oe -— & « & ae
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overlooked, as rooted ih either envy or ig- norance, But her styles, evolved and indi- vidualized by painful combinations, that was Wholly another matter, and but the more unpardonable because of the fact that Love was the best dresser in the county. Commonly Willy Ann was a conscientious worker, but anger had made her so aggres- sively docile she had idled a good part of the three weeks. ‘Tell me quite exactly the style you want. I know | am only here to sew,” she had said very near a hundred times in the course of them. Some six hours after the weliaiie conference—to be exact, about five o'clock in the afternoon—Willy Ann sat in wait at her sewing-machine, upon the east gullery at Barnstead. Willy Ann could not see inside, but could hear every word spoken. Just now the room was vacant, and Love swung luxuriously in the hammock betwixt the two big water-oaks. Glancing at her cov- ertly, Willy Ann decided that she looked exactly like three of her favorite and most heroic heroines, who had spurned counts and dukes and princes to be true to poor lovers. She looked again. small bronze toe to earth, and making the hammock swing like mad. She was smiling roguishly, and had locked her hands over her head. ‘** The temptress! She is showing her true colors now,” Willy Ann said, under her breath. Aloud she called: ‘* Miss Love, would you be pleased to condescend to in- spect this front? Either [I did not fully comprehend, or it has escaped my memory, whether your respected mamma wished—” ** Oh, just make it any old way. She won't care,”’ Love interrupted. ‘‘Or maybe you'd better rest until she’s home.” Willy Ann shook her head. ‘‘ You forget I am a toiler, not a butterfly of pleasure,” she said, loftily. ** Here I remain, either un- til [know your respected mamma's desires— or six o'clock. Then I can retire to com mune with an approving conscience,” ** As you please,” Love said, lightly Just then a heavy step, calm and assured, sounded in the entrance ball and passed on to the parlor. Rube, the black servant, ap- peared announcing a guest. **Miss Love! Ol, Miss Love! De is er ma—er gentemun wants ter see you. He's done in de parlor-room! Yessum! You is done seen him ‘fo’—but he say he take an’ cut my ears off ef I go an’ say who he name is.” “What does he look like? And what does he look like he wants?” Love asked, dimpling all over **He don’ look much like dem res’, dat’s de dyin’ trufe,” answered Rube, “ but I spects he done come fer de same thing Look like eve’'ybody's bound ter cote you "fo" you goes erway.” Willy Ann ached to box his ears roundly. Love laughed gleefully, and said, as she tripped up the steps: ** Run to the big gate, Rube. If the ‘ gen- mun’ don’t give you at least a quarter for opening it, I won’t have him—ano, not if he turns out to be my very own true love.” **Much she knows of true love!” Willy Ann ejaculated, then sprang bolt-upright, stark and rigid. She knew the voice which said **Well! Well! Well! Miss Love! Ef you don’t look your name, why then I'll be shot fer a heathen. I will, shore’s a gun.” “Oh, Mr. Steevens!” Love protested. * You, of all men, ought to have said some- thing original.” **Ser-pent!” Willy Ann hissed, making a step toward the window. Instinctively she felt herself on the edge of a romance. All at once she sat down and hitched her chair back to the machine. She looked about for something to clutch with a painful grip. Choice lay between her shears and the ma- chine’s screw driver, which she laid hold of, feeling it a fair approach to a dagger. The marble calm was really beautiful, an altogether astonishing success. It endured while there floated out to her through the lace-scrvened window, ‘‘ Miss Love, I come yere a purpose ter tell you som’thin’—som’- thin’ you ner nobody ‘ain't never guessed.” **Oh, Iam so glad!” Love cooed. ‘‘I do love to hear secrets.” ‘This is er secret—a astonishin’ secret. Thar’s a fellow loves you—” * Really! Is that so astonishing?” **No,no! You mustn't take me up short that-a-way. The fellow’s the strange part. He ain't no great shakes—jest whut you may call fair to middlin’ ordinary.” * Traitor! The very same words!” Willy Ann hissed to the nearest gallery pillar. The voice inside went on: ‘1 tell you he loves you hard—heap harder’n a mule can kick. “Tain’t no little short-fire-in-brum-sage love, neither. He's been a-sufferin’ frum it ever sence Fothe er July two years back.” The very same time!” Willy Ann whis- pered, biting her lips and batting her eyes. A red spot came in either check as she caught Love's silvery laugh and heard her ask : “Well! How on earth has he kept from telling me about it all that time?’ * He couldn't. He was too skeered o’ you. Why. er rabbit is a plumb warrior compared to him when he comes whar you air” Stee- vens said. He — he wouldn't be a-talkin’ now, only fer this yere plot to run you off ter the cends o’ the rivers and eends o’ the yetb.” “If there was anybody that really truly Love sat up, tipping a HARPER’S BAZAR ACKACHE IS A SYMPTOM. Something makes the backache, and that something requires attention or the backache can never be permanently stopped. “I suffered for years with a long list of troubles,” writes Mrs. C. Mrs. E. writes: “Two years ago I was troubled with constant backache and headache, and was very nervous. KLENK, of Wells, Minn. (Box 151), to Mrs. Pinkham, “and I want to thank you for my complete recovery. Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound is a wonderful medicine for women. “I had severe female com- plaints causing terrible back- ache and nervous prostration ; was dizzy most of the time, had headache and sucha tired feeling. I now have taken seven bottles of your Com- pound and have also used the Sanative Wash, and feel like a new woman. I must say I never had anything help me so much. I have better health than I ever had in my life. I sleep well at night, and can work all day without feelingtired. I give Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Com- pound all the credit, for I know it has cured me of all my troubles. I would not do with- out your remedies for anything.” FURTON, of Meade, Mich., I resolved to try your medicine, and took two bottles of Lydia E. Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, and on taking the third a tumor was expelled. I wasa little frightened, and sent for the doctor; and he said that it was fort- unate for me that it came away. quite well afterthat, and have your Com- pound alone to thank for my recovery.” Multitudes of women suffer constant- Other grateful mul- titudes have been relieved of it by Mrs. Pinkham’s advice and medicine. ly with backache. I got WEARINESS OF BACKACH Whatever your needs in Life Insurance, whether you are wealthy or in moderate circumstances, THE PRUDENTIAL offers policies just suited to you. afford full protection to both your individual and business interests. Amounts, $15 to $100,000 Write for information. THE PRUDENTIAL INSURANCE CO. OF AMERICA. JOHN F. DRYDEN, President. Home Office: Newark, N. J. They HAS THE = PRUDENTIAL Ss STRENGTH OF GIBRALTAR - We ~ have the largest mann. “ factory Sold on instalments. yment. Send for catalogue at once if you want to obtain the greatest bargain ever offered. your name and address plainly and we by mail same day letter is Positively qvaraniee every Organ and Piano twenty five years- will send Teceived. in the world from $155.00 and up. ADDRESS BEETHOVEN PIANO & ORGAN Co. P. O. Box 1049, Washington, N. J. Fasy Write / 829 loved me.” Love broke in, ‘‘ why, I am sure he wouldn't let me go.” “Jest exactly whut I said. You ain't a-goin’, Do you see this yere ring? It cost five hundred dollars. It would’a’ cost more, but thar wasn’t none higher in town. Your ingagement ring oughter cost a thousand. Now you lemme put it on.” * Oh! But I must know who I'm engaged to!” Love said, with a little dainty laugh. Willy Ann clutched the dagger. screw driver and moaned a particularly able-bodied moan. Love started at the sound, and would have stepped to the window, but Steevens waved her back. “It’s jest nothin’ but one of them houn’- dawgs groanin’ over er bad dream,” he said **Don’t you bother about him. Let us git this matter settled.” ** What is there to settle?” Love asked. ** Everything,” Steevens said, succinctly ‘*Fust of all, do you shore ‘nough wanter stay at home?” **I—believe—yes, I know I do,” said, brightly. “Then you're a-goin’ ter stay here,” Stee vens said, ‘‘ Now, do you want this yere sparkler? Look at it, and make shore it ain’t no prize-package affair.” ** Who bought it?” Love asked. Steevens grinned. ‘'I did.” Willy Ann meant to leap lightly through the window and burst like a thunderbolt upon the treacherous pair. Out of his own mouth, by proof of her own ears, she would confound her false lover and put him to open shame. With a shrill scream she rush- ed at the window, lunged partly through it, stuck, and squirmed inside, to fall, bringing the curtains with her, in a rumpled heap at least ten feet from the objects of her wrath. Instead of seeming abashed they both rushed to her, lifted her, and set her in a big easy- chair. **Whut is it, Willy Ann—hornets er yal- ler - jackets?” Steevens asked, solicitously, bending over her. ‘‘ Air ye stung bad?” “T am stung unto death! Stung in the heart! Traitor! Villain! Begone!” Willy Ann said, drawing herself up to full height and pointing a scornful finger at him, It was an intoxicating moment. Steevens's jaw had dropped; he stared at her open-mouthed. Love's face of concern was melting into a ripple of amusement. With a slow, tragic sweep, Willy Ann brought her finger to beat upon her rival, her supplanter. ‘Laugh! You do well to laugh!” she cried. ‘* Fiend in fair woman's fairest sliape, you may gloat over my broken heart, but hear this—he was mine first. He loved Love | me—I swear it!—loved me for myself alone Woman, woman, with so many lovers, why did you covet him? He was all I had in life. Could you not have left me my one ewe-lamb?” She reached her climax on tiptoe, and breathless. As she paused Steevens caught her hand, and said, smothering a laugh: ** Willy Ann, you got ter take that back. I cain’t be a ewe-lamb, eben ter pacify you. Don’t wriggle so; you must hear the truth.” **T have heard too much already. Let me die! Let me die!” Willy Ann moaned. Love walked towards the door. As she laid her hand on the knob it swung inward, reveal ing Mason Trayner. Steevens darted for him. “You come on an’ ‘tend ter your own courtin’,” he said. ‘* Miss Love, please, marm, stay an’ he’p us git the rights er this tangle. ‘Tell the truth now. Didn’t you know who I wus a-talkin’ fer all the time?” Love shook her head. ’ she said, with a little balf-shrug; “I thought you ‘} 0,” | were speaking for yourself—or the man in the moon.” **You were nearly right there,” Mason said, coming astep nearer. ** It was lunacy —the very worst sort—the way I could not —could not tell you how much I loved you.” **So I ups an’ says I'll tell you fer him,” Steevens broke in. ‘‘ Ye see, Miss Love, I wus sorry fer him—I knowed jest egzacily how he felt. ‘Then I reckoned that the | courtin’ that had went down with a lady like Willy Ann "—this with a diplomatie glance toward that person—‘‘a lady edjecated an’ speakin’ langwidge like she does, would do fer nigh erbout anybody. Iv’s the dyin’ truth, Willy Ann, I jest lent myself ter Mason—you understand?—it was all pyore friendliness—” ‘** You were very, very wicked! How was I to know that? Suppose I had accepted you?” Love said, severely, though her eyes danced. ‘‘Oh, please, Miss Willy Ann, punish him as he deserves.” Romance to the contrary notwithstand- ing, Willy Ann had a remnant of common sense, She reached across, took Steevens's hand, and said, as she led him away, toss- | ing her head the least bit, and wholly ig noring Love and Mason, ** It seems like to me, Bill Steevens, you were a mighty cheer ful lender.” As they vanished through the door, Love and Mason looked at each other, then broke into peals of laughter. ‘‘ Oh! oh!” she gasped after a minute, ‘* this is worse than an earth quake! Miss Willy Ann would have gone on using language right through the hardest one that ever set things rocking.” ** Maybe I have found part of her gift of tongues,” Mason said, possessing himself of Love’s hand and slipping the ring Bill bad brought upon a finger of it. ‘* Love, dar- ling, I am not afraid of you any more.” AUTUMN FOLIACE along the Hudson River and through the Mohawk Val- ley make a trip on the New York Central a delight.
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‘NOLLVALLTOQO 4O GOHLEN .NIGVO-DOT» FHL ONIMOHS ‘SSSQHOH-GIHONO ANONSNIG AHL JO INO AULNQOO SINL NI GELVALLTIOO ATIVYENED ISON FHL ‘GIHOUO IVIMLSHYNAL JO SHl0XdSs VARILLVO AHL ONIMOHS SHHULNSdSN BUVH AHL GNV SCIHONO-ATANS.LLOADT
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SEITEMBER 30, 1899 ‘ACTS GENTLY ON a KIDNEYS, LIVER AND BowELs | CLEANSES THE SYSTEM >see’ ats Di ob Coles PERMANENTLY 40 GEp BVY THE GENVINE - MAN'FO BY Gupenia fic SyrvPC. wu BVI Lee " ‘cote, wt, Yan POR SALE BY ALi ORVGGISTS PRICE SOc PER BOTTLE | pon ni maa aaa ‘Wool Soap is made from the purest fats—the best grade of pure mutton tallow. It is just the soap For Toilet and Bath ome and Company, Makers, Chicago ddaacaacaacasenece PPPPPPPPPPOPPDPPP PDD Da ieeedbaeaheeealinsaneiiaen 1B The most fraudulently and flagrantly counter- feited article on the market to-day is the genuine Johann Maria Farina Cologne Old customers are hard to deceive. misled by the bottle and label, but they Anow the Cologne. You cannot be deceived if the label reads: Johann Maria Farina, GEGENUBER dem Julichs Platz —the word “gegenuder"’ must appear or the bottle is a worthlessimitation. Send for circular. Each bottle also bears the label of Schieffelin & Co., New York, Sole Agents. ITCHING HUMORS Torturing Disfiguring Eczemas And every form of itching, burning, bleeding, scaly, pimply, and blotchy skin, scalp, and blood humors, with loss of hair, instantly re- lieved and speedily cured by warm baths with CoTicura Soap, gentle anointings with Curt. ouRA, the great skin cure, and full doses of CuTicuRA RESOLVENT, greatest of blood puri- fiers and humor cures. They may be weak digestion Genuine bears name Horsford’s on wrapper, and girls’ garments of the present season. | amples that will inspire the admiration of | est skill of the practised gardener. HARPER’S BAZAR TWENTY PAGES Terms: 10 Cents a Copy—$400 a Year, in Advance Postage Free to all Subscribers in the United States, Canada, and Mexico Subscriptions may begin with any Number HARPER & BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS New York City: FRANKLIN SQUARE LONDON: 45 ALBEMARLE STREET, W Also for Sale at Brentano’s, 37 Avenue de |'Opéra, Paris SPECIAL autumn-fashion number of the Bazar will be issued October 7, that will bring before the readers of this publication a most complete rep- resentation of the best fashions in women's These are to be delineated with unprece- dented faithfulness to detail, and will com- prise some of the latest millinery designs from foreign sources; a charming display of in-door gowning, including matinées, tea jackets, and tea gowns, as well as even- ing costumes, from the simplest to the most elegant of lately devised women’s garments. These represent the brilliant workmanship of such Paris houses as those of Paquin, Callob, Weille, Boné Sceurs, and others, Out-door apparel will be shown in equally rich variety, including jackets, wraps, and capes from the maison Grune- waldt and leading London and Viennese houses. * * * N the same issue there will be fully illus- trated a large number of very chic hats and bonnets from foreign modistes, including | several models from the maison Carlier, among them several clearly depicted hats for walking and carriage wear—in short, ex- home and professional milliners and of every woman who knows tle value of becoming. and modish head-dressing. The illustrations | of London tailor-made gowns that will form part of this special number are representa- tive of the most exclusive of present cloth models, such as are sure to be the stand-by of four-fifths of womankind during the coming season. The interests of growing girls are admirably cared for in a display of costumes that include street and home gowns, and such | outer garments as jackets, capes, etc., the whole making an altogether unique and com- prelensive fashion magazine, and one that every woman will be sure to value highly. T= cut paper patterns to be issued with the special fashion number will be found to be especially practical and desirable at this season. The woman’s garment repre: sented will be a late and handsome New- market, equally appropriate to meet the needs of pedestrians or for carriage service, The model is one that reflects the most ad- vanced ideas in the fashionable world, and will prove as serviceable for evening as for day wear. The lines are most graceful, and will prove as admirable if rendered in plain fabrics with simple stitching as its sole gar- niture as for elaborated velvet with fur trimmings. The new model is sure to em- phasize the value of the incomparable Bazar patterns, and to demonstrate anew the feasi- bility of home-made garments that possess perfect style. The girl's pattern to be issued with the same number provides an equally attractive model for the gowning of little women of thirteen. * ° * | NE of the most useful of all the brilliant features of the special autumn fashion number will be found in the cut paper pat tern Supplement, an eight page review that will embrace all the cut paper patterns is sued by Harper's Bazar between the dates of February 29 and September 1 of the cur rent year. This Supplement will be sure to fill a long-felt want among our pattern-pur chasers, and is issued with a view to facilita ting the selection of patterns during the pres- ent fashionable season. In compiling this catalogue there have been added to the list | of gowns and the illustrations of each one descriptive notes, which, besides giving the amount of material required for each pattern, contain valuable suggestions for varying the treatment of every design according to in- dividual taste. With such hints to guide them it will not be difficult for the intending | purchaser to combine separate skirts and bodices. ORCHIDS AND ORCHID-GROWING THE FASHIONABLE FLOWER FOR VATED IN T the funeral of Cornelius Vander- | be seen in the pictures. bilt the social world placed its stamp of approval on the orchid as the reigning flower for this season. It was a rather pleasant tribute in | this instance, for the orchid represents the very acme of the floral kingdom and the high- | The fiat making them supreme for this year has now gone forth. Another fad is the growing of muskmelons in hot houses. Mr, Ogdeu Mills has made a success of this. y= pictures of orchids here were taken for | the BazaR at the greenhouses on the es- tate of the late William B. Dinsmore. They | represent both species, the celestial and ter- restrial orchids. The former were compared by Mr. Peter O'Mara, the orchid expert, to mistletoe, since they are parasites and grow on trees It is inconvenient to have trees in a greenhouse, however, and pieces of bark are substituted, or, better still, as will be seen in the pictures here, little ‘‘log cabins.” These are sus- pended from the ceiling and filled inside with moss and pieces of crockery. The celestial orchids have long that need no soil, but draw their sustenance from the air. Just as an oyster fastens it- self to a rock, these plants require being at- tached to something. Mr. H. McK. Twom- bley cultivates them on a board placed in a standing position, with high sides in order to keep the tendrils from falling off. «*«* a*s HE terrestrial orchids, on the contrary, must have soil of a sandy nature, as one finds in the woods. The most generally grown species of this class is the cypripedium, or Venus’s-slipper. Our moccasin-flower and jack-in-the-pulpit are species of the terres- trial orchid. One of the most beautiful of the celestial orchids, and easiest to cultivate, is the Pa- pilio oneidium, or *‘ butterfly,” grown plen- tifully at the Dinsmore houses. The flower is perched on a stem so filmy that it cannot | shape and the markings of a butterfl | chid, roots | 1899-1900, AND HOW IT IS CULTI- THIS COUNTRY. It has both the oo ; : y: The Dinsmore collection contains one of | the rarest and most interesting plants in ex- istence. It is the nepenthes, and may be seen hanging down from the roof of the greenhouse to the right. It is not an or- but it comes from the home of that a Borneo and the islands of the South acific. It is a fad now among wealthy flower-fanciers to cultivate the nepenthes, which is a never-ceasivg attraction to vis- itors. - * ‘O raise orchids a greenhouse is absolutely necessary. A tropical temperature must be maintained, and the floor is usually swim- ming in water, in order that the plants may take up moisture all the time. One can get an orchid - plant, take it home, and it will complete its bloom, but it is not likely to bloom a second time. With the proper care in a greenhouse, though, an orchid will last for fifty years. With eac h year it grows bigger and waxes stronger, and from time to time it may be subdivided to start new plants. Some orchids are delightfully fragrant; others have no odor whatever. ‘To run an establish- ment like the Dinsmores’ costs about $25,000 a year. They, like all the fanciers, strive ever to make new species by crossing the polien, and, as Mr. O'Mara said, ‘three hairs on a plant may make a difference in its value of $300.” THOSE varieties of orchids which are supplied by both merchants and private | growers bring now anywhere from fifty cents to five dollars per flower, so thut | the orchid will be an expensive item in the equipment of the society woman this year. The finest collections of orchids in this country are those of Hicks Arnold, in New York; the Ames family, at North Easton, Massachusetts ; of Kimble, the cigarette mag- nate, at Rochester; and the Corning collec- tion at Albany. There are a dozen beauti- ful orchid- houeis | in and around Boston. . * * 831 HARPER'S BAZAR | Failor-Made Suits $5.00 Ov R new Fall and Winter Catalogue of tailor-made costumes and cloaks is now ready. We illustrate in it all of the newest Paris styles, and will mail it /ree, together with samples of materials to select from, to the lady who wishes to dress well at mod- erate cost. We keep ro ready-made garments, but make everything to order, thus giving that touch of in- dividuality and exclusiveness so much to be desired Our new Fall and Winter Catalogue illustrates a splen- did assortment of suits and cloaks made according to fashion’s latest dictates Charming Costumes and Tailor-Made Suits, faultless in cut and fin- ish, $5 up. Handsome Jackets, lined throughout, entirely | different from the ly vp _— $5 up. | Jaunty Capes, $4 New Skirts, cut ——— to the ‘latest French 4 Up. Golf Capes, Newmarkets, Bicycle Suits, etc. We also make finer garments and send samples of all grades We pay express charges everywhere. Our line of samples includes the newest materials, many ot them being exclusive novelties not shown elsewhere Be sure to say whether you wish samples for cloaks or for suits, and we will then be able to send you a full line of exactly what you desire. Write to-day for Catalogue and Samples; we will send them to you, /*¢e, by return mail. THE NATIONAL CLOAK COMPANY, 119 and 121 West 23d St., New York. Rich Laces. Point Arabé, Venisé, Renais- sance, Guipure, Crochet, and Cluny, All-overs, Galons and Flouncings. Lace, Filét, Jet, and Appliqué Net Robes, Fringed Laces. a ta NEW YORK. r« OMO Is the only perfect Dress Shield Spec ified ladies’ where. No Rubber. No Chemicals. Is the only shield that is absolutely odorless and impervious. by leading tailors every Every Pair Warranted. If your dealer not keep them, send 25 cents for sample pair. Iilustrated book let free. OMO MFG.CO., Middletown, Conn. does MAISON LAFERRIERE 28, RUE TAITBOUT, PARIS Reminds its numerous American Lady-Customers who honour this firm with their orders that they will always find there the most splendid assortment of the very latest no- velties created in " ROBES ", MANTEAUX ad COSTUMES Patented Furnisher to H. R. H. the Princess of Wales, A A, ls he, Mn Le, i, i Ln, 2 4 | VverEerTeVTerTerTerTer Mac in Live val thon eee
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VA lt CVs PAL: y ly At,’ 4 dy afi 4 fi 1 —_ 4 hay lle \ LW Yy ] SF bil iy rr a EZ, Z. ig tf Yj Z L { t UNDER “For Goopvness’ SAKe, SARAH YOU KNOW THAT ‘TIME 18 Preastna’?” MORE THAN SHE COULD BEAR Ir wae juet after dinner. Caterby, serene and satia ent re y evening paper as his wife came } thim on the arm My suid I have sumething I want to She could have chosen in all the day no more pro- tienes moment than this, and yet, as Caterby laid vn bis paper and prepared to listen, his lips grew firm, and etraightened himself up with the air of one 4 expects bad news Veors for nothing We my dear,” he enid, pleasantly, “ what is it 7” He had not been married There fe no nee in beating about the bash with vo eplied hie wife, eweetly, “but to be brief, you k w the Highblowers are going to give a dance livereday wight, and of course I expect to go. The mt evenit rown I had ie really not fit te wear, and I wonld » mach to get another one. Would you mind if I Onterby's eves took on a hard, set look, My dear,” he anid, “in the firet place, you must yneider and must believe that I am willing to do for you all that my circumstances permit, but there is a nit beyond which I cannot allow myself to go. If you wet that gown it meane all the way from one han- dred to two handred doetlare more added to my ont- snding accounts, and I don't eee my way clear. Oh, my darling,” be continued, seeing the pained and die treseed look on hie wife's face, as he reached over and took her hand in. bie, “ beliewe me, there ie nothing that I wonld not do for you if Icould, It breaks my PRESSURE. ANN, HURRY UP AND LIFT ON THE END THERE! heart to talk thie way, but I know in the end it is hest You wouldn't, I am enre, want us both to reap a harvest of unhappiness afterwards, and all for the sake of a paltry gown —_ * Don't!" exclaimed Mrs. Caterby, the tears in her eyes, as, deeply affected, she turned half aside to hide hgr emotion. “ Don't say another word, dear. If you de, L shall almost wish I hadn't ordered it!" a “ Well, Mr. Smithers, did your boy John get throngh hie examinations at college all right?’ asked the rector “Not all of ‘em,” said Mr. Smithers, “Tle passed in Latin, Greek, English, avd mathematics, but he flunked on football.” —_—————— There's many a slip "twixt the cup and the lip There's many a #lip to be lipped on, And here’s to Columbia, gallant young ship, The chip "twixt the cup and the Liptou ——— “Great bneivess, thie liquid air,” said Dawson ‘It is indeed,” replied Horsey. “It's going to he a rrent thing for men like myself with large families. Vhen the doctor prescribes mountain air for your wife and seven children, instead of having to travel 400 miles to get it, and paying $200 a week for breath- ing it, all a man will have to do is to send for a keg of it and let ‘em drink it in at home.” A UNITED FAMILY. Pouty's View. "Tia very plain, as all can see, We four are of one family— The Dog, the Doll, and Ma, and Me. We all have noses, all have eyes We're all a# pretty as can be; We all are good, and rather wiee, As those who know us will agree. No wonder Daddy makes a fuse To have a family like ue— Although he dves not like my whim That Fido takes more after him Than after Ma, or Me. A WARNING. With a capital of $3,000,000, the American Pie Trust was incorporated yesterday in New Jéreey.—Dai.y Parse. I do not mind the Sugar Trust; care nanght for Trusts in Steel; The Oil Trust dees not worry me and make my blood congeal. I do not rant and roar about because It comes to pare That some rich folk get up a big monopoly in gas. The railways all may go combine, for all_it. bothers me; I'd just as lief some clever chap should corner all there be, Combine on Wheat, on Coffee, if you're wishing so to de: Buy all the cigarettes there are if it seems good to you. “Trast" everything you chance to wish; combine on all there is. I mind it not so long as it don’t interfere with biz. But oh, ye grasping millionaires, avert your envious eyes, And don't, I beg you, cast your blighting gaze upon our Pies! For in this land 80 broad and free the Yankee brave would die Defending the integrity of Liberty and Pic. The two have gove together, sire, all through the passing years; To both we've clung in constancy, in spite of flings and jeers. And to them both we'll ever cling in firm, steadfast array, And he who'd shackle either one will surely rue the day! So heed ye, grasping millionaires, restrain your en- vious eyes. Go tamper with 'most anything, but don't you touch our Pies! “Why did Mortimer give up Cutaway & Snip? Pa are the best tailors in town. Didn't his clothes t “Yes, his clothes fitted all right; bot Morty enid their bill was entirely too big for him, and they re- fused to alter it to suit.” In, view of the comments made on the fact that Columbia is to be sailed against Shamrock by an Eng- lish cuptain, what is the matter with making a change right away and patting Admiral Dewey in command ? —_—_—_ Ordinarily the wrath of authors over typographical erters in their books is not wholly justified, but we entirely sympathize with the anger of the historian who wrote ‘the enemy were armed only with a pair of six-pounders,” and had oS of seeing it printed “‘the enemy were armed only with a pair of suspenders.” There is a limit beyond which patience ceuses to be a virtue. -_—-—_S C—O “ Why did you leave your Iast place 2?” asked Mrs. Willoughby of the would-be cdok,. “I hovn't left me last place,” replied the appli- cant. “I hovn't had any lasht place to leave. I've heen worrkin’ for meself for six months, an’ I can re- commind merelf to yez very hoighly.” —_—@e——— It ia not in the province of this journal to enter into a discussion of foreign politics, but we cannot refrain from saying that we think the Duc d'Orléans has the wrong title. He is mure of a goose than a duc. ———— “The press, sir, ie the safeguard of our liberties,"’ said the after~linner speaker, enthusiastically. *“ That's probably the reason why it takes so many of ‘em,” growled the politician whose heart rankled under criticism. i a bs = oo TAKING MOTHER'S ADVICE. Obedient Willie, “MAMMA TOLD ME TO KEKP AWAY FROM THOSE BAD Boys, AND I'm DOING MY Bes.” THE FOLLY OF HOUSE-CLEANING. BY A BAOUKLOR. As a bachelor who bas lived with varions married brothers, | want to enter my protest against the sense- less practice of house-cleaning. Cannot housewives see that the act is an admission of poor housekeep- ing ability? A well-kept bonuse is clean, That is an axiom. And if it is clean, where is the need of house- cleaning ? > Iam not the first man to cry ont against this prac- tice. I remember to have read nomerous articles by the funny meu of the press directed against this vice, but to me the affair has vo funny side. Is it hnmor- ous to have to move all your belonzings from one room to another in a vain effort to escape the deadly ravages of the housewife? Is it a joke to have to eat your meals on the gas-stove and do your writing on ihe stationary tabs while zone wife and the maids are rubbing imaginary dirt from the dining-room and eweeping it from your study? A woman with the fever of house-cleaning apon her is not responsible for ber acts. There is no woman living who is so sweet-tempered that she can go through an attack of house-cleaning without turning— her temper, There is no man alive who is so angelic that he can avoid giving his wife offence while she is under the fell influence of the national disease. Does a man tell you that he helped his wife put up or take down the dining-room stove withoat any hard words? Trust him not, he is fooling thee, as Longfellow was in the habit of saying. A soft anewer turneth away wrath, but not when you are helping your wife take ap the matting. She will bew!l over your soft anewer with words hard enough to drive tacks. If a young man, instead of trying to find out the quality of his fiancée's temper by taking her to the theatre and to evening parties, would visit her at her home when she and her mother are roaming unshackled all over the house in the last stages of house-cleanivg, marriage would not be so lightly entered into, nor would divorces be so disgust- ingly prevalent. Nor is a woman to be blamed for becoming infuri- ated over the process of house-cleaning. A man may be in Wall Street during a panic, he may be the over- seer of a gang of incompetents, he may be the super- intendent of an insanve-aeylum, bat he will never have any experiences so trying to bis temper as the use- less bat seemingly inevitable experience of house- cleaning. I picked up a paper this morning, and in the local notes was the report of an accident to a young woman. She had smashed her thumb while honse-cleaning. Is a clean house worth a flattened thumb? Are spick- and-span reoms worth the alienation of a husband's affections ? What is it to the minister that his wainscoting looks fresh and clean, when the style of his sermon has been muddied by many interruptions? Why _ should the poet be proud that his wife has polished the legs of the piano and brightened the hands of the clock, when the feet of his poem have been so injured that they limp under the stern eye of the reviewer 7? What is it to the domestic man that his bed-room is sweet and fresh, while the wife of his bosom is hag- worn and soured by the process ? House-breaking ix les@ of a crime than honse-clean- ing. It is less insidiows It is attended with fewer hard words, with much less noise and displacement of dust, and it is accomplished by an avowed enemy of society instead of by the companion of your lite journey. Aud it is vastly more succeseful—from the burglar’s point of view at least. knew a man in Chicago who made a practice of never marrying until after bis proepective wife had finished her annua! honse-cleaning. As a consequence, hie marriages were gen | happy ones, But the most diabolic kind of house-cleaning is that form which attacks some women who have had geverations of thrifty and weat forebears, bat who themselves are anything bat neat. With these women house-cleaning is an involuntary act. They gothroagh the motions, they have all the symptoms in their most aggravated form; the husband eats in the kitchen ; the wife's temper ix lost beyond hope of a clew; and in spite of all, the houre is not clean. These are like the dog who tarns around thrice before lying down— he knows not why; or the hen brought up on a mac- adamized floor, who scratches as hard as did her ancestors in the garden. Women who in other respects are singularly open to reason, and whose minds are as progressive ax a game of enchre, will steud ap for this babit with all the narrow-mindedness of a backwoods woman. Ask any woman of your acquaintance whether she believes in cleaning house, end she will look at you as if «he Sone peat sanity in doubt. Then ask any married man, and he will tell you that the vermiform appendix is not more useless than honre-cleaning. With this difference of opinion between the sexes, it ix easy to fancy the bitter words that are laid to the credit of a couple that have been married sixty years, and whose devastaied threescore times by the whirlwind of house-cleaning. Spring would be the most delightfal season of the year if house-cleaning were abolished. ‘To the house- cleaver the odors of the woods and fields appeal in vain ; sweeter to her is the emell of soap and patent cleansers. The tender grace of the adolescent maple leaves is as nothing while the walnat leaves of the ex- tension-table need scouring. Happy is that man whore wife never allows her honse to get dirty, for to him house-cleaning shall be unknown, and the passage of the lives of the twain shall be as calm and aurnffled as that of two leaves — the bosom of a placid stream. And the address of that wife shall be found in the directory of the millennium. Cuances Batter. Loomis.