Evening Star Newspaper, March 18, 1882, Page 7

THE EVENING STAk: WASHINGTON, SATURDAY, MARCH 18, 1882—DOUBLE SHERT.- @PRING GOODS AGAIN—THE BRIGHT COLORS—A PARIS CRAZE—EASTER COSTUMES, ETC. Suor Stks are revived. Scarce is still fashionable. Rat's Tat, Crent..e is a new fringe. Pare Rose is the newest evening color. Dressmakers decry esthetic dressmaking. Tus Newest Coat Sieeves are full at the top. Frenrs, jabots and large collarettes grow in pularity. Nowz but very pretty women can afford te ‘Wear very plain hair. Navy Bive and scarlet are a favorite combi- Nation for young girl's suita. = Tae PreseNt fashion demands that young giris shall be simply dressed. Box-PLalTINGs are superseding flat-plaitings and kiltings as a dress trimming. No Postrive Styies will be announced by ressinakers and milliners until Easter. LeNGrTHwise Tucks in the upper breadths of overskirts appear in many silk costumes. STRAWBERRY-RED and copper-red polka dots are seen upon new black satin fabrics. MANY More straw bonnets of dark colors are seen than of white or yellow tinted braids, A Wan between large and small hats rages in Paris. The largest hats are worn in London. Kitt Piarrep skirts and short tabliers ar- ranged en panier around the hips are much worn. Reap the fresh spring advertisements of the Rew goods of the Washington merchants in to- day's Star. Grexapive Lace for trimming grenadines comes with designs to match the broché flowers of the grenadine. Pointep V-shaped waistcoats appear on im- ported costumes. The point of the Vis at or Dear the waist line. Expromerep Banps edge the parts of many handsome costumes wherever a band of trim- ming can be applied. ALL Bives, from porcelain and navy to gray | blue or greyhound, and sky to water blue, are found in new veilings. ALL PASHIONABLE Colffeures are arranged low in the back. In front they are waved or crimped but close to the head. Lovey anp UskFvt bath robes are made of asingle fine blanket. The stripes trim the bot- tom, collar and sleeves. Uwspersxirts of plain material will be much worn with over-dresses and basque bodies ot flowered and figured stuffs. Ross is the favorite color for the solid-colored ginghams or zephyrs that come with open-work embroidery bands on the selvages. Laptgs wuo wave flounces of fine old lace form them into paniers on dresses of satin, moire or any of the gauzy tissues now worn. Buraxo is the coming lace. It is embroidered in large, round dots with silk floss, on a strong but sheen silk reseau of Brussels net. Some of the summer silks, louisines and taffe- tas, are in very narrow stripes, with invisible cross-bars under the longitudinal lines. Corron SaTseNs and light alpaca are fre- freed used by economical dressmakers for the foundation skirt of silk and veiling dresses. PLary, tight-fitting bodices, full panier or tablier draperies, and much trimmed skirts are the rule for spring suits of light woolen stuffs. Very stylish spring walking costumes are shown, made of olive, gold, and bronze cheviots, Lover with facings and pipings of Japanese Rosrsups, forget-me-nots, daisies and bluets in tiny designs are favorite flowers among the | stare found on spring satteeas, percales and foulards. AT a REceNT ball given at Delmonico’s, the Majority of the young ladies wore black dresses with very short sleeves and very long black gloves. Ervorts are made in Paris, as well as Lon- don, to introduce the fashion of wearing the hair short and arranged in small, flat, round euris, in the style of the first French republic. EXTREMELY long-skirted, tailor-made coats fare to be much worn this spring. Many of the new models have wide revers turning back from the front of the skirts, these being faced usually with satin. New American Prints are so finely finished, #0 well colored, and so artistically designed, as to verify our prediction that they will in the early future drive printed cotton foreign goods | ‘out of our markets. Tue Fronts of some of the new street basques for spring are made after the style of Camargo bodice, the sides being caught up pannier-wise, and the plaited ends fastened underneath the breadths at the back. Cuemisettes of striped or dotted percale are very fashionable for morning wear. They have & double-breasted front. fastened with gold but- tons. and English turn-over collar, with cuffs and buttons to match. Mascuine night shirts are of barred nain- Sook muslin with narrow bias stripes of printed shirting stitched on the bosom, the pocket, col- lar and cuffs. The figures on the printed stripes are small horseshoes, dots, crescents and stars. Some exceedingly pretty spring dresses of pate gray and fawn-colored repped silk are effectively brightened with deep collars and cuffs, sashes, and other accessories of Bayadere striped satin, in colors of royal blue and gold, | olive and silver, peacock blue, garnet and ruby. A Noumuerof very beautiful demi-trained dan- cing toilets for the easter season are being pre- pared by a New York house, made of silver and white and pink and silver brocades. These @resses are made up over white satin petti- coats, adorned with silver, crystal, and chenille embrolderies and fringes. A Reception dress in New York is of white striped moire and white velvet brocade confec- tion, trimmed with full Spanish lace beaded with pear! beads. The train ot moire and brocade | is seventy inches inlength. The draperies are | looped across the low corsage with artificial tiger-lilies. A double knife-plaited ruffle trims the skirt and train. Aono new spring millinery garnitures are crown pieces of gold or silver lace, in old Vene- tian designs, with lace edgings to correspond for borderings or face trimmings. These lace | Pieces are very choice, and are to be laid over foundations of rich-bued ‘May velvet” for spring bonnets. and over bonnets of pale-tinted satin during the summer season. Tue Larest Parisian caprice in gloves are kids, undressed or dressed. of a pale pink, just the shade of the flowers of the ground laurel. | ‘They are immensely long, and worn only in the evening with almost sleeveless toilets: It is scarcely possible by gaslight to tell where the | gloves end, as they are so near the color of the when worn by a blonde. Wurre Batiste axp Waite Satrve will be much more fashionable for summer toilets than white Victoria lawn. Suits of these materials will be made up in Watteau style, trimmed with rufles and bands of Swiss or Madeira embroid- ery. Afew very elegant models designed for graduating dresses and fetes are made with a demi-train and lavishly trimmed with Oriental or Polanza lace. but in most instances the skirt is short and made in the style just described. Dexr-saison toilets are to be combined with plush. Plain round woolen skirts, in beige, navy blue, or green, have full double rouchings and bands of itedor striped plush. The pol- onaise Is oj soe ant chen sbi ps ‘is back ih a plush panier, drawn tightiy in front and | opening over the bip. This forms in the back a Postilion, or the waist is left plain, with a woolen “habit Garde Francaise” and a p'ush vest. The ends of the habit and revers of the collar are striped plush. For children about the same arrangements are made. Staprxp FLasse Costumes will ina great de- gree take the place of the suits made of a mono- ckrome color which have been worn for so many seasons past. Prettier and more effective, how- ever, than either alone would be a combination of the two—for instance, an underskirt of royal blue and old gold striped flannel of the smooth finish of ladies cloth, with a Watteau tunic of Foyal blue flannel. a jersey bodice of the same shade and a wraceful little Moorish coat, basque cut, double-breasted, ‘aoe fastened with gold at gd Warren Bioreuisr—St-Touls is watching a list, Ar- lo, who is eudeavoring, fo, rile 600 miles a ‘The conditions | his folly in having joined ther EAST BLOW. BY SUSAN N. DAY. From Harpers Bazar. The summer hotel among the mountains was almost deserted. Haifa dozen of the late- staying guests were gathered in the little par- lor, for their last evening. A high September wind turned their thoughts to the desolateness of the winter months in the White Hills. Maud Wellington, always a leader in talk and action, called to the landlor« “Come here, please, Mr. Little: tell us how you ever live here through the winter?” “*Wa’al, you jest come up here and try one of our east blows! I tell you, you don't know anything about the maountings. You only come up here when itis warm and nice, and Mr. ata! oe he drives his team around, what d’ye call it 7” “Tandem!” suggested George. “Yes, tantrum; and he takes you girs to drive, and it’s all very pretty. Jest let him be here in the winter, and he'd drive tantrum, sure enough.” * Wouldn't it be fun?” asked Maud. ‘* Would really take us in, if we came up next win- “‘T guess most likely I could. You'd have to kinder put up with things, though. I'd be real glad Ge see you, mROW; the winters is awful —lonely |” Tain in earnest, and I will come if the rest will. I think it would be very jolly,” sald Maud. “ quite too awfully ghastly jolly,” mu mured her brother George, whose slang was overwhelming. The others all promised they would join her ifshe formed a party, and the next morning they separated, and forgot all about the plan and the promise, as people do. it was late in December. The holidays were approaching. and dissatisfied. The season had been very disappointing. Everybody was dull and stupid, germans were tiresome, dinners more so, and she was tired of Boston and every one in it. And all this was because a certain Thomas Sedgwick Thornton had not appeared in the city, as she had expected. It was none the less true because she would have denied it, and that she had always laughed at him, and’ pro- fessed to hold.him in the most perfect contempt. She knew perfectly well that he was a hard- working lawyer in New York, with little time for holiday-making, but she was quite unrea- sonable enough to think that such trifles as business made no difference. He ought to have admired her enough to have made any sacrifices, and have made haste to continue the summer's acquaintance. It made no difference to her, also, that there were many others as assiduous in their devotion as he was remiss. He was the Mordecai at the gate, and she was unhappy. The wind howling round the corner of the house took her thoughts back to the last evening in the mountains, and a sud- den resolve made her spring to her feet. “‘Mother,” she cried, eee the library, where her mother sat dozing before the fire, “T have made up my mind. We will go up to the mountains, and see how they look with the snow on them.” moe crazy girl! we won't do anything of the sort.” Mrs. Wellington always made a point of seem- ing to opposeher daughter’s plans, but she al- ways did just what her children told her to do. Maud wasted no words in entreaty, but coolly told her that she must go, without more ado. With Maud to decide was to act. George was delighted with the prospect of such a “lark:” he had not known what to do with the holidays. Notes were immediately sent to those who had been with them when the proposition was made and to several others who might be congenial spirits. When they had written nearly all, Maud said with perfect carelessness: “T suppose yeu will have to write to that Mr. Thornton. I don’t think he would add much to the general hilarity, but I am afraid it wouldn't do to leave him out and ask all the rest who were there.” “Right you are!” said George. “I'll send an invite to the old duffer; he’s not half a bad fel- low, after all. Of course he won't put in an ap- pearance.” But it is the impossible which happens. For some occult reason, Mr. Thornton chose to join this wild expedition, and presented himseif at the appointed time at the rendezvous. With the exception ot himself and poor Mrs. Welling- ton, who looked already victimized, it was as gay a party as Boston could furnish. As usual, it was Maud who was leader and prime favorite. But she was admirably seconded by three of her friends, only a little less brill- jant and daring than she. Then there were two or three society men, who would have gone any- where that Maud and her set proposed. _Little didtheycare for the grandeur of mountain scenery in its severe winter dress, but the trip promised much fun and unlooked-for opportu- nities for carrying out certain intentions. Last and noisiest of all came George Wellington. a Harvard Sophomore, with an equally reckless and hair-brained classmate, whom the young ladies alternately petted, snubbed, and used as foils in their more serious schemes. Mr. Thornton felt out of his element, as he had done so many times during the summer. He was not keyed to the same pitch of high spirits and unceasing gayety. He was grave, quiet—a man who was terribly in earnest about everything that he did. From the first moment that he saw her he became fascinated with Mand, against his will and better judgment Her beauty, wit. caprices, would not let them- selves be forgotten. He was angry with her, he heartily disapproved of her, a dozen times a day; and then, when he was most indignant with her, he discovered that he loved her with a love which he could not reason away nor live down. He was more bitterly enraged with her than ever to-day, as thecars rapidly bore them toward the mountains. He cursed himself and No one seemed to want him. Mand, with her usual perverse- ness had given him a careless greeting and turn- ed away to lavish her brightest smiles and mer- riest speeches on Gilbert Livingston, a man whom he cordially hated and despised. Mrs. Wellington alone seemed to need him. She was nervous, weak, and timid, dreading the journey, and unable to control her children’s madness, so she clung to Thornton with in- stinctive trust in his sober strength. He never dreamed, being blind as men are, that Maud saw every motion that he made, that she had so | Placed herself as to hear every word he spoke. He only saw, with wrath and shame, that she was flirting openly, desperately, with that soulless, brainless Livingston. But even Thornton shook off his gloom when they came among the hills. The highest peaks were white with snow, reflecting the setting sun with dazzling brilliancy against the marvellous biue of the sky. It was very cold, but clear and still, when they left the cars for their drive of a few miles. Mr. Little met them with his six horse stage; the wind had not left enough snow on the rising ground for sleighing, to Maud’s regret. It was an exhilarating drive. The air was like wine, and made each inhalation an in- creasing joy. The laughter and the sweet, ringing voices of the girls no longer jarred upon him ; he was a boy again himself. and startled them by his wit and gayety. Maud was de- lighted. She warmed toward him, and left poor Livingston shivering out of the sunlight of ber favor. It was all going to be a perfect suc- cess, she thought, and blessed herself for the inspiration. ‘he hotel, when they reached it, after the stars had come out superbly in the clear air, looked as if prepared for asiege. [twas closed, except, a few rooms on the ground-floor of the west and south sides. On the north and east every blind was securely fastened. “Have you had an east blow yet?” asked Maud, as they dashed up to the door. “No, miss, not yet,” said the landlord. “T guess we will hey, pretty quick, ere The maountings hev kinder looked like it all day.” “T hope it will come. I should consider our whole trip a failure if it doesn’t.” Mr, Little shook his head and smiled doubt- fully. “I guess when you've seed one, you ee be likely to want to see another very quick.” The next day was gloriously clear. There was no wind stirring as yet. It was this still- beni oes roused or forebodings ~ beri — lor is guests a magnificent walk, they said: they climbed part way up Starr King, and had a view a hundred times more superb than they had ever tmagined it couldde. It had beea hard work climbing over the sli; rocks, and they came back to the house delight- fally tired undin undiminished spirits. The general hilarity flagged not during the evening round the huge fire, and all pronounced thei all except Mrs. from the fire all day, and more nervous as the talk about the expected east blow continued. In the morning Mr. Littie’s predictions were verified. The city people's ears were startled by what he had so often described as the “‘roar- Maud Wellington was restless | Within the house there were hurried prepara- tions. Mrs. Little aa her sons ha adeiped hing as fast as while her easarebae care give the cattle and horses food and water to last them till the storm had pa: ; for when it had Teached its hetgnt, neither m ae beast could stand against it. ornton, , and his classmate prepared to go down to the barn and help them, for the time seemed very short. ey pares the Bore a cee bonita lence. ick as thor w ersel in her fur cloak, and said she would with them. Her mother was so distressed she would have desisted, but that she caught Thorton’s look of disapproval and disgust, she thought, and then nothing could have prevented her. Seizing her brother's hand, she rushed out of the house. The barns were west of the | hotel, some little distance down the hill. The wind carried them on as if they were straws, and drove them brethless against the building. Maud had never dreamed of its force. When they were inside the barn, and the door had been closed with difficulty, Thornton sald to her, very sternly : “This is perfect folly. If youdo not go back to the house Instantly, you will not be able to they could scarcely hear each other even then. Maud was bitterly ashamed of her folly, but not one whit afraid. Even Thornton could not help admiring even while he blamed her. He asked Little to take her and “the boys” back to the house. He himself, being strong and large, would stay and help the men. It was the best plan. The four had a hard fight to return. Holding each other's hands, one keeping behind the other as much as possible, they mrignoe up the hill, Once they tell flat to the earth, but regaining their feet after a moment, they tolled on, and reached the protection of the house. Little said he had never seen the “blow come on so fast.” There was no use in his trying to go back to the barn: the men would do what | was necessary, and his strength was half used up by his efforts already. After Maud had re- gained her breath she went to the window, and would not stir or speak. Her eyes were fixed onthe barns. The others gathered round the fire in awed silence. The terror of the storm was upon them. It seemed as if nothing could stand against its violence. Mrs. Wellington was nearly fainting with fright. She was cer- tain that the house would Once Maud turned and said, in a strained, hard voice, “Mr. Little, how long does this sort of thing generally last?” “Waral, it begins abaout noon to bethe worst, and it keeps it up till next morning.” “Ought not the men to comeup pretty soon?” she asked again, with ill-conceale anxiety. “Oh yes, they'll be up directly, I guess. But they did not come. Once Maud saw three figures creep around the partially sheltered side of the building, but when they reached its front they were struck down, and she saw them crawl on their hands and knees back into the sheds. The full horror of the circumstance struck her. Calling Mr. Little, she told“him what she had seen. “Then they must stay there till it is over?” she said, in low, unnatural voice. I’m afraid so,” he answered, anxiously. “Dotry to heip them,” she pleaded,so earnestly that the men all resolved to try, though it was of so little use. Taking a rope, Little tied all the volunteers firmly together; even the “howl- ing swell.” Livingston, as George called him, offered to help. When all was ready, they crept along ‘the western side of the house with little difficulty. But when they reached the corner, they went down like planks. They tried again and again, and then came back into the house tired and disheartened. The short afternoon had passed; the early darkness made the terror of the storm more awful. Mand still strained her eyes through the deepening gloom. The storm ‘at that mo- ment was at its height. Clutching the window- frame tightly with her fingers, she pressed her dilated eyes against the pane, and saw with speechless horror the roof of the large barn swept off as if it had been paper. It was all the more terrible because not a sound of the falling timbers could be heard above the ceaseless roaring of the wind. It was an awful night. No one thought of sleeping. They clustered together about the fire in silent terror. From time to time Mr. Lit- tle spoke re-assuringly. ‘There was no danger for themselves, he said; the house was firmly built; large beams passed diagonally from floor to ceiling through the partition walls; it was not possible that they could give way. But the awed hearts were not easily assured. Maud alone had no thoughts for herself or the satety of the house. She had seen the roofless barn, and she strove to ure the fate of Thornton and thetwo men with him, without food, with- out fire, with no roof to shelter them, and per- haps crushed by falling timbers, for it’ had been too dark to see the extent of the disaster. She told no one of the sight which she had wit- nessed. Only she and Little knew what had happened. All that was best in her came to the surface that long, agonizing night. Never ag could she silence her better, nobler self. Ver base and contemptible seemed all her wiles, her caprices, her coquetries. It had been her wild folly that had placed Thornton in this danger. If she had not delayed the men they could have returned to the house before it was too late. If he were alive when morning dawned he should know how bitterly she had repented. She remembered how she had trifled with him when once, the summer befor, he had told her that he loved her more than he had ever loved any being betore or ever could again. She had not meant to drive him away from her; she had only meant to tease him for a little. But he had taken itall in earnest, and now, of course, he had ceased to think of her except to despise her. Ifhe had continued to love her, would he have been so.long silent? She little knew that the man who was all sincerity could not understand the insincere. R He would never care for her now, of coursé, and she loved him with all the force of her strong, ungoverned heart. After that night of agony she could never be the same. ‘The pale daylight dawned upon her white face. The wind died slowly down, as the sun came up the troubled sky. The ruin of the night was revealed to the weary watchers. Three men came slowly up the hill, tired, hungry, half-frozen, but safe. ‘They had made a comparatively warm nest for themselves in the hay, where they had passed the sleepless night. The part of the barn which sheltered. them and the cattle and horses had been uninjured, and sed @ man or beast had been hurt by the falling ms. Mrs. Wellington could not be induced to re- Main an unnecessary moment in the terrible place, and late in the afternoon the subdued y were in the cars returning to Boston. ‘hornton confessed that it was the most un- comfortable night he had ever passed, but that he would cheerfully have undergone far greater hardships for the reward that it brought him. Before they reached the city he had learned of the agony which the night's suspense had been to Maud, and she had acknowledged her love for him in answer to the passionate reiteration of his devotion to her. And this was the work of an £ast Blow! 0 THERE IS @ young editor wandering on the face of the earth who formerly published a Paper at Storm Lake, Iowa. He left there the day after the issue of his last paper, and is sup- posed to be crossing the state on foot to get away from an Infuriated femsle populace. It seems there was a concert given by young ladles of the city, and the gallant young editor wrote it up in splendid shape. The same day he had visited a herd of short-horn cattle, owned by a farmer in the vicinity, and he wrote up the cat- tle also. The cross-eyed foreman of the office got the two articles mixed as follows: ‘The con- cert given last evening by sixteen of Storm i mem ens bocce! young ies was iy iat ey were ele- gantly dressed Ages in @ most manner, winning the plaadits of the entire au- eo) ine pronounced them the finest short- horns inthe county. A few of them are of a rich brown color, but the majority are spotted fine bodied, tightlimbed.almais, and. provalse 1 fine-bodied, iim! ani ane to prove good property.” —Peck's Sun. ee A Lenten Bream. ‘The lights are out, the play ts d ‘The Ke ry = ‘ane has feds” Tsit aloue as with the dead And wish the play Were half begun, Before my mustng vision rise anit iite’s_ passing stream, phantoms nti Sg Like wrecks upon youth’s golden: ‘Lie reites of that biisstul time— A flower, a lock of har, a Atny from one fair ‘Nay! here are other locks of hair, More faded flowers, of gloves a score; Of dainty, scented notes some more— My trophies. Ah! I must beware. _ Glass Decoration, - From Harper's Bazsr. Glass decoration is not arduous; on the con- trary, it is pleasant and easy work; and allow- ing that change of work is as good as play, the worker will regard it as recreation rather than labor. Al the several kinds of glass used for wit rolled glass is best for the purpose. It is semi nt and somewhat rough on one side. For staining, that which @ slightly greenish tint is excellent. ieces about three inches square, termed quar- ries, are leaded together until the requisite size of the window or blind Is secured—the leading. however, is the last process; each piece is first separately traced and stained, and after bei fired they are sent to a workman to be put together in the right shape and form. The first point isto measure the space to be filled, and we Propose first to consider a window-blind, as it is asmaller piece of work. to commence on than the entire window would be. and then to pro- cure as many squares as willeover it. If a round or square center piece is desired. fewer quarries will be needed, and a large piece of glass will have to be obtained to fit into the center. In measuring, an allowance should be made for two or three narrow rows of glass, which form a border just inside the frame work, and give color to the ae This border should run round the whole blind,and also two rows should be introduced round the center panel. These borderings being composed simply of plain col- ored glass, the student will have nothing to do with them except to leave the spaces in his Measurement, and to give the order that they are to be inserted when he sends the squares to be leaded. The outside oneof a pale yel- oats and the inner of clear ruby glass look well. The other materials with which the worker will have to supply himself will be a fine, long brush for tracing (it should be one fitted for the purpore,) and another good-sized camel's Nair for laying on the stain; some tracing brown color in powder, which, when painted on solidly, is a rich red-brown; some yellow stain, which is also to be obtained in a powder—the foundation of the stain being silver, causes it to be expen- sive, but a small quantity will last a long time, and go far toward ornamenting a large space (it does not merely adhere to the glass as enamel colors do, but, as its name implies correctly, it literally stains the glass, that is, it sinks into it, and, to a certain extent, colors it); a bottle of fat oil of turpentine and some ordinary turpen- tine. An arm-rest is al almost indispensable, It is a piece of wood some two inches broad and about fifteen inches in length, supported at either end by blocks of wood about two inches high that keep it off the table. Its purpose is to raise the hand above the glass, so that the brush, when tracing is being performed, may be kept in a vertical position, and also to steady the hand, that the tracing lines may be true. The design should be drawn on squares of thick drawing-paper er thin cardboard of the same size as the quarries. Ink will be used for the outlines, which should be clear, firm and broad. The petals of the flowers and the leaves are then filled in with yellow, the veins of the latter being put in with black; ’ when dry it is sized to preserve it. One flower or one leaf may fill a square, or a sprig with leaves and flowers may be used. Only one or two squares will need to be drawn, as the pattern is re- peated. The pattern must not reach to the edges of the squares; if it 1s allowed to do so the tips of the leaves and of the flowers will be hidden by the lead. The pattern being complete. the square of srlass is placed on it, the smooth side uppermost, and the design is traced on the surface of the glass with the tracing brush and tracing color. The color, to which water is added by degrees, is ground on the slab with @ muller until per- fectly smooth, and a very small quantity of grated sugar is mixed In and ground down with it. It is more pleasant to use when it has been mixed some time, even a day or two previous. Let the color dry on the slab, when it will be seen if too much or too little sugar has been used; if it dries very slowly, and appears shiny, too much has been used, and it will need to be reetified by having more powder ground up with it. Too much sugar is apt to cause the color to boil up when fired; at the same time something of the sort must be used to make it adhere to the smooth surface of. the glass. A few drops of gum-arabic or treacle will serve the same purpose. Always trace on the smooth side of the glass, leaving the rouch side for applying the stain. 'The arm-rest now comes into requisition. Tt is placed quite over the glass, and the hand rests on it so that the brush can be held in an upright position; the color is then laid on, not drazzed on as in paiat- ing on drawing-paper, but allowed as much as possible to run on. A little difficulty will be ex- perienced at first in tracing exactly, but it will soon be overcome with practice. When dry hold it up to the light; if the Jiaes look even and equal in width, it will be satisfactorily done: if the color is dragged, or dries in lines instead of appearing solid, it should be washed off, and done again, When a particularly thick line is desired, such as a pistil of a flower. quickly outline it. and be- fore it dries fill it in with color. The gla should be perfectly clean and free from gr: ness. The faster glass painting is done, con- sistently with doing it well, the better it will look; it does not require any touchiu up, bat the color should be put on at once, and decided- ly without alteration. Staining is the next and last operation. It shoutd ‘not be attempted until the tracing is thorou:zhly dry, for fear the latter should get rubbed off; fhe square is held in a slanting direction in the left hand, which rests upon the table, and the stain is applied with a thick camel's hair brush to the back of the glass, that is, to the opposite side to which the tracing color has been applied. When the stain is mixed, it is important that the palette knife, muller and slab should be scrupulously clean, and freed from every particle of tracing brown color. The mediums used are fat oil and turpentine. A few drops of fat oil are first mixed in with the stain by means of tne palette knife. then turpentiue is added, and the whole is rubbed down with the muller; it should be quite smooth and free from grit. The stain ts laid on tolerably thick; some glass requires it stronger than others, but the slightly greenish tint we recommend does not need it particularly strong. The stain when laid should not be too flat, the strength may even bea little varied, but it should be free from streakiness. Itshoul not require touching up when dry, nor should it be painted on with fine strokes of the brush; it should rather be laid in its place at once with- out any after-meddlifig or rubbing-up of the wash. Another point to be noticed is that while it must quite reach tothe traced outlines, it must not spread beyond; if by any accident it does so it must be taken off with a piece of stick or the point ofa knife. 3 How te Run. From St. Nicholas. Very few boys know how to ran. I don’t mean that most boys can’t run fast—I meanthey can't run far. I don’t believe there is one boy in fifty of those who may read this who can run a quarter of a mile at a ood smart pace without haying to blow like a porpoise by the time he has made his distance. And how many boys are there who can run, fast or slow, a full mile with- out stopping? It hardly speaks well for our race, does it, that almost any animal in creation that pretends to run at all can outrun any of us? ‘Take the smallest terrier doz you can find, that is sound and not a puppy. and try a race with him. © He'll beat you Hy. He'll run a third faster than you can, and ten times as far, and this with legs not more than six Inches {ong. and then a good hound will sometimes follow a fox for two days and nights without stopping, going more than 350 miles, and he will do it without eating or sleeping. Then you may have heard how some of the runners in the South At rican tribes will run for long distances—hun- dreds me miles—carrying dispatches and making very few ae make these comparisons to show that our boys who cannot run @ mile without being badl: winded are very poor runners. But I believe can tell the boys something that will help them to run better. Iwas a pretty old boy when I first found it out, but the first time I tried it I ran a mile and Sunites stone Sah a eames not weary nor wo. mow I’m give you the secret: Breathe t! hrough your nose! Some animals, such as the dog and the fox, do open their mouths and pant while running, but they do this to cool themselves, and not because they cannot get air enough through theirnoses. There are many reasons why we it to make our noses furnish all the air to our lungs. One is, the nose is filled with a Itle forest of hair, which Is always kept moist, Hike all the inner surfaces of the ‘and particles of dust that id nore them the air becomes warm. Buf thee arvouly afew why the ‘nose ouzht not to be Teasons switched off and left idle, aa.80 many noses are,- while thelr owners go puffing through e Concealed the Oft- The man under the bed does not always prove aayth. Perhaps it is an actual fact that wo- men who pray look for him more regularly than others of a less spiritual tarn of mind; when the good woman kneels at the bedside to offer her devotions it is the most natural thing in the world for her to first explore that historic ter- ritory and satisfy herselfthat no concealed burg- lar is listening. Itis also well-authenticated fact that a pious woman in the suburbs of Lon- don did discover the legs of a bold, bad house- breaker sticking out just asshe began her pe- tition. She did not shnjek, but went on witha prayer for that ictlar sinner that would ave melted the heart of a Newgate thief. I wish that It might be added that he was con- verted on the spot, came out, and was par- doned, and afterward married the petitioner. But truth compels me to add that the good wo- man was interrupted in the most solemn part of her prayer by a peal of laughter from the grace- we oe eee enacted the part of a burglar. More tragic was the story of the lady who, traveling alone, stopped at an inn and men- tioned the fact that she had been followed and watched by a villainous-looking man with a shock of red hair, who she feared had designs upon the valuables she carried with her. As nothing was seen of him at the inn, she retired for the night, carefully locked the door, and was soon in bed, leaving alight burning in front of a mirror! No sooner was her head on the pillow than she hada distinct view of the man with the red hair crouching under the bed. She made no sound, but reached softly for a scarf she had laid near, made it into a running noose, and waited. Thenext morning when her servants broke open the door, they found the lady sitting up in bed, grasping with both hands the noose in which she held the fearful weight of the dead man; she had strangled him, but was herself a raving maniac, from whom reason had forever gone. Some time ago a prominent judge in Bir- mingham, N. H., was found murdered in his "own house and no clew to the murderer. It was immediately afteran adverse decision he had made in a ease of great importance, and the murder was supposed to have been insti- gated by a desire for revenge, but as all the pales were respectable people it was impossi- le to fasten the guilt on anyone. The judge was a widower, and lived alone with the excep- tion of a young daughter and the servants. This daughter was beautiful, and on the evening in question had returned home froma bail at a late hour and gone directly to her own room where she stood before her mirror taking off her jewels. As she did so, she held her white and rounded arm above her head, and conscious of its beauty said aloud: “What a beautiful arm!” little thinking the idle remark of such conse- quence as it proved to be inthe tragedy that followed. The girl both saw and heard her father’s murderer, but as he was masked failed to distinguish his features, but always declared she should know his voice if ever she heard it. Several years passed, and in another city she was standing in a crowd observing some pars- ing sight, when she was conscious of the curious Tezard ofa stranger who stood near. Looking at her with a singular intensity, he made this remark: “Oh, the beautiful arm!” She knew the voice in an instant, and throwing herself bodily on the man, denounced him as her father’s murderer. He was arrested, tried, and con- victed, and told how he had lain hidden under the bed and heard the idle remark of the young girl which she herself had been scarcely con- scions of. He had recognized her on meeting her, and involuntarily betrayed himself, as he had been a stranger and an unsuspected party. Detroit Post, = eee The Baby’s Hand. From the Detroit Free Press. Mrs. Arnold was showing a friend through her pretty new house, which wa3 undergoing a sec- ond and flaal coat of inside paint, and gave prom- ise of being as esthetically beautiful as the deco- tative fervor of theage demaaded, the color being a delicate shell pink, like the inside of a rose. “Isn't it lovely,” said Mrs. Arnold admiringly toher friend. ‘You see this is an east room, and so it is to have the tints of the morning. Some mizht think it too delicate for every-day use, but I shall make that very delicacy a means of education. Ihave taught’ baby already that she cannot touch it. Come here, dimple”—to the little one toddling behind her. *Baby won't touch the pretty paint.” ‘Baby won't,” cooed the little one in its sweet idiom, and giving it a kiss and an admiring ca- ress the young mother pointed out to her friend the beauty of the window embrasure and the view it commanded. “I shall sit here summer afternoons with baby. Won't it be lovely? Lace curtains within and green vines without. It will be a picture and a poem both.” And they strolled on, leaying the two-year-old baby looking with far-seeing eyes through the pretty window, and it was not the rosy tint of the paint nor the flush of healthy childhood that read slowly over the little face and sent a tired little head to seek in vain for rest on its mother’s b m. All thought of the tributaries of beauty or art passed from the mind of the young mother as she saw her darling’s fever flushed face. and she locked the beautiful east room,and left it to the gloom and solitude until the crisis was past! “And the dear little hands, like rose leaves Dropped trom a Jay still, lever to snatch at the sunshine ‘That crept to the shrouded sill.” Yes, it came to that, and an awful emptiness of all life, and then a hard, rebellious acquies- cence in the decree of fate, and one bright day he mother went into the pretty east room, and, t ith her friend, lived over that day wten they ‘wv d last stood there, and looked with exceeding bitterness on the tinted color that was to have made all her summer bright, and what could brighten it now? Ah, me! how strange that when the voice of red eming love says: “My peace 1 give unto }0u.” we will have none of it. If Mra. Arnold had read on the walls in letters of light. ‘Let not your heart be troubled,” she would never have heeded, and when her friend, pointing through the window to the blue sky beyond, said, tenderly, trustingly, “Sne is safe,” the mother cast down her heavy, tear-dimmed eyes, and with a cry of Jey kissed again and again one single blemish In the smooth painting of the window sill. What was it? Only the dear dead hand of her baby imprinted there—the little hand which had been laid one moment on the wet paint that had molded it into this perfect shape, and that now seemed to point and beckon the way she had gone; a baby’s sinless hand that wou some day be reached out to welcome er— “With the light of heaven thereon.” ———— oe Stays and Bonnets. Then what shall be said about the corsets? What does the Ladies’ Rational Dress Associa- tion, with Lady Haberton at its head, say about the advertisements in the Queen anent corsets? “They reduce the size of the figure without causing any injurious pressure, while their graceful shape adds anew charm to the form.” Whether the audacity or the mendacity of the statement is the greater may be a matter on which opinions can differ, the magnitude of each being so great. A liver compressed till the marks oe ieeslacoay are visible “injurious pressure. meat of some of me less lous pressure,” cera driven down’ war is until displacement follows, is quite a trifle from the modiste's point of view, perhaps; but to the physician it isa grave matter, often entailing ill-health for the Hei of a wana tay; inst, Be only shape” of a wasp-' ly; 5 Grins fom tun yomare point of view. Thea as to the lower limbs; concealed trom view by flowing skirts? is honored, but why not health? Warm woollen peiktesy- levee lower limbs are quite as de- sirabie for the softer as for the more robust till the reaction to poke will have a till the bonnets BUILD GPEC J. W BEN = PIANOS AND ORGANS, Dealers orrene ar CHAUNCEY 3. REED, fern ‘®ucoessor to Sidney T. Nimmo,) Xo. 1. $125.) Full T-oct. SQUARE PIANO, in beau- No. 2. ) UPRIGHT GRAND PIAN! in perfect onder, by Win. Rants 8 On ‘Teruns 8100 ca No. 3. ($160) One of those Matchless CHICKERING PIANOS, in elaborately carved case. $60cash; balauce ST No. 4. ($250.) HORDMAN UPRIGHT; new, suverd instrument. §50 cash; balance How there — teenaged Answer.—If are ruited, make u deposit ‘as we shall posl= aly deciine: towive refurals. Es _CHAUNCEY J. REED. | JQ EICHENBACH’S PIANO WAREROOMS. PIANOS | makes for sale and rent at re- p.m., for iver duced prices. Wm. Knabe & Co.'s World Prete | renowned Pianos.” ‘Timing and Repairing. 23 11th etreet, above Pennaylvania avenue. £23-1m } ALLET DAVIS & CO.'S UPRIGHT GRAND PIANOS. WORLD RENOWNED AND UNEQUALED. Also, the Celebrated HARDMAN UPKIGHT PIANO, NEW STYLES FOR HOLIDAYS. H. L. SUMNER, SOLE AGeyT, 811 9ru Strext Nortuweer, mI6.6m_ 7th stree Note. = and Organs for rent, tuned and repaired. ja GENTLEMEN'S GOODS. the Fight time, we insert thik (ite reminder NNISS fold the = 5 +z | Becona ¥ | First-class Fare to “Myntery” Shirt for 75c. 36 for a When every one else asked $1.50 for the eame quality, | Second-class Fare | audit fe the same quality all the time, The wood “Alpe. tery” Shirt that you bourht of unl. 2, 3, 4.5, 6, 7 or 8 years ago for 75 cents can be duplicated in ‘quality’ THE N and price to-day. “Mystery* Shirt is as good as any Shirt in Wash- DRESS SHIRT MANUFACTORY axp MEN'S FURNISHING EMPORIUM, 816 F Street Northwest. NECKWEAR, FOOTWEAR, HANDWEAR -made SHIRTS at following prices inished, 90c, at very PORTABLE RANGES, For No.4 OTIS BIG We have several Stoves and Ranges that ‘We will sell at cost price jarch Ist. in order to make . Some HEATING STOVES still on hand to be sold at cost. To clean out the balance of Gas Jortables, we have put them down at less than manufacturers’ prices. Call early and secure Bargains in above goods, at VERN Orte jana W. 8. JENKS & CO., £20 (7 SeveNTH Starer NontHwest. us W. BOTELER & SON’S LATEST IMPORTATION ENGLISH AND FRENCH CHINA, DINNER AND DESSERT 8ETS, CREAM AND BERRY SETS, FINE CUT GLASSWARE IS NOW ON EXHIBIT. J. W. BOTELER & SON, Importers or Cara, Gass, &c., 923 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. Southanoton “and i Bowne Washinetons DOUBLE TRAC STEEL RAD IN EFF 4 fT VV EDDING PRESENTS, W DIN Bi Gaily + Fast Tine, DECORATED yo AGERS TO EUROPE. On and after MARCH 19th the STEAMER SUF, : will HENSO! Jth street, EVERY SUNDAY, at . leaves | Norf DAYS and SATURDAYS, at four $60, 280 ona sion errool aura Quecistowa und Through” balla piper for Belfast. G) wen for Bare A atwery: sud other ‘portson lor Mediterranean ports. reight and pareaxe apply at the Company's office Bow ce or both stecraxe abd Cabin 0 ORTH GERMAN LLOYD— SreaMsuir Line Between New Yore, Havas The pesos of tency Sit SU Ry aa CRDAY from Bremen Pier, % street, Hoboken. Rates of :—From Ni jvanis avenue northwest, Agouts for ____ RAILROADS. HE GREAT Mi LY ANIA. TO THE NORT: OK. ROUTE, DID Sct eR thie oy a ‘CT JANUARY » oi For Pittsburg and the, Went Gh ‘or Pittsburg an ‘nieawe. ‘Pullman Hotel and Sleep ERS’ SUPPLIES. aS EDY & ©O, ‘Estabiiabed 1800, TIN PLATE, ROOFING PLATE, SHEET IRON, COPPER, PIG TI, SHEET LEAD, ZINC, BUILDERS’ BARDWARE. 606 PENN. AVF. AND 607 BSTRE! EAMERS. &e. 3, W. BOTELER & SON the sale ff, Packets tm this District ef AN STEAMSHIP CO. ing to visit Burope can obtain all im No. 8. ($75.) Pull and fal toned SQUARE PIANO, by’ Andrew Stelne: Flo cash; Ualance nouthige | Are the Agents for No. 6. ($70.) A any UARE PIANO, in x onder, by Stuns and Siatk: $50 cash: belauce saat, FL. a 337 ffl}, Genuine MASON & HAMLIN DOUBLE | formation by appising to REED ORGAN. Terms cash mi7-3m 3. W. BOTELER & SON. | porouac TRANSPORTATION LINE. Baltimore and Kiver Landing, t must be Prepaid. ‘Returning, arrive in Washineton every Saturday night, STEPHENSON & BRO., Aornrs, et Wharf and Cor, 12th and Pa. ave, * FOR POTOMAC KIVER LANDINGS. Op and after NOVEMBER Sn, 3881, the ARROWSMITH will leave ber wharf, foot of 70h at 7a. m. every MOND, and SA DAY for all river landinis. oun Ferry. On THURSD: AY, THURSDA: On MC YN ai iments Hav Stone's Wharf SHAEFrers © PPR PP) On SATURDAY, Carionan and’ Loo PERE RB PLANO 8. ms BOHN 1. WoO ‘Onry Aoswey aT ee SER ata . BECKE! treet northwest Street whatt pvery ‘Diting and Repairs, ears Bs | THCRSDAN at f Selock == a — - opping ai 1 HE STIEFF, THE KRANICH & BACH, AND | jowlays, Matton Creek on other first-class PIANOS and OLGANS, } 4, dint Sundays “do 5 ea aie eege errr t and Wertnesdays "say" returning to Washington evecy eee 1) Monday, Wednesday and Friday afternoous. Sole Agenta, For information apply to 709 7th street northwest, near G. 5 Pianos ft YORFOLK AND NEW YORK STEAMERS. THE STEAMER T iv OF THE = : | will leave her wharf, fool of 6th street, eves SHIRTS, SHIRTS, SHIRTS. WEDNESDAY and FRIDAY, at p WANT TO REMIND YOU THAT WE SELL at Piney Point, Pott Loc better Shirts for the money asked than any other eatab- CONNEC NG AT NORFC lishment in America. Not that we doubt your know- AND PROV IDI STEAMERKS ledyeof the fact, Lut for fear that you misht not think | First-class Fare to Fortress Monroe and Pare te Fortress Monr Point and 2 Pipes Put and p.m. EW YORK MERS: JOHN GIBSON and F.C. KNIGHT will rename thelr Pier New ¥ ‘and the price, unfuiased, pe 41, East Kiver, New York, every ice, tnfiished, 75 cente. at rh MEGINNISS'. 1002 F strvcet northwest. at oon ‘aun: Bor pecteas 5 ter stent tien . rT uourson's statrrocium cali be ected. at wtrect.. National Sl jetropolitan 1991 Pmmylvania ave . 8. to the Nether! Best Wamsutta, unfinished, 75c. g Bore Brcokl har Best of the f... unfinished, 65 Bi, SPinet Cabin, §00-870. Sd Cabiny "$50. Steerage, ‘$26, Boy's Wamsutia, unfinished, 60c. 386. $0 | H. CAZAUS, General Agent. 2 South Willian, sreeh, 3. ELLERY fee Soret eae Ss. = ° H. JOHNSON, t, National Sate Deposit Bist succeason To commer New York averiue and 19th street northwest. DUBREUIL BROTHERS, Comarp LINE. MANUFACTURERS OF FINE DRESS SHIRTS wort SHIN LANE Ro = oa THE CUNARD STEAMSHIP COMPANY LIMITED, 50) 2 Pees SOE aee MOamIeeni Ex, BETWEALLING A COKK HARBOR. FROM PIER 40. N.K.. NEW YORK. Six of the Finest Dreas Shirts to order. Wed 22 Meh. e Six Extra Fine Shirta to order, Wed.,2) Mar. Wa 5 an We Apt. Ka WEDNES! ATES OF Fi aeroraini Bt th La Lother parteof Europe rates. ‘the Coutinent, .» 605 Tth strect, Washington, = 605 7th street, Washi foot of 3d jew York to Havre, Bremen, firet cabin, $160; Ww SPLEN GNIF ‘Trarxs Leave WasHINGTON, FROM STATION, CORNER ‘Care at 9:30.8. m., 9:30 a.m, 7, With Sleep a.m. mith Sleeping SY ay ee 1:30--p. m. daily, with Stiabure and Clactnnati.”” a $30 ‘Express, 9:50 p. ™m. oany, for Pittsbury and the ing BALTIMORE AND ‘Por IMAC ILROAD. POTTERY AND PORCELAIN, Fe daicua, Rochester, Buttaio, — Fak RICH CUT GLASS, fe except Saturday, with Palace Care FINE PLATED WARE, 80. | po. fandnltNS y waven and Bimira at 9-30 a M. W. BEVERIDGE, For New York (are Ween & Brvenrpcr,) and 10.20 1009 PENNSYLVANIA AVE. MEDICAL, &e. —DR. BROTHERS HAS the treatment nuale of Diseases, ties, Brplapais Falling of the Womb)'and Nervous 5 Sultation free. Office, 26 street southwest. i eal advice, every ‘Wednesday and Saturday, at ottes, ON Liberty eee Baltimore ms. tin 456 C dai Banta; ay, ri ‘Tine, 6:408.m. and 4:40 p.m., daily, . y am. and 4:40 p.m., daily, exoopt ‘f ND FREDERICKSBURG RATL- T AND ALEKANDILA AND WASHINGION 00 a.m., 10:90 a.m, ‘On Sanday. 1:30, 9:50 Express ‘of Pui men Par PERMATORRHG@A, IMPOTENCY AND ALL PRI- | For st Disenews igh cured; asp Lucorrhana and daily. and 5:00 teed. “Otten oie ninS.3S and 10:00 TCTIMS OF CHKONIC AND 303, a Sa ah ieee fag’ to destination from hotela adn General Passongse ath FRANK THOMPSON, Generai Manager. BALtMorE ‘THE MODEL Bt ients and Onscsen. Ellicott City, 00—1 “Al > & OHIO RAILROAD. FAST, AND THE ONLY LINE +3 MONDAY, Jan. Sea theey ‘TON f LTIMORR ax New ‘ORK AND BOSTOR wae ES