Evening Star Newspaper, June 8, 1889, Page 10

10 ‘Written for Taz Evernre Stan. ELEGANT BILLIARD ROOMS. Indoor Recreation Amid Beautiful Sur- roundings. PRETTY AND NOVEL DESIGNS—MAGNIFICENTLY DECORATED ROOMS IN NEW YORE MANSIONS— ARTISTIC BILLIARD TABLES AND CUES—POPU- LaR ATHLETIO EXERCISES. Billiard rooms used to be in the basement, but, as other rooms, they are tending upward. Houses will soon have to be all top. Men will © Up stairs to play billiards when they won't go down stairs. In the basement they are too near the servants, whose ears are preternatur- ally acute. Upstairs there is greater freedom for conversation. Men who have sons find that if there is a well-equipped billiard-room near the roof, with | good air, unrestricted vision, adequate privacy and satisfactory means of refreshment, that sons after business hours are much more apt to come home, bring their friends with them, and play until dinner then to go to their clubs. 4 MOORISH ROOM. Wealth and discriminating architects have produced some marvelous billiard-rooms in this town. An architect of large experience says that nothing in the country compares With the billiard-room of Mr. W. K. Vanderbiit. It is @ Moorish room opening out of the great is I banqueting room. The walls are erage in S-feet-wide old — — tht from Spain, rich with irridescent dyes and peacocks’ eyes lustre, a secret that modern enamelers have never recovered. Above the wainscotting the walls are of papier mache, modeled in designs secured from the Alham- bra twenty years ago by Mr. K. M. Hunt, a favor not qranted since by the Spanish govern- ment. There have been plenty of modeis since secured with geometrical precision by calipers | and cunning instruments, but these show the blunted angles and softened lines of the origi- nal, and as Leap toes colored with the same tints have that ¢ which the greater pre- cision would not give. The doors and ceiling are of butternut, elab- orately ornamented with Moorish interlaced work. The mantel and the fire-facings of the horseshoe arch are of Mexican onyx, and a se- ries of onyx columns above the mantel breast make niches where the cues and other neces- sary solids and liquids of a billiard-room are kept. Opposite the mantel is a fountain se- cured in sniche where the water breaks in x, over silver ribs with beautiful effect. window of the room is in itself a notable feature. It is filled with perforated ornaments end behind this a large onyx, so thin as to be almost transparent. ‘his is of butternut, in- Jaid im Moorish designs, and in keeping are cbairs and divan. Adjoining is a Moorish toilet- room with Moorish tiles, with the fixtures in onyx. THE ESSENTIALS OF A BILLIARD-ROOM are few, but they are very essential. There must be plenty of clear space around the tables. The walls should be such that cues awkwardly handled shall not harm them. There should be no projections to stride out and imperil the arms and shoulders of the enthusiastic players, There should be raised seats conveniently out ofthe way for on-iookers. There should be recesses for cues aud other things. The per- fect bill contains no non-essentials, Mr. Cornelius Vanderbilt's billiard room is im the basement—the corner room. It is, in fact, a mahogany box within the room proper, and so complete that at any time it could be femoved like cabinet work. The niches for cues, the closets for refreshments, cigars, &c., are all inclosed within this mahogany lining, and in order, as has been intimated, that there should be no projections to interfere with the elbow room, the divan for spectators is in the alcove which makes the bay of the parlor. The table isof mahogany, richly carved, made ac- cording to the designs of the architect. ‘THE TABLE. A billiard table, like a piano, is in form a thing to be endured when it cannot be allevi- ated. Certain conditions are inevitable. It ‘ions, 43¢x9 feet or 5x10 feet. It must have strong supports. For ‘Was accor: pect te e88 aggressive. wrestled with it and finally brought it into sub- jection. So important is any successful result that the designers of the tables in the Union League club patented the design, and the house committee of the club, as a courtesy, will some- times it members to have the design re- pected for themselves. Billiard tables have 2 ed in white enamel and gilt, daiatily enough in color for my lady’s chamber. Ur » however, they are of sturdier charac- ter and in dark woods. Mr. George Vanderbilt has a table of Ja aneve design. The wood is lacquered in old red, and dragons and other i forms of are hammered in. This is presumably a Japanese room. Such rooms are d with matting. which is an admirable pro- tection for the walls against the cues, THE BILLIARD-ROOM OF MR. CALVIN 8. BRYCE is paneled with matting, although not a Jap- nese room. Mr. Bryce’s billiard table is con- sidered one of the handsomest in town. It is of o&k elaborately carved, and particular at- tention has been given to making its legs ob- as the legs are almost the only chance that the designer has. For Mr. Bryce’s table the cloth was specially dyed to match the antique blue green of the ceiling which _ the color tint of the room. It ap- pears that the cloth used in billiard tables is a special weave made by a man named Simoni, in Belgium, and can be procured nowhere else” The green of the ordinary table is as well- known as the grass from which it borrows its tint. Occasionally other tints are used—gray, for example—but in very rare cases. One of the most astonishing tables just ordered, and which the makers call a freak, speaking in the language of the side show, has a bright yellow cloth cover, yellow satin pockets and brass covers to the pockets. It was ordered through a large decorative firm here, and it would = interesting to know for what gay-minded and strong-eyed player. The handsomest billiard table ever made in this country was for Patti, who, as is known, is an enthusiastic lover of billiards, and it is graciously said plays @ good game. The table ‘was of rosew and amaranth woods, with hand-painted panels bordered by re of fvory. It cost 3,000, and is now at Craig-y- nos, her castle in Wales. 4 RECESSED ROOM. The billiard-room of a gentleman who for- bids his name to be used has some pretty architectural features. It is a long room in colonial styles, and wainscotted in oak within 8 feet of the ceiling above, which is a painted frieze. At cach end is a dais with divans, and these are architecturally placed in al. coves by letting down from the ceiling per- forated screens, which seem to reproportion the room. The windows are filled with Crow- glass, and the receptacles for cues and the closets are appropriately recessed. One feature “of this room go not seem 80 desirable. The table is placed on a platform with room, of course, for the players, but in the excitement of a game it is always possible fora man totake an unlucky back step and lose his equanimity, if nothing more, _ Not only one of the handsomest but a bil- liard-room the most appropriately masculine in its fittings is that of Mr. Howell Osborne, at Osborne villa at Mamaroneck, which is, by the way, one of the most distinguished country seats, both in its architecture and in its decoration, in the suburbs of New York. This room isin oak, with ouk-studded ceiling, and the wails are covered with brown culf skin, fastened to place with brass nails, excepting ip its sweetbreads, truly valuable as in this form. The soft-brown hue of the tanned hide is one of the most agree- able tints that nature and man have combined to produce. It carries with it also such a pleas- ant suggestion of strength, endurance. indiffer- ence to hard knocks, a sense of virility, com- Plementing those things one likes to think of men, and therefore so appropriately used in men's rooms and belongings. HANDSOME BILLIARD CUES. Note great deal of attention is given to The calf, seems never 50 handsome billiard cues. Length, weight and balance are the important considerations. The wood proper is ash finished with leather ti that are made by the French ts, and a oe elsewhere. Each cue is or should coastructed so that it will balance in the lighter —— anes some bo sree is given. Present fashion consists in bead-like mouldings that assist the hand in its . But the most expensive cues are ‘arenmenied somle- thing like _ Ro successive curving color; an ese are formed of inlays of colored wood so perfectly joined that they look more like enamels or lustrous ‘TRE Game. Billiards are rather @ polite accomplishment THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. increase of sudden ts of the heart which bowl a man over before he knows any- thing is the matter with him, and these are at- tributed to the newly-acquired taste for exer- Gay, attributed bis ine beac ama increasing ing y> is fine cares, to the fact that he took ho exercise, quoted Mr. Evarts, whose health in » long and busy life hag been phenomenally good, in sup- port of the same conclusion. PROVISIONS FOR EXERCISE. Still the tide goes the other way. Most busy men make some provision in their scheme of life for exercise. Dumb-bells and Indian clubs are found in most bath-rooms. Mr. Andrew Carnegie has a pulling machine for getting his muscles in trim. Numbers crowd the athletic clubs; the boy’s schools and now the girl's schools are introducing gymnasiums with trapezes and turning bars. Some few private houses include gymnasiums. Mr. W. K. Van- derbilt has @ private gymnasium above his | banqueting room. This was suggested by the construction of the banqueting room, the ceil- ing of which is hung from the roof. The spaces above through which the trusses extend seemed valueless except for this purpose, for which the beams and supports fitted exactly. Accordingly the usual equipments of a private inasium are found here and it isa royal place for roller skating and velocipede exercise for the younger people. A PRIVATE SKATING RINK. You do not often get a chance to see a sugar broker dance, as Mr. W. 8. Gilbert has aptly remarked. We do more often see a man skate whose income, it is alleged, is $16,000,000. Nor does Mr. John D. Rockafeller intend that he should be seen in his favorite pastime, for a high board fence now shuts in the refreshing green that used so agreeably to lie exposed for the benefit of tired town eyes on each side of his house, and aiso screens his private skating rink. This is not for roller skating, but is an ice rink, and is intended primarily for Mr. Rockafeller’s own diversion. Here in the win- ter he skates every morning before going down town and is joined usually by some of his busi- ness friends. There are skating classes for the misses and daughters who do not skate, and ail the provisions for a merry time. It 1s doubtful if out of Russia another man gratifies his taste in this particular way, and there is somethin, delightfally naive in’ man so fatally ric Prosecuting his boynood tastes and skill in this ingenious manner in the neart of a city. ADDICTED TO THE ROWING MACHINE, Another man who takes his exercise under exceptionally happy circumstances, and in a novel manner, is Dr. F. N. Otis. He is addicted to the rowing machine, which furnishes an admurable exercise, but is really a great stretch on one’s dignity. The idea of sitting up ina dry room and pulling with any heartiness on oars that never touch water requires more imagination than most men are willing to ex- pend in the mere pursuit of health. But Dr. Utis assists the delusion, that it is really neces- sary to give the tirst impetus to the bloo® stirring current by having the end of the room toward which he iooks as he pulls on his oars filled with a large painting. This is a Lake George landscape painted for this especial pur- pose by Mr. Homer Martin. Mr. Mar‘in has imagination enough and charm of touch suffi- cient toexpand the walls and glorify the ball- room which Dr. Otis has dedicated to his rec- reation. And Dr, Otis has imugination or he could never have devised so happy an expe- dient. And so as he sits and rows he has daily the illusory delight of pulling out from the lovely shores of one of the loveliest of all lovely lakes, Mary Gay Humpnreys. aS os alte MOUNTAIN AIK FOR HORSES. A Novel Reason for Spokane’s Speed— Effects of Montana’s Atmosphere. From the Salt Lake Tribune. The winning of the Kentucky derby and Clark stakes at Louisville by a mountain horse is an event which will set the far east and the far west to studying a new problem in horse breed- ing. It has long been settled in the minds of the horsemen in this intermountain region, but it will be anew thing to the Blue Grass and California valley horse raisers. The climate of California is not more favorable to the rapid growth of colts than that of Montana. If the winters are not quite so severe, the summers are far more prostrating. Then the food in Montana—the grass, hay and grain—is far superior to that of the California valleys. With these conditions on the sea level the Mon- tana horses would have the advantage. But Spokane was bred and raised several thousand feet above the sea. He has lived all his life in alight atmosphere. The consequence is that his lungs are half as big again as they would have been had he been raised in Kentucky or in any of the coast valleys of California, So when taken from home to Kentucky and bo inarace with valley-bred colts the same ifference was realized that would be were two engines, each, say, of forty-horse power, put to an extreme test, with one driven by a forty- horse power boiler and the other by a sixty- horse power boiler. When men from a valle: &, up a mountain they are quickly exhausted. When men from the mountain go down to the seashore for several days they feel as though they had about them a buoyancy which pre- vented their feet from getting down to the ground, In one case men cannot get the needed oxygen; in the other they have such a surplus that it amounts to half intoxication. We believe that 1,000 mountain miners have been arrested in San Francisco for too much hilarity. solely because with their expanded lungs filled with the dense airof the sea level they without comprehending anything except they felt an indiscribable joyousness, were impelled by an irrepressible impulse to paint the town crimson. That is the way Spokane felt at Louisville, and that is why he easily took from Proctor Knott all chance for his friends to make ex- cuses for him by lowering the record two sec- onds. It does not prove that he is by nature a better horse than Proctor Knott. The chances are that with the same treatment the Kentucky horse may beat the mountain horse before the season is over, after the lungs of the latter shall have become adjusted to the Kentucky level. But just as a mountain Indian can out- run @ valley Indian, a mountain horse when first taken to the valley is a most dangerous competitor for a valley-raised horse. The one matter of the difference in the lung power of the horses the chief difference, but, at the same time, the difference of food must likewise be considered. There is no country that raises superior grass and hay to Montana; no coun- try where through the long summer the reed keeps more nutritious, the climate more brac- ing, or where animals are troubled less by in- sects; and, while the winters are cold, it is not a cold that reduces vitality. The east and west will have to lovk out im the future for moun- tain colts, ——____.e0—__ THE FINDING OF THE LAOCOON. Whether it is the Original ora Copy may Never be Determined. From the Magazine of Art. The Laocoon may be the original statue be- praised by Pliny, but even that is open to doubt. The history of the finding of this statue was in this wise: It happened in 1506, when Raphael, a youth of three-and-twenty, was painting in Florence. In the month of June a messenger arrived in hot haste at the vatican to tell Pope Julius II that workmen excavating in a vineyard near St. Maria Maggiore had come upon statues. Tho pope turned to one of his grooms and bif him run to his architect, Giu- liano di San Gallo, to tell him to go there at once and see about it. San Gullo instantly had his horse saddled, took his young son Fran- cisco, who relates this, on the crupper behind him, and called for Michel Angelo, and away the three trotted through the hot and dusty streets, as we may ine, in a great state of excitement. When y reached the place they beheld that agonized face which we all know so weil, and which many of us have tried to copy so often. “It is the Laocoon of Pliny!” exclaimed San Gallo. Mad with excitement, they urged on the workmen, a great hole was cleared away, and they were able to contemplate that won- derful group, certainly the finest monument of antiquity which had as yet been revealed to the modern world. After this, as Francisco says, they went home to dinner. How they must have talked! We can the wife her bora: "Dear Giale crying d iringly to paveny be leave off tal for a moment, dinner should like to have is getting quite cold!” been there; but that is idle. ‘The statue was transferred to the Belvedere, and thenarose the question, was it Pliny’s Laccoon or a copy?/—a question not decided to this day. Pliny says that the statue was carved by Agesander, Polydorus and Athenodorus of Hhodes out ofa sivgie block of marble. The Laocoon isin five pieces, but very skilfully The stranger in New York city was talking earnestly and excitedly to the hotel clerk. “Iam a remarkably heavy sleeper,” he said, “and often lie abed hours and hours after everybody else is up. Promise me,” he en- treated, as his face grew pale with fear, “that ifl — vated until noon to-mor- row Your city physicians THE STRAWBERRY CROP. a A LITERARY VENTURE. ‘Waysto Prepare, Serve and Preserve} Mrs. Lovell always maintained that the ter- this Delicious Berry. REASONS WHY IN THEIR ABUNDANCE THEY HAVE BEEN INFERIOR—WHAT HAS BEEN AND WHAT MAY BE EXPECTED—VARIOUS AND DAINTY WATS OF SERVING STRAWBERRIES—SHORTCAKE, This week has practically seen the straw- berry season at its best. The promise of an abundant crop as noted by Taz Stan awhile ago was liberally fulfilled, but the unprece- dented wet weather proved most injurious to the quality. In consequence of the indications of better weather it is probable that the com- ing week will bring with it the best of the strawberry season, though they may not be so abundant asthey have been. They will not be so scarce, however, as to materially inter- fere with their cheapness, and the prudent housekeeper should lay in her supply for future use. The season has not been propi- tious for putting up strawberries, and much of it will be done in the next ten days. There were a great many very fine aud delicious ones on the market, but there were a at many more that belied their rich temp’ redness when it came to the eating. bd rule one part was over ripe, while the points were hard, green and distasteful. This was caused by the parts exposed to the air and sun, when that orb condescended to shine awhile, ripening before the lower portion, which hung next to, if not upon the wet, soggy ground. The wet weather taste prevailed, and all were more or less sandy and gritty. Some, however, raised on high ground,and which were carefully looked after, were unusually fine, and sold at fancy prices, Some of the Sharpless variety, thirteen of which made a quart, sold at 45 cents per quart, while very good ones, comparatively, went at 10 cents a quart, or three quarts for 25 cents, During the favorable days of this week strawberries were retailing at as low as 5 centsa quart, six for 25 cents, while at wholesale some went at 1 cent a uart on a very slow market. Indeed, some of the commission merchants were glad to get rid of them atany price. At times hundreds of crates, all near-by berries, were ie up along the streets in front of the stores fairly begging for buyers. Hundreds upon hundreds of boxes were thrown away. The berries of next week promise to be of better quality and more desirable for pre- serving, canning or otherwise preparing for next winter's use. SERVING THE STRAWBERRY. The easiest way, of course, of serving straw- berries, and to many the most desirabie way, is merely that of sweetening with sugar. Form- erly, it was universally the custom to eat them with good rich cream, and that custom now largely prevails, but it is claimed to be more healthful to take them without. At any rate they should be as freshly gathered from the vines as possible. It is never advisable to put freshly picked strawberries on ice, but if they have been gathered a day or more it may be an advantage to them tobe placed ona tray or dish and placed in a refrigerator for an hour or so, and then stemmed and sugared just before serving. Itis a dainty idea, and a very pretty one, to serve them in their green caps, in cunning little dishes or small receptacles of odd and fanciful shapes, so often used for bon-bons at winter entertainments. They are then taken by the cap or stem with the hand, dipped into pul- verized sugar, and eaten singly. STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE. The popularity of strawberry shortcake is only excelled by its latitude of construction. Nearly every cook has a way of his or her own, and it goes without saying that it is a mghty poor way that has not patrons enough to sweep the platter clean, A very palatable method of making the shortcake is to take one quart of flour, add half a level Lrg aterabey of salt, three heaping teaspoonfuls of baking powder and sift three times or stir thoroughly with a spoon. Work a level tablespoonful of butter into the flour and mnke into adough with one pint of milk; roll the dough until it is not more than one- eighth of an ingh thick; cut it in two equal parts, rub the topof one piece with butter, using the butter freely, and place the second upon it; cut it into cakes with a cutter about 4 inches in diameter and bake quickly. When baked the cakes should come apart at a touch, Prepare the strawberries by removing the caps, and when ready to serve, and not before, cut into pieces with a spoon, sweeten to taste, and place between and on top of each cake. One cake should be served to each person. Some use cream; others do not. For those who prefer it wath cream a very tasteful way of making it is to sweeten one quart of berries, crush them and then work through a sieve au beat in one pint ot very thick cream and serve as above, A most delicious strawberry cake, though not a strawberry shortcake, is made’ by pre- paring any kind of cake dough preferred; use small pans; place in each enough of the dough to cover the bottom; set in the dough, point down, as many small sized berries as can be placed without touching each other; drop a pinch of pulverized sugar on each berry and put over them a spoonful of dough. While the cakes are baking ina moderate oven make a very stiff frosting of the white of eggs and sugar. When the cakes are nearly done re- move from the oven; spread the tops thickly with the frosting and set init large straw- berries; remove the caps from each berry as it is put in the cakes, large end down, and return to the oven five minutes. There is something about this dish so pleasing itcan hardly im- prove upon acquaintance, OTHER WAYS OF SERVING, Here is another dish that captivates the palates of the connoisseur, Remove the caps from one pint of berries, sugar and set them away for an hour; then crush them and work through a sieve. elt over the fire one half ounce of gelatine which has been soaking in barely enough water to cover it; when melted add two tablespoonfuls of sugar and the juice of one lemon; boil two minutes; then pour through the sieve into the bowl of berries, beat thoroughly; whip half a pint of thick cream, stir lightly into the berries and turn intoa form. Set away onice untilcold. Whenready to serve dip the form into hut water, turn the contents out on a dish and serve with or with- out crggm. The strawberry pyramid is another not only effective but very palatable way of serving the berry. Put four quarts of water over a fire; when it boils sprinkle m gradually one pint of best Carolina rice well washed. Do this so slowly that it will not stop the boiling, or if it does stop and stir now and then until the boil- ing resumes. Let it boil rapidly thirty or forty minutes, then skim out and place in athin layer of the rice ‘upon a plate having smooth edges. Upon tbis place a layer of strawberries, and so on, making each layer smaller, leaving a line of the berries around the outside of each layer in the form of a pyramid. If the berries are sweet and tender no sweetening will be needed, otherwise put sugar upon each layer as the: are putin, and then set in an oven to scal; through. ‘Then finish off with a spray of ber- ries at the top ond decorate around the bottom with strawberry leaves. If more sauce is re- quired strawberry juice sweetened may be DAINTY AND DELICIOUS, For the epicure who draws the line on the simple ways of eating strawberries the follow- ing methods are suggested: Chop fine three pints of berries, add half a pound of pulverized sugar, and let the berries stand until the sugar draws out the juice; then beat in the juice one lemon, half pint of white wine, and the frosted white of two eggs. This may be served in small deep dishes or glasses, like frappe, and makes a nice addition to the luncheon table or dessert. A pleasant-tasted strawberry ice is made by chooging. two quarts of berries, add two pounds of sugar; after they have stood one hour strain off the juice, add to this one pint of water and the juice of two lemonsand freeze in e cream freezer. A DELIGHTFUL SUMMER DRINK. Next to raspberry, strawberry vinegar makes one of the most cooling and delightful of sum- mer beverages, Take the berries as fresh as possible, gathered in dry weather, weigh and ut into e glass jars and to each pound Rbout @ pint and a half of fine i tirely colorless kind sold as distilled vinegar, though that may be used with [ries effect, thick paper over them and let remain three or four , then pour off the vinegar and empty the into a Jelly bag or suspend rible business of her novel and the dire pains and penalties that resulted from it were én- tirely due to the bishop of Crowborough, and to the bishop alone. She admitted she was en- couraged by Anthony Trolloye and other liter- ary swells, who all wrote articles proving con- vineingiy that literature was the easiest and most lucrative trade in the world if you only hit the right vein, but it was the bishop who first started her on that untoward literary ven- ture, Every time she told the story (and dur- ing the subsequent thirty years of her life she certainly told it a hundred times) she deepened the turpitude of the bishop and the blood- thirsty character of his conduct until her hus- band, the Rev. Aubrey Lovell (a hilarious country rector, with a tremendous voice), would shout out in his genial way: “‘Now, Nel- lie, my love, the bishop had really very little to do with it, and behaved very nicely, I thi it wae all your ridiculous vanity and greed.” It is necessary to clear the ground by telling you something of the bishop and Mrs. Lovell. The bishop of Crowborough was the oldest pre- late on the bench. He was appointed to the seein the days when a scholarly edition of Juvenal or Euripides was a most direct road to a mitre, His appointment dated so far back in the past that no one living exactly knew what par- ticular service to scholarship obtained for Dr. Octavius Mackereth the see of Crowborough. He had held it for forty-five years, and for the greater portion of that period the bishop had been engaged on a gigantic book, a profound but little-read history of the monks of the Thebaid, a volume appearing at intervals of about six years. As no one ever bought the book, far less read it, the publication cost the learned author a small fortune. The bishop was not only a celibate, but a confirmed woman-hater, or, per- haps, one might say a woman ignorer—he seemed to realize the sex with an effort. What one may call the woman motif occurred regu- larly once in the life of each of his Thebaid monks, but they were all mere dream women, emissaries of Satan sent in vision to tempt that particular monk back to the pomps and vanities of the world. This, the bishop perceived, was evidently the chief function of woman. Mean- while, the bishop being permanently engaged inthe Libyan desert, the diocese fell intoa lamentable state of decay; dissent flour- ished and waxed fat, yea, ‘even under the shadow of the cathedral itself. Twice a year the bishop emerged from _ historical research and gave a reception at the pal- ace, but, of course, as he had no wife, no ladies came. The bishop never had the least idea how many of his clergy would come and made random preparations of a helpless kind, the fare provided being of the meagerest de- scription. Some stringy sandwiches, some weak negus, and parboiled tea formed the episcopal menu. The high church clergy struggled fiercely for the negus and the low church lapped up the weak tea. Nobody under the rank of a prebend had the least chance of securing a spoon to himself. The bishop was practically a stranger to four-fifths of his clergy. At the beginning of these lamentable receptions he tried to identify his guests and say something appropriate to each; but he soon gave that task up and adopted a stereo- typed kindiy smile to accompany each hand- shake, This was afar safer plan, as the poor bishop hada dreadful habit of cheerfully in- quiring after newly-buried wives; and to. this lay they tell the story of his asking old Canon* Jeukins after his wife when all the diocese yas ringing with the news of her elopement wih his curate. So much for the bishop, now for Mrs, Lovell. She was a woman of about forty, the ordinary healthy type of English matron, quite 1gnorant of art ena Mesceaee but entirely satisfied with herself, her children and husband. She was ambitious in a kindly way. and tried to push her husband up in the world, but this pushing business was a herculean task, for her excellent husband was quite without any upward tend- encies, being of the steady, slow, easygoing order, that quietly holds on and always ends in being an archdeacon. As regards herself, Mrs, Loveil used to say: “I don’t pretend to be clever or learngd, but I do consider I write a yery good let- ter.” She said this so often and with such an air of conviction that all her friends grew to think so too. Now, there was a grain of truth in this claim. She wrote a thoroughly reckless, rat- tling, feminine letter; she could not have de- scribed 4 sunset or a landscape to save her life, but give her a bit of village gossip and she would dress and touch it up till it became a very lifelike and amusing sketch; then she touched off all her friends’ peculiariti with such a good-natured und lively pen that every one said when they heard a letter of hers read aloud: ‘What a very amusing person that Mrs, Lovell must be!” . It happened just about now ‘that, by an odd chance, the bishop’s brother, who was an old literary bachelor living in the Albany, went on a visit of three days to the palace at Crowbor- ough. The brothers became dimly conscious of each other's existence about once in five years, then the bishop asked the Albany bachelor to visit Crowborough, and the latter went, al- ways limiting his stay to exactly three days; he used to say at the athenwu: The first day is chastened affection, the second indifference and weariness, the third hatred and despair; if I staid a fourth I should murder the bishop or die myself.” During his visit he purepen into the bishop all the gossip of the clubs and all the literary news, though of course neither the one nor the other mixed at all well with the monks of the Thebaid; but the Albany brother said it was his duty to post the bishop up to date. It was just at this time that the “Life of George Eliot” ap- ared, The bishop had the very vaguest of notions as to George Eliotand her achievements, but he knew that she was a woman, though {t puz- zled him beyond measure why a woman should assume @ man’s name. That a woman should write books was one astonishing fact; that any one should read them was another; and the third and most astonish- ing fact of all was that any publisher should ay £7,000, as his brother assured him had aad paid for one of her books. The bishop’s experience of publishers and the public was so altogether different. The week after the Albany brother left, the bishop, by the most unusual combination of circumstances, had to go to lunch at Mr. Lov- ell’s to meet another bishop; he loathed that other bishop, who was a stirring, enthusiastic creature of quite modern creation and very modern ideas. He hated, too, the very thought of the lunch, but he had to go. How to provide polite con- versation for two hours the bishop did not know. Soas he drove along he tried to recall a few topics that might be epreoneiate and in- teresting, and he endeavored to recollect and make use of the London gossip his brother had told him, but the scle thing he could recall was a few details about George Eliot, and chiefly that she actually had had £7,000 for writing one book. He launched this fact at Mrs, Lovell’s head, he dilated upon it, he returned to it again and again. It had astonished the bishop, and it astonished Mrs, Lovell. When the bishop had left Mrs, Lovell sat and thought. Seven thousand pounds for one book! Why, the bishop only got £4,000 for being a bishop,and it was nearly eighteen times as much asher husband’s entire stipend. Mrs, Lovell slept upon the idea, and the next day it had grown and developed. She had a ready pen— what if she wrote a book and got £7,000 for it? She locked the idea in her matronly bosom. Her excellent husband had very old-fashioned no- ne about —— Gee meer pee Once 1 put out a feeler, and challen; ‘is admi- ration for George Eliot, ‘The rector blinked at her with his big blue eyes. “What's that, my love?” he said. ‘Thank Heaven I haven’t married one of your scrib- women; there’s only one bling worse, and that’s the political woman.” “But, my dear Aubrey, the and field of women are enlarging so rapidly.” “Now, my pi bc ie rector, in his hilarious “don’t talk non- trumpet-toned voice, sense. Sly mmcther was the bet of women, and | @ great Lest od field were the looking after her # mentary details of suitable paper, writing on one side only, and so on. Re agion gone so far as to concoct in her hend an outline of a plot—it was a mere skeleton of a plot—but she thought to herself she would develop it as she wenton. The next morning she arranged her table suitably for writing. She opened her took out the lined foolscap paper, and set to work. She said to herself. My hero shall be forty-five. and he shall marry a merry girl of twenty; after mi & good-looking cousin of hers, aged Sawtin al Pompotoes love to her, and all but bring about a catastrophe. I shall introduce a designing widow and two or three subordinate characters to fill up. She plunged at once into chapter 1, but found her ideas did not come as quickly as she h 3 it was uothing like as easy as writing a letter. She wrote for an hour, read it all over, and tore itup in despair. Then she tried again, and found herself at a dead pause for something to say. She sat with her head on her hand, rack- ing her brains, but nothing came; then, sud- deuly, she dropped her pen and clapped her ands, “Goodness me!” she cried, ‘why Aunt Jane, when she gave us drawing lessons, used to say. ‘Remember, my dears, always’ draw from nature, go straight to life.’ I will; why invent?” And she did. She wanted a clergyman, and down she pounced upon the shop of Crow- borough. She lifted him bodily into ber book. She changed him into a dean, but all his little peculiarities she retained and gave thema touch or two more. Her pen flew and the pages quickly filled; she read over the descrip- tion of the dean and his sayings and doings, and she leaned back and laughed at the intense yitality of the thing. Then there was a Mrs. Marchmont in the next paris! ihe would ex- actly do for the designing widow. Mrs. Lovell hated her with a consuming hbetred. Mrs. Marchmont dressed better than she did, had taken precedence of her on several occasions, and had patronized her openly before all the country; besides, she had many weak points, there were some little questionable matters in her career, scandal had not spared her and cer- tainly Mrs. Lovell would not. Mrs. March- mont appeared as Lady Holloway, but in all other respects it was a photograph from life. In her parish there were two excellent old maids, the best of creatures—a little rigid, very quaint in dress, with pretty little affectations, and one with a remote longing for gentlemen's attentions. Mrs. Lovell had put them into many a letter, and they both went bodily into her book. Having adopted this method, to her delight and surprise Mrs, Lovell found all went merry as a wedding bell; after all, once master of the method, and it was just as easy to write a novel as to write a letter, and letter-writing always had been her strong point. For some weeks she worked hard at the book; it amused and interested her. She had a little bit of money, something under £100, put by in con- sols, and that she intended to devote to the expenses of publishing the book. She called it ‘A Midsummer Madness.” We may pass over the record of how she got @ publisher, and the labors and difficulties she had with proofs and revises. The greatest difficulty of all was to keep the rector in the dark; luckily he was the most inobservant of men. He saw masses of papers coming by post, and set it down his mind as new ufusic, He observed that his dear Nellie was always writ- ing, but he merely said, ‘Really, my wife’s cor- respondence is enormous, and I don't wonder at it, for she writes and excellent letter.” Our story reopens some six months later on. Every morning she now expected an advance copy from the publishers. She always came down before breakfast and swooped down on the letters and parcels, and at last this 10th day of June brought the long-desired copy. There it was, in the three orthodox volumes, 31s. 6d. in price, dainty in binding, nice big margins, and good print and paper. She opened the title page and read with a bounding heart, A Midsummer Madness. A novel. By Mrs Aubrey Lovell.” Then she dipped here and there into her favorite bits—that droll scene where the two old maids encounter the designing widow; really it was humorous and had lots of go in it, Mrs. Lovell laughed aloud. Then the love scene in the old garden, and the despair and madness of the hero; then that pathetic death- bed scene, how true and real it seemed. Really Mrs. Lovell felt if George Eliot walked into the room now she should have claimed her as a sister artist. . Meanwhile, the rector came noisily down stairs and entered the room witha bang. ‘Hullo, my love, anybody's birthday? I see a parcel of new books that look like presents.” “No. dear,” she answered, “only the last new novel;” then, blushing furiously, “it looks rather nice.” To his wife's disgust the rector did not ex- hibit the least curiosity about the last new novel, Ah, she thought, if only he knew, wouldn’t he be proud of his wife? but he act- ually ignored the three pretty blue volumes, and stretched out his hand for his Guardian, Then Mrs. Lovell brought matters to a head by saying: “Tell me what you think of the new novel,” Thereupon the rector drove his wife to the verge of distraction by his exceeding slowness; first of all he couldn't find his glasses, then began a long history as to a letter in the Guardian about Queen Anne’s Bounty, then wasted another five minutes in polishing up his glasses; ultimately he took up Vol. 1. and read in his sonorous voice, ‘A Midsummer Madness. By Mrs, Aubrey Lovell.” “Goodness gracious me, Nellie! Why, it’s by a namesake of yours: they'll be putting it down to you.” “It is me,” said Mrs, Lovell, being too thrilled to think of grammar. “You!” replied her husband, dropping the book with « bang, and no number oF. marks of admiration can convey the surprise he put into his voice; he took off his glasses and rubbed them again. Then she told him how the bishop had sown the seed in her aspiring bosom, and this was the full harvest. “Well, my love, of course I knew you wrote a good letter, and had a ready pen, buta three- volume novel I did think beyond your pow- ers.” She was well content when he took the whole three volumes into his study. She had ex- (eee he would have abused her for wasting er time and ordered her back to domestic duties, but he had been so surprised and taken aback that he had half blessed intead of en- tirely banning her. During the morning Mrs, Lovell was gratified by hearing hearty peals of laughter from her husband's study, and at lunch he said, ‘‘Really, my dear, your book is extremely good, but you've made frightfully free with our poor dear bishop. I only hope he won't come across it.” “Oh, I’ve disguised it well,” she answered; “T have only used a few of his peculiarities.” Mrs. Lovell subscribed to Romeike’s agency, and for the next few weeks she had a very jolly time; the press notices were fairly favorable— all the critics thought the plot exceedingly poor, but the bishop, the widow’ and the two old maids were greatly praised. Evidently drawn from life, one or two critics said. Then Mrs. Lovell had the joyof presenting her friends with copies of her book, and altogether her poor head was like to be turned with suc- cess, Her publishers were very well content, too, and said the book was making its mark. Her husband basked in the reflected glow of her fame, and began to be proud of his wife. One day at breakfast Mrs, Lovell said: “Here is an appreciative review of the book in the leading society paper; that makes the seventeenth flattering notice I have had.” Of course ‘the book” was her book, there being only one book in the world to her then. Her husband did not answer, for he was ab- sorbed in letter; she knew by the way he stirred his tea as he read it that he was not leased. J “My dear,” he said, ‘I’m afraid you and your book have got me intoascrape. Here is the bishop writing, he seems exceedingly aaeee? She took the letter and read it. The bishop evidently was exceedingly wroth. The letter was to the effect that Mrs. Lovell’s book had been forwarded to him, and his at- tention drawn tothe character of the dean. It was beyond all question that the character was intended for himself. He then spoke of the bad taste and want of coi shown, Toward the end of the letter the bishop gave himself rein, and wrote of it ali as a gross breach of ecclesiastical tte. He then pointed out the necessit the withdrawal of the 5 = even remotely hinted at proceedings be: en. ‘As she vead the letter ‘s heart sank within her; her husband had the baseness to say he had warned her she had taken & t liberty with the bisho “It is true,” she said, harl back to the old excuse, ‘that I have used a few of his pecu- liarit butI have changed names and wrRbesensel, Wrapped it up! Why, there ian't “Nonsense! Wray a Q i paton en all Nnrgloa buch eoala Rao ani ——— And now, what do you propose to 2 Li Ha alt i i F : i Ei i D.C, SATURDAY, JUNE 8, 1889-TWELVE PAGEs. had the very vaguestidea as to what “steps’ might mean; for aught she knew they might refer to achancery suit, premunire, or proceed- ings at the Old Bailey; it might mean all.or any of these frightful measures. All this took ow enn pee she did not dare to tell her usband, butat lunch he had seen the Social Notes and read it for himself, It took a deal to rouse the rector, but undoubtedly he was roused now. He said dreadful things to his wife. Lunch was a most uncomfortable meal. Mrs. Lovell sank as low as a woman could sink; she ended by settling in her heart that she would brobably be torn from her home and flung into prison. “She anathematized the un- lucky day on which she first determined to be famous, and she doomed the bishop, who had first fired her ambition, to nethermost hades, At 4 o'clock the front door bell rang. and the maid brought in Mrs. Marchmont's card; the card was followed by that lady herself, almost before the maid had closed the door. She ad- dressed Mrs. Lovel in a markedly hostile man- ner, beginning by saying: ‘Perhaps you would have known me better if Thad sent in my name as Lady Holloway?" Mrs. Lovell, in describ. ing that call afterward, always said it turned ber bair gray inasxingle hour. Mrs. March- mont was nota indy-like person at her best, but when roused she had a fluent vocabulary at her command, and she poured it out on Mra, Lovell. That t lady felt the cup of her bit- terness was full. To sit in your own drawing- room and be abused was more than human na- ture could bear; to be told by a loudly-dressed, red-faced virago that you were no better than &@ mean, contemptible serpent, crawling into the bosoms of contiding families and betraying them, was exceedingly trying to all the Chris- tian virtues; she moved as if to- ward the larchmont checked her by sayin, this room till I've had my say.” Village gossip said afterward that Mrs. Marchmont threatened to horsewhip her; but Mrs. Lovell denied that, and said she never went beyond shaking her fist in her face. To end it all, not content with frightening the poor lady almost into a fit, she wound ap with, “And don't you fancy you're done with me, for Til have the law on you, and you'll hear from my lawyer before the week is out,” and with that she banged the door and departed, That was Tuesday; on Wednesday two ladies drove up to the rectory; peeping through the drawing-room curtains Mre. Lovell deseried the two Miss Stonchams. She heard a muffled conversation with the maid, ending with an emphatic statement by the elder Miss Stone- ham, “Thank you, we decline to see Mra. Lovell; we wish to see her husband”—hearing which Mrs. Lovell sank on a sofa and felt her latter end had come, and the sooner it was over the better. For half an hour she re- mained on that sofa while the Miss Stonehams interviewed her husband, then they departed and she heard his step crossing the hall. As he came toward the drawing-room she says she felt like the trapped thing who hears the hunter coming down the path. Speech failed the rector at first; he wrung his hands and vaguely uttered a wish to emigrate or die; he then made pathetic reference to those two Christian ladies, held up to a scofting public by a scurrilous, scribbling woman. he Miss Stonehams were the virtuous women and she the scurrilous libeler, He went on in this strain for half an hour, until excess of misery brought its own relief, and suddenly Mrs. Lov- ell jumped up from the sofa and swore she didn’t care for all the bishops on the bench, nor all the vulgar widows or crabby old maids in Christendom; she'd written a book andshe'd stick to it, and that was her ultimatum. It is very difficult to say “ultimatum” when you're on the verge of hysterics, but she said it, and then tore up to her room and had a good ery, Next day came a letter from her publishers, These ghastly people rejoiced over the hideous publicity of the book—it was making quite a ferment in society, there was an excellent arti- cle on “literary cut-throats” in the Saturday, and they heard there were rumors of two actions about to be commenced against Mrs, Lovell; from a commercial standpoint they thought nothing could be more promising, and they were ,rinting a second edition in all haste, The next day a quict semi-clerical gentleman called at the vicarage and asked to see Mrs, Lovell; the maid said she fancied he was from @ missionary society. Mrs. Lovell received him in the drawing-room and found him pleasant and fair spoken, until he handed her an official- looking document and explained that it was a writ “re Marchmont vs. Lovell.” A mist swam before the unhappy lady's eyes; she heard him as ina dream apologizing for having to serve her with the writ in person and not through the ordinary channel of her solicitor, but he re- gretted to say his client had a good deal of personal feeling in the matter and had insisted, much to his regret. on personal service. When the rector returned from some paro- chiai visits he found Mrs. Lovell and her official document lying side by side on the bed; when he grasped the situation anger against her was swallowed up in real pity for her and no less real alarm for himself. Before he knew where he was he was plunged into litigation. His ideas moved slowly, and it was a good twelve hours before he realized the real position of matters. The bishop had cut him dead in the streets of Crowborough; as he walked about of an apology and | Thi his own parish he could not but perceive there was a marked feeling in the village against him; the two Miss Stonehams had declined to attend his church any longer and canceled all their subscriptions; Mrs. Marcumont had stirred up the local press, and there were dreadful articles and letters; and now here, to wind up all, was an action commenced and damages to the tune of £1,000 claimed. He in- structed his family solicitor to enter an appear- ance and then waited results. Mrs. Lovell said for many weeks after this existence became a nightmare: she dreaded every post and every knock at the door, ‘Then to add to her troubles,two cousins wrote and de- clared that, not content with vilifying outsid- ers, they found that she had not even respected the ties of natural affection, and had actually brought her own flesh and blood into her book. Cousin Selina suffered from indigestion, and had occasionally a red nose, but that was no reason why she and her slight constitutional infirmity should be made the subject of Mrs. Lovell’s reckless pen. Cousin Barbara was ner- vous, looked under her bed at night, and lived in the perpetual fear of burglars; but she ob- jected to have her little weakness advertised far and near. But Mrs. Lovell had, as it were, fought with wild beasts at Ephesus, in the shape of the bishop and Mrs, Marchmont, and she felt equal to cope with such small game as the cousins, She took pen in hand and demon- strated to Selina and Barbara that there were hundreds of ladies in England suffering from red noses and timorous views on burglars, and, and if they elected to put on the cap they might. When the family solicitor came and ques- tioned Mrs. Lovell if she would swear that Lady Holloway was not meant for Mrs. March- mont or if the character were not drawn from her she refused point blank. “I can’t and won't, for it was,” she answered in despair. Picture the position: There was tthe bishop lowering tx Ms palace; Mia Maaab- mont romping about the neighborhood in her pony carriage, her face redder and her hair yellower than ‘ever; then if Mrs. Lovell ven- tured into the village she was sure to meet the Miss Stonehams, and they always crossed the street and treated her as if she had the plague. Things came to such a pitch that her sister at Hunstanton, in sheer pity, asked: her to go there for a month for change and Before she left home she gavegave her hue- band carte blanche to do as he liked, “only let us once more get e and quiet.” Goaded and roused into-activity, the rector rushed up to London and stopped the book just as the third edition was being issued; he had a great battle with the publishers, but the book was suppressed and withdrawn. He then went on tolis lawyers and told them to compromise and end the actions. “I will the bishop,” he said, “if you'll see to that awful Mrs. +hmont.” lawyer protested, just as the pulishers had protested; it was literally nipping in the bud an action that might have developed into a cause célébre, Meanwhile Mrs. Lovell was sitting in sack- i i i E | i i it ie Eg i i ie Fl) i ; ; cs t i ! i i E ; { ‘ literary venture. Her husband recognize the salient features at many itions even these outline, and the blame was bishop's shoulder, and all iterary carrer I should ‘achieved — second only to George Eliot hewealt ————90—__ FASHIONS FOR THE FAIR. Novelties that Will be Worn at the Springs and Seashore. Liont Svuxrx silks are trimmed with pinked ruches of the material. New Sasues are of soft silk with wide satin borders and fringed ends. To Wean Suoes the same color as the dress makes a person look taller. Tus Puixcess Gown, either short or trained, is the robe of the day in Paris, “Wrrom Strtcn” is the newest craze of the crewel-and-silk-floss young woman. Vaxprke Cottars, with long points falling over the shoulders, are coming in vogue. ‘Tur Srriisa mode of making a silk gown is to have it of two shades of the same color. ‘The Lone Petisse, the Connemara cloak and the bonne the tonne femme mantle are the leading long The Barrep and plaided mohairs in light and bright colors are in high favor for little girls’ frocks, Movsriise pr Sor, made up over silk, is used for summer resort toilets and bridesmaids’ gowns. Bretox Exprorpenr. worked in fine wools of bright colors on white cloth bands, is a fash- ionablo dress garniture, A Great Dear of coarse-meshed silk net, made up over a contrast color, is for watering-place gowns.” — Braces or Riszox, finished with shoulder knots and waist ribbons, are shown as garni- tures for summer corsages. Tar Haxpsomest of new spring costumes are made of plain fine wool sparingly trimmed with the richest possible garnitures, THE SUMMER STOCKING par excellence is of fine black lisle thread, with toes, heels and upper half of the leg all in white. Tue Latest Fancy in neck lingerie is the deep falling plisse and the narrow upright ruche of sulpbur-yellow gauze. A Maoniricent new silk iscalled damask matlasse, aud has the flowers in h though heavily embroidered thy papas Some sew Ricu gowns for afternoon or re- — wear have trained skirts under trained polonaises that open ali down the front, Sasnes, Taoven Exnierrep in every fabric, are now very generally of the softe: and frequently of the same silk as the dress. Pretty Srexcenrs, blouses, and Garibaldis in surah silk, veiling, China silk, and taffeta are sold in all the shops, to be worn with any kind of a skirt, Tuer Lonc, Strarout Scart Maxtux, woru = the shoulders and falling to the hem of e dress in frout, is reviv pape lg evived among other wraps Jackets ake Never Ovt or Fasmrox. This season they have deep revers and sleeves fall above the ‘elbow, but they are not worn with dressy toilets, Maxy Scammer Dresses for street wear are without the high collars so long in vogue. They are finished instead with a fall of lace, Empire plaiting or an Eton collar. Brack Gowns are generally relieved with touches of color here and there. Embroidery in soft, dull cashmere tints is the best thing wherewith to brighten them. Onaxor-coroneD Mome is used by fashion- able dressmakers both here and abroad asa garniture for pale cream-white wool gowns, veilings, India cashmeres, &c. Tur Haxpsome Trarvep Reprxcorrs, mado to wear with skirts of different color and stuff, must be lined either to match the skirt or else with a color in harmony with it. Tue Warreav Frat of fine, yellow Leghorn, shaped wide in front and narrow at the back, with many dents and bends and a big wreath of flowers, is the hat of the season. New Wasuixo Sixks, though closely woven, are soft and pliable. They are used for travel- ing dresses, blouses, skirts, night dresses, pers, and for infants’ and children’s outfits, Tuene is a Faxcy for Marguerite gowns with round skirts raised just a trifle on the left side toshow an underskirt of a different color and fabric, trimmed with one or more rows of gal- loons. Prerry Litre Pevenixes and “Abbé Galante” of silk lace, trellis-patterned jetted net, and ribbon in profusion, are worn and some of the specimens are very stylish and graceful.- Warre Exciise Twitiep woolens with half- inch cross-bars of black, red, blue, or brown, are being made up into sack suits for dressy men to Wear upon piazzas and at the seaside this summer, Some Proposep changes in hair dressing are under discussion, but predictions on this sub- ject issued by various authorities are so often belied by subsequent facts that it is scarcely safe to repeat them as official. Amoxo THr Newest New Conors are “soap blue,” asoft, dull, gray-blue; “oak heart,” a pink with hints of red and yellow, and “dried roseleaf,” which reproduces faithfully the faint yellow cream of the dead petals, Six Mirts, both in black and tan, will be worn from now until frost comes. Tan is also the leading color in kid gloves, whether suede or glacé. but has such infinite variety of shade as to make monotony impossible. Tue ReaPrearine ofthe very large round hats of picturesque design and graceful propor- tions has been followed by some very “Frenchy” looking models, whose ornamenta- tion is fearful aud wonderful to behold. Pants Mittrvens Sar that ribbon will soon get the better of flowers as the trimming for lish hats. It is used in all widths, yy” up to 10 inches, and appears in the richest weaves and the most daring yet artistic color combinations. Tux Successor To Tre Emxrree Ver is the long lace veil falling straight in front, the scalloped border just below the chin and the long ends carried up at the back and lightly caught on the hat, of which with a flower or two they often form the trimming. Waite Saints are undraped. Fashionable dressmakers manage to make them elaborate and decorative by alternate arrangements of leats and gathers, shirrings and smockings, from the waist ling, and. panels end lashes, — revers and borders, complete the elabora- jon, PRINTERS IBSON BROTHER! Girt oeaE SEE sp op remrvans jel-7m 1238 Peunsy! ‘ivanis svenue. Mcst==s, & WALLACE, BOOK AND JOB PRINTERS, 1108-1116 E st. n.w.. south aide. PPE RORY PETS FINE WORK A SPECIALTY. ao GENTLEME: N’S GOODS. mR WELL CLUTHI! TRY = pels genes ee 1111 PENNSYLVANIA AVE, mh17 Washington, D.C PROFESSIONAL.