Evening Star Newspaper, October 25, 1890, Page 9

wee A LION AND A LIONESS. Saag AN ADVENTURE AND A RO- MANCE OF A COURA- GEOUS WOMAN. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY JOAQUIN MILLER - acceler {Copyrighted} CHAPTER L BOUBT if you will find either profit or pleasure in reading this incident of my third voyage up the N It 1s really not worth reading. I have written it down merely for a few friends who know some- thing of the facts and also to escape the annoy- sue of having to tell it over as one of the fea- ares of my four years’ travel in the orient. Hutto begin. Wearying of the Levant I was sting atime in Kome, when I was tormaily invited, as well as specially urged, to witness be marriage ceremony between the Grand ! uchess Alexandria and the Duke of Edinburgh. Letus pass over these wasteful follies—the waste of time, the waste of sense, of soul. I have only mentioned the reason for my pres- in St. Petersburg, have only mentioned he {uct of my being there because I saw a face that gathering of people that could not be ten. It was the face of a tall, dark and ely silent Dolores—a young wo surely met and made the acqu ~trow early in the morning of lite. Isome- mes wonder if I could ever have known or c.red to know any one who had not sorrowed eply. And yeti now know very well that : whatever guise that woman could have come here could have been no two roads for us from the day of her coming to the day of her going. Let me be a little tial ight bere. I w. Lhad always known, I should meet this omat, I had waited for her; worked hard, uilt up the battlements and the fortress of my soul so that I might receive her into it and | efend her well against my baser self when sheshould come. And now tell me, have you ver had a thought, a conviction like this; a your own heart that your other If would coine to you complete some day, soon or late; #0 soon as ‘The doc- he had been trying @ between the czar and the He may not have been of that pecu but I think she bad the money of Sir Moses Montefiore behind her. ihere I mpts at assassination, fo! owed Some of the condemned wer as if this woman herself dea it had mned to 2 ink ehe snffered more than ail the others put together. @ Was so Very, Very sensitive to the pain and sorrow of other hke that. But there isa that suffers keenly can Youcau if you care to urself as the centuries nentire nation in this. round to work on in the of the condemued peopie. It was on ond that we first met; as two swift 5 sms that flow in the «ume direction and so ¥ unite forever. All that could be done sas done speedily; for “the law's delay,” what- <ver else must be iand to the doors of Kussia, is one of her sing, * summer took flight we went south with felt that she was dy- npressed with the m and having this shed in the holy city. t was all religions. I lin the Kremlin at Moscow, cross elf in St. Peter's at Rome and bend low at yrayer im the synagogue at Alexandria, I she would have done tae same ina osque. As stated beiore, I had, previous to mecting her, been all over Syria. And 80, ver she referred to her cherished idea, often did, of forming Hebrew settie- ments inand about Jerusalem and restoring i-rael, I took oceasion to explain how impossi- ble and impractical it all was. remember telling her how in a whole day's fe from Babyton toward Jerusalem I had seen so hving thing save a single grasshopper. I explained to her that the path of civilization hud been im the track of the setting sun ever » the dawn of bistory, and that it was not im the powcr of man to reverse this course. I attempted to show that the tide of population on the salubrious and fertile est west tul the heart of civ- tright there. I explained » her that wherever the great stroug heart of commerce beat strongest there would be found the strongest and best of these people whom hoped to help, while the weak and helpless | o! that race would remain stranded by the | waters of the Levant as in Russia now. “Why not then let us auticipate this and Luild the city of refuge by your great sea in the path of this civilization which you say will he golden doors of dawn was the great, turnest idea tome as she spoke. But of course ow. as said before, that the “peculiar peo- ould not be induced to brave the desert. > not#eek rest, but action—employment ne marts. They would rest but a single t even by the sweet waters of Jacob's weil CHAPTER IL As winter came on and ypt began to be op- essively full of tourists it was decided that | id make our escape up the Nile and wt the ruins of Karnak and other places ul the outgoing tide set im. Once fairly on y it did not take long to persuade me that she was not only gaining strength each y. but in soul. *We had been more th ou the Nile,a tattered palm tree tossing m the wind and sand, « gaunt, | ‘ colored camel yonder all legs and hair; . jespair all around us; a land | e for tombs, jackals and | tons! Was stronger; there were roses in her ous black hair bad not the | th im it _uow, but was luxu- | de ¥ sensate with renewed lite and health wt possible happi Une warm sunset, as the boat lay with its | w in the yellow sund th med to stretch | d that she and I the tall ruins on a | ack trom the river apd | ch and listen for the coming | | I had already | on seeing «| up from the | O stumbie over Thad afterward gather up and take to od. Still, we had been b, and then would not ue of | the boat much th me | bs were taken with us to carry a| rugs water and the | was steeper than it seemed, and eat through the sand heavy. I was b to test her strength and 4 rot & opportu I mig bor courage ped she on a could i ithe could 2. mber to the top was steep and hard. | ¢ nea seep aud bard as 1 | itwhen I reflected that very | e found that these wonderful co! « b great «labs he abs were of astouishing breadth | thickness. This temple, as it is ca probably been a tomb. I took good care that there was no other means of ascent © where we had chose ling by was nothing of the sort at hand the two Arabs and resolved to be | ossible. as the singularly brave | who haa come bere to n rave. if 1 beaut nd y by gradations desert. It was serene harmonies and awiul = the eye ke melody in 1 ory. sud she at my side partook of it all; she cathed it, absorbed rtof it, Isaw her grow and glow. iy I saw her dilate and expand till she was ta absoi harmony with the awe and splendor I felt that she had been part of. this tawny deso- fore. Perhaps her soul before the pyramids. .at encompassed Us bs the mid: <u00 ages and ages b ead deca born bere, bo: CHAPI RUL With my own hands I spread her couch of *koms and rugs im the remotest corner of a great stone siad thet still Lifted its unbroken | ised to be entirely their own, | to note. and [ recorded it with certainty, that | was mainly om our front in defiance of time high above the tawny sands of the desert. The night was very sultry, even here on this high and roomy summit. The broad, deep slab of granite was still warm with sunshine gone away, and gave out heat like a dying furnace. The steep and arduous ascent had taxed her strength, and her robe as I turned to examine more minutely our strange quarters on the top of this lofty e sank to rest, half reclining on her arm, her chin in her upturned palm, her face lifted away toward the rising moon, Halt a dozen paces to the right I saw two tall d ponderous columns of granite standing in line with those that supported the great slab on which she rested. Evidently these grand and solitary columns had also been topped by granite slabs, But these had fallen to the ground under the leveling feet of many ce: turies and now lay almost swallowed up in the sea of yellow sands below. I put out my foot carefully, trying to reach the broad top of the nearest column of granite, but it was beyond me. Stepping back a bey of paces and quietly removing my boots I gathered up my strength and made @ leap, landing almost in the center of the column's top. A baif step backward, another leap—who could resist the challenge of that lone and kingly column that remained? I landed securely as before, then turned about. Her face bad nct lifted an in- stent from the awful majesty of the orient, Slowly, wearily. the immense moon came shouldering up through the seas of yellow sand. These billows of sand seemed to breathe and to move. The expiring heatof the de- parted sun made them scintillate end shimmer in a soft and undulating light. And yet it was not light; only the lone and solemn ghost of departed day. Yellow and huge and startling stood the moon at last, full grown and fearful in its nearness and immensity, on the topmost lift of yellow sands in the yellow seas before us. Distance seemed to be annihilated. The moon seemed to have forgotten her place and all proportion, Looking down into the sullen Nile it seemed a black and # bottom- less chasm, And it seemed so far away! And the moon so very near! Black as the blackest Egypt rolled the somber Nile down and on and on through this world of yellow light; this light that was not light. Silence, desolation, death lay on all things below, about, above, The west was molten yellow gold, faint and fading it is true; but where the yellow sands left off and the yallow skies bexan no man could say or guess, Save by the yellow stars that studded the west with an intense yellow. Yellow to the right and yellow to the left, yellow over head and yellow under foot, with ¥ this endless chasm of Erebus cleaving the yellow earth in s with its bottomless pit of endless aud indissoluble blackness. After a time—and all the world still one sea of softened yellow torn in two by Charon chasm of blick waters—I silently leapt back, replaced my boots on my feet and then held my breath, For 1 bad seen, or perhaps felt, an object move on the lifted -levels of sand be- tween us and the moon. Cautiously I sank down on my breast and ered low-and long up the horizon. I saw, | se nothing. Glancing around to where my companion lay, I sw that #he still haa not | stirred from the half-reclining position she had | first taken, with half-lifted face in her up- turned palm, ‘Then she had seen nothing, heard nothing. This, however, did not argue much. Her life had not been of the desert. She had spent her years in the study of men and women. 1 had Spent mine with wild beasts, I could trust her to detect motives in men, give the warning note of danger from dangerous men; but the wild beasts and wilder men of the border were mine to watch and battle with, not hers, She had seen nothing.’ Evidently she feared nothing, and so was resting, resting in mind as in Loy. And as I glanced agam over my shoulder and saw bow entirely content she seemed, I was glad. Surely she depended en- tirely on me; on my watchfulness and my cour- age. And thir made me more watchful and more revolute and stout of heart. A man likes to be trusted. A true man likes a true woman's trust much indeed. A strong man likes to be leaned upon. It makes him stronger, braver, better. Let women never forget this. Admit that she, too, has her days of strength and en- durance, and admit that she, too, has her pecu- har fortress of strength and courage, and these so Man respecta and regards h piteous nderness. Lut man, meapable of her finer and loftier courage aud endurance, resents her invasion of his prerogative. It is only a womanly man who can love a manly woman, But to continue. Looking up athird time to this woman at my side I saw that she had let her head siuk low on her jean- ing arm, She was surely sleeping. Now, I hiked her trust and her faith in me. And how Iliked her courage, too, and her bigh quality | of endurance, It wus her courage that had brought me up here this night to the contem- plation of a#wfui and all glorious Africa. Silently and without lifting a finger she had shown me a world of buruished gold. I had surely seen God through her. We stood nearer together now than ever before. This single hour of indescribable glory should forever 8 ltar in the desert. Our souls had ad flown and tided on, intermingled n gold in the golden atmosphere and m like mo the yellow scene that wrapped us round about, and no word had been said. When God speaks so audibly let man be silent. Imust have looked longer on the sleeping and trustful woman at my side than I ought to have looked, for on turping my eyes aaiu to the horizon there distinctly, on the yellow | column, then on to the next! i | preparations to bend all their force bearing him upward in one might I fired—fired right into his bi tween two pickets of mag te “bounded id forward and for again, corner of the ite tunately, the it slightly curving, ‘ortunately, ascent was ly © b so that the distance could not be made ata single bound without collision, elge had we beth autety bese destroyed: ‘Again the supple and comely beast, disdain- ing to creep or crawl, made a mighty leap up- ward. But only to st the rounding corner (eae granite slab and fall back as be- fore. But I knew he would reach usin time! And if ever man did wish for fitting arms to fight with and defend woman it was I at that time. True, I had but five shots left, but what were they in the face of this furious king of beasta? I began to fear that they would only serve to enrage him. Still he should have all I had to give. Death is, has been and will be. The best wecan make of it all is to try and see that we shall not die ingloriously. The woman had been by my side all this time. And now, as the lion paused as‘if to gather up the broken thunderbolts of his strength, she laid a hand on my arm, never so gentiy, and said: “Let me go down and meet him face to face, I think he will not harm me.” “Madam,” I exclaimed impetuously, “you will meet him up here, and face to face, soon enough I think.” “No, that will not do, You must trust the lion as Daniel did.” I pushed her back as she tried to pass down, almost violently. “There!” I cried, as I wheeled about and “if you forced her before me for an instant, have real courage leap to the head of yonder Quick! Be quick enough to save yourself and——" “No; Iwill not run away and leave you to i ‘For God's sake you will run away and save me.” “Why? How?” “I will join you there, go! Quick, er it will be too late.” Another leap of the lion! lem 2 Bang! ‘This time he did not fall back, but held on by sheer force of his powerful arms, his terrible claws tearing at ths granite slab as they hung and hooked over its outer edge. Bang! Bang! Bang! ‘The last shot, I hurled my revolver in his face, for he had not flinched or given back a single grain. His breath and my breath were mingled there in the smoke of my pistol, I heard—or did I feel, —his greathinder feet fastening in the steep earth under him for his final struggle to the top. Ptarnea, saw that she had reached the far- ther column, and with three leaps anda bound I had crossed the granite slabs and stood erect on the cearer one. Not a moment had I left. The lion, with great noise of claws on the granite, came tearing tothe surface. I crouched down, out of breath, on the outer edge of my column, so as to be surely out of reach of his ponderous paws, I expected him to decide the matter at once—to reach us or to give it up in- stantly, But he seemed in no haste now. He scarcely advanced at all for what seemed to me to be along time. Finally, jerking his tail like the swift movement of a serpent, he strode along the farthest edge of the granite slab and seemed to take no notice of us whatever, Blood was dripping from his mouth, but he did not seem to heed it, Once more he strode with his old majesty and seemed ashamed that he should have descended to the indignity of a struggle to gain the place where he now stood, sullen and triumphant. Enraged? He was choking, dying with rage; and yet this kingly creature would not even condescend to look in our direction. Why, I could fee! his fearful rage as he now walked on and around the edge of tiat granite slab. At length he came opposite to where I lay crouching on the further edge of my column, He passed on without so much as turning his eyes in my direction, And yet I felt, I teltand kuew as distinctly as if he could have talked and told me, that he was carefully measuring the distance. When the lion, in his stately round, came to the narrow pass by which he had ascended be paused an instant and half lowered his head, Ab, how devoutly I did pray that he would be generous enough to descend to the sands and gracefully present us with his absence, But no! Lifung his buge head even higher inthe air than before, he now passed on hur- riedly, came on around to where in his stately majesty he stood with quivering flank and flash- ing eye, almost within reach of me. Yet he still disdained to even so much as lookatme. His head was tar above me as I crouched there on the farther edge of my column; his flashing eyes were litted and looking far above and beyond me. Maybe he wason the lockout over the desert for the coming of his companion. Soon, however, he set his huge paws on the very edge of the great slab on which he stood and the: ddenly threw his right paw out to- ward me and against the edge of my column with the force and velocity of a catapult. Iheard the sharp, keen claws strike and scrape on the granite as if they had been hooks of steel. Then he threw himself on his breast, and hitching himself a little to one side be threw his right paw so far that it landed full in the center of my column's top and tore a bit of my coar sleeve. Then he hitched his huge body alittle farther on over the edge and again sand and under the yellow moon, moved— stealthily as a cat, yet graceful and grand— the most kingly beast I ever beheld. He did not look right nor left, but moved along with buge bead in the air slow and stately and tri- umphant in bis fearful symmetry and strength, CHAPTER Iv. I half arose and felt for a trusty six-shooter. This pistol was not oue that kad been purchased for this or any other occasion, as the worthless pistols of the time are usually purchased, but it had been my companion from boyhood. As I half arose the lion suddenly halted. He lifted his proud ead higher still in the air and, to my constervation, half turned about and looked strarght in my direction. Then a end circuitous step or two with his < reach of hinder leg, bis wide and deep and flexible flank; slow and kingly; splendid to leank down again, quite willing to let him interview the land of Arabs in the black chasm below. ‘They had spears and guns and every- nug down there, everything but courage to face a tion with, and I was not going to inter- fere with a fight which at the first had prom- But this n Y movement of mine only accentn- ful motion. The head now turned , like the head of aman. I had time he massive bi traig! and tumbled mane towered above the shoulder. In fact the lower the long mane looked most like the ong, shaggy beard of a man falling down upon his broad breast. This I noted as he still kept on his sidewise circuit above us and around on us the yellow sand and under the yellow t moon. At times he was almost idistinct. But the esrriaze of that head! ‘There was a fine fanc n iu the lift aud the movement and the tarn of that sta remembered, bat can L. As he came neare © his sidewise walk direction—I saw that he, too. was yellow, as if born of this yellow world im this yellow night; but his wae a more pou- derous ow, the yellow of red and ru gold, At times ho seemed simost black, ail the tune terrible. Iu haif @ minute wore he would be too close ort and 1 decided to arouse my com- She wakened tuily awake, if I may be to express a fact so awkwardly. You know that there are people Like that, y head that must evor be ver be describe ud iz. Sli nd was still looking far out against the yellow horizon, where her eyes hud rested when she fell asleep, and as-she looked, or rather before 1 ventured to point her to the Spot aimost under the tomb where the lion strode, he passed on and was by this time, per- " almost quite tuder the great slab of granite where we rested, I pout to whisper the fact in her ear when I fancied I felt the whole tomb tremble. Then At seemed to shake, or. rather, rumble again, ‘Then xgam it rumbied! Then again! Then there was a roar that literaily shook the sand, Theard the sand sift and rattle down like drops of rain from where 1: lay inthe crevices asl listened to find whether or not he was moving forward toward the place by which we had ascended. ile was surely moving forward I feit rather than Leurd hia move. I assert— and I must content myseif for the present with merely asserting—that you can fecl the move- ments of au animal under circumstances, Aad [ assert further that an animal, especially a wild beast, can feel your movements under almost any circumstances. The undeveloped | senses deserve « book by themselves, But just now, with the largest lion I ever saw coming | straight upon me, m hardly the time or place | to write such a treatise. | Pistol im hand, I sprang to the steep and threw his huge paw right at my face, It fell short of its mark only a few inches, as itseemed tome. Lut having hastily gathered in my garments his claws did not find anything to fasten on and they drew back empty, THE, EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D.C. toward | mighty ity bound, be red mouth be- | back and into s depression in the At this point three dusky etchings stood out against the golden east on the yellow sands aud Jooked intently at us with their enormous heads hizh in the air, And now the beast slowly arose and moved on. A lion’s head seems always dis- proportionately large, but when he is exercis- jug for an uppetite to eat you it looks large in- lee ‘The monster who was occupying the platform with us surely saw his followers; indeed, be moust have seen them long before, but his un- bending dignity seemed to forbid that he should take any heed of them, ‘The new-born hope that he would descend and join his followers died as he came on around, Aud now something strange and notable transpired. This one incident is my excuse for thus elaborating this otherwise passive and tediously duil sketch of this night. “I had risen to my feet, and as the lion came on around, ‘this woman, with a force that was irresistible, sprang to wy side, thrust me benind her, and, stepping forward with a single spring, sbe stood on the edge of the column nearest to the lion. 1 would have followed, but that same force, which I can now understand, and which was mental force and not at alla physical fore held me bard and fast to where | stood. She had let her robe fall as she sprang for- ward and now stood @ silhouette of perfect comeliness aguiust the terrible and bloody mouth and tossing mane of the lion. She leaned forward as he came on around and close to the edge of his slab. She looked him firmly and steadily in the face, with her wondrous eyes, her midnight eyes of ali Israel; the child of the wilderuess had once more met the lion of the desert as of old. Who was this woman here who stept between death and me and stood looking a wounded tion tn the face? Was this Judith again incar- nate? Or was this something more than Judith? Was it the Priestess and the Prophetess riam, back once more to the banks of the Nile? Was it the old and forgotten mastery of all things animate which Moses and his sister kuew that gave her dominion over the king of the desert? Or was ber name Mary? “That other M “af you will, who won all things to God in heaven, God upon earth, by d, sweet pity of her face and the story of love that Was written there? The lion's ‘of &@ momen: forgot its lofty defiance as she leaned a little forward. Then the tossed and troubled mane rose up and rolled forward like an intlowing sea. It never seemed so ter- rible. He was surely about to spring! And she, too! Her right foot settled solidly back, her left knee beut hke a bow, her shapely and snowy shoulders under their glory of black hair bowediow. Her dauntless and defiant spirit had already precipitated itvelf forward and was smiting the imperious beast full in hus blazing eyes. I knew that her body would foliow her spirit in an instant more. Face to face! Spirit to spirit! Soul to soul! A second oniy the combat lasted. The awful ferocity and force of brute was beaten down, melted like lofty battlements of suow before the burning arrows of the sun, and be slowly, suridy shrank in size, im spirit, in Space. A paw drew back from the edge of the block, the eyes drooped, the head dropped jalitle her side, the creature forced himself side- Wise and back a little. ‘Then be hesitated. Rebellion was in his mighty heart. He turned suddenly and looked her full in the face once more. All the beast that was in him rose up. The terrible mane now seemed more terrivle that before. With Ee head tossed, tail whip) back and teeth the air, talons unsheathed and legs gathered under bim, he was about to bound forward. But the woman was before him! With eyes still fastened on his face she, with one long leap forward, drove not ouly her shining soul | rugged passage. And not ® second too soon. | His mighty head was ahaost on « level with the | granite slab, And he halt crouching for a | bound and « spring upward, which vould per- haps land him im our faces. I could see—or aid I fe that his huge hinder feet were | spread wide out and sunken in the eand with but her snowy body right against his teeth; or, rather, she had sureiy done so had not the Ii half turned sbout, shrunk back as she leaped forward. Then slowly, looking back with his blazing but cowering eyes, feeling back with his spirit still defiant, if but to see whether her cousage failed her im the least or it was still in battle armor, His eompanions had jicked up my pistol from where it had aed a lew feet below, and as she turned about care- fully reloaded it from cartridges by chance in a pocket. turming to the summit I found her again en her couch at the corner of the hi a vay vine as if we had disturbed. I did not Not single word had been uttered all this time. Isat down at the feet of this woman, not at her side. as before, and let my own feet dangle down over the on the side farthest away from the isolated columns. Neither of us spoke, nor did she move hand or foot till morn- ing. ———or—____ HOME MATTERS. Seasonable Suggestions and Every Day Hints to Practical Housekeepers. A Fort TasiesPooxrvt or Foun makes one- half ounce. Fon Faprp Garex Bumps rub on a little lin- seed oil, Harr a Trasroonrct or Svan will often re- vive a dying fire. Oxterixe tae Exps or tam Harm once a month has a beneficial effect, Sv.nirs or Tunrentive will take groase or drops of paint ont of cloth. Apply till the paint can be scraped off. A Lire Satrt sprinkled over the surface of & mustard plaster will enable the patient to keep it on for hours without much suffering. M1Lk 1s 4 Goop Sotveyt oF Quinine and will disguise its bitter taste. Five grains may be dissolved in two or three ounces of milk. Ivis ALmost Lapossiaie to Remove 4 Stare from an ivory-handled knife. It might be ee lightly with a very fine sandpaper, say io, 00, A Goop Campnor Ioz is made of one ounce of spermaceti, one ounce of camphor, one ounce of almond oil, one-half cake of white wax; melt all together and turn into molds, ASmate Box Fittep Wire Lrux and placed on a shelf in the pantry or closet will absorb dampness and keep the air inthe closet dry and sweet, “Iv tae Ware oF an Eao be mixed with « cupful of beef tea and heated to 160 degrees the valuo of the beef tea is greatly enhanced,” says Lancet. Do Nor Lioat a Sick Room at Niaat by means of a jet of gas or a kerosene lamp burn- ing low; nothing impoverishes the air sooner. Use sperm candies or tapers which burn sperm o To Loosen Stoppers oF Torer Borrues let 8 drop of oil flow around the stopper and stand it within @ foot or two of the fire. Aftera time tap it gently, and if it does not loosen add another drop of oil. A Borrte or Boutuion may be kept in the house to add to sauces and soups. You will also find it exceedingly convenient where a clear soup is wanted and you do not care to build a fire. Aw Excettent Corp Cngam may be made of &n ounce of white rose perfume, a half ounce of spermaceti,a haif pint of rose water and almonds enough to make a paste; beat all to- gether well. Canrets Mary Be Greatty Barontexep by first sweeping thoroughly and then going over them with a clean cloth and clear salt and water. Use a cupful of coarse salt toa large basin of water. Ir Soot Farts Upon rae Carpet or rug do not attempt to sweep it until it has been cov- ered thickly with dry salt; it can then be swept up properly and not a stain or smear will be left. Keep Cevery Faesn by rolling it in brown paper sprinkled with water, then ina damp cloth, and put it ina cool dark place. Before preparing it for the table submerge it in coid water and let it stand for an hour. It will be found very crisp. CuramepD Ham.—Cut cold boiled ham into very thin slices, Put a teaspoonful of butter and four tablespoonfuls of milk or cream in the chafing dish, and when very hot put in the ham; dust it with pepper, and when very hot add the beaten yolk of one egg and serve at once. Deviiep Fisa.—Take one pint of cold cooked fish, season it with a teaspoonfnl of salt, » dash of red pepper and a tablespoonful of parsley; mix with it caretally four hard-boiled eggs chopped fine. Fill thie mixture lightly into the cups, add sufficient milk to almost come to the top of the fish, sprinkie the sur. face with bread crumbs, put here and thi tiny piece of butter and bake in a moderate oven tventy minutes, Breap Savce.—Rub stale bread through a sieve; you will need about acupful or a half pint of the bread crumbs; then add as much milk as the bread crumbs will soak up, about a cupful will be about right; cover and let it stand soaking for ten minutes; then put the bread and milk into a saucepan with an onion and four or five pepper cones; stir it until it boils, then add @ pinch of salt and an ounce of butter, stirring well; then take out the onion and pepper cones; add ateacupfal of milk, boil it again and serve, Quick Cake ror Tga.—Beat one rounding tablespoonful of butter, ahulf pint of sugar and the yolks of two eggs together until light, then add a half cup of milk and one and a half ted flour lightly measured. Beat nd then stir in ® heaping teaspoonful of baking powder and the well-beaten whites of the two eggs. Flavor with lemon or vanilla and bake in a moderate oven about thirty min- utes. Tar Best Way To Wasa Brack Liste Tareap Srockrxos is to rub them in tepid water with g00d soap (curd is best) free of soda and in the last rinsing water put abouta tablespoonful of good vinegar to about one and a half quarts of Water; wring them out of this, clap them into shape and iron when nearly dry. Some people ase salt instead and sometimes with the vine- gar, but the above method does perfectly. Onanoe Sinup.—Take twelve Havana or five Florida oranges of the large yellow variety, with highly scented rind; soak the peel of six in cold water for two hours; press and stra‘ the juice of the twelve; boil three pounds of sugar toa thick sirup, add the oranze juice and peel and boil for twenty minutes; strain the sirup, bottle when cool and cover the corks with wax, Another boiling may have the juice of three lemous added, giving a more refreshing acid. Lemon sirup may be made in the same way. eS agg How to Break a String. From the New York Sun. It 18 easy to break a string if you know how. Women need not hunt for a knife or a pair of scissors after tying a bundle nor saw the string over the edge of the counter. The grocer’s loop does the business, Hook the first finger of the left hand over the string, giving the finger a twist, or. rather. bringing the palm upward, Then'roli the finger over backward until it is tight against the bundle, drawing tight the cord, which is held in the right hand all the time. Press the thumb hard against the loop, then jerk the cord suddenly with the right hand, and the string cuts iteelf, hes o/s leases A Gvod Boy’s Reward. From Street & Sinith’s Good News. Pirst Boy—Where did y’ yet that dime?” Second Boy—Th’ teacher guv it to me fer bein’ a good boy all day yestiday.” “What ye goin’ t’ do wif it?” (Buy some sulphur t’ drop down th’ reg- ister.’ ———+e+_______ Rise and Fall, ‘Twasa breach of promise suit, the letters all were read, ie said: “Dear dir. smith,” “Dear Friend,” “Dear John,” CMs F ‘Clover,” “My Ownest Jack,” “Dear John,” “Dear Sir,” then “Sir,” and all was over, —Chicage Post, SATURDAY. aecaes 25, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES. asi, v2! ABOUT DRESS DESIGN: ly yellow teeth. airetep lee mre alegre Activity, PREPARING FOR WINTER. Value of Dressing Artistically—Practi- cal Points fer Purchasers of Fabrice fer the Adorn: tof the Person erat Home—Pretty Costumes. —_—__ Written for Tax Evexrxe Stan. EATHER BORDERS for autumn will soon be replaced by winter far trimmings, which will be worn to an extent seldom ‘attempted. The idea 1s not‘unwelcome to delicate poopie, Fur at wrists and throat adds a comfortable coziness to the clothing and keeps off the the chills where they strike most dangerously. Fur cuffs hooked close about the wrists keep the pulse warm, and borders in tront give the warmth that is most grateful over the chest, Many & woman, well clad, in liberal house, gets her death by going about chilly with a slight coldness in the back and front of the chest. It is held in contempt to coddlo one’s seif, as vigorous friends cali it, and 40 she ruas close risk of pneumonia rathor than make herself comfortable in her own way. In a velvet and fur season one can hardly help being warmly dressed. | FOR INSIDE WEAR The fancy counters—with their sets of em- broidered velvet sleeves ready to sew in last Year's sacque, the pink, canary aud pale blue ostrich collars and Bulgarian work for Christ- mas—are not more interesting to most realers | than the home comforts in bosiery aud inside | wear. Scarlet kuit vests and drawers, soft as zephyr wool, are elastic enough to draw over white bodywear for snowy or muddy daya, Sensible women are making knickerbockers of the tine, pretty striped flannels usually made up for morning gowns. In their way theso are better than most things made for us of late | years—fine as the expensive French flanuels, in | Very pretty narrow siripes,and being mixed cotton and wool neither shrink nor fade, One is grateful to find such satisfactory mate- rial for gowns and petticoats, children’s dresses and winter drawers at the moderate price of 37 | cents, ayard wide, ‘The camel's hair serges and cheviots at $5and $6. yard do not offer nearly as good qualities for their price. The; are coarse, attractive as so much be blanketing, t is they wear three or | four years without change, which is no recom- | mendation. FIGURED MATERIALS IN VOGUE, Figured materials are in high fashion, not only in the expensive silks, chinee and printed, but in cashmeres and French twilled flann for street wear and delaines or alpacas for ‘The tiresome water and half-moon fig- ures give way to the beautiful old-iashioned bouquets in colors more or less natural and floral stripes. Of course nothing like paniers | or over-drapery is to be thought of, and the | simple gathered gowns with fuil flounce on the | skirtare so pretty one wishes them lasting | favor. The showy silks for evening in white | or cream grounds, with gorgeous pattern, | partly chinee and partly in velvet relief, are | not good choice even for the stage. Such a dress seen once is never forgotten and grows commonplace in three times wearing. The flower and bouquet designs must be mod- est in size not to be afilictive. Well studied, of just that size which gives impression of their beautiful color, without stamping it om the eye, a bouquet gown is a pleasure forever. POVERTY OF DRESS DESIGNS. It is a sin to make or print an inferier pattern when a good one isso long valued. With all | the fuss over schools of design, the work sent out from the best ones is doubtfully desirable. A window of brocades is a sight to turn one’ eyes from, The exhibition of last year seems followed by a reaction of design which sinks into dreariness, Those spring acanthus and prickly poppy leat patterns up and down a rich | silk remind one of horned frogs and dragon | fins, or stinging, ill-mannered and worse scented coarse weeds, which possibly do for the border | of Flemish tapesiry, but are not the ideas to | associate with women’s gowns. It is a very | plain law of taste that nothing disagreeable | should ever be figured in human surround- | ings. Such inflictions are the accidents of | rude growth, but it 1s our privilege to banish the most distant hint of them from our houses, our wall paper and cushions and carpets or our women’s and children’s dress, If crude or | debased Gothic or Florentine taste chose for | its pattorns the dock and thistl es. which | grew rank at the foot of castle walls, when gar- dens were scarcely kuown, it is not for us to follow their poverty of design. It is our fortune to velect what is best in the work of earlier art | without accepting its mistakes and propagating its blunders. So every Daisy end Dorothy who is careful to choose her gowns of the pret- test figure and fashion does her part for en- covraging good designs and better art. The | flowered dresses preserve the garden charm for us, When Delia comes down in her French flan- | nel house dress of material firm and finished | like Amazon cloth, in those rich colured stripes | which repeat the hues of dablias and Brompton | stocks aud choice asters, she brings a bint of | pleasure with her which all eyes gratefully ac- knowledge. Or when she goes tripping ont in visiting dress of tine Henrietta cioth, whose printing is one of the choice effects of the trade, where small rich roses giow on the dark ground in clusters of Provence and Prince 0 Morocco | together, deep rose and red, the plain velvet jacket and bonnet set off a costume so di cious that one would follow her a sircet’s length to look at it. Such a toilet betrays acute sense | of the becoming, the sufficient, Another young woman, who lacks taste takes a figured gown with lighter ground. She trims it, perhaps (fatal mistake), instead of leaving its flowercd beauties to tall in loug eats, and she mounts it with one of those new French bonnets which come in three pieces, with the ammai, vegetable and mineral king- doms under contribution for garniture, and wears a frogged military coat with it. Thea she looks the overdressed young lady and | nothing else—neither chic ‘nor distinction | about her, AS TO OUTER WRAPS. “Greta” wants to know what she shall buy for outer wraps, not to be expensive, as she has a narrow income, and wants to devote part of it to taking lessons next winter. Yet sie wants to look jaunty and not betray economy, though caring less to follow ultra styles, ‘Is the military jesirable in her ease?” Any- thing but desirable, to answer the lust question first. It will do for Tuxedo gurls, who carry hali a dozen different jackets every season and | with whom $50 or $60 ior u new wrap is a baga- telle. SAFE RULES FOR CHOOSING, One word to those who would select wrap- Pings for lasting good style, Always choose | cloaks or jackets with as few seams and picees | as possible. The less thick cloth is cut up the better, and sacques with six pieces in the back | or separate skirts never look as well or give the satistuction of simpler models, ‘Shere is a pretty short jacket soidin very dark and fine | piush, nearly as handsome as ‘black seal,” | though not imitating it, which goes well with | any costume, The fronts lap a litde, giving | warmth to the chest; the collar sets closely, with , elund the skirt is straight without being clumsy.’ ‘This is as well made as any-, thing at $20. Besides this have a ioug cloak | of very light or dark cheviot, if light with high | cloth coilar—not too flaring if it is to see an- | other season—iitted under the arms with no| dai rt, ‘A fluffy gray boa of the best raccoon fur and muff to mutch will give style toa plain gray cloak, for furs match the cloaie religiously, un- less of the most expensive. G@loaks of soft tan cloth have boas of the yellowish, cat-like fur called iceland lamb, and the union is becoming in an odd, bizarre fashion to saffron blondes | with the dark eyes that accompany such hair. For rheer economy and good style a cheviot cloak of darkest blue black or heather purple, with detachable cape lined with fleecy flannel of warm, rich plaid, finished by velvet collar, in- side cuffs aud girdie, will be admirable while it laste, ‘Tbe soft flannels are used for linings on account of their rich Sees Bive pic- ‘turesque reliéf to plain man’ NOVELTIES IN CHRISTMAS GIFTA. ‘The newest work for Christmas gifts com- bines tinted kid and chamois with veivet for writing and toilet cases, Delicate stone tints of chamois and blush kid have sketchy flowers and figures painted for the be ge of these cases, the rest being rich colored velvet. Men's shaving cases and long cases for neckties and fine braces are made in this way. Excellent presents are blankets of the rough erash, embroidered in brilliant colors with cross warm, persons r\ | cos Mrs. R wauts something warm, handsome and durable for winter curtains that will be cheap aud admit cleansing at home. Corduroy velveteen is coming into use this year for w holstery and draperies among ‘art le, and it combines many good qualities. So far fr ing acl imitation it stands on its own merits of substantial make, strong colors which defy sunlight. ability to endure washing wher necessary, which is seldom, the cotton absorbing odors and holding dust far less than woolen er sitk draperies. Do not confound this with the cotton flanael curtains which printed in such rich colorings only to fade in season. The corduroysand velveteens at 75 centeand @1a yard are really the cheapest heavy upholsteries sold, their color and substance being nearly indestructible. It is advisable to buy all these new things as early as they come in Vogue, as 8 season or two sees a failure in quality, to meet the vulgar de- mand for cheapness, It is worth while to line the corduroy with washing silk. which ig sold at 40 conte a yard, in both are washing materi against using silk and cotton d Sumter Dane ——_——-ee— TO TALK WELL IS AN ART. Unfortunately Most People’s Stock of Conversation ts Quickly Exhausted. EL L, it seems to me the Pottses are queer people. They always have so nuch to say to one another, What I nean by that is that there is al s lively conversation going on in the Potts family when no outsider is present, I never fail to find them laughing and talking together when I drop in upon them of anevening. Now, what puzzles me is to imagine how people who have lived for years in company in the same household can have anything left to say to each other.” Such was the remark made by Timpkins at the Piatypus Ciub one afternoon week toa Fepreseniutive of Tax Srar. It gave rise to some discussion. “My observation bas been,” said the only bald-headed member, “that very few people have anything to talk about in their own fam- ilies. Ordinarily they have loug ago exhausted all their ideas im conversation and have no further thoughts to interchange, At the din- ner table or in the drawing room they are si- lent. unless a guest comes in and introduces fresh material for discussion, thus making the sluggish stream of discourse flow. I will go so far us to say that the average person of so- called intelligence and good education does not really have ideas. By that I mean that this typical individual does not observe what goes on about him in life with the eye of the intel- lect nor receive any original impressions from what he sees and hears. His stock of informa tion is just so much and is not added to very | greatly after he bas attained man thoughts to express about things he hasa given Ty, and, inasmuch as be docs not often fresh one, he soon uses them up in con- hood; of supp forma | versation aud has nothing to say after that to the same individual, There is many a young man that passes for being very clever conver sationally who in reality only kecps up the ap- pearance of being so by careiul use of the half dozen topics ou which he has any ideas to ex- press. You have bimin your house for the second day and he ceases to be interesting, having talked himself out. I should think that the average married couple would bore each other to death almost before the honeymoon is past,” EVEN LOVERS. In response to these suggestions an excep- tionally fat member, whose pessimistic ideas are well known. remarked: “Not merely that, but the mystery to me is that even lovers do not bore each other to the verge of insanity. So far as 1 have observed the average billing and cooing pair have noth- ing to say to one another after the first days of courtship, beyond eudearing phrases, perhaps. In the lower orders of society you will find that keeping company, so called, means simply this: The young man spends ‘certain prescribed evenings with his lady love, during which it is understood that the courting is not to be dis- turbed by the presence of any third person. He ana the young woman sit in the same room together for several hours at ® stretch on each such occasion without exchanging word, unless at long in tervals one of the two says some such thing as | that it looks like rain tomorrow and the other responds with an acquiescence. That is social intercourse reduced te its lowest possible terms. I.myself once knews country lover who went tosee his affianced Tuesdays, Thurs- days and Saturdays. He always arrived at 7 and stayed until midnight. Having nothing to talk about. they both invariably went to sleep, and at 12 o'clock they were always found by the girl's mother soundly slumbering in the parlor, the young woman on the sofa and her beau snoring in a chair a few feet away, This the mamma took quite asa matter of course, her duty being to waken her daughter and the somuolent the latter thereupon making his adieux. Conversational ability is not an in- fallible index of intellect, for many men with great minds have not possessed it in a high de- gree, Lut itcannot be denied thatthe faculty is most valuable—perhaps the most widely valuable of ull faculties. To its possession a weli-stored mind is essential, but much more importaut is the power of observation, which may be cultivated, and also origin«lity of thought. Really clever people, I believe, have asmuch tosay to each otber in their own families as to outsiders, and things better worth saying, too, That is because they are in intellectual sympathy and always have fresh observations to interchange about life as they See it going on around them from day to day. ‘Those, t. at all events, are my notions on the ple,” water froma svyphon into his glass, often wonder where they get so much to say. do, ’pon me houor.” = eee What Frofits Dairies Make. “Success in our business means many sales zhed Timpkins, squirting some selizer “But I I at small profits,” said the manager of a res- | |taurant dairy to ® writer for Taz Sax. We | enough, but he hasn't time to go up siaire and | don't make very many penmies on anything we | eat a dinner. | sell, but they mount up in the course of a day. | Outside of rent our expenses are al:mos! nothing, after the hire of the help is phid. We ure little or nothing on the premises, urchasing nearly all the goods we sell in con- ition for passing over the counter. For ex- ample, our milk aud cream come direct from Montgomery county, Md. We pay 80 cents a gallou for the cream, which is retailed at 15 centsamug. Sixteen mugs make # gallon, so that at that price there is profit of 10 cents on each mug. “Half and half,’ milk and cream, i 10 cents a mug, and plain milk charge 5 cents a mug for. The latter costs us 22 cents « galion, which means that our profit ‘on it i about 334 cents a mug. “All our bread and pastry we buy by whole- sale, making none of itourselves, The rolls we cut in two and make into ham and tongue sandwiches, Meat and bread together, they cost us about 2 cents each. Maryland bis- cuit we get wholesale at 8 cents a dozen and sell them for 1 cent apiece, but most of those we dispose of are buttered and charged 2 cen‘s for. that they are more profitable. Pies us 15 cents each for the big ones we buy, and each of them is divided into six 5-ceut pieces, so that the profit on each piece is 2 cents. On such cakes as we sell, includi: 5 doughnats and crullers, we ciear about as much, Coffee and tea represent to us an penditure of 13g cents for each cup, the pri of which is 5 cents. For the ingredicnts in a cup of chocolate we pay about 4 cents and it retails for 10. You can see how in this way a few hundred customers a day will contribute enough to pay the running expenses of a dairy and allow a fair margin for interest on the investment, Read the From Judge. Newspapers. wh = the Pottses must be doosid clevah peo- | AMERICAN TYPES AS DRESSER ‘The Observations of a Critic who Takes a Now Yorker's Clothes as the Standard, ‘From the Hateriasher. Cosmopolitanism in manners and morale ‘means diversity, in clothes it means uniformity, New York is cosmopolitan. Its manners and morals are cosmopolitan and—well, say eheck- ered. Its clothes are cosmopolitan and uniform. In such respects all America is tending toward New Lork. New York is civilized; the rest of America is aiming at civilization New York's clothes, therefore, are the standard by which all others must be tested. The everage New Yorker is not a dnde; he issimply the persent cation of neatness, Inthe matter of dress be is refined and fastidious, subdue, ity. from ry be bas desire = hess or any of antiquity, never uncertain of bis On the 16th of September « fall over- oo88. box stitched about 6 cuffs, wide seams, dark blue or black, covers @ cutee way coat of black thibet or di 1, bis dark, modestly striped trons: ers, not exaggerated im or emphasized ag to crease, meet dark or patent leather or brightly ties are irreproachable, SPW YouR light gaiters ov hed shoes. Lars correct. But all these may be present, may be excels lent in qual fit_and yet their wearer | may appear “q What fs the secret bee New Yorker and bis clothes? The secret in his neatness is thi manner of wearing them and Is the New Yorker's coat jever unbu it fits ecross bis bosom w Do bis trousers ever ba impossible! Is his bat ever suggestive of carelessness? It shines like PHILADELPHIA, Are his shoes ever = the ravens wing! dirty? Their brilli as tpat of jet. Doce he scott k or gloves? neat gloves always supply the finishing touch and @ stick, or umbrella, closely rolled and bande some, always supplics the faint suggestion of | lewure. An upricnt carriage, fastidiousness as | to hair, utter iack of self-conscionsness, easy quiet movements, absence of bustle— these are the things that the New Yorker him- his clothes successful, New York gentiemam, With them we have no com cern. Boston, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Chicago ape proach this model to this extent, that in « lime | ited way they imitate it; but there is this vast | differe that the man we bave sketched is the typical New Vorker, while be is very far from being the typical Bostonian or Chicagoan, | The Bostonian has a certain frigi ity | that prevents him from being readily | able and somehow gives one the idea of « fit. As a clothes wearer he is pots euccess, In nearly every particular his garments are like those of the New Yorker, but no one | wonld ever immagine him to beil from | York. It's a difference im manner, It is | therefore a mistake for young Boston te wear | the garments of cosmopolitan New York, He | | | | should revert to the type whieb the elderly Bostonian still exemplifies. While, there! some of the rounger element are uneasy imites ‘ions of New York models the typical tonian never concerns himself about style. | tailor hax bis measure, and that's enough, | Hig material is broadcloth and worm | until it becomes sbiny; his cut is semi-clericaly | bis expanse of shirt bosom is wide; his collar bishop.” bis tie « black “shoestring,” and his hat is venerable because of old aC] You | Philadelphia is a city of homes, | tell that by lookmg at the men, Most of them ready | appear homo made; the rest eppear | made, and there is no suggestion of « tailor i= cHicaco, GALVESTON, Philadelphia. That acconnts for the number ndsize of the ready-made clothing stores there. The average Philadelphian in the street certainly not regard the amenities of dreas | se less somnolent communities consider essential. The Chicagoan has, as a rule, been too busy to take thought of his personal a He is too busy, in fact, even to live well, an his nearest approach to it is @ twenty-minute “bite’im the lunch room. He is generous Nobody cares about dress. As a whole, therefore. Chicago is shabby. The men buy good enongh clothes, and spend money freely ey | enongh, but they don't look after the little piceurs. The ical Chicagoan doesn't care | much for sty Hie wants something loose and | comfortable. If he wears a cutawa be | wears itopen; but he ie beter estished e frock co: id he wears that open, tooy where= fore a in needicss amplitude rom | | about his legs, which maturer seaieties | condemned as unbetitting. San Francisco has a large class whoge@ great deal on style—men whe know how to | dress well and give attention to at. It also bas | aclass of vulgar rich men who combine the | characteristics of the smull politician, the am loon keeper and the mining speculatem, SAN FRANCISCO, They wear fur overcoats, live well in mal way and carry rich but over as shrewd, aggressive, successful gar personalities as American veloped. Denver presents more violent dreas than almost any other It presents, side by side, the Broadway swell, the cowboy of the miner from the mountains, quently a combination of ail in one Why black broadcloth sbould be material with southern gentlemen mystery as why their coats have long tails and button with it ll i iH it