Evening Star Newspaper, December 19, 1891, Page 10

10 ee nell THE EVENING STAR: a IN CATHEDRAL TOWXS! The Magnificent Edifice in the Old English Town of Wells. RELICS OF THE 13TH CENTURY ‘The Old Cathedral in the Moonlight and tn Sunshine—Martial Attendants at Morning Service—The Old Bishop and His Ancient Palaco—Pleasant Saunterings In Clolstered Gardens—Magnificent Music. a ‘Written for The Evening Star. T= OLD ECCLESIASTICAL CITY OF Wells lies off the beaten track of travel on a branch line which has very few trains in » day. ‘Wehad been changed from one railway car- riage to another, pushed about by impatient porters and deserted on draughty platforms, where the showy English advertisement and the blood-curdling book stall novel reigned supreme, until, when at last we reached the “Swan Hotel” at Wells, we were too tired to @o more than glance out of the window in the direction of the cathedral we had come so far tosee. “Just across the street,” we were told, but we could see nothing in the semi-darkness caused by the Wells gas lamps but the big ‘wooden swan nestling ina balcony full of flowers above the hotel door, and a dim mass of trees on the other side of the way. After a comtort- mp! however, we were in a very differ- tm nd started out gaily to see what we could of the celebrated cathedral, which al- though in so remote a spot is one of the finest in Engiand. ‘THE CATREDRAL AT SIGHT. There was a wan moon struggling with ragzed clouds overhead, and im its uncertain light the three great towers rose before us as mere biack masses against the silvery sky. We wandered through the close and looked curiously at red | windows in the very old houses of the | hich surround the cathedral at some | distance. | Wells bas a large theological, seminarr, the | students of which live in a double row of lovely old cottages, cut off from the rest of the world by an exquisite archway and gaie. A little window in the gate house was brightly lighted, and we fancied that we sawa scholariy young head behind its curtained lattice burning the midnight oil in his bewitching abode, which could be reached only by a crooked little stair- case that must have been built 500 years aco. But gates were being shut in every direction with mucb inhospitable clanging and grating of ancient keys, and the town and the cathedral : seemed both to have gone to bed. We decided | to follow their example after one last look at | the cheerful little window and at the old gray walls and looming towers with dim moon- light and the dark shadow. SUNDAY MORNING. Afresh dewy morning brightened the dull! streets and turned the darkened pallor of last night into a gay symphony of green eims, blue y watering of Bath is not far away and ia joined with Wells in giving a name to the diocese. Everything had a fresh, rain-washed look on that Sunday morning, from the clean green of the grass under foot to the plastered gables Gid timbered houses. > ‘THE GRAND OLD CATHEDRAL. we the west front ‘and the principal one in the center. front is magnificent in decoration, ¢: closely with images and arabesqucs, which in olden times were colored. The cathedral, dedi- cated to St. Andrew, was founded in 704 by Iua, Bing of the Suxons, but of the present building no portion is older than the thirteenth century. | The greater of the architecture is in the | style and of the period of Notre Dame at Paris, | ‘aad the west front, with its twin towers, recalls that noble facade which rises above the Seine. Porting walls centuriesago and inverted arches of stone were built beneath it, between the | nave and chancel, proving extremely disfig- Bring. Eighteenth century vandalism has tur- ther injured the interior harmony of the cathe- dral by placing the organ above the low rood screen and thus building up a solid wall of modern woodwork between the two main por- tions of thecburch, the merest glimpes of the THE LADY CHAPEL east window being visible abot organ pipes ia, however, very beautiful and has been most = Much of the glass is a0-| attention speci tique and exquisite in ite rich green apd goiden followed the congregation into the | ngual, we found, be: | 76, @ regiment to attend church that day in | students, who sat ak advanced into the choir, the depth and richness as the nearer, and then again soar- a the chaut of au English the serven gate as the Passed through aud the service We wore rather dismanyed to find ourselves, the clergy had taken their places, sitting elbow to elbow with the dean in bis surpliee ‘This custom of crowing the congregation into the choir natarally produces some confusion fm seating, for although the ehancel is as large semany churches it wan not intended tor les] use. Opposite us was a splendid shale wom puted conep hate ate red, but ite occupant looked east window over all. Heres gr peered out from a stone pillar. kraven body was wreathed an efligy of departed grandeur seemed to watch from & forgotten tomb the progress of the familiar serv: ‘THE CANONS SERMON ON LOWLINESS. One of the canons preached, and a ray of dusty sunlight fell from some bigh window upon his scarlet hood and white hair. His sub- Ject was “Lowliness,”” upon which he held very unrepublican opinions. The poor should be kept in their places, according to hit he had concluded, happily unconscious of the disapproving Americans among his auditors, there was another ringing burst of proces- sional song and the long line of white vestments it come. paused in the rave to examine the juaint old pulpit, with its carved text, “Preache e worde,” the clergy began to come out of the vestry and disappear down the aisles, each one still wearing his surplice. We could see them through the open door hastoning across scenic was the effect of the mit lights, the tho sonciog mosis, Ereetatly ‘the flami: windows began to the music ceased and the great door closed. carven mints and angela, clearly scen now by the To ‘pinnacle, ypetieatly taking watch of centuries,’ P*°™Y SES yeas —_—_e-—__ IN THE DEVIL'S KITCHEN. 4 Thrilling Christmas Eve Experience Be- lated by an Old Scout S6]T HAPPENED IN THE 60's—THIS Christmas experience Iam going to tell you,” said an ex-government scout tos Sram reporter several days ago. “To begin with I left Washington in 1867 with Gen. Theodore Barrett's party for the purpose of making a survey of Indian territory. To bring you up to the real story I need only say that every- | thing progressed finely until the winter of 69. That was a ripsnorter and I remember every day of it, When the 22d of December came around the snow was a couple of feot deep on the prairies and the small thermometer we had went so low it never stirred again. My old partner Jack and High Eagle, a Cheyenne brave, and I fixed it up among ourselves to baveagrand hunt unbeknown to the rest of our party. it was our intention to take an early start on the nd get back in time for Christmns dinner. So the next morning long before any one stirred we were all ready with a two days’ supply of grub and a ttle of tonsil varnish apiece to keep the cold out. The Indian led the way, and carried us due north along an old buffalo ‘path. I have often wondered bow he knew the rond with two feet of snow on top of it. yet he did, and when we struck the big woods and looked beck there was our camp almost on a direct line. The snow in the woods was not as deepus on the prairie,and as we were after big game we decided to separate and meetat Crooked run. The In- dian took the left, Jack struck out in the middle and I sauntered off tothe right. Now Crooked run was about fifteen miles away from our camp, and our idea was to meet ther and camp over night in the Devils kitchen and start for home on the 2ith. About half an hour after I broke away I came across a flock of wild turkeys and knocked over abig gobler. Istrapped him on my back and struck ont afresh, Well, to make a long story short, when I arrived at Crooked run Jack and the Indian were waiting for me. We cooked the turkey {had shot und ekinned the coyote the close, with thei ‘ite robes fluttering in the breeze. A verger in # black gown pre- ceded the dean along a grassy ~athway to his ivy-grown dwelling. < THE VERGER AND THE BISuOP. Presently another verger, carrying » mace, came with a slow and measured step from the vestry and behind him crawled, rather than walked, the bishop, leaning ona cane. He waa a handsome old gentleman, in his full ecclesias- tical robes. but there was something Yery pathetic in the | ttle | procession so plainly betraying the old prelate's feebleness. The white-headed figures, one clad in black, the other majes in white lawn sleeves and scariet hood, yet cruelly shrunken d bowed, passed out by a side door where was waiting the bishop's wheeled chair. IN THE GRAVE YARD. We followed him after an interval and found | Ourselves in a cloistered quadrangle, called the Palm church yard, where there were many Braves. It seemed very peaceful there, « quiet Spot wherein to rest under the shadot of the great tower, no louder sound than the echo of a mtle step in the cloisters, no heavier weight than the flower-strewn grass abovo one. We noticed one mound marked by « new mnite cross, where # fresh buneh of roses had Mitely been placed. “Iswas the grave of the bishop's son. ‘THE EPISCOPAL PALACE. It was but a short stroll through thecloisters to the episcopal palace. This fortified build- ing, dating from the thirteenth century, is one battiemented wall, hung with ivy, which sur- rounds the garden, is inits turn sur- Founded by a wide moat, dappled with lily pods. On the clear quict water a troop of black ducks and one big white swan float lazily and atch rs-by with a view to gifts o bread’ "The taain entrance to the palace is by a drawbridge, permanently down nowadays, leading toa porteuliis, which is up, and shows nothing more warlike than beds of mignonette and Leliotrope within. Above the entrance rises a turret, green with moss and ivy and pierced by narrow windows. in one of which a pot of scarlet geranium forms a spot of vivid color and is retlected fierily in the still water. ‘THE Moat. We followed the bank of the moat under wagnificent elms and saw another view of the pslace. Here the mullioned gables and carved timbering overhung the water and along the wall beneath peaches and apples were trained upon espaliers and nung reddening in the southern sun. We fancied that it must be very pleasant to sit in those recested windows and watch the clouds flit over the green glebe be- yond and the swallows dip and dragon flies flash across the moat, and hear the hum of -| bees from the pleasant gardens within, mean- while enjoying the income of €25,000 a year allowea the bishops of Bath and Wells. “But presently we rewembered the rainy and wintry 8 when the most isa half-frozen mass of slime, when the wind howls coldly in fourteenth century chimneys, and when the grave in the clotstures is white with snow, and we realized that there was another side to the sunny pic- ture. PLEASING SAUNTERINGS. The day had passed m pleasant saunterings through green fields and cloistered gardens, and it was after sunset when we again ap- proached the cathedral. A “popular service for worki: was announced to be held in the nave that evening, and we were anxious to be present at such an unusual ceremony, for cathedrals are rarely used at night, owing to the difficulty of lighting and the im; ity of heating the vast aisles, ‘The great windows were already beginning to glow, although the ruddy sunset lingered in the sky. A SERVICE FOR WORKINGMEN, The nave was filied with benches, and heres large congregation was beginning to assemble. One would hardly have supposed that the de- mure little town could so many people. ‘The sermon was than that of the morning, though not specially intercsting, of 2 type of “oratory long since gone. cut fashion iz our pulpits, But when the Peopis rolled and echoed trough ths sed ie, and echoe roles the effect was, magnificent. ‘The sea ‘tured images of saint martyra, and of old men and children, in other a! iid to ; i worn. The singing was exquisite, elergy and eborr all formed & WONDERFUL Miss OF ARTISTIC DETAIL Qgainst the carven oak and wrought iron of the stalla, above which bung the faded glories of tattered banners, with the glow of the rich i i into the quiet might a glorious moon the ak music still seemed to i F that the lian had killed and entered the Devil's kitchen, ‘This Devil's kitchen, as it was called, was at one time a bear den, and a friend of mine lost his life there in a fight with a griz~ gly. After that it was called vil's kitchen. It was acomfortable cave—large and roomy and above all warm. Not warm enough, however, to do away with a fire, so we kept a big fire going all night. The next morning we took a hunt together and left for home about 10 o'clock, separating as we did on the start. About half an hour after tho start a big storm came up. The enow was blinding and the wind cutting. I thought over the whole matter and concluded that the best thing for we to do was to retreat to the Devil'skitchen, for I had about lost my way. It did not take long to make up my mind, for the snow was fast covering up my tracks. I set out atalively pace and reached the cave about noon. My Lody was chilled throughout and I thought of making a fire. The old fire was out and I commenced to search for my matches, ILunied through every pocket, but no matches could be found. Here was a pre- dicament. Fifteen miles from camp with no es, and the chances decidedly in favor of remaining there all day and maybe all night. What was I todo. A littie curl of smoke came from the dying embers whieh I thought were long since dead. It was the straw that a dying man grasps at, and Twason my knees in an instant blowing for dear life. “But it was no use. Icould discern a tiny spark, but try as I might could not fanit intoa fame. Then I thought of my whisky bottle, and although I hated to do it, pulled the cork and gave the tiny spark a drink. The effect was mar- velous aud ins jiffy I bade flame and later a ‘roaring big fire. I fixed things up a bit, gathered a supply of wood and settled myself for a good night srest, for the condition of things outside made journey home that day out of the question. was scant, but I relichea it and to my blanket and rolled over near the fire and went tosicep. It was dark when I awoke, although it was nearly 9 o'clock. ‘The storm outside had subsided and I was just thinking seriously of breakfast when low growl in a distant portion of the cave set my hair on end and made me feel for my rifi What was ity Where was it? I dared notmo' for fear of making a noise, and 1 wanted to be prepared when the ‘fight came. ‘The thought of the death of my friend in this very cave some years before sent cold chills down my back. Was I to share his fate? Then my reverie was broken up by a move- mat followed by ashufiling in the extreme right end of the cave, and I waited no longer but fired. The shutiling ceased for a moment and a blood-curdling growl broke the stillness. I knew then it was a bear and drew my revolver and shot as fastasIcould pull the trigger. Then I drew my knife, and nono too soon, for the wounded bear was upon me, and we fought itout. Well, hero I am, able to tell the story, which plainly tella the ‘outcome of that fight. Nothing remains to tell, save that I breakfasted off of old bruin and reached home in time for supper. It was a memorable Christmas, how- ever, for me, and I don’t want another such.” galled beri PEN’ ins DIPLOMACY, She Pleased Jack and Went,to the Opera With Dick, From Life. It was the occasion of Jack's third call after the ratification of the engagement that Pen entered the parler with a look of mod- | erate perturbation on her pretty face. After | the usual formalities of a meeting between lovers had been coneluded and the single chair had been properly placod in use, Pen- elope dropped her head on his manly bosom and sighed. A thrill of delight went through Jack's heart when he observed this, What is it, Pen?” he asked, tenderly. “Oh, Lam 40 wabappy,” she replied. “Tell me what it is,” he pleaded. “It's that miserable Mary Toliver,” answered. “What has she done, darlin “it isn't anything that she has done—it's something sie has said.” ‘she ought to be ashamed of herself. What did she say?” she your duty.” “Well—she—she—said that she didn’t believe loved me.”” yshould that bother you? You know that I do.” “Dut I want her to know that you do.” = suppose that is so, darling; but what can we doy “Well, I want you to be jealous of me.” “How ean IY You dou’t give me any reason to be. “T don't want yon to be real jealous of me— only make believe jealous.” “Well, what I°can make believe jealcus about?” “Well, I don't know, but I guess we can fixit. I think Tecan get one of the boys to take me somewhere, and you ean pretend that you are very angry.” “All right,” he laughed, “You go ahead and make the arrangements.” “Well, [ don’t care where I go, but I think I'l get Dick Dash- ing to take me to the opera, May be he won't, though.” “Cll ask him to.” “Oh, mo, no; you must not say a word to him about it. You must pre- tend to be too angry.” “AM right, swee And_s0 Jack suc- ceeded in bringing the smiles back to Pen’s pretty face. In fact, she wax sutling even after he had kissod ‘her good-bye and gone, and she smiled most when she rea: (again Dick received Dashing’s invitation, whieh that morning to go to the opere. “I guess I'did that very verly for a young girl,” Pen thought to herself, smiling. Too Suggestive, From the Pittsburg Chronicle-Telegraph. Dukane—“I suppose you've noticed the fad the women havo of putting snakes on their clothes?” Gaswell—“Yes.” “Embroidered snakes and gilt ‘snakes and all sorts of snakes, used in all corte of ways?” Mr, Quoensware—-“‘Yee, I know; but you must remember he is young yet and his haracter is not fully formed. * He has never been tried by fire,” wh Woodware —“Then you'd better fire aE SS Sears NOT AN UNHAPPY TIME. It Was Celebrated With All the Warmth Pe- eulisr to the Southern Nature—Obstinate Old David Burns Disturbed in His Quiet— ‘Changes of Observance at the Capital. ‘Written for The Evening Star. HRISTMAS TIME IN THE YEAR OF OUR Lord 1891, in this city, large, thriving and growing, beautiful to look upon and pleasanter than any other city to live in, is hardly a good reminder of the first Christmas that the cit Washington ever saw. And yet that first Christmas was not a bad ono, either, for our grandfathers knew bow to enjoy themselves in a hearty, whole-souled way. They had no fur- naces or hot-water heaters to keep their houses ut an even temperature, nor dia they have iron ranges on which to cook the Christmas dinner, but they bad enormous fireplaces in which burned great logs of wood, and near one of theee there was warmth enough and good cook- ing could be done The first Christmas in the capital of the new nation was not an unhappy one. Nearly every resident of Washington knows David Burns’ little cottage at the foot of 17th street and the story of how he and Gen. Washington quarreled about the land for the new federal city. In these days of progress it it is every man’s effort to become as rich as he ean, but David Burna remains a bright and shining example of a man who endeavored to remain, comparatively speaking, poor. A city was to’ be planted on his farm; hacks were to roll over the land whero only farm teams or horseback riders or occasionally some fin tleman’s chariot bad ever been; hotels we spring up; office seekers and politicians were to came and) disturb the peace of David Burns.» All'thiste seemed to foresee. and so he rebelled and de- manded to be let alone—to be permitted to live quietly in iis little cottage, to ‘yh his fertile soil and to bring his children up if safety and ANXIETY TO ORT THE CAPITAL. seclusion. In reading the history of thoso early days it is easy to realize how very near wo came to having no cazital city on the banks of the Po- tomac, Christmas of 1789 saw David Burns se cure in his posscesions, and there was no rea- son for supposing that the three generations of descendants which were to xucceed him would not live like the three generations which had preceded him in quiet rural occupations. But while he sat_quietly in lis little porch in the summer of 178) a great struggle was begivning and bis fate was being decided without his con sent. Yet if he had followed the debates of the new Congress his suspicions would not have been aroused. Congress was then sitting in New York, and on Angust 22 there wus laid before it “the memorial of John Coxand others, citizens of New Jersey and of the state of Pennsylvania, praying that the future seat of governinent might be cetab- lished on the banks of the Delaware, and pro- posing a cession of a tract of land of ten miles Square,” and alittle later in the ter, Pa., wanted to donate a port ritory, and Germantown, near Phi Yorktown, west of the Susquebann: burg, on the Susqueb and Readin, Schuylkill, were ull imentioned as good places for the capital of the United States. No d cision could be reached, and the question was adjourned to the ueat cession of Congres. cHMISTMAS IN 1789. But while there was no Christmas for Waeh- ington—for there was no city of Washington— in 1789, the day was duly observed in the coun- try round about with high feasting and revelry in the true old Virginia and Maryland style. ‘This was certainly very differeit fromthe Puritan New England Christmas. With them the day was solemn and revere and was in reality somewhat in the nature of a protest against the wild merriment of the cavuiiere and | their descendants. Thunkegiving dny wes the ‘ew Englander’ festival und Christmas was the southerner's. It was essentially the old English jollification, and it has been trathfuily remarked that whatever else the southern had Jef: behind them in the old country they had at least brought their Christmas with them, and they celebrate] it on the Potomes very much as their fathers had celebrated itin England. Of course dinner was the most im- ortant event of Christmas day. The huge am, the large turkey, the great joints of beof and’ the wussail bowl of strong liquors were indispensuble parts of the Christmas feast, and before this century was born the eighteenth century went out in a blaze of Christmas glory, because the king of Ciristmas drinks had boon invented: Yer, ega-nog wes drunk by the good people who lived upon the banks of the Potomac before the District of bi ‘Thero was mistletoe chasing into corners and 1 Has the mistletoe disappeared fro: favored r Are we so refined that we can do with- | ont it, and is it improper except ror the ehil- | dren?’ No, no; let us be young again on Charist mas night, and let tho niistictoe hung frou thi chandelier and let 3 enforce the j« is ours of right—that is country Christmas that « their large houses were i relatives, who were a8 numerous es i a highland chief. DAVID LURNS' LAST QUIET CunteTNAS. David Burns never passed another such Christmas as that of 1789. In the summer of 1790 the question of a seat of government came up in Congress again and a commitice of the Senate reported in favo he eastern or rtheastern benk of the Poton: ‘There ch wrangling and jealor this the center of popaiation? Was not Baltimore better? Would uot old Philadelphia do? What mede the Potomae region such a garden spot as the Virginians all decisred it to be? Virginia wanted the earth, Maryland was in favor of Raitimore, Deltimore petitioned and George- town petitioned. James M, a beaver for the Potomac. favor of the Delaware was vo amendments in favor of Baltimore and. Ch mantown, and the bili favoring the Potomac was passed. ‘The Christmas of 1790 found poor David Burns in troub! y consequence in Buri was the husband of the wealthy Mre, Custis— had begun negotiations for the land where our city now stands. “Obstinate Mr. Burne,” Washington called him, was obliged finally to yield, tuo city wae planted and lopue were thrust upon the unwilling owner. ‘There were two children who were ,49, inherit all this money, a boy and girl, and the former. dying left the little girl to become, yp, Zeara, later, “the heiress of Washington.” oy THE FIRST REAL CHRISTMAS IN WASHINGTON. The Christmas of 1800 was the first real Christmas in the capital of the United States. The ten years before had been a trunsition riod. Tho city was laid out, there were # Few scattered bouses, bat. the ov- ernment of the United States ington without the government w. Bu; in October of 1800 there sailed up nothing. the Po- taverns and tavern loafers and |. tomac a packet sloop bearing the goverument records, brought around from Philadelphia, which had until then been the seat of govern: ment. Congress had taken a recess from No- alter that any business was done. The new mem- bers found almost nothing at the city except fine plans. ‘The iit, but not ‘yet i was built, ty of the capitol could “be used o} oe cpartieaty chet nd ia camp ott” Cou Gresmmien were bard put t0 it to fi any place; sleep and many had to live in a wa three miles away, with a desperately bal road between. 18 is fe! {Be ghorue of liscontent which rose officials an: ir ft took possession to discern ane federal | “Sena ‘diséatisfied, le was old ead The ughter whom he had wished to bring up in seclusion was a beautiful pod Christmas came an took holiday, and tne little city made merry as best itcouid. It was, at any rate, an established fact now, and the people who owned it could make or mar it according as they eaw fit. NOT MUCH SOCIAL EXJOYMENT TBE. There were vory few people m Washington then and the social amusements at a Congrese- man’s disposal were few indeed. He was not accustomed, either, to such a during the ten years precedii Washington Congress had met in Philadelphia, then probably the most cultivated, as it was the most luxurious, city in the country, Allat once the Senators and members found them- selves in # piace where it required » struggle to get the necessaries of life aud where there were us yet no iuxuries attainable at all. The few people who constituted the residents of the city thus must have seen each other frequently and the cottage of David Burns was much resorted to. He was pow enormously rich, but he lived simply. He continued to celebrate his Christ- in his cottage. He might have built as fine a mansion as any in the neighborhood, but he did not care to, or perhaps felt too old. Christmas of 1801 shad Christinas of 1800, except that now the cotiage was bei sought out by gallant young men who wante: to sve the beautiful heiress, Maria Burns. Her father saw no more Christmases. He had e2en @ nation Lora and grow into vigorous life; he had seen his broad acres yield a golden crop of houses and streets; he hail seen lus old wife die; he hed seen his only gon, bis pride and joy, die. What matiered ali the improvements that had com he any better off than bo had boen | before? The proiit was for others than old David Barns. He died in 1802, and when the next Christmas came around there was no one of his uame torejoies, for the “heiress of Wash- ingion” was now knowns Mra. John Peter Van 86. a week's ——_—_ SOCIAL INSURGENTS, Ween ‘Who Want to Do Everything That do the Men Do, ‘Mrs. Linton in Ninoteent) Century, Rien nest sacre pour un sapeur. Nothing is forbidden to the wild woman as a social insur- gent; for the one word that she cannot spell is “fitness.” Devoid of this sense of fitness, she oes all manner of things which she thinks bestow on her the power, together with the privileges, of a man; not thinking that in ob- literating the finer distiuctions of sex she is obliterating the finer traits of eivilization, and that every stop made toward identity of habits is a step downward in refinement and delicacy, wherein lies the esscutial core of civilization. She smokes after dinner with the men, in rail- Way carriages, in public rooms—when she is allowed. fhe thinks she is thereby vindicating her independence and honoring her emanci- pated womanhood. Heaven bless her! Down in the north country villages and elsewhere she will find her prototypes culmly smoking their black cutty pipes, with no sense of shame about them. Why should they not? These ancient dames, with ‘‘whiskin” beards about their mou’s,” withered and unsightly, worn out, aud no longer women in desirablenews or beauty—why should they not take to the habits of men? ‘They do not dixgust, because they no longer charm; but even in these places you do not find the younger women with cutty pipes etween their lips Perhapsin the coal dis , where women work like men and with meu, and are dressed as men, you will see pipes as well as hear blasphemics; but that 1 surely not an admirable state of things, and one can hardly say that the pit-brow women, excellent persons and good workers as they are in their own way. are exactly the glasses in which our fine ladies find their loveliest fash- ions—the molds wherein they would do well to run their own forms. Aud when, after din- ner, our young married women and’ busband- less girls, despising the old distinctions and trampling under foot the time-honored con- ventions of former generations, “light up” with the men, they are simply’ assimilating themselves to this old Sally and that ancient Betty dowa in the dales and mountain ham- lets, or to the stalwart cohort of pit-brow women, for whom sex has uo wsthetic distine- tions. "We grant the difference of method. A suyerbly dressed young woman, bust, arms and shoulders baze and gleaming white and warm beneath the subdued light of a luxurious din- ner tablo—a beautiful young creature, painted, dyed and powdered according to the mode —her lips red with wine and moist with liqueur— she is really different from mumping old Betty in unwomanly rags, smoking at black cutty-pipe by the cottage door on the bicak fell-side. In’ the one lies an appeal to the sions of men; in the other is the death of all emotion. Nevertheless, the acts are the sam the circumstances which accompany them alone being different. ‘This desire to assimilate their Ives to those of men runs through the whole dey's work of the wild women. Not content with croquetand lawn tenuis, the one of which affords ample op- portunities for ilirting—for the wild women are not always above that fitthe pastime—and the other for exercise even more violeut than is good for the average woman, they have taken to golf and ket, where they are hindrances for the one part aud make them- selves "for the oi Menu ure not ning, stooping, the’ rest of it so of power that tive tian mere Leauty: but «s school boys are not tught gymuastics after the uanner of the young Greeks, to the rhythmic cadence of music, 4 ment may be rendered au‘omaticaliy graceful, they are often awkward enough when at play, and the harder the work the less there is of artistic beauty in the manner it i ue, ix perhaps more attr of But if meu, with their nar- rower and broader shoulders, are less than classically lovely when they are pat- ting out their physical powers, whit are the whove Lroad hips give « wider step aud iy earzingo in running, and whose arms, because of their uatrower shoulders, do not iend themselves to beautiful curves when they aro making 4 swinging stroke at golf or batting and bowling at cricket? ‘The preitiest woman in the world losses her beauty when at these violent exercises. Hot und damp wopping her fluelod and streaming face with her handserchief, she bas lost that sense of repose, thut delicate seif-restraint, which belongs to’ the ideal woman. Sho is no longer dainty. She has thrown off laer grace and xbandoned all that mukes her lovely for the uncomely roughness of pastimes wherein she cannot exeel and of which it was never iu- tended sho should be a pariaker. We have not yet heard of women polo players, but that wiil come. In the absurd endeavor to be like men, these modern homasses will leave nothing untried: and polo-playing, tent-pogging, and tilting at the quintsin are all sure to come in timo, Whien weeds once to grow, no limits can be put to their extent unless they are stubbed ypbetimes. Tho wild women, in their charac- to graocil insurgents, are Lound by none of Ou ventions which once reguiated socic! Inthe the odd social phenomenon of the'tcluntary descent of the higher to lower forms of ways and works “Uuladylike" 18 aterm that has ceased to be signifi icant. Where “unwomazly” has died out, we could scarcely expect this other tosurvive. ial must nceds go with the goneric; and we find it so with a vengeance! With other queer inver- sions the frantio desire of making money has invaded the whole class of wild women; and it does not mitigate their desire that, as’ things cro, they have enough for all reasonable wants. Women’ who, a few years ago, would not havo shaken bands with a dreasmakor, atill leas have satdown to table with her, now open shops ‘and set up in business on ‘own account— not use are poor, which would be Toason enough, but beca are rostless, pasate (indignantly)—“T ain't no chicken “Idon't want you to steal them. Inst re- too, | got Different Replies From Different People as to | How the SENATORIAL STATIONERY. Wants of Members of the Upper House Are Supplied. MEX WANT SOMETHING TO ADD TO THEIR PEB- | THE STATIONERY ROOM AXD ITS MTSTERIES—THE SONAL COMFORT AMD WOMEN LOOK FOR SOME LUXURY—GIVE THE ONILDREN TOYS aND LET ‘THEM ENJOY THEMSELVES. 8 SOMETHING APPROPRIATE TO THE season the following conversations between a writer for Tue Stam and several representa- tives of the human race who have the good for- tune to live in Washington are given. The first representative is «young man who dressee Il and is not ashamed to own that he is fond of elegant personal belongings. He tray- els around to neighboring cities, too. Some- times he visits the sntellites of Washington in Maryland and Virginia and oceasionally be goes north and takes a look at the capital's ri- vals—Philadelphia, New York and Boston. This gentleman's name is Johnson. johnson,” said the writer, “what would you like for a Christmas present?” lt will be ob- served that there was no promise involved of Giving him what he likes “Why,” said he, “my dear boy, I would take it very kind of you if you would give me one of those neat little silver traveling flasks,” A mental note, which has since been lost, of Johnson's wants was taken id presently old Thompson was met. Olid hompson doesn't travel much now, but is a home man and likes his ease. “Thompson,” said the writer, “I am think- ing of making you a Christmas present. Now, what would you like best, old fellow?” Here, must be noticed that the present had not beyond the stage of a thing to be reflected on. | It is still an intangible thought. Thompson smacked his lips. “Bless me,” | said he, “can’t you send to Charleston and get mea turkey tlat has been fed in the rice fields? T assure you it is the noblest bird on earth. Itis not probable that Thompson's wish will be realized. Life is too short and South Caro- lina is too far. ‘Tho next person encountered was the gallant Col. Jones. “Colonel, it is the wish of my heart to re- member you on Christmas day. What form should my remembrance take?” ‘To remember him is easy and will cost nothing. ‘The colonel smiled. “My friend,” he said, “I have lost my cigar casc. You can get charming ones down town, Iay no more. And thus it transpired that of these three g00d citizens one associated his idens of « pleas- ing gift with the pleasures of drinking. another with eating and the third with smoking. Not to be partial, a haphazard inguiry was mude as to the presents desired by fhe women. The scene can be imagined. “My dear,” says the loving busband to his loving wife, “what do you want for Christmas?” She nestles close tohim and confesses she would be happy if she had a new sealskin clouk. “And you, my dear daughter, what can I get you! “Oh. do let me have a turquoise ring or a chatclain watch.” Now. wouldn't it have been a great deal bet- ter if the wife had asked for a ton of coal or half a dozen fine sugar-cured hams? And wouldn't it bave been beautiful if the daughter had implored her father to give ber a Webster's International Dictionary, which her little brother might sit upon instead of bis high chair? Batitis not probable that the wife would be very much pleased if Christmas brouzht her coal aud hams, nor would the daughter rave over adictionary. The truth of the matter is thata Christmas present is something in the nature of a luxury and few people want to re- ceive a thing which they would probably come by in the ordinary course of affairs. Coal and hams and dictionariesare the proper everyday belongings of wives and daughters, but ‘seal- skins and turquoises belong to unusual occa- sions. Christmas comes but once a year, and it is a great pity for sume reasons that it doesn't come oftener. "Just think of the amount of money the merchants make. From their point of view if every day were Christmas it would be lendid. They would soon become billion- aires and the rest of mankind would soon ome paupers. From the children’s standpoint Christmas is a great thing, too. They receive presents, but they do not make any. Honors are easy so far ae they are concerned. To the young girl who likes to do fancy work and who took time by the forelock and began on her Christroas presents Janvary 1 the day is not bad either. “She has now about finished her task. For one male relative sie hase pair of bed-room slippers, ‘fhe soles are of soft, fluffy wool: the toot is of worsted; they tio about the ankle with two strings. which have fancy colored balls attached. It takes about five minutes to get them on and two minutes anda half to get them off, but they are very comfortable. At any rate they are warm enough. As you put them on the day you receive them you reflect that you could volunteer with perfect safety onan arctic relief expedition. “Then, for another male relative this clever young girl has worked a contrivance in which to keep pocket handker- chiefs. It is deliciously scented; it is of tufted silk or satin. How fortunate the bachelor thinks he is as he inserts his handkerchiets im it on the afternoon of December 25. If he doesn't make use of it alter Jan- uary 1 it is because he is by uature ungrateful creature, To another relative the girl gives a cu chine for holding shaving papers. She pute five variously colored papers in it. These the prond recipient of this gift uses up, and then he uses the thing no more, being utterly unable to sce how paper ean be got into it. An ingen- ious Woman ai-o makos snchets, picture frames, table covers and a hundred ocher things, Her Christinas presents have not proved expensive so far as actual outiay of mouey is concerned. untidy, Ot couree, if the vaiue of her time were consid- ered, it would be a diferent ¢ penditure, if « z, and the ex- iculoted xt 50 cents per hour of ‘amount to about $1,000. of people io whom ing—these are the of money and are . ‘they must have a de- lightiul time. To go into a shop and buy what you want and to Leable to pay for it in solid cash, it must be a pleasure indeed. But if you haven't any moncy and have a lot of relations who you know expect presents o1 Christmas, what are you going to dor You are ina box, as it were. If you give them the presents you run in debt, if you don't give them presents you “get yourself disiiked.”” On the miole ormaihing, being wien into con- sideration, it is probable that less trouble arises from pureviug the former course. Get the Presents as ur landiady wait f 3 er for board, your washwoman wait, too; but give your relations presents ou Christmas day, it you know what is good for yoarself. ‘it’ is, as every man with relatives. knows, better to quarrel with @ thousand friends than with cue reiative. Not to say anything about the moral of the thing, it must be re- marked that 4 thousand ex-friends, now your enemies, cannot make it lnlf as uncom- fortable for you as the one relation who has a mild grudge against you. He—or she—won't forgive you iu "a hufry, and in the meantime you will be met by reprisals and surprises until—no matter whether you are in the wrong or not—you will be glad to sue for mercy and promise a change in your conduct. It is ad- visable then if you are on bad terms with some relative that you improve the opportunity by buying a fine present for that relative give it with hopes for a merry Christmas, From the conversations which have been giver: above it would appear that the most ac- ho SRS far cloak oF = pretty of rather more than man. apple dh this earth Wings ‘ought to spront from her she ought to soar aloft. The streets are bright with the Christmas shoppers. ae per oa) imes thers his slender of dollars ‘aa ith it what he BH 4 g H BE 4 i i ft ee i : ni it f : § i ESE riff i f DAYS OF QUILL PEXS—MANT BOLLIONS OF F: VELOPES—THE ALLOWANCE MADE TO EAC SENATOR—THE MAN WHO KEEPS THE SUPPLIES. WS 4 UNITED STATES SENATOR wants a few sheets of paper oran envelope oF ® pen he does not have to send out to a dis- tant store to have his needs supplied: if he is in the Capitol he simply summons = page and sends him to the stationery room with an order. The stationery room is a Kreat institation, both im the Senate and the House. It is the Senate establishment which is now under considera- tion. “The stationery room,” as Judge Campbell Would say, “is two rooms.” Of late years the stock has occupied apartments which were never illumined by daylight, but during the Past eummer the goods, wet and dry—and the attaches were removed to the rooms across the corridor from and south of that senatorial subdivision which is lnbeled “refectory,” but which everybody calls “the restaurant.” The new quarters are decidedly better than the old ones, for on bright afternoonsa ray of reflected sunshine may occasionally stray in. ily there is enough diffused da the electric light useless during the central tion ofa workin . As near this o1 jone window as thoy can possibly be equeez are the desks of “the keeper of stationery.” Mr. Charles N. I: nd the/assistant keeper, ms, both faithfully and Capitol employes, and a fe < these are prob: ly on the Senate ir the possession hich ally referred to positions are ery room. ‘That apartment is ‘hat open all the vear round. Other lines of work cease when the session comes to an end,but the stationery room doors are open during the recess just as they nro whe Congress is'mak- ing more or iess successful Llufts at earning its saiary. From now until the loug session of the Fifty-second Congress is no more all hands will’ be busy. CAMPAIGN STATIONERY. Then there will bea sudden increase of business, for there area large number of Senators who want the same sort of stationery at home that they Set here,so there is much packing and shipping of goods. Then the empty shelves have to bo reladen, and this involves a complete stock taking. By that time the second session will be on deck. Next year promises to be remark- able for the amount of business transacted through the stationery room. It will be a presidential year, and that means to that many millions of envelopes be used in dissemination of ¢: documents will be necded. Every good in the Senate, to say nothing of thosp whe sist that they are bot partisans, will make at least one specch, which can be circulated with Last presidential year the Senate stationery room provided Senators House end the demand brought forth 22,000,000. Next year the demand for envelopes will be greater than ever and this means that every envelope factory in the country will be running over time all th summer long. THE SE>aTORIAL ALLOWANCE. There is « general impression abroad that Great abuses exist in connection with the sup- plying of stationery to legislators. Years ago there may have been good and sufficient foun- dation for a tride of suspicion, but that foun- dation no longer exists. Each Senator is an nually allowed the sum of 3125 for stationery and newspapers. Ifhe gets more stationery than $125 will pay for he has to go down into his pocket and bring forth the necessary cur- rency. A great many Senators—meu whose correspondence 1s continuous and large—do have to purchase large quantities of paper and envelopes; the stationery allowance is insufficient for such as these. People who know little or uothing of congressional labors may find it dificult to believe that some Senators expend between $400 and £500 every merely for postage stamps. When Ge Tagen was ia the Benete hte postage «tam frequently exceeded $1,000 a year. Postal e penses have decreased to a considerable extent since the franking privilege was extended to such correspondence as a member of Congress might have with any federal officer. Under the present law no postage is required when a Senator or Representative writes to a post- ter, an internal revenue officer or any other United States official. A large stock of en- velopes designed especially for this class of correspondence fiudsa lodging place in the stationery room. It used to be that at the beginning of each session each Senator was given Stationery—termed a “starter.” That meant a big morocco box of paper and envelopes and the necessary et cetera. If be was married his wife got an assortment, too, and if be had daughters they aiso received individual tokens of the Senate s good wishes and nation’s lib- crality. There was no limit then to the amount of stationery Senaturs could draw, but even with the fences down there was but little ex- travagance. This year the only gratuity was @ big morocco portiolio. ‘The sensation monger bas frequently tried to make interesting material out of the fact that the press gallery is supplied with stationery from the official fount. “‘Ihere are more than one hundred and fifty correspondents in the gallery, and yet the supplies (urnished them never @: €200 in value during any year. All that goes to the gallery is writing paper, envelopes, pe pens, ink and mucilage. AMERICAN PAPER IN DEMAND. Avery large and comprehensive stock is carried in the Senate room, and any attempt to catalogue it would simply result in naming almost if not quite every articlecommon to the stationery business. Everything is of good quality—the best in most instances. For com- mon goods the demand is very light. One of the noticeable features of the tion of supplies is the enormous stock of tablets. ‘Twenty years ago the tablet was comparatively unknown and certainly of only uncommjon use. ‘Today in this country there is more used im tablets than in any other form. ‘Ihe tablet ian American idea, and that it is popular in the Senate must be evident when it becomes known that there are fully 10,000 of them in the stationery room. ‘len years ago Mr. Richards would have thought his shelves over- loaded with « thousand of the now universally used articles, ‘The sale of American-made writing paper is increasing. Fora long time — had a monopoly on the manufacture of high grado paper, but now the American article is fuily equal to the best. The French and turers are away behind, Their products are fanciful and artistic, bat when the comparison with English or American paper is based on quality thea neither the Gaul nor the Teuton is “in it” Some of STS in the stationery room bas been in for thirty years, and has, therefore, a value above pe i # f | 8 velope has outlived its usefulness. this latter class must have found into the Capitol in the sixties, f Garrett Davis is on record as ba resolution calling upon the stationery “to provide en a large picture of the Capitol iter paper, a and with an indirect 4 5 / fi i Hg 5 j 5 E i Ie beg if i F j 7 i energetic. When these two are on duty only one-half the numerical force is at work. Capt. ols, quietly complaisant, is the third in point of | ik. while Moses Jessup, who is large, muscu- | lar, good-natured and a pr: brunette, concludes the roll of employes. Some of th the assistance of an unlimited and inexpensive | | eupply of franks. with just 15,000,000 envelopes. Over at the | | | | and basin are revea.ed, with slop | are always come around to load up with some of the goods ther o: eleewhere: there are knives, peneie c the Senate and procured at @ everything is cheaper tha: would be in the closest-cutting bargain and that in itself. Quite of that ethn adervors to make Bot possible. the line be- tweon the official and the unofficial is very tughtiy and v ly drawn. Specimens of the genus are frequent visitors, They ordinarily want a sheet of paper and an envelope and they insist that both shall be of the regulationsort. They never get thom. As a rale they want the officiai!y headed paper for the purpose of deceiving + innocent one, although they never state that fact THE KEEPER OF STATIONERY. Twenty-eight years ago the joint influence of Senators Sumner and Wilson resulted in the ap- poiutment of a badiy wounded Union soldier to a place on the Senate pay r twonty- eight years has Mr. Richards been engaged the stationery room. His original the making of quill pens. Te tion would bear close resemb! cure, for Senator Morrill of only man at the ( was different ermont 1s the I who usos the quill Is Those were the times when always asked for # pen that would «pe 1, 2 Morrill ot Maine co:tinually complai t the pens made 1 Kineton never would write so that the writing could be understood. Now, every body an the Senate, with the one exception re- ferred to, uses stecl pens—American pens. The English ‘pens are Bo longer s home-made article. ne There is aiways active demand for the pens last used by amen of renown. Mr. Ricbarde has some of these, notably the one used by Sumner. es — if Mr. Richards would only all talk about Lis experiences with Senators great deal of interesting literary material would be turned Tose an admirable specimen of the ideal public servant, heaping the overs without regard to political considerations. Ag Senators and ex-Senators the keeper of the stationer is one of these. There is northern end of the Capitol that in the democrats had control of the iow himeelf to miidenees of all’ bis ex se Kichurds owed his retention very largely to the apostle of the big bandana, Thorman w © man of the committee which was weigh ing and dividing the epoils, av the committee the adiutnistration of the sta- onery roum was discus When the meet ing ended Thurman sou, end after saluting him jubilantly saved you. Go home ¥ boy is safe.” He and all the ‘ov ° mem! of the committee know that Mr. Richards was republican, but that made no diticrenco to them. 4 MEMORY OF LINCOLN. The old stationery room was the apartment now occupied by the official reporters. At one Of the windows of this room Mr. Richards w: sitting when President Lincoln walked up # steps, aud—it was the day before Lince éetond inauguration — discussed with the wounded soldier the probabilities of pe b ted end, ing pushed over the unpro stone steps while the in proceeded. ‘Tem public satety w cideuts on the said sir. Richard: toa Sram reporter, “when I learn that day secking to murder Mr. Lincoln, frequently was impressed by the fact tuat while the President's own life was b ing sought he Was seoking the safety of others.” NOVELTIES 1 Beautiful Things ‘Christmas Presents to Decorate the Household. “The dado is as extinct as the dodo,” said the head of @ great furnishing house to a Sran writer yesterday. “Wide friezes for the walls are in favor, the extreme of the style being one-third che beight of the room. There have never been such beautiful wall papers as there sre this year, both in design and coloring. For libraries, dining rooms aud halls rich terra cottas and magentas are very proper, but light greens are the newest, olive and moss greens Particularly. Drawing rooms should be adorned with rococo and Louis Seize patterns. Bed chamber papers are in dainty little Marie An- aud Watteau designs; also in chinte “The newest draperies should be of light and ‘Tapestries also da used, as well as brocatelles, satin damasks, flax velours and ‘Titian velours. There is a new silk fabric that is becoming popular with figures Lrought out in cotton aud tinsel. In carpets the latest things aro of English Axminster, made to or- der without seams in shapes to fil the room. “Bird's-eye maple is the latest waterial for sets of furniture. Another entire no wavy birch wood. The latter ix susceptible of a very high polish aud resembles satin wood. Dressing tables are made of either for the boudoir with triple glasses that fold together. Brass Ddedsteads usually go with these. Bamboo dressing tables and entire bed room suites of bamboo are very popular. Also for the same purpose hard white woods, like maple and birch, ar: much employed, painted wita white enamel } amtand touched up with gold leaf. Sometimes silver ley is used with the cnamel invtead. Lamboo chamber sets are Particularly the fashion for young ladies’ rooms. “Beds of brass or of i ainted white, with brass trimmings, are more popular this year than ever before. Mahogany, with trim- ings of brass, pervades everything and ix found, inall possivie shapes and puito all possible uses in furniture. New mahogany, unstained, bas altogether superseded the old dark finish. Cheval dressing tables, with glasses nearly to the floor on one side and big receptacles on the other side for bonnetsand what not, are the rage. Sometimes, instead of @ bonnet box, there i = cute Little escriteire, with pigeon holes. The Very newest mirrors for sideboards and dressing tables are shaped like ahiclan. Dining tables il square and run to heavy square lege. china closets are made all of glass, with re of silks, which delicate colorings. ol Corner glass sheives, bowed giass fronte and mirror backs. 7 “there are more ingenious devices in fur- nitare this year tor saving «pace in «mall quar- ters than ever before. A new kind of foldi When the table top is pushed aside a et be- neath, while a towel bar pulls out at the side. The most com sort also a reservoir of fresh water und a litte HE Hs Li i HH sao paratus for pi itinto the basin. There are deat wash and bureaa washstands likewise. One of table washstand bas 9 mirror on the of the topof the table, so that when is turned up on end there is a gicas to while one performs one's §