Evening Star Newspaper, May 21, 1892, Page 10

Ls < =~ gs : instend of s belt, and at thé bottom between STYLES OF DRESS. |Besetntin tne, tere ote om of -—— the skirt and closes tnvsibly atthe owt tts The Art of Trimming 6 es Ar- mands over a fitted ning and is set off by a silk tistically. . FASHIO» OF THE DAY. + Appropriate Garniture = Vital Question for Charming ‘fects of Suitable Combinations Stylish Walking Dreeses— For Garden artiesThe Summer Jacket. Summer Naw Your, May 20, 1892. OOD SAUCE, SAYS an old proverb, will ave a poot dinner, land it is probably quite ‘as true that you can J make « stylish gown {. rial if you will only trim it artistically. We ‘trim our speech with flowery and compli- mentary language, and it seems only logical that we should make our attire ornamental as well aa useful. It is money well expended, for if the dress re- formers ever succeed dressing us all alike it will be » life puszle for us to get at the ‘characters. of onr fellow creatures. It is not the gown that a woman wears, but the style in which it is trimmed, that telis us who fend what she is. A woman might be able to ‘conceal her feelings and control her tongue, but ashe would be sure to betray herself by the gar- miture of her attire. The length of a ribbon the style in which a bow is tied often speak ader than words. ; APPROPRIATE GARNITURE. With the near approach of summer this ques Baton of appropriate garniture becomes an im- wnt one, and on the subject of sashes alone might say a great deal. All kinds are sure to Fe poplar, not only such as conform to the ‘Wattean bat those which, with their short ends and loops, are set either on ‘the right of left. The ribbon sash, too, promises 4o be very much affected, the wider ones being wound around the’ figure twice or three times, then drawn down to one side and finished with esingle loop or # long narrow slide or buckla. |For « long waist a soft pongee saa jwaye extremely becoming, only gr care must be observed in it 80 a8 to give it gracefally careless folds, fastening it with a simple knot and two ends. Tn the initial illustration is shown » charming sash effect. The gown may be made up in any woolen material with silk of the same shade. ‘The right front of the corsage is double, the outer being cut as indicated and orna- mented witha bias rever, ranning to a point atthe shoulder seam. The cuffs are in the turned-back style and there ise large bow of at the neck, the ends of which de- under the rever. og Tho sit scarf is tied around the waist and’ has ends. STYLISH WALKING DRESS. ‘The second illustration pictnres a stylishly de- walk‘az dress, whieh may be made up in _ of the p»pular fabries of the season. It is ext ,, and the back pieces, the seams of which start from the shoutder, are cut very bias {the for and they make up the train. Ae the ide which crosses has no seam in the middle of ‘the skirt it is sewed to the other until within abont fifteen inches of the waist line: after that it is buttoned. In order to make the tabs properly you shonkd make use of a card pattern, basting the outlines lining the material with muslin. The tabs a should be edged with bengaline, and so also shonid the bottom of the skirt. The trimmings Of the sleeves should be included in the inside seam and the style of the straight collar should conform to the buttoned tab patiern, parss FoR With the coming in of ane it is only to be expe irl should poetic month of 1 that Oren tain to take sdvam for what woman doesn't feel looks her Dest when embowered or sitting hike | Queen Titania on a flowery bed with musk Foses | her har and the wen party are to be t style of @atdoor fete, my lad expected to arrive ‘that will pat cate are the t tistic the wake-ups of oF season. [nthe third pi be aa harming gown for an © w fete. The mate- ial is white crepe with multi-colored satin stripes. In selecting the moire ribbon for trim- ming Fou may either choose ng ‘with the ground of the m the stripes. The dress should be lined with Satinette, and the bottom of the skirt be finished with a pleated floanee of the materin, with Fosettes et as indieated and forming the head Of the 2 ‘The front and back of the cor- sage ix pleated. ‘There is but one seam, which & placed under the arm. DETAILS OF THE DRE ‘The lining of the cormge should be earefally Btted and boned before.the erepe tissue is laid on. The dress hooks at the back. The neck and armholes are not cut out until the ma} rial has been completely adjusted. ‘The collar forms part of the pleated front and bae Draces start from the edreelet and have bows on ‘the shoulders, and, although the corselet is very wide in front, it diminishes toa point at the back, where the braces meet and end in a bow. It is made of the moire ribbon and should be Boned. Atthe back the long ends fall to the Bottoin of the skirt. They are of one piece ‘with the braces and pass under the corselet, which is set off with a frill of the material, ‘under which at the front the moire ribbons are very flowers to a, 60 ds just, so deli- ¥ the fabrics, so ar- door toilets this ial or with one of | RECEPTION COSTUME. muslin yoke, beneath which you remove the lining and garniture with a bertha of gui or other lace sewed on with reversed seam. are no darts in the material. It is pleated on the lining. The back pieces are slightl; leated at the waist and have a seam in the m le. Aruche of pink ribbon is placed above the Ince bertha on the right. The belt consists of velvet leaves laid ona tulle foundation and edged with pearl chenille fringe. The sleeves are made very large at the top. ‘TRE SUMMER 5ACKET. No summer girl can pronounee her ontfit complete unless it contains a jacket of some sort, and if she has a pretty figure she will never consent to hide it under a shapeless coat, for the summer girl, no matter how frivolous and thoughtless she may appear to be in matters sentiment, when it comes to the ical concerns of life you will find her extremely long-headed. She knows that men are coy and beauty fleeting, and she also knows that there is no time like the present, for who caf tell whether the same fish will be in fashion’s pond the next season, especially if some sister drops a golden hook in these waters. Therefore, now is the time for the skillful mother to drop a fashion fly in front of a matrimonial trout. He is pretty sure to rise to it. FOR AN OUTDOOR FETE, Some very stylish jackets have the fronts cut away and others have a elose, high vest braided thickly, or the fronts are turned back and braided and the vest is plain and fastened with frogs or barrel buttons. Fine silky vicuna ina warm tone of brown sets off delightfully the tints of the skirt. Usually fronts are braided from the bust down and the back is finished to correspond. In my last picture you see represented a natty little jacket in white eloth with acollar of gray surah, The dress material is a black and pale-gray striped pekin, the gray stripe having applique velvet designs in pink and dark green. bonnet is of white pleated erep de chine, small ‘leaves and a big butterfly. | No doubt there will be many to affect the mannish attire again this season, a style of outdoor dress in which the English women fairly revel. And the fact is the jacket bodice, opening on a reul shirt front relieved by a deep sash, is very becoming to the red-cheeked robust girl, who always has an air of being half minded to. walk over the bodies of her frail sisters. For this style of girl the so-called Eton coat is well adapted. It is simply a juelesa corsage, with broad lapels ‘opening on a blouse or surah shirt. It is well suited for rough wear, when boating, picnicking or tramping. ‘The straight collar and four-in-hand tie go with it, READGEAR. In the way of headgear the summer girl bids fair to get quite back to the days of her great grandmother, as the very names “Mother Hub- bard,” “Mother Goose,” “Queen Anne” and “Weish Peasant” indicate. The Mother Hub- bard ia a faithful copy of the head eovering worn by that pleasant dame of our nursery days, the crown inclining backward, fising in a narrow oval peak to the height of five or six inches, with a brim of curled edge tipped down in front and curled up. at the back. This unique model looks charminy in beige-colored Malan straw, the brim face with a welt of velvet in beige color, a welt of the velvet around the crown forming a knot at the front, which holds an Alsatian bow of French erape in straw color and a great wide flat bow of straw-colored velvet at the back. oo NAPIER AND THE SWORDSMAN. How the English General Was Convinced by @ Jaggler's Feat. From the Chicaen Herakt. After Napier’s battles with the Hindoos op- posed to the English a famous juggler visited the camp and performed his feats before the general, his family and staff. Among other per- formances this man cut in two, with a stroke of his sword, a lime or lemon placed in the hand of his assistant. Napier thought there was some collusion between the juggler and his ¥e- le by a sweep of the sword so small an object on « man’s hand without touch- ing the flesh he believed to be impossible, though a similar in ted by Scott in his romance of the To determine the point the general offered his own hand for the experiment and he stretched ont his right arm. The juggler looked very attentively at the hand and said that he would not make the experiment. RY thonght I would find you out!” exelaimed Napier. “But stop,” added the other: “let me sec yonr left hand.” The left was submitted, and the man then said firmly: “If you will hold your arm steady I will perform the feat.” “Bnt why the left hand and not the right?” “Because the right hand is hollow in the nd there ix a risk of eutting off the r was startled. “I got frightened,” he Isuw it was an actual feat of delicate if Thad not abused the efote my staff and challenged H trial, I honestly sknowiodgs I would have retired from the encounter. How- ;| ever, I put the lime on my hand and held out y. The juggler balaneed himself, swift stroke cut the lime in two I the edge of the sword on my as if acold thread had been drawn across coe AN INCORRIGIBLE PARROT. It Acquired a Language That Was Distaste- fai to Its Owner. From Feathered World. An old maiden huly, who strongly objected to “followers,” had as a Companion a gray parrot with a wonderful faculty for picking ap sen- tences. One day the old lady hed eause to severely reprimand one of her. maids fora breach of the “follower” ordinance. ‘This so irritated the girl that as a windup to the re- cital of her wrongs, in the hearing of ber fellow servants and Polly, who happened to be with them, she exclaimed passionately, “I wish the | oldlady was dead.”” ‘The parrot lost no time in showing off it newly required hen owt taken into the dra ap te of ite elderly jnistrest, who su S | ak once, consalted the viear, who Kindly | count shmest” presoh w shest Sormeh "ei ec inost a i | palms, Re. to ‘be kept a short time wilh the impious oue in order to correct its ‘To this end they were kept together in room for afew days, when the lady paid them a visit in company with her adviser. Placed bias on the front breadth. ‘The puffed Soy ste crnemmated with ribbon bracelets the deep euffs are trimmed with bows, as Sndseated. ‘The fourth iHastration represents a lovely re: eeption drew of emerald bengaline. ehonid be lined silk or some hight (sue® of the mme shade. The shirt has s band To their intense horror, immediately the door ‘was opened, the lady's parrot saluted them with | the ominots phrase, "J. wish the eld. Ind was dead!” the viear's bird > all the solemnity of am old clerk, “The Loed hear our prayer.” —+oo___ She Expected More. From the Detroit Free Press. ¢ Clubleigh: ‘Mire Von Smith's marriage wi: ” -Pommery—“Oh, no, not quite so bed as that. The men she amie was worth $250,000." ; the left is high, and the danger will be | hat | thought it was a warning from another world. |. THIS WAS WAR. A Visit to the Town of Fredericke- bare, Ving WHERE THE BATTLE RAGED. was eilvering roof, tres and garden, and silence lay over this quaint, sleeping city with » bloody, tmgic history—a silence broken only by the » solemn tories of Christ Chureh bells mothers’ boys; bright-eyed sweethensts: the of lisping, early beaded toter the heart's Ae of loving even is the fare off northetn homed, \sy were, wiapped in slumber, bright visions of home and loved ones floating before them, and the death ~— unseen, hovering over all. I think sadly night over my own loved and lost who were in that gallant arrey. Comrades, brothers, tried and true, voiceless now afd gone forever. A SLEEPING ARMY. Stretched in front of the sleeping army, all along the crest of frowning heights, wore 147 bleck-mazzled im fearful array, Tout oat salpherous whisiwind of ery hall ve it out @ silpharous wi on this evened tay and open up the bioodiest tragedy in “And the hhetoie Heaters, what of them? there behind those hills, in the old , afterward wept away in the fed tide of war, were gathered stern and solemn council the men on whore swords a loyal nation depended in thie supreme and breathless hour, Burnside, in all the flower of his imperial manhood wae there; Hancéek, the superb; the lionshenrted old Sumnéf; the loved and knightly Reynolds, whose brilliant : career was ift a few short months to to immortality at Gettysbarg; Joe Hooker; sturdy French, who, Sgabendy led the amenlt two. days inter over the stone wal at Marye’s Heights—an assault, as desperate and more hopeless thatt Pickett's famous charge, nd Humphreys, who was to win undying honor in the same desperate but hopeless struggle, aud Couch and Franklin, and Sykes, the bie, and a score of others were there—heroes all—-and where are they to- night, and where the gallant divisions they led to certain but sublime defeat? This gentle midnight wind brushes over thove hille where Spe Shey rod ant taeoush these streets where 40,000 of them were massed in close array wait- ing for hae pe to amault; but they arg gone, and to me this soft wind comes laden with sighs and requieme and a silent army of specters are massed in the streets of Frederickeburg. But what of the other side? On the crescent of hills circling round thie city, inelosing it like the rim of « saucer, slept that night 70.000 men who wore the gray—men just as brave, with hearts just as warm, homes just a8 loving as those of their blue-coated brethren across the river—and tomorrow these men were to grapple in the struggle of death. And between them slept this doomed city on the nignt of December 12, 1842. Beebe Sead turteyanke rellowed ai,” THE SIONAL FoR THE rion. So it slept till, at 4 o'clock in the morning, two cannon shots boomed out on the stillness of night from Marye’s Heights, the agreed signal to the confederates that the Union forces were attempting to cross the river, and the dance of death had begun. What followed history tells. But who shall tell what sights and scenes, what sobs and groans, what terrible dying agonies these now silent streets, Hf these people here tell. me that aftor the Union rmy retired across the river the dead soldiers wore lying in the streets, on the door steps, in the houses, door yards and gardens. One Indy told me that when she returned to her house four with’ their ing G. A. R men from the north sought out her house and recognized the place where they had brought their wounded com- ing hed along the to Fredericksburg, the ambu- Harb, public building a3 movt of the poivers church, public building of vate ho jounded men drove the gloom away; aod right here T may fay, Jn passing, Fredericksburg now bas a good DRIVING OVER THE FIELD. Through the kindness of the Chancellorsville wel med horses with plenty of life and grit. First we drove titough where the ind-to-hand fighting: the 12th of December, ahd then drivigg out by the way of the Telegraph road we folfewed the line of the Ey 5 i E oF PE, itis ii z ral lt fi | & f E 3 He Lj 5 3 | F Fa i > 2. ‘3 bt i: ae 2 i i i i : 4A PRACEFOL stout Xow. Standing on the epot this bright May morn ing, watching the sleek, well-fed cows grazing over the verdant slopes our Brave fellows ming of the eyes ind a choking sensation in the throat, at such tseles, necdloss laughter, and tries t0 picture that’ terrible scene of thirty years ago. Cotch’s drendful picture rises be- foreme: ‘“Iremember the whole plait was coveted with mien ptosteate and dropping the Sesion gr exch Siaor ani he voseise oomaiag ol yn each other, and the wou eoming back. The commands seemed to be a Thad never ‘before seen fighting like this, nothe a] inj in ‘rible uptoat tuelton. i Longstreet’s is even worse: ‘So the te went on. A fifth time the fedetals formed, charged and were reptised. A nixth time they charged and were driven back, when. night came to end the dreadful carnage and the fed- eral withdrew, leaving the battlefield literally heaped with the bodies of their dead, Bofor the welldirected fite of Cobb's brigade the federals had fallen like the steady oe ft the rain from the eaves of a house. Our mus- hetry alone hilled and wounded at lonat 5,000, and these with the slwaghter by artillery left over 7,000 killed and wounded before the foot of Marye's Hill. The dead were piled some three deep, and when morning broke the cle we «aw upon the buttlefield was one of imost distressing I ever witnemed. I thought ne I saw the federals come fignin and again to their death that they deserved success M courage and daring could entitle soldiers to vietory.” After teading this touching tribute fromn the pen of a generous und pitying foe the mind re- verts toa parallel scene in history, where amid fire and smoke and the gathering shadows of night the wasting battalions of the impertal guard on the field of Waterloo disappeared for ever from the pages of history, leaving only a memory erystalized and immortal in its glorious epitaph, “The Old Guard dies, but never sur- tendera.” So with the heroes of Fredericksburg. All honot to them, living and dend! THE RED BRICK HOUSE, « We ride slowly and with uneovered head along the street they trod toward the red brick house. Hete was the very center of that seorch- ing whirlwind of destra¢tion. Every cannon shot from the peaceful-looking hill over there tore down here through “‘a flery mass of living valor” and carried broken hearts and groans and tears through many a northern home. All the accounts I have read of the battle state that our farthest advance never reached farther than fifty or sixty yards beyond thi« Gen, Couch, in hin story, speaks of riding to this brick house late in the after- noon and finding it packed with men, and be- hind it the dead and living were as thick as they could be erowded together, and the dead and aleo dead horses were rolled together for breast- works, Off here to the left on this plain of death I try to locate the line where the second brigade of Svkes’ division was plaeéd duting the night after the aseault. ‘One who was with the command writes that when morning unveiled the ghastly picture about them almost an army lay abont ts and sentteted baek over the plain toward town. Not only |, but many of the badly wounded, hardly distinguiehable from the dead, were there too. To die groveling on the ground ot fallen im the mire is dreadful indeed. ‘The pallid faces and the clammy hands clenching their ranskety looked ghastly inthe morning fog light. The new bright blue overcoats onl¥ made the sight ghastlier. brigade when daylight came found itself so near the dreadful stone wall that the men yet unable to retire or move in their places, and lay upon their faces all through that trting day without food or drink. To lift a head was death. Night came at last and they were withdrawn, One vivid picture of Fredericksburg the night after the asmault, and I have done. “We ma past the court house, past churches, schools, bank buildings, private houses—all lighted for hoe pital purpose, and all in use, thongh « part of the wounded had been transferred across the river. Even the door yards hed their litter beds, and were well filled with wounded nen, and the dead were laid in rows for burial. The hospital lighte and camp fires in the streets, and the smoldering ruins of burning buildings, with the mixtare of lawless tioting of demoral- ined 5 5 a sufferis teyriercs in the hospitals, gave the sacked town the look of paademoniam.” And this is war. FEATS OF PEDESTRIANISM. Records of Some of the Best Walkers of the United Kingdom. From Bpare Moments. Probably the greatest pedestrian feat of the century performed in the united kingdom was that of Bob Carlisle, who completed in 1888 the unprecedented feat of walking 5,100 miles in Oldham, Rochdale, Bury and Broughton, Weston, the abstainer, only completed salles i the tame periods Yn “Janos jeston walked Life-like Reproductions in Beautiful Cold Marble. HOW A STATUE IS MADE. ‘With Clumsy flammer and Cold Chisel— Mow (ne Clay Medel and the Ptacter Cnet Ave Made — The Instruments for Repro- Quoting ta Stowe—Poiater sud Drill_The Artist. ‘Written fot The Evening Stur. hamméts brass; tent, and that is the field of schiptate, It is work requiring varied me- chanical aptitude and an artistic eye that can eteate Beauty in form alone without the en- haneement of color. And as the work of the sculptor Kas been left to the professional, who does not like to turn his workshop wrong side out for the benefit of the public, the Modus of the trade, to tice a Bering sea ex- ft, been veiled in comparative obscurity. The statuary's work is conjarot’ see | it; trick reversed, fow yon do. on the day of dedication and there stands the finished marble, looking so serenely quiet, as thorigh it had always been there, that it never occurs to the average spectator to ask how it tran done, But the sight of delicately moulded figure with outstretched tapering fingers, that fook as thotigh they could never have been the work of & clumsy hammer and cold chisel finaDy stirted the roul of a Stan reporter with wartosity, and sallying forth he fotind at artist's den and gleaned the following facts as to the making of a statue: FIRST IX CLAY. Carving a statue is like cooking a rabbitt— the first thing is toget the subject—for a statue is nearly always the copy of an idea first worked out in clay, except ina few remarkable cases, ae where Michnel Angelo and other taster: hands have ent a finished statue direct from the marble block withont the atd of a copy of any soft, though this wasa remarkable feat even for them. Py POINTER AND BOW DRILL. Herote senlture and the depicting of ideals is fot’ a common practice in these days. Indeed, Hawthorne says that the = ‘ies of sculture have been ethausted, and “except for the exe- cution of portrait busts sculpture has no longer any right to claim place among the living arta There fa no new group nowadays nor new atti- tude, nor gnything line and the det and shoes ties.”” ‘THE WORK OF PORTRAITURE. But in the work of portraiture the artist still finds enough to do, for there are always philan- thropists, statesmen and railroad magnates who themselves or their friends think aré deserving of preservation in some form more endu:ing than mere paint and canvas, though, ae the author above quoted further declares, the ma- terial will in many eases prove more lasting than the reputation it was intended to com- memorate, and in a few generations with many of the likenesses posterity will not know what todo, though ft will doubtless find that they will build into walls and burn into quicklime just as well as though they had never been locked into the guise of human heads. ROW THE CLAY MODEL 18 MADE. But to return to the clay model, which may be considered the basis of all the artist's work. It is made, whenever posible, from the living motel in plastic clay, with the aid of the fingers and a few simple wooden or horn kpives. When the subject is dend or absent death masks and photographs are the artist's guides. While this work is perhaps not the highest order of art, it requites more than a mere imitative faculty of eyeand hand. The moods and temperament of subject have to be studied and emphasized to save the work from degenerating from a liv- ing likeness into a mere dead model. ‘The final marble is not copied from the clay, however, as that is an unsatisfactory substante from which to work, and between the two stages of the work a plaster cast has to intervene. But from an artistic point of view there isa liveliness and expression about the first clay model that the cast never shows, which has piren rise to the artist's eying that the “clay the life, plaster the death and marble the resurtection.”” new except in the tailoring of coat seams, buttonholes ‘MAKING A PLASTER CAST, For taking the plaster cast what is known as a“‘pioce mold” is made. The cast is divided into sections, overeach of whicha plaster mold from two to four inches thick is made. over toa Pig a ° who chi 2. work down almost to size, what ne ts the skin finish to'be done by’ the artist Tre THE POINTER. But this copying of the cast in stone is by no ‘means a matter of the eye alone. It is measured with mathematical accuracy in every part by an device known as a “pointer.” This, as will be seen from the cut, is an upright rod [ HE AMATEUR Has | [1% invaded nearly all the | work. has them for his own. He draws and paints, he | seen in the antique head carves wood and he | known sculptor in the Corcoran Gallery. he sometimes etches and he ever, models a little in lay; but there is one | sitions noted with the bow drill region where his foot | block. Then the steel point and the hem has not trod to any ex- THE SCULPTOR'S WORK |e muasucs emvoaratss for the chanic to black veins in the block that will chow upon the surface of the diseovered the worked ita. earded There are insurance companies that make = Dusinese of guaranteeing the blocks of marble Coe steer ‘ike 638 A cuble foot It will be seen that the rick involved in baying « atatere fe the artist is glad heen Oa mium on a guarant stone. Sometimes ff will a dark vein in the very last “ ish” of the ; the whole fields by He young eiiin whe enh ah Ok % of a young attist who wen! cgay mee ouch a dieappotuiment in @ he wns creating. An illustration poten? oeeby an Ceres by an ui Pe WITH STEEL POINT AND BAMMER. After the roughing out of the statue by a few of the prgminent points, innumerable minor points are faken all over the cast and. their ‘on the marble mer are called into play and the superfluous ma- terial between the drill holes is cut away, As all the drili holes have been sunk a little short of their full depth there is left a thin orust of uniform thickness all over the work, which nete a# a protection against any chance blows of the hammer or slip of the steel points, for marble is « delicate mbstance to work with, and a vig- crous blow of the hammer would cause the stone to spawl and crumble to a depth of per- haps an eighth of an inch and finally to fall out, leaving « hole where there should be « smooth nish, THE WORK OF TRE ARTIST. This last surface work on the sculpture is tisually the work of the artist himself, but tt does not differ except in point of delfcacy from the work of the mechanic. The tools are slendet points and delicate chisels of different | shapes that vary according to the work and the taste of the senlptor. Some toothed toole are used for the working out of hair and cloth textures, and for the finish of smooth sprfaces marble ' files are often used. The artist is usually hia own tool dresser, having alittle charcoal furnace and anvil for heating the steel and beating it out into shape, He also does his own tempering, drawing the tool tothe proper color in the gas fame and cooling or “quenching” it in a Inmp of bees wax. ‘The ustial hardness for fine marble tools isa light straw color, or about the same tem- per as used in trorking iron. POLISHED AND UNPOLISHED FINISH. Modern artists, as a rule, give no higher fin- ish to their work than can be produced with the files and chisels, which isa cool and rather dead white. But it is certain that the ancients did not seruple to avail themselves of the polishéd finish, produced by powdered emery or harts- horn, as is shown by some of the more noted older marbles that have been wholly or in part protected from weathering and on which such « finish is still to be seen, An example of a slightly polished modern statue can be seen in the head of a Bacchante by Galt, in the Coreoran Gallery. ‘There is certainly a soft freshness in the flesh of this work that is wanting in the colder white of the marbles that surround it. There are certainly high ideals of form and fenture that have never yet been wroucht to shape beneath the chisel.” They ate still siewp- ing locked up within the vast whiteness of the old quarrigs of Carara, from whence so much of the beat in art ine already sprung, and they wait only for the eye of some true artist,who will finally see them and cut them free. ——ageennee Date of Opening the Fatr. ‘The world’s fair committee on ceremonies de- cided Thursday that it would not be advisable to ask Congress to change the date of the dedi- cation ceremonies of the Columbian exposition from October 12 to October 21, as it would cause too much confusion in the arrangements already perfected. 4, | the ‘Written for The Evening Star. SOME MAY MUSINGS. Fanetfal and Pleasant Thoughts About Wash- fugton and Its Beanttes. 4 FOREST OF 70,000 SHADE TREES—THE AVEXUR ‘ON A RASWY SUNDAY BVENTNG—THE skanch LGBT at THE CAPITOL—WHITE LoT AND mON- ‘Cuxnr. ‘ASHINGTONIANS JUST NOW, UNDER the brand new shadows of the 70.000 trees that adorn thetr city's strects, look as though they were on a perpetual picnic —just emerging from or entering the woods; for each street Perepective, which in most cities ends in a V of Gas jets, tn Washington melts into a mass of gteenery, giving one the idea that the deep ‘woods are bat just Beyond. ‘The arrival of the leaves tt really one of the events of the Washington spring season, for there fa as much difference fn the Washington of November and the Washington of May as in a denuded forest and one im full leaf, and they come so rapidly—the great mass of them all within « week—that for afew days thereafter ‘One goes about haunted by the vague impres- sion that something unumal has happened, until suddenly he recollects that ng ine deed bas happened. The armies of the leaves, their green banners floating from every tree- . have taken the city. ily, a¢ Thorean says, “There are more things a-doing than Congress wots of.” CONGRESSMEN IX 4 SEARCHING LienT. And speaking of Congress, what « pity it is that it is 90 trying to the personal appearance, and all the fault, too. of the Senate chamber ‘and the » Boute of re mo gy Mike ope: room of a photographer, are eky- lighted, coe, be the poor helpless stateemen be- neath look like the first untouched proofs of the photographs many of them aré so fond of having taken, all the defects in their com- lexiona and lines and shadows in their frocs ing brought into prominence, and as for bald heads, they gleam like #0 many gigantic pearls, Even that member whose thinning locks onl; barely suggested the awful possibility of bald- ness—a contingency not seriously regarded by the outer world, only fearfully believed im by the victim's loving helpmeet, ie under that searching ekylight metamorphosed into a hairless patriareh. Would a convocation of women sit for a series of years in # light that brought into relief every facial blemish and sallow shade? If women ever go to Congress they ‘Il try to abolish those skylights if they have to raze the dome and rebuild the walls of the Capitol to 0 it There is a strange, peaceful solemnity about Washington on a rainy Sunday evening. Let the reader pause at dusk on the corner of 6th street and Pennsylvania avenue at such a time and notice the effect. At the time when the chimes of the Metrepolitan M. E. Church are ringing the wide stretehes of ee oe as halt will reflect every scintillating electric ight and passing scarlet glow of street ear and herdic like a mirror, while the great bell voi ‘Beulah Land” or Mendelssohn's mn” are a veritable celestial chorus, In yal gn so of the chimes one will bear the tune played hummed by ing pedes- trians, which of course adds to the effect. For the brief period of their ringing all within their ge | perforce become church goers, since the bell tones are like holy voices wed the sacred lessons taught us in child- With another turn of the fancy, rainy noctur- nal Washington becomes an American Venice, its wet and shining streets giving back the image of every light—the canals, the converg- ing lights afar “down the avenue—the lamps of the gondolas, and we—well,we who are perform- ing the miracle of walking the waters, almost hesitate to step for fear of drowning. MUSIC AND COLORED DANCERS. Day and night, rhythm and rhyme, the street Ps poseeses in proportions more nicely as than any other city in the country. For every one of these demented peripatetic instruments, there isa full complement of adolescent Afri- cans, who, at the sound of ite voice, seem to issne from the very pavement and proceed to do the skirt dance—with only the mortal re- mains of askirt for the most part—or, as the time changes to that of some minor melody, unconsciously burlesqueing the grandees of the stage in a stately minuet. ‘They look like the insane visions of the duo of mad musicians that one feels is concealed somewhere within the body of the instrument. Although no one hus observed the lion and the lamb lying down together anywhere, Washing- ton ¢an almost as unique a spectacle in e sight of « railway depot and.a park making friend Pilgrims who have ocoasion to tarry in the Baltimore and Potomac depot by simply step- ping out of doors will find themselves ina park, > on one omen they can roam tl most approv of green fields ‘and pastures new wo the Capital, or, on the other hand. to the monument. is, of course, a very improper arrai ment, as the ground where the tlepot staude longs by rights to the park. But ieee it a curiosity. making the depot a perfect oasis desert of its kind. THE BOSTON GIRL IN THE Dow. “Dear me!” said a sweet young Bostonese, as she climbed the spjral stairway leading to the dome one day last week; “‘this ‘winding stair’ makes me feel for all the world like the fly in that old poem of “The Spider and the Fly." Is that pretty fatal parlot at the top? If itis Iam not going to be beguiled an inch further, “Indeed, I don't like there stains for reasons. I completely lose all my preconceived ideas of the points of the compass twisting and winding around in this fashion. There s the monument now,” said she, glancing out of a window, “off in the south, and on the landing just below when I looked out it was in the east, when I know very well it is really west. is most tnpleasant to have an emblem of stability and dignity like the Washi mon- uument dodging ldy style, looking as if it wi to get up a game of hide and seek with so ancient and respectable a thing as the Capitol, for it has gone completely around it since T left the ground. “After all, though,” continued she, loweri her tone to a reverent key as she recollec her transcendental training, “‘this illusion has ite uses,since it is another proof of the unreality of all outward nature, vivid though the seeming is, for the world of matter is indeed no more a fact than it is a fact that the monument is north of the Capitol. as it now surely seems, Ideas are the only reality,” she added, as, lenn- ing on the rade, she looked relectively off ont be Virginia hills, while the sounds of the hoof beats on the asphalt below rose to her ears like the distant muffled drums of some ghost army that never retreated and never edvanced. ‘THE WHITE LOT AND THE MONUMENT. “Out to the White Lot.” Doesn't that sound rural? SEDGES AND GRASSES, Carious Facts Atmut Two Numerous Orders of Plants. “After the grasses the most wisely distributed order of phunte in the world is that of the sedges,” ssid a botanist to a Sran writer, “Whereas the former are the most useful of all vegetable prodacts to mankind the latter are among the most useless. Whether found in marshes, ditches or by running streams. flour iching in meadows and forests or on naked rocks, growing on the loore sand of the seashore oF elsewhere, they are almost uniformly worth- less. Nevertheless, some few members of the family serve one purpose or another, as the Tnehes, which are emplored tn the mantfactare of candles, mate and chatrs, In ancien times the “papyrus,” likewise belonging to the « wasa very precious plant indeed, aff material for writing upon. Our word + te derived from Woke overs one knows mo ¢ Revption mage for papyrns w Hon, trom’ wheetr Par terme bitte Ordinarily the tows in # and lakes, bat it will, flourieh in ra, the angles of tte firée-cornered stem adapting themselves to Gréak the force of the current. Although the material used for writing on te nant id «treama, commonly supposed to have been obtained from the leaves, such was not the cnme. It was jot by separating the thin plates of Hasue which lie Just beneath the outer « stem. These were tri to meet equally and wore laid auc aflat table. Other ea, aimilariy cut laid across them at right angles. Th formed a sheet of many picces.which into one united substance and so t into a single sheet by simply «prinkling them with water,.the gummy matter in them disolving at the and canst to matanlly nebore. ‘The a produced in this manner p prodigious One obtained by the famous traveler Hel?. Was twenty-three feet long by eighteen i ie. From Kgypt this for centuries exported in pecially to Greece and Ror tion of parchment —about ployed exclusively tings which wore destined to be However, parch- ment did not for s long time «upersede papyrus, ihe demand for which at Kome continued for jerable period after the beginning of the Christian era, The supply was interrupted by the invasion of Egypt by the Saracens in the seventh century, and from that time on parch- ment was emploved almost exclucively asa snb- stitute. Nevertheless. its manufacture was con- tinued as Inte ax the eleventh century, The quantity made by the Egyptians of ol@ must have been enormous, judging by the mun- ber of rolis of it found in the tombs and im mummy cases. In the musetim of Naples there are nearly 1,800 manuscripts written on papyrus Shich were dug out of « amall part of the buried city of Herculaneum. From these the number that must have existed in the Roman empire at the time of the famons volcanic eruption can be fecbly guessed at, Papyrus, mauve in the Guality of durability, seems to ‘have been in- jerior to the paper now manufactured from eal hes it was em- rage of linen cotton, Judging from the specimens which have been preserved. The Plant had many other nses ancientiy. in Pevpt ple chewed the root Tor stalks wore ranted being afterward afforded materials for leaves were utilined. day, for making «1 tants of the banks of and Ethiopia. P thetr peanut Juic their soft, pulpy eaten. The stalls Topes and cables, and th as they nre at the presen boate, in which the inh the Nile ventare upc How It ts Gathered Periodically From the Bottom of Kock Creek. Two aged colored men wore floating4n a scow on the waters of Rock creek near the P street bridge bright and early yesterday morning. Their occupation, though not expecially at- tractive, was picturesque. Each of thera had &n enormous scoop, like an exaggerated iron dipper, onthe end of along pole. With these implements ther were engaged in fetching ap portions of the bottom of the stream, deposit ing the results of their toil inside of their curi- ons flat-bottomed craft, which was moored to the bank by # ro “Business am very poor Just now,” said one of them, pausing in his work to reply to a query from a STAR writer. “Dis creek lns been pooty fished ont ob late. It's mox'ly mud an’ mighty little sand. Yes, ech, «and am what we ie fishin’ fer. After a treshet ix the time to «it it, when the water has riz an’ brought it from ebery stnall stream dat fo coverin’ the bottom with that am wufl seoopin’ after “Ro the harvest is poor just now?” “Yes, sah. It's been some time since the Inst freshet; the sand has becn mos'ly done tuk away. ‘There are about « dozen scows in the business, #0 that one crop don’t go to last very long. We's hopin’ fer anudder big rain, wot'll make the ‘creek swell till it's like to bust,” Then ® good payin’ time. You see, aah, it all depends on the freshets how much we earn. If «and am lentiful we can make $10.0 week, that’s ter wages than a pusson can git workin® the street. Sand am waft 30 cents « an’ a cart holds about fifteen bushels. I labor, sah, but The poor m: * into Rook creek, ep layer ob stuff Ubave an’ they have to git it from ‘way the Po- tomac Unies they git it from colored gen 'I'men in our line of buxiness, They can buy it cheaper from us because there ain't no freight to pay. Down the ribber, about thirty or forty miles, ing xcows fetch up sand from the bot. tom, and when they are londed they are @wed up to the city. But dat am pooty expensive, of course. So whenover sand can be scooped here in the creek you will see the ncows out fishin’ fer it. When the sund has all been tuk away an’ there ain't nothin’ left but mud we uns is down on onr luck. “That isn't very pretty looking sand you are digging out just at present.” “No, eah; that's a fact, itain't. But it's good enough fer makin’ mortar. If vou want fancy sand you must hire a canal bont an’ fill it by spadin’ 38 out from the beaches far down the ‘otomac, where the water am salt, But it'll cost you a big price. Mock creek sand ix used for makin’ concrete also, and for that purpose we dig it off'n the bars in the stream. Such sand wouldn't do for mortar, because it's full of mega but they only make the concrete better, is am a hard business, an’ no mixtake, bat the hard to make any jus’ says ‘charge it,’ or writes hix name one check, ‘on’ that settics the bill. I had an ele- gant scow of my own once that cost 30, but it was smashed np in run dis boat f my load now, an’ I'm goin. ith which final remark the old man cast off his mooring rope and floated away with his companion in the scow, both of them using @ cccanionally to keep the q craft straight with the current, Written for The Evening Star. A Love Song. saw two silv'Ty clouds, love, ‘Come sailing one by one, AS spirits soft that moved aloft On Oward the setting sun. Methought in fancy's dream, love, ‘That they Were you and I ‘Thus gliding on to love-tand ‘Beyond the biushing sky. ‘Then floating side by side, love,