Evening Star Newspaper, August 20, 1892, Page 12

12 WANE OF THE SEASON The Summer Girl Will End Her Triumphs in a Blaze of Glory. DELIGHTFUL GA UZY EFFECTS. ‘The Stylish Gowns Displayed by the Devotees of Fashion at Stylish Resortse—Some Be- coming Outdoor Costames—Suitable Trav- eling Dresses. ‘Brom The Star's Traveling Commissioner. New York, August 19, 1892. NG, GOING, ALL but gone! Such is the ery of fashion’s auc- tionrer now engaged in selling off the few rem- nants of time in which | the devotee of modes | may display any gowns of her summer ot yet remaining unsee With the end of August will come thoughts of autumn styles and vis- | ions of theater and opera costumes. Mean- while the fashionable woman ix spending “remnants of to the very best =e and, if the weather only continues propitious, she will suc- ceed in of her gay plumage before the season closes, and will re- own like a female Alexander, longing worlds to conquer, and, of couree, for ssex to Wear, summer gitl to me the other day: call me pretty. Bah! it’ ply know how to dress, tha ners make the man, bat style makes the woman. Give me gowns enough and I'll turn the beads of a whole nation. What woald Harry Navarre have been without his white plumes? TRE LAST OF THE SEASON. ‘The season will undoubtedly go out inablaze of glory. Up to the Inst moment costumes will preserve their delightful ganzy effects. Sleeves will continue to swe! raped pen- dant, festooned and cascaded, will cover the Dodices, and ribbons wound around and around the figure will give the fair la: look of latter-day mummies, swathed up in gu In the initial cut ¥« latest styles of scalloped. lac mounted by a chiffon colt: Pink mauve crepe de chine. The sleeven are of ‘mauve silk muslin, accordion pleated, ending at the elbow with a ribbon band. Lace’ figaros in | old Inab guipure are very modich. They mast | fit the figure, and there should be a broad rib- bon belt in Scote cream, pink and green. In many ca: ‘sare mere epan- lets, below which the Jeeve ran with a ribbon at the elbow. - Die, the first reaching to second almost to the belt ot | material and the entire top of a pls © closely covered With lace or guipure, with a deep frill of lace over the sleeve. The newest tailor-mades_have cnta’ curving gracefully at the and falling to a | moderate length in square tails. The swullow tails reaching almost to the ground are merely ® pasting agony and will not be seen this fall in town. coats, GARDEN HATS. In the matter of headgear there is apparent | at times an inclination to run to the highly turesque, bat the persistence with whic! the held its piace baa summer girl. not again mething p hat, trimmed bas come in vers opportunely. huts in’ the same line are likewise very ming. there being two Jong gray feathers fastened in * with a small white wing and a crystal buckle. Instead of the wing vou may snbstitnte a pointed bow eof gray velvet ribbon. The second picture resents a very pretty garden hat. The trimming is of pleated crepe. set off with lace and surmounted by a twisted roll of the crepe, with a crest of the «ame material ornamented with o sprig of roses. She Mbit TRAVELING DRESS. A stylish traveling dress, something that should be in the summer outfit of every fasb- shown in the third illustra- ina striped woolen mate- , the skirt on the inside finished with e flounce of the sume «uff dress. pointed corsage has coat | tails, » velvet collar and revers of the woolen | ‘The vest may be buttoned to the | corsage. The sleeves bave flaring velvet cuffs. Buch s costume as this comes in very well for it service during the summer, and its | ‘Masculine characteristics give it a look of neat- mess and trimness very becoming toa good With it may be worn a tourist's hat in| straw, as nearly as possible of the same | asthe dress. ‘In no one particular does | woman show her good taste in| always wearing the right sort of a gown on the Fight occasion than when traveling or movi about in public places. There is a great deal in a gnablee her. to preserve her nervous trying circumstances. I: is | astonishing i F to that | are not properly dressed; they are | too warmly ci or they wear «| dress that wrinkles or ota easily, miles they pre f largely and before they have gone fifty an untidy and mussed-up apy } so the woman who is attired in a neat and | traveling drew. Nothing disturbs her | . The very dust refuses to atick to her, | end of her journey she ts from ith a smile that is forting to Her friends welcome her with cordiality, for they feel instinctively she will fit into the household and add to geveral comfort of all. UNSUITABLY DRESSED. On fl i i FNatyE Ht i i © F F ‘the other hand the woman who is swelter- | i] of the evening sky. I present such a character im the fourth picture. She is as you see her in the hotel parlor, which appears to be a room in her own home. She is one of those few people ee ee eee tion what is appropriate to wear—that is, abe is | never under or Pacropense vad Pan is = known to mar a fete by too somber a gown or to disturb a solemn occasion yy mak- | ing ber appearance in yellow or pink. Here she wears a natty figaro corsage over a silk biouse belted in with a broad corselet, which, like the If it AFTERNOON TOILET. collar, is either embroidered or covered with pastementerie. Her footwear is always of ex- quisite fit and in perfect taste. You don't meet her wearing white kid shoes with a black silk gown, or russets with an elegant calling cos- tume, or buttoned boots with a waite flannel suit. ‘There will be no end of lawn parties as the season draws to a close, As two and three often take place on the same afternoon, the hostess can only put “from 3 to 5" on her cards and trast to the strong desire of the summer girl to display her gowns toas many people as possi- ble. Batiste ix largely used for lawn party dresses, either stamped or embroidered. Mauve and white are favorite colora, and Irish guipure the lace most used. ‘The dress is usually cut in ne piece, the folds being held at the waist by a ribbon belt tied in front. At the top the cos sage it composed of a crossed fichu in plain batiste, and the front of the dress isso trimmed COSTUME FOR LAWN PARTY. with lace as to make the fichu look like a yoke. The epaulets are of the embroidered batiste. and the lower sleeves of the plain, The cuffs ere of the guipure. ver | Information of Interest to House- ” Soe eer 4 ha ; ‘THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, ‘D. C, SATURDAY, AUGUST 20, 1892-SIXTEEN SOUPS IN CANS. wives as Well as to Soldiers, WAR FOODS OF THE FUTURE. How Compressed Soups Are Made—Clam Chowder as a Solid—Concentrated Broths for Invalids—Canned and Bottled Soups— Processes of Putting Them Up—Rendy- Cooked Foods. HEN UNCLE 8AM IS to go to war ‘again compressed soups will compose an im- portant part of the rations he distributes to the soldiers. In military operations the problem of transport- ing food is always of =~ most vital consequence, the best army being of little use without a Proper commissariat. Accordingly there is urgent demand for some tort of provender that is at once highly con- | centrated and very nutritious. This want bas so far been met that in future provisions for 10,000 men for ten days can be carried in five bullock wagons. Or each soldier may put into hi haversack sustenance for six days, the weight of which would only be one pound and a half. PEA SOUP IN THE AFOHAN WAR. At the opening of the Afghan war, fourteen years ago, an enterprising Englishman sup- | plied the British army with a product of hi | own invention in the shape of compressed pea ut _up in fou sufficient day's | ration for a man. On the outside of the recep- | tacle were pasted printed directions saying: | “Mix the contents toa thick paste with cold or warm water; then add sufficient water to mako one quart of soup; boil until it is of the proper thickness, when it is ready for use.” ‘The Brit- ish generals were so impressed with the merits of the preparation that great quantities of it were ordered for the army, and the inventor in England went into the business of producing it ona large scale, forwarding thousands upon thousands of the four-ounce cans to India in pasteboard mailing tubes and otherwiso, A MULE LOAD FOR A BATTALION. When Gen. Roberts made his famous march to the relief of Kandahar his troops wore fed almost wholly on compressed pea soup. The rapidity of his progresa was much facilitated by the small bulk of rations required to be taken along in this shape, a single mule being | ble to convey a day's provisions for a whole battalion. Subsequently, in the Zulu in the Egyptian confict and in the futile Nile campaign, which had for ita object the relief of Gordon at Khartoum, these canned rations were largely utilized, the profits on contracts | for supplying them’ enriching the inventor. ‘This and similar preparations will undoubtedly be the war foods of the future. A SAMPLE PROCES®. harming outdoor costume is shown in the It isn very picturesque gown | or for any outdoor fete. It is in pink crepon. The skirt is finished with two rows of broad gallon, through which you pass | moss-green ribbon as indicated. Between the | rows of galloon is placed vertical fancy stiteh- ing. The cor~.ge has the same scheme of orna- | tation. The broad ribbon belt has a band of the galloon at the top. The puffed sleeves | are also encircled by a band of the galloon; below they are tight fitting. —+e- GIRLS IN Children Are Killed Of in Vast Numbers. From the Yankee Bl:de. . In China tens of thousands of recently born girls among the poorer classes are thrown out to perivh, and at Shanghai I saw a tower for- merly ured to facilitate this infanticide. It is Practiced in every part of China, but espe- cially in the interior and in the Loess district. As soon as we get many miles from the coast | it is quite usual to see near a joss house, or | place of worship, a small stone tower from ten to thirty feet high, with no door, but a hole in one side reaching into a pit in the center. The children that parents wish to be-rid of are thrown into this hole and quicklime soon con- sumes the lifeless little forms. It is suid that the priests take charge of this ruel work. It has been estimated that every | car 200,000 female babies are brutally slaugh- | » empire, One Chinaman, being | interrogated about the destruction of his re- | cently born girl, said: “The wife ery and ery, but kill allee same.” In every large city in China there are asylums for the care of orphans, supported | and conducted by foreigners, who save yearly | from slaughter tens of thousands of female infants, At Hankow, which is 600 miles in- land, T visited a Roman Catholic orphanage for children that have thus been cast out to| perish. Mother Paula Vismara, the lady superior of this institution, informed me | that rhe had received seven that day, and on one day thirty were brought in. course these bad r been consigned to a baby tower. Sometimes they are found wrapped in paper | and left at the edge of the river; sometimes they | are buried alive by the father, but while vet | living are dug up by some one else and brought | to this institution. Several women are em-| ployed by the mother superior in looking about for the little victims. i Upward of a thousand are received every | 3 Many of the: course, die after the | exposure and neglect they ha ya Jinn charity and one of the most . During the twenty-three its existence it has saved the lives of .000 to 40.000 children. of whom a fair proportion have grown to womanhood. It re- ceives considerable support from the European residents at Hankow. ‘Those children who remain within the prem- ises of the institution are fed and clothed, and, when old enough, taught to sew, make knit stockings and do other useful work. PROVING AN ALI Prosecution Had only = Crippled Case. From the Yankee Blade. It was a case of chicken stealing and the prints of bare feet were found in the sang ronnd the hen house. The lawyer for the prosecution was one who, if he had been Napoleon Bonaparte, never would have crossed tne Alps; he would simply have pulled them up by the roots and thrown them over the paling. ‘The prisoner was an unknown tramp. “You say you don’t know anything about this theft?” queried the lawyer, fiercely. “That's what I swore to, sir,” said the tramp, meekly. “You were in the back yard of Mrs. Slamtipp’s honse about supper time?” “You were seen on the road in front of the house some time after dark?” Fp or tpl rag replied “Yes, sir, r su fy the prisoner, with a ‘oan oniie at his innocent | little joke in’ sach a place. “And you were seen by the cook sitting on the door step with your shoe off?” “Yes, sir, there was a pebble in it that too big to get out of the hole it got in at.” wie tach casks Ste you were the chickens “You ean't do it, mildly bat firmly. jn oy “And why not, pray?” asked the prosecutor’ ith rus clocama! “Because, «ir, I've got one wooden leg, sir,” and be gave it's hick’ that sent ie cleat oetven the court room and almost knocked « constable Musical Item. From Texas Riftings. Mrs. A.—“I saw your husband on the street yesterday. Mrs. B.—“Did he seem to be in a good hu- mor?” “‘L never saw him in such high spirits.” stele ine ome keen aie piano is so out of tnne that I can't play ou 1” | facture of compressed pea soup which should | + | favor in America. There is no proprietary secret in the manu- deter governments from producing it on a large scale, the process being very simple. ‘The peas are, steam roasted and ground very fine, see soning being added, together with a small quan. tity of beef extract to serve the pur) tock. Finally the mixtare iv reduce smallest heat and of ly to the ible bulk by desiccation with dry yy pressure. MORE NUTRITIOUS THAN BEEF. It is commonly imagined that beef and other mente contain more protein, which is the flesh- | forming element of foods, than any other edibi substances. But the fact is that peas are con- | siderably more rich in protein than even the | best beefsteak, and sccordingly they are more nutritious. in truth, peas are the most nutritious of all known foods, and a quart of | four | ently the business of preparing it | for ordinary commercial purposes has been | w en, and the compressed article can be | bought by the 100 pounds ut the rate of 15 | centsa pound. That quantity will make 400 quarts of soup, the cost of which ix 315. It is mut up for sale at retail in pasteboard boxes Folding four ounces each, Instead of cans Tastes differ in various countries, and in Eng- land the formula for making it includes mint. a Vanierr. | The manufacture of compressed soups of other kinds is about to be begun in this coun- try on a large scale. Processes for preparing them will be similar to those above described and they will be sold in solid form. Successful preliminary experiments have already been made with tomato soup, bean soup, mulligatawney. oxtail and beef soup. For ali of these it will be necessary to use regular stock, which the various incidental ill be boiled down to the lowest | point of concentration, suitable seasoning being added. Finally, the concentrated mixtures will be dried and packed in pasteboard boxes, Trial is tobe made with the possibilities of com- pressed clam chowder, which should be a wel- come novelty to the palates of shellfish-starved people who reside far from the sea. WILL KEEP WELL. One advantage of these compressed soups is that they will keep for an indefinite period without getting stale or moldy, preserving all their qualities. Tux Stan writer was shown yesterday several cans of the pea mixture which were put up during the Afghan war, fourteen years ago. Their contents looked and melled as good as ever. With food sapplies of this kind campaigns of the future can be con- ducted with vastly less expense. Incidentally reduced transport traina signify a reduced num. ber of guards required for their protection. Compressed soups will admirably supplement the horse bisevite which European armies have already used with success, this Intter invention enabling the trooper to carry in his haversack a week's rations for hiv charger, thus rendering him independent of forage. ‘The value of peas | as provender for soldiers has been recognized | in ‘the German army by the adoption of the | “erbswurst,” or pew sausage. But this par- ticular comestibie does not suit the stomachs of | Britieh troops, and would probably not find | THE BUSINESS OF MAKING AND PUTTING UP sours in cans and bottles ready for immediate con- sumption and only requiring to be beated be- fore serving has recently attaiued large im- portance in the United States. Many of them are sold in highly concentrated form, such ns beef tea and broths for invalids, requiring to be | diluted with seven times their own quantity of water. Thus « five-ounce bottle of chicken broth or consomme affords a fall quart of soup. Ordinarily, however, these preparations arc marketed ‘in bottler or cans holding quarts, pints and half pints, not concentrated. They are as excellent in quality as French cooks can make them, and at three quarts for a dollar they rare by dear. particularly from the spectacle. Everything is as clean as a now pin, On the top floor all the raw material is deliv- shape of shins id other parts of fo ie rare only, vega eat, inc} * t rin et are ever so many other forms which they, as well as turnips, onions, &c.,are made to as- sume. ADDING THE VEGETABLES. Now, if the vegetables prepared in this appe- tizing fashion were cooked with the soups it goes without saying that they would be reduced to shay and ‘Therefore Cpt merits nana aptes aa moment. For instance, the operator is engaged in filling cans with printaniere, which, a8 every- body knows, is one of the most delicious of liquid dishes. She takes each can and puts into it a certain quantity of carrots, peas, lettuce and ted that che weights exch ante of vege- each contribut tables on a pair of scales before turning it into the can, Being extremely skilled through prac- tice, she is able to do this with surprising rapidity. Next she holds the can bencath one of the pipes that descond from the flor above And turne a stop cock, permitting pure bouillon to flow until the can is filled. A little bag of muslin fastened over the end of the pipe strains the ouillon to perfect clearness. If he was putting up ¢l gumbo or mt tawney the would’ draw pure’ chicken stock an- other pipe, and similarly with other soups. WHEN IN THE CANS. * Foreach kind of soup different vegetables, always in measured quantities, are put into the cans. Chicken and chicken gumbo must have a certain proportion of chicken meat in them in the shape of little cubes, which are weighed out and added in the same fashion. After the fowls have been boiled in the copper pote to make stock the meat is cut frye m and chopped up by machine for this final pur- pose. For pea soup the peas are merely forced through a sieve and cooked with the stock t the beginning. But, as was about to be remarked, the cans, as fast as they aro filled, are removed to along table, where their tops are soldered on by an expert young woman who joes from one to another with a stick of solder in one hand and an iron instrument carrying @ flame jet in the other. Not more than | three seconds are required for topping each tin re- ceptacle. Finally the closed cans are set in wire baskets, which are put for thirty minutes inside of queer-looking cylindrical ovens filled with steam. The steam kills all bagteria and spores of fungi that may happen to be inclosed in the cans, which might otherwise give rise to fermentation and putrefaction. Thus the soup should keep almost indefinitely, though now and then can will swell at the top, showing that it has gone wrong. SOME IN BOTTLES. All cans are manufactured on the premises, great care being taken to solder them only ou the outside, because the muriatic acid used to make a flux is dangerous to health. For the same reason resin is emploved instead of mu- riatic acid in soldering on the tops of the cans after they are filled. Such pains are taken in this matter that there can beno possible danger from the cause suggested, but many people are xo fearful on the subject that they will only buy | the soups in bottles. Accordingly the same soups are put up in bottles holding exactly as much as the cans, but just double the price ix charged for them when ‘sold in glass, which if it pleases tho consumers entirely satisfies the manufacturer. At one factory twenty different kinds of soup are put up in this way, varying in price at retail from @4 a dozen quarts to 28.500 dozen quarts for green turtle and ter- rapin. The terrapin ismadefrom real dinmond- backs, and not from “sliders” or mud turtles, with pure beef stock. sherry and spices. After the usual style, the little black paws are left in to show the epicure that the article is real. IN LARGE CITIES, There isa large class of people in every large city to whom ready-made and ready-cooked foods are well nigh indispensable, In New York particularly—and like conditions prevail more or less in other great towns—thousands of families practice a kind of housekeeping #0 light that their cookery is practically limited to warming things up. Usually they follow this method of living because it is the cheapest rible, while in the frequent cases where both husband and wife work away from home it is hardly practicable to keep house on the conven: tional plan, and restaurants are expensive. As a rule they dwell in apartments of some sort, urchasing whatever provisions are most read- Dy pre For them the delicatessen sho around the corner is a most benefi- cent institution. There they can buy delicacies at from sa a roasted turkey to a decorated boar's head. The available bill of fare includes all sorts of canned and preserved fishes, from sardines in vil to smoked sturgeon: likewise sugar-cured hams, meat jellies, chicken and lobster salad, edible snails from France, cheeses of every va- riety, imported vegetables in bottles and can: mushrooms, dried vegetables, Saratoga chips, Pigs’ feet and tripe. These are only afew of delicious things available for.a little ready money, and the list, supplemented with fro eggs and bread and butter, will afford a varied and luxurious diet for any modest little family, ticularly if the chief meal of the day be un with a dish of ready-prepared soup. >—— Written for the Evening Star. The Saraband. In Spain, among the Moors of eld, Ere Boabai! Granada held Or Castile's conquering Cid was born To dazzle as the sun at morn, Eratwhile the luxury of the land Lay im the Paynim Saraband. ‘Within Alhambra’s tinted walls And tesseluted courts and halls, To music of the mandolin Gay gallams lovely ladies win ‘With graceful steps, seductive, grand, Of Saracenic Saraband. When mosque and ininaret are dim With shadows on the oriel's rim, And silence reigns in strect and square As alguazils the darkness ‘Then masy a flaming, f Flares on the social Saraband. Alike {n citadel and cot, ‘The dangers of te day forgot, ‘The cineter upon tre thigh, For booted knights are tented nigh And bristling batile near at wand, ‘Whey tread the staiely Suravand. A light, lascivious, supple slide; ‘The chaste caress of blushing bride; ‘The burning beam of fers orbs ‘That every glance of love absorbs; An air voluptuous, blissful, bland; ‘Make up the eensuous Saravand. ‘The prince "mid stalactiti: In Zaratanda oft d ‘The peasant in his hut of cla, Dreams of the dauce at dusk of day; While maidens by their lovers fauned ‘Long fur tae passionate Sarabaud. Pastime of lady, lord and spr! Of monareh and of yokel wight; Delirious dance of gods and men And elves in many an eldrich glen, Or wantoning sylpas on slivery strand, Thine be tue bays, O Saraband. —Davip Grattan Apes. Yarrow Farm, Laurel, Md., August 15, 1692. courts ‘Was Taken With the Family. From the New York Herald. An excellent story of one man who did not be- lieve that marriage was a failaro is told in Mis- souri at the expense of the once famous gov- ernor of that state, Claiborne F. Jackson, who, so the story runs, married five sisters, After one wife had died and been mourned be mar- ried the second of the sisters, who also died. He then courted and won the third sister and to his many time, or, to be exact. the fifth and i de. te bil if i 3 E & H i f I : s i fi i i i i fi HI if $ i! if A Lf E 3 ee i i ! I r i : Eb?” “T want to let me have Eliz-a-beth. “Ob. you want Lizzie, do you; what for?” AUGUST METEORS. The Brilliant Display Seen in the Heavens Last Week. MONEY, MONEY, MONEY. ‘That's What Superstitions People Say as ‘They See the Flying Trails of Light Dash Across the Sky—Something About These ‘Wandering Inhabitants of the Heavens. ‘Written for The Evening Star. H! OH! OH! MONEY! Money! Money!” ex- claimed she. ‘Where? I didn't see it. Ob, there's another, Money! Money!” ejacu- Inted the other of this feminine duo, who was taking an evening stroll through Lafayette Park. } And, oddly enough, instead of casting their eyes on the ground, where unowned money to lie, they were looking is naturally supposed straight up to the ek: But it was not money that they saw, nothing Dut the fleeting gold of ameteor, at the sight of which, and before it vanishes,so runs popular su- Porstition, ifone will only utter the word money, that desideratum will shortly be forthcoming, « conceit which, like the one regarding the moon over one’s right or left shoulder, will give the most sensible and practical—loth though he is to admit it—a thrill of joy if it augure well for him ands pang of disappointment if it tells a contrary tale, But if that were the only condition of riches, we might each and every one of us be a Crasus were we diligent in our exclamation of the word money these nights, as the earth, since Tues- day, the 9th, has been passing through the August meteoric belt, and the sight of a meteor has been consoquently, by no means, a rarity. THE LAURENTIAN SHOWER. This particular body of meteors, greater or Jess numbers of which are seen from the 9th to | the 14th of August, is known as the Laurentian | shower, they being considered the fiery tears of that half-mythologic. half-authentic individual, St. Lawrence, who because, in the face of perse- cution, he would not renounce his faith, was, ac- cording to legendary report, scourged and lacer- atedand finally roasted to denth ona gridiron the 10th day of August, 253 A. D.—woe enough to ce any one, at the memory of it, ‘tears of fire six days in succession annually through- out the ages. This fiery appearance of a meteor, unlike that of a star, which shines by inherent or reflected light, is due to the heat generated the moment the 'satmosphere touches it, for haphazard a8.a meteor looks skimming across the evening sky, it is after all at that very instant pursuing as definite a path of its own asis the earth it- self, and it is only when these two paths con- verge, uo that the earth'satmosphere touches it, that it becomes visible. The heat produced upon the meteor by trio tion with our atmosphere is so great that the outer portions of meteoric body is con- stantly melting as it proceeds on its way, thus producing the ‘appearance of a train of light called the “tail.” Sometimes the entire meteor | becomes dissipated into tail, which then falls to tho earth as meteoric dust. Again after be- | ing divested by the melting process of a por- tion of its bulk it readily falls into the earth's attraction and descends to the ground, while if of considerable size anda long distance re- | moved, it may escape the clutches of the | earth-monster with only the loss of its glowing outer garments, THE EARTH CROSSES TH“IR PATHS. The earth on its journeys ound the sun is vasages | continually crossing the paths of these smaller | sky travelers, as is evinced by the fact that on | almost any night during the year meteors are | occasionally seen. It is said, indeed, that on a | moonless night a single observer may count an | average of eight an hour, and as one person can see but about one-fourth of the sky it would | follow that about thirty would be visible in an jour or more than 700 in a day if none were | obscured by sunlight, and as the same observa- | tions may be made from more than 10.000 ste- tions the facts in the case would be that | 7,000,000 a day pass near enough to the earth to | be seen. Fifty times as many may be seen with | the telescope as without. and this number in- creases with the power of the instrument. But these are the isolited specimens, the bachelors of meteordom, whose paths are observed to be sometimes in one direction and again in- another, quite after the erratic fashion of their human prototypes. The harmonious families which are travelipg unanimoyely in one direction are to be seen only at stated intervals, notably in August and November. Observers doubiless noticed that the meteors seen last week shot without exception from north to south, and the November display, which is usually still larger, is similarly constant in ite direction. A BELT AROUND THE SUN. ‘Theso August meteors forma gigantic belt around the sun, since every part of the path which they traverse in circling that luminary is more or less thickly strewn with them, and as it takes this belt 105 years tp finish a revolution while our earth completes ohe in twelve months, it would follow that except once in 105 years we would vee yearly a different portion of the belt a fact, which, since the belt is of unequal thickness, accounts for the variability of the meteoric display at this season. ‘The late Prof. Richard A. Proctor, the au- thority for the facts herein stated, says that there is no evidence that the earth ever pene- trates to the midcurrent of any meteoricatream, after which he sententiously adds: “If she did, the result might not be satisfactory to ber in- habitants.” The meteoric stream which the earth's path touches in November is even larger, it being computed as 100,000 miles in depth and ten times that in breadth, and some of the great- est “showers of meteors” have consequently been seen at this time. In November, 1833, within nine hours, which ineluded the night of the 12th and morning of the 13th, 240,000 meteors darted into visibility. many wind-blown flakes of snow, and vavied in size from a mere point of light toa very largo star. THEIR MISSION NOT KNOWN. Science, to her own dissatisfaction, can only partially answer the question of their mission. ‘That thoy exist in uncounted millions other- where than at the points where the earth meets them is evident from tho fact that many of them are traveling with a greater swiftness than the mere attraction of the sun upon them would produce, and are therefore suy have beén violently ejected from suns. But what is their use? Are they the fuel which feeds the sun's fires, or are they. as Prot. Proctor picturesquely interrogates, “the cl in the great pre ae. of nature, the which bave fown from the mighty grindstone, the shreds of clay which the giant ‘potters, At- traction and Repulsion, have cast aside as use- less?” THE VISIT FROM MARS. This old earth which we call “ours,” with about as much reason as a band of tiniest, feeble microscopic insects dwelling in a giant oak would call the tree “ours.” has ite affair: ‘They shot across the sky from the north like ao | boring | 7 PAGES. Written for The Evening Star. THE STORY OF A RING. He Uaght to Have Known Girls Better, bat He Didn't. DID NOT INTEND TO GET IN LOVE | with Clarabel Woodson, but I did, never- DOTS AND DASRES FROM A SPOOK. ‘The Message Over an Instrument Without ‘Wires or Battery. From the Cincinnati Enquirer. One of the wildest, weirdest stories of the | that has ever come under the ex- theless. I did not fall in love with her. The | Pefience of mortal man is told by R. H. Field, | ably all others produce their immediate and movement was eo gentle and imperceptible, in | ite earlier stages at least, that it might be said | love stole in upon me and gradually took posee- the Big Four telegraph operator at Southside station. | makes one believe it in probability. “I have been a telegraph operator for twenty-two years. Ihave told my story least yee was more delightful to me than to gaze T was, perbape, » year ands half getting sat- trated with this fecting, but I was now full Nota negative spot was left, Tt was caso of | lest a undred. people, and I ba gritiondiy vo-| eve that it was an actual ae ee TE tact. Thnow that it will bea severe test on | We were engaged and the time was set for our | Y°Ur credulity, but my experience is Gospel . T want ~ marriage. There was no opposition in either | Tover, and do'not tc, Cosrand that T have | uy family, and my prospects were such as to justify natural. I have never attended a ritualletic me in asking her band. But we didn't marry. |seance in my life, and am rather Inclined 10 | Many, many years ago she became the wife of See rad nanny of Bob Lngereell.” nee was quite reluctant about telling | another, perhaps worthier man, We are) ait'viory for publication hot Seale eet strangers now. | todo so, He is an entertaining talker. and re- How did it happen? Well, it was all abouts | lated the great eveut of his li ring. | We never ai T never knew what ‘offended her until a dozen years after- ward, and then learned it through others. I never could wear a finger ring, but being m love, I must do something to work off my cens ‘of feeling, #0 I purchased a ring for my: self. Ofcourse it was a peculiar ring, for lovers never do the ordinary. I tried hard to wear the ring, but could not. Tt was a pretty ring and. of course, it had to be shown to Clarabel. It was nowbought for her; it was not the kind of ring I intended for her: | hhow she got a fancy that the ring was to be hers, and yet she was so modest that she failed to express any admiration of it or make the least sign that she would like it. Oh! how cheer. ly would I have given it to her had I dreamed she would even receive it. But I had such little faith in my own taste that it never Secured to me that the ring was a lady's ring. Perhaps it was: I didn't know it. Well, I soon grew tired of trying to wear the ring and became careless about it. How it got out of my possession I do not know. But some- how it got away from me and it was 5 fore I heard of it again. That ring scaled my 1d finshod The gir! it her secret and i was too Betiieek av nthe a ol her heart. A dozen years afterward a friend who had ob- tained the facts related to me the story of my ring. Alas! it was too late! My castles were destroved, and the bird of my paradise had fone, to sing her life-song of lore in huppier Tam eternally down on rings. that showed that he had told it before. was several years ago,” he began, much younger than Tam now, I was assigned to night duty at a little station called Eva burg, in Pennsylvania, on the New York, Penn- sylvania and Ohio railroad. I hadn't been around the world very much, but flattered my. self that I had a good deal of mechanical genius Te ing about repairing it. Jones suggested that T take to and fix it up. Glad of the opportunity to show what I could do, I carried the box to my board- ing house one morning and put it on a shelf in an old cupboard and went to bed, intending to fix it after my sleep was over. I had been | | in bed but a few minutes, and had not got to sleep, when, to my surprise and astonixhment. thearmature,or what is otherwise known as the (Jever on the instrument. began ticking. 1 was | not been carried away by the ticking was faint and subdued, I got out | of bed, and, with fear and trembling, opened the cupboard door. I took the instrument in | my hand and it continued to work. I put it on | the table, but the sound ft made was unintel- ligible. I turned the spring *o that there | would be less resistance, and then, in as clear | and perfect Morse as I ever heard, the invisi- rson, spirit, or whatever it was, wrote: ~ “Do you get me?” “Twas so overcome that I involuntarily an. | swered ‘Yes,’ without putting it on the mst ment. The unknown heard me, for again, in the beantiful writing. it continued: “Thank God, at last! My name is Charles - I am an old-timer. My 0 reside in Mount Pleasant. Iowa, have lost me. They don't know what my fate hasbeen. I want you to write to my father, Homer Blake, at Mount Pleasant, Iowa, and inform him that I died at Shreveport, Tex., of yellow fever, on ——.’ [have forgotten the date, but it was | several years prior to the date of thie communi- cation. “J was frightened to death. My hair | stood on end. My boarding house was two | miles from the telegraph station and there was no battery nearer than the station, and there was no telegraph wire of any kind in that vi- cinity. I was. little dubious about the com- munication from the other world or from some- where, I will not undertake to say. turing to write to Homer Blake, as directed, I picked up a Western Union tariff’ book which Thad in my room to see if there was such a town as Mount Pleasant, Iowa, I found that there was such » place, afact that Idid not know before, and that it was located on the Chicago, mand Quincy railroad. To fatisty, myself and not be taken in, T wrote a letter to stmaster at Mount Pleasant and asked him if he knew of any one in the vicinity named Homer Blake. and to give me what in- formation he could, without telling him what I wanted it for. Afew days later I received a reply. and I have his letter somewhere my effects, in which he said that Homer had lived in Mount Pleasant some years before, but that he had moved away, to what he did not know. Blake, he informed me, had two sons, one of whom, Charles, was supposed to be dead, and the other was a grain merchant in ines far west.” a “Did you not pursue your investigations farther?” ——_—+e+____ THEY MADE NO FUSS. And the Man Was to Be Known by the ‘Warts on His Neck. From the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. The stars were imaged in ocean's dimpled bosom, but no moon sent its silvery beams athwart the rippling water to disclose the fea- tures of the thickset man who accosted the Clifton girl in the yachting cap in a secluded portion of the beach. “Beautifal evening,” observed the man, ina deep, well-modulated voice. ‘The girl gave no quick start of surprise. The conclusion was irrosistibie that she felt no irri- tation at being addressed by « thick-set man. ““Bee-yutiful.” she cordially rejoined. The ocean beat against the glistening shore with dull, monotonons sound. “Warm, these days,” murmured the thick- oy ee dug, the toe of on het ruseet shos into the yielding mand. “Awfal warm,” she answered. A oes ll ,awept the surface of the water splashed high the white foam and was gone in darkness, e “Are you afraid?” The thick-set man was close to her side. “Don't be—" In the dim light it was obvious that he was ‘arm around her. rer Confusedly she scrutinized the pattern of ber “I have never seen thee, he ardently whis- pered, “but I want thee for my wife.” “all right. The two simple words were eloquent with the language of the heart. He clasped her in his arms. “Bless you,” he fervently exclaimed. He was the first to break the rapturous silence en be gent “Do you care to meet me again?’ he gently inquired. She waited as if in doubt. “Yes,” she faltered, kicking large holes in the beach. " “I know it is unusual, but I really— feel “All right, Tl be at broakfast at 9, and you | may know me by the three warts on’ my neck. How can I reegnize my tooteey?” “Tl wear a green hat.” “Bre bye: T hope we don’t miss each other.” | “Good night; I hope 20.” | Presently the ocean was left alone with the | stars. death. I worked that wire for Every time I took roofed same peculiar nowe and worked in a spu' sort and to show iat there ek have been some hidden or occult force it crowsed the other wires. Every once in a while I used to ask Jones if he heard the noise, and he teen months. it made the him. ‘was actually so afraid to take the relay off that my bair used to stand on end, and I never had any further communication with the hidden force that called itself Charles Blake. I shall never forget that experience as long as I live. look so incredulous and are #0 apt to believe me a crank or a spiritualist when I tell it chat never relate it any more unless Iam ‘asked to do #0.” Mr. Field lives with his wife at Southside. He is well known in this city, and has the repu- tation of being a truthful and sensible man. There is no doubt in the world that he sincerely thinks that he was talked to on that old instra- ment without wire or battery, and he declares most solemaly that it could’ not have been a matter of fan Photographing Ghosts. From Black and Waite. The Mere Boy had been troubled a little with amateur photography lately. “I should like,” he said cheerfully to the Poet, ‘to take a pho- tograph of your ghost.” “Tl make a note of it,” eaid the Poet. you believe in spirit photography?” “In the interests of morality,” said the Jour- nalist, “‘we onght not to discuss such & subject. | It bas peculiar attractions for the picturesquely inaccurate, not to say the average fraud.” “Precisely 60,” the Eminent Person said, | weightily. ‘Spiritualism always ends in e posure. “Photography generally begins with it,” said the Mere Boy, less weightily. “Besides,” the Eminent Person continned, “it a ghost is material enongh for the purposes of photography it ought to be material enough for many other things.” “So it is," said the Mere Boy. “It may be material enough for an entire Christmas num- sep eneas: APHORISMS. Stadied Ont by the People, Even to the Common Spelling Thereof. From the Chieazo Tribune. When stage virtue triumphs by overhearing a villain’s soliloquy, it iz a poor moral az well az an injustiss to the villain. There are times when a man wad think thet NEAT “Do to make the earth a privit enterprise. | We don't put upa monument for the good ded man, az sum think, but for the bad ones thet ar still livin’. Cold facts don’t need eny flowers uv lang- Many a wize sayin’ iz only a figure uv speech travelin’ on the prestige uv an infer- ence. But triteness is not trooth, nor iz a pro- verb a proof. It is generally the couple who kan't live with,| outesch uther that don’t understand livin’ to- gether. Philosophy iz al’ rite, but it hain't got the stayin’ power of a pedigreed convicshun. There iz one expreshun with more meaning into it than “‘nevermore,” and that iz “whut av 38 ou know what I mean, If you can photo- graph a ghost why can't you catch it and taine it and tench it to do tricks?” “Well,” the Journalist said, “there is anadded sadness to death if the camera is to pursue us gaining sboct the oh phs of ghonts, ‘Palking aboat Logray Shoat eet ghostly thing ost ‘of a raph is— Reve: dnomeaa:s peieqraph mas iena aan: Faded photographs are expecially common in the sitting rooms of the lower middle classes, and there is generally a little story about them. ‘And the one over the door is Aunt Jane. Few knew what she went . poor dear, though Fou wouldn't think it to look at her there.’ en they tell you what Annt Jane bad in her back, and what a mercy it was when she was taken. The photograph is always pale yellow and spotty. You of Aunt Jane's eyes, hands out of focus and aphic basket Epmeke HT detest, faded for the matter of that, tolerate any one’s else old “The faded photograph is not Victuals and Drink. From the Tsble. a Young wasp grubs fried in butter do not at firet sight appear tobe the most alluring dish in the world, yet they have been pronounced delicious by those hardy experimenters who have tried them. Fed as they are upon the sweetest juices drawn from fruite and flowers, flowers; the mourning card as an ~Ons ebeula karen they naturally possess @ delicate flavor. Per- haps the best way to prepare them is to bake ‘them in the comb. ir of which I bave to vote a chapter which the subject will “vicarious | specific effects upon the persons that use them. | The case ia entirely different with alcohol. Mr. Field is a very intelligent and conscien- | You may have noticed, for example, that tious man, and he relates his fearful experi- | the men of a household take too chuhay ictorancths Chat batgae aajook det: | SSS satiac onl aorgamahls ak cioan | Reine enanenaabnerae spite of ite extreme im- | drunk and act ins farious and | When I write a certain book, the Tong contemplated, mock men, inebriation,” in aspects and bearings, and in the | ive manner. = men of the opinion that excessive lush tive of early death, he ce member, “May the ‘devil doctora. te if there ‘are not more old fe with “an ease Roget eet observation bas never, to my ceived the ‘hes been run into the ground long knowledge. ¢ attention it deserves. jrunkards th contained in thie — It borated, and therefore it is hardly correct to say that the subject of alcobol nd absolutely no one has as yet with Viearious inebriation That task has been re- be done f. have lite The office was in charge of an old fogy sort of *eTved for me, and if I ever write my | fellow named Jones. The telegraph instru- stall perform it to the best of my abi neh ment got out of adjustment, and I knew some- | * only another way of sayi work Teepe eda bap gy ecient ali time. The chapter will be such home an old-fashioned relay bx | te admit neither of elaboration nor confute- ken a nip I will explain matters, 0, thank you, T never drink.” xcellent yout - said the ma rfectly amazed and thought there must be able subject for -experiment. Here's all the bem mistake. To satisfy myself that I had ir off your head, Bald; ‘my imagination. for The main Proposition ts thet when one man And “Admir- now to proceed. drinks other people get drank, while the man himself remains sober, and even Cecomes soberer than he was before. The more he drinks the drunker they get, just as the more one end of the balance goes down the more the other end goes up. world drank, and treme and u and quiet that Patriarchs joy with which the stake and the lion torches, and so gardens and m to yourself the scholastic ele die age and the cloister life of the fi tury. M: ista of the past, and I behold a world of universal drinking, and ite natural outcome, or rather its natural concomitant, ent]: el. Tht real. For thousands of years the whole y sobriety was ex- ink once of the peace during the days of the | the resignation and even early Christians went to the and were turned into .d the light through Nero's of the pagan world. magi: tion of the ly mouth waters when I snifter? lordly palace and snoozed, knowing that their guardianshi matter of form—lay snoozing ai mid- think of it. man, “and tin gates. ‘The noble snoozed beside his leman dear and the swineberd beside his plump, sleek porker, amid the tender mast of the umbrageous forest. Friar Tuck and Richard of the Lion Heart drank great bumpers together in merry were as brothers, for the master and man on the seme level. It fact, the great leveler, and knows no distinction of rank or fortune; it wood, and Poy Fourrier and out-Lasalles Lasalle. “Men nd to want liberty, equality, fraternity! don’t they week it where alone it ts to be found —take a tod?” Sher- drink out-Fourriere “Go to the devil! Haven't I told you a dozen times that I never dri: ou are uncivil, my is rising. ‘our tem Blake | B® ‘No, I did not, ‘The truth is I was scared to | men, filled friend.” said the man. ness is a short drunk?” trariness of surest signs somebody else bas been . If I drink | mad, and what saith the proverb but thet on got Got mad “I thought it was that anger is @ short-lived madness.” **Zall the same thing—this quibbling and con- yours I don’t like. It is one of the known to the thet *Talwa; turn to our vistas. crops out sooner or later. But to re- “Itis to the rise of teetotaliem that we must trace nearly all of the evils of our present civil- ization, because for several reasons. | the most aparont result ov civilizashun haz bin | *l) our aan Bagg ere rede aye Song aguinat liquor did you ever hear of labor troubles like those over in” Hi of men if an employer his weeks and drank, everybod: nobody worked.” FREY i ki i i i | | | i it Hi Few over bear . In these days work an’ wages. 9 ts rich and drinks wine it sete “Well, what better could they do? You said that in the giad days of yore—” “Hold on!” said the man. in my life. Wouldn't make You forget yourself. Sure vign you're pretty gone. “You said that in the past, when everybod: lay around snoozing, rkmen off on a stree or a sprike, or what- ever the oat nn8 Sage ates idle for Never said Souhotes,