Evening Star Newspaper, November 26, 1892, Page 9

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D. C. SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. OF MAUVE CLOTH-LOWER P. RIBBON—CAPy OF CLOTH AND GIMP—HAT TRIMMED WITH BLACE A FASHIONS FOR WINTER Description of Stylish dion for Out- door and Indocr Wear. —>— XMAS PR OF SKIRT TE Lact D USELESS ACharming Princess Gown—Jnvenile Toil- ets—For Formal Calls—Velvet for Trim- ming—Tes Gowns—Getting Keady for the Holidays. pcan sn ae Special Correspen lence of The F New Yorr, Ne for emy rage rt pl Jane turned up ber and said powder, an have.” Then Mai sweetly a : 1 de Tam sure no on ever think Somehow feel near! dote and go tarian particulars cerning the princess gown shown in th sketch. It is flowered China crape, cut prim style in the ordinary manner and fastened be- hind with hooks and eves. The ap enly attached at the -iles to the and is made of stri; ed or dotted erey In order to prevent the joining fi Visible this upper dress can be attached (o the under dress under the arms at the seams, as shown in the engraving, below the bux The material is sewn on without lining in thick pleata. The border and the back breadths of ‘the overdress aro shirred at the th fastened to the under «ress. In order folds may not take up too muc erepe beneath them is fastened on to t der dress. The breadtias a rea, On the border aud back plastron of silk gauze, which falls from und the short jacket. This latter. like Ming of the dress, is of yellow sa! neutral tinted embroi rounded by a han roidered bor: opens both back and front and 18 c fs only xewn to the un part and i+ lined with Funning roun Upper dress and isedzed on both sides with tiny flounces or ruffles of silk or gauze. Both the under and upper germent mast be of equal width, if the Meant to clear the gr ik. a dress roursel 2r your own divection, by an twd crus’ cowxs. ‘The two pictures in which juvenile toilets are %9 ‘hey won't spill out because there is the | don't, and I want you to wi shown, along with these for women, were drawn from the actual garments as worn by live persons. The dress of the young girl was made of silver gray bengaline. ‘The yoke had alternate rows of white Lice insertion and ily gray mbbon. The older girl in the saue group ‘wore s dress of ercam cashmere, the edge of the skit being of cream embroidered tulle. VISITING breadth» is a| the skirt is only attached to the | TOILET MOVED WITH BLACK LACE AND BOW OF VELVET OP DRAPE YRIMMED WITH NARROW JETTED rt | The deep corsetet, which was laced behind, was | cream silk, brocaded with gold scales, to form ‘ance of a cuirass, The little child in d picture wore a wrap of pale blue with wide ribbon bows to match. The no feature of the mother’s home toilet was apron of figured Indian muslin trimmed with fancy lace, Lovely woman is now sitting up nights ruin- ing her eves and neglecting her children, ber iu-band, ber engagements and alot of things to muke « collection of impossibles for Christmas = loose, empire fronts, with bands, which confine the front only to the bust line, giving height to the figure. Some tea gowns are made asa loose blouse, falling quite to the ground and with the back demi-train, and these are usually cloth in delicate gray, blue, rose or ivory tinte, bor- dered with narrow fur. The sleevos are of silk and lace in high round puffs, divided by rib- bons, or there is a half sleeve of the cloth bor- dered with very narrow fur anda full puffed one of silk below. The corselet waists, whether of the open Russian type, the Swiss shape or the empire form, with feids or plaits, is a fash- ion likely to be extremely popular during the winter season, since it is invaluable for decora- tive effect. Very charming corselets are cov- ered with silken crochet or tatting and ‘‘jewels” or crystal beads are used for the ceuters of wheels and stars. Corselets formed of alternate stripes of ribbon velvet and jet are very at- tractive and may be entirely black, or colored ribbon velvet and jet is very pleasing. ——— +02 A THANKSGIVING DAY'S HUNT. Noodles’ Unfortunate Experience in Shoot- ing Hats With the Colonel. 66\ (ELL, DEAR BOYS,” SAID NOODLES last night at the Platypus Club, “I went shooting on Thanksgiving day.”” “What did you got?” inquired the dear boys, who had been relating in turn bow each of them had spent the holiday, “I came very near getting shot,” replied Noodles. “In fact, I was so unfortunate as to figure as the game instead of as the sportsman. Butitisa painful subject, and I must have something to drink before starting in to tell youthe story. Jobn, ask the gentlemen what they wilt have. “‘Tsuppose that all of sou know Col. Winter- dottom. Though most people take him for a cold, stern man, he is in reality a very warm- hearted old fellow, and I have recently had an opportunity of learning that he is subject to oc casional fits of very hot temper. Anyway, he is a triffe too irascible to suit me for « shooting companion. weakness of his when I accepted an invitation to spend Thanksgiving day, with dog and gun, in his company over in the wilds of Virginia. “We had very bad luck, finding not 0 much as a cock robin to knock down, and along in the afternoon we began to get discouraged. Finally the colonel mado a suggestion which seemed likely to provide a little amusement. He pro- Posed that each of us should throw ‘up hie hat in the air just once for the other to fire at. I | thought I'would risk my tile because the old buffer was such an abominably bad shot that he was very likely to miss it. We chucked upa penny and it fell to his lot to shoot first. “I threw up my bat as high as I could and he blazed away atit. The colonel fired ae it reached its highest point in the air und missed it entirel; concealed chagrin. Putting it back on my head I thrust a fresh cartridge into my gun—-only one barrel was permitted — ‘Now, colonel, it is my turn! “He threw up his hat, which was a rather dattered old tele and. raising my gun to m: fell. Turning with a smile to the colonel what ‘Was my surprise to observe that his ordinarily FORMAL CALLS. ¢ thinks it costs so mach less to make but she would do better to go to ores and bay them. But that makes no hinks peo) le like things than they do “bought he doesn t, bat she nt from other’ people. avuts and folks give her ends,made of tags of floss and we. sie pretends she likes thera. hh ihe average Christmas pres- now evolving is that they are ng, that ther trke up alot of r. hand bett bat they don’t. diffe ents women ar | good for ne TWO OF A STYLISH KIND. dthet they never match anything else Those dreadfu! bureau covers, for flimsy gauze, painted ‘and ali around them. OF course, | you can’tspend the | up and admiring | can youdo with them? You can’t | such things on the bureau, un- less you # ve another burean to These things are not pretty a minute after | ¢ least soiled, and ther are soiled the ook at them. Over the » Women you know, yoursel ing now. Do you want abigger You ean make a lovely pink watin business to hold telegraph They are so convenient, so nice to | @ man: goes in bis bag, you know. There | enamel pencil. like the program J: nud when he has a telegram to | n the middle of the night on the cars| Ii Lave this lovely little convenience i* bag. and how he will bless bis dear ardie! USELESS XMAS PRESENTS. You ean paint celluloid soap boxes, too. They Will please bim, and when he is far, fac away | } and goes to get his soap and finds you have taken away that old zine box he carried so loug | how surprieed he will be. Of couze we have ed out of making impossible tobacco d things like that. All our presents | ‘There is the dearest tittle blue satin thing, only atiny square that folds up ast the size of a stamp and ties in a dear littl bow so the stamps won't fall ont. How George | Vke that! He hasalways carried bis s in big sheet in his bank book, but this wa will have them all loose end convenient. Oh, | | is a dea: | pencils | write | there litde dear little bow knot,and of course when he | takes a stamp out he will be Just a little care- tml. ‘fhe only thing to be really particul about is to te up the box again after you have sot the stamp, and he won't inind that a bit. The third illustration shows a handsome | gown, such as modich New York women wear | for en afternoon or visiting dress. If pre- | ferred bengaline could be used instead of the cashivere with which the original was made, velvet instead of the surab, th t being of ashade darker gray than ihe skirt and | the zouave of gray or black ‘passementerie, In the final picture one dress was of gray bdengaline, trimmed with Russian_embroidery, | corselet and wide band edging. Tho skirt was gray velvet, with two rows of the embroidery laid on it; collarette of crepe, trimmed with braid. The second dress was of blue | velvet, striped with cream. It had a corvelet of cream surah and narrow flounces of blue vel- | Yet round the bottom of the skirt. There is no doubt that velvet is the favorite material for trimmings. The shot velvets are but ob, how expensive! Bat plain velvet always looks well and becoming, and this, or at least such an efficient substitute as the pest | Yelveteen, is within the reach of all. Veivet sleevesare much worn, as also are the round | corseiets, which, however, are to s certamex- tent superseded by the folded stomachers of which suits slender figure admirably, J especially when they are finished with one of those long--haped buckles, which are being _shown so mach now. The favorite materials | for walking dresses are tweeds, in gray and heather shades, blue or brown serge and plain | it, has got to fight me. That's all there is to that.” florid complexion was deathly pale. Almost inarticulate with anger, Le exclaimed, as he picked up his hat “‘D—nit, 6 an ontrage?” Why,’ I replied in amazement, ‘it was your own proposition that we should make the trial.’ * ‘Certainly,’ admitted the colonel. ‘But, sir, I supposed that you were a gentleman, and that, + of course, you would follow my ex je and refrain from hitting my hat, Now, sir, vou will buy me # new hat, sir, There is a hat store in the village half How dare you commit such Quick. march!’ “And do you know, dear boys,” «aid Noodles, “the colovel marched me all the way to the Village at the point of his gun, and obliged me buy him a felt hat that was worth about four times as much as the dilapidated one IL spoiled for him. ‘Then we came home by different Toutes, and I haven't received any apology from him since. ‘That is what I mean when Tsay I igured as the gume on thi ien't @ pleasint way to go shooting, on the whole, and, if you fellows are not unwilling, ill try’ to drown the recollection in bowl. Jobn, ask the gentlemen what they will have this time.” anderer on the fields of space— ild Bedouin of th Returning on some oroii known; Or outward bound, forey er down. Where fair Andromeda her train Nolds on the northern sky, ‘Thy path upon the heavenly plain, Sweeping in 5 Asignal on the starry sea— Wild courier of immensity. A moment here, around our sun, Where planets circling move; And when the visit swift is done; On wider felds to rove— Where stars are snns afar in space, And other worlds around them race. To seme thy ftaming plume seems bright, To some a fadiug star— The «igual on the brow of night, OF distance near or far— And millions now in all the land Are gazing at the ery hand. We mortals all are so intent On earth alone to dwell, ‘That {f the star is ontward bent, We'll gladiy say farew But if that orbit brings It near, Millions behold tn mortui fear. = mind the world our con} from lane te land, the news of weal or woe, But near or far upon thelr track, Over the teids above, He guides them through the Swift coursers where they He keeps us mortals where we dwell; He holds the worlds—and all is w —J. i. Curusznr. November 23, 1992. a Stable Present. Fro pra the Detr He told the store that he | wanted to purchase something that would be a suitable present for a young Indy. The clerk brought out albums, books, gold pens.and pen- cils and card cases, but nothing seemed to suit. As the last resort he showed the young man an engagement calendar—a beantiful little tablet on which to record the engagements for each day of the week, “Quite the fad now,” he explained as be dis- played the calendar. ‘Ail young ladies feel the need of them, especially during the eeason. “What is it?” asked the young man, engagement calendar,” repli “She'll find it invaluable—” ‘ou think she would like one?" asked the young man with forced calmness. sure she would, if she basn’t one al- ready,” said the clerk. “Well, I want to say to you that she wouldn't!” exclaimed the young man, losing control of his temper. “I’know ber and you nderstand, sir, that she bas no use for any euch calendar.” She doesn't have to keep any records of her engage- ments, This is the only time that she has ever been engaged, and any man who says sue will ever be engaged to any one eise, or that she haw to put it down ona tablet to remember the clerk. He had left the store before the clerk had sufliciently recovered from his surprise to ex- plain. An Example. From Puck. Kind old gentleman (oasis ing boy to get barrow up the gutter)—‘E don't see how you manage to get that barrow up the gutters alone. beaver and habit cloths in a number of pretty shades. GRACEFUL TRA Gowxs. Tea gowns cre extremely graceful—the long, ’ Bright youth—“I don’t. Dere's always some jay a-standin’ aroun’ as takes it up for me.” UNEXCELLED a8 a liniment, Salvation Ol, 256. Twas not acquainted with this | shoulder, I blew the top clean out of it as it) from here and you will buy it there. | THE WITCH'S GRANDSOK, ——-—_— 3. B PRATT IN “Two TALES.” ee P| HEN I WAS A GIRL I lived in a valley town where the mists from the river lingered late into the morning. And as Tlook back, it seems to me that the glare of the practical, every- day world came slowly to children’s eyes in Chesley—that some of us, at least, lived in « delightful, shadowy land, full of mystery I remember the fascination with which, at the age of ten, I gazed at a little weather- itself away from observation. The syringa tall, to keep out all prying eyes; and at one side Toses and hollyhocke, grasa pinks and sweet willinm crowded and jostled ench other and covered themselves with blossoms, as if trying to draw all attention in their direction. The flowers were quite neglected, and I had never seen anybody coming out of the narrow side door. I have a vivid recollection of a walk I took with my Aunt Louise, when we went past the | little house and followed the winding road to | an old grove on a hillside overlooking the river. | This younger sister of my mother had been liv- | ing with us about a year, but she still had a lively interest in all my favorite outdoor re- treats. Iremember just how she looked that day, as she sat ona lichen-covered stone and clasped her hands abont her knees. She had taken off her hat, and the sun made her brown hair golden around her fair young face. We were both very happy. ‘The swallows wheeled high above our heads. Beyond the chestnuts and poplars the meadows stretched broad and Breen, the river winding through them with many @ curve and the hills rising soft and in- distinct in the distance. On the other side of us, behind a clump of willows, stood the little house; and the sight of its smokeless chimney brought me back to the subject which, for some reason, interested me s0 much. “Do you sy anybody lives in that little black house?” I asked. “I don’t know,” answered Aunt Louise, | ing the rars from a dai - | building in the village, telling me about it last week. It was standing when the Indians burnt the town long, long ago, but | for some reason it escaped. We might make a story about it, Eilie. Perhaps among the In- | dians there was « medicine man who could work cbarins, and perhaps somebody who lived in this house—I think it was thé daughter—bad been kind to him once, and 60, when bis com- panions were starting fires right and left. he warned them away from this spot and cast a speli around these four walls and all the people inside them. And there thy ** she con- | tinued with dramatic emphasis, “just as they | Were when the war whoop sounded—they did [not have time to become frightened--the danghter standing by the great spinning wheel the old father and mother by the fire!” nd what is goiug to waken them, Aunt ise?” L inquired, gazing into her face with ntion as if the tale hid been more nite plot, “In the ‘Sleeping Beauty, | you know, it was the prince, but I think w | ought to ‘have something different. I'll tell | you,” Leried, red with creative ardor, “they | are going to sleep until the Indians come again | and make a tei whoop and rouse them. e playing with aiden’s lover » | Ca la by the | the spring of eterna ds Leon expected to find in Fiorida, vou know Some day he will co back footeore and sé he has found ont about tne rail- Ho will know the way to the old will go in through the s1de door. he kisses the maiden who bas been waiting there all the time—presto, change! they are ali alive a leven the chimn be he found which Pone ta bit, aunt} but I like mine better. Aunt Louise laughed and, getting up, said we must be going. We made our Way home, however, a long and geting one, lured aside by the peaceful river. My companion sent stones skimming across th water as if she had been a boy, and I, after try- ing in vain to equal her, launched some chip bouts which [ proposed sending with messages to absent friend “ can go anywhere, you know,” I said, child's half-believing fancy. “They m this river into the Connecticut and then out to the ocean. And they know how to get into other rivers, too. Some of your friends live by the ocean, don’t they?” “Yes, I remembev,” she said, with a dreamy look m her eves, “but Tam giad to think that my dearest friends live right here in Chesley.” St was then i was reminded to tell ber that dearest friend—outside uf my own family— Diek Leighton, “Woulda tit be more polite to calt him Mr. Leighton?” asked Aunt Louise, watching my which was fast driftmg shoreward. | Unabashed by this suggestion. I went on to ex- in that the young man in : din exactly as, bat that we enjoved very much; that he kad told sting things and never laughed I must have been an old-fashioned little person at chis period, and probably I said much more of the virtues and attractions of Mr. Dick Leighton, whose nT was. T remember I wondered why xunt Louise said so little in answer; and I asked her it she did not like and inquired what he talked to ¢ took her to drive, She blushed ghing answer. ‘Then she ed me in her quick, impulsive fashi ended in the wildest, merriest humor; and when we reached home we were both out of breath and ros; lt was a few days after this, one morning when I was passing the little old bouve alone and bad stopped before some cinnamon roves whick clambered over the broken fence, that I was startied by hearing somebody close to me say ina thin, high-pitched voice: And who is this young lady that I have the pleasure of. seeing?” Just on the other side of the rose bush, cutting off the abundant blossoms with mmense pair of whears, stood a wizened ¢ old woman, with sharp black eyes and quick, Dird-like motions. I found breath to tell her my name, and then added, to explain my presence, that [ was looking at her roses, which were very pretty. The litile creature appeared pleased With my response, and when I had an- Swered in the affirmative her inquiry if I was Jobn Talbot's daughter, she asked in stately fashion if she might be allowed to present some flowers to my respected parents with her com- pliments, As she cut the straying roses and inks she talked in a most learned manner. At jeast I supposed it must be learned, as I could understand so little of her meani When at last her task was completed she said: ‘Now may I ask the honor of a short call from my young friend?” Thesitated, 1 was a little doubtful what my | mother would say. But surely she would not | Wish me to hart the little old lady's feelings by | refusing her invitation. I made great point of this to myself, for 1 was very anxious to go in with ber and ‘ee what would happen next, so T could tell Aunt Louise about it. #,” I said, “I should like very much to come in,” and followed my guide through that low side door at which I had often gazed. ‘The room was dark and I almost ran against a chest of drawers which stood across our path. In fact, the furniture was so closely crowded together that one could scarcely walk. Old- fashioned chairs and tables were everywhere. A handsome old desk stood fn one corner, and in tront of it fase chintz-covered arm chair, ig enough to hold two persons, and having & high, flaring back with sides reaching to the top. into this the small creature lifted herself and saving: “Come, { wiil show you some of the old woman's treasures,” she opened a drawer i the old aocretary. “Bach itp: Gelighttal mix- ure of oddities er in the most charming confusion! “She"had some renee ble story to teli me about exch one. I sat with gree wide open drinking it all in. “At last she irew out a faded daguerreo' 1d handed it tome. When I first looked it Tcould only see that it was the picture of Sarna fonghem 4 Your ending is nice, benten house in a quiet Jane. It seemedl to hide | bushes in the tiny front yard grew thick and | Arthur Leighton, and Arthur Leighton wns Lady Matilda's only son. I have scarcely seen this youth since he was an infant, Does he re- semble Lady ag again examined and an- swored, “Ye-es, only he is'a man, you know and then he looks jolly instead of so solemn.” [y hostess paid heed to my She took the picture out of my hand and gazed at it im a reverie. “I remember her as if it were yesterday,” she murmured to herself, an then ‘turning to me, “She had the evil eye Her own eyes littered with a steely luster as she spoke, and I felt very miserable, frightened and alone. I did not know why. I had never heard of the evil eye, but the words had a mys- ferious, ominous sound. Iwished I were at ome. “Woe to him who fell under her curse! shouted the little woman in a strained, w natural voice. “From that day they pined and wept. Sleep departed from their eyes. Food brought them no strength. Their light went out!’ ‘The last words were spoken in a sepulchral whisper. My terror was becoming unbearable. I was overpowered by a wild, unreasoning dread. Her eyes, which were fixed upon me, seemed to hold me. I mustescape. Snatching up the flowers which Jay on my lap and gasp- ing: “Oh, thank—you for—the roses—and I must go now.” I ran out of the house, As I escaped into he sunlight and air I heard in the | same high-pitched, thoutrical voice, the word (Beware of the witch's grandson! evil eye!” Out in the bright sunshine my terror left me, but I felt depressed and uncomfortable. I did | not reason about or try to find the explanation for the story that had ‘frightened me so. At 10 we live in an unknown world. I knew not what marvels might lie close at hand. My depression was due partly to an over- whelming feeling of superstitious fear, but in the midst of this there was a special and bitter heartache. What had this unknown person | id about Dick Leighton, my Dick Leighton? ‘Beware of the witch's grandson!” How did she dare call him the witch’s grandson and talk of hisevileye? Icould have cried with grief and anger. “My proposed expedition with Annie Davidson for sweet flug was forgotten, and I walked dejectedly home. As I neared our house Mr. Dick Leighton came out of our front gate—in those da: try houses had frout gates. At the sight of him my heart rose and shook off its troubles. But | when I looked up with a fimile, expecting him to speak, he strode along apparently not ae | me. His mouth had a square, set look and saw that his hands were clenched. My eves filled with hot tears, When had Dick failed me before? That dreaiful old woman had somehow put everything wrong. I would go and tell my mother all about it. But my mother was not to be found. It was only after looking over the house that I dis- covered her in the guest chamber. She was shaking out the linen sheets, but as she heard my step she turned quickly, saying: “Elli, f am glad you have come home early. We bave just aad'a letter from Aunt Maria. She and Unele Reuben are coming on the afternoon train, and there is more to do than onecan shake astick at. First, I want you to go to the store and get me some things." Here isthe list. And | I wonder where your Aunt Louise is?” There was no time now for confidences, Uncle Reuben and Aunt Maria were persons of wealth and importance—for whom, too, we had asincere liking—and when they came to Ches- ley my mother always wished to welcome them with a spotless house and dainty fare. For the rest of the day there was to. leisare for body. The woman who helped in tho kitchen, Aunt Louise, my mother herself, and even I, had our hands full. [became so mach | interested in the savory cooking, the sweepin; and gatnishing—all thé exciting preparations that for the time my morning's sorrow was forgot! Shun his | the sion, for my Aunt Louise was | it y capable and thou avery fairy for bringing about do transformations, today she was awkward and forgetfu that she xecmed like somebod At supper—when the dis- { ests Lad arrived and our bost | table cloth was tefleetir 's black silk and Unel he sat, a te a ma, and made a great pre- | nd talkative. But Uncle | | Renbe: Ithat she was not eat- ing: and { let no discovery pass | edupon, He now announced with that Louise was ind He enlarged subject with mild and friendly humor, | | at which I reme I looked ver; | When Iwas achild I often foond “it understand what older people were lauzhi sad again in the mi n the verfind the glory of | R ‘ took Aunt Lonise aside and gained permission to sleep with her that night. ‘Th | quiet, white room crept over my and I was soon fast as When my ing. The m ing the root thought itn ile of the night, Bat there was Aunt Louise at the window in he sacque, her pretty hair failing abont | Once she stretched ont her | chingly, and then sh. buried her | in her hands and wept, softi deep: y. [was awake’ ine lay she was observed. The young figure bowed in the moonlight was like a Virion, and as I looked at it { heard again the little’ woman's words: “Beware of the witeh’s grandson! Shun the evil eve!” I remembered how Dick Leighton had looked when Imet him coming away from the house, and [ bered how the little woman had. saiv pe to them who fell under the curse, They pined and wept. Sleep departed from their exes. Their light went out!” In the depth of child soul I believed that the Leighton e had fallen upon my aunt. 1 was #0 posessed by the it were—that m; teat, but presentl: serted itself and whis; cred —my dear friend Dic ing evil to anybod: what he has done, the evil has madi so lifted out reason made not my affection aa hat Dick Leighton zhton—could never He does not know He does not know he bh: ew how unhappy he se ke would undo | the mi he would make her happy again. And then my resolution formed itself: I would | go to Dick Leighton and tell him the who! story and then he would set eversthing right | I felt that | had the soluti difficulty and my pnlse stirred with the triumphant | spirit of a Joan of Arc. But I wea sill young | and in spite of my great purpose sleep over- | powered me before Aunt Louise left the windo: Can you imagine a mi ivr oversleeping or ‘The idea is in t I did nop oj uing until the sun was. shin- ling brightly into the room and that when I | went down stairs Ifonnd the brenkefast, later an hour out of respect to our visitors, well Uncte Keuben was taiking when I slipped into my place. Uncle Reuben was not infrequently talking. He was a born organ- izer ial being with an overflowing fund of enthusiasm, This morning he had evidently been trying to persuade Aunt Maria and tho reat that it was poatible for every one of us co start immediately after breakfast for an ail- yexearsion. Failing in this be was now ing out the same idea the following day. ation I took stolen She was so self- possessed and eo xpparently engrossed in all that was going on that if her eyeg had not been heavy and if she had not been paler than was her wont (should have thought it was not she Thad seen at the window the night before, but afigure ina dream. But a flitting expression of pain which crossed her face fired my en- ergies auew. I felt that there was no mustake and that I must right the wrong. Half an hour Inter I was advancing, fright- ened but unwavering, under the drooping elms of tho Leighton yard'to the large old barn in front of which Dick was polishing the coat of s favorite mai “Good morning, Ellie,” he said, continuing his work. Thad no time for salutation, My words tumbled ont in a confused, impetuous torrent: “Oh, Mr. Dick, Lam stre ¥ou don't know you have it. I never should have known it. if the lit- tle woman who lives in the old black house in hhitney’s lane hadn't told me. But you do look like your grandmother and Aunt Louise cries and doesn't, sleep and pines and everything Just as the old woman said she would and 1 am sure you will know how to stop the evil eye so she won't do 60 any more—ob, woi was out of breath and almost eobbing. My listener slowly led the mare to her and tied her there. It seemed to me he was a long time tying her. When he camo is brofised face was a tide. paler am sternly: ‘ your Aunt Louise?” His gravity and decision steadied but after much turning and twisting her hand: some features, her di and the twee collar about er heck 5 ‘ atlas nae she had eald. “It, is Queen Victoria Satn Matilda Leighton,” she continued, “bat dhe was “SEirsow Disk Leighton T wd, gad to sive A glitle information on my own, pe it only # possible bearing on > “The youth of whom you speak is the son of me, Hs sernnese had « quality ‘ness. it suddenly my foolish, — | pation, reasonableness, said: Ellie, the poor terday is net | deal of trouble and it has made her partly | crazy; so that what she imagines seems to her old woman that you saw yes- quite herself. She has had a great true. There is no such thing as the evil eye and you must not believe such nonsense; but it was right for you to come and teil me what you | thongt, and f thank | thing tc’ make your brute,and I am going to tell her you for it. If I did any- Aunt Louise ery, 1am a —with which he strode out of the yard. ‘The details of what happened in the hours memory. [and days that followed have faded from my Thave a dim recollection that Uncle Reuben was highly pleased at the announce- ment of Louise's engagement and appeared to regard it as and I am abont my morn Leighton. come with ® special honor paid to his visi sure that nothing was said tome ing conversation with Mr. I was glad of that, for I was ove: shame to what the strange old woman had told me: and | think I had believed I was glad to let the whole affair drift out of my mind. But I never passed the little old weather- beaten house without feeling something of the awe with which I listened to the stories of its mistri Mrs, Rich: standin, . . . . Last summer when I was at Chesley visiting Leighton the little house was still but it made me sad to seo it, for the | roof had fallen in and the roses and hollyhocks were nearly overgrown with nettles and bur- docks, The little old woman is dead. Lonise’s oldest boy was with me when I stopped to look at the familiar place, and when | he saw the cinnamon roses which still clamber over the broken fence he wanted to pick some for his mother. Teall brought back the story I have been tell- ing, and when we got home I said to Louise “My dear, what did’ you and Richard quarrel nounced? about the day before your engagement was an- She looked up with » quick smile, saying. “How did on know that?” But she would only say in answer that it was not worth telling. I saw her smilo to herself once or twice that afternoon as if she found her thoughts pleasant company. and when Richard came in she went to him and patted his hand as if to make sure he was there. ———-+e+___ DISSIPATION. Our Modern Girls Ruin Their Health, but Not in Dancing. From the New York Tribune. “Tam going to have a good time next week,” said a Boston girl the other day | calls it a regular giddy swirl of frivolous dissi- | Monday I shall spend most of the day | | atthe bazaar for the Home for Aged Couples | ! that Twas able to enter into the | #t Horticultural Hal! and I'll “My brother lovely meet- ‘echnology and in the evening I'm going lay in mont Temple to he day, ch! Saturday I do want to go to 5 field te the foot ball go to the Channing ‘ounger Mini | Bulfinch Chapel to see and hear a pretty girl's id of the teachers’ bazaar. Thursday for Aged evening I shall jose charming Ping Lee and Wong Chin Foo, exclusion law, d Satur- nga- game, but more I want to Hall meeting of the’ rs’ Association!" ” a NEW SHADOW PICTURES. Two Hands, a Light and a White Wall Will Now that P. | = ‘amt ved ngain it was not morn- | tHe #inusement of the children is a serious con- | Here are some new shadow pic- tures that it might be well to ¢ make them. They do not require abnormally sideration. Furnish Lots of Amasement. the | Prom the New York Herald. the long winter evenings are here Any one can developed hands and arms. ‘Try go in the evening | | to hear Carroll D. Wright speak on the influence | | of the factory system on intellectual develop- | ment. Tuesday the fair for the Working Boys | Home opens at the Gettysberg building. “Wednesday afternoon ther: Jing in the interest of fresh water baths at How They Get Themselves Talked About in Paris, VAGUE UTTERANCES In Explanation of Their Methods in Paint- ing, Poetry and the Drama—What » Nam- Correspondence of The Evening Star Panss, Nov. 5, 1892. HIS IS THE SEASON when Paris wakene to her true life, the Paris which is » hot bed of new adeas in fashion and art and literavure. Of Inte years the younger impressionists, or symboliste, as many choose to call them- selves, have made them- and poctry and the The surviving brother, De Goncourt, in the notes of his diary, which he has been publish- ing, claims that the Japanese pottery which he introduced to the French public was the real starting point of impressionism in art. In any case the word has a somewhat vague meaning, and the young men who aro now coming for- ward prefer calling themselves by another name. The words of one of their principal Tepreeentatives, in the preface to the catalogue of one of their recent exhibitions of paintings, do not make the matter much. clearer, scarcely meet the banter and criticism vet where leveled at men of talent whose youth is their most vulnerable point, “There is a distinction,” he says, “to be made between ideaists, those who are ' content with translating cerebraliy nature as they have observed it. and the symbolists, properly #0 called. who seck out the eternal und unchange. able facts of the world of the soul, to express form; to the epoch, or even to the creating artist who has found them.” These symbolists, to use their own name, employ colors that seem startling to ol.- fashioned picture lovers, while their poetry is made up of language next to incomprehensible. It has been suggested that their reason for ali this is by way of reaction against the sacrifice of high art to popularity nly the new school seems destined not to pass the bounds of the narrow circle of the initiated, unless to create surprise. SOME CHARACTERISTIC UTTERANCES. One of the latest expositions of impressionist (or symbolist) paintings drew out explanations from some of these young enthusiasts mach more characteristic than any of mine could be. In order to get definite Porter had carefully prepared a set of questions to be asked of each. The answers he received were all that he could get in the way of definite- ness. He first entered the coquettish iittle studio of M. Anquetin, who, thougi ox irty-three years of age, is the oldest of the He saw before him a slender, straight, vigorons-looking young man, with’ chestnut hair like a brush and blonde Ueard like a fan, with clear eye and sarcastic mouth. ‘How do you qualify yourself? imply: “Before this I unhappily under certain influences, but all my efforts are to get rid of them, Symbolism, impressionism, ‘all that is humbug; no theories, no schools, only temperaments.” “Whai do you admire the most! | Renoir. These are two pure ge: justice ought to be don ‘yon think of the others—Cabanel, Henner, Carol is Duran, Meissonier?” “Ido not think of them at all! | Meissonicr only knew how to do the photog- raphy of costume. All that I can say of his | work is that I would not wish it to be mine.” The second artist, whose name is yet unknown in the great world, was M. de Toulouse-Lautree. For the most part he paints women dreaming in melancholy fashion on divans placed in pub- ic arcartes. “But he has also painted, even for the colored posters of the street, designs from the dance halls of Montmartre. He does not often sign hiv fail name, with his rank as vis- | count, and he may justly be suspected of any- thing that is radical, He has been hailed as, rtisticuliy, the near relative of the great Jap- | anese colorista and masters of design. | readily answered the questions put to him. “Lam of no school. I work in my corner. I admire Degas and Forain, I have no opinion about contemporary masters. Lam striving to acquire one. As to Meissonier, I think he gave himself a great deal of trouble, and we are bound to yigld esteem to people who give them- selves trouble.” A RELIGIOUS MYSTIC. The third artist, M. Emile Bernard, was ex- pelled from Cormon’s studio at the age of six- teen vecanse of his impressionism, and there- upon tramped his way into Brittany, seeping in barn living on what he could pick up. ardent Catholic and is the religious mystic among these painters, His “Christ ‘Taken Down From the Cross” undoubtedly eon: veys a very vivid impression. He is now twenty- five years of age, aud, hike all the brotherhood, has ‘long hair.’ His straw-colored beard is brought to a point, and he looks at you with a gentle smile in his blue ‘eyes. Lie is ted for his erudi- tion in art matters, and his energetic character has changed. “I am very Christi he begins, “and I try to which are within creating a hie that should lift itself above things, above actunlities, As to Js and inspiration, we mast go back to mitives, to be very scant from ihe tech- nical point of ‘view, use the line only to dete color only to determine state. we must which will be age. [think that Cabanei, Carolug and the rest are all cretins, ‘stood anything in the > admire of Kaphael, Vinei his dirst pictures we lust ones are juice from Anquetin, rks they profess &e. As to Meissoni well-made cakes, bh the roasting oven. terviewed was M. Maurice Denis, who was for four years a student at the Peaux Arts and in the Academie Jullien. ix also a good Cathotic and does religious paint- ing. He is twenty-iwo years old and speaks j like an old man. 'e are not,” he rays, ‘pretentions people,liv- ing with the conviction that we have discovered unchangeable art. We are seckers ax humble us possible. For me, personally, I have the them in ermbols which owe nothing to exterior | anewer, but be concludes by lis com | viction that Mr. Whistler has been wise in paint= ing impressions, which he Goes well, for hape he might bave been incapable of e1 | Pictures of the «ame high order! This i am- | other, and perbaps not the least charitable, so | lution of the tmpregsionist question. Symbolism, which is the latest mood of im- Preesionism, has become classical by ite theat- Tical experiments. It was the habit of the more enterprising members of the fraternity to remt | some little theater for a monthly wv of | their principles reduced to practice, When ite evening came the public was sure to be of the most checkered ort, From the boxes glubmen looked railingly down on young men of liters | ture and students. This is called the associa~ tion of dandyi«m with art. No doubt the rich People who gather at these experiments do not come up to the expectations of the literary men in supporting their theories. But they come to amuse themselves cheaply and they ‘bave their money's worth. The following is @ typical evening ATYPICAL RVENIN Five short pieces were given, of which one was in reality an eradite dissertation, with dramatic incidents, on the marriage of priests in the time of Gregory and certain other con- j temporary heresies, such aa that of Pelagiva, At one point The: who isa bishop, kuecls in prayer with his clergy for strength to con- quer temptations of pride and of the flesh, Wherein the elegant portions of the audience found ‘amusement by responding loudly | elves rauch talked | , The #trong of the evening was “Les Avengies” of M Matertine * about, in painting hos wale rye i nck. Mr. Hlowelle h this author in general and | this piece in particniar with hngh critical praise in the “Editor's Stndy” of Harper's Monthly. 1 prefer recording the amazed impressions of | M. Sarcey, for forty years the most inveterate | theater goer of France “The curtain rises, It is always night. stage had been in darkness ing piece.) I see confusedl: which tw as black as an sons, seated in differe: very well hea: because they peak low, as in the dark. From the few ‘words I catch understand that these are blind men from abos- pital by the sea,whom the jain bas taken oat for a promenade and whom he has sban- doned. Where is the chaplain, they ask. We are lost! What o'clock is at? Twe striking. Is it noon or midnight? have thought that blind men knew bow | tinguish the hours of the night from d by the freshness of the air and other indica- tions. One ng them, and he is the only ys to his comrades: Let as jon from which the sound comes, Ho is right, this brave blind man, and the hos- pital cannot be far away if they hear the clock strike. But this would be finishing too soon. lament and despair. They have « dog. dog I did not ree, because it w upon the «tage, bat the dog is sp a neighbe ® good pair coul was leading one of the n ton body stretched across | go in the dire the way. "he blind man bends over and feols acorpse. But he ix cold! then, speas, thi at once. It seems that red. for furious applause breaks forth in that part of the he hich is occupied by the young men. I acknowledge that this Maeter- mak. on me Vhese pi & mystificat what th ll the regeneration of the the- uer, © © A CRITIC BORED, } know? they are beginning to bore { 5 ll these pretended masters pieces, w from Relgi nd Germany and Scandinavi suntey posstbie and amible before which they stand in mute | *o much the more as they under= stand them the lew, Now all this is affectation and pose. Good Lord, preserve us, preserve | those I love, my confreres and the good bour- | geoisie, and the very symboliste who trinmph in the night, preserve us from exotic literatare, from the plays Shakespeare, from Ibsen the peare, und, if Ld | peare himself. But tive latter, the trae one, has at least written half a dozen coume masterpieces, which makes me pardon bim The Inst y evening was a rather daring transformaticn of the Biblical canticle of cunticles. In this what may be called special orchestration was used, under the four | told relationship of the word, the’ music, the color and the perfume. hhe first device was written “on Inmine d endo, claire, en encens.” All which means that, while the actors were recit= ing verses in which the vowel sound “4” pre- dominates, but is render en pour | ing parple hight au | wafted over the audi has its equivalent orchestration, Words in “3” made luminous with “o, | in color bright orauge, perfame white Th ly wcene the decoration is erent color, to this color cor- responds the tone of the music, which in turm corresponds to the sound of the ‘recitative, and to the tone corresponds a perfume. Por the lntter purpose there were vaporizers im the side scenes. the perfume of incense is nce. The joy of the spouse TRE YOUNG ENTHUSIASTS. Certainly at was fine to soe the whole legion of the young enthnsia:ts, with their Absalom | heads of hair falling below their broad-britamed, | hate—hate which, it seems, are avmbolical of genias eyes, and all furiously into the audience, at least, needed something more than an explanation jwhen it wax over, The vaporizers which squirted the perfume out to the audience did their work rather too thoroaghly in his ease, | He was sn ved with the | fragrance | acucia | Jessa theater the epeciators gave him « wide and he had to hurry home to change garm In a series of reflectionson the growth of | madness, occ by the sad misfortune of | ML. Manpass nes Lemaitre mis turns on these intext extravagances inl ‘The case with some is next to They really f the meaning of words, Their search after the an- expressed ends in infantile lisping. Often with | them there is has been regarded unti! now as uniquely cbar- acteristic of certatt For them letters Many of 1 “ I am now con- | at they be that we do, Theireves nob only Juminoas vibrat: | se | the of evervthing else, & little blue in certain greens they paint trees perfectly i Because objects interchange among thenuselves imperceptible fecaity of admiring painters very different from myself. Contemporary masters offer some interest to me. Meissomer was a re- table man, who knew his trade as a painter, anks to hiv imitation of the Kttle painters of Holland. More than all else, I think a painting should decorate. The choice of subjects and scene is nothing. It is by the coloring, by the value of tones, by the harmozy of lines, that I sim at reaching the mind and awakening the emotions.” ‘The last of the band, M. Pierre Bonnard, is also very young. He is considered by his com- rades a wonderful decorator and illustrator. He exhibits panels showing fantastic combina- tions of motives and colors. “Painting,” he says, “ought expecially to be decorative I be- tong to no school. I wish to do vomething per- sonal, and Iam ualearning at present 1 had great deal of trouble to learn at the Beaux Arte during four yeurs. For some Iwas much set the painters who are more or less members of the Institute. Bat now I think we cannot have a grudge against them for not being geniuses. They have their reasons for doing what they do.” WHiSTLER’S PORTRAIT. ‘There has been some little discussion here as to the picture by Whistler, the portrait of his mother, which was bought by the French gov- retiections, they «how us onty the refiections, they fiau m before us and forget that which is habitual permanent under the changing colors of thing black does not exist, the Dut blue and vellow. *Asnuredly nature js not the sume for them as | itas for us. “Ought I to say all? The impres- sion which I once had from visiting a Iunatio | asylum that impression several vocng men of | today have almost given me | They eeem to me fundamentally different from ‘us others, | 1 do not feel any communication between them and myself. The approach to them | has been for me devoid of intellectual security. Thave a great fear of these young men who are so grave. Either they are in reality demented or they are already the men of genius of the future age. But this, is it not true? We cam not yet know.” Sreausxe Henze, > Her Carriculum. From the Chicare Tribune. Maud—*-Going ig start to college next week? That will be delightful. Whatdo you expect to take for the first y Daisy—“‘Seven: trunke and one study.” —