Evening Star Newspaper, February 11, 1893, Page 7

dl ee. THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. ©. f SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 11, 1898—SIXTEEN PAGES. Long pelisse coat, with jacket cut showing brown velvet vest. ricbly embroidered. Coat and sleeves finished with rows of f jacke FOR FAIR WOMEN. | made to match the gown with which they are to be worn, the outside being of the same mate- as most of the gown, and the lining either other material used in the dress or a shade at carries out the second color of the gown. | Por instance, a gown of green and white would show a cloak of either green to match or white lined with the other color. A pretty model is the military cape, coming to the kneés and made Pretty Ball Dresses and Gowns for Evening Wear. full. Itean be still longer, like the old-time - ~ | dominoes, to cover all over. Another, model 7 = 4x G |*howsa yoke of the material finished with a MATERIAL AND LINING. | very fuit ruftle edged with fur. The rest of the cloak falls full under this ruffte, and is of the Be second color and material. It is also with the fur. Another lovely cloak is in age Costume | “elvet and white brocade. The yoke and ~ "* | lining are of the yellow velvet; the rest of the —Stiffening for | white brocade. The fur is able, but the model can be followed out much less expensively and ones and all that put between the ma- and the lining, which sills or satin, of a} ating olor to the | that the dress | ty as 2 ss over achair while my Indy changes or | «it is laid ont ready for | her to get into. Sleeve | rate those dread- tul things-are basted into mhole. They change as often r corset cover and are | covers are, of ec can be to ree. | collages leet ten A HANDSOME HOUSE DRE&S. | Jeet to St, which | clmost ancharmingly. A chalk for simenee cr| There are rib- | Winter wear is most unique. The lining is of | ress and the pro- | Very rich silk-back velvet. and the yoke of the | put secy with the | From the yoke hangs almost priceless pony Spee ee . OF course through the lace the silk back | ot isa heavy | Of the lining of the cloak shows, We are not “ |allso rich us that, but if you have such an | oom as @ beautiful old ince shawl there is a | e for it, and the rest of the expense can be | eluded by ning the velvet with «ilk. To tell the truth, if tho silk is ® perfect match no one will know. Still no one could fail to know what it was that showed throngh in the cloak I saw. It was the silk back of the velvet inside the clonk. Ihe third picture is of a handsome house dreas in cloth anc plaid silk. The skirt is ned at the left sidé to admit a panel of the . Three large buttons are placed where the skirt is joined just above the panel. There is zouave jacket bordered with passamenterie. ‘THE STIFFENING FOR SLEEVES. Feathers and not stiffening is what you should putin your sleeves to make them stand out stiff and crisp. Feathers are light snd hold} | their place, aud resume their shape if they are | ashi If you stiffen with crinoline your wn is oniy new and fresh looking the first few times wear ic. The newness of a gown lies almost altogether in the sleeves. We hear lote raid against the great sleeves. but don't ‘ou join iu it. Instead gratefully take advan- | tage of the fashion, and remember that from fle to go over the tin front. Mere seraps vers aud bits will do for a top puff on the sleeves, or even arufile to hang over the top of the under puff of plain goods, and so add to the richness of the whole, | surely a much more artistic use of goods and to bits than when we used cut up * the back view of 1 acostume with a shawl The skirt of this frock tand is trimmed with nd bottom ot the and of roses of « dat the back has a ve under a large bow hb may There is a h elbow there ix a long cu iim by a herring: neath the ki ANOTHER ISDOOR GOWN. make little bands for collars and cuffs, and perhaps a belt. Now that the elegance of &@ gown depends nearly all upon the sleeves you ean with very little work secure an effect of elegance. You can bead or paint enough for sleeves. or stripe the top puff with ribbon or id the top of the two puffs or the one big sne with strips of tine stuff, ribbon like, only .cosely. It is worth while to get enough gold lace of net of good quality so it will not far- nish to make two big covers for the puffs. With these slipped over the sleeves of your white brocade short-waisted bodice and a gold girdle you makeanother dress out of your white sik gown. Or thas you may make the white brocade bodice do for two dresses: The one with @ heavy brocade skirt, perhaps beaded with gold, with which, ‘of course, you would wear the bodice fixed with the gold sleeves. ‘The other just » very fall soft skirt of either India silk or and this without the gold over the sieeves, You see the two gowns would be of so different a character that no one would suspect your economy. Be- sides, remember how short a time comy tively fashions last, and how little after all you are able to show for the amount of money spent. Common wisdom dictates foll the fashion with as little outlay as possible. ‘Thus it is wie now tb take up the empire because in this field we can use up the materials of our oat-of-fashion dresses. After the wear is had from those materials it will do to take up erino- limes. We would by then have to get new stuff anyhow, and at least the crinoline style wili ive us peaty of goods, and, if we are wise and ve learued not to be too proud, we will be well equipped for remodeling for the next chany ge. ‘The last illustration shows another house drows of light gray bengaline, with corselet belt of satin ribbon, knotted behind and falling in , jtong ends. There are deep cuffs aud a sort of nd may either bang loosely or be fastened in of point d'Irlande guipure. The skirt the belt. no train, but is slightly at the back prettiest cloaks for evening are those! than st the front. The lace falis over VEL ZOUAVE EFFECT. A reception costume for a middle-aged lady | fe next pictured. It is of satin, trimmed cither with plush or marabout. The belt should be | cut wide or narrow, according to the figure of the wearer. ‘The trimming for the waist can be real or imitation lace. It falls from the neck fm large folds, something like a zouave jacket, | the pawnbroke the front and back ts draped to cover neariy ail the rbonlder sen ‘The corselet is made on nes: these bones oceupy the place of t seams. For this purpose one is jlaced in the middle of the front, one between | the daris und one on the under arm seam; the remainder of the sith being knotted at the back does not require to be boned. The material for the sleeve is cut very full and gathered on to the lining so that it stands up at the top in two little horns. First, find the middle of the material and the middle of the tight-fittiog lining and make ® notch on each. Then proceed to gather the material in the usual way, — beginning abou! two inches from the bend of the arm, and stopping about two inches from the notch in the material. Fasten the gathers on the lining, stopping an inch from the lining notch, then recommence to gather two inches from the other side of the material notch, thus leav- ing four inches plain in the center f the ma- terial. Fix these gathers to the lu leaving an inch on this side of the lininz notch plain. ‘Then take the material which is loose at the top and, drawing it well up from the sleeve, form the two hittle horns on the plain part of the lining, making them stand out: well rom the contour of the sleeve. This way of draping the sleeve is qnite new, and gives an air of originality to the dress.’ The military collar to which the lace is attached fastens on she shoulder. ——s A PICTURESQUE GOWN Which Takes One Buck vo the Fashions of 1799. ‘Tho thoroughly artistic followers of Parisian modes mast delight in the waxing boldness «f design in the models coming to us every week. ‘They must rejoice, too, that the bewildered spectators mentally con history and strive to A NEW ROBE DE VISITE. recall the dress of heroines of romance when they see these reproductions of Parisian epochs bearing down upon them on Broadway. Really, American women, or that minority of them which doesn’t labor, seem to the vast majority of us who do to be playing little parts in ahistorical pageant, a series of tableaux vivants, whose characters were chosen from the portraits of dames long dead and gone. But it isnot so, These daughters of the dames long dead and gone have their gowns straight from Ponce have taken their “creations” from “old por- traits.” Doubtless they are modernized and retouched Strange to us before th couturiere in New York puts one on madame with a triumphant uplifting of the eyes. A gown which arrived inst week is said to be the replication of one which may have beon worn by a royalist dame when royalist heads were falling into the basket and the little Corsican was coming to rule. It is of mirror velvet and heavy sable trimmings. The jacke®, short in the back, slopes to long pointe in front. It is not fitted to the figure, but hangs loosely, turning into revers faced with ciel biue faille. "A broad girdle from waist to botom of the faille, embroidered with gold threads, is finished with a band of sable. The tight sleeves are capped with detached puffs sable edged. There is a chemisette of old point de Venice Jace. ‘The hat is beaver velvet trimmed with a bunch of tips. so MRS, TOM TH "S WATCH. Bought by a Man in a Pawnbroker's Shop. From the Jewelers’ Circular. ‘The Circular's St. Loais reporter made an early morning call on E. C. Zerweck last week. He found Mr. Zerweck very busily engaged in examining « miniature watch. “Isn't this a daisy,” said Mr, Zerweck, as he held the little timekeeper before the astonished reporter. “This is the smallest watch in the | world,” continued Mr. Zerweck, and he laid « five-cont silver piece over the dial, which com- pletely hid it from view. “This watch has a history very much oat of proportion with its ve. It has been carried by some famous men in its time and is now owned by Frank Gerhart, a realestate dealer. The watch was made in Geneva for Patti the famous singer, at a cost of 2,000 francs, and was presented by her to Mrs. Gen. Tom ' Thumb, the noted midget. ‘The watch ix more of a wonder than the midget was. “L have just taken off the original case,” and Mr. Zerweck held up a miniature case studded with diamonds, “and mado the plain case you now see it in, as Mr. Gerhart wishes to wear it as a charm and is afraid of an accident to the original case. Mr. Gerhart bought the watch in a pawn shop in Chicago. How it came into possession is a point in the history of the watch that is w little obscure and is likely to remain s0.”” — bie Accommodating. From Tr Jeweler—“I have shown you all the rings that I bave suitable for a daughter twelve years old.” Mrs. Russell—*Well, I've changed my mind now. I think I'll wait uatil she’s fifteen.” Jeweler—“All right. Take a chair!” — oe The Triangulation of Fashion, From Life. . Bonnet and Duboys, who, themselves, | A SIMPLE BALL. Gow | A Parisian Fashion Praises a Sthr’s } Moderation in Dress. of a Paris paper says: “If one will study the ve stars of onr theaters one will see that taste is not sacrificed to the ridiculous extravagances which the fancy for the empire forms and the 1890 adjustments can introduce inio the mi d- ENCH 1830 GowN. ern costume. The actress wishes first of all to be beautiful and attractive. Therefore she ia not the slave of a fantasy. The gown is made for her to bring out all her grace and beauty.” This is only wiat we Americans have known all along, but we will sacrifice our best beauty to the modes, because we do not make them, I suppose. will plunge into an 1830 gown and wear it bravely over large hips and, alas! not over a rounded neck, or wear ruities galore on skirt and ehoulders if we are short and | plump. There is no manner of doubt that the 1830 gown is peculiarly trying. There is little softness about its finish ou the bodice, while its round full skirt accents hip development. A young and slender girl, or a woman who has carefully strengthened her tissues by massage, are perhaps the two types which can best wear the 1890 costumes. The a companying cut shows anew and novel ar- rangement. The gown is of rose bengaline, fitted without seams closely to the figures, Revers of rose velvet are folded back tightly around the arms several inches below the shoulders, ‘The revers are edged with point de Venice. A chemisette, cut round and low end meeting the revers at the shoulder, is maguiticently embroidered with long ropes of pearl ‘be skirt gathered to the waist has a deep flounce of lace caught with loops of pearls around the bottom. The coiffure is distinetly quaint, It isa tiny openwork cap, bordefed with roses and set closely upon’ the parted locks. ‘The hair is coiled highly at the back of the head in fanci- ful knots. EVE! coe ‘G MANTLES And a Peep at What is Worn Beneath Them in Paris. From Season. ‘The Paris Opera House is, generally speak- | ing, « place where beauty and fashion may be \ seen to advantage, and it is both amusing and interesting to watch the crowds of well-dressed | ladies waiting in the crush room for their car- es. While recently doing so we particu- Inrly admired the magnificent evening mantle, all evidently freah from the workrooms of lead- ing dress aud mantle makers, Certainly band- some cloaks are more voluminous than ever, quite monuments of comfort, not only are they ample in themselves, but they are made heavier by a deop back fold; pelerine, high collar, fur and fringe. Thefavorite material is rich, pain ‘sha silk combined with velvet a darker. Tea-green silk with emerald vel- vet, pink silk with rby velvet, trimmed with “application, and fringe ‘or bead embroidery, embracing every shade and color, are fashionable combinations. Fur is also often added, either chinchilia, sable or different shades of the curly Alnsku goat. ‘The handsome Iinings are another color, as, for instance, light bine to rose-colored mantle. Besides there large wrapa we also noticed very pretty short ones made of thick velvet, with lace, gold or silver embroidered pelerine. High collars are now less seen in the street, but are indispensa- ble to evening mantles. Now let us take a peop at what is worn be- neath this rich drapery. Should the opera cloak be taken off we catch a glimpse of lovely dress bodices, although after the way of all good dressmakers they seem quite simply male, Our first illustration shows a corselet of myrtle green velvet embroidered with gold. At the back it reaches to the top of the higi bodice, but going below the arms in front. It is loose from the upper drapery of turquoise blue crape, drawn together in the middle by a cluster of diamonds and emeralds. Similar clusters of flowe:s and tho emeralds arp i aveel ee a fitting lining, behind. The _coiffuri d, in Louis XIII style; monds marks. line above this very becoming style of many faces. Another stylish also merits description. The lower part et, covered with yeliow- draped transversely cut equate scrote, apparently without seam or stiteh, passes un ead the arms and ends with « double. heading at 8 aide back | i | SS A MATRONLY Gown. | Satin Garnitared With Jet Diamonds and Lace. Lemon A bright woman writing in the Inst number | A decidedly orizinal gown has just left its creator's hands. Its description, however, is | ible of the newest creations worn by the | going to be a dismal failure, because no woman Will believe that four different materials can be used in a dress without spoiling the dress and the general effect of the woman herself, and savoring, unhappily, of remnant counter squab- | bies._Even the accompanting cut isnot pretty. The figure appears to be bunched up and dis- tressed and there xcem to be too many “fixin’s,”” ax the economical New England dress- makers term them. But Ido and will main-| tain that the real woman im the case was | very pretty, very graceful, very distin- | guished, and, withal, very decidedly en-| hanced by the gown which only a masculine critic with a glass in his eye pronounced “great.” He might have pitied the spouse of this happy dame, too, if he had suspected what | we women knew—the awful greatness of the | couturiere’s bills which alone could make this | costume a success. We took a consensus of | opinion on its date and decided, after much bitter discussion. thet it was Louis XII. If} this is a historical error I defy any of my read- | ers to make me believe it after she has proven it. ‘The skirt was of lemon satin, opening at the left on a panel of ciel velvet. The edge of the satin, from waist to hem, was magnificently embroidered with finely ent jet. The bottom of the skirt and the wavy train were bordered | with sablp. So much for the skirt. The corsage was round, and the long waist of the wearer--she was very iall aud exceeding siender—was draped | with soft folds of heaven blue velvet. The | satin bodice was cut low to display a glimpse of blue mousseline de soie, fulled straight across the bust. The eves wore shoulder puffs of velvet, met by long yellow gloves stitched with black. A VERY ORIGINAL GOWN. And now for the distinctive touch of the costume. A collarette of deep point de Venice fell well over the bust and down the arms. In front it was caught together by two immense jet stars, from which depended long chains of many faceted beads, They were caught twice to the sleeves, then once more in the middle of the collarette be- hind. A necklice of jet and flashing diamonds and a gleaming dagger, whose hilt was diamoud- crusted jet, made this costume a triumph. —_——$+o+—____—_ A TRAVELING GOWN, Straight Lines, Tight Bodlces, Trim Effects, Are Still in Style. The clash of reigning modes in the world of fashion and the disordered advance of new masters have left intact just one old custom dear to the feminine heart, that of » simple, subdued and tant traveling gown. There is a solo retreat where every well-bred woman 18 certain to be delightfully, charmingly modern, where —must I insert the clause—save for her hat, man has no reason to assert that the dread hoopskirt proves woman no more “advanced” than she was forty years ago: the retreat is the well-hated train. “There the so- culled “emancipated” wear the graceful straight skirt and the bodice which obediently defines the waist lines of the wearer. And there we behold the vanishing type of the dear, tailor- made girl, She is dressed in a pale-tinted ladies’ cloth, heavy broadcloth, or some smooth fabric which may be sparingly trimmed with velvet or bright colored silk. The tailor-made girl has yielded A TAILOR TRAVELING GOWN. gracefully and without abandon to the figaro or some other form of the jacket. She uses it with close little revers, showing silk or velvet, which cease at the shoulders and refrain Srom the 1830 fall over the balloon sleeves. Or she utilizes the jacket as suave without the revers. In this case it flares very slightly to show the silken lining. ‘The hat above all this taut sim- plicity may be an 1830 poke, its feathers nod- ding detiance and its scoop proclaiming that though tho girl beneath ix tailor-made, she is also up to all the latest freaks. A traveling gown seen on a brand new bride was of postman's blue ladies’ cloth, ‘The re- vers of the jacket were faced with blue silk shot with red. ‘The vest was crosked by rows of narrow passementerie and the skirt was finished with it, ‘The hat was a decided looking poke of blue felt, trimmed with tail plumes. ‘Tux Larest. ~ 000 Written for Evening The Star. Counted. *Twere better ne'er to see the sun ‘Than ive without a friend: For each one loved is a counted ray Of a nearer ord whose cheery day Has never a night at its end. —CARLETON EMERSON SNELL, Anacostia, D. C. | Thomas Dailey Aldrich tp Century Magazine. GOLIATH. T WAS RAINING— softly, fnentl; ently — raining as rains on the atternoo of the morning when you hesitate a minute or two at the hat stand, and finally to take your umbre: down town with you. Tt was one of those fine rains—I am not prai ing it Yo the skin inabout four seconds. A sharp twenty-minutes’ walk lay be- tween my office in Court street and my rooms in Huntington avenue. 1 was standing medita- tively in the dcorway of the former establish- ment onthe lookont for a hack or a herdic. An unusual number of these vebicles were hurrying in all directions, but as each sp- roached within the arc of my observation the face of some fortunate occnpant was visible it decide ni Presently a coupe leisurely turned t asifinsearch of a fare. and though he apparently took no notice of my gesture, the coupe slowed up and stopped, or nearly stopped, at the curbstone directly” in front of me. dashed across the narrow side walk, pulled open the door and stepped into the wekicla As I did so some one else on the opposite side performed the same evolution, and the two of us stood for an instant with the crowns of our hats glued together. Then we seated ourselves simaltaneously, each by this token claiming the priority of possession, . ‘I beg your pardon, sir,” I said, “but this is my carriage.” T beg your pardon, sir,” was the equally frigid reply; ‘‘the carriage is mine.” “I bailed the man from that doorway,” I said, with firmness, “i led him from the crossing.” jut I signaled him tiret.” My companion disdained to respond to that statement, but rettled himself back on the cushions as if he had resolved to spend the rest of his life there. “We will leave it to the driver,” I said. The subject of this colloquy now twisted bis body round on the dripping box and shouted: “Where to, gentlemen? I lowered the plate glas# and addressed him “There's a mistake here. This gentleman and Thoth claim the coupe. Which of us first called you?” But the driver “couldn't tell t’ other from which,” as he expressed it. Hav- ing two fares iuside, he of course had no wild desire to pronounce a decision that would nec- essarily cancel one of them. The situation had reached this awkward phase when the intruder leaned forward and inquired, with a total change in his intonation: ‘Are you not Mr. David Willit “That is my na: “Lam Edwin Wateor other slightly at college.” All along there had been something familiar to me in the man’s face, but I had attributed it to the fact that I hated him enough at first sight to have known him intimately for ten years, Of course, after this, there was no fur- ther dispute about the carr Mr. Watson wanted to go to the Provideuce station, which was directly on the way to Nuntington avenue. ‘The affair arranged itself. We fell into pleas- mt chat concerning the old Harvard d and were surprised when the coupe drew up in front of the red brick clock tower of the sta- tion. ‘The acquaintance, thus renewed by chance. continued. Though we had resided” six years in the same city, and had not met before, we were now continually meeting—at the club, the down-town restaurant whore we hunched, at various houses where we visited in common. Mr. Watson was in the banking business. he had been married one or two years, and was living out of town, in what he called “‘a little box, on the slope of Biuo Hill, He had once or twice invited me to run out to dine and spend the night with him, but some engagement or other disability had interfered. One evening, how- ever, as we were playing billiards at the St. Bo- tolph I accepted his invitation for a certain Tuesday. Watson, who was having a vacation at the time, was not to accompany me from town, but was to mect me with his pony cart at Green Lodge, a small flag station on the Prov dence railway, two or three miles from “The Briers,” the name of his place. “I shall be proud to show vou my wife,” be said, “and the baby—and Goliath. “Goliath?” “That's the dog,” answered Watson, with laugh. “You and Goliath ought to meet David and Goliath!” If Watson had mentioned the dog earlier in the conversation I might have shied at his hospitality. I may as well at once confess that I do not like dogs, and am afraid of them. Of some things Iam ‘not afraid; there have been occasions when my courage was not to be doubted—for example, the night I secured the burglar in my dining room, and held him until the police came, and notably the day I had an interview with a young bull in the middle of a pasture, where there was not so much asa bur- dock leaf to fly to; with my red silk pocket handkerchief 1 deployed him as coolly as if I had been a professional matador. I state these unadorned facts in no vainglorious mood. If that burglar had been a collie, or that bulla bull terrier, I should have collapsed on the spot. No man can be expected to be a hero in all directions. Doubtless Achilles himself had his secret little cowardice. if truth were known. That acknowledged vulnerable heel of his was, perhaps, not his only weak point. While I am thus covertiy drawing a comparison between myself and Achilles, I'will say that that samo extreme sensitiveness of heel is also unhappily mine, for nothing so sends a chill into it and thence along my vertebrie as to have a strange dog come up sniffing behind me. Some in- scrutable instinct has advised all strange dogs of my antipathy and pusillanimity. ‘The little dogs and all, Tray, Blanch@and Sweetheart, seer they bark at ma They sally forth from picturesque verandas and unsuspected hidings to show their teeth asI goby. In a spot where there is no dog one will germinate if he happens to find out that Iam to pass that way. Sometimes they follow me for miles, Strange doge that wag their tails at other persons growl at me from over fences and across vacant lote and at street corners. So you keep a dog?” I remarked carelessly, as I dropped the spot ball into a pocke “Yer corner y 1 know what « country place is with a dog; it’s a place I should prefer to avoid.” But as I had accepted the invitation, and as Watson was to pick me up at Green Lodge station, and, presumably, see me safely into the home, I said no more, Living as he did on a lonely road, and likely at any hour of the night to have « burglar or two drop in on him, it was proper that Watson should have a dog’ on the grounds. In any event he would have done so, for he had always had a manincal passion for the canine race. I remember his keeping at Cambridge a bull- up that was the terror of the neighborhood. Head bis rooms outside the college yard. in order that he might reside with this fiend. A good mastiff or a good collie—if there are any good collies and good mastiffs—is perhaps a necessity to e country houses; but what is the use of allowing him to lie around looso on the landscape, as is generally done? He ought to be chained up until midnight. He should be taught to distinguish between a burg- lar and an inoffensive person passing along the highway with no intention of taking anything but the air, Men with ataste for dogs owe it to society not to cultivate dogs that have an in- discriminate taste for men, ‘The Tuesday on which I was to pass the night with Watson was a day simply packed with evil omens. The feathered cream at breakfast struck the key note of the day's irritations. Everything went at cross purposes in the office, and at the last moment a telegram imperatively demanding an answer nearly caused me to miss that 6 o'clock train—the ooly train that stopped at Green ‘There were two or three thousand other trains which did not stop there. Iwas in no frame of mind for rural pleasures when I finally seated myself in the “6 < accommodation” with my gripsack beside me. ‘The run from town to Green Lodge is about twenty-five minutes, and the last stoppage be- fore reaching that station is at Readville. We possibly half way between these two et you | . which wet you | ran x straight. } | | through the blurred ginss of the closed window. | I bailed the driver, | | —*- - three sides with am a'nied deal boards backed | nearly to pieces by tramps. In autumn and Sinter the wind here, sweeping pouset marshes, must be cruel. That probably why the tramps have destroved their only decent shelter between Readville and Ca! ton. On this evening inearly June, as I stepped upon the platform, the air was merely « ripple persist- | and a murmur among the maples and. willow Tlooked rround for Watson and the pony | cart. What had occurred was obvior Me bad waited an hour for me and then driven home with the conviction that the trai must have passed before he got there and that I, for som Teason, had failed to come on gravel car was an episode of have known nothing miles was not a: at that right ans itself in an arb the tree tops rose the serrated line Hilla, now touched with the twiligh est amethyst the somewhere “What L flected, dave whe: ; fellow men, and co; existence Just then my ear caught the s: wheel (grating on an 1 ante withered + in a rickety open wagon slowly pproaching the ward tho hills I stopped the man and ¢ He was will of th ay Wats ght to have do t. beside him with Beyond giving vent to a sm over from the previous wi ade no sign of life seemed to be ina sai tion. I was as hittle disposed to talk. Tt was a balmy evening, the air was charged with sweet wood sce: 1 here star half opened an 1 on the pe After the frets of the day it was soothing thus | to be drawn at asnail’s pace throngt grance and stillness of that fe | with the night weaving and unweaving its mys: | teries of light and shade on either side. Not | or two left 4 man K. Me i anima- then the twitter of an oriole in some pen- t nest overbead add as it were, to the Iwas yielding myself up wholly to the glamor of the timo and place, when aw denly I thought of Goliath. At that mom Goliath was probably prowling about Watson « front yard seeking whom he might devour, and 1 was that predestined nourishment. new what sort of watch dog Watson would be likely to kee] There was a tough streak in Watson himself, akind of thoroughbred ob- stinacy—the way he had held on to that coupe months before illustrated it. An animal with «tenacious grip. and on the verge of hydro- phobia, was what would natur itecif to his liking. ile had but maybe he had half a dozen other drag guard his hillside b perides. int | Wateon meeting me at the station, and uow, when I was no longer expected, 1 was forced to | invade his promises in the darkness of the | night. and run the risk of being torn limb fi limb before J could make myself known to the amily. I recalled Watson's imane remar! You and Goliath ought to meet—David and Goliath!” It now struck me as a most un-| seemly and heartless pleasantry. The reflections were not | heighten my enjoyment of the beauties of na- | The gathering darkness, with its few id stars, which a moment before had al, began to fill me with » prehension. In the daylight one has resour Dat what on earth was going to to the | dark with Goliath and, likely enough, a coupie of bloodhounds at my throat? I wished my- | self safely back among the crowded streets and electric lights of the city. In a few minutes more I was to be left alone and defenseless on a dismal highway. When we reached the junction of the Green Lodge road and the turnpike I felt that I was parting from the only friend I had in the world. The man had not spoken two words during the | drive, and now rather gruffly refused my prof- | fered half dollar; but I would have gone home with him if he hadfasked me. I hinted that it | would be much to his pecuniary advantage if | he were willing te go #o far out of his course us the doorstep of Mr. Watson's house, but either because wealth had no charms for him, or because he had failed to understand my proposition, he made no answer, and, giving his mare a slap with the ends of the reins, rat- tied off into space. On turning into the main road I left behind meacluster of twinkling lights emitted from some dozen or twenty little cottages, which, as Dhavo since been told, constitute the village of pog. It was tly alive with d Theard them going of one after snother, like string of Chinese crackers, as the ancient farmer with his creaking axle. on through the village. I was not reluctant to leave so alert a neighborhood, whatever destiny awaited me beyond. Fifteen or twenty minutes later I stood in front of what I knew ataglance to be “The Briers,” for Watson had described it to me. The three sharp gables of his tion had not quite melted into the blackness which was rapidly absorbing every object; and there, too, but indistinct, were the twin stone gateposts with the cheerful Grecian vases on top, like the entrance to a cemetery. I cautiously approached the paling and looked over into the inclosure. It was gloomy with shubbery.dwarf sprucesand Norway pines, and necded nothing but afew obelisks and lacrymal urns to complete the illusion. In the center of the space rose « circular mound of sevoral yards in diameter, piled with rocks, on which probably were mosses and nasturtiums. It was too dark to distinguish anything clearly: even the white gravel walk encircling the mound left one in doubt. The house stood well back on a slight elevation, with two or three steps leading down from the | piazze to this walk. Here and there a strong light illummed a Inttice window. I particu- | larly noticed one on the ground floor, in an ell of the building. a wide window with diamond- shaped panes—the dining room. The curtains were looped back, and Icould see the prett: housemaid in her cap coming and going. Sb was removing the dinner things; she must have long ago taken away my unused plate. The contrast between a brilliantly lighted, luxurious interior and the bleak night outside is a contrast that never appeals to me in vain. Iseldom have any sympathy for the outcast | in sentimental fiction until the inevitable m0- ment when the author plants her against the area railing under the windows of the paternal | mansion. Tlike to have this happen on an in- | clement Christmas or Thanksgiving evo—and it always docs, But even on a pleasant evening in early June | it is not agreeable to find one's self excluded from the family circle, especially when one has | traveled fifteen miles to get there. I regarded the inviting facade of Watson's villa, and then Tcontempiated the somber and unexplered tract of land which I must nesda traverse in order to reach the doorstep. How still it was! | The very stillness had a sort of menace in it. | My imagination peopled those black interstices | under the trees with ‘“gorgons and hydras and | calculated to | | j history of the | new pastor very much, either. There himeras dire, , hoa an of latent nbc va mie ac ommed bang as Twas not surpricet the same, at wate wat persiveed. oll eraveled lute, as if min escape, but I Thad forg as ha that I show which passed ii It in easily 1 made o reflection at :1 tne time my brisk trot h > a run and | wae spinning arcie at the rate of tom miles an hour, with the dog at my here New py the piazza, and now past the gat wently I conned to know which was the gate and which the piazza, | believe that f shouted *Warea once or twice, no doubt at the wrong place, but I do not femember At all ev ke myerlt heard Me brain w that at intervale I could not for the ® f me tell whether & was chasing the dag or the dog was chest me. Now I almost felt his none at my beel, a now Teeetued upon the point of trampling him ander foot My swift rotary movement the dinner which I had not hind sort of vertigo. It w par instinet that prevented me from firing off at @ tangent and plor the shrubbery. Strange lights be in oue of those shapeless black aching im my path. I antomatically kicked #t ito the outer dark It was only my derby het, which had fa on one of the previous trips. have « mind. T pended all natural nctior lobe I was enabled to apeculate « duration of my present error, an ironical smile crept to my lips as reflected that I might perbaps keep this thing p until sunrise, unless a midnight meal w one of the dog's regular Sabie. A prolonged ngry snarl now and then @imonished we Thad his patience was about exhmus Thad accomplished the circuit of the moun@ the twenticth time at door of te for the tenth pom ened with a jerk and Watson, closely email, stepped oad fused state of mp my brain hed ene. but with the other be pproteat areer apite of my villa was followed by the pretty b upon the piazza. He held in biv hand a @ man student lamp, which = b ace of dropping as the light fell pon my ev tevance. “Good heavens! Wilhs: did you tumbi: “Six o'clock train —old man 1 Suddenly the pretty housemaid descended the steps and picked ap from the re @ little panting, tremulous wad of sumethiag — not more than two handfuls at most — whichele folded tenderly to her bosom. at's that?” T asked. “That's Goliath,” said Wateon coe Green Loui Outdoor Cort Front of skirt of two wide box pleats ts at bottom with suble. Skirt of mirror cloth. outlined with fur. Cape of beige clothemé broidered in gold and brown. see One Too Dry, the Other Too Wet. From the Toronto Mail Warden—“'So vou got rid of your paster?” Elder—‘Yes; be was a good man, but be wad too dry in his preaching always giving a @ Dut we don't like our jews. “What is the inatter with bim “Well, he's too wet preaches with tears tm his voice nearly all the time: emotion of the. purest kind. but too much of it “I see; the old pastor was too bistorical an@ the new one as too hysterical.