Evening Star Newspaper, June 24, 1893, Page 16

16 SUMMER DAY FANCIES! «<ctvsee A Great Deal of Grace and Pretti- ness in Dress. GOWNS FOR WARM WEATHER. Ee ‘The Girl With the Distracting Hair and Some Suggestions About the Care of the Hair—Old Fashions Coming Back—The Use of Silks and Other Fabrics. Correspondence of the Evening Star. New York, June 23, 1898. UMMER HAS DE- The initial pi€ture shows a dainty toilet for July and August. ‘The material used in the original is green woolen suiting, trimmed with red and green changeable vel- vet and ecru guipure lace. The circular bell skirt is stiffened with haircloth almost half = its length and is gar- nished with five bias folds of velvet of grad- uated widths. The round waist has a yoke of shot silk covered with lace and the remainder of the bodice is adorned with four rows of vel- Yet and a velvet belt around the waist. The sleeves have a large puff to the elbow, with a gathered frill and a long tight cuff covered ‘with lace; the tops are trimmed with velvet ep- aulettes, Surely, nothing that summer brings to view could be prettier than a young girl garbed like ‘the one in the second drawing. Copy it in fashion you choose. In the gown from whiel the sketch was made the stuff is terra cotta with tiny yellow dots, trimmed with white lace and Datiste. The bias seams of the skirt are strength ened by a silk ribbon to prevent sagging. Ths Dlouse waist fastens at the side, but the lining in the center; at the waist in front and back ‘the fullness is laid in pleats. Around the waist A SUMMER orn a belt of folded suiting and the bottom the skirt is also trimmed with a gathered raffle of the same. The neck of the waist is eut low infront only. The broad sailor collar is of white batiste in this instance, but any other shade of crepe. batiste or silk may be used: it is edged with wide Ince and the deep cuff is made in the same manner. The sleeves are ieg-o"-mutton. ‘The most distracting girl the summer let loose is the girl whose hair curls. She is the despair of all the other girls. No matter how Young she is, she seems to have the degree of impishness that always goes with naturally curly hair. It is enough to drive a girl who has to curl her hair crazy to see a a school girl tripping about on foggy day with kinks all over her head, look- ing as kinks can only make one look. ‘She is ‘when she goes in bathing. nearer your own age you might get back but being not even out of rebool yet you have to bear it and say nothing. You have to the men say, “Jove! what a pretty head of bair that little Smith giri has,” and not be eure that that little Smith girl doesn't know perfectly well that they are saying it. Goodness deliver the belle of four serzons from a little Smith girL You cannot protect yourself against her. She appears in the afternoon in a simple, childish little dress, with a bangle or s0 on wrist for ornament, a wide lace collar up about her throat, her hair a wilderness of sunny kinkles, with no hat on, but holding her ma’s Parasol over her bend, and. so sure ag Charlie there with you, she sits down with her back to vou quite away off and thinks. As ifs girl of her age ever thinks! She looks so innocent it is useless to attempt to make Charlie see that she is doing it just to make you move. Just same it isn teafe to be there. These little Smith girls never sit and think long without thinking up some aggravation. Better give up, take Charlie to a safe distance and leave her to think, shine her hair in the sun and look young and school girly. THE GIRL WHOSE HAIR CURLS. ‘There is just one way to wash the hair and Ihave it soft, as well as dry. You wantit to be fluffy, no matter what the fashion says about glossy locks, and yet it must not be brashy and Fough. Brashy and rough it is within a day or so of a wash with ammonia, borax, soda or any of the other things recommended to make it @ry and fluffy. To obviate this you must’ rub ‘Vaseline well into the scalp. Rub the hair with it, too. Have the hair really wet with the Petroleum oil, Do this if possible a half hour fore you are ready to wash the hair. Roll = apojnted locks up out of the way. You find they do not look so bad. ‘Ihe curl uot been interfered with, only the shade d character of the hair is altered, and a wn-baired girl has a good chance to tee how abe will look wheu her hair gets a lot darker, as time will make it. Wash the hair with water as hot as you can stand and use borax or | ammonia, or both, and a good strong -oapsuds Desides. “Use a great many waters, and rinse in two or three hot waters softened with borax. use cold water. The rinsing must not be- gin until the soup has made two or three gen- erous lathers, and must not end till your neck 4s almost broken, and you are sure not a parti- ele of the vaseline or soap can possibly remain. Bub the hair well with a soft bath towel till it is , if possible, in the wind and sun. If you do wash and rinse every bit of vaseline out the result will be that the hair will feel to the touch like that of a very young child's. It 4s also soft and fluffy, and seems to have the trick of keeping the ‘curl aud staying clean. Doa’t be discouraged if the first time your hair dries stringy. This way of washing takes a little knack. Stand greasy hair for a dav or two, then wash again, omitting the vaseline. ‘The day or so of grease will have done your Bair no harm. All this may be a little bother, bat it ie worth while, and it does seem as if ‘ammonia, dye or anything couldn't really so treated. It will stay soft and thick. and it grows so fast that you can cut ir bangs in as many different styles as you if i been de- in house A JULY Tomer. better for it, fits closely at the waist and hips, and spreads at once from the hips smoothly outward, being about five yards and a half around the lower edge. The monotony of this wide sweep at the foot unrelieved by anything like regular folds is broken by an old-fashioned device of running a narrow pleating of the silk about the foot, turning the direction of the ruffle up about every foot and ending it with a bow of ribbon. The charm of this is just in its quaint suggestion of old-time style. ‘The bodice to this sort of skirt is strictly modern, made with surplice fronts and big puffed sleeves with an epaulette of velvet or ‘atin to match the bows used on the skirt. Handsome pointed crochet lace may be added over these epaulettes. You cannot have too much elaboration about the shoulders, you know, and if you have a piece of luce that zon hate to cut into two short lengths, let one piece be long enough to come down the side of the bodice, turning it so the points go inward when it leaves the shoulder. This gown is pretty in shot silk, the ground a delicate apple green and the shot a dull red, the whole thing being changeable besides. Use dull red or de green velvet. The parasol has a Dresden han with two balls attached. one of dull red, the other of green. The hat should bea small, light affair of twisted dull green straw. ‘The old, aimless, foolish-looking, wall-paper- and-dado style of ornamenting skirts is coming back. The looping and festooning that reminds one of the ceilmg border that used to go on old-time wall paper is again on our dresses. It is. apparently. the only change possible in th of e the skirts themselves may not be sacrificed to a craze for elaborate decoration, and the pretty fullness of folds be taken from them to afford the modistea smooth and funnel-like surface upon which to do her festooning. The only | excuse for this sort of aimless trimming is the display of very fine lace, but at best it makes one look sadly hke curtains and furniture, and the lines of the figure, which ought to have some consideration in the administering of drapery, are more and more offended. to have a mind of your own. girls: keep the fashion to its present really charming moderation. ATTIRED FOR MIDSUIIMER, The fifth and final toilet in this set is wholly suggestive of summer and is made of a thin white woolen suiting over a foundation dress of light green silk. The bell skirt has an over- skirt, which is drawn through a green velvet belt and hangs down over it in the manner in- dicated in the illustration. The round waist is tight-fitting and cut V shape at the neck: the ning is edged with a foided strip of white net and a bertha of figured net. sleeves are leg-o"-mutton. 2 ae ae Points on Turkey Katsing. From the New Westminster Columbian. A reporter recently visited the turkey ranch of A. Ferguson, at Liverpool. The first object that appeared strange was an old turkey gob- bier strutting about alone. There were no hen turkeys in sight, and the them. Mr. Ferguson replied that he bad lots of females, but they were away setting. “Let us go and see them,” we suggested. “By all means.” replied Mr. Ferguson, “if yon will show me where they are.” “Do you mean to say you don't know where the turkeys are setting?” asked the visitor, in astonishment. “I know they are somewhere in the back part of the swamp,” replied Mr. Ferguson, “but I wouldn't be able to raise a bird if I visited their breeding grounds. Turkeys prefer to breed in the same localities as sand hill cranes. I have reared young turkeys that had to swim from the place they were hatched at. The old hen never moves after the chicks are hatched for four days, and there 1s not a particle of egg shell left when the old one starts off. I have made a study of turkeys and their habits, and what I say 18 correct. North America is the natural home of the turkey. If left to them- selves the males and females the summer months. It culiar fact that after the beginning of July the gobbler can’t gobble any more until he has molted and got a brand new suit of clothes. The hens have deserted the gobbler already, but will return to him in the autumn, bringing back their off- spring. Then I will know how many turkeys I will have. The great mistake people make is in trying to rear turkeys. They kill them by feeding. Make. note of this: Fed chicks die of indigestion. Leave them alone and they will grow up strong.” —oo——__— A Queer Spot in Paris. From the Chicazo Herald. At the entrance to the Avenue du Bois, on the left, is what is called the Cercles des Panes, translated, means “The Hardup People’s Club.” ‘This gathering is held under the magnificent verdant folinge of four rows of chestnuts, which were recently in all the glory of full bloom. It is supposed to be fre- quented by persons who cannot afford a car- riage to drive to the wood and yet who want to see and, above all. to be seen. ‘The ac- commodations consist of arm and other chairs, which are paid for at the rate of two ‘and four cents a sitting, and the pleberan bench, which costs nothing. Marriageable young ladies, flanked by a superb chaperon— generally the mamma or an aunt—muster there in forge on the keen lookout fora lord and master. Men also frequent the spot. ‘They are of all ages, from the pert, downy-lipped adolescent, fresh from college, to the made-up roue. Every one there is well dressed and im- pecunious, and the one sex exerts ail its efforts to deceive’ the other. Men are looking out for ladies, maids or widows with a dot, and ladies are in search of husbands. Cramped. World's Fair “Yes,” remarked the Chicagoan, we have, in- deed, had a wonderful growth, and are keeping it up; but, unfortunately, ut no distant day, it must have an end.” “How so?” “The state lines. See?” — Economy. From Truth. Brown—*‘Going to housekeeping, eh?” Jones—“*Yep.” wfully expensive.” ‘on't be for us. Gotng to use my temper for a furnace aud her feet for a THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C, SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1893—EFIGHTEEN PAGES. ‘itor inquired about | separate during | MAJORS MATCHBOX WRITTEN ESPECIALLY FOR THE EVENING STAR BY PERCY FITZGERALD, M. A. + - ({Copyright. } NCE ON A TIME,” there lived in one of the new Brobdignagian mansions, rather bigh up though, one Major Blenkinsop. He was rather portly, though not “fat and scant of breath,” but comfort- comfortable, too, in many ways. A’ rel- ative had left him nigh a thousand a year; he was often asked to country houses, and his life was laid in pleasant places. Above all, he took care of himself. Being rather a shy man_he had received some rather disagreeable lessons, and had a wholesome terror of all young Iadies, with or without money; much as & terrier who has been well scratched about his eyes by acat will carefully take along circuit when he passes the residence of his encmy. This is w rather ungallans simile, but it ex- presses faithfully Major Blenkinsop’s state of feeling. He was also very fond of staying at the va- rious hotels—by preference at the more or less “Grand”—that are found at watering places, Here he had abundant comfort, was treated with respect and met pleasant company. At one time we find him at a new watering place, Washerton-on-Sea, three miles from a newly opened station, and where there was, of course, the usnal Grand Hotel. which was yet modest enough inall save its name. So pleasant did he find it = he stayed fo —_ ix weeks, Among the guests was a middle-aged person, Lady Partridge, and her Lucy, by whom he sat regularly every day. and found very “‘com- fortable,”” ble peo} " plaining cf the colds, draughts. though the weather was sultry. But they were not at all forward people; they had no designs of any kind on any one. Lucy was one of those agreeable girls you occasionally meet, natural, niet and generally amiable and unaffected. e major felt most comfortable with them, and unrestrained, too. Alas! in spite of the lessons he had received and of the warnings aged bachelor began to feel symptoms of the old complaint. In vain he struggled, laughed at himself, warned himself—it would not do. Lucy Partridge was, to a certain extent, as he found out, an heiress, being entitled to some £30,000, which, as he thought, was not bad, not at all bad. Lucy was so good-natured that he began to fancy that he was gradually making way. Lady Partridge unmistakably favored “And why not?” he often asked himself. “Why not?” indeed; though cne might rather ask “Why?” And so the days went by very pleasantly at the Grand Hotel, Washerton-on- Sea. The sixth week had been nearly filled up when one evening, as he was coming down to dinner, he came full on Lucy Partridge, who was engaged in earnest and most mysterious converse in a corner of the landing with a Young man who was decidedly good looking. ‘They bad a guilty look as he came upon them. The youth fitted away as he loomed in sight, d, stravge to say, at the dinner he saw the young man seated afar off. Nor did he come near Lady Partridge or her niece during the whole evening. This seemed odd and even mysterious. Next morning he set out on his usual “con- stitutionai” walk after his breakfast. Tt was a pleasant and bracing day, and the whole country round wes whitened ‘with the snow. In view to his constitutional smoke, he took out his cigar case and, with anticipatory enjoyment, selected a cigar, while he put h hand in his pocket seeking his matches. Stupid! He had forgotten them, which put him ina very bad humor. No matter. He would ask at some house, or he would make straight for the ._ It is a peculiarity with the passion of joking that you can go a long time without it, spirit of abstinence; bat to have worked oneself up to the anticipated feast, only to find it abruptly snatched away, is tantalizing indeed. But suddenly reliet came, He eaw approacl ing him one of those easy going, slouching fel- lows, who are encountered on country roads, and are generally and unflatteringly described astramps. He was about sixty years old, with a shrewd, even cunning look. He began with the usual salutation. “Bitter. cold day, governor, for a poor fellow as ‘as ‘ad no breakfast, and been walkin’ through the snow since 5 o'clock. Give a poor feller something.” Now, the major, besides not relishing being addressed familiarly ax ‘guv'nor™ (and what dces governor mean? Governor of whom? or of what? Not surely of the too familiar speaker). hada holy or unholy horror of the fraternity. But, then, his cigar? He would be civil. “Have you got any matches?” he asked abruptly. The tramp felt his pockets and grinned. “Here y'ar, guv'nor.” he said. producing halfa dozen. “I'm yer man.” Your man! He isn't. How is he, or your man? “Don’t mind me. out to oblige a gent.”” Maj. Blenkinsop engerly took the matches, and putting his hand in his waistcoat pocket racted a small silver coin, the smallest that he had, which he placed in the tramp's kand. He then resumed his march. He did not look back, or he would have seen | the disgusted, contemptuous look of the donor of the matches. be, Tcan go with: * ‘hruppence! Ain’t that mean, teetotally mean! No matter. I only wish I was by when he goes to light his pipe. Ho, ho!” and be “larfed,” as be called it. Maj. Bienkiusop, still sad, walked on, and resently came in sight of a railway station—a little, low, wooden sort of shanty. He would have stopped to light his cigar, only he found the wind too cutting. “I will light it,” he said, solemnly and aloud, “tin the shelter of the sta- i That will do very well It wou'd or ought to have done vers well. but there's many a slip between the match and the box. At his time of life Maj. Blenkinsop had got in the habit of making “everything do very well.” He took good care to be always comfortable and not tobe put out or inconvenienced in any tran-action that he had to do with. Ashe drew near he was astonished to see a man at the door of the station beckoning to him vioiently. Presently he heard him cr} | along, quick. Do harry up; look shar; your stumps!” Stir his stumps! His stumps! Rude, rather, yet he fancied that he recognized the figure. It seemed like the young man who had arrived at the hotel the night before. “Well, you do tnke your timo,” said the Didn't you see me beckoning?” “Yes,” said the major stiffly, “what do you mean?" And supposing that I did?” “Ob, come in; come in,and don’t talk.” And taking him unceremoniously by the arm the young man pushed him into the little station. To his astonishment Major Blenkinsop actually saw before him Lady Purtridge, who was seated in a rude chair before a bare grate, and looking very pinched and miserable; and beside her the too attractive Lucy. They both greeted him ly and eagerly. Major Blenkinsop,” cried the lady, “you come to save my life—just in time!” iy dear madam,” he said, “how fortunate I would do anything for you, and as for saving your life—" “Remember, Lady Partridge, dthe young fellow, thrusting uimself before him, “remem- ber it’ was I whogot him. I saw him and brought him here. But don’t let us waste time. Where is it?” And most unceremoniously he began feeling Major Blenkinsop’s garments’ pockets. “Don’t do that, sir,” suid the other, some- what irritated. fe me alone. What is the matter with yo “Where are they? Produce them, and don’t . dear major,” crooned Lady Partridge, don't talk. Don'tyou see Lam perishing with cold? shall die!” “Bat, my dear madam,” said the bewildered what is it that vou want?” you see?” said Miss Lucy, impatiently, “We are dying for a match.” “Oh.a match,” said he. “By the way, I could tell a curious story about that. was coming along the road this morni “My dear, good major, do not tal Lady Partridge, “but light the fire the fact is I left my matches at from the party. “Ab!” said the young il ut, if you would let me finish, major, politely; the road who supplied me with some, they are. So now we can light your fire you, my dear Lady Partridge,” and with an air of satisfaction Major Blenkinsop produced his little sheaf of matches. “Now take my arm, and let me place you in this chair, so that you can have the full benefit of the cheerful blaze.” Le he Indy over, the major procecded | t> strike Lis matches one after the other. Bat, able looking. He was_ which he gave himself so solemnly, our middle- it’ alas, no light came! The young man. who was Satiuisg snay aereonee ten tiently, then him, made ir attempts “Ob, I see. Light-on-the-box matches, of course. Well, you are stupid.” spilteh confused, the major had to acknowledge e “It was that miserable tramp,” he cried; ‘‘he did it on purpose, I believe.” “I did not expect this from you,” groaned Lady Partridge. “Oh, take me out of this; let i ehall die of it all I And the poor lady, taking her niece's arm, tottered away into the adjoining apartment, followed by the two gentlemen who were ‘“in- cumbering her’ with their help. ‘This young man, Charles Selby by name, was in one of the government offices, having about £708 year to live upon. As will have been guessed, he was violently attached to Miss Lucy, and being as much, secretly, favored by the young lady as he ‘was discouraged by her aunt, he was not inclined to abate his pre- tensions. In truth, it was his appearance at the hotel that prompted Lady Partridge’s depart- ure, who, having discovered his arrival in the morning. hurriedly packed up her things, paid her bill and depart , in spite of all assurance that she wor never catch the train. They arrived at the station a few minutes after its departure. In fact, they had the mortification of seeing it flying ‘along over their beads as they passed under an arch. But though there was no train for two hours Lady Partridge was determined not to return to the hotel and sent the fly away. The porters had gone to their breakfast, so they found the station a solitude. Our fon ip who was now ina sort of disgrace, came forth from the room ruefuilv enough, un- ceriain whether to go away or to atay where he was. But he would not yield to his forward and even impudent rival. ‘As he was looking from the window across the dismal, snow-clad country he said to himself: “Poor Lady Partridge. Really she will get ill if this goes on. I do wish I had a match.” Suddenly he heard a rough voice behind him. “Wish you had a match, guv'nor. Well, didn’t I gay yeall I ‘ad?” “Oh, it’s you, is it?” said the other, and still revolting against the too familiar title. ‘And what did you mean, fellow, by passing off those things on me that won't light? It was a swindle!” “And what did you want more for your shabby thruppenny? Who are you talking to with yer swindle?” ” but you know you ought to have given me the box,” said the major, more mildly. “And so would if you had known how to treat me asa gemman. But you don't, ‘cos yer not one yerself.”” “But ‘have you got it?” said the other, eagerly. “Of course I have, Anything agin my having “No, no; not at all. But as vou have it give it to me now, at once, and here's a shilling for you, “Well, come now, yer improving.” said the tramp, softening. “That's better. But it ain't enough.” ‘The major thought what a surprise it would be to have the fire lit and blazing, then go in, and lead in Lady Patrridge in triumph. It would extinguish his rival forever! “Come,” he said, “here's 2 shillings. hand over the box. “‘Halloo, halloo!” said the provoking tramp, putting his box back into his pocket. “Let us see about all this, Yer mighty eager about an old box!” “Now, now, my good, worthy fellow, don’t delay; here's the money. 't yer worthy, good feller at al won't bo. No, soft sawder won't do it, tell you.” “I assure you there's a poor lady in there wlio will assuredly die if youdon't give me that box.” ‘Tho tramp laughed loudly, “Come, old stingy, none of ver jokes. Dying? Go and ‘dye yer hair; I tell yer, it wants it But put down shillings and you shall have my box. There!’ “Oh, that’s imposition. I'll do nothing of the kind.”” At this moment another actor appeared on the scene. “Don't; don’t let him have it. Here, I'll give you the ten shillings for your box, and here they are.” ‘The tramp stared at the young man in blank astonishment, fA “Why, yer all mad! Ten bob for an old 0x: ‘I insist on having it,” said the major; mine. I spoke first. terfere wit) “Now ‘it's f I beg of you not to in- me. “Absurd! Ridiculous! the young man. "Ere, ‘ere,” Contemptible!” said ied the major. the tramp, following him round, “who are you # pooh-poobing? Is it me’ “Oh, let him alone,” said Charles. “His age protects him, and his long yearr— ufferable tramp, who seemed to «1 a thorough dislike to the major, burst into a roar. “That's good! Long ears! Y. I see ‘em. Yes, he has ‘em. They're long enough. Ho, ho! And I feel ‘em.”” Poor Maj. Blenkinsop, much irritated, turned on the young m: “It's you that are encouraging this low fel- low. But your motive is plain, sir. I under- stand; you're all spite and jealous; he other answered him sharply. “At any rate, I can't make myself ridiculous, as you do—running after young ladies, and at your time of life Here the impudent tramp broke in again, “What! He arter the girls; an old chap like that! Why, he ought to be shown ata fair, he ought! Ho, ho!” “You see, even this simple, honest creature,” said the voung nan, in a gibing way, ‘sees the ridicule."” “sir,” said the major, “you are imperti- nent.”” “Sir,” said Charies, approaching him, “what did you say about impertinent? Will you re- peat that?” “Good, good!” said the tramp. rubbing his hands in much enjoyment. ‘Come outside, gents, strip and do the thing all regular. I'll see fair.” “Oh, notsense, id the irritated major. walking about, “I must insist on having my box that I bought. |. see here,” said the tramp, good-humor- edly, “‘there’s only one way to ‘commodate both you gentlemen and yer claims, and that is this here—put the box up :h’ auction, Let the highest bidder have it. I can't say fairer than that—come now!” ‘And jumping on a chair our tramp flourished his box in the air and invited bids in an expe- rienced style. “You're quite right,” cried the young man, “T'll give you a sovereign to begin with.” “A quid. Going: going! Now, you, Stingy.” Mr. Blenkinsop turned . “Very well, as you li Til knock it down to this gent. Fust and only biddin. One quid!—one quid! No more? Going—going— no more than a quid? Last time.” Suddenly a faint voice was heard from within: “Major! Major! Major Blenkinsop! Ob, come to me quick!” “Yes, my dear madam,” answered Charles, “I'm coming.” “You, sir! You are not wanted! my dear madam.” “Yes, here I um,” said Charles, And ‘the two gentlemen rushed out of the room, tumbling against each other, eager to be first, and leaving the astonished tramp behind. ‘Well, of all the goes I ever ——" he said, this is the to” queer starts. That must be the dyin’ woman inside that was calling out. A sovere’gn for an old mutch box! They're all mad—or drunk, more likely. Eb, but Ilet ‘em go without payin’ me! Here, vou young fellow, come back! Where's my quid? “But what does ther want with my box? Maybe it’s a magic ‘un, like the old bloke that used toruban oldlamp when he wanted to raise the sperits. Wish I could raise some sperits. Iwants'embadly. Wonder ifIrubbed it hard—halloo, .here’s more of ‘em! Why, there isa sperit, anda very pooty one. How d'ye do, miss? ow this was addressed to Mise Lucy, who, with her most winning manner, now stole up to the tramp. “Oh, Ib We Here Iam, ir!” she cried, “I want you to— save us! “Well, miss, I likes savin’ young ladies, ‘specially when they're pooty. But ‘ow! ‘That's the question. “Oh, the box, that box! You have got it!” “Wot! You're arter the box, too? Talk o’ cock fighting arter this! “Oh, give it to me! Give it to me at once!” But the tramp held it high over his head. “Steady! Steady! ‘Ow much? 's the pint. You must know, miss, th quid bid for it already.” “Do you mean tobacco? A quid! Alas! alas! Ihave none. But how much do you want in money, Mr.—, Mr.—?” taking out her purse. “Mogg, Miss. But I'm always Jemmy with my intimates. Then I'll be intimate, too, and I may call you Jemmy, mayn’t I?’ You'll not refuse, Jemmy, to give me that little box?” Blowed if I ever could stand a pootr face! Well, Pll tell you what, miss. The gents shall make it up handsome between them; but you'll | give me—a—a—something nicer, a—(wiping his mouth )—much nicerer, you understands. And | cash down, too, and you shall have my box.” “Oh, you dreadful person, go away!” “Come, it'sa bargain, eh?” Here the tramp advanced . “You gives me a bus, and T gives yous box. Ho, ho! Come! *Oh, go away, do go away!” And Lucy tried hard to cseape him. “Help! Help!” she cried, now rather alarmed. Suddenly the major en- fou rascal, how dare you!” “Old Thruppenny back again! Always turn- ing up when yer not wanted. Who are you a ing a rascal of? Is it me?” and he ad- vanced on him in a very threatening way. But Miss Lucy interposed. “Oh, you'll only offend him. oo lon't interfere. Pray go; 0 away, away, jor Blenkinsop.” “D'ye hear er Go away. stoopid! Wot bis'neas have you between me and my young *ooman, when she and me is talkin’ private? Blowed if I don’t turn you out myself. Come, ee Stingy.” jut Lucy again in not worth your mre ia “Yer right, my duck o’ diamonds. Idespises him! Fancy a rich bloke like ‘im, miss, doin’ @ pore man with athruppenny bit. Ugh! He tarns me sick, he does.” “Oh, major, can this be true? I'm astonished to hear this of you,” “‘Are ye goin’ hout, or d'ye want to be put henti” Toared the tramp, tucki UP his wrists. “Do, please go,” said Lucy; * I am speaking confidentially to this gentleman.” The major said, as heretired reluctantly: “Well, of all the incomprehensible things I ever heard. Your treatment of me, Miss Part- ridge, is most extraordinary, but I’ have your t's consent and your encouragement, 80 [ shall persevere. I wish some one would come.” When he was gone the tramp took a roar of laughter. “And d'ye tell me that the old bloke is ac- tually makin’ up to yer? Why, he might be yer Great grandfather, my dear!” “How did you find that out, Really, you must be very clever, Mr. Mogg! Yes, it's true. And mamma wants me to marry him.” “Ttell yer, yer shan’t! I won't ‘ave it! “No, no; he's Ah, you'vea fancy man of yer own at this minute, eh? Yes, ver ‘ave, and I knows who he is, too. “Faney man? Who is that?” “Ah, go long—t’other chap—the good-lookin’ young feller. Don’t I see with harf an oye; the ‘old ’ooman backs the oid chap—rich cuve—and- some young chap that ain't got a brass farden, you backs ‘im. I'm right, eh?” added the saga- ‘cious tram, “You are really a most extraordinary person. But what am I to do? You can tell me.” ~ “My dear, I'll tell yer; all mamma wants is couxing; that’s the way to do it. Bless yer, all want this and like it! Why, I tell you e's looking out for a fancy man for her- self at this moment.” “Oh, absurd. Mamma is too old for that!” “<Jist the reason. The older the absurderer.”” “Indeed, I begin to suspect you're right. She was rather disappointed when the myor came to her about me. If wo could only per- suade her—it——” “Leave her to me, my dear,” said tho tramp, confidently; “I'll talk to her; 'T've a way of my own with the sect. Why, bless ye, there was Polly Jacks, a fine red-faced girl, and Sally Jones, who was rather in your way, my dear, a little white and pasty. Lucy did not care for these revelations and interrupted him. “Yes, yes, I know. I'll send her out, and who knows, you are so very clever. Dear Mr. ‘Mogg, you will do your best.” Mr.’ Mogg kissed his hand after her, “Leave it to me, my pooty! I'll’ deal with the old lady: blowed if I don’t think that young ‘ooman herself has taken a liking to me, “Hillo, who's this now?” In a moment or two the door was opened softly and Lady Partridge, almost biue with cold. tottered in, “Oh, sir, you are the kind gentleman my niece told me of—-Mr. Mogg, isn’t it?” “Quite right, mum. Let me interdoose my- self—Mr. James Mogg. And you're the lady wot's dying inside!” “Lum, indeed, dying. Ah, I see you see that! Oh, Mr. Mogg, am a wretched woman. But where's Major Blenkinsop? Even he has de- serted me!” “No, no, mum! Cheer up, mum, we'll cure you, He'll come back, mum. Ain’the # nice interesting man? Bless yer, I never saw a man in such a state; he was a cryin’ and wringin’ hie ‘ans over yer sufferin's. ‘Mogg,’ says he tome, ‘my dear, good Mogg, that woman's the wery fust of her sect. I loves her. Unless I gots her.’ says he, ‘Mogg, I'll just drop down and die.” Here Lady Partridge jumped up briskly in great excitement. “Did he say that? Ob, the dear, dear major.” “Ho, ho, ho! no box; now ye've the box, ye've no matches. You rub it, my pooty,and you'll rise the its. ub it, Why?” said Lucy, bewildered. ‘Don’t yer know. Like the bloke that had the ole lamp. Rub hard; it'sa magic box, I tell 7iStop! I declare { hear the sound of wheels.” Lucy laughed heartily and went on rubbing. “Harder, my pooty, I tell yer. I raised the sperits with it myself. Yo" help her to rub,” he said to Charles. 4 At that instant, asif in obedience to the charm, there appeared in the doorway the figure’ of Rooke, the well-known useful porter of all work at the Grand Hotel. He carried a bundle of wraps, plaids and coverings of all kinds, “What did I tell yer?” said the tramp, ‘There's the sperits! The magic box did it.” “Bless you, my lady,” said Rooke, rushing over to her. '“I was out of the way when you left. Why didn’t you let me know; I'd not have let you go in this cold. I've brought the "bus; and I think, my lady, you'd better come back again at once and set yourself down before a good warm fire.” “Hear, hear, " cried the tramp. that’s the best thing for us ull.” Rooke looked disdainfully at tbe speaker. But Lady Partridge seid sweetl; “Yes, Rooke, you must take care of Mr. — “Warm fire; Mr. “Mogg, mum.” “He can go outside. And do not let us lose a moment, for my extremities are literally drop- ping off.” Accordingly, the whole party entered the "bus, and Mr. Mogg was accommodated with a seat on the box. Within three weeks’ time there were two weddings at the Grand Hotel, at which Mr. Mogg, in a new suit of clothes, assisted. But he declares that _no money will ever in- ance. him to part with his magic box, as he oi —— —_+e+ a VALUE OF A CHARACTER. The Sailor Who Had None Disappeared Like a Thief. From the Chicago News-Record. ‘The captain of a large steamer was once fill- ehere, mum. Listen to me. This here suffering of yours is all along o' being a widder. ‘My ‘sperience in life is that there should be no widders at ail. They're as helpless as babies. *Oo's to purtect ‘um? I want to know; ‘oo's to nuss"um and fondle ‘um? And when Iseea fine ‘coman afore me that’s ‘ad all the young fellers makin’ up to her knocked about and pussecuted in this way my blood biles that—I won't put up with it, there! He must and be come for’ard, that jor of yours.” shall Im yourself, my good Mr. much pleased. Vhat was it you were saying about the dear major?” “Leave it tome, mum. I'll bring him to the scratch. Never fear, mum, eh? { knows a fine Here the door had opened softly, and Charles and Lucy were listening. “Now attend tome,mum. I say the fust to clear the young folks well out of yer pint “But how?” very ‘ow. Give the young ‘un her fancy Marry ‘em off, mum.” at, to that pauper? “Must be done, mum, or you may whistle for your major. Come, mum, give the word, and Tl goarter him and settle the business’ ina trice.” “Well, you are a most extraordinary person. You seem to have been in diplomacy, and I suppose you must have your way.” “O" course, Imust, Though I don't harf like ‘anding over a fine ‘coman like you, mum, to that ‘ere old bloke.” At this point Charles and Lucy rushed for- d in delight. hh, mamma,” she said, “we have heard it all; we couidu't help hearing it, And you have made us both so hap; “Ah, but, that dear major, how happy it will make him!” : “And how good of you; wasn't it, Charles? il you have suffered from the cold, and everything.” “Oh, I have forgotten all that now, but where the interests of my family are concerned Tam ready for any sacrifice. Bat Iam afraid it is rather foolish; marriage is a serious thing.” “Not when you're used to it. My dear Lady Partridge, you have made me the happiest of men, . Here Jemmy returned with the major in'his custody. hh, what utter nonsense!” said the latter. ‘ou're mad!” “L tell yor it's all settled, and there's to be no bones about it!” “Of course, it's all settied, my dear sir,” said Charles, ‘we have seen it coming all along, and favored It.” “And how sly of you. dear major,” exclaimed Lucy, rogushly, “under cover of paying your addresses to me, to have been really after dearest mamma, who is far more worthy of man. Oh, nonsen: “But I do repeat,” said the unhappy major, “that [know nothing of all this.” Now don't you repeat anything,” eaid the tramp, familiarly. “You've said it once; that's enough; and don’t you say it no more. You needn't be shy; there's a fine ‘ooman waiting for you, and go and take her.” Then, in a low whisper, “else you'll have a breach of promise about yer ears, or a pair of breeches, maybe!” He then turned to Lady Partridge: “He's only shy, mum. Stir him up abit, mum!” en Lady Partridge responded eagerly to “Oh, major, you have, indeed, read the secret of my heart! But for this kind, clever gentleman I should never have guessed the state of your feelings. So, while yon appeared to be paying your addresses to my daughter you were all the time——. Ah, but you needn't have mistrusted me. and don't keep the company waiting! Say you agrees, can’t ye?" he shouted, in a very hostile manner. “Well, there.” said the bewildered major, t I never intended—" ‘D'ye hear him—never intended. And you offerin’ me ever so much to bring about the match—fust harf-a-crown—then a xovereig: then any money I liked! You ‘eard him, si To be sure. I heard hi “It won't do, my good frien “Very well, then, [ suppose I must yield. The tramp now ‘seized on the major’s hand and put it in Lady Partridge’s. “Take her, bless yer both. And a wery nice coupl make. And now I'll give yer a weddin’ present, the magic box.” “To be sure,” cried the impetuous Charles. “Light up, light up! Let's have a roaring fire in honor of the event. Give up your matches.” The mejor searched his pockets. “Good graciovs! Why, they're all gone. Not one lett,” said Charles. ing up his crew for along voyage, when a eea- man came up and snid: “I want to sail with you, sir.” “All right, my man,” replied the captain. “Where have you sailed before?” “P. and O., sir, to Australia.” “What countryman?” “An Oirishman,” was the ready response. “Well, you must get a character.” The discharge was obtained and as the Irish- man was presenting it another seaman came up and caid he wanted to join. “What line were you on before?” asked the captain. *Cunard, sir.” “What countryman?” “English, your honor. “All right. Go forward.” Shortly after, as the two were ewiliing the decks in a heavy sea, the Englishman was swept overboard, bucket and all. Unmoved, Paddy finished his job and then went to the captain's cabin. :Come in,” responded the officer to his rap. at's up'now?”” ‘Do you remember Bill Smith, the English- ud Cunarder?” queried Pat. tainly, my man.” ‘You took him widout « character?” “I believe 80. What of that?” “He's gone overboard wid your bucket.” ———__+o2____ A RODENTIAL ROMANCE; Or, How a Timely Rescue Won a Bride. Froin Puck. _Abhorse can draw on the worst road four times as much as he can carry on his back. On good macadamized road “he can draw ten times. ona plank road twenty-five times and on a street railway fifty-eight times as much. When ye'd the matches ye'd | INDEPENDENCE DAY.! How It Was Remembered One Hun- dred Years Ago, BIRTHDAY OF LIBERTY. The Celebration Did Not Differ Moch From the Celebration of Our Time — fammany Hall Led the Patriots in New York City and the Society of the Cincinnati in Phila- | the delphia, Ls ene ee OW DOES THE celebration of the an- niversary of American | ¢Tal independence now com: pare with that of a hundred years ago? ‘There is a good deal more picnic than patri- otiem— more holiday than anniversary about it today. curiosity to know how the fathers observed it—what the patriots of 1793 did to show their love of freedom on the anniversary of American freedom’s birth. So I went to'the Capitol a few days ago snd dived deep into the musty old files of the newspapers there. The newspaper room is a quaint old place. It is just off the dimly lighted narrow passage that leads from the Senate wing to the House wing of the building. It is very near the spot where it was proposed to lay the remains of Vashington in a marble mausoleum, not under the “‘center dome of the Capitol,” as provided in the recommendations made by a special com- mittee tothe House in 1830, but north of that spot. Mrs. Washington gave her consent to the removal of the remains shortly after the first President's death; but there was a strong gen- eral fecling against carrying out the plan, the legislature of Virginia strenuously objecting to it, and so the remains lie at Mount Vernon. But the place prepared for them north of the great rotunda Capitol is pointed out to visitors today. =e ‘The newspaper collection is one of the most yaluable adjuncts of the Congressional Library. it is stored away in a room by itself where all day long its special guardian, Mr. Van Ness, sits under the flickering light of a single gas jet and sorts out the additions to it. When You wish to consult a paper, if you are nota Congressman or some one elee in high thority, you mast go to,the office of the libra- rian on the main floor of the Capitol and sit at one of the long public tables under the eye of the librarian’s assistants. Mutilation of the newspaper files of the library would be a serious matter. The newspaper collection is worth many thousands of dollars, and some of its treasures are almost beyond price, for they could never be replaced. Only those in higl place can take away the newspaper files for con- tation. They have furnished much good material for use in debate. They are a daily chronicle of the world’ Ristory and more valu- able far thar books with gilded bimling. NEWSPAPERS A CENTURY AGO. There was a daily newspaper published in 1793. It was published in Philadelphia, where the first daily newspaper appeared. It was originally the Philadelphia Packet and General Advertiser, issued asa weekly; and a complete file of it is ‘stored away on the shelves of Mr. ‘Van Ness’ room. The Packet exists today a6 the Philadelphia North American, one of the reat dailies of the great city of Pennsylvania, first issue of the Packet 8 tri-weekly and on September 21, 1784, a daily. Associated with John Dunlap in its publication was David C. Claypoole. Dunlap and Clay- poole were among the first public printers—though ther did not hold that title. They published the journals of the Con- tinental Congress and Dunlap is said to have been the first man to have printed the Declara- tion of Independence. So it is appropriate that we should take our own account of the celebra- tion of Independence Day a hundred years ago from the files of his paper, then known as Dun- Lap's American Daily Advertiser. “Dunlap did not respect the 4thof July as some of the “4 news) proprietors of today do, by decla: ing a holiday for his employes and getting out nopaper. On the contrary, he improved the day by publishing in a patriotic spirit the text of the laration of In lence, with an editorial introduction which indicates that lib- erty was not so fully established on her tal as she might have been. He says: “At a time when some of onr citizens are ais to view monarchical power with dif- ferent eves from those with which they viewed it in 1776, we hope it will not be amiss to re- mind them of the principles and feelings of the citizens of the United States in that memorable year by republishing the Declaration of Inde- pendence on the anniversary of the day which gave birth to the freedom of our country. and which, we hope, will continue to furnish a pre- cedent for deposing tyrants in every part of the world.” Then follows the declaration in full, with some little tions in punctuation, spel and general style, which would ap; gant today. But we have refi guage @ good deal in a century. THE FIRING OF CANNON. There is one little news paragraph about the observance of the day in the issue of the 4th. There was no telegraph in those days and no steam railroad, and news came in by carrier slowly. So there is no reference to the plans for celebration in other cities, and under the head of ‘Philadelphia, July 4,” there is oniy a short paragraph telling that the firing of the morning gun at daybreak had announced the birthday of American independence and that fifteen guns would be fired at noon and fifteen at two different periods afterward. Most of | the public places, of entertainment, it war stated, would oe “open for the reception of company and the evening would be closed with agrand display of fireworks.” “Thus.” says Mr. Dunlap, “Philadelpbia will exhibit perhaps the most splendid scene of any part of the con- tinent on this joyful introduction of the eigh- teenth year of glorious liberty.” The reason for firing a ralute of fifteen guns was that in 1792 Vermont and Kentucky had been admitted to the Union, increasing the number of states from the original thirteen to fifteen. In the issue of the paper for the 5th of July is an account of the local celebration. It not complete. Little scraps of this story were published from to day for nearly a week and the arrival of letters from New York fur- uished additional news, so that the story of the celebration was not cleaned up in a few hours, as it would be today, but wasscattered over two we ‘THE Toasts. The account of the Philadelphia celebration shows that the morning hours were spent in making arrangements for the different exer- cises of the afternoon. Some, says the chron- icler, dined in the country and some in town. The members of the Society of the Cincinnati Thad some | Gant patriotic discourse from these words: ere the spirit of the Lord is thene i Corinthians, iii ; Aa the occasion, was eunz by Mra, 0 shillings was eburch. After the church serv ociety returned in procession to the hall. appomted committees of congratulation and adjourned te join the several companies with which they were to dine. They met agniu in the event: and received deputations from the Society of the Cincinnati, the merchants, the mili &e. A cold collation was served and som spontaneous toasts were drank ‘Thus the anniversary of the Declaration of Independence was celebrated a hundred yeare ago. ‘The ceremonies were more simple than those which mark the celebration of the sane anniversary a century Inter, and th more universally observed. There ‘ice the m immediate reason then why the people of the United States should make merry over the establishment of the republic. They who tasted the sweets of freedom had known the voke of “monarchical power.” A gene: that lone known nothing but liberty is ps excusable for not applauding the act which gave it that liberty with the same degree of enthusiasm. Gronor Graxtuam Bax, —————— BRUIN WENT THE PACE. He Was Cross and Abusive When in His Cups, but He Meant Well. Prom the Sam Francise> Examines. Pig Jackson is dead. and as a result the heart of King McManus is bowed down beneath the weight of unutterable woe. Jackson was only # big, shaggy black bear, but he was a hale fel- low in his way, and there was not a man in all the Potrero who could cope with him when it came to drinking whisky. He could drink from morning till night, go rolling to his bed in the corner of the yard and get up in the morning fresh as ever. From his youth be was a rollick- rh | ing blade, with a good dash of the bohemian in his makeup, and early in life he started to travel the pace that kills, His friends had fore~ seen for a long time that there could be but one end to it all. and when Jackson succumbed to the grim er Saturday ther shook thei heads knowingly and said with one accord: ‘met at dinner at Oller’s Hotel and drank fifteen patriotic torste, They were: 1—The day. sete United States. —The commonwealth of Pennsylvania. 4—The republic of France. 5—The human race. 6—Peace to the world. —The fair daughters of Columbia. 8—The President of the United States, 9—The Society of the Cincinnati. it aud social virtue. . commerce and manufac- 12—The liberty of the press, 13—The federal Constitution. 14—The times. { 15—The veterans of the American war. According to the chronicie fittecn rounds of the twelve-pounders were fired at noon, fifteen more at the first toast of the Cincinnati, fifteen at the eighth toast, fifteen more at the fifteenth, and finally the evening gun, fired at the proper time, “gave the company notice of retiring, which they did at a good hour.” In the after noon, it is related, a great many people who had returned from excursions visited the circus. Possibly they were those half-hearted patriots whose views of “monarchical power” were undergoing achange. ‘The day was crowned with a briliiant display of fireworks given on Market street near 9th, now the heart of the business part of the city. Accounts published on later days tell of the assembling of citizens at a patriotic dinner at Federal Point on the Delaware, of the gather- ing of the “St, Tammany Fishing Company” at Fort Proctor on the Schuylkill, where the Declaration of Independence was read and greeted with cheers, and, finally, of the assem- bling of the French Patriotic Society at the tavern of George Lefher on North 2d street, | where another long list of toasts appropriate to the day was enthusiastically discussed. THE TAMMANY SocTETY. But second in interest only to the general celebration in Philadelnbia was the celebration told you so. Sunstroke was the immediate caure of his death. but alcoholism reared its hideous head behind it all. Dissipation had sapped the strength of a once robust constitution and on Saturday came the end. As usual, Jackson wasin his euos. Daring the forenoon be poured whisky into his stomach in liberal juantities and the consequence was that by ie noon hour he was very drunk. Then he became ugly and boisterous, as was his wont when drinking, and he was thrust out in tne small back yard to sleep off the effects of his Fetations The day was hot and Jackson's lood wasafire from whisky. He lay in the sun for some time in a drunken stupor and when evening came he was dead. Sunstroke, the doctor said, and his life must have gone ‘out hours before they fornd him. When it was found that Jackson was dead King McManus was sent for. He had been the latter's favorite for years, and it was deemed fitting that the Monarch of Potrero should be given the opportunity to show the last honors to bis pet. “Give him the best send-off you can. bors.” was the king's admonition, “and don't spare any expe jackson was a thoroughbred td nothing is too good fOr kim. Send the bill me. And so McManus’ followers gathered im to attend the rites. There was a wake such as only the Potrero knows, and when it was all over the body of Jackson was laid to rest in a grave dug for bim on the top of Irish Hill, overlook- ing the scene of many a jolly carousal. Nor was there any Inck of mourners. Jackson had made & host of friends in hit dissipated career, and they stood about his graveside to do such honor as they could. “We planted him just like a human being,” said one sympathizer. ‘And why shouldn't we? He wasn't the best bear in the world, for he drank like a fish and was often cross and abu- sive; but he meant well, and he never played it low on a friend in need.” soo A Formal Tea in Japan. From the Chicazo lnter-Ocean. Only the powdered article is served in Japan ata “formal tea.” Directly on arrival of the guests, who are expected to appear on such oc- casions in full dress, they are seated in the tea house within the tea garden, and the beve-nge served toeach of them seperately. ‘The fix- tures of the room and surroundings generally are always the same. There is a platform which is called the “tokonoma,” or “place to hang the picture.” This platrorm is also dec- orated flower, The bamboo dipper in which tea is served very properly is attached to tne lid of the teapot. “Above a large porcelai vessel containing a charcoal fire 1s placed th kettle. Cute little lacquered caddies are used for holding powdered tea, and a crepe or sill. cloth called the “*fukusa” is held in the hostess’ hand for the purpose of removing flecks of scattering tea dust. When the water hns reached the proper degree of heat the Indy deftly pours the powdered tea from the caddy and the water from the kettle simultaneovsly into the bamboo dipper, and proceeds to stir it carciully with a “‘chasen,” a sort of “foather brash” made of bamboo, one end of whieh a chopped into fine shreds, Right here are the two operations upon which depend the success of powdered tea making. A novice will spoil it by improperly mixing the nd tea together or through inexperience in stirring. The latter operation requires deft ness and long practice, while the former is nothing more nor less than a piece of legerde- main. When ready. the draught of ten in the dipper is rerved by the hostess or ber maid, accompanied by an elaborate bow. In serving the maid holds the vessel contain- ing the tea high up, even with the top of ber head, and after bowing and serving it in a sit- ting posture, she arises and returns to her place, walking backward, —-— see _ Again the Deadly Folding Bed, From the Chi-ago Daily Tri Mrs. Mary Smith, who lived with her son at 5918 Indiana avenue, was crashed in « folding bed Saturday night. Her son returned bome late and in a bed room on the second floor found her body crushed between the sides of the bed. On the floor near by was a pail of water, and it Was ap) it Mrs. Smith bad been cleaning the bed. It is supposed that in leaning upon the end nearest the headboard the bed became overbalanced and suddenly closed. The side- rails crushed the woman's chest and head, and it is thonght her death was cansed not so much from internal injury as from suffocation, as ber head was buried in the bedclothes. He Had Experience. iftine, You want « place in my store, pplicant—“Yes, sir.” er worked in a store befor ., sir.” “Let me try you 80 oad, shout ith a piece of cloth and want to gets Stmber of yards to match it, what would you 'd send her to the next counter?” “I guess you've had experience. Equal to the Emergency. From Pock. Honsewife —“Isn't this milk adulterated, mister? Just see whata bluish appearance it has.” Milkman—“Not at all, madem; that's i ppearance. I pasture my o bh FOK NERVOUS PROSTRATION Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. Dr. A. Trau, Philadelphia, Pa. says: “I have ex- tensively used it in nervous prostration ama very kindred affectious and invariably good results.” “