Evening Star Newspaper, August 12, 1893, Page 11

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, STYLE OF THE SKIRT. An Absorbing Topic for Feminine Consideration. ITS, WIDTH AND HANG. Prophecies as to Fashions for Fall. SLEEVES TO BE LARGER. NEW YORK, August 1, 1898. REEK MAIDENS are forever being held up to us as mo- dels of “flowing lines” perfection, but from even her to the hoop disteaded dame of the Empress Eu- gwenie’s reign, down jes, point above all oth: that calls for con- sideration and skill. The bodice, sleeves, revers, bretelles, comb and otherwise that go to thetr cre- ation may fection itself and yet the whole effect may be spoiled by the il St or non-adaptation of the accom- panying skirt. The general outline being the same, there is yet something of a di- versity in the style of skirts by which taste and choice may be exercised. You are allowed to have your skirt very wide at the bottom or considerably narrower than the widest and still be well a 3 You may have the trimming of the skirt just as you please; three ruffles on the Lot- tom or none; ruffles at the knees or none; Just below the basque, or where the basque would be if you had one—or none, and you can use plain, gimp or jet trim- ming or a ruching of the or nothing, sweet will. e go back to and trim It at the bottom, at below the waist, and some wide skirt with no trimming, Tow below the basque point. variety to one’s ward- the skirts of all one's dresacs ein every detail except the Then there are folds with a folds without a piping; there of lace, of goods like the gown. ming silk, and ruffles trimmed ribbon; there are two, three, or more ruffies—you cannot go amiss. of cutting your coat accord- to your cloth may be closely followed skirt trimming and yet no one that exalted pastime of “making over” an_ancient gown. gg Ha nt ARB R508 fun ietate a BE But the latest style of skirt is not for the| of new stuff, nor is it! ecomsing tp the petite beauty’ ato tt 80 petite beauty’ as to the stately one. It is made of three circular flounces sewed on a skirt, with a narrow front wide back gores. with bias and ‘and two foined in a center seam. The skirt has the SRERe f neg Hi, | velvet bin which now comes @ facing of two oi fiounced sk! of ttily trimmed with frills lace, headed with a row of hand crocheted gimp. One cannot go amiss. If extra’ it in taste and un- SF #2 opportunity to spend precious time and ins in invent- ing combinations, in and pressing and cut and to the heart's con- tent, so that the skirt. after all. may be efor us a “thing of beauty and joy for- ever. Both up with the Modes. A rather novel effect is produced by the @ouble skirt sketched In the initial. The bottom skirt has a circular bell shape and ig trimmed with four bias folds of ‘The upper skirt is raised on one side, edged with a ruffle finished with a fold of silk also taken on the cross. Both skirts are made of sand colored beige, the upper somewhat shorter than the lower. The blouse is made of plaid silk, taken bias, and hooks at the side. The wide belt is of the same stlk. The jacket is quite short and is made se arately of mode cloth, lined with plaid silk and trimmed with’ jet passementerie. It has a rever collar laid in hollow pleats on the shoulJers, which is also trimmed with jet ‘The material employed for the second toilet is thin cream colored woolen suiting dotted with and trimmed with paie velvet ribbon of a darker hade, ferent widths fs lined with satl bottom with a de points at the rows of narrc waist fits snt in front and trimmed at The bell skirt and trimmed around the ruflle, forming top and garnished with four « velvet ribbon. The round d has @ pointed plece k of gathered green surah the neck with two bands of velvet ribbon and edged with wider ribbon, which form butterfly bows on the should: ‘The bretelles of suiting are garnished with three rows of narrow ribbon. The sleeves are trimmed with four rows of rib- bon at the wrist and have a deep, full pu The belt is of wide velvet ribbon, with tn mg ends and several loops. 3 no collar and 1s cut a slight V in front and back. to the preseat day of | less inflated draper- | the skirt of a costume is the one | epaulettes and all the | puffs, shirrs, honey- | be per-) A Model in Linen. ‘The skirt of the mother’s dress in the next picture ts trimmed around the bottom with a ruching of — gee oe and ndicul ipes 0 or baeongyitccmed ne sre ut about the top at | regular intervals. The space between th stripes is about two and a half inches, those in front being twenty-one inches long, while in back they measure twenty-three inches. All are pointed and are three and | a half inches wide. The skirt itself is of Diack grenadine made over taffeta silk. The ning of the bodice is tight and the nadine is draped over it in front and ck, the grenadine having insertions of the same lace that forms the strips on the skirt. The tollet, is completed by @ deep lace collar edged with a lace frill. The bodice has a vest of folded black satin shirred once down the center. The full sleeves are of grenadine with long cuff: the puff is shirred seven times at the el bow. The material used in the youthful | model of the same illustration is col- ored woolen suiting trimmed with lace un- | deriaid with pink ‘silk and pink ribbons. The skirt has an insertion of silk covered with lace around the bottom, and has a separate foundation skirt of pink satin. The lace insertion is about inch wide. The bodice is tight-fitting in back, but the fronts lap over; in front there is a pointed plastron of silk covered with lace, and a deep lace collar completes the dainty costume. Al in White. The fourth sketch shows a very effective gown of cream linen, with a conventional design in mauve, the bodice being in plain mauve trimmed with cream gutpure. The skirt Is formed of five breadths, cut on the cross s© as to avoid any fullness at the sides, the back only being pleated. The Skirt will take seven yards of, material and the bodice four yards and a half. The ribbon with which the very full sleeves are drawn in should be of moss to match the hat, and the bow in front should be of ‘the same shade or, if ; a color of dark pansy purple fancy ribbon. The hat is of moss green fancy straw, trimmed with lace and corn flowers. It turns up a little at the back and the trimming is high in the front. Last we come to a handsome summer dress made of white woolen sulting, trimmed with ruffles of the same. The cir- cular bell skirt is lined with white satin and stiffened slightly. Around the bottom are three ruffles, seven inches wide, pinked at the lower edge and gathered twice near the top to form a narrow puff with a small heag. The round waist has a vest of tucked and shirred white stuff as shown. The elbow sleeves are ished with & deep pinked frill. The Eton jacket has pointed revers and Is edged with white woolen braid and iined ith white satin. The standing collar 1s trimmed with braid and the wide belt is also garnished with the same. To reserve for the last word a bit of hecy, sleeves are to become still larger. Fail jackets are to take four and a half and five yards for the sleeves, and the dresses will not be far behind. ‘That means that skirts will remain full, for with nar- row skirts and these enormous sleeves, a woman without any umbrella or any other prop would look as if she must fall from sheer top heaviness. Sirceiescsc NIB ER WOMEN’S FANCIES. The Stick Pin Crase—White Petti- coats—The Care of Shoes. From the Chicago Herald “O, I have it quite as badly as if the fashion of wearing these baubles had “but just started. Time does not seem to cool my ardor, and that’s the funniest part of it, but,” continued the fair one, “I've got to call @ halt. I fairly sow stick pins. I can manage to keep the common ones, but my choicest specimens are going.” Now, isn’t this sort of odd? The com- plaint 1s so general. Ask any woman how her collection is coming along and she will answer, poorly enough. Adding, “Truth 1s, I can manage to make the cheap things in gilt and silver stick by me, but if ever I have a jeweled device in which I take especial pride, that pin is bound to give me the slip. Really one needs almost as many stick pins a those of a humbler make) They not only have a way all thelr own of gath- ering into place frill and fold, but they add a touch of unique prettiness, that is. if se- lected with a View to oddity of design and finish. Let me see; when I started out the other day 1 studded my shirt frill with three, anchored one to my high choker, stuck one in the back of my veil, ran a long-pointed one through my sweet peas and finished off my belt with a couple, When I got home the beauty of the set had disappear- ed. How that pin ever contrived to es- ‘me I shall never know. think I shali have, with a gvod many other women, to cling to Frenchy finita- tions. They are pretty clever and a pin which only costs 5 cents, as I have learn- ed from experience, will never wear out and you cannot lose it. The making of a petticoat is not the v1 important thing it seems. Upon its “hanj depends the appearance of A loose, sagging back means of one's gown will hang dejectedly, and a lapped-over band means a bulging dress bodice. In making white skirts always wash the cotton first; then the question of shrink- awe will cease to have terrors. Do not gore the goods at too much of an angle. Take a width of the material, fold {t over on the bias, leaving a difference of seven and a half inches between the bottom and the top. This is for the side pieces. The buck is usually left plain and fuil and the front gored to correspond with the front darts in @ dress skirt. Sew all seams from the i tees off unevenness at the bot- tom. Have the yoke belt fit smoothly. If one has extremely small hi a few gathers on the sides are on advantage. Otherwise all the fullness should come in the back. Trim with embroidery chosen for its enduring qualities. If you would have your shoes retain their pristine freshness longer than a week, do Rot treat them with polishes and dressings, each one of which claim to be the best and least injurious. As soon as you come in from a walk, dust them carefully with s,foft flannel Kept for that purpose. Let them air as you do your underclothes, and when they are dry stuff them with soft Ussue paper; button or lace them over this. In this way they will keep their shape for a long time. When they are so worn that they must be brightened, rub them with a flannel cloth and a little vaseline. Apply the Srease carefully, not merely smearing it over the surface of the leather, but rub- ing it in. When it is completely abaorb- ed, rub briskly with fresh fan. nel. Do not wear your walking boots in the house and do not walk in your slippers. Keep a pa of shoes suitable for each oc- casion. In this way, though you may seem to have an extravagant supply, you will be really = ing your economical spirit. Shoes worn indoors and out not only loee their brightness and neatness, but last only about one-third long as if they were oc- casionagy relieved. FEATHERED RASCALS, Better Known as English Sparrows, Sometimes as House Sparrows, IMPORTED 10 THIS COUNTRY, And the Man Who Did It Has Never Been Lynched. THEY ARE MODERN, THOUGH. OUSE SPARROW, the Briton calls him, but we on this side of the water, when we are not stigmatiz- ing him as a “ruffian in feathers,’ term him the “English sparrow” that the blame of his naughty ways may rest with the land of his ori- gin and nowhere else. And as to who was the misguided being that introduced him to these shores the chronicles are silent, that cuiprit, in the general hue and cry of disapprobation {ol- lowing shortly on his worse than worthl importation, being only too glad to escape into obscurity. But that the sparrow has been installed with us now all of forty years, is a melan- choly fact that is daily growing more mel- ancholy as the little feathered nuisance multiplies ten, twenty and a hundredéold with the passage of time. He was brought here under the impres- sion that he would destroy caterpillars aud other worms and insects harmful to the trees in the streets and parks of American cities, though why anybody with an ability to read the English newspapers, that for years have teemed with accounts of his on- sets onto yardens and orchards where he has wholesalely devoured everything but what he was desired to eat, should imagine that with his transportation to another land he would forthwith change his nature ir a mystery. In old church warden’s books, indeed, dat: ing back as far as the beginning of this gentury, entries of this kind are commonly ‘To Joe Willett, for one dozen and four sparrows, one shilling one pence.” While, after the abolishment of the com- pulsory payment of church rates, “sparrow clubs” were formed, whose sole object was the extermination ‘of the bird that gave them their name, these organizations exist- ing all over rural England to this very day, and whose work is further abetted by the shooting clubs, who give from six to eighteen pence per dozen for sparrows to supply their traps, is bird will, it is true, sometimes eat insects and worms, but only in the way of dessert, or as an entree, the piece de restst- ance of the sparrow menu being the mis- cellaneous contents of garbage receptacles, made piquant by a gurnishing of young garden peas, the new buds of trees and other little relishes of the sort, the con- sumption of which brings woe to the hus- bandman’s heart. A fat grub. if particularly luscious and Juicy looking, and which is withal wrested from a bird three times his size, as an as- tonished robin, for instance, who is about to convey the tidbit to his bables. Sir Sparrow is not now and then averse to the sweet of conquest making a palatable sauce wherewith to wash down this not-too-well relished viand. But in the face of all this direct evidence against him as an habitual worm slayer, he was brought here, and in the. first months, of his landing’ carefully harbored and fed. In Boston, where he is said to have made his initial chirp to the American public, boxes for nesting being placed in the ‘ks’ and his wants generally thoroughly ed after. The immediate success of his under- taking must have been very gratifying to this now mysterious personage, their in- troducer, as he wandered through Boston Common and witnessed the liveliness and the multiplication 0! his precious bind, since It could not have been long before he must have been assured that the sparrows had gained a permanent foothold, each ir producing here, as on their ‘native Reath? from eighteen to thirty young Ina season, and his glow of pride being at that time, of course, undimmed by the fact that a very few decades later the far away state of Michigan, which had never even invited them thither, would be offering a reward of §0 cents a hundred for their dear Uttle heads, and that in 1893 the Columbian exposition, ‘whose buildings, too, overorna- mented with their nests, would be beseech- ing the powers at the national capital to suggest some means for getting rid of nest, occupants and owners. From a Singing Race. One wouldn't think it, but this ‘comical little wretch,” the sparrow, as the sage of Chelsea calls him, belongs to a iamily cf birds, the finches, that numbers among it most. beautiful singers of the air, and thic'the sparrow has an idea of performing @ sort of matin no one can doubt who has ever been awake at peep of day. The pe petrator of this morning lay very probably thinks it beautiful, but to us humans,whose ears are not attuned to this particular ve- riety of voluntary, it is only a harsh chirp- ing that we class with other awukenini city sounds—the rattle of heavy wagons over pavements, the untranslatable shrieks of early venders, fitting so perfectly with them that’we almost forget they are not a necessary part of urban industry. Tf the legions of sparrows that inhabit our cities sang as sweetly as the robin, whose sunrise choruses these summer dawns wake the country dreamer only to send him into more beatific trances. .Ah, if sparrows sang——! But if they are no more melodious than the little gamins crying their first editions (who knows, indeed, but that they are the newsboys of bird-dom, screaming the latest tidings of the feathered world, and so of course undeniably essential in the economy of their race), let us at least felicitate our- selves upon the fact that they are vot a bigger, for if the sparrow were as larse, for Instance, as a domestic fowl, think what dangers we would encounter! For were this bird's present pugilistic spirit supplemented by size, he would be dis- ting the very pavement with us, and jeopardizing the comfort of timid-minjed People. For aside from his absolute uselessness his pugnacity leading him to drive away timid and more valuable birds, Is one of the sins that is laid at his door. He will quarrel, indeed, with everything in the shape of a bird, superior size not de- terring him at all from ut least beginning Tow, while for cats, the arch enemy of his kind, he has, excepting in the nesting sea- son, wher. parental responsibilities unsettle his ‘nerves, an insolent scorn. The writer recalls one day last winter seeeing a iow bush quite filled with these birds, while under it crouched a huge gray imalkin looking up as longingly as ever id child to some toy-laden, candle lt Christmas tree, but the snrub's pert little Occupants notin the least daunted sat carelessly eyeing the cat with heads first on one side and then on the other and chatter- ing tauntingly as if saying: “catch us, catch us. Don't you wish you could? Don't you wish you could? Catch us, catch ux.” While puss being an experienced feline did not gratify them by making an attempt that would certainly end in ignominious failure, but took out his satisfaction in im- agining how very good they would taste could he but get them. A Modern Traveler. When one reflects on certain qualities Possessed by the sparrow it is not surpris- ing that he has thriven so remarkably under occidental transplantation, for he has ‘some eminently American attributes. He 1s all push and energy and busy to the last degree. So very busy in fact as frequently to-never complete his nest. but aa tate in the season as when he ‘is tending his last brood of fledglings, still intersperses family duties with making additions and modifications to his house. Perhaps though that is because his ideal of a nest is so very high, or rather so very large, for some of their’ structures in this Ine would make an unitiated observer al- most believe that the harmless necessary barnyard hen had been seized with lofty ase pirations and made her nest on high. ‘Then, too, he has no objection to going west and growing up with the country, or north and usurping Canada, and takes’ in- deed very modern methods of traveling while getting to these places. ‘The first sparrow colonies of many remoter parts of the continent being directly traceable to the instrumentality of box cars, in which upon the eve of their departure from some eastern city sparrows had sought a night's lodging, and where they perforce remained prisoners until the cars had reached their destination, when, like true optimists, they emerged in most cheerful frames of’ nind to begin life over again. The St. John, New Brunswick, sparrows are referred directly to a box’ car that reached there in 1883, while save Sooenty Montreal are averred to have journey: thither after the same nineteenth century mode. They issued from these box cars among strangers and in a strange land in the best = of spirits, for they are undeniably cheerful, most quarrelsome creatures, whether brute Sne'can imagine a maoping blue bind “ot e can ry Jue a pining robin, or a pensive oriole, but never anything but a pert and filppant sparrow. Marriage a Failure. Mrs. Olive Thorne Miller, the keen ob- server of birds, is authority for the very sad news that the little cock sparrow ty- rannizes over his wife, going so far as to divorce her if she dares to say that her sparrow soul is her own, or to even enter- tain views regarding the location of the nest upon which she 1s to sit for so many weeks. Sometimes—so_ says Mrs. Miller—after poor little Mrs. Sparrow has reared twelve or elghteen sparrow children, then for some slight pettishness on her part—et- tendant, “no doubt, nervousness arising ‘trom the unceasing care of infants ir. Sparrow will forthwith desert her, and then add insult to injury by getting new wife, and bringing this fresh plumaged young bride to the home of the worn spouse of his youth, whom he pro- ceeds to summarily drive out. But, as very imperfect beings sometimes have at least one redeeming trait, it is perhaps but Just to note, after such a long list of misdemeanors’ and vices, the existence, in a certain historic pair of Fows, of what might almost be called & under whose eaves they Christian virtue, A_ Londoner, built, observed them long after the nest- ing season was over, still returning fre- quently throughout the day to thelr old home. All through the autumn their visits continued, and when they were extended far into the winter, curiosity prevailed with their big neighbor, and procuring a lad- der, he proceeded to investigate the cause of their very unusual behavior. Upon reaching the nest, he found it oc- cupled by one of the fledglings of the sea- son past, which, though full grown and quite equipped for flying, was still unable to do 80 because some of the strings com- posing the nest had become tangled about its legs and held tt fast. And for this reason, through the long summer and autumn and winter the tiny brown father and mother had cared for their unfortunate child, Human parental love could not have done more. ———_+0+_____ FOR THE SUMMER HOP. New Fanctes mer Ball Room are Not in Vogue. Gowns made for the sole purpose of grac- ing the summer dance seem to be losing their popularity. This summer, at least, we have héard but/lttle about them. One reason of it is that there is such an uncer- tainty about the cut of the coming gown. It took us so long to make up our minds last winter that one would think the styles finally settled upon would be accorded a somewhat permanent reign. But scarcely are they installed when the momentous question arises. ‘What shall succeed them?” What, indeed! The rumors are #s yet too undefined, and therefore the care- ful woman is wearing her old ball gowns, and tne young girls, many of them, are simply wearing the light organdies and mus- ling with the guimpes removed and ribbons r A vrimrose Crepon. Even this gown, which has the merit of being freshly made up, can claim no atrik- ing originality or new conception, It fol- lows the lines already laid down. The ma- terial is a primrose crepon, and is trimmed with a very narrow lace flouncing at the feet. Butterfly bows of black velvet head flouncing at frequent intervals. The icose bodice,’ which 1s drawn across, not down, in gathers, is of soft silk, also prim- rose. The Victorian revers, of black vel- vet, are covered by a Venetian lace which narrows with the rever. A bow stands at the left side, and at the small buckle which holds the velvet roll of a belt. The sleeve puff is only a single one and very short. ————_+e+ AN ENGLISH GOWN. ‘The Gracelessness of the English Out- ing Costume. Some of us are still Anglomantacs, in spite of the trials we have un lergone be- cause of adherence to the mother country. Many devotees were lost to her when she propagated the crinoline, and many voces were upraised to denounce the graceless- ness of her robes. So she was forced to withdraw’ into the background for a while, and to proclaim, through an authoritative voice, that she repudiate? her latest crea- tion; that she refused to wear those ample folds of her own conception. A Black Serge. ‘Then her admirers came forward once more proclaiming thelr allegiance with loud voice. You can always tell an Anglo- maniac at a glance. The cut of her gown is so very distinct from the American ver- sion of the French styles—which are most popular with us—that she proclaims her- self. The French lines fall in much pleus- ante places than do those of the English. The latter are hard, severe, uncompromis- ing. ‘For an example I would refer you to this pecullarly English costume. It is fashion- able, oh, yes! but that is all that can be claimed for it. It was seen at a gay gather- ing on a summer lawn an afternoon last week. The black serge skirt, falling in full plaits at the side, has a short overskirt at the hips. The Eton jacket ts turned back in stiff revers that are lined with pink, and striped pink shirt, with lace insertions be- tween, brightens the effect perceptibly. tee A Seasonable Call. From the Chicayo Record. “It is so beastly hot that I think I must call on Miss Millions.” “What has Miss Millions to do with the weather” “She always giv tion, don’t you know. ———— ++ e such @ cool recep- Pushed for Money. From Truth. D. C. SKIURDAY, AUGUST 12, 1893—SIXTEEN PAGES. What Van Bibber Did Next pacts 5 PR (WITH ALL DUE APOLOGIES TO MR. RICHARD HARDING DAVIS.) Joanie Bell Hart in Vassar Miscellany. HE DOOR OF THE club house opened and shut. Van Bib- ber stood on the steps. His appearance was hailed from the win- dow, with a certain critical interest, by a group of club men. “There goes Van,” said Travers. “I wish I had the shoulders that fellow’s got,” he : added, in @ disconso- " late tone. “My dear boy,” said Caruthers, sagely, you could stand the addition of a considera- ble number of Van Eibber’s good points, and not be overburdened with a super- fuity,”” “No doubt,” said Travers, undaunted. “I will say this for Van, though: He keeps the coolest head with it all that I ever saw. I Suppose he was born so, he added, in a med- tative tone, which induced a somewhat sar- castic “perhaps,” from Caruthers. ‘an Bibber pursued his way down the avenue, unaware of the favorable opinions of his fellow beings. For eight or ten blocks he walked at a somewhat rapid Pace, then suddenly brought up with a start at a comer house. je hastily crossed the si down two blocks more, whereupon he ins mediately recrossed and returned to the “After doing this, with variations, for th with variations, e SeE PE Meet ous ge the ape hatund subsided into aehaln’ O° ee tly the portieres were pushed aside and a young girl entered. She had clear, Sray eyes ana wore her hair drawn smoothly back from a rather broad fore- head. At sight of her a slightly embar- Tassed air which Van Bibber had worn dis- "ow do you do, Mr. Van Bibber?” she said. cordially. “It is pleasant to see you again. I had begun to think that you had forgotten us entirely.” There was a sin- gere note in the voice which went. well "ihe conversation, wh versation which followed w: sormapyea near Routh falonstweang the last new play. Through it all Van Bib- ease. It was apparent. that his thoughts were elsewhere. As it Is dif: ficult for one to make a conversation, pres- silence fell between them. broken by Van Bibber. He got Walked across the room and stood in he sald, slowly, “I didn't come here today to talk’ about theaters and books and all that. I came here to tell you torething “something which I have been Thee 360, fell You for weeks past. Helen, ¢ started up suddenly, and stood fac- ing him. “Oh, Mr. Van I g gan, < lousy ‘an Bibber,” she be- Wait a moment, dear, please,” he said. “I want you to he I wil ite ear my side first, and then it not?” wit ‘The girl h a hopeful little smile. T bowed her head silent! J have thought it all out,” Van Bibber Went on, earnestly, “and I’ have decided that this Is the best way—to tell you, and then not let you answer me at first. Be- cause, dear, I want vou to understand all about it. Helen, from the moment Your gant introduced us I began to love you. ou were somehow so different from the girls I had known al! my life, I can't ex- actly explain it. Your manner was so sweet and quiet, your hair wasn't rough and curled like ‘other girls'—just smooth, and shen you were so shy. I want to do so much for you, darling, and we could be so ta oe a ve oes it ali out. T can’t .”" he said. smiling, “how y thinking tt all out has Tide men aDPy the Winter we would live heré in New York, and in the summer we would go to gome quiet little place, not Newport or Lenox or any of those’ places, but some ttle town where no one would know us. And we would take long walks and drives together, just you and I. And we would Tead to each other, and you would teach me to be a better sort of fellow, for, dear,” . humbly, “I'm not good enough z m not what I ought to be, but lelen, if ever a man tri to be worthy woman, I will try to be worthy of "Then we could go abroa: with boyish enthusiasm, “ been, have you, Helen? 'I would show you everything, and oh, {t would be so jolly! the fellows at the club—Teasers and all that lot, would just envy me so Hat aiey Would’ go ang do likewise. Oh, Helen!” he said, gaily, “don't you see that {t's your duty, if only to convince those fel- lows that a life of single blessedness isn't the best on He paused and drew a long breath. he said. gravely, “I ” he continued, ou have never “And now. deer,” want you to tell me just how you feel about it, If you don't jove me now, wont you try? I can be very patient, I can wait as long as to, Helen, only, ‘don’t teil me ‘The girl, during all this’ time, n: with bowed head. Her hands were ieceet together in her lap; only the nervous ine terlacing of the fingers had shown signs of any emotion on her part. Now, she raised her head. Her eyelashes were wet “Mr. Van Biber,” she said, brokenly, “I ought not to have let you tell me ali thi think too hard of me, please. thought Aunt Eleanor had told you. I have been ‘taking it for granted that you knew that in my own home there is someone to whom I have promised myself. Van Bibber had been standing with his hand resting on a small table near-by, ‘That hand involuntarily clinched now, and the muscles of his face stiffened, and then Telaxed. He did not speak for a moment, When he did, it was in the even tones of ordinary conversation. “Will you tell me a little more about him, Helen?” he said, gently. The, girl flushed auickly. good,”" she suid, eagerly, “far too good for me. ‘He is preparing to enter the ministry— the Presbyterian Church. He has loved me 80 long; we have been engaged three years. We expect to be married as soon as he gets | a church,” she said, softly. “That is all, except.” Impetuously, “I can’t tell you how happily I have passed the last three months, and what your friendship has been jo me.’ Well, perhaps not. She could not teil him that her tastes and thoughts and feelings had become so interwoven with his that life without him somehow seemed a blank— that every word he had just uttered had torn her heart.at the same time that it had filled her with a wonderful happiness. No, she could not tell him all this. Away up in that little New England village was some one who loved her,—to whom she had bound herself. Surely, this enough. Van Bibber, listening only to her last words, knew ‘nothing of what her heart trying to tell his. He ral head with a determined air. “Helen,” he avid, “if the time hs Daseed Dear, don’t | happily for you, fam content. look at me so pitingly,”—had he known tha it wi Il right, somehow. But there's just one thing I want you to remember, Helen. If I ever amount to anything ‘in this world, it will all be owing to you. “And now I will say gcodbye, will be better 80.” He took her hand and held it for a mo- ment, looking down at it tenderly. “I wonder,” he said slowly—a flush rose to his cheek, and he looked at her almost timidly—"I wonder If you would mind if I kissed it just once?” The girl, with a long, half-sobbing breath, held her hand toward him. Van Bibber raised it reverently, then suddenly put it y, again. forgot for a moment,” he said, with a brave smile. “‘He—that other fellow, you know—mightn’t like it. Good-bye, Helen,” and he was gone. She did not go to the window to watch his retreating form with a sickening sense of loss. That is not good form on the ave- nue. She went to dress for dinner, and after dinner she drove to the opera with her aunt and sat out five acts. As for Van Bibber, he walked slowly up the avenue, wondering how the way of a certain New England clergyman and his wife could best be made smooth. There was food for much meditation in this. Half unconsciously he turned off into a side street and walked for a number of blocks lost in thought. As he turned a corner a group of boys matching pennies aroused him. He stopped to watch them with a queer little smile. Presently he wen® into a store, where, in some mysterious manner, a bill was changed Into a double handful ‘of pennies. These he scattered among the group, the mem- bers of which earnestly assured him that he was “the stuff” and other vaguely de- lightful things. There was one little fel- low who in the general scramble failed to secure any of the scattered wealth. He {urned up such a pitiful. pleading face that Van Bibber was forthwith moved to pre- sent him personally with a bill, changed into pennies, meant fabulous riches to the appreciative audience. Then Van Bibber turned and started for the club, followed by the most flattering comments it had ever been his luck to hear. When he reached the top of the club house steps he paused for a moment and looked down the avenue. It was growing dusk, otherwise the men in the window = have seen a strange expression on dear. It which, to yours. That is quite fair, is | i not all pity for him—"I shall get | | | “Yes,” he was sayl to himself, “she shall never have cause to be ashamed that Fr toue oe ae , er that she was the tion of all that is good in my life, and please God, some day she will not be ashamed to : “That man loved me.’" 'an Bibber took off his hat and stood quite still for a moment. “There's Van in,” said ‘Travers. Caruthers and he stood regarding the figure Rutravers” sald Caruthers, “do “Travers,” c oe you suppose he was ever in ee ‘He! ‘Travers. laughed scornfully. “I thought you knew Van better. Why, he's got too much sense for that. To be sure, he could have any one for the But it's my opinion, Caruthers—it’s my that there's not a woman in the New York that’s good PeThe door ofthe ab. and e r of e clu louse opened shut. Van Bibber had disappeared. Ungracetal Gar- ments of the Present to Be Abolished. From the Clothier and Furnisber. In the interest of the attribute that is rated next to Godliness, the undershirt should be buttoned all the way down the front and be put on and taken off as is a coat. Then % per cent instead of 10 per cent of undershirts would be discarded be- fore retiring. ‘There would be no ungainly exposure of cuticle in such a procedure and the wearer would be saved the humilitating tangle which the prevailing undershirt involves him in. There is nothing so unpicturesque to the feminine eye as to witness her lege lord fighting his way through his series of shirts. It is a divertisement calculated to rob even the honeymoon of much of its romance. It is small wonder that after such a performance the ideal of heroic manhood should be shattered. The present scheme of masculine under- dress is uncongenial and ungraceful. The overhead ordeal has driven many votaries of the night roves—which should button down to the front—to pajamas, the most comfortable and feasible slumber garment of summer. ‘The bath robe is a harbinger of delight. In it a gentleman ts securely envel with its cord and tassels at both the waist and neck; its pattern, the while, giving the wearer @ consistently dressed ‘appear- ance that is calculated to disarm comment. ‘The test of the correct system of mascu- line underdress is the wearer's self respect. ‘To secure this, some of the later-day swells have had their undergarb made to order in accordance with their own advanced notion: It is a well known fact that the open-front shirt, that goes on like a coat, is now large- ly worn by the denizens of swaggerdom, and that the Earl of Craven adopts this shirt. The merchant travelers that live in sleeping cars half the time must have these shirts, owing to the {mpracticability of sete into the regulation shirt in the confined quarters of a sleeping car berth. The newest thing in coat shirts ts the ex- ample with the double breasted effect in the skirt. There are several well known high-class men’s furnishers ‘that make this shirt for some of the leading fashion framers of Gotham. The garment opens in front all the way down, save that the skirt in front, like the double breasted waistcoat, laps over and buttons down each side’ of the skirt from the waistline. The idea is an excellent one and finds new advocates as It becomes known. Most of the men’s furnishers are miles behind the times, for with enterprise they might agitate a new regime that would greatly enhance their evstom made aggre- ate. eethie inculcation of the fitting out of a prospective groom in a full complement of underdress tx a capital and apropos idea which largely augments the sales of the men’s furnishers that heartily favor such a lucrative innovation, ‘There is an essential refinement in these right minded theories with reference to undershirts, shirts and night shirts. It seems positively brutal to wrench off one’s undershirt at night and nightgown in the morning with the attendant display of anatomy Nor is there need for it with such cur- riculum as has been devised to happily alleviate the recurrence thereof and perme- ate every refined household with a rational demeanor that will serve to inaugurate, in the language of Rip Van Winkle, “Long life and happiness.” IT WITHSTANDS THE SEA. Poplin Refuses to Be Rendered Limp and Lifeless, How many gowns have been ruined in an afternoon by the sea, How many pretty silk and lace trifles, that have been put on in exquisite freshness just’ out of the box, have come back limp and forlorn with the damp of the waves lying heavy upon them. How many sailor hats have seen the light of day only for a few short hours, and have then been flung awey because the brim no longer stood straight,but curved in extraor- dinary and irreievant fashion. Many a lovely lawn, with fresh standing bows, has fallen together in a helpless fashion after much of this exposure to the sea air. ith Silvery Sheen. Jt is this that makes the mohair arMi the in so popular. The poplin has a little of going through the elements and coming out unscathed. It cares not a whit for dampness or heavy fog. ‘Then the poplin has such a soft luster and such a pretty way of falling that it has endeared itself to many hearts, This one is of palest sil gray, and falls straight and plain to the feet, touched only by the narrow bands of silver gal- that run down front and sides. A mi- te Bolero jacket, buttoned down to the bodice ts turned back in small revers that are lned with rich, dark green velvet. The fancy galloon edges the collar and the siceve puff also. The fine gray straw that goes with the dress hes an inside gathering of white lace and an outside puffing and looping of white Shifton: Dark green ornaments rise from e white. From Puck. Stranger.—"Can you tell me where Mr. Subbubs lives?’ The New Boy ‘as, sah! He libs right in dat house dai Rastus—Wha’ foh yoh wear such a neck- tle as dat, niggah? Doan yoh know red and green am an inhommonious combination? Jake—Am dat so? Den how "Rout er watermelyon.—Life. THE CLOSE FITTING TENNIS GowN. War is Made on the Tennis Gown That Fits Like a Glove. Perhaps nothing has undergone so com- plete a revolution as has the tennis dress. Once it was simple and straight of skirt and was always topped with a loose, full | blouse. True, it might be brightened by | rows of braid or bits of embroidery, but for | | ® long time it remained substantially the Soon the one And Graceful. m the tennis began to deplore thi fullness of the costume, "She longed ts see herself slender, with dress fitting like a love. Why couldn’t she look pretty there as on the yacht or down by the dress that was often drawn closely across the bust, with no sign of trimmings save ‘the short jacket or the fancy rever that fell over. Sometimes she inserted a. st front in the waist and had long bretellos ht down at the sides. Always, she put big puffs in'the sleeves” If sha mt comfortable, at least she was happy in the thought that she looked perfectly charming. But some sensible girls, true lovers of the sport. have revelied ayainst the tightening the comfortable blouse, and have de- vised a costume not only thoroughly com- fortable, but one that can lay claim to Sraceful lines. This dress shows a skirt of white serge, with four rows of stitching ‘moran Aide edie See at the side streamers, The blouse is of foulard, dahlia eolored, shirred into yoke, and falling owr the silk sash. The full puff By yes causes a sufficiently slender effect at the waist line. ——_+e-+____ A CASINO GOWN. Costames Startling Are Wora at New- port’s “Dutch Treats.” All the possibilities of brilliant coloring are not yet exhausted. Newport is gay this season in its methods of entertaining and in its costumes. The “Dutch treats” every man for himself—have been a great success. After all, there is an inclination ‘to enjoy to the fullest extent that for which one is paying. At a dinner given by one’s best friend criticism is right and proper: one is not expected to have a good time, for the moments are too fully occupied in testing the wines, in comncring the viands with those that were given at the dinner last week, with noting the decorations and with answering the remarks of one’s neighbor, who is almost certain to be a bere. But a “Dutch treat” is a very differ- ent affair. For only congenial spirits con- gvezate, and the spirit of perfect independ- ence that prevails is most satisfactory. it is at these gay and festive occasions that all the powers are brought to bear upon the manufacture of something brill- jant. Here is a gown that shone out this week almost above all others. It was the coloring more than anything else, I verily believe. Lettuce green was the shade of the silk and it was shot with pale yellow. Fine yellow lace was caught up in four fancy half flounces on the skirt, each head- +d with a big velvet chou of purple. The green bodice was almost hidden beneath the lace of the gathered yoke, and the side pieces that came from beneath the arms. Over the full lace sleeve puff rose a pu’ velvet ruffle, end a velvet band encirc! the collar, while a tiny lace ruche peeps over, ——_-e--—____ Escaped From the Alabama. From the San Francisco Chrouicie. ancient craft on 1e cific coast, will go to sea no more. She has fought her last battle egainst wind and water and in a few days at the most will be towed to the marine crematory at California City, where she will be consigned to the flames, She was one of the very few Atherican vessels’ that when chased by’ the ‘pirate Alabama succeeded in making an escape. The Memnon was on her way from Liver- Pool to Boston at the time, and fell in with the Alabama when about half way across the Atlantic. The Alabama concealed her identity until she got within half a mile of the Memnon, when the confederate flag was hoisted to the peak, and the astonished crew of the Yankee bark began to realize the true char- acter of the strange steamer. It was blowing a gale from the northwest at the time and the bark was under her topsails, but'as soon as the yards were squared the men ran aloft sail after sail was loosed and set. The men took no time to cast off the gaskets, everything was knife work, and in almost less time than it takes to tell it the daring Yankee was frend away to the eastward under a cloud of canvas that threatened to tear the masts out of her every minute. Capt. Semmes of the Alabama had no idea that the bark would try to escape, and was below when the prospective prize changed her course and began to make sail. He was quickly on deck, however, and sent shot after shot at the flying Yankee in hopes of crippling her. At the same time the Alabama crowded on all steam and sail, but @ stern chase is a long one, and in a breeze like that the Yankee bark was as fast as the Alabama and just a trifle faster. In spite of everything that Semmes could do the Memnon’ slowly but surely drew pur and as the Ala- ropped farther and farther astern the hopes of the Yankee crew revived. ‘The chase lasted until night, and then the pirate steamer eave it up and hauled off to unt for something not quite so speedy. But if the Alabama gave up the race the Memnon did not, for she never started tack or sheet until she had put several hun- dred miles of ocean between the Alabama and herself. ———_+e2+—____ javed by the Bells. From the San Francisco Bulletin. “I remember,” said an old soldier last Sunday morning, “when church-going bells | much moze distant than those saved the city of Atianta. It is a story 1 never saw in print. “In early Ai 1864, Gen. Sherman had closed in on Atlanta. The eleventh Indiana battery had placed in position with our as- sistance four 61-pound rifle guns to shell the city with heavy artillery, under the command of Gen. John M. Brannan. Our Tegiment, the second Massachusetts, had il a ansenreranrtshsetncsinsmensacnitnasesemsaiin esto iathshiinsahabis tie ascdithisanseeemay FASHIONS FOR MEN. Some of Latest Fads in Neckties; Collars and Waistcoats. From Clothier and Purnisher. The neckwear provender, for variety quality and novelty, exceeds any previous manifestation. The shapes are in the advanced fashoinable small-knot and end effects. ‘The tiable scarfs of gree are made with ample bands and ing, the weight of the rich, costly Bufficing to achieve the Most Ung under the manipulation of the ilk of swelldom. It seems as though the signs and patternings were more bright colorings than heretofore. t weaves ure freely used, and E : FTA i M to. scarfs are the figurings in both the ‘the premier =< are some figured Windsor four-in-hands that te 4 in it knotting that Individuauistc inthe Som hesalin fabie charm of ita ertinde me i Fee #4 i : f fel Hel a | it 1 i | the the closest Collars, The freak element has disappeared the category of the turndown collar, in the separable collars and those to the neglige shirt. There E i | ii if away with. The leading providers of down collars have in the s*yles, and AT oe a Yor with ming dren uiged in by man: the comfort. votaries of ‘swelidom: one g yg oy in cept away by its amp and thus lasts as long as white shirt in the The very latest abi af i 5 ee i | haba Pigskin is the leather used in those priced narrow waist belts. It is an ini tion in the line of fashionable in this form, and has proven the ble belt of the smail widths. It in a shade of light tan. up to last beite in fine leather are imparted, from $2 to $5. The duck belt, amel clasp, and the glove kid also come high. There is, however, an in belt wearing. When the waistcoat is superfluous, synonymous of the neglige. Waistcoats, The fancy waistcoat, for the Mt lends to the summer sul with the natty town-wear and on the hotel piazzas at the summer resorts and at the race o double-breasted waistcoats are fective with the single-breasted sacks are worn open, with a deep roll of lapel. ‘The buff-colorea @uck in which coats and spats were made utilized, as are the drills an Depeeckings. for swell summer ‘sultings, and the ensem- exceedingly dl: aa 5 ' t i I i belt the 4 il i i e i bie ts smart and not near #0 cost! ‘The black satin cravat worn ad ? j i ii : 3 i i 8 H i i : A i £ it Hi f ; if it il i ef._as standing first among induce an agreeable exaltation, no doubt that some wines have an precisely opposite. It is very odd, by way, to notice the difference among who drink wine—some taking it the effect, as they would cating beverage, ‘while others, true wine drinkers, care only for ‘The twilight umines And aloft in the sky There are sermons ‘Too mighty fot mortals to preseb; So life has its lovely ideals ‘Too lofty for language to Teach. Afar on the the sea there's a music ‘That the shore hever Knows in its Test; And in the green of the forest There are choirs that carol So, deep in the heart there's a music And 4 cadence that’s never We. LawREnce had Sunday morning inspection and parade. after which the men of the regiment went | to the hill b “We could see the churches of Atlanta, from the spires of several of which wer floating rebel flags. The batteries were tt position, the guns were shotted, were in, and an officer stey the lanyard to fire the fir lifted his hand the sound of a church ringing the people to worship fell on his ear. “For a moment there was silence. The | officers looked from one to the other, and | the shot was not fired that day. Tr day church-going bell was too mu the twentieth corps of Sh: n's ary. | But on Monday the city got i ooo—__— “Miss Belle, I am sixty-eight, but I have ‘one million im government bonds. Do yeu ak I am too old for you? ‘No, indeed. You're about ten years ee young.”"—Lite,