Evening Star Newspaper, September 2, 1893, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1893—SIXTEEN PAGES. HATS AND BONNETS. New Ideas in Millinery on Old Lines. NO STARTLING CHANGES. Five Sketches of Some New Styles. WHEN FASHIONS CHANGE. the verge of eccen- tricity im this par- ticular there are no startling or in the coming miliin- ery modes. Someshapes have settled into favorites, andthere are a few new ideas on old lines. The continental or N: poleon better suits felt than it did straw, and will be worn in all shades and colors. There is a distinct movement in favor of planning the hat to contrast in color with ‘the costume, while the rule that in style of shape the headgear must harmonize with the dress worn is more imperative than ever. Summer usage of flowers still pre- vails, and with questionable taste. The single victorious, full-blown rose ts again @ startling feature, and, let us hope, one that will not last till snow falls. Purple, in {ts modified tints, red, brilliant and car- poe oo Lessee Lapeer Dagestan tems ht emerald and a rich shade o: jurple is a new Sod noore daring’ Coonbtose tion than any yet made. One that is more artistic ts deep purple and deep red. This, in a little hat justly named sweet pea, has the anchorites of one variety of that flower for its combination of color. It takes the French woman to skillfully “consider the lilies" when she plans a new scheme of color. Hats are trimmed more and more simply, a single tuft of feathers, a rosette, @ single flower often making the entire trimming. ‘The popularity of jeweled buckles has re- vived a “new” fashion from olden time, the cavalier’s hat. This is one of the few novel ideas. A particularty beautiful model is of eminence purple velvet, a low crowned wide brimmed hat, the brim gracefully as if according to {ts own will. A little to truding beyond the buckle. Plume itself sweeps back and to the it bending the brim of the against the hair. This old finely sults the great capes i r Had FE a. > Paris, starts to do any- thing in the “severe English” way she turns Qut something much more hideous than English itself could be. This model is more like a “Billycock” hat than anything else. It of soft rough brown cloth, into some stiffness. Two buttons, which look as if they were skin, but cre not, are set to one side. bat fs dis. sete Gown well on the head, transforms the average woman into something between a newsboy and an Irish ‘Theater hats are still mere butterfly things or fillets. The latter are more and more elaborate, twisted gold jeweled bands When Styles Change. Very rough straw will be worn almost fmto the winter. At the same time an effort will be made to observe “All Saints’ day” as a time for change from fall to winter wear. This comes early in November, and im Paris it marks the adoption of felt, vel- vet and fur, as here Easter used to be the signal for blossoms and new spring toilets. ‘This will hardly amount to more than an effort, for already velvet and felt are of. fered as an immediate change from lace, straw and mull. Plaid, having bad its “run” For m Middle-aged Wearer. fm Gress goods, still shows in millinery. Soft and heavy silk scarfs, with ends tied into points, are coming in. These scarfs are bout a yard long, and are to be passed about a high-crowned rough straw hat, the scart being spread wide at the back, and a four-in-hand knot with its ends in the air made at the side of the front. The scarfs are made in plaids so daring that they suggest the “bandannas” of the southern egress, but the general effect 1s quite as trig as can be. These hats look if “any ome can do that,” but you can't. You can- Rot buy the scarf, and if you could, in-hand knot wit! Might, way. Milliners have long since usurped the Fight to supply the morning cap. In that direction they have widened their field, and now dictate a headdress for miladt she receives in the afternoon. The happiest design for the “matinee coif” is a jeweled net, made square and pinned on the head @iamondwise, with one point at the fore- head and 2 point at each side. The hair is to be colled low. This is harking back to you cannot buy the hat, ‘ou couldn't tie the four- h its legs in the air in the omer me | hen | the net Juliette, Desdemona aud Francesca wore. The same shape is shown in velvet, embroidered richly, but you positively must | They Came in the have a beautiful head and a graceful, low knot of hair. of green glace velvet. It is ornamented with an Alsatian Rnot of metallic black- bird’s wings and topped by a dai ty aigrette tipped with _blackbird’s tufts. Next is a hat intended for autumn outing, made of cream mouseline de sole and trimmed with ostrich feathers and bows of cream satin. The third model fs a bonnet for an older woman and is @ simplc and comfortable one. Made of light green chip, its beauty is enhanced by a large fan of lace fastened by a jet orna- ment, and by a bunch of pink roses placed at each side. The tie strings are of black ribbon velvet. Black could be substituted for the green chip, and for matrons’ wear dark red roses would be preferable to the pink, or almost any other flower could be used. The third bonnet shown, in the fourth illustration, is formed of corn-col- ored ribbon ruching framed by a border of Jet. There is a puff of the ruching in the front, and two small black feathers on the right side for ornamentation, the latter be- ing fastened by a bow of black ribbon. A shape which ts quite novel, and one which 1s much displayed in the stozes, is last por- trayed. Whether it will be seen outside the A New Shape of Hat. shops is still uncertain. It is in black chip and trimmed with an aigrette-like bow of lace and with roses and moss green rib- bons. Black velvet strings fall down the back and fasten at the side beneath one large red rose. The knot of ribbon in front lends an air of newness, and the upright lace bow makes the hat possible for faces which could not bear the effect of the flat hats now so much worn, but which are try- ing to other than small, piquant faces. Hat Trimmings. ‘The trimming of hats will show breadth of effect in front, and this will be quite a dis- tinctive feature of the fall millinery. Fancy feathers and spreading wings will be much used, and despite the efforts of the humane ones, whole birds will be seen again. Jet 4s in evidence in all the devices of mfllinery. It is found in crowns and brims of Both hats and bonnets, makes up whole bonne: forms edges and borders of innumerable pretty lace-like design, and in countless kinds of ornaments. Cut fora ae pe op for some of these purposes, and wings and orn- aments are shown in steel wire as light in {ts effects as lace. Velvet roses promise to be plentiful and no attempt seems to have been made to have their colors follow na- ture. Thus black, brown and green roses springing from as unnaturally hued f hats outdoors even w! A DRAGON FLY OF FASHION. He Comes Straight From Worth and Brings Luck to the Weare: ‘M. Worth must answer for it. It is his will that the young woman of high fashion shall go about in a wrap of lace and velvet Ge that has a big Jet dragon fly embroidered upon it back and front. The sight of it | brings to mind Mr. Walter Besant’s wonder | at seeing real live fire files in the parks of | Albany as he journeyed homeward from Chicago's Congress of Authors. “I always thought,” he says naively, “that fire files belonged in Humboldt’s cosmos and South America.” Perhaps if the gentleman goes to Japan, | strange countries, strange customs for 13 see, he will open his eyes, his mind, wider than even in America, since the land of the chrysanthemum has fire files that’ shame our “lightning bugs” as daylight doth a lamp. brilliant are they indeed as to have a@ distinctly recognized decorative value. In their season the country folk ¢atch them by thousands, and fetch them Into the cities In big bags of fine white tis sue paper to sell them at the rate of six for ten yen—about 2 cents of our money. Each vender has beside a heap of hollow bamboo sticks, great and small. When he has made a sale he opens the bag mouth ever so ‘ittle —puts his own lips to it and catches lightly between them the bugs that crawl out une til he has the requisite number. ‘Then he yuts the lot into a bamboo stick, wraps a Bit of transparent paper over the end des livers it to the. purchaser, who tales it home or to the tea garden, where he may be entertaining a friend. In the latter case he has perhaps bought a hundred fire flies, As dusk sets tn they are liberated in the shrubbery, making the finest fairy lamp illumination of it. This is especially the custom if the guests are foreign, since there fs nothing more pleasing to the. well-bred Japanese than to show to the outer barba- Hans some quaint phase of his own high Civiltzation, The tn: s, it is said, are fully six times as brilliant as those which add charm to American summer nights. A single one gives ght enough to tell the time by the wateh, and three lightly fastened to fine bamboo splints make a frame positively dazzling against the measmee’s night black hair. That is the limit—she never ventured upon more—and will often content. herself with a single one stuck at a most fetching | angle Just above the left ear. —coo—_—___ Under the British Flag. From the New York Herald. A baby was born in the state of New York the other day, and yet was born un- der the British flag, and it was this way. Out of the district of South Brooklyn, near Bay Ridge, there is quite a colony of Eng- lish people, and some are as strong in their patriotism or prejudices as if they still lived } in the old country. To one of these a little | girl was born the other day, and the admir- | ing neighbors came to view the infant. | _&N ou have a little American’ citi- ."* cried the friends. Not at all," said the mother, “we took the precaution to spread the Union Jack | over the top of the bed, so my baby was born under the English flag.” In this fasion was Uncle Sam cheated of @ prospective citizeness. TAILS OF WOE. Silk, Satin. Lace and Jet, Besides Plain Cloth. Alack and alas! strange styles came to Dass, especially this year of ungrace, when everywhere on honor’s head honors accu- mulate A late manifestation is the two- fold edge, heretofore dominant upon sweet woman's shoulders, how it has declined and fallen to her hips—more accurately the tails of her jacket—which, in late models, appear im three contrasting stuffs and colors—a ‘brown velvet, black lace and tan cloth. It 1s impossible that Fashion, the jade, has got an economical twist in her autumn mind, but beyond question the fearful mode is full of potent possibilities, for the changing and refurbishing of passee garments. And why should they not be refurbished, since a so- ¢ial philosopher lays clothes and women are as old as they look. ‘The axiom is perhaps as true as axioms usually are. For the most part they are specious generalizations, with a boomerang habit of hitting those who launch them. An English judge, though, some years back, decided a case in strict’ consonance with the principle here laid down. Suit was brought for annulment of a marriage be- tween a young fellow of twenty-two and his bride of forty-seven, the plaintiff alleging that, by false statements and the arts of the toilet, the lady had passed herself off for twenty-five. In court she did not look a day beyond that, so judgment was at once given in her favor, the learned judge repeat- ing In substance, with much legal verbiage, the time-honored apothegm that a woman is always the age she looks, a man the age he feels. Apropos of which, when all the world stood chuckling over the Burdett-Couts- Bartlett marriage an American woman who had met Miss Couts socially said: ‘There is really an unsuitability of age, but nothing like the contrast In looks you ‘would imag- ine. I saw both of them in London at a garden party there, and, though 1 am rea- sonably keen sighted, if I had not known their relative ages I would not have thought her more than five years his senior. Sne: you see, was never youthfully handsome,but went on to a splendid middle age—she has never let herself get beyond that—while he —well, as men do look who have gone the pace. Of course, she might have been his mother—his grandmother, almost—but such marriages are not at all uncommon in Lon- don high life. Perhaps it {s an echo from the days of George the IV, who, it is well known, toward the last cared for’ no woman under sixt; ———_—_+-e-____ FOR A BRIDE. Especially if She Has the Wisdom of Experience, the Witchery of Widow- hood. For a bride—-or any other woman—tall, slender and fair enough to swathe herself for a journey in a pearl-gray silk dust cloak, with touches of lavender lining here and there and a high lace ruff about the throat. It needs A daughter of the gods, divinely tall And most divinely fair. Otherwise th restilt i @ figure of fun, cal- culated to make fashion angels—supposing there are such things—weep, and some men swear good mouthfilling oaths of the most able-bodied profanity. A dumpy woma indeed, in such a rig is far and away ugller than home-made sin. All the same, that she will wear it goes without saying, for her sort inclines always in dress to do with neatness and dispatch the things it should not do, and to leave undone those things that it should. Why? Oh, that is among the things that no fellow can find out, particularly no good fellow who by mistake or chance or fate got put into petticoats. There are such Scattered here and there upon the planet— and their lot is hard indeed. For nature makes them feel the heavy yoke of inven- tion, that “least and most followed of all laws natural.” They rebel against limita- tions that seem idle as air, yet are fettering as steel bands, and cry almost for the use of their fevered ears, eyes, hands, organs, dimensions. Given the ability, they yearn to tickle the world so it laughs or touch it 80 It weeps, or open its eyes to the beauty, the shame, the splendor, the squalor that Ne all about it. That is to say, they are creatures of normal aspiration, and find the petticoat a mighty hindrance to any sort of climbing. Aside from their own case they suffer on the side of sympathy. It is so many thou- sand pities, you see, to look on helpless, while other women who if they but knew and did the right thing would be charrhing or useful or beautiful, give their whole mind to making themselves 4 missing and an offense to eye and ear and soul. The good fellow feminine hates littleness, envy, malice and ali undharitableness. She is a good hater, t food fighter and fair as She ‘would g.uch rather do a good | turn than an ill «g* to any soul alive, yet | can upon occasi#i tuzn and rend in a fashion to be rem#@nbered. She would wake a winter night or go a mile about any time to serve another woman who deserved it— and do twice as much when time served to make things interesting for one who had maliciously trod on the corns of her mind. ———————————___ A Noble Tt From the Indianapolis Journal. Her friend—“I thought you were going to marry a man with a title or forever re- | main single.” Mrs. Nuwedde—“He has a title, I beg leave to inform you. Vhat is ft. pra “Ducksy darling. self.” I gave it to him my- | for the Potomac site. NATIONAL CAPITAL.| Nine Different Cities Have Had the Honor OF BEING THE SEAT OF GOVERNMENT. How the Decision Was Finally De- termined Upon. CHRISTENED BY WASHINGTON. ‘Written for The Evening Star. PROPOS THE COM- ing centennial cele- bration of the found- ing of our federal Capitol in Washing- ton on the 1%th in- stant, for which elab- orate preparations are now making, it ts interesting to recall that this government in its history has had no less than nine dif- ferent seats of na- tional legislation since the heroes of 1716 threw off the English yoke. ‘The cities of Philadelphia, Pa.; Baltimore, Md.; Lan- caster, Pa.; York, Pa.; Princeton, N. J.; Annapolis, Md; Trenton, N. J.; New York city and !astly Washington have all in turn served as the home of Congress, the visible center of the government and the sanctu- ary of its laws. During the revolution the sessions of Congress were held at the most convenient points permitted by the exigen- cles of the war, the temporary capital be- ing moved about from time io time and from place to place as occasion required. Under the old regime of the Continentai Congress, and later under the articles of confederation, the same anxiety and rivalry existed among the different thirteen states for the honor of having Congress sit within thelr respective territories as were expori- enced after the Constitution was adopted and before the permanent federal city was located in its present delightful situation on the banks of the Potomac. Offers in the Continental Days. In the old continental days the state of New York had offered the towa of Kinzs- ton for the abiding place of the American government, Rhode Island had tendered Newport, Maryland had proposed her cap- ital city, Annapolis, and Virginia had prof- fered Williamsburg. In October, 1783, while in session at Philadelphia, Congress was grossly insulted by a band of mutincers, and hastily adjourned for safety to Prince- ton, N, J. This incident called the atten- tion of the early iaw makers more per- tnently than anything that had happened before to the necessity of providing a per- manent capital, where the operations of Congress would’ not suffer interference and disturbance by outside influences. The svb- ject accordingly was taken up with vizor, and in 178, while Congress sat at Trenton, an ordinance was passed authorizing three commissioners to purchase soll und ‘ay out a federal town on the banks of the River Delaware and to enter into contracts for erecting “in an elegant manner” the neces- sary government buildings. Shortly after- ward repeated attempts were made to re- peal the act and to substitute the Potomac for the Delaware, and the result. was that the commissioners never exercised the powers conferred on them and nothing was done in the matter. For several years thereafter, until the adoption of the Censtitution at Philadel- phia in 1787, the delegations from Massa- chusetts, New York, Virginia and Georgia strongly’ favored lccating the federal city at Georgetown on the Potomac, while the delegations from New Jersey. Pennsylvania, Delaware and Maryland stiffly opposed the Project. Again nothing was done, but when the old federation gave place to the Union and the new government with Washington as President got under way the plan which eventually resulted in the cession of the Present District of Columbia by Virginia and Maryland was formulated and sub- Virginia legisia- miles square in any part of its territory that Congress might choose, and as a bonus proposed to ad- vance the sum of $120,000 toward erecting public buildings. The assembly of Mary- land seconded the proposition and agreed to cede a supplemental tract and to fur- nish $7200 toward the building fund. The acceptance ese offers was uously dx. states, particularly by lew York, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. New York and P had gratui- tously supplied “elegant a1 ventent ac- commodations” for the government's use during the eleven years Congress had been located in New York city and Philadelphia, and they offered to continue to do so, New Jersey urgently invited Congress to settle at Trenton, and the citizens of Baltimore Promised to furnish all the money needed for federal buildings if Congress would select their city for the seat of govern- ment. ‘There was much division of sentiment as to the relative advantages of these places, The representatives of South Carolina strongly objected to Philadelphia because of the number of Quakers there, who, they said, were eternally dogging the southern members with their schemes of emancipa- tion. The Massachusetts and New York dele- gations scouted the idea of building palaces in unknown woods as proposed by the ad- vocates of the Potomac site. Representa- tive Page declared that New York city w: superior to any place he knew for the or- derly and decent behavior of its inhabi- tarts. The Choice Narrowed Down. Later on the choice narrowed down be- tween the eastern banks of the Susque- hanna in Pennsylvania—supposed then to be near the center of wealth, population and territory—and the banks of the Poto- mac, and bills in behalf of each of these propositions were offered, exciting extreme bitterness and sectional jealousy. The Vir- ginians were especially Clamorous that the Potomac be selected, and when, on Septem- ber 5, 1789, a bill passed the House of Rep- resentatives locating the permanent seat of government on the Susquehanna the Vir- ginians took {t so greatly to heart that Mi Madison, then in Congress, declared that if this action could have been foreseen by Vir- |ginia that state might not have become a party to the Constitution. The bill was subsequently amended by the Senate by striking out the clause referring to the Sus- quehanna and substituting for it a prov sion naming Germantown, near Philadel- phia, in case the state of Pennsylvania or its citizens should give security to pay $100,- 000 toward erecting the necessary public buildings. These amendments were con- curred in by the House with the seemingly innocent proviso that the laws of Pennsyl- vania should continue in force in the dis- trict selected until Congress should other- wise direct. In this shape the bill was again sent to the Senate, but the considera- tion of the House amendment was post- poned until the next session. Just there is where the legislative slip was made and the golden opportunity was lost. Although Germantown was thus actu- ally agreed upon by both Houses, yet on count of the trifling amendment tacked on by the House the whole bill failed. On the Potomac. During that constructive era the early fethers were in sore straits. Alexqnder Hamilton, Secretary of the Treasury, in- sisted that {t was necessary for the per- fection of his system of finance and for the life of the new republic that the federal government should assume the indebted- ness of the thirteen states. The southern members, particularly those from Virginia and South Carolina, violently opposed it, and, as Jefferson tells us in his letters, even threatened secession and dissolution. In the House of Representatives the prop- osition wes lost by a few votes and Ham- flton was in despair. In this emergency he sought the assistance of Jefferson, and the two together, with the aid of Washing- ton, succeeded in’ straightening out the situ- ation. Jefferson on his part undertook to exert his influence on the Virginia recal- cltrants and have them change their votes in favor of assumption, while Hamilton, perceiving with the shrewdness of genlus the good use that could now be made of the capital-site project, assumed the task of inducing the eastern members to vote At his instance the Germantown bill which had_ failed was taken up and amended by dropping out Germantown and inserting Potomac, the language reading “on the Potomac, at some place between the mouths of the Eastern branch and the Cor-ogocheague.” With the co-operation of * bert. Morris, then Senator from Pennsylvania, Hamilton effected his share of the agreement by hav- ing this bill successfully carried through both Houses of Congress in July, 1790. The Virginia kickers in their turn reconsidered their previous adverse action and cast their yotes in favor of assumption of the state war debts, Some Doggerel Rhymes. In this way assumption was carried, and the Potomac got the Capitol. By the terms of the Potomac act Philadelphia was to be the temporary seat of government until the year 190, and after that, as Representative Wolcott expreased it, the capital was to £0 permanently “to the Indian place with the long name on the Potomac,” where the pe- cuniary and territorial offers made by the commonwealths of Virginia and Maryland were to be availed of. The ten-year con- cession to Philadelphia, it would be ob- served, was intended, as Jefferson tells us, “as an anodyne,” to “calm in some de- gree the ferment which might be excited by the other measure alone—that relating to the Potomac and Connogocheague. This picturesque but formidable-looking Indian name was pronounced Conny-go-chig, rhym- ing with big, jig, and pig. The creek Con- nogocheague was, and still is, an obscure stream rising in the northern part of Franklin county, Pa., and flowing south- ward to Williamsport, in Washington coun- ty, Md., where it joins the Potomac. Con- Stress at that time was holding its sessions in New York, and the metropolitan news- Papers of the day abounded in quaint Squibs and quirks and jibes and doggerel rhymes at the expense of the unfortunate creek. In one of these performances Gotham servant girl is represented as an- rere to a friend in correspondence “Since you writ us, ‘The ee and court have determined to quit us and then, as referring to her master’s feel- ings on the subject thus: “He hopes and prays they may die in = stal If they leave us in debt for Federal Hall; In fact, he would rather saw timber or dig Than see them removing to Connogo- cheague, Where the houses and kitchens are yet to be framed, ‘The trees to’ be felled, and the streets to be named.” Another piece,entitled “Virginia to Massa- chusetts,” illustrates the sectional jealousy then existing in relation to the prominent men who had been concerned in the selec- tion of the capital site: Roget resid give over the making a ther, ‘About the Potomac, about the Potomac; We speak not in fun, ‘tis as sure as a sun, You there shall smoke shoemack,you there shall smoke shoemack. And you, Mr. Gerry, be not quite so merry About Connogocheague, about Connogo- cheague: For your dull, punning Jeers, your mobs and your fears We cure not a fig, we care not a fig. In turn, Massachusetts is thus made to reply to Virginia: “Ye noddies! how noozled, perplexed and bamboozled Are ye of Potomac, are ye of Potoma Ye had better be found at your homes, safe and sound, A-smoking of shoemack, a-smoking of shoemack. The Uniow you'd sever for sake of your ver, And give up assumption, and give up as- sumption; There's White, and there's Lee, and there's Maryland's G. “Wise men al of gumption! ‘The Federal City Christened. But the “noddies” had their river and their shoemack and the capital besides, al- though not quite on the Connogocheague, amd they could well afford to accept good- humoredly the thrusts almed at them In the last extract. And Connogocheague, more- over, was not destined to be a perpetual sumption, wise men all joke. It dropped out of sight completely in @ short time, and the federal city with pre- nt fitness was christened “Washing- ton” by order of the first District Commis- stoners. There is a tradition that the confederated tribes of Manahoacs and Monocans, the In- dians who inhabited the territory now em- braced in the District of Columbia when the first English settlements were made in Vir- ginia, used to hold their annual campfires and barbaric councils on the very spot where Congress now meets. In 1633 the ground was occupied by a canny Scotchman named Pope, who facetiously called his plantation “Rome” and named the little creek that formerly flowed across it, now filled up, “The Tiber.” Is it not a reason- able expectation that the city of Washing- ton on the Potomac and the government planted here may yet altogether outshine the glories of the republic Rome on the ‘Tiber. JOHN D. CREMER. ——— +++ —____ CHOLERA AND MOHAMMEDANISM. The Spread of the Disease Traced to Oriental Pilgrimages. From the Deseret (Salt Lake City) News. ‘The ravages of the cholera in the orient and in some Mediterranean ports has again drawn the attention of the puvtle to some religious rites pecullar to the Mohammedan world and to which it is thought much of the dreaded epidemic can be traced. Every year, in the last month of the Moham- median year, thousands of pilgrims gather to worship in Mecca. It is not true that they are a particularly filthy set. On the contrary, they compare favorably with the thousands of Christian pilgrims who flock to the Holy Land. Their religion pre- scribes cleanliness to exaggeration almost, and the pilgrims, above all others, follow the precepts to the letter. Yet the crowd- ing together of so many thousands, the ab- sence of sanitary regulations and the trop- leal heat of the country are very favor- able to disease. But the really dangerous feature of the whole matter is the custom of offering sac- rifices as a grand finale to the pilgrimage. When the black stone at Mecca has been kissed and the thirst is quenched by the water of the well Zemzem, in memory of Hagar’s wandering in the desert, the dev- otees go to the mountain Ararat to leten to a sermon. In the valley Mina, where, according to Mohammedan tradition, Abra~ ham was about to slay Isaac, the great sa: ritice takes place. Thousands of animals are gathered together. The wealthy pil. grims kill one camel or more. Some chalifs are sald to have slaughtered a thousand of these animals. But even the poorest will sacrifice a sheep. And not only in this val- ley, but all over the Mohammedan world the day is celebrated with sacrifices. It is the “great feast,” or the Kurban Belram, the “feast of sacrifices” of the followers of the oriental prophet. The result is easily imagined in places where the salt waves of the sea do not wash away the blood and the remains of the killed animals. The stench in a few hours becomes almost unbearable. And no wonder that the public slaughter places become the receptacles of dangerous germs that only need favorable winds to be carried over Europe and Asia. In later years the Turkish and Egyptian governments have endeavored to prevent the danger by prescribing certain rules and regulations, but these do not go far enough. ‘The effective remedy would be the estab- lishment of crematories in the places where the sacrifices are slain, and we believe the sultan could easily be persuaded to have such erected if proper argument was used. The civilized world which is threatened by the cholera has a perfect right not to compel the Mohammedans at the point of the bayonet to cease-one of their religious practices, but to surround it with such safe- guards as not to make it an incessant menace to the health of the rest of man- kind. —+-o+ ____. The Point of View. From the Chicago Tribune. Harry—Mamma, can I go and play with Tommy Bonser?* His Mother—“I think you ought to be particular about the company you asso- ciate with, dear. What kind of a boy is Tommy Bonser?" Harry—“He's the best little boy in town, mamma. Harry's Father—“Then he has no busi- ness to be playing with you, my son.” —_-+e2.—_____ From Puck. Puck's Latest Device ror Wide-Brim- med Ha THE STORY OF A MAN! AS TOLD AT THE PRESS OLUB BY A REPORTER WHO KNEW BOTH SIDES. , I DON'T KNOW but what the colonel is right; we see some very curious things in this profession of ours. I am often tempted to think that it would make a really interesting story if @ reporter would some time simply write out an account of a singie experiences and tell all he sees with- out adding even a tinge of romance. First of all the very variety of the life has certain charm for the uninitiazed, who have an {dea that it must be delightful to be be- hind the scenes in everything, as they hike to put it. As though it was always pleasant to see things stripped of all roman: Now it is right there that I take issue with what the colonel has just said. It is not well to have everything laid bare. would rather have some of the gilt left on my ginger bread. I want a little romance in mine. I would like to go all through life nd have some of the illusions of youth left when I get through; and here I ara not yet thirty, not by several years, and the few ideals’ that I managed to bring with me through college have been escaping ever since so fast that I have hardly been able to see them go. That’s why I am tempted to quit journalism—thanks, mean the news- paper business, of course. Now, I have @ story to tell that illustrates the point J am making. Talking is not much in my Ine, however, and 1 have often thouzht I ought to write’what I have to say. Still, if some- body will stand a mug of ale I'll tell it any- way. Thanks, judge, here's to you, and here goes. Well, to begin with, I suppose you boys all remember that fellow Harrington who died B couple of weeks ago and had such a big funeral. The papers gave a good deal o space to it at the time, for his family amount to a good deal, even if he didn’t, peace to his ashes. He was a pretty lively youth and they do say that che way he made the paternal ducats fly was « caution to fathers and I’ve no doubt he has fui nished the text for many a sermon to way- ward youth since he left us. ile set a fast pace and every one knew he couldn t k it up long, but he had a good time while lasted. The way 1 came to get on to his story Was a very natural one. The day after he died our city e@litor called me into his room and told me he wanted me to do the funeral and to give it & good write-up, you know. “He never did anything in particular,” re- marked the man of the shears and paste pot, “but his father is an old-time friend of the governor's, so I po we can stand about half a column if you can get it in early enough. The ceremony is a’ o'clock. You can write your stuff up in the organ loft, and if you have one of the boys come SB there after your copy you ought to be able to get a good story down in time for the second edition. There’s nothing on the book for you this evening, so you needn't come back to the office.” It was a great show, and I flatter myself that we had fairly good account of it that afternoon. Pretty much all of the west end was there, and I could have filled half a column with the names of prominent people in the congregation if I had wanted 0. I was through my work and had my stuff on its way to the office long before the cer- emony was over, but I stayed on because I wanted to see just how far the minister would go in his remarks about the departed brother. De mortuis and the rest of it is all well enough, but I think they carry it too far sometimes. Then, you know up at that church they have an organist that can fairly make that big organ of his talk, and ery, too, when he feels that way; and I like nothing better than to sit up there in the loft when he is playing away #0 that he fairly forgets that there is any one else in the church. After the congregation has all gone he sits there by the hour and plays to himself as though it was his only pleasure and solace in life. He's a queer old chap. I don’t suppose he ever had much fun out of life, but somehow I like him, and every time I am sent up there to report the bishop's sermons 1 make DE point to stay heats, after. my o . could sit inete™ for hours and hear him talk, 10 me with his music. There Ss ly ever anyt ively or hopeful about it but it touches medn Sime rensi- tive place, and it makes me feel sure tha! there is some story in his life if one could only get at it. It would make a good special, I know, and I’m going to try to get it sometime, He has no family. Of that I am certain, but somehow he seems to take the greatest interest in young people, and I've noticed that he always plays his best at weddings. He does not often talk much, but that day after every one had gone I got him started by asking him if he had known anything about the young man who was dead. At first he did not seem inclin- ed to talk, but finally, after he had been wandering over the keys for some time, making music that was infinitely sad, and as if it was full of tender memories, he turned part way about on his stool and told me a story that I shall never forget. I do not know whether it was true, but at any rate it was worth the hearing, for it taught me a lesson that was worth the learning. It showed me that there are always two ways at least of looking at the same thing. and who can say which is the better way ‘There was something very impressive in the scene to me. By the time he had fin ished the church was almost dark, and all the light there was came through the stain- ed glass windows and gave a melancholy tinge to it all. One ray from the setting sun as it broke throug the clouds fell fair upon the old man’s head and gilded his snow white hair until he looked almost young again. The lines in his face seemed to fade away as he talked along in his low, Sweet voice. For a time I almost forgot the realities of the world outside and w Jost in the enthusiasm and fervor of the ol musician's story. I can give you a pretty good idea of what the old man said, for it made @ deep impression on me at the time, and I thought then that I would write it up some time. But I haven't. It would seem almost a sacrilege to treat his ideal any less earnestly than he did. I couldn't write that sort of a story, anyway, but I'll try to tell it to you just as he told it to me. . : : : . Yes, I can tell you his story, now that he 1s dead—poor boy—so full of ‘ife and hope and promise that it seems ulmost as though it could not be. I must have grown to love him more than I knew, for now that he ts dead I feel in- deed that I have lost a friend. Yet I never knew him, never even spoke to him. He was a young man, while my youth has gone so far into the past that it seems as though I never had been young. He was a man of | the world, with many friends, and what am I but a poor old tired-out musician, living | by adding what little I can to the pleasure of others? I have looked upon his face for the last time. He is dead, and they have | carried him forth from this great church, where his friends were gathered together to show as best they could the love and re- spect they bore him. We heard the min- ister say those wonds of consolation and | hope, old, yet ever new, “I am the resur- rection and the life.” What more could he have said? Now all are gone and you and I are left alone up here, I with my thoughts and the memories of other years that come flood- | ing over me. The licht from those rich colored windows is already beginning to fade away and these evening shadows give an added gloom to this dreary place. N. one of all that crowd that was so lately here ever gave a thought to the ol4 musi- clan, and yet It seems to me that T knew | him better than any of them. T knew his hopes and fears and I knew what the sor- Tow was that spoiled his life and made him lad to dit. There was one other, but she Jearned It when it was too laa. I saw her, too, today. She was pale and sad-eyed and when the voice of the singer rang out rich and clear, bearing aloft the words of that sweet hymn of hope, “And 1s this all’ I felt somehow that she was weeping and that she knew it was not all. I remember so well the first time that T saw her. She was but a girl then, just growing Into womanhood, and I was one of the musicians who played at the ball given in honor of her first appearance in society. Yes, she was what they call a society’ girl, ‘but she looked to me like one who was made to lead and not to follow others, Well born, rich and beautiful, lite must have looked’ very fair to her. I re- member she was spoken of as the most successful debutante of the season. She was beautiful, of that there was no doubt, | with dark hair and eyes that would start a man to Improvising wild and noble music, with passionate and tender strains, but with here and there a jarring note, for there was a something about her eyes that | 1| ist seem: ut dia Ha HE igh: i ri 3 | or mar a life, of account and screened, flowers and foliage, are and most interesting fe is this of ours.go1 ear and that would have sounded and poor compared to the sweet strains she was perhaps already hearing. Ah, me, what a deal an old man has seen: and yet that boy who is now in his last resting place knows more of the great rid- die of life ‘and death than one ‘can ever life on earth. “In a moment, in the ‘wining of an eye,” said the min- ter. But I am wandering from iw ne id his story. met. From 4 pered that one or two had reason to wish they had never met her. I did not Uke her a8 well as I did when I first knew her. 1 am old, and I may have been a little cyn- ical, but it seemed to me as though her something of its girlish frankness. She had been too popular and the result was she was spoiled. He was very young, and a certain hon- est boyish look in his face made him look even younger than he was. As you prob- ably know yourself, he was better built for books end work’ than for the ways of society. but his pleasant manner and his sincerity I suppose must have made him hosts of friends. And so they met. I remember it was during an interval between the dances. They were standing close to our corner when a mutual friend went through that curious formality that is necessary in a civilized society before any two of God's creatures may even recognize the fact of each other's existence. They stayed to- gether for an hour and it was evident they liked each other very well. That was but the first of many meetings. He was evi- dently fascinated and he never lost an op- portunity of being with her. I do not think she was ever in earnest; perhaps she did not realize how far along they were drifting with the tide. At any race it was not long before it must have been clear to the dullest onlooker that he had lost his heart to her; and he was the sort of man to win or to lose everything. It may all be true enough that the world loves a lover but it's equally true that it has but little sympathy and feeling for a man who has given his all in love and has received nothing in return. No man dies of love nowadays, they say, and per- haps they did not die when I was yo they just lived on and tried to forget it. One night late in that same winter 1 Saw them together at a great ball that was quite the event of the year. She was the gayest of the gay, and no one else was as fair as she, with a great red rose buried in the ‘wealth of her dark another on the breast of her white gown. waiched them with a closer attention usual that night, but them from the throng of were gone some time, an coming in from the great beyond. She had his arm, not speaking, and there ed look about his eyes sadder to me then tears. He slipped away jater without being observed, and I him no more for many a day. So time passed on and they had well nigh gone from my thoughts, until one night @ couple of years later this old church was briliiantly lighted and filled with all the wealth and fashion of town. It was per- | neck aches, and | sera i i fit Hil ge seeeth really quite mi pn Goh Know much about, ch juntly said the rich poor horse, have never hauled fine ladies their carriages. 1 supposed by have seen them petting you with ti white hands that they wouldn't to be dressed up so you would be fortable or suffer by ii “Oh, they don’t think,” rich horse; “they doubtlens @ very fine time with nothing draw ‘this pretty doll's only have my choice I lj i] ag is g H ¢~ to iri £ rill i } * exert spirit, and ‘e as check rein, the blood was ‘starting mouth. “Is it the check your mouth bleed?” horse. 4 5; i Hi ll HF ai by if i fi Very often fil fT} i i V-e-1-y-t-¥-1-a-D-n-¥ comes in with a black bottle f é i 44 i H ! if rie : i i bef 8 a d E a a id 4 : d if wnt was it, and she had that night a and satisfied smile that added to grace and beauty, if not to her woman- ly sweetness. Once I thought she gave a hasty glance up into the organ loft, and as she did so I saw her face grow strangely white and a look of pain come into her eyes. It was but for a moment, however, and then it passed away as suddenly as it had come. I turned once more to my key board, and as I glanced around I caught a hasty glimpse of a young man’s figure and a sad white face almost hidden away among the palms that filled the organ loft. I knew then, and understood it ail. Two years later she came back alone. I saw her one bright morning riding in the park. She was not in mourning. but she looked tired and worried and any- thing but a happy woman. I imagine she had not found life much to her liking. Per- haps she had but herself to blame for it. but was she any the less to be pitied for that? She done as many another young girl has done, and as they will con- tinue to do through all time. She had but lived up to the teachings of her little world, and had made about as much out of her life as she had been taught to do. A butter- ould do but poorly in harness, you I saw him, too, not long ago—no, not her husband, but the other one. he had been off in the mountains in the far west, working hard in that open, free life that is so close to the heart of Mother Nature, and striving, 1 suppose, to forget. But there are some ghosts that ‘will not be laid. To me the fact that he had nursed Sroor, sheep bender through a long illness, and then had fallen ill himself and had been vainly knocking at death's door for mreplg,, did not altogether account for his pitiable condition. Tt may have done so With the rest, but it is my opinion that he did not care very much to live. And so I was not much surprised last night when the old sexton came to me and told me that my services would be needed at the ehurch today was here, and I saw her, off in a dark corner of the church, where no one could have noticed that solitary figure, clad all in black and at times shaken by her silent emotion. Upon the black cc ing of the box above the young man’s breast I noticed two great blood-red rc You say that I played with unusual fe ing today? Ah, but I was trying in my own r way to bring comfort to one saddened eart and to tell to the two that I knew and had pity. When she came down the aisle just now, after all the rest had left, I saw that she wore two red roses on her breast. I think, perhaps, he knows now and is happy, < SEER And that, boys, is the old musician's story, just as he told it to me. You can | have it for what it is worth. At any rate, it throws a new light on that young fel- low’s life, and who can say but what he was right? At least side, worse luck to m Not So Strange. Browning, King & Co.'s Mlustrated Monthly. he saw the better 1 heard that | "Oh, well, "you don't much herd Trork, to do,® aid the rich poor hores: “wos ought to appreciate that and make the SP coamge places with you at time,” the poor rich horse. “May foal because I am so tied back and ing fe relieve my aching muscles and Then they. put on the ‘Dearing, en on is no better And then when bie horses grow old and lose spirit, we are sols to somebody wh Me are not used to labor muscles, and can’t pull heavy loads and we exposure and all sorts of other when the least prepared for ae ae TER ti a Fe be. aunt Gol ‘ay tor alter Just then the drayman came with some nubbins of corn. The eay mounted his box and with a crack of his whip sent the poor rich horse hose on his master’s Peoulder and what he had heard about poor rich and the two jogged off together the friends in the world. ——— A COSTLY CcockTram. Ne Expense Spared in Serving Meme bers im a California Club. ‘From the Sen Francisco News-Letter. The University Club gives all pleasure and comfort possible to the members. A member came down to breakfast « few days ago quite early. As he took his seat at the table it occurred to him that a #ock- fall would make him somewhat happier d give him additional appetite nis meat He therefore told John to get him & cocktail. The boy wen! room, but found the locked. He was then in 2 quandary. He did not want to it Bieta soe Ses the steward and anked his advice “Wine room's locked, eh?” said thet tim portant functionary. “The gentleman said he wanted the ock- tail, before breakfast, eh?” “Well, then, I'll tell you what you have to do “You know ‘the invariable rule ts this club is to give the members what they ask for, mo matter what it costs. Row that cock! ou go and Teak in ‘ve door ot te wine room and pro duce the drink.” 2 Reicaswail % Werehans Seles A few days later the member was in the Teading room, when he was oy a member of the house “you had a cocktail at breakfast area fine one, too ‘es—fine one, too.” ‘Weil, 1t should have been. Do you know what that cocktall cost the club?” “Cost the club? No; usual rates, 5 up “No, sir; that cocktall cost us just Sm Droken in just to get you your cocktat en in just you $e, reves ir the damages we had to pay just "Ie that so?” said the surprised Griuicer, ot Mian't know anything shout thet. Pua it was a good ‘tail, though; let's another.” SS ey “JEST LIKE BANNERS That Unfortunate Woman Waa Always Forgetting Something. From the Detroit Free Press. “Hey! hey!” he called in front of @ | Grand River avenue grocery the other day |as he stopped his team. A ch “Bring ‘em in and I'll see.” ‘The farmer turned around on his seat and looked the wagon box over, but there Bas nothing to be seen but « bridle, whic needed mending. “Bring ‘em in.” continued the clerk. “Jersuhy to Jackson! but T hain't get blamed one! exclaimed the farmer. Send I've driv nine miles to sell ‘leven Gesem aigs and the aigs fs to home!” Forgot “em, eh?” Hanner brought ‘em “That's what I did! ‘out to the barn and sot ‘em down on the fanning mill, and T hitched up and never looked ‘to see if they was in the wegont Jest like Hanner! She never knowed nyth- in’ to begin with, and she's knowed less Seer, day since. “Wall, if they hain't here they hain't, and T'll take a plug of tobacke er and git my bridle fixed and jog back. = 4 cial Stringency. cago De. This comes in from @ Dearborn street? bank A citizen called to see the president of the bank and had a private conversation “2:nbel, your conduct is utterly inexplicable, To think of refusing Lord Algernon Crestfallen and accepting that young lawyer Coke, who will give you two dresses a year and take you to live in a iat!” actly, mamma. You see I thonght living in a fiat for three or four years better than liv- ing with one for life.” of several minutes. “Do you think.” he asked, “the stringen- cy Js as stringent as some say?” The ‘president was decidediy "optimistic. He declared that so far as ‘was oon- cerned he had always taken a cheerful view of the situation these certificates are worth asked the citizen most sere iy all means. Good as bullion.” ‘You would take "em?" As fant as they came at me.” en the citizen went into his podket and pulled out a half dozen worn each of which certified that the article pawned was worth so much. The batker undertook to explain the difference between three ball certificates and silver certificates, but the citizen went away sorrowful,