Evening Star Newspaper, September 9, 1893, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. 0, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9, 1893—-SIXTEEN PAGES CONTRAST OF COLORS The Fashionable Flare at Skirt Hem and Shoulders. PANIERS ARE IN THE AIR. po oe Ee ee Some Becoming Costumes for the Fashionably Inclined. -__ FEATURES OF THE CHIGNON. NEW YORK, Sept. 8, 1898. KIRTS ARE MADE "} so full all of a sud- Re den at the very hem that the edge flutes Rup and down and the i! prettiest effect in the world ts secured by a S) deep facing of silk in 5 a color contrasting to that of the skirt itself. There is a piquancy about the - glimpse each step causes of this other ww color that is more f) subtie than the fip of the erstwhile silk * petticoat. For one thing the flip must be more or less premedt- tated and conscious, while the other effect the girl need know nothing about. A skirt of a dull brown is thus faced with soft old rose, and worn with an old rose shirt waist. Or, more brave in effect, the shirt waist may be soft blue and the glint of rose at the foot of the gown may be like the flowers that bloom in the spring, and have nothing to do particularly with any osher color ef- fect. An elegant example of fashfonable flare attained both at skirt hem and shoulders is that portrayed in the initial picture. ‘This costume is made of green faille and has the skirt in two parts, lined through- out with silk. The lining of the waist is tight, over which the silk ts draped and folded as shown. The yoke-like top is out- lined with ecru lace insertion, back and front being alike. The bretelles end in a point in front and are edged with lace that crosses in front. The standing collar is of ecru lace, and the puffed sleeves are gar- ished with lace insertion. A jet girdle ornamented with three rows of large jet buttons is worn. ==\ SS SN SS SSSSS Trimmed Alike at Waist and Skirt Hem. Panters are in the air. The bretelles and ruffles have overflowed at the shoulders and @ppear on the hips, and if woman was an Impressive object before, with her great sleeves and shoulder fluffs, what will she be when epaulettes @ppear on the hips! Lit- tle tabs are made on several elegant gowns shown, at the hips, like epaulettes. These are edged with or even quite covered with Mttle rules. The gown most bravely car- fying out the idea is a biack, dull silk—trust the dress designers for venturing a new idea frst in biack. The skirt widens to- ‘Ward the bottom, and is short. The sleeves are very large at the shoulders and close cuffs extending to above the elbow. A sort of fichu of black tulle 1s worn with the Bown. It has elaborated epaulcttes, covered ‘With crisp ruffles of the tulle. Ends folded flat cross over the breast and pass to the back, where they are tied, and hang iong. At the hips the flat ends arefurnished with another pair of epaulettes; these dip over the hips, and are a crisp fluff of little tulle Tuffles. "The edge of the skirt has a deep| Fuche of tulle. The gown is pretty and sig- | nificant, because it suggests a new depar- ture. Paniers mean fearfully small waists, short skirts and half sleeves. If panters come, they will rapidly attract all the elab- eration from the shoull:rs, which is one Almost Patchwork. ‘At present we are in the days of shoulder elaboration, and another model of that sort 4s presented in picture number two. It is @ Princess dress iu silver gray alpaca, trim- med with black, dark gray or dark green silk braid. The skirt must measure three and a half yards and {s lined separately with thin silk and stitened slightly. It is ornamented with brail as shown, the same arrangement on a smaller scale be! — ated at the waist. TI eo fichu collar is ts of a bias strip laid in Pleats and hooking along the side F the arm. The opening at the Reck fs filled in with chiffon or lace. Alto. gether it ts a stylish and handsome dress or for calls. A very pretts dress ts next shown. Its skirt Is composed of a gored fountation. ok trimmed witn two deep flounces, saint flounce cut tn r 4 points et the and made of alternate rows of ace meee rtion and crepe, and edged wi, lact frill around the bottom. “The bodies 4s 4c° | made Found yoke of the eavy frill of la the shoulders. Fall = over the top of the — is a second lace r fle. The eee thus sits must meet those of the skirt giving the dress the appearance of be- ing cut princess, For House House gowns, They are made Wear. So called, are all in one. ef china stik in various dfs lined through- Ne. At the waist 9 ing fashion through ning of the skirt is in sh ties In a big soft bow Kirt is Insertion up to the here is an underskirt 9 or whatever the house amairt of black, sleeves are wonders of deep cuff. The secret hang of the fulln out with s! sash runs di wide belt. Th front, and the fn front ness, drawn into of the wonderful 8 Seems to be that the ing in a point the arm, while @omewhat above the bend of at the albow the cuff is—to be paradoxical—/ | keep below the elbow. The cuff is insertion and tucks. This garment carried out in black or White is charming, while in rose pink, with all the under lining rainbow silk, rose, ee and white, was not so pretty after Two Dresses for House or Lawn. At the right in the fourth sketch there is @ costume made of pale green gingham and trimmed with black lace. Its bell skirt is unlined and garnished at the hem with a seven-inch flounce of lace, with two bands of insertion. The waist’s yoke is alike back and front, and is ornamented with insertion. The sleeves have an clastic at the bottom, enabling the wearer to length- en or shorten them at will. The seated figure in the same picture displays a toilet in mode colored beige. Its skirt Is three and a half yards wide, satin lined, and Is trimme with double bias folds of the same material, attached to the skirt by the up- per edge. The bodice has vest fronts of white or pink pique, hooking in the center and ornamented with two rows of say ‘old buttons. They turn back a: 5 End form narrow revers. ‘The jacket fronts also form revers that continue ov shoulders and around the back in the shape of a sailor collar. Detail of insertion, tiny tucks and frills will, with the coming of cold weather, “strike in. All summer it has constituted the favorite elaboration of gowns; now it will make lingerie dreams for any one who gets a look at them and nightmares for the laundresses. Hand sewing is demanded for all this sort of thing, and the wages of the French maid are rising. We begin to real- ize how deficient the present generation is in needle-work expertness. Those compe- tent to turn out such work are doing a rushing business. The charges are far from small and the work is done slowiy, but what does miladi care. for either of those considerations. She says that ma- chine stitches hurt her now, and she can- not rest well in any but a hand-made gown. Before you express yourself too vigor- ously against the threatened chignon con- sider a few of its features. There are two motives admissible in the dressing of hatr. One, and perhaps the most artistic, is that which considers the hair as an adjunct to the face, figure and head, and which sug- gests an arrangement !n harmony with these features and calculated to empha- size their good points. This view of things requires the sacrifice of the hair in its own intrinsic value as a thing of beauty. Masses of hair too great to permit of arrangement, whese grace may be subordinated to the beauty of the head or face, are cut down to more easily adjusted proportions, The hair about the face and ears is cut with reference to the lines of the face and neck. All this is well. The other motive admis- sible in hair dressing is a display of the hair itself, of {ts generous quantity, its color and quality. This the chignon effect accomplishes. Proportions of face and neck are sacrificed to an exposition of shining rolis of sleek tresses. Smooth braids and puffs attest that the shears have never in- terfered with gracious growth. An entire covering of the back of the head, and great depth through from the head line to the circumference of the colffure, attests lux- A NEW FALL coat. Up to Date and Stylish World Without End. Low and lower fall the frills, the flufiness that this good two years past have cumber- ed and burdened the shoulders of woman- kind. That is upon their outside garments as part and parcel of the same. The col- lar, the coliarette, the standing neck frill are more than ever in vogue, but as sepa- rate and often contrasting adjuncts to the tollet. The very newest coats and wraps have collars standing high about the ears and rising out of shoulder trimming shaped accurately to the form of the garment. As for instance in this fetching garment, which is made in faced cloth of whatever color suits the wearer's eye or complexion. A fair maid will have blue or dove gray, with @ collar of lighter free to set off her fatr- ness and the biue of her sweet eyes. A rosy one has hunter's green or myrtle or olive, with bedizenment of mink free to give her roses a true Gainsborough setting. And my lady of the black eyes, the brown skin makes herself trimly gorgeous in scarlet, the true military scarlet, with a collar and cape of soft black feathers, All and several they are pictures good to look upon. But let the dear dove-eyed girl whose style 1s between any of these radiant types beware how she puts herself into such a garment. Its severe and stately style becomes her not—no matter how care- fully she may choose, nor what color har- monies she may evolve. The dumpy wo- man likewise must stand afar off, sighing enviously, it may be, for what is so chic and up to date, but not daring to exagger- ate her shoulder curves with the drooping A Colf to Offset Slenderness, may thus call attention away from itself by focusing the eye upon the persist ently exploited beauty of the hair. A really beautiful face can, of course, stand the trying effect of inharmonious arrangement of colffure, while extreme delicacy uf fig- ure, as in the girl sketched to illustrate this defense of the chignon, finds a sort of foll and relief in a suggestion of splendid luxuriance in the masses of cotled strands. But the style, most decidedly, is not for everyone. ———_-o@o______ UNDER WHICH STYLB Will It Please You, Madam, to Warm You tn the Seal's Fine Coatt The ohm of motive force which Is re- sponsible for the fur seal's existence has certainly a deal of pother to answer for. Here all year long learned rien and great lawyers have been wrangling over the big amphibian. Stupid that each cf the con- tending nations wants to “protect” seal to increase its ever privileged slaughter. Yet the end 1s nil—mere sound and fury signi- tying nothing—except that a lot of breath, ink, time, money and finesse have gone radically ‘to waste. Notwiihstanding the whole international contention ‘s a mere trifle beside the aggregate emotional dis- turbance that the pelts of those same seals occasion fair womankind when turned into capes or jackets or collars or even such small deer as cutfs and trimmings, For e which hath is miserably happy In her Possession, knowing that the style will change as certainly as the moon—so cer- tainly Indeed that a wit declares that owners of particularly handsome seal garments should be allowed a pension along with other afflicted in order that they may chat so well deserves it In the height of fashion. And she which ha . ah, me! her case is truly pitiful urning h ne portion, y. malice and all un- haritableness her woman state, while she stirs abroad in cloth, mere cloth, when other women of no better desert can wrap themselves in the velvet darkness of seal- skin. ecially if {t be made into the new cape with a mink edge, or the newer trin and shapely three-quarter coat, which is so sen- sible as to sleeve, so tasteful as to finish— which, realizing of sealskin that none but if can be its parallel, keaps it unvexed braid or frog or tawdry mosale inlayire of other fur. It sits snug, but is easy in every part, has the tall, flaring collar coming high an the ears; that is, this season, the bulwark of good style. The cape, though a costller and more garment, lacks wholly the <oat's sevare ele- gance. The latter ought to be worn over a cloth skirt trimmed about the bottom with the new seal passementerie that is a very high and very costly novei-y—quite too costly ever to become common, — _ brous sleeves whose plaits are stitched flat, nor to accent her full proportions with its se- verely simple lines. Contrariwise, to the tall thin woman, especially if she is beginning to fade, the garment ts a positive benediction. It gives her grace and stateliness and a suggestion of youth; besides there is nothing q.tite so softening to an ageing face as the furry frame, which is to wrinkles and hollows even more than charity to a multitude of sins. The coat {s, too, very nearly as benefi- cent to passee gowns as to the wearers thereof, since it lets no bit of them show for more than three-quarters of the length. To wear with it the correct thing is one of the new two-colored felt hats, the body col- or matching the fur, the facing and trim- ming of the hue of the cloth. Ribbon loops and osprey feathers are the accepted and elect thing. With them to supplement a becoming shape, it 1s safe to say that Solo- mon in all his glory never felt so sure of himself and his raiment as will the wearer of this smart new coat. shee THEY DO FALL AS A LEAF, ‘The Sleeves and Shoulder Frills When Beauty Gets New Gowns. With the fall of the leaf the shoulder seam likewise falls lower and lower upon fashionable arms. Soon, indeed, it wil be impossible to put the elbows back of the head without doing violence to that where- withal we are clothed. A mighty pity, too, since few of fashion’s vagaries so conducive to health, comfort and a certain pretty air of smartness as the short shoulder with the sleeve standing perkily above it. There was distinction in the mode for all but the hopelessly undistinguished possible better- ment, too, for her to whom nature had been unkind. The trim woman of yesterday re- called in outline a springing shaft with slightly broadened pediment and capital of pretty furbelows. The woman of today ts like unto a big upward sloping squash with an apple set above it and topped off with a smallish potato. For as the siceve, the frill fall, they find a lodgment at the elbow lirfe, which is now the region of greatest dis- tinction. Pretty soon it must reach the wrist—then look out for the “elephant ear” sleeve and undersleeve wherein our grand- mothers disported themselves when they meant to be particularly fine. Already the big puffs end in a frill below the elbow—all the rest is a mere cuff—if, indeed, the glove be not the arm’s sole cov- ering. By and by, no doubt, the under- sleeve of lace and ribbon and multiple puffs will come in to fill the hing void left by the lower sleeve's disappearance. In proof 6f all which look upon this picture, whose original was a silk gown in pale green and hellotrope. Walst and skirt are of stuff shot in two colors. The full bodice has a lace yoke laid over green. The sleeves, deep bertha, ruffle and knee flounce are of solid heliotrope; the bows, bands, belt and throatlet of bias green velvet. The bonnet is very small, about the size of your two hands, of heliotrope crepe, with loops and edge of green velvet and a pale pink rose with upstanding leaves. Long much- wrinkled gloves of hellotrope suede com- plete the toilet, which was specially de- signed for a tall girl, who belongs to the swellest of the swagger sets and will go the round of autumn show places—Lenox, Tuxedo, the White mountains—winding up with a succesion of country house parties that may run on to Thanksgiving. It 1s meant for gala occasions, garden parties, lawn luncheons and thelr like, If the wear- er comes away from them with new scalps at her belt it will be a signal proof that beauty can shine out and conquer in spite of the disfigurements of fashion. But what's grace or fitness or even conquest compared with the supreme satisfaction of feeling one’s self in the very extreme of the mode? see Petroleum to Cure Diphtheria. From the London Telegraph, Paris medical men continue to give their opinions vaguely on the treatment of diph. theria by petroleum as carried out by D: Flahout, a provincial physician. All unite in testimony as to the fact that such a treatment is by no means original. D Fauvel, a celebrated throat specialist, says that in pulmonary maladies the application of pure petroleum has produced splendid results. Moreover, during the American war of secession wounds were dressed with the oll. The doctor, however, counseled mothers whose children are affected by the dreadful malady of diphtheria or croup to put their trust for the present in pure iemon juice, which should be sponged or brushed over the throats of the sufferers. THAT LITTLE FRENCH BABY, WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY JOHN STRANGE WINTER es (Copyright, 1893, by the author.) Two and twenty years ago a great war was raging between the countries of France and Germany. Which was right and which was wrong? Well, I don’t think I know. I don’t think anybody knows exactly the right and the wrong of any war. That has nothing to do with our story, which only concerns a dear little boy baby, who was the only child of a French officer. He was not altogether a French baby, for he had an English mother, but he had been born in @ beautiful old chateau not very far trom Metz, the capital city of sunny Lor- raine. When the war began hopes ran very high in the old chateau on the banks of the beau- tiful Moselle river, for the gallant French army was on Its way to Berlin, and ell was to be glory and victory; and, if any of its men were killed in the fight, or died on the way of illness or exhaustion, why, that would be very bad for the wives and child- Ten waiting at home, but, of course, it was the fortune of war that all did not share in the glory, and the sorrows of the few must not be counted against the gain of the many. That was how many, nay, most of the People round about the city of Metz argued during those early days; and the lady of the chateau, an Englishwoman and a very brave one, was to be seen every day walk- ing beside her boy's little carriage, or driv- ing in her own pretty Victoria, with her baby and his English nurse beside her, with @ bright smile on her face and brave words on her lips; yet in her own heart there was always an awful dread, like a lump of lead, a fear that all these thous- ands of men had been sent out to battle with scarce a shoe to their feet, or any Provisions for them such as they ought to have had. If her heart was brave it was also @ very tender one, and it ached, oh, 80 sadly, for every poor mother who mourned for @ lost son, for every wife who learned that the husband she loved and the father of her children would never come marching home again, never any more. ‘ Day after day she went to try and com- fort some poor soul in the district, whose anxious fears had come to the worst end, and all the time her own heart was trem: bling and sick with the horrible dread that her own brave and gallant husband would be the next to fall—her dear, dear love, Andre Forrestier, who had won her heart years ago, and had brought her away from her English home to be the mistress of the beautiful old chateau on the banks of the Moselle. And after a while the times changed— alas! how soon it is sad to tell. The vic- torlous Prussian army—well trained, well led, well provided—soon, and but all too easily, beat the French’ forces back upon their own ground, and then set themselves to surround and ‘destroy the fair city of Metz if they gould. It was then that Madame Forrestier’s John’ Strange Winter. troubles began in real good earnest, when all the country was thrown into confusion and panic by the hosts of fugitive French soldiers and the incoming hordes of great Germans, who strode about in their bi, boots with the ar of conquerors, who sprea‘ far and wide like a cloud of locusts, eating up all the provisions that the poor peasant folk had gathered together for themselves. “Annie,” said Madame Forrestier to her English nurse, “if anything does happen, fenember that it Is on you that I shall re- ‘You may trust me, madame,” nie quickly; “it will be a clever Prussian— aye, or a Clever Frenchman,either—that will ‘a mind to keep “That is not what I am the most afraid of,” sald Madame ¥orrestier; “it is your coolness and your presence of mind that I shall need most. These poor people are so excitable, so nervous, I shall not be able to depend on them in any emergency. “Listen, madame; what is that?” exclaim- ea Annie, putting up her finger and list ing intently. “Somebody at the window. “Roste, Roste!” cried a low votce without, and at the same time tapping softly at the window pane. Madame Forestier uttered a glad cry. “Tt is the master,” she cried, “the master!” and she rushed to the window and tore It open, when a tall figure in untorm, covered by & long military cloak, tumbled in, “Shut the window quickly,” he - “They are after me; they'll be here in ten minutes. I knew the short cut through the wilderness, and I gave them the slip!" In a moment Annie had shut the window again, and barred the heavy shutters and drawn the velvet curtains over them. “You are wounded, my Andre!” cried Ma- dame Forrestier, with her arms around her husband. “Yes—not dangerously—only a cut tn my. arm,” he answered. ‘No, don’t open it—it may start the blood flowing, and that would betray me. Not,” bitterly, as he looked around, “that I need take care. They are bound to get hold of me. T am caught like a rat in a trap: but I determined I would they took me, if it was only Madame Forrestier looked at Annie. “They shall not take you!” she sald firmly, “un- jess they burn the chateau down, and I fancy It 1s too comfortable and too well pro- vistoned for them to do that. I am all ready for you! Annie and I have cleaned out the secret room. and there are provisions there for a month or mora, a comfortable bed, clothes, books, Hghts and all your tollet things. You can be quite comfortable down there, and I shall come and see you when I can manage It.” Andre Forrestler burst out langhing. “My darling! my dear love!” he said, “and how do you think you rae going to keep the Prussians out of the secret room? Nay, nay, child! a secret room that has no better concealed entrance than a trap door in the floor of your own anartment 1s no more Mkely to be secret from these Prussians than any other room in the house.” “But, Andre, they do not krow that you have reached the chateau at all,” Madame Forrestier urged. “We, Annie and I, will evise some means of covering over the ‘A rug and an arm chair,” sald Forres- tier, tessingly. “My poor Roste!—my poor, Poor etrl!” “Tisten,” said Annie, who had been stana- ing at the door. ‘T hear horses coming up the avenue. Get down the trap door, sir— at least it 1s a chance that they may not very closely search the mistress’ own bed room.”* ——_—_+e-— A Poor Metaphor. From Trath. ve rele you is sweeter dan a marshmille Martha—‘Ho! he! You bettah call me yo" chocolate drop. Don’t aimilitude ma to yo’ cot white sraah'h > ak “All ts fair in love and war, Annie,” sald Gant, Forrestier. stenifeantiy. “But. ¥ will lo as you wish, my darling, my brava love! hhlaaas wou and be with zourt stogether, She kissed him tenderly and hurried him down the steps into the secret room, clos- ing the trap door upon him. “Annie, what can we cover tt with?” she asked, anxiously looking down at it, “Really, t hardly shows in the markings of the parquetry’’—for the floor was made, as the floors in the better houses in France generally are, of short pieces of wood fitted together so as to form a pattern. “Not to an ordinary eye, madame,” said Annie; “but these men are after the master, you know, and will be extra keen in poking thelr noses everywhere. If the worst comes to the worst, I'll 1d hereabouts, mad- ame, and if L look very sweet at the sol- diers you mustn't take any notice.” Madame Forrestier sighed anxiously, “Oh, Annie, I am so nervous—so full of dread!” she said, trembling. “What is that? Oh, they are coming!” It was, indeed, the sound of footsteps on the polished corridor, and then there came @ gentle tap at the door, and the word “Madame, madame!” twice repeated. “It is Jacques,” said Annie, who was busy polishing the floor with her soft slipper, so as to remove the trace of muddy footsteps which the master might have left behind him “See what he wants, madame.” Thus encouraged, madame opened the door, and old Jacques, the old servant who had been at the chateau in the time of Andre Forrestier’s father, came in with @ scared white face, “Such misfortune, madame,” he sald, in quavering accents. “Here are six great hulking Prussian pigs, with a requisition for board and lodging in the chateau, and Some sort of @ notion that the master is skulking about the premises hiding. I swore by all that’s holy he'd never been back since the war broke out, but the great brute either didn't or wouldn't understand me. He speaks bad French,” he added in unutterable disgust. “I will come down, Jacques,” said Mad- ame Forrestier, with a last look at Annie, Who was now busy making up the fire. “Where are these—these gentlemen, Jac- ques?” she asked as she reached the head of the stairs. “In the hall at present, madame,” Jacques answered. So, with her brain on fire and a heart like ice, she went down into the hall, where she found six great German soldiers, warming themselves by the wood fire, each one big enough and fierce enough to frighten any ttle woman oor of her senses. ES morni tlemen,” she said in English. cone ‘The biggest of the stx, and evidently the officer in charge of the party, turned from fhe fire and came forward, saluting her po- “Madame is an English lady,” he said, in some surprise, “I understood that this was the Chateau Forrestier, and that Capt. Forrestier—" “Capt. Forestier ts my husband, sir,” sh said, simply, “Can you give me any news of him?" “None, madame, except that twenty min- utes ago he was flying in this direction, but we missed him in a small wood off the Toads’ {be Prussian answered. “Ee is be- leved to be in this hoi ‘and we must look for him.” maa “Certainly, you shall do that,” said Mad- ame Forestier, with great calmness; “will you come now? But did not my servant tell you that my husband is not here, and has mot been here since the war first be- gant” stag nat, pe aia. madame.” sald the Prus- ny a smile, “but I took the i of disbelleving him. sit “Then I cannot expect you to belleve me or anything but the evidence of your own eyes," said she, with dignity. “Will you come with me now and search the house? Is it necessary that you should all come? Task because I have a little child asleep in my room, and I do not wish him to fright- ened by so many strangers.” “I will take one of my men with me. We shall not wake the child, madamo,” said the Prussian, more kindiy. “I am sorry not to be able to take your word without searching the chateau, madame, but it is not left to us to use our own discretion, and my orders are explicit.” “Come, then,” she said, leading the way. She took them first to her own room, feel- ing that It was best to get that danger over first; but at the door she stopped again, and turned imploringly to the two Ee. giants who were treading softly and jolding their swords away from the floor. “You won't hurt my boy?’ she said im: Ploringly, “you are sure you won't?” The big Prussian officer could not help smiling. “We are not barbarians, madame,” he said, in his pleasant broken English. “As for ma I have a babe of my own at home, and half-a-dozen youngsters waiting to see me again.” “Come, then,” she said, opening the door. She almost screamed out aloud at the sight which met her eyes, for there, over the trapdoor, Annie had spread a bright Moorish rug; and on the rug, sprawling among a heap of silken cushions, lay little Rene, the baby, the heir, who had just wakened from a late afternoon sleep. He looked so big and fair and bonny in his dainty white embroidered lace-trimmed frock, with wide blue sash and bows to tle up his sleeves, with one foot bare, and the other in a soft knitted shoe, that the Prus- stan walked right up to him and began to talk to him with every coaxing phrase he could think of. And in answer baby Rene held up his silver coral and bells, and tried to grab at his tambourine and his favorite toy of all, a few empty cotton-reels strung as if he was anxious to show them to this fascinating new-comer with the sword and the bright buttons, and the long yellow mustache not so much unllke Forrestier’s own. “Dad—dad—dad,” he cried in delight. a-ba—ad-da.’ ‘I have just such a child at home,” said the big Pru: with a suspicious quaver in bis voice. “You will excuse me, ma- dame, I will just look around the room for form’s sake. “To be sure,” sald Madame Forrestier, with a smile-she could afford to smile now, for the baby had warded off the great danger she had so much dreaded. It was a mere form. He looked into the old oak presses, poked his sword under the bed, glanced through the dressing room, and opening one window, peered out into the darkness, little guessing that less than half and hour ago Capt. Forrestier, wound- ed as he was, had, with the strength born of desperation, swung himself up to the window by means of the !vy which cover- ed the walls from roof to ground, and that he was at that moment within a few feet of him, his retreat safely cut off by the sil. ken cushions on which the baby lay sprawl- ing, playing with his toys and his faithful dog. satisfied, madame,” the Prussian must search the rest of the house, and I am afraid you must put up with our company for some little time longer. But we are not, as I said, barbarians, and we do not wish to annoy you; and from this moment your own apartment is sacred." I think, Annie,” said madame, quietly, ‘that you had better show these gentle- men the rest of the house. I will stay with the child.”” “Yes, madame,” sald Annie. “Come along, airs.” “Oh, Rene! Rene! you don’t know,” cried Madame Forrestier, when the door was closed, “but you have saved him!” Madame Forrestier had, as the big Prus- sian officer had warned her, to put up with the company of six great, hulking Ger- mans for some weeks after that eventful night. She was a very wise little woman was Madame Forestier, for she absolutely forbade her servants (who were old and well trained in ways of obedience) to mak the slightest fuss about the Prussians. She fed them well, she lodged them well and she became the greatest of friends with the officer who was in command of the little party. Only the old man servant, Jacques, dared to say to the mistress something of what was ta his mind. “How the mistress can degrade herself,” he murmured to her one day, “by sitting down at the same table and eating with this Prussian pig, no Frenchman can un- derstand.” “Jacques,” said the little Englishwoman, looking him very straight in the eyes, “do you doubt your mistress’ love for your master?" “No, no, madame, not at all, not so—but madame may believe me, if the master should find bis way home this Prussian ale will have no mercy, because madame has entertained him royally.” “When I ask this gentleman to do any- thing out of the ordinary rules of war for me, Jacques,” said Madame Forrestier, with much decision, “I know that he will do it. For the present, it is not for you to trouble about the master; it is for you to obey my orders, and I insist—and I think, Jacques, it is the first time I have used that word to you—I insist that you treat this German gentleman and the five men who are under his orders as you would treat your own master. Some day, when alt this trouble has gone by, I will’explain why I wish you to do this; and then, Jacques, you will not only understand me, but you will feel ready to put your neck under my feet and let me trample on you.” The old servant bowed, murmuring some- thing about his chiefest desire being to serve the house of Forrestier, and he took himself away to his own pantry, where he busied himself in polishing the bits of plate which still remained to the family. “She's an Englishwoman,” he murmured to himself, or to the walls, “she’s an En- glishwoman, and the English are an astute race. What has she in her head? Has she had a communication from the master—has she even seen him—what Is it, then? She's Not against us, although she’s English: she’s a meaning for all that she does; she's not coquetting with this Prussian pig—as some of the fools among the women do with his hulking followers. No, she’s an Englishwoman, and the English are an astute race.” But in spite of all his reflections Jacques learned nothing. He tried to pump Annie, the English nurse, as to what she knew, but Annie scouted the idea of knowing anything. “Lor, Mr. Jacques,” she said innocently, “what have you got in your head? Surely it’s better for the mistress to keep on civil terms with this great brate—especially if she saves the Chateau by doing it. As to master—why she worships the very ground he walks on. Surely you don't doubt 1t now—why you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Annie’s French was not of the best, but she managed to make the old servant man understand her, notwithstanding, and mean- time went on her way, flirting pretty hard with any of the big Prussians who came across her path. And 80 the weeks went over, and in the eccasional absence of her visitors Madame Forrestier and Annie contrived to replenish the store of provisions in the secret cham- ber below madame'’s bed room; and, al- though Forrestier felt Mk« a rat trapped in a cage and chaffed and femed and fret- ted at the notion of being absent fro the regiment, still after all the hardships through which he had gone, and the weak- ness consequent on the loss of blood from his wounded arm, it was well for him that he had this chance of peace and quietness. So the days crept over until the army of occupation pressed on toward Paris, having laid bare the country like a swarm of lo- custs. Then when the danger was past and it was fairly safe for the master of the Chateau to come out from his hiding place, Madame Forrestier sent for old Jac- ques to come to her bed room. “Jacques,” she said, in a queer, shaky lit- tle voice’ midway "between tears and laughter, “you wondered that I was so civil to our Prussian guest. I am going to tell you the reason—surely you had forgotten the secret chamber beneath my bed room?" “Madame,” said Jacques, in a quivering voice, “is 1 possible—” “Yes, Jacques,” she sald, “It ts quite pos- sible; more than possible—it 1s true—your master has been in this house since ten min- utes before those Prussians arrived here. I did not keep it from you because I did not trust_you, Jacques, but because I knew ft would be easier for you to keep the secret if you aid not know it.” “But they searched the room?” he cried. “So they did,’ she answered, with a laugh, “‘but we put Master Rene on a heap of cushions just over the trap door, and they never thought to search the middle of the room. It was baby who saved his fath “Ah,” munaured Jacques, as she lifted the trap door and motioned him to go down and see his master, “but the English are an as- ‘tute race.” . —____+e+____ A Voyage on a Keg. From the Kansas City Times. Capt. ——, an old river man, created quite a sensation by the peculiarity of the craft in which he once navigated the Mis- sourl river. He was quite a sportsman, and on one of his hunting excursions his skiff was stolen or got adrift, leaving him near @ small town about twenty miles above his home. He disliked to that distance, and concluded to make a raft and float down. He lashed together four small logs five or six feet long in the form of a square, laid a piece of plank across and then placed a discarded nail keg in the middle; then he got a newspaper and, lighting a pipe, shov- ed off into the stream. Floating swiftly long he passed in front of a negro cabin. The old negro stood on the bank and hail- ed him. ‘Wha’s yo’ goin’, cap'n, om dat ting?” “Gotn’ to St. Louis! ener ‘on Gat kag?” “Fo' Gord!” was all the astonished negro could say. The captain, rather wondering at the negro, looked at his feet and found that on account of his welght and the water-soaked condition of the logs they had disappeared beneath the surface of the water, leaving nothing but the keg to show upon what he was riding. Not at all di: concerted, however, he continued his voy- age and arrived home in safety. ae Giving the Irish Points. From Puck. ae ee Tot, You Bitte, (the svord-ovallowsr, tn leep disgust, us he at k page of Puck of August 9th) —-"'Vell, yell, yell!” Dose Irish is dumb. Don'dt know how to lignt dot Cherman pipe! “Bchoost as easy as anydings!” Buckixouam’s Dre for whiskers is a popular reparation in one bottle, and colors evenly a Prown ar black “Any person oan enally apply it at UNCLE JIM STABLER. The Patriarch of the Well-Known Sandy Spring Settlement, Evervbody in the Neighborhood Re- the Pets—Uncle Jim at Home. Special Correspondence of The Star. “FALLING GREEN,” OLNEY, M4. September 1, 1898. Stablerville should be the name of the pretty rural region roundabout this little post office, but it is not Stablerville; it is Sandy Spring. There is plenty of sand here, especially during the long summer Groughts that occur now almost every year, and there are cool, sparkling springs in abundance, but there are Stablers all over the rather indefinite section of this part of Montgomery county known as “the Sandy Spring neighborhood.” There are more Stablers than there are Brookes and Bentleys, and that is saying a great deal. Everybody in this neighborhood is related in one way or another to a Stabler, and consequently the Stablers are all uncles, or aunts, or cousins, or nieces, or nephews, or something to somebody else. The Stablers are, moreover, honest, industrious, well-to-do citizens and good neighbors, ai the chief Stabler of them all is “Uncle Jim” Stabler, who has a warm place in the hearts of every dwelier in the “Sandy Spzing neigh- borhood” and within a radius of many miles outside. The portratt of “Uncle Jim” given here- with is a faithful Mkeness of the old gen- tleman and will be at once recognized by hundreds of people in Montgomery county. it shows him in a favorite and character- istic attitude, but while he loves to fondle his old double-bareled —muzzie-1 shot-gun, he was never known to do any more serious damage than to kill a squirrel or put a few bird shot under the skin of the “pesky” boys who play havoc with his watermelon patch about this time of the year. His Home Life. Uncle Jim lives about two miles from Olney in a picturesque old house, built 160 years ago, and where he first opened kis eyes to the light of day in 1877. The house, like its owner, ts becoming a little weath- erbeaten now, and, in fact, some parts of it, especially the roof of the front porch, are somewhat in the condition of the home of the famous Arkansaw traveler. It is beneath the shelter of this same roof, how- ever, that Uncle Jim spends many hours of these long, pleasant summer days. He has given up farming on a large scale, and de- Votes his hours chiefly to work in “the shop.” for he is a skilled machinist, car- penter and wheelwright, and ts universally known as the best all-round mechanic in the county. In the shop he has a complete set of all the tools known to modern me- chanics and loves them just as he loves his friends and their children who come to see him, and the birds and the bees and cats and dogs and squirrels, who always feel at home on his lawn and in his garden. But it is when sitting on the front porch, which is always dry on ciear days, that Uncle Jim is in his element. He is a great reader and delights to sit at his improvised desk in a corner of the porch and read the news of the world, from whose noise and turmoil he keeps aloof, The First of the Stablers. Sitting in his arm chair a day or two ago, with his elbow and spectacles resting on the shelf (or desk, as he calls tt) of his porch, his head in his hand and his good friend “Captain Tom” Griffith by his side, Uncle Jim told The Star reporter mony interesting things about the Btabiers, Whose names have been so long thterwoven with the growth and prosperity of Sandy Spring, and about things in general. He said among other things that chere are between fifteen and twenty families of Stablers in and about Sandy Spring, com- prising about sixty persons fn all, ana that the founders of this big family were George and Ann Stabler of England and that the first of the name to come to America was Edwani Stabler, who settled in Peters- burg, Va. and afterward in Cumberland, Md., whence the family branched off into Montgomery county, the advance guard coming in 1791. After talking for a while about these ancestors Uncle Jim spread out on his shelf ihe original grant of land to the first Stabler in America from the King of England, a grant that covered many miles of the section now occupied by the farms of the citizens of Montgomery county. The old gentleman takes great pride in family matters and hus on his par-| *2¥ lor table a genealogical tree with so many branches and twigs and leaves that it is a hopelessly bewildering task to follow it along from the trunk to the last little Stabler twig that was added but a short time ago. Uncle Jim has no little Stablers himself, but he has a dear old wife, known every- where unt Phoebe,” and a very ancient white horse who has lived almost as long as his master and who will stop anywhere on the road at any time if some one calls, “Whoa, Betty!” Uncle Jim has another horse which he calls -his colt. It 1s a sorrel mare now entering her fifteenth ys Every summer Uncle Jim says he thinks he will have her “broke,” but as she has never been through this disciplin- ary process she Is still entitled, of course, to be called a colt, Perhaps because they have no children, Uncle Jim and Aunt Phoebe are very fond of birds and beasts and fowls and animals of all kinds, and if a caller asks to see their particular pets they will say “hush” and after a moment's silence a few ttle ground squirrels will come timidly peeping from their holes and tremb- lngly approach the porch to get the crumbs held out to them. Even the bees like Uncle Jim and they yield him great boxes of honey every year. He has so little fear of them that he will conduct a swarm from the top of a tree back to the hive with as Uttle anxiety for his skin as he would feel in feeding the chickens. The trees and bushes on his pretty front lawn are cov- ered with picturesque Mttle bird houses that he has made in “the shop,” and during the long summer days their dwellers fly about the porch and lull the old man into his afternoon nap, which he takes on the parlor floor with his feet resting on the door sill, Unique Relies. | Uncle Jim ts a good deal of a relic hunter, too, with his other gentle vices, and can show and say some very interest- ing things when he ts in a reminiscent mood. His most unique relic ts a little piece of bone about a inch tn length, which, as 1s fully authenticated, is a tion of the vertebrae of Gen. ‘addoc who ts buried near where one of Uncle Jim’s ancestors lived. On the wall just In- side the porch door ts the original wooden peg on which William Penn used to hang his hat during the early di in Pennsyl- vania. There is no official certificate that this peg is bona fide, but after hearing Uncle Jim's detailed account of how it came into his possession, the most thorough skeptic could no longer doubt that the old broad brim hat of the great Quaker rested | a thousand times on this historical hook. ‘The Mysteries of Nature, Uncle Jim 1s full of philosophy, geology, natural history, botany, bird lore, boo! lore, and wood lore. He can almost mak; the birds talk, and can tell so much about the flowers and fruits and grasses that grow in such rich profusion about his old home that one wonders how the head of such a plain, practical old man can hold it all. During ‘the course of one brief after- moon on the old worm-caten porch Uncle aaFEye Hg bia i i 8 gg? i 2 i Patt iif ‘li Eg bik from the house as a specimen. cently cut it from the body of tree and it had one of the pit through tt as though made to carpenter. “There, you see,” he @ pin oak tree gets its name.” Perhaps, Uncle Jim will tell The God made owls so they can only night, and explain other Uke nature, g ° ay as ——-_—_ PRAYED TO KEEP HIS CLOTHES. A New York Street Waif Had Thets Preservation in Mind. From the New York Herald. No class of the population of New Yor come nearer to the poor than the membery of the Slum Brigade, as tt ts called, of the Salvation Army. The Slum Sisters enter the homes of the unfortunates, and minis- ter, either spiritually or materially, to sick and poor alike. It ts a wonderful work which they per form for the cause of Christianity. Imbued with an enthusiasm compared to which the members of the other sects seem but half. hearted, the Slum Sisters do not hesitate to wash and dress the babies, cook the meal for the mother or attend to the family washing and ironing. ‘The necessity of the work only governs its performance. In the barracks in which ti Sum Sisters live are beds anf gus bene women and children. Many pathetic stories could be written about the chance opeu- Pants of these temporary resting but to none probably attaches more UAT aaa, Satin the case of a little waif to whom the attention of Ballington — ey, called. _ 1 child was a boy scarcel than four or five years old.” His parents hed eee dently been sent to the island or had drift- ed away somewhere. When found crouch- ed in a corner of a hallway one chilly night in March he was but half clad and was numbed with exposure to the cold. Taken into the barracks, the waif was Washed and dressed in clean clothes, warm- ed and fed. He was delighted with the at- tention that he received, and particularly with his garments—so much so that when one of the sisters attempted to undress — for ae he cried, under the belief thet e was about to be of his new apparel. ar ereadimg: his was very apparent when ti ‘Sieter attempted to teach him the words oF the simple prayer, “Now I lay me dows to sleep.” Kneeling beside him at the bedside sister said: “Say these words efter = ow I lay me down to sleep.’ ” Peeping between his fingers the little fel wz lisped, on el, me down to - “I pray my soul to keep,” con- tinued the sister. re “I pray the Lord clothes to keep,* a the boy. os a “No, not ‘clothes to keep;’ ‘soul to pe corrected the sister. —— “Soul to keep,” said the boy. “Now say it from the begin ”" urged the worker in the slums. “ ‘Now I lay me own, to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul ta veep.” But the poor little fellow was too intent upon his treasures. no; that ts not right.” spoke the painstaking sister. “You should pray to care for your soul, not your clothes. Til take care of those.” “And won't you pawn them,” replied the lad, to the astonishment of the sister, buy rum with them? That's what they al- Ways did at home when I had new clothes.” Tears filled the eyes of the Sh but she brushed them aside the child. His few words knowledge had revealed to her the his brief life, and she needed no more to tell her of the misery though he finally mastered it was with the words my clothes to keep” on asleep. lt ——— _ +e _____ TYPES OF BAD MEN. Characteristics of the Frontier Des peradoes Who Held Life Cheap. From the San Francisco Chronicle, The wonder grows whence men, who, with pistols on knives in their belts, were fray, and when no one could be found to accommodate them picked @ quarrel ané then killed their fellow-man. degrees, all the latent viclousness in man, and the interest is, where did such men hide themselves when in more peaceful parts, or did the mere sight of the pre- cious’ metal or the insatiable greed to @b- tain it transform a je citizen an animal in contrast with whom a Bengal tiger would be sociable companionable. I asked this question, says a writer, of H. J. Crow of Los Angeles, one prosperous and adventurous busin who hed founded Idaho City and bed lowed mining in many states and territ ies, about the characteristics of these and whence they came. states and seemed to have had dark ex- periences before they had penetrated ite aI Possessed with almost animal strength, Were utterly devoid of remorse. these men—and I have known parently felt that they owed Society and had no responsibility. I sew three men together one day uod heard one to the other: “Well, Jim, go shead; Tl meet you tm hell in a minute,” and when it came his turn to swing he shouted: “Three cheers fur Jeff Davis.’ “They actually feared nothing and held their own lives as cheaply as they tools others. Where these men disappeare’ aftet the mines gave out, or whether they ever became peaceable citizens, I cannot say, © know several have adopted the iatter role, but it would take little provocation to mak¢ them as bloodthirsty as when they sough® victims in Idaho.” od Transfixed by a Swordfish, From Every Saturday. Swordfish are unusually plenty off the coast this summer. The fishermen hunt them with harpoon, spearing them from the decks of small sail vessels, The fishing smack Mattie and Lena has arrived here Undesd, lafter a four days’ trip about Block Island with sixteen large swordfish, averaging three hundred pounds each, and an exciting struggle for between Henry one of the crew, and a wounded and maddened swordfish. Cheesebro had harpooned a big fish off Montauk Point, and,after waiting the usual ngth of time, got into @ small boat fo bring the apparently exhausted fish to the vessel. As soon as Cheesebro aproached him and commenced hauling in the line, the fish awoke from his torpor and started im ttle for his life. He began operations y diving so as to spear Cheesbro's boat om the surface. Missing his alm, for a second attack. te for Cheesebro to ne- coming to the fish div It was now t treat, and, def yawl, he awaite fish shot out of the wa! drove hi ‘4 complete! boat from side to side. ed the boat about three feet from the bow port side and came out through the lank on the starboard side. Cheese- bro had retreated to the stern of the boat tm vold the violence of the fleree 4 injury. His plight was seen from the schooner and the vessel headed for the scene of the conflict. By constant bailing, Cheesebro frail and disabled craft afioat un- arrived. A blow on the head finally Killed the fish and Cheesebro’s peril as a swordfisherman was over for th time. The fish weighed 233 pounds, Bieycles Not From the London Dally of the bicycle for military purposes, ving developed with great rapidity has suddenty received a check. pe m, the minister of war, has, it appears, little faith In it. He has issued an order that the cyclist corps are only to be used on prepared ground. In time of war, he says, their use, even tt no account {3 taken of the Wabllity of the machines to break, ts iikely to cause rio miscalculations, end they can only rarely be substituted for men on horseback, The cyclists henceforth, therefore, or unt some successor to Gen. Lolzillon’ more fax vorable to them is appointed, will be re- served, by his instructions, for garrisos Guty, for the great maneuvers, and in tim@ of war for certain easy commuications @t the rea: of the forces,