Evening Star Newspaper, November 25, 1893, Page 20

20 THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C, SATURDAY. NOVEMBER 25, 1893—TWENTY | PAGES. STYLISH GOWNS. Some Timely Suggestions for In- door Wear. -- HOW REPUBLIC WAS DRAPED. One Cannot Do Better Than Fol- low Her Example. — SIMPLE OR ELABORATE. ———s Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. NEW YORK, Nov. 24, 1883. VERY WOMAN who desires to be j well dressed in her own home—and what woman does not—will find in the accompa- nying five pictures and the description of the costumes they portray some sugges- tion for adaptation to their own uses and practical aid in car- rying them out. All the dresses pictured are for indoor wear, yet none partakes of the nature of a neg- lige, each following closely the rules laid down for = stylish dressing and making the wearer appear - at once homelike and and yet precisely attired. The piainest of the lot comes first, and its sobriety is due to the fact that it is offered as a model for the middleaged or older. Its material as sketched was iron gray serge, though a great variety of materials would be equally tasteful. Its plain skirt has two deep plea kept in place by three rows of stitching. The bodice is trimmed with a soft broche silk in a shade matching the material. At the end of the grand basin at the fair, opposite the Columbian fountain, stood the statue of the republic, and you cannot do better than have your morning gown drap- ed in the back as Miss Republic wore her beautiful folds. If you saw her you will re- member, if you didn't these directions will make it clear. A full breadth of very wide and rich silken stuff must fall from your shoulders softly to the floor in the back. ‘The material is gathered into many fine folds on each shoulder, and from this gath- ering two great flutes fall the full length, ene from each shoulder. Between these flutes the goods fall in a great many hori- zontal small folds to about the waist. In other words, the goods are gathered per- Pendicularly and horizontally too. The sleeves are apparently continuations of the Perpendicular gatherings, and they are, as it were, auother breadth, each cavght up loosely and flowing along to the back, ming- This Looks Home-Like. ling with the back. The fronts fall open and wide, the edges taking rich flutes as they fall. Of course, under this would be worn a short-waisted gown of white, with sleeves flowing to the wrist. The dress Miss Republic wore is, perhaps, a little clas- sic for reproduction, but the drapery ef- fects were beautiful and worth preserving. Salmon silk over white, eminence velvet over lilac crepe, or deep golden brown over pony! yellow would be good combinations for it. If, of these two dresses, one is too plain and the other too fanciful for your liking, it may be that the dress worn by a young matron shown in the second illustration will prove a happy medium. Cut from yel- low woolen crepe showing a small design in black stars, the skirt consists of a bell shaped upper and a circu! lower half joined together with two ro of shirring and a small head. The circu three yards wide and is ¢: rnished with a Jace frill ten inches wide around the bot- | tom and by a second frill of the stuff two and a half inches in width. inches above. The jacket has a yoke, alike in back and front. to which the two front Pieces and back are shirred, with a side | front under each arm. The sleeves have | @ fitted lining and the pulf is made of a Piece of material gathered to the cuff and held in place near the elbow by a two-inch band of black lace insertion. The cuffs are also garnished with lace insertion. The eqaulettes come from accordeon-pleated lace eight inches deep. The yoke made of stuff and lace insertion in the manner indi- cated and 1s finished by a gathered lace frill topped by an arrangement of ends and loops of black watered ribbon. A beit of the same ties in The little giri's guimpe made of re bow in the front or ponge= and the j skirt are from the bright red The skirt is lined with sti? mus!in and the deep hem is topped by a white silk braid. which also comes on the jacket. The guimpe hangs ever the top of the skirt and is gathered Elaboration and Simplicity. to a neck band, and also at the waist with @ drawstring. It buttons invisib! and has very full wide siceves, finished with an elastic. and a narrow ruffle at the wrist. The jacket is cut away in front and the two points are held together by gold Unk buttons. Velvet is extensively used as 2 garniture this winter, and bids fair to outdo every- thing else in the way of trimming. In the Teft_hand dress of the next picture th stuff used is terra cott: bh mixed suiting trimmed with bl: velvet. The bodice is plain i fronts are six inc apart and twe inches at the bottom. are gathered 1 fall in blo over the velvet belt. Each frc with a band of vel ‘© inche: Ramented with buttons wh silk. In the cente n: of lemon 1 surah ornamented with fancy herring bone ing In green silk. of dor E in point thing like jacket fronts, n the w ‘The sleeves have a large puff, tacked in The ri 3 coll er: lar portion is | in front | venter and finished with silk ball fringe showing the colors of the material. The same fringe falls over the velvet fold around he bottom of the bell skirt. From the extreme plainness of the ini- I's costume to this complex affair is a ong stride indeed. As far as this article is concerned the last costume is the climax of elaboration, for the remaining toilets are all more simple. Take the other figure in the same picture; equally stylish, it is qui- ster in every way, and its fabric is black silk trimmed with pink. The skirt is mod- erately wide and is garnished around the ‘Two of the Slender Type. bottom by three ruffles, and two more come thirty inches higher. The bodice has a yoke of pink silk covered with shirred black illusion and trimmed with Jet passe- menterie. The silk is gathered to the yoke in front and back, the fullness kept in place by passementerie bands. The wide belt is made of two bands of jet passementerie di- vided by a silk stripe. The puffs of the sleeves are also trimmed with jet bands put over pink silk and the gathered epau- lettes are edged with the same. The wrists and standing collar are trimmed with a ruching of black silk covered with illusion. ‘The model at the left in the fourth sketch is a youthful one, and one particulartly suitable for slender figures. The material us isa red, blue and yellow finely plaided cheviot, trimmed with yellow satin and black watered silk. The skirt must fit Dressiness and Comfort Combined, snugly over the hips and the remainder is slashed to give the box pleats. At the top in front the pleats are slit to permit a band of watered silk to pass through and end in a nuge bow at the left side. The bodice has a round yoke and standing col- lar made of yellow satin. The seam joining bodice and yoke is hidden by a circular collar of black watered silk finished at the The openings between the pleats are filled in by pieces of ribbon to make it appear as if the collar was run through, the same as the ribbon on the skirt. The puffed leg-o'- mutton sleeves have turned back cuffs of yellow sat: The right hand dress is com- posed of sand-colored cloth and garnished with velvet in a garker shade. The skirt has a bell-shaped foundation, which ts cov- ered with three-deep circular flounces that are not herrmed at the edges. The fitted bodice hooks in front beneath the plastron of velvet, which is fastened at one side and hooks over to the other. The fronts turn hack to form revers and are caught with two pearl buttons at the waist. The revers as well as the turned-down collar are made of velvet. The bodice further has a triple garniture of circular ruffles that come all in front. None of these ruffles are hemmed or lined and the space btween each succeed- circular skirt that is very wide around the bottom. While the younz woman's pose in the final picture is of the lolling, semi-reclining sort, yet her dress is not of the neglige or- der which so often accompinies such pos- turing. It is a very pretty house dress, made from white and blue striped silk trimmed with white guipure lace. The skirt is trimmmed around the bottom with three narrow tace ruffles and is lined with silk. The bodice has a point in back and oks in front. It is adorned with separate | jacket fronts, round at the bottom and having small revers at the top, hidden by the wide frill of lace commencing | over the shoulders and meeting in a point | in the center of the back. The center of | the front is trimmed with a perpendicular | band of iace that hides the hooks and eyes. ‘The jacket fronts are faced with blue vel- vet and the belt is to match. a Small yokes, pointed front and back and let into bodices, are covered with rows of braiding and gold. These yokes often come out for especial occasions. But the Ameri- can woman has a deep-rooted objection to | the trick gown that can be made to serve | any occasion by taking in or out yokes, | sdding train and removing sleeves. When she has a new dress she wants every one | to know It’s new, and that it isn’t the same eld one with the neck out or with a piece | gone from the train. soe A Berber-Chair Episode. | From Puck. His wife had told him that he needed it | badly; and, after thinking it over for a | week, he decided to have his hair cut. | He had been sitting in the barber chair for the last half hour. All those little at- tentions for which barbers have become noted had been showered upon him with lavish hand and tireless tongue. The bar- ber laid down his scissors. | A deep-drawn sigh of ineffable relief ap- peared to come up out of the innermost upholstering of the chair, for the little |man fancied the ordeal was nearing its end. Then, through half-closed lds, he |saw the barber arm himself with a long- haired brush. Memories of the past were wafted back to him, and, shutting his eyes, he groaned aloud and shuddered. -omatum on your hair, sir?’ inquired the barber in his oiliest tones, as he jabbed the long-haired implement of torture down the little man’s back, and wiggled it around in a manner particularly exasperating. “No, sir; I never use the stuff!” snapped the victim, with a look of disgust. | “A shave, sir?” suggested the barber in jan off-hand way, as he siammed a greasy hand familiarly over the little man’s mouth | and proceeded to pat his face affectionately | with a sloppy towel. Xo, sir; thank heavens, I shave myself! came the reply in a voice trembiing with indignation. ‘Shampoo?’ continued the barber, with | dogged perseverance, as he muffled up the little man’s head in'a hot towel. “No-o! God forbid!" came smothered answer. “Or sea foam, sir?” went on the per- {sistent barber, as he fondled the throb- | bing head between his clammy hands. | ‘o, no! Nothing!” gurgled a faint voice | in reply. | “You'll want a bath, sir?” exclaimed ihe barber, after a lapse of a few morhents, in @ brisk, business-like though’ he jw ommencing ali i ‘o, sir; I won't. I've a bath in my own house,” quickly rejoined the little man, | shaking himself deiiantly and puffing like |a donkey engine. “Shoe shine?” larconically suggested the barber. No, no! TI shine my own shoes, always!” rly shrieked the little man testily, as he led to get free |. “Before you go, sir,” softly whispered the barber, a confidential and persuasive as he combed the httle man’s hair nner that was almost tender, “1 the half- | wri id like to sell you a bottle of my patent hair restorative. our hair, sir, is coming out by the handful. “t know it is uted the little man nd I'm glad of it. r I've been hair remover for in the past five ye nd I hope soon, to have no need of your services whatever.” Yes, ‘sir; answered the barber in a dreamy, mechani , as he released the Vietim from his clutches. “N-e-e-xt!" FoR §) PLESSNESS Use Horsford's Acid Phosphate, and you wh ht and long and long for sleep to come, will obtain it. A LAND OF TURKEYS. Whence the Gobbler for the Presi- dent's Thanksgiving Will Come, THE PRIDE OF RHODE ISLAND. Senator Dixon as Chairman of the Turkey Committee. HIS VESTERLY ,NEIGHBORS left side with a large bow of watered ribbon. | the way around in back and end in points | | ing frill is one inch. The bodice also has a | that are} | at the base of the revers, then continuing | Correspondence of The Evening Star. WESTERLY, R. L, November 23, 1893. HAT MEAT IT IS upon which the tur- keys of this neigh- borhood feed that they have grown so fine not even the old- est inbabitant seems to know; indeed, it is hard to understand how they manage to live at all, as there seems to be nothing in the ground here- about but rocks. Yet it is a fact thdt in this southwestern corner of “Little Rhody” and across the line in Connecticut are raised the largest and juiciest gobblers to be found in the world, and it is from this town that is shipped each year the fat fowl that graces the White House table on Thanksgiving day. The records of the town tail to show how the practice of sending New England turkeys to Washing- ton each year originated, but for many years Judge W. H. Hilliard of North Ston- ington, Conn., made it his particular busi- ness to send a turkey to the President. Last year Horace Vose, esquire, had the honor of sending President Har- rison the annual gift. This particular tur- key weighed only thirty-eight pounds, and was raised on the farm of Horace Bright- man. He was a big, bronze-backed, yel- low-legged, red-wattled fellow, not quite ope year old. When he shipped him to Washington Mr. Vose said, “Well, if I live until next year and Grover Cleveland lives until then, I will send him the finest tur- key ever raised in these parts.” Fortu- nately, Mr. Vose is alive and weil, and so is Grover Cleveland, and the loyal Rhode Islander is now scouring the rocky farms about Westerly looking for a bird suitable to srace the table of the democratic Presi- dent. He hopes this time to get a forty-five- pounder, In 1 sixty tons of turkeys were shipped from here to eastern markets, and the amount is apt to be increased this year. it appears to be one of the local duties of a United States Senator to assist in select- ing the White House turkey, and the late Senator Anthony, an epicure of world- wide fame, always wok great in- terest seeing to it that the finest turkey in the Westerly lot was | shipped to Washington. Anthony is gone | now, and his young successor in the Senate, Mr. Dixon, is chairman of the | Thanksgiving turkey committee. He will see to it that the democratic President gets just as toothsome a bird this year as his | political friend, Benjamin Harrison, did | Whileshe was President. H Other Products of Westerly. Turkey raising, however, is not the chief occupation of the inhabitants of this pretty | New England village,situated away down in the corner of the smailest state in the Union. So close to the border line is the town that only the little river Pawcatuck separates it from the state of Connecticut. Indeed, the village of Westerly in Rhode Island is so nearly joined to the village of Pawcatuck in Connecticut that the citizens of the one state go to church in the other, | and are not obliged to ride, either. Wester. ly granite has a world-wide reputation, and the “quarry: hills” about the pretty village have yielded up much wealth in the shape ot the beautiful flinty stone, gray, blue and | red in color, that has long furnished tomb- stones, monuments,buildins: wails and deco- rations throughout the United States und | Europe. i Senator Dixon. Westerly is a town of which any New nder might well be proud. about $000 inhabitants, not c: nting 7,000 | on the other side of the river, which, how- it thinks it has a right to count, if no other reason than that the people of Pawcatuck must come to Westerly to get their letters, as an economical government | has provided but one post office for the two towns. The Pawcatuckians are com- pensated for this hardship, however, by the knowiedge that when the Westerlyites are thirsty they must go to Connecticut for a drink. Owing to the prohibition law of | Raode Island, there are no liquor saloons in | but there are plenty of them on nutmeg side of the bridge that spans the little river forming the line between the states. In the matter of religious worship the citizens of Westerly and Paweatuck hav treaty of reciprocity, just as they have in regard to liquor selling and post citices. On the Rhode Island side of the | river a |, © portion of the residents are Seventh Baptists, who go to church on Saturday and work on Sunday, being spe- cially exempt from the Sunday observing law. A few of the Pawcatuckians are Ad- vent alsp, and worship with their Rhode Island brethren, On the other hand, many | of the good people of Westerly are Presby- ington while holding office in 1842. His | son, Nathan Fellows Dixon, was born in Westerly in 1812, was a practicing law- yer here, and served for ten years as a member of the National House of Repre- sentatives. His son, Nathan Fellows Dixon, the third, who was born in Westerly in 1847, was on the 10th of April, 1889, elected a Senator of the United States to succeed Jonathan Chace, resigned, and he is now occupying the seat which his grandfather occupied fifty years ago, The Name Never Changed. In 1887 the New York, Providence and Boston railroad was opened for business, and since that date Nathan F. Dixon has been a member of the board of directors and one of the legal counsel. So far as the books of the company show, it has been the same Nathan F. Dixon ail these years. The oldest bank in Westerly is the Wash- ington National Bank. It was incorporated as a state institution in 1800, and converted into a national bank in 1829. In that year Nathan F. Dixon was elected president, and held the office until his death, in 1842, when his son, Nathan F. Dixon, was elect- ed president, and remained so until he died, in 1881. His son, the third Nathan F. Dixon, was then eligible to the vacancy, but de- clined election because of the fact that Charles Perry, who had been cashier for many years, deserved the promotion. Mr. Perry was elected president, and died in 1s#, when he was succeeded in that office by the present Nathan F. Dixon. The Dixon homestead, which was built by the second Nathan F. Dixon, is a large square old-fashioned house painted white, the prevaiiing color for houses in some por- tions of Rhode Island and Connecticut. standing just on the edge of the village, in the midst of several acres of meadow, and lawn, and orchard trees. One wing of the pleasant, hospitable-looking house is used today as a law office, just as it has been for fifty years or more, and the lawyer at the desk is still Nathan F. Dixon. The Senator combines practical farming with his busy law practice just as the other two Nathan F Dixons did, and, as he says with a smile, with just about as much success. He is devoted to good road horses and Jersey cows, and has fine specimens of both. DS. B. ae CURIOSITIES OF THE CALENDAR. Do You Know hen the End of the Century Will Comet From the Boston Home Journal. The year 1900 will not be a leap year simply because, being a hundredth year, al- though it is divisible by 4, it is not divis- ible by 400 without 4 remainder. This 1s not the real reason, but a result of it; the real reason being the establishment of the Gregorian rule, made in 15! The nineteenth century will not end till midnight of Monday, December 31, 1900, although the old quarrel will probably again be renewed as to what constitutes a cen- tury and when it winds up, and thousands will insist on a premature burial of the old century at midnight of December 31, isn, But, as a century means 100 years, and as the first century could not end tiil a full 100 years had passed, nor the second tll 200 years had passed, &c., it is not logically clear why the nineteenth century should be curtailed and broken off before we have had the full 1900 years. The Ist of April and Ist of July in any year, and in leap year the Ist of January, fall on the same day of the week. The Ist of September and Ist of December in any year fall on the same week day. The Ist of January and the Ist of October in any year fall on the same week day, except it be a leap year. The Ist of February, of March and of November of any year fall on the same day of the week, unless it be a leap year, when January 1, April 1 and July 1 fali on the same week day. The ist of May, Ist of June and 1st of August in any year never fall on the same week day, nor does any cne of the three ever fall on the same week day on which any other month in the same year begin: except in leap year, when the Ist of Febr ary and the Ist of August fall on the same Week day. ‘To find out on what day of the week any date of this century fell: Divide the year by 4 and let the remainder go. Add the quotient and the year together, then add % more. Divide the result by 7, and if the remainder is 0, March 1 of that year was Sunday; if 1, Monday; if 2, Tuesday, and so on. For the last century, do the same thing, but add 4 instead of 3. For the next cen- tury, add 2 instead. It is needless to go beyond the next cen tury, because its survivors will probably have some shorter method, and find out by simply touching a knob or letting a Knob touch them. Christmas of any year always falls on the same day of the week as the 2d of January of that year, unless it be a leap year, when it is the same week day as the 3d_day of January of that year. Easter is always the first Sunday after the full moon that happens on or next after March It is not easy to see how it can occur earlier than March 22 or later than April 26 in any year. New Year (January 1) will happen on Sunday but once more during this century; that will be in 1 In the next century it will occur fourteen times only, as fo! lo 1905, 1911, 14 mr! », 195) 1961, 1967, 1978, 184, 198) and’ 1905 The intervals are regular—6-5-6-11, 6-5-6-11 —except the interval which includes the hundredth year that is not a century, when there is a break—as 1803, 1899, 1905," 1911— when three intervals of six years come to- gether; after that plain sailing till 2001, when the old intervals will occur in regular order, ———_-+. MAKING TEA IN JAPAN. The Hostess Never Intrusts It to the Servants on Company Ocecastons. A Japanese host or hostess never intrusts the making of tea to the servants on com- pany occasiongy says the Chicago Mail. Hither he or s® prepares the decoction in the presence of the guests. This ceremonial teamaking is an artistic process, and is considered an “accomplishment” by the na- tives. : The teapot is a little jewel-like thing that can be set—handle, spout and all—inside one of the common-sized coffee cups that a foreiguer draws once or twice at a break- fast. The cups are of fine cloisonne, with plain enameled linings, each no larger round than the circle of a tulip’s petal can inclose There is in the service a small pear-shap- ed pitcher, a beautifully wrought bronze teapot in which the boiling water is brought, and a lacquer box containing the candy of the choicest leaves from the fine tea gardens of the Uii district—a tea so rare and expensive that none of it is ex- ported or known abroad. and only the wealthiest Japanese can afford to buy the precious leaves The host takes an ivory scoop carved in the shape of a large tea leaf. fills the little teapot full of loosely-heaped leaves, and then, having poured the hot water into the pitcher that it may cool a little, pours it terians, and as there is no church of this denomination in either village, the Presby- | terians of both congregate on Sundays in | the little Congregational churen on the | Connecticut side of the Pawcatuck river, Taking ail things into consideration, the | Westerlyites and Pawcatuckians dwell in| perfect peace and harmony on every day | in the year, including election day, and this jis saying a good deal when the peculiar circumstances of their environment are considered, Senator Dixon and His Ancestral Home. The most prominent citizen of Westerly is United States Senator Nathan’F. Dixon, who was born here, “as his fathe> was be- fore him.” Mr. Dixon, in addition to being chairman of the White House turkey com- mittee, is a lawyer, and with his brother is interested in developing a quarry that yields the finest grained red granite to be found in the world. It is the most durable stone of any yet quarried, and is capable of bei polished to the highest possible degree. For nearly a hundred years the name of Nathan Dixon has been a household word in West present and a history of the life of the enator, his father and his grand- furnishes a striking example of the shioned New England habit of con- tinuously honoring those citizens who have proved themselves worthy and deserving. Nathan Fellows Dixon the first. came to | Westerly, Rhode Island, from Piainfield, Connecticut, ninety years ago, and from | that day to this the name has been an | honored one in the social, comme-cial and | political life of Rhode Island. The son of leach Nathe Dixon followed so closely jin the footsteps of his father that a stran- the recard of the state might y ne that but one man of that| ame had lived throughout the present cen- tury. This interesting record shows that | an F. Dixon the fizst, who was a Westerly lawyer after he came to Rhode| Island, was in 1X38 elected a Senator | of the United States, and died in Wash. into the teapot of leaves. The hot water barely touches the leaves in the little teapot when the host begins |pouring off a stream of pale straw-colored tea into the little cups, that are then pass- ed, each only half full of the infusion. ‘The tea is as delicate and fragrant as if made of rose leaves, and strong enough to keep one awake for twelve hours after drinking it. An Expiznation From Our Friend. From Puck. ii S Did I ever work? ed the habit. No, sir. I never con- Work habit jest as bad ra Jas the onium habit. A man gits in the | | habit of takin’ opium. Suppose he stops it; | what becomes of him? Why, he dies! A | man contracks the work habit. Stop his work, once—what does he do? Why, he starves to death—he dies! One jest as bad as the other. one in mine, thank you! THE BELLE OF THE BIG DRAW. BY ALICE MacGOWAN. ens Written for The Evening Star. SLENDER, GRAY- haired little woman of fifty she was, slightly bent froma lifetime of hard work, yet I speak afvisedly when I say that she was— if belleship is calcu- lated by the number of one’s masculine admirers—the belle of the whole Big Draw country. Everybody loved her. They couldn't heip it; but I think the reason for the entire admiration every man of her acquaintance—young, old cr middle-aged—gave her was that she was, in gpite of her bravery in carrying on alone, for twenty years, the trying work of a ranch, so thoroughly a woman. The slender store of accomplishments acquired in her girlhood were not thrown aside because she sometimes had to ride the range, gun in hand, looking for timber wolves. ‘There wasn’t a young fellow in the neighborhood who didn’t make a confi- dante of her about his love affairs—var- ticularly if they chanced to go wrong. She was always ready to give an hour to listening to their woes, giving them good advice or playing Smith's March or Maid- en’s Prayer for them on the wheezy little melodeon. She could sing, too, in a thin, sweet old voice, songs that the boys loved and whose choruses they could join in, such as “oll on, Silver Moon” and “Araby’s Daughter.” Her own boy, her only son, had turned out, as widows’ only sons seem prone to do, not exactly bad, but trifling. Perhaps she loved him too well or humored him too much, but it is sure that her little court of admirers was wrathy more than once over reports of the hard- ships wrought for his mother by Wade Moore's neglect. People had seen her out on the range in bad weather, doing a man’s work, and been told in hasty apology that Wade was sick at home, but these seizures never kept silently and were carrying the long box in. She could hear the shuffling of their feet. “O, Wade, my little son,” she moaned, “is this your home-coming!” Her mind went through all the torments we feel when our dear ones are taken from us— that ali mothers know for ‘their sons who | go astray. Would it have been different if she had been firmer, if she had been more lenient, if she had followed him at once when she failed to hear—O, the trag- edy of those “ifs.” She thought of dropping to the ground and ending it all there, but she longed to See the face of her boy in the coffin. Tom Andrews pecped cautiously out of the back door, and she called softly to him. “Why, Aunt Mat; why, Aunt Mattie,” he cried—a name he kept for state occa- sions of great excitement. “How did you get up there?’ 'O, help me down, dear, lift ae she moaned. age “I'd rather die pony ie on the — Tan and mriet end down in his strong young arms, aud set her on a bet ga the windmill tower, aun aon her. saw you,” she gasped. “Then you've been up The boys sent me on ahead to spy out the ground. They didn’t want to bring it while you were in the house, and if you were abeut, I was to get you away on some eae A shudder went over the pathetic little figure before him. Poor Wade! Already he was “it” to everybody but her! Tom was fanning her vigorously with big cowboy hat. “Don't you feel better now—well enough to come in and see it? The boys "Il be cut up about your getting sight of it before they were ready—but you had to see it sometime, of course.” The utter lack of sympathy in the young voice quite broke his listener's patient heart. “O, Wade, my son, my son!” she cried, and burst into a storm of sobs. “Why, yes," said poor, bewildered Tom. “Wade's all right. He's in there with the others. It was him driving, but he kept his hat pulled down for fear you'd see him and know him. Says he's been sick, and gave the folks at the hospital the wrong address is the reason his letters didn’t get here, but he’s all right now— why, what's the matter For she had risen and was gripping his arm hard with both hands. “If Wade's all right,” she whispered, huskily, “what— was—in—that—box?” “A piano for you,” said Tom. “A. piano that me and the rest of the boys sent to hear you play on. And when the (which wasn’t burned in the least) had been disposed of, any passerby might have heard the melodious strains of Smith's March as performed by the belle of the Big Draw, on @ resonant new piano, to the great delight of her audience, saluting the prairie breeze. — cee TWO MEMORABLE SHIPWRECKS. The Horrors of Being Lost in a Nor- wester on Our Coast. From Worthington’s Magazine. him from town of an evening, if there was any fun on hand. He wasn’t popular with the boys who adored Mrs. Moore, and the? would have been glad to let him see it in some mark- ed way, only they knew that any blow aimed at him must strike her gentle heart first. Finally, some time along in the summer, he went to Kansas City with cattle, and his mother had been running the Bar 6 alone for nearly five months. Her friends had not neglected her in that time. Tom Andrews, the young fellow whe was manager of the Three C’s ranch, her next neighbor to the south, and one ot her best friends, rode over nearly every day to see how she was getting on, and whether there was anything he could do for her. This fine crisp November morning, the day before Thanksgiving, he found her sit- ting despondently on her porch, with no work touched and her hands in -her lap, and in answer to his anxious inquiry sae told_him she was troubled about Wade. “Worrying because you want him home?” asked Tom. “Where is Wade now?” As he glanced at Mrs. Moore he saw the work-worn, knotted little hands close con- vulsively together. Her head was bent, and Tom thought she was crying. “I domt know,” she said, in a voice scarcely above a whisper. ‘Tom sat down on the porch edge, speecn- less with astonishment. “Haven't you heard from him?” he said. “i haven't heard a word since he left,” she replied, “and I've got so anxious and worried I've got to tell somebody “i should think so,” said Tom. “Why, it's—" “Five months,” filled in Mrs. Moore; “but I wasn’t uneasy until after the fair closed. I was sure he was there. He had plenty of money from the cattle to go all right, and stay till it closed, and somehow I was sure that was what he meant to do.” “Why, Mrs. Moore,” said Tom, “he'd never run off and leave you that way; you were intending to go togeth when the cattle were sold, weren't you It was a cruel question, and Tom re- regretted it the moment it was out. The red roses in the wrinkled cheeks before him faded till they looked like withered | rose leaves. “That's why I think he went off as he! did. 1 know Wade better than you do”— | ‘Yom doubted that—“he's young and likes | to make a good appearance, and maybe he didn’t care to have an old-fashioned woman like me around with him every- where.” “An old-fashioned angel,” muttered Tom | to his boots; “any decent man would be | only too proud of such a mother—there, now; I've made you cry again, when I was | trying to say something pleasant!” “No,” said Mrs. Moore, raising a resolute face full of cheerful courage. “No, I'm not going to let it worry me any more. i've divided my trouble with you now by teliing of it, and I'm going to put it out of my_mind. “i'm not going to spoil you boys’ Thanks- giving dinner by being dull or depressed either.” “O, the Thanksgiving dinner,” said Tom (it was an annual institution with Mrs. Moore). “There are ten coming that I know of—did you get the turkeys?” “Yes,” she answered, “fine ones, and my pumpkins turned out’ so well this year. ‘Teofilo fixed up a plan for irrigating the | garden. We won't have the canned stuff like we had last.” “well,” said Tom, rising to go, “I wouldn't worry about Wade. He'll be home all right when his money gives ou:. You must be ready to play and sing for u tomorrow. You know we boys expect plenty of music when we come here.” “I will,” cheerfully, “and Tl go in and start those pies right now. Tell the boys to bring any poor fellow they know that’s ; away from home and has no place to eat Woe to the sailing ship that encounters a December nor’wester in the North Atlantic near our coast! Hull and rigging become encased with ice; the crew work with diffi- culty, for the prodigious seas coming on board freeze where they strike, make decks and rigging slippery and freeze hands, faces and feet. Woe to the ship that is wrecked on our coast in such terrible weather! There is one specially memorable wreck in which these horrors were awfully exem- plified. It happened to an American pri- vateer brig in the war of the revolution. She sailed out from Plymouth with a crew of 144 men, of whoin many belonged to that part of Massachusetts. The wind was sou’west. But when she got into tne bay it veered to northeast, blowing so hard she could not carry enough sail to keep off a iee shore. They wore snip and tried to run back. But she struck un the bar and could hot be moved. A prodigious sea was run- ning; it was the month of December, aud the vessel was loaded down with irozen spray. ‘Then the wind shifted to nor west, and what the northeaster began the nor’- wester completed. After the wind went down the people of Plymouth went off to the rescue. They chmbed the slippery sides and stepped on the slippery deck and entered the cabin and the forecastle. There was not a man left alive on board. All were dead. One hun- shore and laid in the church. But when the minister arose to preach the funeral ser- mon and saw that array of dead men be- fore him his voice failed him, and he feil back in the pulpit in a fit. Similar was the doom that befell the noble ship New Era in 1854. She was struck by the deadly northwester. Those were the days when emigrants came to the United States in sailing ships, and the New Era had some six hundred souls on board. It was the middle of December, 1854. She was nearing the Jersey shore—of ali our coasts one of the most dangerous—and yet her captain, instead of exercising proper vigil- ance with such a precious freight in his charge, was engaged in making love to one of his passengers and drinking himself | drunk. On a dark night in a blinding snow storm the ship struck on Deal beach. To sand, which sucked down the hull, and the breakers red over her decks and swept off hund! The survivors fled to the rig- ging. And then the wind shifted into the | northwest, sharp as a razor and fierce as | hell. One efter another the survivors were frozen to death; some fell frozen into the surf; some clung with icy grip to the ropes and spars,dead. Nearly five hundred corpses lay the next day in rows in a long barn, where the bowling alley of the Hathaway House now stands. They one common grave at Branchburg. ————_~ e+ ___ Wom: Rights. From Puck. She—“Yes, I admire Mrs. Lease. I think she ought to be Senator from Kansas.” He—“Do you believe women are eligible @s United States Senators?” do. Don't you?” es—since they are not allowed to From Truth, Thanksgiving dinner.” |. ‘Tom rode away, and the lest word from him, oddly enough as Mrs. Moore thought, was a faint hail sent bacl ““Mind—we—expect—music: Thanksgiving morning Mrs, Moore baked her pies. A goodly row. The turkeys were in the oven, the other dishes baking, sim- | mering or stewing, as best suited them, when the windmill at the back of the ranch house stopped pumping. That meant, since the store was already low, a cutting off of the water supply before night. “IT might as well fix it before I change my dress,” she reflected, and catching up a heavy hummer she went out to the tower. | Forty feet seems a rather extraordinary climb for a woman of her age, the ladder, too, was wooden, old and unsafe, as Tom Andrews had warned her a week or two ago, but eld Teotilo was gone; she was ag fearless as an urchin, and up she went, laughing a little. A tap from her big ham- mer set things right, and the wheel began revolving, but the first turn struck the hammer out of her hand, and down it fell, knocking off three rungs of the rickety ladder as it went. Well, she was finely caught! Visions of the Thanksgiving dinner burn- ing up while she was imprisoned so. flitted through her mind. Locking about for aid, she saw a pony and rider approaching the front of the house cautiously. It was Tom Andrews: but how curiously he was acting. He dis- mounted, tied his pony in a bunch of mes- quite and came up to the house almost on tiptoe, looked in at every window, tried some of the doors, and then, standing on the porch, called her name very softly. She laughed as she looked at him. she wouldn't answer. She'd rather any- bedy but Tom Andrews should help her down. He had seemed so horrified at the idea that she should ever go up on wind- mills at all when be warned her of the un- safe ladder. | As she looked, he stole softly back to the little divide that hid the house from the read, and waved his handkerchief to some- one she could not see. | An awful fear clutched at her heart as, in | No, Answér to the signal, a wagon came. in sight along the road. A wagon with the ten young men she had expected to dinner, some riding in it, some walking beside it, | and in the body of it a long box, covered | with a cloth, She knew what that meant as soon as her eye caught it. It was Wade—er boy, her baby, her only son! They were bring- ing him home to her. Her tired arms near- ly let go their hold. | They were driving up in front of the "house now. They had gotten out very | | “Oh, dear! here's that horrid near- jsighted Mr. Fresh; I'll introduce the girl |in the mirror to him as my twin sister, and | then run out of the room. Isabel is my dear twin sister ke me in every respect.” | 3 3.—“Mercy! he tried to shake hands!” and stood looking down | there all the time. | Emerald City for, and hauled out here to | Thanksgiving dinner | dred and forty-four corpses were taken on | make matters worse, she settled on a quick- | were buried in} RAILROADS. BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD, SCHEDULE IN EFFECT NOV. 1p, tua, Leave Washington from station corner of New Jer sey avenue and © street. For Chicago and Northwest, Vestibuled Limited express trains 11:20 a.m., 8:15 p.m, For Cincinnati, St. Louis nd ‘Tndlanapotie, Ves. ‘50 night. tipuled Limited 3:30 p.m. For Pittsburg Chev xpress 2 seas ps © daily 11:30 « Lexington and Staunton, 11:30 a.m. | For Winchester and Way Stations, 15:50 pm. For Luray, Natural Bridge, Roanoke, Knoxvill | Ghattanooza, Memphis and New Orleans 11:10 pias daily; Sleeping Cars through, | For Luray, 3:30 pm daily. | Week 33:35, 5: 37:15 (8:00, 45 minute, snub, Seo x0 (0 on 45 minutes) a.m. x12.00,x12:05, 12:15, x2:15 3.0% 25, 34:28, 4°81." 25:00," x5: minutes), x8 205, OD, 1:00, x2:15 ‘Son , 6:30, Sx - 8:30, x9:30 a.m. | 43 minutes), 3: | 29:50, 10:00, x1 | For Annapolis, p-m. Sundays, For Frederick, 2. For Boyd and way point For Gaithersburg aud wi 10:00 a.m., 1 19:40, 15:30 p.m. NEW YORK AND PHMe ADELPHIA, For Philadelphia, New York, Boston and the East, daily 3:35, 8:00 (10:00 a.u., ex. San. Dining ar, (12:00 Dining Car), 3:00 200 Dining Car, §:00 (11:30 p.m. Sleeping Car, open at 10:06 | O'clock). je City, 10:00 a.m. and 12:00 noom noon * | “Except Sunday. Daily. ?Sunday only. xExpress trains, Pargage called for_and checked from hotels and sestdiemoes by Leica ‘Transfer Co. on orders left at et offices, G19 and 1 . ave, Depots RB. CAMPBELL. sec "Guan O's ScULL CHESAPEAKE AND OHI0 RAILWAY, strane heaate in effect November 19, 1893. Jenve >, en gd from Union station (B. anf Through the grandest scenery in America with the handsomest ‘and most complete solid: teain wor vice west from peeianatt and St, uled, Newly Equipped, Elec ted Trait. Pullman's finest ‘ashington to Cincinnati. Indian- | apolis and St. Louis without change | from Washington. Arrives Cincinnat | Indianapolis, 11:30 ‘a.1n., seas St. Louis, 7:30 p.ta | 11:10 P.M. DAILY—The famous « n20 tric-lighted, Steam-hen sleeping cars . FP. V. Lim- ited." A solid vestibuled train with dining car and Pullman sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and | Louisville, without change; arri at Cincipnatt 6:39 p.w.: Lexington, 6:10 p.m.; ile, 9:50 P.n.; Indianapolis, 11:20 p.m.; Chicago, 7:30 a.m., and St. Louis, 7:45 a.m., connecting in Union depot points. A.M. DAILY—For Old Point Comfort avd N folk. [Oxiy ail tine. Charlottesville, Waynesbore’, Staunton and pinch pal Virginia points; daily, except Sunday, for Rich- mond. Pullman locations and tickets at company’s of- fices, 513 and 1421 Pennsylvania avenue. ee, H. W. FULLER, CHMOND AND DANVILLE RAILROAD. SAMUEL SPENCER, F. W. HUIDEKOPER AND REUBEN FOSTER, RECEIVERS. Schedule im effect November 19, 1893. All trains arrive and leave at Peunsylvania Pas- Senger Station, Washington, D. C. $200 a.m. daily.—Local for Danville and inter- mediate stations, and through coaches for Front Royal and Strasburg daily, ex: Sunday, and connects at Lynchburg with N and Western | Stations westward daily. 11:01 a.m., Richmond and Danville fast mail. | Daily for Lynchburg, Denville and for principal | points south on Richmond and Danville system, | including Anniston avd Birmingham, also Opelika, | Columbus, Montgomers, Mobile and New Orleape, | Pullman ‘Sleeper New’ York and Washington to feveenned uniting @t Greensboro’ with sleeper for sta. | 4:45. p.m.—Daily for Charlottesville and tnter- | | mediate stations. 10:43 p.m.—Deily, WASHINGTON AND SOUTH- en- and | WESTERN VESTIBULED LIMITED, | trely of Pullman Sleepers and Dining runs to Atlanta, Montgomery and New Orieans, | with Pullman Buffet Sleeper through New York | and Washington vo New Orleans, via Montgomery, ind New York to Angusta. Also New York to | Ashevi s | Wa: | coaches. | TRAINS ON WASHINGTON AND OFI0 DIvis- ION leave Washington at 9:10 a.m., 4:35 p.m. daily | for Round Hill, and 6:25 P-™., exeept Sunday, for | Herndon and intermediate stations. Returning, ar- [rive Washington » am., 2:45 p.m. daily from Round Hill. and 6:53 a.m. daily, except Sunday, | from Herndon only. | _ Through trains from the south arrive Washington 7:13 a.m., 5S p.m. and 8:30 p.m.; Manassas Di- | vision, 8:30 p.m. daily, except Sunday, and 8:40 a.m. daily from Charlottesville. Tickets, Sleeping Car reservations and infermation | furnished at offices, 511 and 1300 Penusyivania | ave., and at Passenger Station, Pennsylvania Rail- | road, Washington, D. |W. H. GREEN, Gen. M | _L. S. Brown, General - TURK, Gen. Pass. Agt. Agent Passenger Dept. 120 ER OF 6TH AND B STREETS. BCT NOVEMBER 19, 1893. FAST LINE.—For Pittsburg, Parlor |. Cars to P are. A.M. PENNSYLVANIA LIMITED.—Pullman | Drawing and STATION x IX. EF | 11:05 a. tate Room, Sleeping, Dining, Smok- ing and Observation Cars Harrisburg to Chicago, | Cincinnati, Indianapolis and Cleveland. Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. P.M. CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS, Pullman Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. Sleep- ing and Dining Cars, Harrisburg to St. Louis, Cincinnati and Chicago. 7:10 P.M WESTERN EXPRESS.—Pallman Sleep- tex Care vo Chi ago and Harrisburg to Cleveland, ing Car to Chicago. PAL SOUTILWESTERN EXPRESS.—Puttman Sleeping Car to St. Louis and Sleeping and Dining | _ Cars Harrisburz to Cincinnatt. (10:40 P.M. PACIFIC EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleep- ing Car to Pittsburg and Buffet Sleeping Car Har risburg to Chicago. 0 A.M. for Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester an@ is, except Sunday. us .M. for Williamsport, Renovo and Elmira datty,, qzcept Sunday. ‘For Williameport daily, . for Wiliamsport, Rochester, Buffalo and Falls daily, except Saturday, with Sleep- ashington to Buffalo. M. for Erie, Camandaigua and Rochester for Buffalo and Niagara Falls daily, ex- turday, Sleeping Car Washington to Rochester. | FOR FSRADEEMA, al YORK AND THE 00 P.M. “CONGRESSIONAL LIMITED,” all Par | lor Gara, with Dining Car from Baltimore, for ! ew York daily, for Philadelphia week days. 9:00, 9:40 (Dining Car) and 11:00 A.M., 12:15, 30 (Dining Car), 3:15, 4:20, 10:00 and 11:33 M. On Sunday, M. (ining Car), | PM. For Philadel AM. week days. daily. For Boston, without change, 7:50 A.M. week days and 3:15 P.M. daily. For Raltimore, 6: 51:05 and 1 (4:00 Limited), 4:20, 10:40, 11:15 and 1 9:00, 9:05, 11:00, 11 For Pope's Creek Line, “daily. except Sunda For Annapolis, 7:20, 9:00 and 11:50 A. nd 4:2) PM. For Richmond sind the South, 4:30 and 10:37 A.M, | 3:46 P.M. daily. For Richmond only, week days. | Accummodation for Quantice, 7:45 A.M. @afly anf | 4:25 PLM. we 78. | For Alexandria, 4:30, 6:25, 7:45, 8:40, 9:45, 10:48 | | [2:01 noon. 1:00, 2:11, 3:28, 4:25, 5:00, : 11:39 P.M. On San- 45 A.M., 1:00, 2:43, 205, 8:00, 208, 3:00, 1108 aM. Ticket offices, northeast corner of 13th Pennsytvania avenne and at the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the checking lo a tion from hotels and resi- of baggage to destination oer | SM. PREVOsT, General Passenger so, | oneral Manager. ————oooeoee—eOO POTOMAC RIVER BOATS. _ WASHINGTON STEAMBOAT CO.. “LIMITED.” 7th st. “ferry 4, Steamer waneacla on MONDAYS, WEDNESDAYS and SATURDAYS at 7 a.m. for Nomini creek, Va., and intermediate landings. Returning TUESDAYS, SUNDAYS. (See schedule.) 3% apt Acrowsmith on MONDAYS am@ WED’ JAYS at 3:00 p.m. for Alexandria, Colo- \o 11 lower river landings; returning se eer neal TCESDAYS and ‘THURSDAYS. for ings. arriving at Washington WED- and FRIDAY MORNINGS. On SATUR. > 20 p.m. for Colonial Beach, Colton’s, St. George's Inland, Smith creck, apd Yeocomico; returning es Kinsale, ar ane Washington SUNDAY em ae C W. RIDLEY, ~ ew PALACE STEAMER HARRY RANDALL W Ther View wharf, 7th street, Sunday. Thursday at 7 a.m. Landing at all wharves as far down as Maddox creck. Returning ou Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, 3 p.m. Pas- Stnger accommodations first-class. Freight received 5: & Ee be 3 4 ? Entil hour of sailing. Telephone, 1765. €O., Agents, ‘Alexandria. semis Z EF. 8. RANDATI. apeT-tr Proprietor and Manager. | NoRFOLK AND WASHINGTON STEAMBOAT 60. f BETWEEN WASHINGTON, D. Cy DAILY UNE ORTEESS MONROE. nnd NORFOLK, Va. The new and powerfal Iron Palace Steamers. SGTON AND FOLK—SOUTH BOUND, he on daily at 7 p.m. from foot of qth st. wharf, arrive at Fortress Monroe at 6:30 iim. next day. Arrive at Norfolk at 7:30 a.m., | where railroad connections are made for all south and southwest. — NCRTH BOUND, folk dolly at 6:10 p.m. Leave Fortress 7 m. Arrive at Washington et te ext cay. Cockers on sale ot 19, 1351 and 1421 Penn syivanta ave. and Sth st. nw, “Ask for tickets sia (© pew line, Slaphone 750, meaeraE INO. CALLATI whitt Gen,