Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1894, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 18, 1894-TWENTY PAGES ABOUT PARIS WIDOWS They Are Not Entirely Inconsolable While in Mourning, LESSENING THE PANGS OF GRIEF Observance of the Minute Proprie- ties a Second Nature THE RULES AND REGULATIONS ho Qxclusive Correspondence The Evening Star. PARIS, December 27, 1893. HEN A HUSBAND W ie in Paris his widow is conducted gently back to the af- fairs of this world by six sets of letters. The question of her mourning garments mingles with their in- terest. If she be Young the fact that she has found a unique place in Paris womanhood com- a pletes her sad bou- quet—yet bouquet—whose fragrance socthes the mind into a mitigating reverie. For there is this advantage in a society ex- tremely formal, where every act and state of life is marked off, as in France, and the observance of minute proprieties becomes a second nature; the mere treadmill affords Preoccupation almost reaching up to com- fort; and life, which has gone always on, as im a well-proportioned drama, discerns @head the act which is to follow, with all its new experiences. The letters which console the widow are: @) The funeral invitations; (2) the lettres de faire part; @) autograph letters to in- timates; (4) letters of condolence, in return of numbers 1 and 3; @) cards in response to number 2; (6) the sending out of a col- lective card after the funeral to all the friends who have attended. Funeral Invitations. The funeral invitations (lettres d'invita- tion au convoi) are engraved. They are sent out in the name of the deceased's male relatives only; the ladies of the fam- fly do not figure on them, neither widow, | eemep daughter. The imposing assem- a ye of so many names, which run on like @ preambie, and the large size of the sheet end type are their principal peculiarities. These invitations, so formally and hand- somely gotten up, are sent by mail. The gentlemen who figure on them ought not to take in their completeness all their own dignities and titles. “Col. S— of the 2th of the Line” is proper, because it gives‘an actual designation, almost a part of an of- ficer’s name. But it would not be prope to add “Officer of the Legion of Honor. On the other hand, the deceased person should have all his titles, grades and digni- ties announced. Funeral invitations are sent out only to those friends who inhabit Paris. It is not Proper to impose a-railway trip and loss of time on people merely to offer them a spec- tacle of sadness and desolation. All such, and all mere acquaintances, wherever liv- ing, must have sent to them the second en- graved form—the lettre de faire part. The lettre de faire part has its name from the principal and almost only verb in a long page of closely printed type. After a splendid string of names, in which all the ladies of the bereaved family also figure, comes the phrase.“have the honor de vous faire part de la perte douloureuse qu’'ils ae ss viennent d’eprouver ea la personne de”— and then the name of the deceased. If it shall have been a religious funeral there will be always added “fortified by the sac- Faments of the church.” In France this latter is a social as well as a religious sign. The lettre de faire part is sent out after the funeral h aken place: and it is due to every person who has had the slightest con- acquaintance with the deceased, rmer domestic servants. Note, ales of the family take here all ° m: full dignities and titles. ‘The correct response to the lettre de faire part is a simple sending of your card. Fu-| Neral invitations demard both letters of Janey at the obsequies. ards this latter the French are very intimate male and even femai¢ walk behind the hearse, from house te church, from church to cemetery, in wind 2 vy and rain, and often take their deaths from the exposure. Mourning Rules. "The role of widow now begins. Mourning, | which is the exterior mark of pain, has its own rules, whi observed. All ‘h ought to be very severely ivilize? people w pired by the same thought: 7 istakab! nd outwardly, tion which is inward. their afflic- S| | The mourning of a widow, the longest of all, last two years. Mourning for a moth- er, father, moth w or father-in-law lusts nine months in erape and six months in second mourning. For grandparents, brothers, sisters. bro w it is six m or uncl cousin, six 1 down. inimitatie Fre eb exposition, in the little Looks called Car- nets de Deuil, issued gratuitously by the! great Parisian Magasins de Deuil. The Proper Costume. The grand, austere mourning of a widow lasts twelve months. Long dresses of black woolen material (Indian or Scotch cash- mere, vicuna or crepe de laine) with a “gar- niture” of English crape are the regulation. Note, that a black shawl is de rigueur for the first weeks. It may be replaced after- ward by a long coat or jacket, ornamented by wide bands of English crape. The long vail and the hat, bonnet or coiffure are of English crape. The gloves are peau de suede, the handkerchiefs large vignettes noirs, stockings black silk. The parasol iz black, the umbrella is black, recovered with rape. A Paris Widow. A Paris widow's costumes for the first six months of second mourning (after the first year: of austere mourning) may be of thick erape (crepon), grenadine, merino, armure or any new tissue of the kind, with orna- ments of embroidered crape, passementerie and unburnished bugles. The jackets, fol- lowing the season, may be adorned with lace or fur. The jewelry is of jet; for gloves. chevreau glace. The hat may have em- broidered crape, ottoman, fur or lace, and be decorated with jet pins, which later on become imitation pearls. ‘The first months of second mourning are to some minds, its most entrancing period. The time has come when attention may be properly paid to a neat fitting of the cor- sage and a modish draping of the skirts: and one may show in it a due respect for the prevailing ways, while at the same time yielding not an inch of the respect still duc to the departed. Even in the first twelve months there is a little world of difference between the dowdy dresses of widows whe think only of their dead-and-gone husband: and stronger hearts, who resolutely school themselves to resignation by smart dress- ing. This, also, is apart from the question of whether the austere mourning shall last a year. Some people only keep the crape six months and dive directly into violet and other sober shades. Nevertheless, it is ad- mitted there exists but one real set of rules the rules of conservative and _ respectful mourning; it is from this code I take the liberty of quoting. Period of Second Mourning. During the period of second mourning many stylish widows come out strongly at the present moment in flounces of lace, white and cream. They also wear white feathers. Some you might take for actress- es who wish to gain attention. But widows ought not to be fast and should avoid even the appearance of fastness. Along this line, however, there is a practice, the loudest and to the American mind the most detestable of all, of trimming a black skirt with broad bands of silver galloon. The last six months of a Parisian widow's second mourning (speaking always of the worthier ideals) comprises black lace, black silk ruffles and jet embroidery during three months, white and black stuffs during the second three months. Then, to the end, it is gray, plum, pansy, lilac. The gradations of these shades should be observed. The last fifteen days may be adorned with those flowers which are called pensive, violets, pansies and chrsanthemums, chrysanthe- mums especially,for they are par excellence the widow's flower. She may begin to wear her jewels again, commencing with pearls and amethysts. When the mourning is over and done with there will still be a light transition before { 1A He aii i iW i Beginning to Take Notice. one dresses exactly like the others. During he: term of widowhood the widow's coach- man will have been taken out of livery and put in simple black. Her visiting cards will have remained the same, except a heavy bordering of black. Her title of widow she takes only in legal acts. The people with whom she has worldly relations never add the word widow to her name, except that when they speak of he> to those who know her little or not at all they say “Madame So and So, who has lately become a widow.” This, which is an inflexible rule of preten- tious society in Paris, may need some ex- planation to Americans. Among the com- mercial classes of Pazis, the middle bour- | geois and below, the widow's title continue: to be given her, as in old time. “Madame Veuve (widow Duperron,” or, “Veuve Cli- quot.” Women of the nobility also continue the ancient title of dowager (douairiere) in cases where there is a son and heir. It is the upper middle classes who have thought to change the old French custom. About Visits. During the first weeks of her bereave- ment a widow receives no visits. After six weeks calls of condolence are to be made upon her by her intimates. During three months she must remain shut up at home. Then, breaking her voluntary cloture, it 1s permitted her to visit the people whom she knows well on their reception days, always | coming early, however, so as not to run ainst the other visitors. During the first r of her widowhood she abstains from pleasures, all di ctions. With the ond year she may jous lectures. She freely, and she re- eption day. > expiratic begin to give 5 nner party ttend concerts. 1 he cought to 1 of her mourning she clock teas. She may and permit herself to fhe mourning terminated, her reappearance into Two months | the world by ttending some small soiree, with v dancing. She may also be s e Theater Francais, then at the opera. in January she has ‘ commenced with the Theater Francais,Feb- ruary will bring her to the opera, March to the Renaissance and Sarah Bernhardt. The early spring will find her at the Salon and the horse show, glorious and new, and sum- mertime will bring her to lawn tennis, in a hygienic belt, without a corset. To Rei wry. It is good taste for a widow to remarry without eclat and without noise. ‘The legal ceremony at the mayor's office should bring together only the happy couple, their re- spective parents and their formal wit- nesses required by law. For the church marriage the most intimate friends are also asked; but the ceremony should be of the simplest, no singing, no flowers, no pomp. After her remarriage she will regularly avoid gowns in gray or mauve, as par- taking too much of the suspicion of second mourning. They might not please her sec- ond husband. She will also reject pink, as a color too gay. Neither will she wear chrysanthemums. On the other hand, she will continue to wear her former marriage ring. Her first marriage ts a fact which nothing can efface; her second husband will not find it wrong that she should pre- serve the sign of her first “lien,” as they say in French, and, if she have enfants, she owes them that mark of respect to the memory of their father. She therefore wears two rings. Should it be her destiny to pass into a third light through a second dark- ness she would wear three rings. “ About Stepehildren. The stepchildren of a remarried widow (should she marry a widower with chil- dren), or the stepchildren of any lady who marries a widawer with children, are often embarrassed to find for her a proper appel- lation, excluding “mother” and “mamma.” Some find it sufficiently familiar and of ex- cellent ton to give the stepmother her Christian name preceded by the word dame—“Dame Marie, Dame Louise.” On the other hand, a stepfather ought not to be addressed as “monsieur.” And for a young lady to speak of her mother’s second husbend as “Monsieur Charles” or “Our Monsieur” does seem a trifle gay. The actual habit is to invent some relation, an uncle or a cousin—“Uncle George.’ Or, when the gentleman has a title, as doctor or colonel, that solves a difficulty which is rather inherent in the relation than in the use of language. To speak of their step- father simply as “Monsieur Pasquier,” giving him only his last name, would be a mark of distaste, almost a formal decla- ration of unfriendliness. Lastly, it is not thought proper for a re- married widow to converse frequently with her second husband upon the subject of her first. To distract his attention from her own merits by referring him back to the good qualities of a third person is to place one’s self at a disadvantage. Widows, even in Paris, would find that trait unpleasant. STERLING HEILIiG. —— PREMIER PEER IN IRELAND. The ‘Six-Year-Old Duke of Let iter, Who Has a Monkey as a Crest. Maurice, sixth Duke of Leinster, Marquis and Earl of Kildare, Earl and Baron of Offaly and Viscount Leinster of Taplow, in Buckingham, has succeeded to the premier peerage of Ireland, with its accompanying titles, at the age of six, says the London Illustrated News. His earliest recorded ancestor was a Florentine noble, who after a sojourn in Normandy settled in England and became a great favorite with Edward the Confessor. At the conquest he was treated by the Normans as a fellow coun- tryman and retained the possessions he had acquired under the Saxon rule. He belong- ed to the Italian family of Gherardini, which name was transformed in course of time to Geraldini and established the Irish clan of the Fitzgeralds. Probably the youthful duke is not interested in this part of his ancestry, but a boy's taste for nat- ural history must in his case be stimulated by the legend of the fainily arms of the Of- faly Geraldines. John Fitzthomas Fitzger- ald, first earl of Kildare, is said to have had a narrow escape when un infant from a fire in the castle of Woodstock. The child was forgotten by the servants, who, when they returned to the room where they had left him, discovered that he had been saved by an ape. After that a monkey was adopted as the family crest. There is so much romance in his pedigree that he may be excused for any indifference to science. The checkered history of Ireland seems to be embodied in the annals of the Geral- dinés. The most interesting and ill-fated of them all was Lord Edward Fitzgerald, who conspired against the British government and was betrayed by Samuel Turner, the most infamous of Irish informers. Turner, by the way, was killed in a duel, but his services to the government were unsuspect- ed until recent years. Lord Edward's trea- son has been condoned by historians and has passed into the region of poetry, where the little Duke of Leinster may lisp it without fear when he is tired of monkeys. ‘The London Stone. From Goldthwaite’s Geographical Magazine. In the heart of the city of London stands an old house of worship—the Church of St. Swithin. It was rebuilt upon its former foundation by Sir Christopher Wren, who was also the architect of St. Paul's Cathe- dral. The traveler who visits it, or, perhaps, some bright boy or girl who is a reader of the G. G. M., must pass through the crowd of hucksters of fruit ard vegetables, and of women with baskets of flowers, which sur- round it, until the foundation is reached, and there, among the bluish stone slabs of which it is formed, will be found a targe, oblong, gray stone. This is London Stone. It was erected by the Romans, fifty years before the birth of Christ, to denote the central point of théir possessions in Britain. From it, we are told, all roads and dis- tances were measured, all divisions of prop- erty were reckoned, and it has been called | by_many—‘the heart of England.” There are fifty-one churches in Great Britain which bear the name of this excel- lent man—St. Swithin—who lived in the time of King Egbert, but it is the church in; the wonderful old city of London which holds this historic stone. — Try, Try Again. From Good Housekeeping. Before laying a carpet, washing the floor with turpentine, to prevent buffalo moths. A strip of wood back of the door where the knob hits the paper in opening. Powdered pipe clay, mixed with water, to remove oil stains from wall paper. For grease spots, equal parts of ether and chloroform. A teaspoonful of ammonia to one teacup- ful of water, for cleaning jeweiry. Keeping a dish of water on the back of a tight stove, to purify the air. Darning gloves in buttonhole stitch, re- peated till the hole is filled up. Sprinkilng the inside of damp gloves with violet powder. Use old matting under carpet. A pail of cold water, to purify the air of the room. ————- ++ -__ Footing a Big Bill. From Truth, AN EVIL OF THE AGE.. The Excessive Use of Liquor by Women of Culture. | BE ON THE INCREASE. IT? 18 SAID 10 So Far the Matter Has Been Han- dled Very Gingerly. SOMETHING MUST BE DONE. Written for The Evening Star. HERE IS AN EVIL under the sun which has within tne last decade made itself too manifest among the rank of fashion- able women to be longer ignored —an evil which may be politely called the overuse of alcoholic stimulants. If men were the offenders, another far more spe- cific name would be used, but this vice in connection with wo- men is so abnormal, so subversive of all the ideas and traditions associated with the sex, that there is a very strong ten- dency to hush up all mention of it. With the exception of one or two society papers of the bravest sort, and one or two purely ladies’ newspapers, the press—usually 80 fearless in denouncing social sores—has been nearly reticent on the matter. And it is an evidence of the deep feeling on this subject that even the comic papers have respected the pitiable lapse, and have re- frained from making jokes on a question of such serious import. But pretending not to see an evil is not the way to get rid of it. Doctors may call it by euphonistie scientific names; di- vines may not feel it to be their interest to move the question; W. C. T. U. socie- ties may consider the divinities of the avenues outside their efforts; but women of wealth and influenc® cannot longer afford to neglect a vice which is a blot upon their order, and which if suffered to take its course is quite capable of under- mining the whole glittering structure of their social world. The excessive use of wine and spirits by women of culture is a vice of this era. Many brilliant and famous men have been notorious drunkards; but 1 fail to remem- ber one famous woman witff this stigma darkening her name in all the past cen- turies, Our drawing room drinking is a phase of our special social life, and has sprung from the almost superhuman de- mands of society upon women—the social friskiress—the afternoon wit—the great fun —the “go"—which is expected at continual functions of so-called pleasure, and the necessity that the members of them should be up to their work. Growth of the Evil. And unfortunately the entering in of this vice is so natural that it is hardly ob- served. A glass of wine or a tablespoon- ful of brandy is privately taken some day to meet the social strain, and is found to be apparently restorative. The stimu- lant makes the taker feel that the dance or the dinner, which seemed to be impos- sible, is possible; and thus she is tempted to a renewal of the labor which she has just dropped from exhaustion. But she was already worn out, and the brandy taken only helped her to wear herself further out, and so even physically the last state of that woman was worse than the first. These little sips of spirit soon lead the taker of them beyond her own 3 the intervals between them de- the quantities increase, and before she is aware she has drifted into courses without excuse and full of danger; tor just as soon as a woman feels incompetent without her usual drink the barriers of safety have been already passed. It must be allowed that the conditions under which the terms of fashionable hard labor are carried on in their seasons are full of temptations to the use of stimu- lants—the heated vitiated atmospheres of ball rooms—the late hours—the overloaded stomachs from feasts of many courses— the numerous engagements following one arother in ceaseless routine—all these things clamor for artificial aid. But the champagne usually taken under such cir- cumstances only jogs the nerves, and so invites the use of some stronger liquor to quiet them. Stimulants cannot create strength, and a dose of wine that makes a tired woman feel “jolly,” that gives her “tone” and “go” is bought by such par- alysis of the nerves as disorders her per- ceptions, and such weakening of the brain as dulls her moral senses. For women ought to clearly understand that the ex- citement produced by wine results from an incipient paralysis of the nervous system. The physical results, however, are not the worst results. Dr. Anstie in his work on stimulants plainly says that “the essence of intoxication consists in the destruction of that power in the brain which retains or recalls moral and prudential impres- sicns.” And as it is also well known that there is in the brain substance a positive attraction for alcohol, a woman may well feel afraid to encourage a vice which is not only to fight from the outside, but which is powerfully aided by mutiny from within. The Effects of Alcohol. Neither can stimulation by alcohol be hidden. The youngest man knows whether his partner's high spirits are the natural joyousness of her nature or the result of champagne. If the latter, the flushed face, the loosened tongue, the reckless manner reveal at once the unhealthy brain action; the woman has unveiled to him the lowest part of her nature; and if for the hour he sympathizes and responds, real affection or real respect have no part in his words or actions. Any physician, any ordinary man, knows that the physical and moral effects | ot alcohol on a woman is to denaturalize ! her. But will any consideration of physical and moral health prevent woman from drinking of that cup which, in the end, “stingeth like an adder?” It is certainly always easy to check a virtuous impulse by a reflection that to carry it out will in- jure health, but how many check vice by-a similar consideration. There is, however, one circumstance that is favorable in this case—very few women drink because they like to drink. They often loath the spjrit they swallow. It is not their palate they desire to please, it is that they may saturate their nervous system, and thus be equal to their social engagements, and in their “highest feather” during them. But at what a frightful cost they do this let them ask their physician, and if he is truthful with them they will tremble to count it. Let the young ask the middle aged, and they will admit that if twenty or thirty years ago paralysis slew its thousands it now slays its tens of thousands. They will admit that in society there is a distinct moral relaxa- tion, that in the presence of men married women are more daring and reckless, and maidens more unabashed, and that the tendency of that society which calls itself “good” is to the particular license resulting from over stimulation from alcoholic drinks. Other fashionable faults may be con- doned, may admit of palliation, may be thrown off by an exercise of will, or dropped because they have become unfashionable, but the increase of drawing room drinku attacks society in its most vital part. Women are the salt of the world, but if the salt loses its savor, what then? Will not the decomposition of the social world follow? Men may drink with far greater impunity than women, both personally and socially. Personally they have more will power to resist the domination of alcohol; and socially their influence and example as slaves to it is far less disintegrating. It is a great truth that vice in a woman is more of a crime than the same vice in a man, For in social manners and customs con- duct is more than law, and women are the autocrats of conduct and custom. If, then, women should ever make certain vices tol- erable, there would be no barrier left against ther; and the influx of many sec- ondary passions would be natural and cer- tain. A drinking woman is a social crimi- nal of the worst type, and the idea is so shocking that it requires an effort of the will to contemplate her. What Society Owes to Itself. It is in the great social centers, where life is most vivid and brilliant, that this evil exists. Fortunately, though wide enough to deserve attention, it has not become gen- eral. It can yet be frowned down, or it can be ignominiously cast out of the circfe in which it most evilently prevails. But so- ciety owes to itself the restriction of the | circumstances which have contributed to the development of drawing room drink- ing. A pace of revelry that tempts to it is wicked; yet if ever an eight hours’ labor bill was needed it is for the fashionable women, and not for masons and bricklay- ers. Society can also frown upon moder- ate drinking, for moderate drinking is the open door to excessive drinking; and wo- men, anxious to please and loving the ad- miration their beauty incites, are far more ready to dare danger than to fly from it, while every compliance makes the next temptation more subtly irresistible. And yet a lovely girl with a champagne glass in her hand is very like Marguerite dally- ing with Faust’s glittering casket. The jewels and the wine may alike be the pre- lude to physical or moral suicide. The fact that a woman cannot get through her social life without stimulation is no excuse for it. The life had better be abandoned than the habit of constant little drinks formed. “Can’t get on without it,” and “everybody takes it,” are not reasons for ruin. For, admitting that there may be some physical advantage in alcohol up to a certain point, who can authoritively say in each case where physical advantage ceases? Yet at the precise point where physical ad- vantage ceases there sin begins; and it is hard to conceive of a woman, still reputa- ble, who holds sin, as a word, no longer in ner creed. On the contrary, it is in the natural moral elevation and religious faith of women that the great aid in repelling the seduction of alcoholic stimulation must be looked for. For if a woman can be penetrated with a religious enthusiasm, she is capable of sac- rificing any desire for it; that is, if she can be made to realize the existence of her soul, she will certainly respect her body, which 15 its dwelling place. For it is inadvertance, thoughtlessness, and ignorance which con- duce to this vice, far more than inclination; or it Is vanity, or a love of pleas- ure, or a _ desire to please, united with a nervous physique incapable of bear- ing the constant strain of fashionable life, without the spur of alcohol. And in its in-| cipient state the temptation is so natural, | and the fault so apparently venial, that danger seems afar off. Hence the value of bravely attacking, and not ignoring, the evil; for by constantly di- recting the attention of the public to any | given subject, an impression is sure to be finally made. To induce people to act, they must be saved the trouble of thinking; and an ally once made of this intellectual in- dolence, almost anything may be accom- plished. Our best theory of advertising proves this; for it is well understood that if one dealer can make his name occur to the public with ever so little more readiness than another dealer in the same business, that infinitesimal saving of trouble will pay. then, if the press will boldly arraign and condemn this social danger, a constant iteration will be certain to take effect. Before a bad custom becomes actual vice it is arrestable by public opinion; and the press can so assail drawing room drinking as to make it notorious, uncomely, unfash- jonable, and drive it out of toleration, and out of date. AMELIA E. BARR. +e. THE LINEN CLOSET. How the Dining Table Should Be Equipped With Tablecloth and Nap- kins. From Good Housekeeping. Most young housekeepers take a deep in- terest in the furnishing and equipment of their tables—not alone with the food sup- plies which are there to be served, the dishes which are to contain them, the ap- pointments which are to make everything neat and cozy; but as well and especially with the cloth by which the table is to be covered, the napkins which are to be placed beside each plate, whether for the members of her own household or for the visitor— friendly or critical, as the case may be— who shall occupy a seat at the board, or whose casual glance may rest thereon. Fortunately, she may give pretty free rein to her fancy in this portion of her realm, whatever fashion may dictate in other di- rections, If for any reason this tablecloth or that set of napkins commend themselves to her favor, they may be purchased and used for all ordinary occasions. Naturaliy, if in command of ordinary means with which to equip her dining room, she will have a special cloth, “with napkins to match,” to be brought forward on the more ceremonious occasions; but for ordinary service this is oe at all necessary, though, on the other hand, there is no reason why @ preference in that direction should not be followed. The matter is entirely in her own hands. The Tablecloth. The size of the tablecloth must, of course, be determined in a general way by that of the table. Where an extension is used, there should be one cloth large enough for the table when all of the teaves are in place; but such a spread would be entirely out of place when half of the surface had been taken away, and smaller cloths should be provided, of proper size for the ordinary use. While any approved pattern may be purchased, it is generally a mistake to select fancy colored linens. ‘The white is always standard, always appropriate, looks well and will be in fashion; but as much cannot be said for the colors, which may be popu- lar one season and entirely under the ban within a year. Besides, when the cloth has become so worn that it is not available for further use on the table, its utility is very much greater if white than if colored. in the former case it may be cut over and ac- ceptably used in a multitude of ways. Tablecloths may be bought either woven and finished complete, or by the yard. For kitchen tables, and not infrequently for gen- eral use, the latter is an entirely satisfac- tory way, while it is decidedly more eco- nomical. The ends may be secured by a simple hem or finished in any approved manner, and some very pleasing effects may be produced by the housekeeper skilled in such work and having a little spare time which may be thus employed. The Napkin. The napkin is now indispensable at all well-regulated tables, though it was not so very long ago that it was looked upon as a fancy attachment, adapted only to “stuck- up" people and to children. It ts historically interesting to read that almost as far back as books of etiquette are to be found, in- cluding such as have-come down to us in manuscript, from a time prior to the dis- covery of the art of printing, children were directed to wipe their hands and mouths with their napkins; but it does not appear that grown people were supposed to use these convenient articles earlier than the middle of the fifteenth century. At that time tablecloths, among the wealthy—and nobody else had them at all—were long enough to come nearly or quite to the floor, and the ample margin which hung over the edge of the table served the purpose for which the handcloth is now employed. When the napkin first came into use, it was handled quite differently from the pres- ent custom. For a time it was considered the thing to throw it over the shoulder; then it was placed upon the left arm, as it is now carried quite generally by waiters; being still later placed under the chin by one corner, while the lateral corners were carried around the body and tied at the back. This was the custom during the days of-elaborately frilled shirt fronts, and the philosophy of the fashion ts quite apparent. More recently it dropped into the lap, where it still reposes, though many individuals have habits of their own to which tenacious adherence is given, regardless of the usazes of society. One of the accomplishments of an “expert wajtress’ has long been the ability to fold a napkin in all manner of curious forms. ‘This fancy doubtless comes from the fashion, at one time prevalent, of folding the napkin for each member of the household or each guest in a different manner. This was a French custom, and at one time napkin etiquette ran so high that they were per- fumed with rose water and were changed with each course, at ceremonial dinners, A French work, published in 1650, which un- dertook to teach how properly to wait on tables and to fold napkins, gives the follow- ing forms in which the cloths might be folded: “Square, twisted, folded in bands and in the forms of a double-and-twisted shell, single shell, double melon, cock, hen, hen and chickens, two chickens, pigeon in a basket, partridge, pheasant, two capdns in a ple, hare, two rabbits, sucking pig, dog with a collar, pike, carp, turbot, miter, tar- key, tortoise, the holy cross and the Lor- raine cross. Breakfast napkins are considered of the right size if half a yard square; but for din- ner they should be three-quarters of a yard. ‘They are sometimes made an eighth larger. but those are too large for convenience, and there is no necessity for the extra size. soe B Overcoats and wraps—The talling snow.. Truth, 7 j OFFICERS’ UNIFORMS They Are Expensiveand Any Change is Costly, RESULT OF HIGH OFFICIALS The Latest Fad is Whistles for the Army. THE TAILORS’ es wr aS \ \ his sword. This is \ done “for the good of \ the service” and the necessary alterations will be made at the Springfield, Mass., armory, but not at Gen. Schofielfs expense or at the expense of the government. When the general com- manding the army gets a notion that the service will be improved by a change in an officer's uniform or equipment, the offi cers of the army must pay for it. If Gen. Schofield ordered a change in the regula- tion coat of the army officer tomorrow MONOPOLY HE LATEST FAD of Maj. Gen. Schofield whistle. The order has gone forth that every infantry officer must equip himself with this useful ar- ticle and that it must or in the regulation shoulder strap, the officers would have to throw aside the old coat or the olf shoulder strap and equip themselves anew. The same rule holds in the navy. So it |1s a pretty serious matter when the head of the army or the head of the navy gets @ notion in his head. In this case the whim of Gen. Schofield will cost none of the offi- cers more than $5, and the general's or- ders state that the armorer will do the work in job lots at bargain prices—$3.50 each, But it is pretty hard for an army officer to understand why he should pay even $3.50 for a change in his equipment, which is made at a government armory by a government employe, for something which may do the army a great deal of good, but which does not increase his income or pro- mote his personal comfort or efficiency. An Outfit is Expensive. An officer's outfit is expensive. The army outfit costs at the very lowest $180. Very few officers would be satisfied with an $190 outfit. It is made of cheap cloth, poorly finished. It is “regulation” and the com- manding officer would have to pass it. But an officer would feel very mean in one of these outfits at an official reception. From $180 the cost of the outfit ranges up to $350. Most of the difference is in the cost of the material of the uniform. A naval officer's outfit costs even more. At-the Navy Department they say that in round numbers a “good” outfit will $450. There are 1,410 officers in the mavy on the active list. If the Navy Department took a notion to alter the character of the uniform and equipment of its officers so radically that the present outfit would be useless, it would cost $634,500 to make the change. All of this would come out of the pockets of the officers themselves. It is very well to make officers pay for their own outfits, but they cannot see the justice of paying for changes which depend on the whims of a superior officer and which ben- efit no one but Uncle Sam. Changes That Have Been Made. It would not be a novelty for the War Department to order a complete change in the army uniform. In the early history of the government it was done rather fre- quently. Washington ordered the first change in the continental uniform in 1777. Up to that time the army button was white. Under Washington's order the regu- lation uniform was to consist of “a dark blue or black coat reaching to the knes and full trimmed, the lapels fastened back, with ten open worked buttonholes in yel- low silk on the breast of each lapel and ten large regimental buttons at equal dis- tances on each side, three large yellow regi- mental buttons on each cuff and a like number on each pocket flap.” At the same time an order was issued for the officers of the navy to he ae 2 themselves with blue coats, with ri facings; red waistcoats and blue breeches; the coats trimmed with “yellow” buttons. The marine officers of that day wore green coats with white fac- ings, white breeches edged with green, white vests, silver epaulets, black gaiters and white buttons. i Two years later Washington ordered an- other change in t uniform of the army. The regulation cout thereafter was blue, the facings of white, buff or red and the buttons for the cavalry white. This lasted until 1732, when orders were issued to equip the infantry with white buttons, the coat to be of blue with red facings and white lining. By 1796 another change had been made. The infantry officer wore a dark blue coat reaching to the knee, full trim- med with scarlet lapels, cuffs and s' cape, white trimmings, white under black stock and cocked hat with white binding.” In 1810 the officers of the general staff were put into top boots with gilt spurs and other minor changes in their uniform were made. In the corridor of the War Department building stand dummies dressed in varied uniforms, intended to represent periods in the history of the service. They do not pretend to cover all of the changes made in the army uniform. To do so would re- quire a regiment of dummies. Items of Cont. Nowadays changes in uniform and equip- ment are less frequent. The last radical change in the naval uniform was made eleven years ago. But the officers live in daily dread of another. Here is the outfit with which a naval officer would have to provide himself if a complete change of pattern was ordered: Special full dress, $80: adress, frock coat, $45 to-$55; service uniform (ex- tra blouse), $80; two pair blue trousers, $30; overcoat, $45 to $00; cap, $15 to to $20; full dress belt, 3 sword knot, $2.50 to $4; helmet, $2. der straps, ©: gloves (8 pair), rain clothes, $10 to $25 The “special full dress’ a feature of the naval uniform. It is worn on the greatest State occasions—in honor of the President of the United States or some foreign naval officer of high rank. With it is always car- ried the clumsy chapeau. The army has no special full dress. Here is the army offi- cer’s outfit: Undress uniform, $25 to $60; forage cap with ornaments, $5 to $11; shoulder straps, %; dress uniform, $45 to $90; shoulder knots, $8 to $13; headdress, $15 to sword or saber, $19 to $21; dress belt, $10 to $15; field belt, $22.82; overcoat, $45 to $95. Officers Can't Be Shabby. In some cases the variety in cost depends on the branch of the service; in general 3 shy $2 to $4; it depends on the quality of the material | and the cut. Although full dress is not worn by officers in either branch of the service very often, no officer likes to ap- pear on a state occasion in cheap or shab- by garments. The special full dress of the navy is very seldom worn. The officers get out these uniforms from cedar chests and camphor bags when a reception is given at the Executive Mansion and very often one of them finds that a $W# coat, which has been worn only once or twice, is too large or too small for further service. | If it cannot be altered a new coat must be ordered. As for the dress uniform, an offi- cer does not wear it a dozen times perhaps | during his three years of “shore duty.” The officers who are assigned to duty at Washington wear about the departments the sack coat or the cuta y of everyday life. 1 knew one porpoise-like Meutenant who used to go rolling up Pennsylvania | avenue every morning in a slouchy sack suit, with a little parcel of luncheon under his arm—for all the world like a $900 clerk in the Treasury Depariment, the sole sup- port of a large family. You cannot tell a naval Heutenant from any other clerk in the:Navy Department by his outward ap- pearance. As for social entertainments— the only time an army or navy officer can wear a uniform at them is when the Presi- dent or the Secretary of War or the Secre- tary of the Navy gives a reception, or when there is an army or navy wedding. Even is the army officer's | be set in the hilt of | Jat the germans given by officers army and navy, famous for many j the social world, the officers appeared in conventional evening dress, It is not eti- quette alone which demands this. Officers detest wearing their uniforms, because they are hot, heavy and uncomfortable. They always put them on under protest. M: poly of the Work. One reason for the expensiveness of the officer’s equipment is the fact that a few Washington and New York tailors have a monopoly of uniform making. Uniforms must be made according to a very precise rule. Even the buttons have an exact re- lation to each other, which the average tailor would hardiy understand. A few tailors here and in New York have made @ specialty of uniform work. The who goes to an outsider usually finds so many little faults in the cut of his coat jor in ics finish that he spends a week or two having it altered to come within the regulations. The experienced uniform tailor needs only the measurements of an officer. He can be trusted to turn out without supervision a uniform that will at least pass inspection. Probably four-@fths of the uniform work of Washington is done in j the Shop of one tailor. He has so little competition t he can get very good Prices for his work. He i ccommode ting and never hesitates to trust a young officer for a part of his outfit. He has had hun- dreds of them, young and old, on his books and his debtors today are scattered all over the world, from Rio to Hong Kong and jfrom Hong Kong to Naples. When you | figure on $450 as the cost of a naval outfit, do not consider that the maximum limit of cost. A naval outfit m&y be made to cost almost anything. A fine outfit will cost as much as $1,000. The epaulettes can cost | $00. Admiral Porter had a pair Which cost $250. The epaulettes are of gold wire and a man named Starkey spent a million dol- lars establishing a plant in London for the | Manufacture of this wire. One admiral is sata to have spent $700 for his full dress. uniform a few years ago. His full dress coat cost $175, his epaulettes $20) and his chapeau $50. It happens not infrequently that a young officer who wants to make + |great show spends $1300 on his outfit. Importance of Buttons. The inter-relation of the buttons on @ uniform is just as much a matter of regu- lation as the cut of a coat. The general ‘wears two rows of buttons on the breast of his frock coat, twelve in each row, placed by fours. ‘The distance between the rows is 5 1-2 inches at the top and 3 1-2 inches at the bottom. The lieutenant general is en- titled to only ten buttons in each Tow, ar- ranged in upper and lower of three ed by threes. Tt poe of twos. e colonel, lieutenant colonel and have nine buttons in each row artanged-at — fem on the captain and heuten- Seven buttons in each y aoe row at equal cis- There are different designs, of only for the buttons of the arny, the wave and the marine corps, but for the different branches of the service. There are the in- fantry, artillery and cavairy bu‘tons, the engineer's button, the ordnance corps but- ton, the button of the marine and the navy button. The navy button, by the way, is made in England, because no American manufacturer has been able to make bronze which the sea air will not tarnish. All of these buttons the rmy and navy tailor must keep on hand and sew on a¢- cording to regulation. Tt is not often that an officer ts trans- ferred from one branch of the service to another, so he does not often change his buttons, but passing ‘from one grade to another he frequently has to ave their ar- rangement altered. This is one of the small- er expenses incidental to a change in rank. In the navy every change in rank means a new shoulder strap, which costs &. Every additional stripe on a coat sieeve costs $5, and as there are three uniform coats in every outfit, the stripes add $15 to the cost of being promoted. A change in the bar on an epaulette costs from £ to 54. or every two grades, a new full dress belt must be bought at a cost of $15. The gold lace on a full dress suit will not last more than five years and it is renewed at an expease of $15. The glory of gold lace and gilt buttons is gratifying, but it is expensive GEORGE GRANTHAM RALN, oe. SOME ADVICE TO DRIVERS. A Little Sense From the Rider and Driver, A drive> gave his horse six quarts of oats about two hours earlier than he was usually fed. The harness was being put on while the horse was feeding. The driver managed to get his breakfast in the meantime. fhortly everything was in readiness and the horse was started on a loag drive. The driver urged the animal with the whip. At the end of thirty miles the horse began to ignore that inst-ument. He went slower and slower; finally he fell, dead. Post-mor- tem examination revealed the fact that the oats had not been digested. The lifting of the stomach gave evidence of having been in a high state of irritetioe. It was plain that the horse’s previous accumulation of nerve power had been largely exhausted in defending the terrible irritation set up by the sharp points of the ed oats. Had the horse been permitted to stand, or lie down for an hour after feeding he would have prepared not only a reserve of material to sustain himself, but the amount of nou: ishing material accumulated would have helped him endure his exhaustive joey. Time is required for the digestion of food before beginning a long muscular strain: It must also seem clear that when the effort at hard labor ends, time should be given for rest before taking food. ——_———eee______ HAS A TASTE FOR WEDDING CAKE. A Post Office Rat Making Free in Cleveland Wt of our post office queried a handler of Cleveland mati, addressing a writer for the Leader. “He is a kleptomaniac, a born thief, I guess,” con- tinued the clerk, “He steals letters and we cannot keep him from it. He has @ taste for wedding cake, too, and his conscience never restrains him from indulging it. We have set a trap for him repeatedly, but he is too wise for us.” The clerk then dis- coursed concerning the habits of the distin- guished rodent. “He hides among the rub- bish of the room,” he said, “and has sev- eral means of ready access to the out- }side world. He takes charge of when we are out. The other day he was seen sitting upright on the table nibbling at a package of hicke nut kernels which happened to be side-tracked during transit through the mails. Not long ago a ‘box of wedding cake got lost. A card was | mailed to the sender to come and correct the address. She called, but when we looked for the package it was gone. A | feeling something like that which crept | over Old Mother Hubbard when she went to the cupboard to get her ‘poor dog a bone’ gradually gained possession of us. The rat had made off with the cake and the closest search revealed only scattered ts of precious sweetmeat. We thought for a long time that some inquisitive person was taking certain missives, but our suspicions proved to be unfounded. One day we dis- covered several of the missing letters near a hole made by the rat under a desk. He had taken them as far as he could and then had bade them good-bye. ‘The rat makes the correcting clerk's of- fice his principal rendezvous. It ts there that stray letters and packages are held for | a time to ascertain their correct address oF | for additional postage. From Pack. | Postmistress (to Mr. wipe trying to separate stemps.— you ever try rubbing the gummy side of postage stamps on your hair, to prevent them from sticking together?” 1 Mr. Frontrow.—“No; I never thought o8 that. I'l try it, some time. Good-day!”