Evening Star Newspaper, January 20, 1894, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 20, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. 8 IN \\ \y {US Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. ° OMETIMES I LIE awake nights won- dering what kind of a surprise society siris will spring on an unsuspecting world next. This so- licitude on my part is entirely unneces- sary. I know, be- cause Dorothy ts as \ good as a private wire for keeping me informed of the lightning changes, ‘and she does not wait for an executive ses- sion to unfold her secrets, either. For sev- eral days past, however, there has been something in the air that made me posi- tive that I was living over a mine that might explode any day. I ‘noticed that Dorothy and the executive of the culinary department were holding grave conferences each evening after dinner, and, excepting the maid and Elaine, Dorothy’s guest from Chicago, nobody else was in it. I came upon the secret quite innocently. As I Passed the door of Dorothy's room one evening a perfectly terrible odor greeted me. It was the aroma of onicns. Dorothy and Elaine had excused themselves early, and I at once concluded that Dorothy had the sore throat and was trying her nurse's old remedy, roasted onion poultice. I knock- ed on the door. There was a clatter of dishes, then Elaine exclaimed, as if in dis- may: “Mercy, who can it be?” Dorothy pettishly replied: “It's Sara, of course; she’s always snooping around”—which was & very unsisterly remark, to say the least— and then she threw the door open. Talk about steerage passage! I was in the steer- ge once, but such a conglomeration of smells as rushed in my face from that Toom never greeted my nostrils before. (hey were hard to classify, but were of the onion oniony, and I detest onions. To tell the truth, the odor nearly took my breath, but Dorothy caught me round the waist and whirled me into a chair, and Elaine ®ung the door shut. Then they both began | Not Yet “ow to laugh at my disgusted looks, as I took in the singular viands on the old Chippen- dale table at my elbow. There was a cut glass dish, with a few onions floating in Vinegar; a celery glass. with new hot house onions in it; a small dish, with a few | onions, and two empty bowls. There was | also a dish of celery, and half covered by | the napkins was a plate of graham bread. Two Dainty Maids. “It ts just a new fad, Sara,” said Elaine &t last, when she saw I was hopelessly be- wildered, “and a very sensible one, too,” added Doroth: “if it does smell to high heaven,” concluded Elaine, and then they went off into fresh shrieks of laughter. ‘When they were at last tired out, Dorothy | Fang and had the feast cleared away, and | hen she and Elaine settled down before j the open grate to tell me about it. I al- most neglected the story in jooking at the | + girls. Eiaine is a brunette. One of the richly colored dark creatures whose spark- | ling eyes, bright face and regal style re- | mind you of a splendid Jacqueminot rose. Her favorite lounging gown when in her reom is a red India silk Mother Hubbard. | It has a plain yoke and a rose plaited ruf- fle of silk passing around the neck forming a little V in front. 2 are just two widths of the top and bottom, leaving a fou ruffle to fall over the hand. The skirt of and the “Hubbard” falis in accordeon plaits from yoke to foot, and I'd be afraid to say how ‘many yards around the skirt Elaine 1s perfectly devoted to this fortable rig, end positi “trussed up” for callers, except home day, and as she dislikes to k friends waiting she pl: sort of an overgarment success. It ts made of black trained godet plaited prince I se fronts turned back and big angel sleeves, the whole thing Ii with thin red taffeta silk and bordered with a nar-| row band of sable; set into the undet-arm | seams at the waist are biack satin Fibbons. These draw the back to fit waist and tie the fullness down in front. It is one of the richest and handsomest house gowns I ever saw, and just enough “dare” in her she pleases, despite fashi gowns are to stay in one’s bed room. It! would certainly require a lot of self-denial | to refrain from. wearing a gown that is ir- | Fesistibly becoming and that made one | look almost like an Indian princess, though, perhaps, Indian princesses are less sumptu- | ously clad. ‘ | Dorothy looked just as kissable as Elaine. | ‘There is a good deal of Dovethy, both high | up and wide out is fair and sweet and wholesome; one of the girls who can | wear any color and any style and lvok per- | fectly lovely in it. That evening she had! on a new tea gown, which, as usual, she @esigned herself. It was pink all-wool cxshmere and cost her 50 cents a yard. Rose-in-bloom made a bargain with her that as the gown will be a little passe by spring Dorothy is to give it to her to be | green to make her a spring frock— Slaine has | wear it when | $ flat that tea but that’s another story. The cashmere is! made Mother Hubbard from the neck, gathered close up about the throat and the fullness of the waist fitted to a tight lining. The skirt has a little bit of a train, with a ten-inch flounce of black lace headed by | three rows of black velvet, About the neck is a collar of black velvet edged with black lace. The sleeves have five ruffles at the top, each edged with black velvet, the lower part of the sleeve being black velvet. At the waist Is a band of black velvet with long | ends. Of course Elaine's dress cost dollars where Dorothy's cost cents, but the cash- mere was almost the prettiest. What do you think? But That ix Another Story. But as I was saying about the onions. Elaine gave me one of her coaxing pats and said in extenuation of her “crime,” “Now, Sara, you are to be a dear and not scold us for making the house smell like the Capitol Velvet a Jet. restaurant. You see we eat the onions for our health, and the odor is all gone by morning.” “Do you eat them by the half bushel,” I demanded, as I recalled the onion feast I had interrupted, “and why can't you eat them at dinner? I think it is rather a ple- beian taste, for my part.’ “Dear me, Sar: uu aze so obtuse,” com- plained Dorothy. “if you must know it, onions are the very latest cosmetic, and the more onions you eat, the clearer the skin!” I tried to look interested, but I'm morally certain that I only succeeded in looking idiotic. How could one look otherwise over such a statement as that? “It is English, you know,” Dorothy went on. “Mr. Walter Besant, who condescends to turn his literary talent in the direction of writing woman's stuff for an English journal, commends the onion very highly. He says that onions cooked or raw aid di- gestion and beautify the complexion, He thinks that the best time to eat them is just before retiring. We have not quite decided whether we like them best cooked or in the natural state. Beside the onions we eat two slices of graham bread, and drink a bow! of | Steaming hot milk. The graham bread is for the complexion and the hot milk is fat- tening and strengthening. The celery is considered an excellent anodyne for the nerves.” Now, just think of it. their ‘teens needing “strengtheners.” At their age their grand- mothers used morning dew for a cosmetic and swept the “keeping room” and made the family beds for nerve tonics. A heap of good it will do Elaine and Dorothy to eat onions and celery, after feasting on olives and salted almonds, tea slops and black coffee, lobster salad and teed punch, fried oysters, sausage, stuffed turkey, chocolate creams, mince pie and other highly season- ed solids that society is a slave to. After one season they won't need hot milk either, for they will get fat enough without it—fat and flabby, and if you don’t believe it, just look at the women who have submitted to that regimen for half a dozen seasons. Onions are bad enough, but they won't save any woman who lets her appetite get away with he- judgment. I didn’t argue the ques- tion with the girls, however. If it isn’t onions it might be something worse. A Bewitching Evening Frock. Elaine, whose figure is statuesque, some- times affects the severe in dress, and is most fetching in it. One of her party dresses is a yellow moire that will stand alone, and naturally the eleagnce of the material is its own garniture. ‘The corselet skirt has a long train, with one wide and two very narrow rows of velvet at the foot. if Two girls yet in herve tonics and the big puffed sleeves and the bertha of yellow moire are trimmed with bands of 1 She never wears any jewels . but carries a black feather fan, which is spangled. Another one of her evening gowns is a sensible dancing length, It is a pink mirror velvet, which shades into yellow and purple. The citcle skirt has close sides and is striped to the back ce oe Severely Elegant. breadths with rows of cut Jet insertion. ‘The bodice, which is quite decollete, has big | puifed sleeves of pink silk, with biack lace | shoulder caps, and the front of the bodice | has a striped arrangement of jet velvet and pink silk. Siaarty ac ‘s stamped all} over with styie, but I think a gu! of modest means can make one almost as handsome out of changeable taffeta silk or gloria of any shade she likes, and can use velvet instead of jet. made up with ruby or petunia v be a “howling suce me. At a tea last week one of the receiving ladies wore a gown of elegant Now, the disposition of that qualifying word marks a serious destinction. It is as marked as the difference between a ques- tion of privilege and a privileged question. The woman is no longer young, and was always plain, with thin sandy hair, which She declines to arrange becomingly, and a sallow complexion. She has brains, but they are not supplemented by good ‘taste. In fact, she is one of the creatures who would wear crape trimmings on a black velvet bonnet or make cabinet calls bare- headed. Consequently, she had no more sense than to do herself up in a dove gray bengaline. Such a iovely shade and such exquisite quality, but when she put it on she was all of a color from her thin hair to her boots, which lacked two buttons. As a kind of after thought, some black lace was added to the garniture, which softened the effect a little, but even that was spoiled by its arrangement. The front was draped with a three-cornered lace shawl. An exquisite piece of thread lace that any woman might feel proud to pos- sexs. Laid plainly over the front of the dress it would have formed one of the sty- lish apron overskirts, but, instead, it was drawn in three wrinkles across the abdo- men, and the effect was to make it look exactly as though the lace had been torn and sewed in three seams. Such execrable taste displayed by a woman who has money enough to hire somebody to dress her prop- erly always sends me home with a sick headache. Learning Her Lesson, At one of the cabinet houses last week a very young girl not yet “out,” watched from quiet corners the ebb and flow of callers, her bright eyes shyly taking in the hollow shams of “official” society and her little heart beating with pleasurable antict- pation of the time when she too can say “Ah, happy to see you. Your face—or your name—is very familiar to me. Dark mawn- in’--or bright as the case may be. Have some refreshments? 0, do. No? So sorry. Lovely time. Good mawni She was learning her lesson well, too, for I saw her with one of the young receiving ladies in an alcove during a lull in the tide of callers, practicing the “diplomatic” heart-high handshake. Of course, I smiled —a little grimly perhaps, for I detest un- Americanisms, but the girl was so pretty, one could forgive her anything short of a crime. Anyhow the Prince of Wales style of protecting a boll under his arm is pre- ferable to the queer kind of courtesy which some anglomaniacs are trying to introduce in the “American court.” My little friend wore a plain white India silk. The baby waist was cut too low for her thin should- ers, but the bertha and full sleeves of lace with shoulder knots of baby blue ribbon almost hid the bones. The silk was shirred at the waist-line, and from under a blue vet would Dorothy informs M A Dainty Toilet. ribbon belt fell a lace ruffle. The skirt was made slightly full all around and had three full ruffles of lace with a row of blue bows down the front. Her hair was fair and was tied with a big bow of baby blue ribbon, below which fell four or five thick curls. It was an ideal dress for a young girl, but maybe the fact that an ideal girl was inside of it had something to do with the charm that it seemed to possess, The Eton jacket has a new mission in life. The radical change in top garments for women has made ridiculous the very close skirted coats of last winter and the season before. They were hopeless, because no amount of revers, cape or sleeve would take away the skimped skirt, but some bright woman outwitted the cloak makers. Take the passe coat and cut it off right at the waist line, bind or hem it up and there you are. It needs no new trimming, but should be skin-tight, Some of the half-worn sealskin jackets have been treated to the same method of curtailment, Pretty? Well, to be candid, they are not. Yet, a stylish girl can carry them off very well indeed, and they have the merit of economy. A preity girl that | know is going to ap- pear at one of the state receptions in this half empire gown. is very tall and her eyes are as brown as the riotous curls on her queenly young head. I think she will be one of the very prettiest girls there in this petunia velvet with threesrows of gold insertion on the short trained skirt and a sash of yellow liberty silk. Hints for Women Who Travel. Not long ago 1 ad occasion to take a day and night trip, and in the section 1 occupied was a young lady. She was well dressed, bright and companionable, and apparently a girl of means, but she either knew nothing about traveling in comfort or was ve less. Before the shades or night fell she had borrowed nearly every toilet article that 1 possessed, except my teoth brush, and I rat expected a re- quest for that, but she refrained. 1 jotted down in my mental note book a resolve to tell Dorothy that she must never be so irexcusably careless as to start on a trip unsupplied with the toilet’ appurtenances she was accustomed to at home. ‘The first thing the young person borrowed of me was my hair brush, and the last was my shoe polish. 1 was glad to loan her that, for goodness knows she needed it badly enough. Girls who have no maids to look after their traveling bags will per benefited by the ii 1 rothy. 1 never car ing cases. ‘They are all bottles an heavy to carry and take up too much One of the xaslight greens | material. | rcom in one’s hand bag. There are mail | Jeather cases in which are comb, button | hook, nail file, tooth, nail and hair brusnes, | and I always carry that, and a small hand glass and curling irons can be added. ‘nen 1 have a small soap case, celluloid is the lightest, in which to put a piece of your favorite soap. If you use it, a little can of almond meal is nice to have with you. 1 always carry also an ounce or twp of pow- dered borax in“a box, a tiny box of flaxseed, for possible cinders, a two-ounce bottle ot alcobol, half ounce of spirits of camphor, a:small bottle of vaseline, a tiny vial of some soothing drops and an ounce bottle of glycerine and bay rum for the hands, Of course a fine whisk broom is necessary. 4 rarely ever use bottle polish on my boots. 1 never have found any yet that was not ruinous to shoe leather. 1 use grease biack- ing or vaseline, applied with a soft cloth. One of the large, soft pocket books, with two snaps, makes the neatest kind of a traveling work box. It has two pockets, one on each side of a center one, which has a clasp of its own. Cut a piece of felt or thick flannel just right to slip in one pocket. Put in it two or three medium- sized needles, two small ones for mending gloves and a large one to sew on shoe but- tons; fill the rest of it with pins, Get three or four machine bobbins and fill each one on the machine. One of 36 white, 40 black, black silk, tan or gray sil, for mending gloves, and another wound with heavy black linen, will be about right. Take a piece of bonnet wire, the heavy, round Sort, say six inches long, roll around it two or three yards of strong, fine cord, and double the ends over so that it will slip Into the pocket book easily. In the other pocket put a pair of shoe strings, if you wear laced: shoes, a pair of corset laces, a thimble, tiny pair of scissors, a lot of hairpins and. half a yard of elastic ribbon, such as is used for garters. In the center pocket put half a dozen medium-sized pear! buttons, a few hooks and eyes, large and small safety pins, a dozen black belt pins and some shoe buttons. With this list of things you are equipped for almost any emergency. Size up the pile of bottles and things mentioned, and make of satine, or any stout thin material,a bag that will hold them, put a draw string at the top. ‘This bag of stuff will He easily on the bottom of your hand bag and will not get mixed up with your hose and handkerchiefs. if you are addicted to smelling salts, add a bottle. If you are a slave to the tea habit you can carry a bottle of tea leaves and make you a cup in the little tin case in Which you carry your alcohol “stove,” or ‘spirit lamp. A small portfolio supplied with all the materials for writing is a necessity. Secure before starting upon your journey maps and time tables of all the roads over which you travel, and supply yourself with plenty of good, coarse print reading matter. It is hardly necessary to remark that a careful girl carries her own towels and wash cloths or sponges, a coarse linen cloth is preferable to a sponge, because it “takes hold better.” Of course the traveling night dress should be long and made of dark flannel, cashmere or sateen. To this list can be added the little personal trifles that stamp individuality. It Is always a good plan to carry a shaw! or rug and a box of “keepable” lunch, if the journey is to be a long one, because there are many accidents and dela’ it is often a long time between where there are no dining cats. ‘The giri who supplies herself as indicated will be secure from making herself a nuisance to the traveling public. SHNORA SAKA. THE STEAMING KETTLE Five O'Clock Tea May Be a Pleasant Feature of the Day. Written for The Evening Star. The lovers of the cup that cheers em- brace; all classes and conditions of human- ity, from the celebrated Mrs. Gamp and her familiar Betsy Prig down to the fre- quenters of the tea tables of today. Num- erous little elegancies are part and parcel of the ante-prandial refreshment. The foibles of women and the vagaries of fash- fon have from time immemorial been sub- jects of sarcasm and unkind criticism by the masculine moralist. But as regards the tea table fad his lips are sealed. He enjoys the prominence given him at a tea- drinking ceremony,and.approves and smiles serenely. From the time when Adam transferred all the blame of a certain crooked little transaction to Eve until now women have tried to make their brothers or some other woman's brother happy by an appreciation of his many sterling qual- ities of head and heart. She makes him happy by flattery and smiles and by being a good Mstener. And now comes tea, an invaluable aid in the performance. It is night. Numerous silk and lace petti- coated lamps shed a soft mellow light through the room and over the little tea table and its mistress. It is the golden op- portunity for confidential gossip. It is the supreme hour when friends meet in pleas- ant conclave to discuss men and books and the events of the times. All anxiety is crowded out of the mind, and friends meet and are at their best, fitting ordinary words to easy meters, chatter- ing of themseives. There is no effort to be instructive or sarcastic or terrible. The latest engagement, the success of the last german and the’ probable happiness or otherwise of the recent victims of a matri- monial venture. The dainty refection bears no resemblance to that of the country tea, where the table is laden with thé good things found in perfection in the country. The town tea table can only claim a far-away relationship to it in the delicious nectar both tables supply. The Craze for Pretty Chinn. The tea table is an aggravated symptom of the craze for ceramics, that has the women of today in its clutches. The forti- tude and endurance of the early Christian martyrs could not have been more pro- nounced than that of the nineteenth cen- tury woman in the exercise of her greatest pleasure, shopping for odd china. The thought of finding something absolutely unique, is like the scent of powder to a veteran war horse. For odd, ugly and beautiful china women will sell their souls or go mad. When the fragile cups and saucers are found and purchased the fever rages and pangs of anxiety are suffered until the treasures are displayed to envious friends. ‘There is positively no limit to U > styles in table decorations. Specimens of crown Derby, royal Worcester, Sevres and Limo- ges meet and fraternize in the symposium care and! of today. And more delicious than the nectar of the gods is the fragrant tea sipped by a china collector from a cup of which she proudly assures her friends there are no duplicates. At the tea table madam reigns supreme. She is happier than an empress, for she knows her subjects are loyal. A’ woman's hand moves in and out among the tea things, arranging her cups and the shining urn, She pours the bubbling water into the Mandarin tea pot, it is low and dumpy, and it has a tiny bit knocked off its priceless nose. The tea is caravan tea, brought across the desert on camels to escape dampness on shipboard. From the tea pot the tea is poured into tiny cups, blossom- ing all over with little pink flowers, the leaves parted under each handle to let a Paul and Virginia pass through. Square lumps of sugar are taken up by the claw- shaped tongs and transferred to the cups. Cream is poured into the cups from a littie squatty pitcher and the tea 1s handed around to the guests, who stir it with little souvenir spoons picked up in far dis- tant lands; wafers and tea biscuits com- plete the enchantment of the fairy-like repast. An Attractive Picture. ‘The tea caddy, over which much gray matter and money may be squandered, ts one of the essentials of a well-equipped ta- ble. Vases of long-stemmed roses add to the tout ensemble. A wood fire glowing on the tiled hearth adds to the beauty of the scene; it is charming and withal so nt- ful, so changing. The flames curl and sparkle and die. The red coals wink and glimmer and gather white robes of ashes about them, and sputter and sigh as if en- downed with life. The tea cloth is an important feature of the outfit, and it is susceptible of many vi riations. It may be white or cream col- ored, of satin, silk or sheer white linen, embroidered in silks, in designs of trailing roses, violets or carnations, to harmonize with the decorations of the china. If the financial depression ts not too keenly felt ‘he cloth may be bordered with old rose point lace, and be as gorgeous as a cathe- dral altar cloth. ‘Then there is the tea cozy, a sort of wad- ded nightcap, to cover the teapot. It ts made of velvet or satin and a monogram embroidered on It. It is very ugly, but that is forgiven, because by its use the tea is kept steaming hot. Amid all this array of beautiful china and warmth and color the hostess wears a tea gown, a wonderful cre- ation of clinging draperies and cascades of eceamy lace and ribbons—ana tne suvjug- tlon of man is complete THEY NEVER MARRY. Men and Women Who Elect the State of Single Blessedness. SPINSTERS ARE OFTEN A BLESSING. | | But the Same Cannot be Said of Old Bachelors. THE FAULT IS WITH THE MEN Written for The Evening Star, OMEN WHO HAVE devoted themselves for religious purposes to celibacy have in all ages and coun- tries of the world re- ceived honor, but those upon whom celibacy has been forced, either through the influence of un- toward circumstances, or as @ consequence of some want or folly in themselves, have been objects of most unmerited contempt and dislike. Unmerited, because it may be broadly asserted that until the last genera- tion no woman in secular and social life remained unmarried from desire or from conviction. She was the victim of some natural disadvantage, or some unhappy circumstance beyond her control,and there- fore entitled to sympathy, but not to con- tempt. Of course, there are many lovely girls who appear to have every advantage for matrimony, and who yet drift into spinster- hood. The majority of this class have probably been imprudent and over-stayed their market. They have dallied with their chances too Jong. Suddenly they are aware that their beauty is fading. They notice that the suitable marriageable men who hung around them in their youth have gone away; and that their places are filled with mere callow youths. Then they realize their mistakes, and are sorry they have thought being “an awfully silly little thing” and “having a good time” the end of their existence. Heartaches and disap- pointments enough follow for their punish- ment; for they soon divine that when wo- men ceases to have men for lovers, and are attended by school boys, they have written themselves down already as old maids. Closely allied to these victims of folly or thoughtlessness are the women who re- main unmarried because of their excessive vanity—or natural cruelty. “My dear! I was cruel thirty years ago, an4 no one has asked me since.” This confession from an aunt to her niece, though taken from a play, is true enough to tell the real story of many an old maid. Their vanity made them cruel, and their cruelty condemned them to a lonely, loveless life. Close obser- vation, however, among the unmarried wo- men of any one’s acquaintance will reveal the fact that it is not from the ranks of The Fretful Old Maid. silly or cruel women that the majority of old maids come. Men do not, as a rule, dislike silly women; and by a wise provi- sion of nature, they are rather fond of mar- rying pretty, helpless creatures who cannot help themselves. Neither are cruel women universally unpopular. Some lovers like to be snubbed, and would not value a wife they had to seek upon their knees. There are therefore always chances for the silly and cruel women. Something Lacking. It is the weak, colorless women, who have privately strong prejudices, and pub- licly no assertion of any kind, that have, even in youth, few opportunities. They either lack the power to love strongly, or they lack the power to express their feel- ings. They have not the courage to take any decided step. They long for advances, and when they are made, recoil from them. They are constitutionally so timid that they fear any step or any condition which is a positive and final change. If marriage had some reservations and uncertainties, some loopholes through which they could drag themselves as a final resort, they would be more sure of their own wishes. These are the Misses Feebleminds, who cast the reproach upon feminine celibacy. They feel that in some way they have been misunderstood and wronged, and they come finally to regard all other women as their enemies. They worry and fret them- selves continually, and the worry and fret sharpens alike their features and their tem- per. Then their condition is precisely the one most conducive to complaining and spiteful gossiping; and they fall, in their weakness and longing for sympathy, to that level. Thus to the whole class is given a reputation for malevolent railing which does not by any means belong to it. In fact, married women are generally more venomous than old maids. The words of married women have greater weight, and they do more harm; for they can make suggestions and accusations, which an old maid could not make, with any propriety. An old maid's gossip is generally without intentional malice; she has nothing to do, and she wants to make herself agreeable; while married women, having plenty else to do, must, as a general thing, talk scandal from pure ill nature. There is a large majozity of old maids who are to be sincerely respected, and from whose numbers men with sense and intel- ligence may choose noble wives. They are the pretty, pure, sensible women who have been too modest, and too womanly, to push and scramble in the social ranks. They have dweit in their own homes, and among their own people, and no one has sought them out. They have seen their youth pass away, and all their innocent desires fade, and they have suffered what few can un- derstand -before they reached that calm which no thought of a lover troubles. Sweet faded flowers! How tenderly we ought to regard these gentle victims of those modest household virtues, which all men profess to admire; but which few seem desirous to transplant into their own homes. Clever and Oda. Another class somewhat kindred to ‘his is composed of women who have never found their ideal, and have never allowed them- selves to invent for any other man those qualities which would elevate him to their standard. And these women again are closely allied to those who remain unmarzied, be- cause they do not, and will not, conform to conventionalities and social rules., They are clever and odd, and likely to remain odd, especially if they refuse to men—as they are most likely to do—that step o> two in advance which is the only way to reconcile them to witty or intellectual women. These varieties of unmarried women are mainly the victims of natural pecullarities, or of circumstances they aze not responsi- ble for. But within the last generation the condition of feminine celibacy has greatly altered. It is a fact, that women in this The Useless Old Bachelor. day, considerately, and in the first glory of their youth, elect themselves to that condi- tion. Some have imbibed from high culture, | a high conception of the value of life, and of what they ought to do with their lives; | and they will not waste the days of their youth in looking for a husband in order to begin their work. Others have strong individuality, and refuse to give up their time into another’s keeping. The force of character displayed by such resolutions naturally leads to celibacy. No one but @ very weak man would be attracted by wo- men of such vital purpose; and weak men would not be tolerated by such strong wo- men. ‘The wise and the thoughtful may well give such voluntary old maids the full credit of their purpose, for the generality will not believe in resolutions, so much above their own consciences and intelli- gence. They will still sneer at their condi- tion, and refuse to admit that it is of choice. They will throw at them that wea- risome old fable of the fox and the grapes, when they might much more cor- rectly quote Sappho’s song of the ripe ap- ples left on the topmost branches of the apple trees—“not because they were for- gotten of the gatherers, but because they were out of their reach.” In accord with the fresh development we are told that the number of unmarried wo- men in the country is steadily on the in- crease. But this increase will not be ranged among the silly, the weak, or the cruel of the sex. It will come from that class of women whose eyes have been opened by the spread of education and re- finement, women not afraid to work for themeelves, and who indeed have thought- fully concluded that their own efforts and their own company will be far better for them than the help and company of any man _ not perfectly in sympathy with them; or their inferior, either in moral or mental caliber, For it is not always a duty to marry, but it is always a duty to live up to our highest conception of what is right and noble and elevating. But from whatever cause the women of the present and future generations remain unmarried they will have no need to dread the condition, as unmarried women of the previous generations have had good cause Every year finds them more inde- They are constantly invading fresh trades, and stepping up into more im- portant positions. They live in pretty chambers; they dress charmingly; they have a bank account; they go to the opera and the theaters in their own protection, and instead of being the humble poor rela- tions of married sisters and brothers, they are now their equals; their patrons and their honored guests. Besides which, old maids have begun to write novels, and in them they have given us such exquisite portraits of their order—women so rich in every womanly grace—that we are almost compelled to believe the unmarried women in our midst to be the salt of the communi- ty. Where the Blame Rightly Belongs. At any rate we are beginning to shift the blame and the obliquy of the position to the old bachelors, where it rightly belongs; and this is at least a move in Ue gust «2 proper direction. For old bachelors have no excuse whatever for their condition. If we omit the natural and necessary exceptions, which are few enongh, then pure selfishness and cowardice must account for every other case. Their despised old bachelorhood is all their own fault. They have always had the tremendous privilege of asking for what they wanted, and half the battle was in that privilege. Men don’t have wives be- cause they don’t ask for them, and they don’t ask for them because they don’t want them; and in this condition lies their shame and their degradation, and the well-deserved scorn with which the married part of both Sexes regard them. Men are also much more contemptible and useless in iieir celibacy than are wo- men. An old maid can generally make her- self of service to some one. If she is rich he attaches herself to church work or to or to the children of brothers and sis- Or she travels all over the world and writes a book about her adventures. If she is poor she works hard and saves money, and thus becomes an object of interest and respect in her own set. Or she is nurse and helper for all that need her help in her vil- lage, or her church, or her family. At any rate, she never descends to such depths of ennui and seifishn oss ax do ihe old huchelurs, who loll about on the club sofas, or who dawdle discontentedly at afternoon teas. An old maid may be troublesome in church business, or particular in household affairs; but it takes an old bachelor to quarrel with waiters and grumble every one insane about his dinner menu. An old maid may gossip, but she will not bore every one to death about her dyspepsia; and if she has to The Lovely Old Maid. starve others, we may be very certain she would never fall under that tyranny of valets and janitors, which ace the “sling = arrows” of wealthy, selfish, old bache- lors. On the whole, then, the unmarried woman is becoming every year more self-reliant, and more respectable and respected; and the unmarried man more effeminate and contemptible. We look for a day not far off when a man will have to become a member of some religious order if he wishes a reput- able excuse for his celibacy; and even in secular life, it would not be a bad idea to clothe bachelors after forty years of age in a certain uniform. They might also after that age be advised to have their own clubs and recreations, fo> their assumption of equality with those of their sex, who have done their duty as men and citizens, is a piece of presumption that married men ought to resent. Men who marry are the honorable progenitors of the future, and their self-denying, busy lives not only bless this generation, but prepare for the next one. The old bachelor is merely a human figure, without duties and without hopes, Nationally and socially, domestically and personally, he is a spoon, with nothing in ft! AMELIA E. BARR. einai - Health d Hygtenc. Fat plain food. Be regular in your habits. Begin your morning meal with fruit. Don't go to work immediately after eat- . Rise in the morning soon after you are awake. Be moderate in the use of liquids at all seasons. If possible, go to bed at the same hour every night. A sponge bath of cold or tepid water should be followed by friction with towel or === [POINTERS FOR WOMEN Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. Cotele, @ heavy corded bengaline, is for capes and coats and for the sleeves velvet and plush coats. Sometimes it used for the sleeves of seal coats, it seems out of place there. “2s e we The*very newest fabric is velours du It is a plush, with a shorter pile ordinary plush, and does not crush as easily as velvet. It makes very handsome top garments for women, and is particu- larly elegant in house gowns, o 2 ¢ + i of a son of eptcuris. | thority says that the | have champegn @ at all, but to i old Madeira. claret. "es © we «© Women do not know it, but it is @ that men hate the “petticoats” om dinner which often burn and give # scorched Paper flavor f the 7. ‘The wise woman is never the first low nor the last to abandon a fashion. 7. 8 8 A nervous woman who is troubled insomnia to the verge of insanity at Fas she =e in a large measure | itin a novel way. Very often |odor which attaches itaeit to ved ing annoyed her till she left bed rid of it and threw herself on a which had a balsam pillow. There | could sleep. One day she purchased a forlorn little street vender a lavender flowers, and by some means got in the drawer with her bed linen. that linen was put upon her bed she that there was something soothing odor. She put lavender flowers in linen chests, and now she is | troubled with sleeplessness. keepers save the petals others mince dry orange and, inclosing it in loose Swiss, toss between sheets The odor of dry orange | delicious. O1d-time lt i Py fieelietiels ‘Only the jewels that | gifts should be worn wedding day. wee are worn at are no longer hung ought to be put ou! Worn as most women tempting fate and two- in the ne columns | which vanity puts to a use by the inventor. . 5. A figure that lacks breadth at the ders is greatly improved by a waist, bib sleeves that do not the elbows and wide full revers silk ruffles. when right dry, pull and rub it well, it will be as soft as new. Numerous washings thicken it, but it will remain soft. Do not rinse it. Clear water toughens and hard- ens it. - 2 © © «© Willow furniture can be easily cleaned at home. Prepare a tub of soapy water, hav- ing in it ammonia and borax. Have a stiff scrub brush and a supply of patience. Ele- vate the furniture to be cleaned on the edge of the tub and scrub it thoroughly. If ; very obdurate try a second water. Rinse in ciear, warm water, and put in the sun to dry. The willow baby carriages can be cleaned the same way. _. A woman of nondescript hair, complex. jon and eyes may wear light colors quite acceptadly if she wiil put » band of fur around her neck and at the wrists of her gown. Don't use highly tinted note paper or envelopes. White or cream jaid is always the best taste, and the only ornamenta- tion admissible in polite society is the yronogram. That must be small and plain. note is horrible taste, except for children. The street and num- ber may be printed in an unobtrusive way at the head of the note paper. . _. 8 Moire grows in favor for gowns and mantles. it really is not a very pretty slik, but it has the merit of quality. A cheap moire silk is as easily detected as a cot- ton glove. The Napoleon hat is not becoming to age. Only lovely youth should wear it, but as usual it is oftenest found on those who make it a cartoon. . ee © Here is something from Holmes that am- bitious society men and women would do well to Rgnder seriously: “There are three wicks to the lamp of a man’s life, brain,biooa and breath. Press the brain a little, its light goes out followed by both the 5 Stop the heart a minute and out go all three of the wicks. Choke the air out the lungs, and presently the fluid ceases to supply the other centers of flame and all is stagnation, cold and darkness.” oe. Buttons bid fair to be the next craze. Big buttons and little ones, all of the cost- Mest kind, decorate some of the latest im- portations. 3 * © © © © At a recent dinner on one of the damp days which the “deah " love because they are English, you know, the salt was exXasperatingly damp, a freak that over- takes that indispensible condiment just a: surely as falling weather presents itself, but it can be avoided. A tablespoonful of corn starch to a teacupful of salt, the two well mixed, solves the difficulty. The corn Starch absorbs the moisture and its pres- ence cannot be detected. ‘Try it. _7*.f 8 8 About sixteen times a year some one bobs up and declares ‘hat carpets sprinkled with salt in sweeping will retain their colors. Just you try it if you want to ruin your carpets. Every damp day the salt will moisten and stand all over the carpet like dew and smeil like the mischief, and it is simply impossible to sweep the salt all out of the pile. ; oes Pincvshions are now shoving the pin trays to the wall. Good pincushions should be of generous size, and are best stuffed very tightly with bran. Bright colored silk or eatin covers the cushion smoothly, and over that may be placed any ruffed or lace betrimmed extravaganza that the maker designs. It should be kept in mind, how- ever, that a pircushion is for service and | not show alone. Put your address on your cards. You may hug to your heart the fallacy that you are the one creature on earth of Your name who is worth remembering, but when you get older you will learn that among the Smiths, or Joneses, or Greens, or Whites, or | whatever tribe you may belong to, are |dozens of others who are just as eure of their noted identity. it wilf save your hos- tess embarrassment ond yourself annoy- ance to have your rumber printed on the | lower right-hand corner of your card. | Never roll a glove. Pull it off wrong side jout, instead of by tpe fingers. h out }the fingers carefully and lay the gloves ‘straight in a box. j . ime Keeping the nails long and pointed wil. j reduce (he apparent blunitness of the square finger tps.