Evening Star Newspaper, February 10, 1894, Page 18

18 THE EVEN NG STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 10, 1894A-TWENTY PAGES HOW TO ENTERTAIN True Hospitality Brings Discomfort to None. SOME PRETTY GOWNS FOR LENT) Senora Sara's Friends Visit the Capitol. NEW IDEAS ON THE TARIFF —————o ‘M¥ritten Exclusively for The Evening Star. HERE ARE SOME very nice women who | make their hospitali- ty a thing to shudder at. In their zeal to discharge the small- est part of the debt, they lay their friends | under such a load ot} it that a lifetime is) too short for cancei- lation. The nights | are robbed of sleep, and in its piace are | hours of anxious) planning for the day, and when it comes) they all but kill themselves to make ready for the guest on whom will be laid the re- sponsibility for their strained and tingling Nerves. Their flushed faces and Irritable condition that is concealed from no one, Much as they may think it is, the intense, conscientious endeavor that pervades the household is the foe to the very pleasure they have sought to bestow. And the woe-} ful waste of good intention is that the ef- forts born of a kind heart, but a mistaken ‘sense of what is due oné’s friends, spoils the endeavor and turns it into a torture t® guest and family alike. The moral to this is that woren should not “fuss” over com- ‘pany—that is, women who have few or no servants. No proper minded person can be comfort- able at the expense of her hostess’ comfort, nor happy in a home in which her coming 4s a palpable overturning of household gods. If these dear good souls would only learn that we do not go to their houses to be fed, it would be so much easier and quicker to go to a cafe or hotel than to regard a friend’s house as a restaurant pro tem. Most of us go because we like to be near our friends, and the greatest pleasure de- Fived from the visit is that our coming has Made us one with the family, and that we Rave increased its pleasure by our presence, made no one uncomfortable, shoved no one from his place at the table, and that be- cause of us, a son or a daughter, father or husband, has not been thrust from his or her special nook or bed, and that the hap- Diness we experience is mutual. A guest ‘who comes for any other motive should be ished for her affront to the true spirit of Rospitaiity by disappointing her of what she sought, and one who comes because she honestly likes us and wants the pleasure of ©ur society should not have her intentions unjustly dealt with by being “fussed” over. Mankind generally, and women in particu- Jar, think too much about what they eat. Long before the prime of life ts reached they are seamed and lined and shriveled monuments to the “department of the in- terior,” and they but faintly realize what a great waste of precious life it is to devote three-fourths of it to the cultivation of the stomach. The allotted years are so few and the mental possibilities so vast that there is something infinitely sad in the passing away from a woman of the only life she has without enjoying in it some of those Sweets that belong to her if she would take the time to gather them. I think the first essential to a satisfactory living of her life for a good woman Is the making of a hap- y home—this, o1 course, includes good jousekeenine. but good housekeeping does Rot necessariiv mean immolation before the altar of the kitchen fre, no- impalement on @ three-pronsed cooking fork. Cherch Gowns for Lent. One won!d think that Lent micht be en- @ured by the faithful without consulting &@ sewing woman. but I am informed by one of Dorothy's friends, who is a devout church goer, that she positively could not | think of attending chureh during the | Lenten season in the somewhat giddy attire that she usually a‘tects, made a gown that is cei and suggestive of suidued thought as well. It is a soft, fine biack whipcord. On each | side of the front are panels of plain black | satin and the full upper part of the bodice | is of the black satin. It is trimmed around | the bottom, up the panels and across the front of the bodice with bands of white lace insertion, and the big puifed sleeves | so she has had | ty both viish | are caught down with lece bands. She will wear with it a flaring Gainsborough of jet and velvet, h black tips and black | satin strings. I presume she can worship | much more comfortably in that than she} could in the new gown in which she made | the last binet calls. | exant tea gown that was sent home from the dressmaker’s last week is for a sta young matron, who will wear | it at some of the quiet litle teas she will to a few of It is bk ith godet p front is the heavie silk and the yok did duchess will wear s An amber be her intimate women | satin, in princess its in the back. The f yellow bengaline are oi splen- this gown she amber jewelry. ound with side of | . and the old-fash- b has a beading of amber a: | frock | a | 3 i the frock. 1 crepe and it) a 1 crepe and the cuff. “the & and | in the front ons and loops of | Pose colorei is to wear with this frock si: rose culured silk | all our own, American in every sense of | Hl and black suede slippers with paste buckles. After saturating themselves with knowl- edge on the subject of slumming and per- fecting organization for systematic relief of the deserving poor whom they found, Dorothy and the Invincible Six suddenly | developed a thirst for information on the subject of political economy. This brarch | of information they concluded could best be acquired from the House gallery during | the mental gymnastics incident to the dis- cussion of the tariff. Six mothers interpos-| €d strenuous objections to this, but Dorothy | calmly assured the maternal objectors that | made a perfectly lovely chaperone | and would be delighted to act in that capacity. The audacity of this sister of mine Is as colossal as the scheme of the adrainistration in Hawaiian affairs and cer- tainly more effectual, for what she elected to have me do I did. It has been so ever since her dimpled baby hands got well enough acquainted with mischief to pull out my hairpins, the while her red lips were suing for kisses. But if anybody thinks that it was a picnic party of un- alloyed pleasure to me, that person should try it a spell. The “Invincibles” are not unruly, really, but they are so full of ram- pant life and omniverous curiosity, so eager for information and so reckiessly heedles whom they get it from that I near- ly have congestion of the brain before I get them rounded up in the home fold in the evening. What is Tarif? Generally speaking, what a woman does not know about tariff would fill a large volume. But what those seven girls have | failed to learn after nearly two weeks’ | martrydom on my part and from the rever- berating eloquence of the various gentle- men from the forty-four states who spoke | to the Congressional Record would fill two books as big as the Troy petition, which went to protest when the Wilson bill passed the House. ‘What Is a tariff, anyhow?” asked Jen- ule in utter weariness, after the usual Mr. Walker of Massachu- entlemen on the otner side of the House.” “If newspapers that base their circula- tion on coupons and chromos instead of ideas would offer prizes for stupidity you'd | win hands down,” retorted Nora. “The; tariff is a tax, any baby ought to know | that.” t isn’t any such thing,” Elaine put in. “The tariff is a duty levied on foreign imports to equalize the difference between wages abroad and at home.” “And we democrats have got it in bond,” began Mary, eager to display her newly acquired knowledse, “and we are going to} keep it there for five years, till it matures | or somebody wants it at a dollar a bushel— or wasn’t 90 cents a gallon they set it, Sara? I got a little mixed among all the patches they were putting on the bill. It is only ten cents difference, anyhow, and nobody would quarrel over that!” “Why, I thought from what Mr. MeMillin said that the tariff was something you all are forcing the poor laboring man to take for his pay,” observed Louise, timidly, ‘and | that it wasn’t nearly enough, so he wants an income added, which he is going to take from rich men.” “You've got it, Louise,” said Bobbie, with an assuring pat. “I didn’t know, you dear little mouse, that you had it in you to com- prehend financial subjects so thoroughly. It is so necessary, I think, to understand these great questions. Now, I am letter- perfect up to date. I just dote on politics, and think of nothing else when I can get my mind off of my calling list. When we were here two years ago—that was before I was ‘out,’ you know—inamma brought me up to the house quite often, and I was here when that lovely Mr. Bryan from Nebraska spoke his piece, and for an encore gave the ‘Last Rose of Summer.’ Oh, he was simply divine. I remember distinctly what he said about the tariif, though 1 may have got the | figures a little mixed. I never can re- member figures. He said that it was a per- fect shame to make a young married man take Mr. McKinley's tariff, because he had to pay it right out again. And don’t you know it was just awful the prices he must pay for things. Papa says that 2 per cent is about to break him up, though I don’t think that is much. But Mr. Bryan said that the young married man had to pay 20 per cent for lumber to build his house, and 24 per cent for the mortgage on it, and 10 per cent for the table cloth and 60 per cent for his stove, and 12 per cent for his knives and forks, and a lot more on every- thing else, and that he could hardly afford to get married anyhow, Yecavse he had to | pay so much tariff for his wedding clothes. | And just a little while ago, you know, Mr. Bryan said that he and Mr. Ward McAI-| lister thought they would have to go to England to live, because the tariff on the flag was more than they could pay, and—" American Stars and Stripes. “We don’t pay a duty on the bunting in cur flags any more,” interjected Elaine. “Since we have had protection for our laborers, bunting factories have been es- tablished here, so that our beautiful flag is the word, and it waves over the grandest nation on earth.” } “Ol shrieked Louise, in her high falsetto, making the chairman rattle his gavel and | shout for order in the galleries, “I remem- ber Mr. Bryan toasted that sentiment in his piece, when he said, with that perfectly adorabie smile: Greathes there a man with soul so dead Who never to himseif hath said, This is my own, my native land? “Maybe he will be good and add the tariff | to the incomes that he wanted tacked on the Wilson bili, so that the poor laboring men over in England who only get fifty cents a day can come over here and go to Congress and have a clerk to do their work, and then we can have more men at our social functions. I should think, though, that they would rather live over there if they don’t have to pay taxes or take the | tariff for wages.” * “O, Louise,” sighed Elaine. “All you need to be a peripatetic internal revenue bill is a few amendments and the opposition of the gentlemen from New York. If you could only hire Representative Hall and lecture on what you don’t know about the tariff, business would revive at once.” “For my part, I'm ashamed of you, Louise"—I knew Dorothy was about ready to explode—“I'd hate to say it, if I did think it, that I would like to live in Eng- land for any reason. It’s bad enough to have an imitation court here, with curtsies and Prince of Wales handshakes—" “And it would be dreadfully uncomfort- able to go around all the time in court trains with three feathers in one’s hair. The dampness here would take all the curl out of ostrich feathers,” was Jennie’s addi- tion to the row she had precipitated, as she turned her lorgnette reflectively on Miss Rose Cleveland, who occupied the Presi- dent's “pew.” “This isn’t your five minutes and I de- cline to yield,” Dorothy said decidedly, as Jennie began to comment on the Paris made gown. “I wonder how on earth you suppose England supports Queen Victoria and her children if they have no taxes in England. Just listen to this,” and in spite of my protestations and the scowls of the chairman, Dorothy proceeded to read a clip- ping which she extracted from her card case, which was entitled “English Taxes,” ‘And what was it the gentleman from New York said about its being bad taste for debutantes to wear diamonds, because they were so cheap?” asked Louise, as she borrowed Jennie’s lorgnette to gaze at the handsome bachelor from Chicago. “He never said it,” asserted Elaine. “O, but he did,” insisted Louise; “I heard him with my own ears.” Diamonds Should Be Free. “Well, they must have been stuffed with Tom Johnson's free wool then, or else you have mental stigmatism. What you are trying to get at is that it is extremely bad taste for debutantes to wear gems, particu- larly diamonds. You read that in the last number of Good Form. What you heard was the speech of Mr. Hendrix of New York,who said that diamonds ought to come in free,or | instead of diamond: | laughed and said that di collateral 1 with a very low duty, as it was the poor | ATRANSITION PERIOD servant girl who wore them. I suppose he thinks they are to the shivering, hungry poor what the sighed-for ‘buzzom pin’ was to the barefooted youth in midwinter—a rale comfort.’ Mr. Hendrix said, also, that diamonds are so common now as to be vul- gar and that no woman of New York's four hundred wore"— “f remember that,” broke in Bobbie, ra- diantly—Bobbie is ‘catalogued Roberta in social doings d the very next day I read in one of the New York papers about the Patriarchs’ ball, and it said that Mrs. Have- meyer ‘wore a coronet of diamond stars and strings and tags of brilliants on the front of her corsage,” and it went on to say that so many diamonds and pearls were worn that one could hardly help wondering wh they were all g It said that ‘in th days, when fe m wore hair of God's choosing, when bloom is added to the cheek, whiteness to the throat and brilliancy to the eye, why should reproach att to the Wearing of spurious jewe re becoming, look just the them no cares and anxieties as to safe That was nearly what Mr. He: wearing pa He said it w: t s safer D: da of in these geantry when fool legislat of the nation, but that ry, in his opinion, for a Co gressman to burden the C al Re ord th the little ec mies of his con: ents, who found it necesss wind on the contents of box. I wonder what papa meant by the wind? “I think I heard that s that,” Nora r Fe said to Mr. Cockran the wind and would r so maybe it has som income, because it w was saying about the iniquitous, infamous and in else to ask him to take his Inc gressman to help pay Mr. Don't you know, I th been Mr. Wilson got so mad abo t he had sowed p the whirlwind, and hing to do with his when Mr, Cockran ax that it was —something me as Con- Vilson’s bill bills. gress pay tailors’ bills for mn you, Sara The house adjour could form an answer and jus keep me from going crazy. ORA SAKA toe THE ETIQUETTE OF CALLS. When to Make Them, Upon Whom and in What From the Philadelghia Times. Stern fashion and the exigencies of polite society have rendered necessary a set of rules for making calls inexorable in them- selves, Lut so faithfully observed among those who care to know and do what is right that, once thoroughly learned. the lesson is never forgotten nor its precepts varied. The etiquette of calling, as practicat, tends always to the greater convenience both of host and caller, and as usage and custom have made them necessary they must be strictly observed. It is the duty of the mother or chaperone, not of the young ladies, to invite a gentleman to call. After a visit of this description it is in- cumbent upon the tirst arrival to be the first to leave. The lady of the house @s weil as the young should be left for her er ladies of the fam. If a man is favored by an invitation to call upon a family or person he should as- certain the prescribed hours for calling aud in the first instance, at least, adhere strict- ly to those hours. It is proper after a removal from one part of town to another to send cards to one’s friends with the new address thereon, As- suming alw: that the newcomers are de- sirable people to know the duty of the jirst call devolves upon the older residents of the neighborhoc and a failure to show this courtesy where it is due is not only careless but unpardonable, and a first cail should be returned in person and within a week of the receipt of the courtesy. Where a gentleman has been properly in- vited to call upon a iady, or if, through the offices of a mutual friend he is the bearer of an introductory letter, he must do so within a reasonable time—a week or less— and this call, at least, must be of the most formal nature. The same rule applies with regard to the acknowledgment of the obli- gation incurred by the acceptance of an invitation to a dinaer party or similiar affair, the call must be made soon after and in person. : After a marriage has taken place or an engagement announced in a family of your acquaintance, or where a friend has re- turned from a prolonged absence, the obli- gation to call is imperative. . The whole system of this phase of social obligation turns upon expediency, and, while the foregoing rules of observance may well be regarded as strictly correct in all that they cover, there must be a certain freedom of action allowed to individual ac- quaintances regarding visits of condolence, congratulations or matters of common in- terest. Remember that “not at hom is imperative, even from your dearest friend, and do not seek to prove the truth or fals. ity of it. You have often escaped a bad quarter of an hour by this convenient de- vice of society, and you should be as ready .o accept such excuse without question es you have been on occasions to make it. ———— eee TO KEEP DOW: nner, must be asked for ladies, and cards well as the young- OBESITY. English Ladies Observe Periods of Dicting on Chicken, Fish and Game. Over in England, where for six months in the year all the smart folks are staying at each other's houses, the fatal penalty of obesity follows the luxurious style of living, and nobody can keep slender except by artificial means. The women rise late, and perhaps are driven to the race courses or to luncheon with the shooters. Returning home they do a little neediework or write letters or play some light game until tea time, after which they read or talk until dinner, where the inexorable custom of champagne, the temptations thrown in their way by an excellent chef, the fatal fruits and liquors, all tend toward their ruin. And after dinner it is quite on the cards that a belated game of poker may lead to the further indiscretion of a little supper before retiring. Of course the re- sult of all this feasting is one which arouses research in the best methods of avoiding the accumulation of flesh, and the latest discovery is that an occasional week's diet on game, chicken and fish, with moderate caution the rest of the time, will avert the disaster. The menu of the day for this week’s fast includes the early cup of tea with saccha- rine instead of sugar and a squeeze of lemon, Breakfast, tried sole. Luncheon, roast pheasant. An hour later, a glass of claret. At tea time, only tea with saccha- rine and lemon. Dinner, boiled turbot, e | | Written Exclusively for The Ev How Half-Grown Daughters Should Be Gowne' (CARE WILL BE REPAID Advice to Fond Mothers About Dresses. . | presi ven ee! CONCEALING ANGULARITIES ——— ROM IMME- morial mothers have sighed over the cru- dities and angulari- ties of their halt- grown daughters; and it must be confessed that what is as the tra period of a girl is anything | pleasant one to either daughter or parent. | Hi ms and i i jz euch an ing in the w. iy © tune. TIME 's life but a inexplicable fashion of and things seem geae During this brief period amount of attention the arrangement of pre ings," for it is certain that such thought- fulness on the mother's part will be amply repaid when this same un daughter blossoms into charming womanhood. j The first requisite of an artistic dress, by which acute angles may be partially concealed, is a rigid avoidance of tight fit- | ting waists. Any amount of fullness, ruf- fling, &c., may be used about the shoulders, but let the lower part be drawn into a belt made frcm the dress material or soft folds of silk. For a girl of fourteen let the skirt reach the boot tops, and fini@h plainly | around the edge. Turning up a deep hem on the outside and stitching it with silk of a contrasting color is an effective way, and the bell skirt will be found most be- coming. The gored skirt, when short, has an awkward way of swinging around the ankles, which is anything but conducive to grace. jwill of old ivory silk, preferably China or In- dia. The infant waist cut, with a square opening, is almost concealed by a wide ruf- fle of delicate lace, while the immense sleeves are made of two puffs, one falling to the elbow, the other, a much smaller one, reaching a little below. The skirt is straight and full, with a wide ruffle of lace all the way round, caught at intervals with knots of Psyche ribbon. Two or three long-stemmed La France roses thrust into the silken girdle give the one touch of color which makes the costume perfect. Cream White Cashmere. Sull another pretty outfit is of cream white cashmere veiling or any material which falls easily and gracefully. The bodice is drawn in soft folds from neck to waist, where it is held by a ribbon girdle of delicate green; the fuil sleeves have pleated epaulettes, bordered with a narrow band of ribbon, and the full skirt has two rows of the same trimming, and a little higher one more, These designs, while not elab- orate, are extremely artistic, and a trial demonstrate their practical advan- tages. Making the Skirts. Aside from dress designs, a few general suggestions may be found useful. In mak- ing the skirts, be careful to have the same length in the back breadths as in front. There is nothing more awkward than a dress which “tips up in front and dips down behind.” As to length, keep it on a level with the boot tops as long as pos- sible, then bring it clear down to the ankles, avoiding all intermediate stages. Puffs for Slender Arms. Should the arms seem ungracefully long and slender, have full double puffs reach- ing to the elbow, but from that point let the sleeve fit snugly, and do not make it too long. A ruffle of wide lace improves the appearance of both sleeve and hand, and {f put back and tacked in two or three places, the entire arm will seem shorter. If the throat or face be thin, the hair should be slightly waved over the fore- head and temples and drawn low on .the neck, where it is loosely braided and loop- Wool and sik. The first illustration shows a costume developed in dark green wool and silk, | the waist being one of the pretty Soate- | | tan plaids, showing narrow lines of gold and crimson. The skirt is green cloth, with a tiny stitching of crimson silk above the hem; with the addition of a crimson silk sash loosely knotted a little on one side this gown may be transformed into a bright | little costume suitable for almost any oc- casion. Brown and White Pihid. Another pretty dress is of brown and white plaid, with just a suspicion of erim- son threads to give it color. The waist |made loose and full in front, but tie’ | fitting in the back, while the sleeves are great double puffs of the material, with grilled chicken or boiled rabbit. That is literally all that is allowed, excepting salt. | snugly fitted cuffs of seal brown velvet. A glass of claret may be indulged in an/ A sleeveless jacket of velvet, edged with hour or so after dinner, and in the middle | @ generous double rufie of golden brown of the morning and at bedtime a glass: of silk gives a pretty finish. The skirt, fitting boiling water with or without lemon should perfectly across the front and sides, is laid be sipped. Of course, this diet is no use at in the fashionable organ pleats at the back; all in hardened cases, but the young trans- | it is faced with silk, and trimmed with inch gressors, those only beginning to go down | bands of dark velvet. Other combinations the primrose path that leads to obesity, | are equally pretty and stylish, but it is will be grateful for the recipe if it is faith- | well to avoid very light or bright colors. fully followed once in a while for a week. oe Continued Charm, From Herper's Bazar. It is a singular thing that many of the most famous women in history and in lit- erature were not young at the time when they were most charming. Charm is a trait by itself; that it is not necessarily dependent on a rose-leaf skin, shining teeth, or glowing eye, a supple figure, or fine dancing on small feet; and that here a sweet nature, there a wholesome tempera- ment, or again a brilliant intellect, has been sometimes as powerful a factor in the world as mere physical loveliness. Physical loveliness has its empire, and by far the largest and strongest empire; but the strange charm that has no relation to age has an empire all its own, and not to be disdained. It is a fresh illustration of the power of mind over matter, for cer- tainly the charm does not lie in any ma- terial quality. It is, perhaps, something of the same charm as that which has often brought lovers to the feet of plain women. But, whatever it is, it shows that there are qualities and quantities in life superior to the velvet cheek and the dimpling smile. soe Considerate, From Life. Judge Begad—Prisoner at the bar, you are charged with shooting the plaintiff through each ear, one foot, an elbow and along the top of his head. What have you to say for yourself? Alkali Ike (the prisoner)—Wal, I didn’t have no killin’ grudge agin him, and so I jest shot him in the thin places around the edges so’s not to hurt him too much. Pa SO SRST S It is supposed that a hen lays an egg be- cause she can’t stand it on end.—Texas Siftings Evening Dress. A charming little evening dress is made ed, or left ina fuzzy bunch. B. V. K. —_—__—_ HUSBANDS AT HOME. Some of the Duties of Both Father and Mother. From Harper's Bazar. Women are constantly advised to re- member that they are the constituted guar- dians of the home; that they make its sun- shine and dispense happiness or misery to those within its shelter. To meet her hus- band with a smiling face on his daily re- turn to her, no matter how trying and dis- turbing a day she may have had in the home, is assumed to be the wife's special obligation. Is it not at least equally in- cumbent on the good man to bring sun- shine and pleasure back to her, even though the street or the office may have had its solicitudes and trials? When the sound of the father’s latch-key is the signal for a joyous rush on the part of the children, a glad thrill in the voice of the wife, even a cheery stir in the region of the kitchen, the tokens are evident that the man of the house is a cheery, sensible, big-hearted fellow, who can carry his end of the load without unmanly murmuring and complaint. No doubt he is weary. Most people are, after the allotted tasks of the day are over. Work takes a good deal out of the strongest of us, even when we love the work and find our environment agreeable. But the man going out to his business engagements has one great ad- vantage over his wife. He has had change of scene and companionship. He has been brought into touch with the wide-awake life of the world. Strangers have addressed him. His letters, his callers, his work it- self, however monotonous, have made him for a while forgetful of the petty solici- tudes and small frictions of the household. Perhaps he was cross and unreasonable there, and said something sharp and satir- {cal which wounded his wife, something over which she brooded for hours after he had rushed pell-mell down the street to catch a car, forgetting all about his sudden gust and flurry of temper because break- ree was a trifle late and the steak over- lone. Of course this behavior in a husband is infrequent and accidental, and is seldom long treasured against him by a loving wife. A certain element of the maternal mingles with the affection of a wife for her husband, and she excuses his occasional irritability as patiently and with as much toleration as she does the same thing in the children or in her older boys. Neverthe- less, a man should not presume on this emiability, nor strain it too far. If a man were cross at breakfast, it behooves him to be angelic at dinner, by way of making up for the first lapse in deportment. The husband who may be relied on for sympathy, for cheerfulness, for sunshine, is as much a home-maker as his wife. He builds for future years, his boys copying, unconsciously, his very tricks of manner and the tones of his voice. The chivalry which induces him to make smooth and easy the path of his wife will make good husbands of them when their turn shall come. It will give his girls a standard by which to measure when wooers come to claim them, in the regular order of things. They will say, as a girl did the other day, “When I marry it will be when I find a man as sincere, as upright, as gentle, and as full of fun as my father; not till then.” Nor should the husband forget that at- tention in trifles, little thoughtful acts, a gift at an unexpected moment, a flower or a book, cr the new magazine, something in- expensive, but indicating remembrance and care for the wife’s tastes, keeps alight and glowing the flame of love. In home life none need fear to be affectionate and de- monstrative. ——_—-_--+-—___ The Pioneer. From the Youth's Companion. ater flute, pecan like you, 'd swing upon the Pa ong and true And thrill ‘a pastoral strong About the maul and wedge. ‘The gnarled maul my grandsire swung And made the forest boom, While his good, wife a-spining sung, swayed across the room. O hark! I hear his rhymic stroke we slut or Meigen rege L. et Vhat time the fragrant oak, Resisting, crack and rend. Give him a song, the brave and true, Him of the wedge and maul, Whose hero heart and hand could do The drudgery for us all! © high on honor’s eminence His lonely cabin rose, He burst grand boles to bufld the fence That circled freedom’s close. He was a giant and he tere Our roadway with bis hand; Across the wilder frontier be bore The burden of the land. Give him, the old pioneer, A century closing song, ‘The whole choir sing, the nation cheer, A hundred million strong! ~MAURICE THOMPSON. soe — An Investigatt From Puck. Parker—I wonder you keep your office in a building like this. Any one can see it isn’t safe. Has the attention of the build- ing department ever been called to it? ® Barker—Oh, yes! I think they looked into the matter once, and found out how the landlord votes. Father—What's that devilish noise in the kitchen, Bobby? Bobby—That’s mamma making angel cake!—Life. eae [LADY TYPEWRITERS | Some of the Characteristics of Fe- male Typewriter Workers. A NERVERACKIMG VOCATION Evils Developed From Repetition Work on the Machine. een ee A LARGE FRATERNITY) — | T IS A GENERAL belief among those most interested that the city of Washing- ton contains more female typewriters than any city in the country, anc when one takes in ‘he host employed in the dif- ferent depactments | of the government this belief appears to | be substantiated. Of course there are hun- dreds who find empioyment with the many real estate and legal firms and also do business for themselves, but the bulk of the fraternity sign their names to federal [Psy rolls. The question of female typewriters was under discussion up at the Stenographers’ Club by a couple of members fecently, and besides their numbers their characteristics Were also discussed. There seems to be a | widespread belief that the principal claim | | for recognition on the part of the female | typewriter is that she will do the work |cheaper than the, supposed to be, | sterner sex. This beef is all wrong, as far as the experts are concerned. The nov- ices may, perhaps, underbid their more competent sisters, but the quality of the work done will soon drive customers away unless it is certain work that requires no accuracy or neat appearance. Considering the hours the female typewriter’s compen- sation is far above the average. They set | @ certain price upon their work and the | sterner sex would be surprised to see how tenaciously they hold to it. It is not a question of how much money they can make inside of twelve hours, but how much work they can secure. Many of the more | expert ladies have been known to go two days without securing a single sheet of typewriting to do and on the third day | turn out work that called for the payment j of $10 thereon. As to getting married, their | chances are almost equal to the female | telegrapher. If they have coupled to a bright intellect-a more than passing face, their chances of continuing in business are very slight. Her Chances of Marriage. Should their admirers be largely composed | of the younger. generation, they will find it a hard road to travel in opposition to the old saw, “an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave.” Good common sense is one of the chief characteristics of the female typewriter, and how dear those words ure to the old bachelor or the widower of middle age. The former has, perhaps, known little Cuiyauonship of the gentler sex owing to business pursuits, and when thoughts of love enter his brain what is more likely than | that he should pick out his confidential type- | writer? The widower has been through the furnace of first love and looks around for a congenial companion. The little lady sitting | at his right elbow and hammering out his | thoughts in cold print at the rate of sixty | words a minute, without a misspelt word or ungrammatical phrase, strikes him as being about the personification of intellectual com- panionship, and straightway a vacancy eccurs in the typewriters’ ranks. It is a— strange coincidence, evolved from fully a dozen different sources, that where a man marries his typewriter the person that takes her place is always of the sterner sex. Many lady stenographers are expert type- writers, but the majority of the fraternity depend upon typewriting alone, and, as be- fore said, if they have the work, a very Profitable income is sure to follow. An old employe of one of the uptown departments, one of the brightest women that sign their names to a federal pay roll, has an office near the center of the business portion of the city, in which typewriting is done. About seven bright girls are given employ- ment, and the office has quite a reputa- tion for speed and . The ge dozen applicants on her books for positions on her force when vacancies occur. One of the employes of this lady said recently that one cent seemed small for three hundred words, but that all she asked for was plenty of work. If I can’t make fifteen dollars a week at that rate, and take it easy, I want to get out of the typewriting business. Advantages Over Her Brother Artist. The female typewriter enjoys an advan- tage over her brother artist in the same line, inasmuch as she will be given the preference when all things are even as to quality and speed of work done. But this has been the rule the wide world over-a pretty face will bring customers where ad- vertising has failed. If there ts one thing more than another in the way of work that the lady typewriter enjoys it is working the machine from dictation. She will charge so much a hundred words for copying an arti- cle and the same prices rule when taking dictation. Dictation is hard work for the novice, but to the thoroughbred typewriter it is child’s play in comparison to leaning over a piece of manuscript and tran- scribing it on the machine. Take, for in- stance, @ seasoned newspaper man that has from a column to a half-page article to write. ff he uses a pencil it will be labor indetd, as a 4,000-word article is no child's | task, and the time consumed will be some-_ thing dreadful to a hustling man. Of he. | rushes to a first-class typewriter—it is said | newspaper men prefer lady typewriters— | and in two hours’ time at the very most | the work should be turned out in first-class | shape. The lady will soon master the gist of his article and follow him as if by intu- ition. It was told up at the club the other night that a young lady new to the typewriter ranks had been asked the nature of her daily labors and had replied that she was | punching holes in the English language. The narrator said that he had come across | some of her work and that she was literally | the truth, as the copy was more holy than righteous. This joke is an old) one in a new dress and first saw the light of day as applying to the perforators upon the Wheatstone telegraph system. Physical Strain Upon Typewriters. There is no denying that the physical | strain upon typewriters is something be- yond the ordinary, although many of the | older and experienced hands in the busi- ness claim that it is only a case where youthful impetuousness is to blame. If the | work is taken easy and steady it can do no harm, but it is the overwork strain that tells. The attention must be intensely con- centrated on the work to catch, without mistake, what the person dictating says, and at the same time the closest attention | must be given to the fingers so that the words or the strokes that represent the words are put down correctly. This, even in a man, will bring on numerous dis- orders, so the doctors say, and how much more so in the delicate, sensitive organiza- tion of a young woman. In fact, nervous disorders among typewriters are exceeding- | ly common, and no one but an experienced person can say how exhaustive the tax is upon the mind and nervous system. | The stooping attitude at the typewriter is added to the mental concentration, which, though not, perhaps, as intense as jotting | down stenographic notes, is still far too much for a young woman to be under con-_ stantly for a whole day, and day after day. | She has often to read poor copy, as this is in itself a strain, and she has to mind the keyboard so that her fingers will not strike the wrong letter. Her mind and eyes have to be kept upon two things at the same ume, that is, on the manuscript and on the keyboard of the machine. And if she transcribes from stenographic notes, she will have to keep an exceedingly sharp lookout, so as to correctly interpret her strokes, dots and dashes as she goes along. ‘Thus, in both stenography and type-writ- ing, there is a constant concentration of | the faculties. The stooping attitude of the ; does not appear to be any | like a jack-kn’ | weakness ————————————————~—--0w0w0oO0ooO decidedly injurious to the syst: er handicap to be ‘overcome and looked out” for. With the exception of stooping, there remedy to miti- gate the evils of type-writing as an employ- at Tt takes & person or exceptionally er vent oneself falling into sy Ais sare The Stooping Position. In conversation with a lady expert re- cently an Evening Star reporter asked her if there was no Way to fix the machine so that she-would not have to stoop, and she replied that it was almost an impossibility, Continuing, she said: ‘© one knows the evils of sitting before @ typewriter all the livelong day better than T do. It is much worse than sitting at a desk, as the ‘lean-over’ is more decided. Frequently I catch myseif bent up almost ife as a result of close atten- tion to the work being done and a desire to do it quickly. We cannot get at the work near as well sitting upright, and if we are to do copying from stenographie Will be still more marked, used in the work is generally one yh light mark obtained against the almost straight 8 Job - hand ¢ . and, with back, | Work. Iam good rf an ga is Ho day and worked myself complete standstill. When 1 started the work I fairly few over the keys 3 f i ga g fingers became automatic tion and the mind the words of the i ; i : z a i $ itl ag 38 j pleting the mrty letters job over to an assistant. “I know of a similar case happening large typewriting office up near ury building. The office securea letter calling for five thousan: Everything went along smoothly day and then the trouble commen: would work on it some days onl; and then began to skip the days was several weeks before the Job was ished. Several of the young ladies Ployed in the office gave it up entirely went away completely up to pitch of intense excitement. The lady runs that office told me she would give her employes another job 01 acter. Besides, it is of no special way. The art of printing in has reachel soch perfection standard typewriters are so tated that it is only necessary to names and addresses onthe prin’ and only experts im typewriting can the difference. To Avotd Nervous Excitement. g li & tf? @ 5 g.°84e8 “ft eellecanet 5 Es i that letter staring of my plate. The next the office after a ed the rotation work and find it “I have been where young wom aries, where they spent covering from nervous prostration on by making hr copies one letter. It is too much for a is killing on a woman. One of Ployes told me recently that she rather run a sewing machine and shirts at 6 cents apiece than undertake make 1,000 copies of any one ietter.” doninonenestibendhiacsaginenienit i i bind It Had to Be Done. From Harper's Bazar. “You have ruined me!” The speaker, a fair-haired young man of five-and-twenty, buried his face in his hands. “I counted you as my friend,” he continued. “and what a friend you have proved yourself to be!” he went on scorn- fully. “Yesterday I was one of the happiest men alive. On the eve of my marriage to one of the purest, sweetest girls that ever breathed, my heart bursting with fond ex- Pectations, with every fair prospect before me; and now, with one swift blow, this has | been swept away, and all,” he exclaimed, 4 5. you urged me on to 4rin! my condition was such that I gone home, where did you send to the home of my affiance? was her horror, her indignation, me! And now, sir, she has cast ev Do you know what you ‘ shit $84 etl aware that in a moment of consented to be one of the ush- at your wedding?” “Certainly I am,” replied the other. he contin ten. Are new frock-coat, to say nothing of buying an expensive wedding-present? Are you aware, sir,” he went on, a dangerous gleam in his eye, “what this means during the present hard times?” For a moment the stricken man beside him was silent. “ brokenly, the other man’s shoulder, “forgive me— will you? I never thought of that.” “It's all right this time, old fellow,” fe plied bis friend, “only you shouldn't have blamed me. I had to do it, old man. I had to break up that wedding or bust.” ——_-e- —_____ The Limitations of Language. From Puck. Little Rastus—Dar's sumpin’, "Fessah, 1 wants ter ask yer "bout de oceanses. Dar’s moah watah in de oceanses at high tide 'n at low tide. W'at becomes of all dat extry watah dat wuz at high tide we'en it gits to be low tide? Professor Johnson—Um —um—dat's @ queshtshun, honey, ‘at kin on'y be answer- ed in Latin. Umpery trampery dixum digit sockdologus. Dat’s v'at becomes ob a6 watah, honey, on’y you'se too young ter uR- “erstan’.