Evening Star Newspaper, March 3, 1894, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 3, 1894-TWENTY PAGES. = had Ja la PARQUET HOWING BOXE Ss. THE PARIS THEATERS| Uninviting Places Redeemed by Good : Acting. SOME OLD AND SINGULAR CUSTOMS The Plays, the Players and the : Playgoers. LONG WAITS BETWEEN ACTS @orrespondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, February 14, 1894. Ts ARE THIR- ty theaters in Paris, including the Grand Opera and the Opera Comique, seven semi- suburban theaters de quartier, and all the Stages devoted to op- erette, vaudeville ard spectacular pieces. To rival them there are three permanent circuses, nine great public balls and promenades, most of which give variety performances on a lit- tle stage before the public dancing, four- teen “artistic cafes,” with songs and reci- tations, and eighteen principal “concerts,” @ach as large as any good-sized theater. ‘Thus there exist in Paris thirty-five im- portant places of miscellaneous and free end easy entertainment against the thirty theaters. Year in, year out, there is a great amount of talk concerning the al- Jeged theatrical decline. Year in, year out, the free and easy places spread themselves, imcrease in splendor and attract a greater throng of clients. And year in,,year out, the theaters remain quite stationary, sel- dom spenaing money on new decoration,not often on new scenery, but continuing dirty, cramped for space, high-priced, exacting, ‘unaccommodating. Yet it is absolutely true that the only shows worth seeing at this moment in ali of Paris are those waich you ‘Types of Ac’ in a Tragedy. ‘must look for on the stages of the thea There only will you find ability in acting or in singing or in dancing. Despite their dust and gloom, their in- civility and their extortions, the Paris thea- ters are unapproachable; and despite their | gayety and liberality and decoration, the music halls and cafes-spectacies continue putting forth but mediocre stage attrac- tions, so dreary and so commonplace that only the excuse of cheapness, comfort, the ability to drink and smoke and chat with | the frail beauties of the promenade ex- plain their patronage. ‘The prices of the theaters are a first stumbling block; and their wo are omplicated by two special features: (1),The system of reserving seats, and (2), ticket gpeculation. For instance, at the Vaude- ville (which has the most successful piece today, Madame Sans-Gene of Sardou), the orchestra chairs and front rows of the bal-f ony at ordin times, cost, unreserved, $1.50 each. You cannot buy a reserved seat | after 7 o'clock at night. All those who come, no matter what they are willing to give, must buy simple adi jon. tie to} the special sections of the house they wish | to sit in, and thus chance the finding ef aj Good seat. To have a ticket “en location, that is to say, reserved, you must have bought it in the day time at fifty cents ad- vance from the box office (if they are not | “1 Kaow | sclé out), or from the st large ¢ offices and sell at | plea | Thanks to this system, Aourish no- tors nor the uppese that 2% ef med over to the ered seats in the they I } ux de orchestra. sold but a half. Ro one {fs turned into those very r the manager Wher locat pm. not. money for you. There lie ; can cook up # ch beforehand, for certain nights through all the seas his numbered seat, so as to see each new production which the theater brings out. For this you pay a lump sum down at the beginning of the season. You chance it whether the pieces shalt be good or bad, or you yourself be sick or other- wise engaged upon the special nights so far ahead. In this way, and at a great re- duction, you secure a certainty of seeing d being treated with consideration. This system of “abonnement” is very much in vogue indeed; perhaps li is in part re- sponsible for the abuses which attend the sale of single tickets. Being once inside the corridors of any Paris theater, you perceive immediately that in case of fire no proper exits would be found to save the lives of hurrying peo- ple. The corridors are curved and narrow, cramped and jlumbered up with what they call the “vestiaire.” The curious old wo- men dressed in black and like nurses, who accept your coats and canes, and give you tickets for them, roll them up, tie them with twine and pile them down upon the bare floors of the already too nar- row corridors. The auditorium, it must be known, is not immediately open to the view on entering the theater, as {n America. You see naught but these corridors on any floor. The jail-like look is heightened by the little doors which open on these corri- dors, all numbered. These are the doors to boxes, which, in every Paris theater, ex- tend continuously all around what, with us, forms the back rows of the parquet circle. The old ladies dressed in black and white have their name of “ouvreuses,” or “open- ers,” from these box doors. If three go to the theater together, it is as cheap to take a box as any other good seats. Giving an ouvreuse your cloaks and coats (there is but little room for them inside the box), ‘That Scene is in Bad Taste. and giving her your ticket, she wiil “open” for you, or conduct you to your seat, wherever it may be. For this you hand her a few cents. Then she returns and sells you a program—for a few cents more. Then she returns and puts a wooden stool be- neath the feet of “madame,” asks if all is well—and you give her a few cents more, in order to insure that she will not return to ask to see your tickets, or to annoy you in a dozen other ways. Being once inside the auditorium and in your seat, you see that all the seats are packed so close together that it is an in- convenience to walk past or be walked past. You see the floor is so extremely dirty that to put your hat down on it means a ruined hat. You see that all the men around you have silk hats, which they hold in their laps the moment that the cur- tain rises, and put upon their heads again immediately the curtain falls after each act. With that they rise, turn round, and sweep the audience with prolonged and in- solent and comprehensive focusings of their big opera glasses. Two men together will discuss the good points of a lady, all in grande toilet, in the first row of the bal- cony, and fairly bore her through with their prolonged and ostentatious staring. This is the privilege of the orchestra chairs, which are usually reserved for men. The Paris theaters have three smells which predominate: The fragrance of or- ange peel, both fresh and dried; the smell of gas; and, with the second act, a hundred shades of mixed and modified and wander- ing smells and perfumes from out the dresses, handkerchiefs and hair of ladies overheated. Some think this agreeably sen- suous and vaguely troubling. The smell of orange peel pervades all Paris theaters, be- cause the management must make a little profit by farming out the right to sell these oranges between the acts. So peddlers in uniform march through the audience, cry- ing out their wares, their oranges and can- dy box Paris women want to have their orange and their candy at the play. They throw the skins beneath the seats. The Enough. sweepers have them for their own “petit benefice; and they sell them to the fac- tories of marmelade. ! Thump! Thump! The curtain is about to rise. According to an ancient custom, the manag 28- sistant pounds the stage with a thick iron- bound ciub. Thump! Thump! Thump! You hear the three blows given twice behind the curtain. Then comes the music of the orchestra, and then the play. Paris playwrights are now constantly re- proached with poverty of invention and with their reworking of old situations de- manding the old stock of characters. They ‘ming comedy out cf the most trifling of materials. Take the father of a family, jclly and philanthropi his wife, their daugh- ter (an angel), and a *young man without fortune, but charming. Mix and agitate them softly. Bring back an_ uncle America, who simply from tinue working them to- the denouement: “How or, “Go, be happy.” as easy for them. venerable old maa, a retired pork his two sons, thé good bastard nd the wicked Paul; a frightful v named Alphonse. who assists the in- famous Paul to seduce the poor Jeanne, af- ter having assassinated her father and her uncles. It is the good Plerre who is ac- cused, but the precocious little Nenesse (ag six years) is made to speak fn time to recogni: » assassin. ft the authors, the Paris playgoing, despite tts hundred Ss, one of the most ‘istiactly of Paris life. They a ined in schools supported by the government, and having old tra their ation is so perfectly clear and % nnered, and ali their actions are shly well stud and yet, with ase of th ce, 80 much more natural than nat that the illusion is more real than life If. This is especially the case in situations that are pathetit or sentimental. It is one of the commonest of sights to see the ladies of an audience I'm Going to Order a Dress Like That. and hiccoughing as they hunt out in the vestiaire when the in falls on the first act. At once ht. The waits be- ef. Half 3 are the public takes | so readily to cafes spectacles and music halls and the dance gardens. There- seems to be no remedy. The actors and the act- resses are in the habit of receiving calls and chatting to their hearts’ cont: And the manageiment desires the public to go upstairs to the buffet and increase ifs trade. A fourth of the full audience scramble, pusa and elbow to get out into the narrow corridor, climb up the narrow steps to reach | the buffet and refresh themselves. These buffets are not bars, but spacious enough promenad the center and around the sides. ‘They are usually situated on the second floor—the floor of the first balcony, where the seats are as high-priced as in the parquet. In Paris you take your lady with you for a drink between the acts. Beer, coffee, tice cream, champagne by the glass, and cakes and oranges, with a line of sirups served with water, are most popular. A little reom alongside is marked off for smoking; but it is so small that people stand iround the door and puff their cigarette smoke in the buffet, where the ladies take their “con- sommations.” No one objects. It is not that the Parisian ledies are good-natured; but they do not care. They are ured to cigarettes. Tread on the trail of a fine lady's dress and she will turn and give you a tongue lashing which will make you th she is an actress and declaiming on the stage. Thump! Thump! Thump! You hear the pounding. which denotes the second act is ready to begin. The curtain rises on the most expensive scene—some waterfall or other specialty, for which the management has spent a hundred dollars. The claque begins its vigorous applause. In Paris theaters you never have a coubt when you should ciap. Paid men en, in two solid companies up in After the Play, gailery—give the signal. They applind with so much effort that it is annoying to sit near them. As the piece runs on its course, the audience often warms up to husiasm, tears and deafening clapping, stamping and | loud cries of “bravo: But In order to in- sure the proper stimulus to actors, the paid- for claque is always in its place, forever clapping at the regulation points marked out for them beforehand. The claque is a fixed Paris cust: or bad. The waits, the dirty flo extortions of the “ouvreuses"—s are Paris customs, too. Perhaps they are part of a great system with th it is dangerous to tamper. In ri out in the world, we find that 4 eds to pleasure and that ugliness is i ably wound up along with beauty. ‘This, if the waits were not so long, the actors could not pose as grand artistes between the acts and receive the homage of their distinguished admirers, and they might not play so well. Perhaps, when Paris theaters become more modernized, more comfortable ard more luxurious, with better scenery, the precious acting which is now their single jewel will disappear. STERLING HBILIG. Pron saarcoeg HOU HOLD JOYs, The ration V jue of Different Flogvers and Their Culture. Written for The Evening Star. 2 To those who have but limited spage and time to give to the culture of flowers, ibis well to know how to choose those varieties that yield the best results with the least labor. It has grown to be aa almost uni- versal castom to employ floral decoration at every meal, even in the plainest house- holds, and thus to feed the eye with beauty as we take our daily bread. It is an evi- dence of the growing refinement of the people, and ought to be fostered by precept and example. The smallest yard and a few sunny windows can be made a depot of supplies throughout all the seasons with a very small expenditure of time and, moneys and the pleasure derived from personal efforts in cultivating flowers, js much Sreater than that derived by a inere pur chaser. Bought flowers are like adopted children. They are simply better than none. There is a great difference in the keeping quality of flowers when cut, and in the sma!l garden this trait should be chiefly considered. The first on the list that lv the longest when cut are the chrysant mums, and next the cosmos. The piants of each when once established are a perpet- ual inheritance. The needs of chrysanthe- mums are annuai enrichment, ‘and the cosmos will sow its own seed. Next the carnations withstand the tooth of time with great fortitude. All of the ‘family of jonquil and narcissus are famous ‘e Tor gevity, and when once established tn the! garden will take care of their own pdlter- ity. All the lily tribe are fine keepers. So are the begonias. Scarlet geranium is a useful decorator, Lut scarlet sage has uo value off the lu Heliotrope is only for a day. The hyacinth lasts long, but it is too heavy a perfume for the house. For foliage the asparagus {s almost immortal. It will outlive any flower, and it is by far the prettiest green decoration at every one’s command. The smilax lastS long, but is of a more tender growth. For winter the violet leads the van. We shelter ours m the garden, with a sash leaning agains the south side of the fence, and secured to | the fence by two leather straps. Above the sash is a piece of matting for the extreme cold days. They are held back on mil’ days by a hook and staple. When the mercury begins to fall it is a moment's work to drop them over the violet bed. The kinds that give us the most con- stant bloom are the North Carolina white and the English hardy blue violets, and we prefer to bring them in the house In a clump of bloom, sending them back to their chilly bed when they have served their time in| the dining room. The holiy tree branches last a long time In water; So does the ha thorn, and branches of rhododendron, whose buds are formed in the autumn, will burst| into bloom if put in a sunny window and well nourished with ammoniated water. Water and Ammonia. Flowers soon exhaust the water. The am- monia is an antidote to ferment and to mi- crobes, which, in a warm room, become a| poison to plants. Branches of the hardy ivy and princess pine, secured in bottles and i the bottles concealed in the folds of a cur- tain, will trail and grow about a window in a charming way. Concealed behind a pic-| ture, the vines of a sweet potato will come out to the light. The bottles should be weil corked and the stem passing through a ole in the cork to the ammoniated water and} changed once a fortnight. Roses are short lived, but by covering a bowl of them with wet tissue paper at night their beauty is prolonged. A sunny window in a cool room is the place for winter flowers to grow, but by selecting low-growing plants and cover- ing them with glass cake covers, such as the confectioners use, they thrive anywhere in the house. Go to the woods upon any fair day, remove the fallen leaves and bring home what young plants you will find wait- ing for the call of spring—partridge berry hepatica, blood roots, spring beauty, ferns trailing arbutus; plant them in moss, which you will also take up with the soil. Put them on a round dish, or a meat platter, and cover with a glass dish. If you have nothing better, invert glass finger bowls, or lamp shades from the chandelier, covered with a pane of glass. Watch the quick growth and bloom developed by the warmth | and moisture under the glass. One can have a miniature green house if he has at command an old glass showcase. It se- cures a clean, moist atmosphere for the plants, They do not dry out and disappoint you. They thrive, and when yeu raise the | Lid a breath from paradise will salute you | like a benediction. 8. P.O. coe Tanned by the Son. From Life. with cafe chairs and tables in | TYPEWRITING GIRLS Something About This Olas by One of Them. 1 Re a |THEIR SPEED AND COMPENSATION The Men They Work for and Their Peculiarities. MEN FE SRE On eee Written for The Evening Star. HE ABNORMAL,IN- satiable, unflagging interest which the reading public ap- pears to take in typewriting and type- writers is quite in- comprehensible to me, an old operator. Since, however, so much is written (and presumably read) en this subject, it seems but fair that the operators be given a hearing, although we are used to writing jether people's thoughts rather than our own, I have never belonged to any organiza- tion of typewriters or stenographers, but I have met incidentdily a number of opera- tora, some of them ranking high as experts, and I have never observed that we have any traits in common, at least none that may be considered incident to our calling. Typewriters do not differ as a class from women who follow other vocations. 1f you Were tomeet us on the street nothing would tell you that we belonged to the much-discussed class. None of us wear masks to conceal our beauty, as the para- grapher has it; some of us don't need to. We are so uniformly referred to as “pretty typewriters,” young and attractive, that it may be a surprise to the careless and unobservant reader to be told by one who knows that many of us are far from being striking beaut: some of us are horribly disagreeable; and a few of us have grown gray in the service. They Don’t Marry the Employer. Nor do we all marry our employer. In fact some of us do not marry anybody; and if we do, our employer is least likely to be the man, for while we see his business side thorough! and know his every whim re- garding his work, his social side is entirely unknown to us, as ours to him. If we were to meet outside of business we would rot know each other. A short time ago I saw an article regard- ing a system of telegraphic communication by the use of the space bar which had been established between two typewriters, and thought: How nice! But, although the space bar of a typewriter could be used fer the purposes of a telegraph key (as can almost anything) yet it would be a clumsy substitute, and would not enable the tele- graph operator to attain his best speed. Therefore while Miss Number One might have been dictating her notes to Number Two at the rate of sixty words a minute, she was clicking them to her at not over twenty. Few employers would enjoy that sort of performance if repeated very often. It was stated, moreover, that Miss Num- ber One's employer, having observed the peculiar understanding between her and Number Two, had given the work as a trap, and tnen had watched Number One closely to see if she did anything out of ordinary, but was unable to see that she did. No if, for any reason, I run my machine over by striking the space bar, my employer is sure to stop work and ask with eager curiosity “what the dickens I em doing.” But, of course, men differ; and same men might not notice the peculiar saund produced by conti,uous manipulation ‘ofthe space bar. . Dictation vs. Copying. In a recent article it was stated that oper- ators prefer dictation to copying, although the price was the same. There are days, as every operator knows, when the fingers won't work, and there are also often times when the head (at least of a typewriter) won't work. But for taking dictation the fingers and the mind must both be at their best. The greater part of dictation is given by court reporters, who can read their notes as fast as they wrote them, and whose work will take from four to eight hours in trans- eription. The notes represent their day work, and must usually be transcribed dur- ing the evening and night. Therefore, since they want to get a few hours’ sleep, and be at court again by 10 a. m., they want to spend just as little time as possible over the dictation, and consequently push the oper- ator to her very highest speed, no matter how rapidly she may write. A typewriter naturally feels proud of be- ing a fine dictation operator, because it is difficult work; but the strain is awful. While taking dictation the mind may not wander or the attention be relaxed for a moment. ‘These high-speed dictation workers break down or give up the business for something less wearing to the mind. Even the physical strain of writing for a reporter is consider- able. I have had my fingers lamed and my left thumb swollen tight after working sev- en or eight hours a day for a week or tw As to the price of this work, when I was engaged in it the reporters paid four cents per folio (100 words), while six cents was the price paid for copying, they arguing that sthe greater speed to be attained in dicta- tion made the price per hour to the-operator about the same. But, for approximately the same price per hour, you are on the one hand kept on the tensest nervous strain, generally from 5 or 6 to 11 or 12 p. m. (sometimes til daylight), while on the other, in copying, you can work during the and “take it easy,” as advised. And there is no reason why this class of work should ruin your health or nerves, $15-0-Week Lady. In the article last referred to, one young lady is reported as saying that one cent seemed small for 300 words, but “if I can't make $15 a week at that rate, and make it easy, I want to get out of the typewriting business.” Since she makes it easy, she, of course, does not work over eight hours per day. That is, in a week she makes $15; in and in an hour, 311-4 cents, e writes a tr over 9,300 words, And yet the same article represents the busy and sagacious reporter as “rushing off to a first-class typewriter,” who turns out for him 4,000 words In two hours. The 9,300-word young lady just mentioned would have done it for him in less than half an hour, and left him somewhat over an hour and a half to rest his throat. But stay! It is hardly fair to figure $15 per week down into an hour rate without allowing oceasional breathing spaces. As a matter of fact, the $15-a-week lady would need to write 10,000 words per hour in order to make $15 a week vg at the price she named. That would be 1662-3 words per minute. if there is another operator in town w! words,an hour for four consecutive hours, I have yet to learn of her, through my ac- quaintance with operators and reporters. And yet this lady, to judge from her own expressions, keeps up this 10,000-word rate our after hour, but week after » can write even 6,000 It was a great surprise and gratification to me to learn that Washington had such an operator, und one, too, so modest, for she evidently does not pose as an expert, but speaks of her capabilities as though they Se were by no means extraordinary. enty-five hundred words in a day of 1-2 houzs, is considered in the depart- ments to be excellent speed; and the oper- ator who can copy 5,000 words is safe from reprimand. The civil service commission gives king of 100 out perfect a to those applicants who copy at the rate of 65 w per minute in two to four minute tests. Miss Orr gained the champtonship by writing 112 words per minute for five minutes of memorized matter; and she is now employed where she does not use the machine constantly. Not Easily Rattled. It must not be supposed either that the best operators lose speed from nervous- in these tests, for they are accustomed ing dictation at all times, in all sorts of places, from all sorts of people, and are not easily “rattled.” What makes the absorbing intere typewriting and is the fact that { | | the use of the machine can be learned by anybody. Most business men éan sit down to the machine and carn ou: very fair copy when occasion demands, It has amused me sometimes to dictate my notes back to pthe man from whom { had taken them, he being able to operate his own machine faster than I could. To give a few facts and figures that | have come within my personal knowledge. The apparent speed of an operator is very misleading. A beginner who thinks she clicks along right lively is pretty apt to find when first she takes up actual work that she only does six or eight folios an hour. And one of the most efficient oper- ators in the Interior Department building whose chief is tireless in his praises of her work stated to me that she did not think her speed was in fact over twenty follos per hour, although peopie were constantly dropping in to watch her fingers fly. The truth is that exaggerated state- ments regarding speed are so common that an operator is almost forced to exaggerate to keep up with the procession. As the lady just referred to said to me: “I never say how fast I can write. People can see for themselves that I write rapidly, but if 1 were to say I wrote twenty folios an hour they would at once rank me among the operators who claim that speed.” The ordinary price in Washington is six cents per folio (one hundred words) for one copy. The rate of speed for copying is usuaily from eighteen to thirty fohos per hour, very few operators exceeding the speed last given. From dictation, as before stated, the speed would be considerably greater, But even the slower operator, turning out eighteen folios, makes (when, as the article last quoted observed, she has the work to do) $1.08 per hour, and she of thirty-folio speed makes $1.80. But an operator is seldom kept uninterruptelly at work week after week, so her year's earnings cannot be figured up from those of an hour. 1 do not know the yearly income of a single operator in Washington, but from what many of them say I judge that they regard $1,200 net as a good year. Of course they could often get that or more in the departments, and many fine operators do give up their work and take clerkships— not always to do typewriting. But the great charm of being in business for our- selves is that we are independent; we don't have to toady to a possibly disagreeable chief and his underlings; we can say what we think, if that is any pleasure; ani we do not fear losing our places. Then, too, our experiences are usually pleasant; we seldom meet discourteous treatment. The Men We Work for. i STATE INSTRUCTIONS aie Are Senators Bound to Vote as Leg- islatures Direct ? OPINIONS APPEAR TO DIFFER GREATLY Most Senators Think That Every- thing Depends on the Conditions. SOME DEFINITE EXPRESSIONS Copyright, 1894, by George Grantham Bain. x 8S A SENATOR OF the United States un- ger any obligation to cbey the instructions of the legislature of his state? He is un- der no legal obliga- tion. As one Sen:tor with whom I ais- cussed the subject puts it, the legisla- ture cannot make him resign. He can not be expelled from the Senate for ignor- ing instructions. The obligation, if any ex- ists, must therefore be simply moral. Is there a moral obligation resting on a Sen- ator which would compel him to vote for a measure against his own judgment simply because the legislature of his state has passed resolutions of instruction? The question was debated mm private conversa- tion among Senators recently. First, when the Kentucky legislature passed resolu- tions Instructing the Kentucky Senators to vote against the confirmation of Mr. Peck- ham to be a Supreme Court justice; after- wards, when the Maryland legislature A word as to our employers. They may| passed resolutions instructing the Mary- not differ from other people's employers, | land Senators to vote for “the Wilson bill.” but they have at least not been written | Of course, as Mr. ANison pointed out to me thread-bare, as we have. One man dic-| i" conversation, the instructions of the tates the most confidential work imagia-| Maryland legislature, it Strictly interpreted, able, and never says a word about your] could not be followed unless “the Wilson not mentioning it; while another brings in | bill” was offered in the Senate as a sub- matter that might be scattered broadcast | stitute for the bill reported by the finance without anybody taking the trouble to read | committee. The Senate bill is not “the it, and wants you to keep it under lock} Wilson bill,” and If they followed titerally and key, not to read it to another operator | the instructions they received Mr. Gorman lest it be overheard, and finally to destroy | and Mr. Gibson would have to vote against every scrap of the original copy—al of| the finance committee's bill, whether they which you reaily do, since that is his | ikea it or not. ‘desire. And yet another man tells you frankly that he likes to dictate his con- fidential work to you, because he thinks The Louisiana Senators. The Louisiana legislature meets in May. you have too much professional honor to It will elect two United States Senators. mention it, and he is sure you are too| If the tariff bill is still before the Senate stupid to understand it anyway. One man wants all the assistance you can give him, asks if his points are clearly stated, insists upon having you under- there is no doubt that the legislature will ask pledges of the candidates for Senator or will give instructions to the men elected stand them all, and is grateful for any|in regard to the sugar schedule. These change suggested. Another tells you that] instructk his copy is exactly as he wants it, in which case you follow the copy even if it goes out of the window, as it generally does. ions coming from the legislature which elects them and being in the nature of a pledge under which they accept office, However, we operators make no boast of | Will undoubtedly be obeyed. No one would the changes we make, partly because it/ question the obligation in that case. But mortifies a man to learn that his copy wa8] suppose that Mr. Caffery was a hold-over incorrect, and partly because we do some- times find a_man who serfously objects to any change. When we get hold of this cla: Senator elected by another legislature, com- |. perhaps, of an entirely different set we meekly change back to the old reading, | of men. Would he be obliged: to follow the however ungrammatical, and say that our] instructions of this new legislature—moral- correction was an oversight, or a type- writer mistake. Very often a word or sev- eral words will be left out, and we have to use our own diseretion about filling in| him to vote for the bil the hiatus. If our guess is correct the in- sertion is never noticed. Very likely the man who brings pen copy as clear as copper plate will apologize for his illegible writing and bad copy, while another will bring in the most peculiar handwriting. in ; subject. freely interlined, transposed and cut to pieces generally, and be pained and perplexed if it is not all read correctly. They Get Bad Copy. It is a fact that an operator sometimes gets copy that the writer himself is un- able to read, and has to make it out the best she can. For the reason that the op- erator thus often has to take the law into her own hands we do become somewhat dictatorial. That perhaps is the one com- mon trait peculiar to us. A gentleman was recently heard to say, on leaving the offi¢e of a Washington typewriter, that ‘iss Blank was a nice operator, but you had to let her do the work according to her own ideas.” The universality. among our employers of scruples about Sunday work is remark- able, At least, when we refuse to work on Sunday, they say they don’t believe in it either, except In cases of the direst neces- sity, such as the present one, of course. I never knew but one man who worked on Sunday without any excuse whatever, and he always wanted to know what apology ou could make for living if you wouldn't work on Sunday. The operator has here been spoken of as “she,” and the employ- er as “he,” for the reason that by far the greater number of the operators are wo- men and 99 per cent of the employers men. While it is more gratifying to us women to think that this preponderance of our sex in the business is due to a preference for us, on account of our greater aptitude, curacy, invariable beauty or what not, yet the great number of ex-typewriters among business men, lawyers, &c., is sufficient to ly obliged, of course? Assume that he be- Meved that allegiance to party required assume that he thought that the bill was better for the courtry than the existing law, though it did an injury to his people. W under obligation to vote for the ing his own judgment, or to vote against it, pencil, on an uncommon | following the instructions of his legisia- ture? Represen ves Embarra a. A great many of the representatives in Corgress were even more embarrassed than their Senators will be. Coming so directly! women of fifty dress like girls of twen from the people and looking to the people | and even at s so soon for re-election, they did not know | slightly modi whether they had more to fear trom neg~ | '™ lect of the interests of their districts or from failure to fulfill what they consi¢ered their party obligations. And they had ‘to consider, further, the President's wishes. Loss of patronage mea! loss of prestige to many Congressmen. they were be- tween the patronage devil and the deep sea of local tariff interests. Senators do not depend so much on patronage for re- election, and, besides, most of them do not go before their people again for three to five years. The Kentucky Senators solved the ques- tion in the Peckham case by voting with the President for confirmation—probably on the theory that the nomination of a Supreme Court justice from the state of New York was not a matter that cone: ed especially the people of Kentucky. 1! Maryland Senators decline to say what they: will do about the tariff instructions from their legislature or to discuss the question of legislative instructions in the abstract. In fact, very few Senators will talk about the matter. It has too much nai interest for them. Mr. Frye gave me his opinion very frankly. Senator Frye. “I think,” he said, “that in determining economic questions before Congress, or those of policy, involving no principle, or give color to the theory that one reason | those relating especially to the state he rep- for our preponderance is that men grow out of the business into something better while we stay in it. L. ————— The Teaching of Manners. From the Ladies’ Home Journal. resents in part, a United States Senator ought to be controlled by instructions, de liberately considered and passed by the legislature of his state. But no member of Congress, in whichever House, ought to be “Manners are minor morals," and a girl] considered as a mere agent of the people in should be taught, both by precept and ex- his district or of the legislature of his state. ample, that she does not fulfill every duty |The power of a member of Congress, for unless she exercises the art of pleasing. | good or for ill, is not limited by state or Ruskin says “Be sure that people like a | district lines, room better with you in it than out of it.” Home politeness is a great preserver of family peace. Sharp criticism and disa- greeable “home truths” are well nigh im- possible where courtesy is habitual. Courtesy and consideration for servants are distinguishing marks of a gentlewoman, and should be inculcated in early girlhood. Like all transitional phases girlhood is irregular in its development, and little faults must be overlooked with the loving charity that “hopeth all things.” Scolding {s worse than useless. It arouses antagonism, if only because angry looks and feelings are so contagious. One should walt until the irritation subsides before cor- recting any one. A reprimand given in the presence of others is apt to arouse a feel- ing of mortified pride that quite nullifies any impression that might otherwise be made, and it Is an exceptional person that can be trusted to be the bearer of a scold- ing. lt 1s apt to gather force en route. Argument between parents and children ts unseemly, and it is always best to avoid letting the point of contest become too im- portant. It is so much easier to live up to a good reputation than to live down # bad one that we should be most careful how we fasten a fault upon any one. This principle in ethics is strikingly ilustrat™ in the story of “Little Lord Fauntleroy,” where the stern grandfather {s positively shamed Into becoming almost the noble gentleman that his little grandson believes him. SENS <r hae Some Wedding Etiquctte. From the Ladies’ Home Journal. ‘The maid of honor reileves the bride of her bouquet at the altar, hands it to the first bridesmaid when it is time for her to assist the bride with her glove, or to throw back the veil; later on she takes it again and presents it to the bride just before she takes her husband’s arm and turns from the altar. The bride who is wise wears a somewhat loose glove on her left hand, so that the removal of it is a very easy mat- ter. A bride always gives her bridesmaids their gloves, and usually presents them with some Mttle souvenir of the wedding. The bridegroom usually gives each a piece of jewelry in which his and the bride's initials are combined. He presents the best man and ushers with their gloves, ties, and, very often, their scarfpins. Custom has made it proper for the bridegroom to wear a gar- denia in his buttonhole, the best man an orchid, and the ushers bouquets either of white violets, or some other small white flower. but extends over the entire country, and in arriving at conclusions as to his duty he must consider the interests of the republic, as well as those of his state. 1 do not think that any general rule can be laid down in the premises.” Mr. Allison, with whom I had some con- versation on the subject recently, said that he believed that the surrounding conditions should govern in each case. If his legisla- ture instructed him to vote for the tariff bill reported to the Senate at this session, for example, he would not vote for it. But if he had been instructed by the Iowa legis- lature to vote for the McKinley bill, even though it contained provisions which did not have his approval, he would have felt bound to follow those instructions. Mr. Allison, too, does not believe that any fixed rule can be laid down. Depe m Circumstances. “I don’t think I care to discuss for pubil- cation the question whether a Senator is un- der any moral obligation to follow the in- structions of his legislature,” said Mr. Platt of Connecticut. “It would depend upon circumstances and conditions, which will suggest themselves to you.” “The answer to the question would, in my opinion, depend very largely on the cir- cumstances of the case,” said Mr. Higgins, “and makes the answer to the question largely a matter of conjecture.” Mr. Teller declined to express an opinion, because, he said, he could not give it the time and attention that it deserved. Mr. Cockrell said out of the avalanche of work which has come upon him as chair- man of the appropriations committee: “Each Senator must determine for himself the moral obligation, if any, imposed upon him by instructions passed by the jegisla- tive body of his state.” “I am thoroughly satisfied thet a Senator of the United States is under every obligation to follow and obey the instruc- tions of the legislature of his state, unless he was elected to the Senate upon ‘contra- dictory issues,” said Mr: Perkins of Cali- “A Senator should endeavor to rep- resent the majority of the people of his state.” Mr. Mitchell of Oregon. Said Mr. Mitchell of Oregon: “You pro- pound this question, ‘Is a United States Senator under any moral obligation to fol- low the instructions that may come to him from the legislature of his state, and when and why? My answer to this is that while the instructions of the legislature of a state are entitled to the very highest considera- In entering the church the ushers come | tion upon the part of a Senator instructed first, then the bridesmalds, walking two by two, then the maid of honor alone, and then the bride on the arm of her nearest male relative. In coming out, the bride and groom are first, the maid of honor next with the best man, and usually the in reference to any public question, such Senator is not under any moral obligation or any other -kind of obligation to follow such instructions. A Senator is the ai credited agent and representative of hi state, receiving his commission from the bridesmaids, each walking with an usher. | legislature of his state for a certain specified I say usuaily because sometimes the bride: maids walk out together as they came with the ushers just behind them. in, his duties as such term. He ought to be permitted to exercise Senator as a free a hisown hect Juaome | iness in. thel |which would s id he bej pects to have |. follow- | Perhaps, too, with this lack of formality course, to any suggestions of a future legis- lature careful and mature consideration. If same legisiature that elected him, he would not be such free agent. He would be # mere automaton, subject to the changing opinions of legislatures. “AS a test, I submit structicn of that particular Jegislature,” said Senator Peffer. “He is not so morally bound to follow the instructions of any sub- sequent legislature the same subject, unless it is in accord with the prior in= structions.”” “After a United States Senator is elected for a fixed term,” said Senator Chandler, “he is absolutely independent of the legisla ture of his state and is not any more to follow the instructions of a lematere is of his state than he is the other body of men. He is under moral obligation to give careful heed Pression of opinion given within his state, whether from a legislature or any other body, whether from citizens collectively or from individual citizens. Sometimes a Sen- ator may wisely yield his own judgment to himself constrained by any bonds or in- structions whatever.” All of which leaves the subject as unde- termined as it has been for nearly a cen- tury, during which it has been debated at intervals among public men. But at least it contributes a little of contempo- rary opinion on a subject which will agitate more than one Senator after the next meet- ing of the legislature of his state. GEORGE GRANTHAM BAIN, —_—__— WHAT WE ARE DOING. Old School and New School Manners Compared and Contrasted. From Harper's Bazar. “Most arts require Jong study and appli- cation, but the most useful art of all, thet of pleasing, requires only the desire.” So writes Lord Chesterfield in his Letters to his Son, which contain many valuable hints on manners quite as well worth observing today as they were at the time in which they were written. Whether our manners have improved with the advance of our civilization is an open question. In the rush and hurry of modern American Iife, particularly in the larger cities, we have no time for the formalities and graces which characterized the manners of those whom we now call gentiemen and ladies of the old school; but when we are so fortu- nate as to meet one of these delightful per- sons, we have still sense enough to appre- ciate the dignity and superiority of their manners as compared with those of the modern day. Etiquette was considered es- sential in the time of our grandmothers, and certain rigid rules of deportment were part of every well-bred aad “genteel” young woman's education. Old ladies of that gen- eration must be justly horrified at the lounging manners which giris cultivate nowadays, and at the noticeable careless- attitude toward their elders, em to be disrespectful and familiar. Perhaps, in justice wo the young KS, this is not altogether their own fault, he older wo neithe? exacts nor ex- ay deference shown her. there is an increase of sympathy existing between the young girl and her seniors. But, we somehow miss the sweet, r™ # old lady, such as we of an older generation remember our grand- mother to have been—a lady whose very presence was a benediction, and to whom we showed only our best side. Now most y the style of dress is on}, ed; gray hair is worn in the fashion, and even gtay bangs are sometimes seen; one never, or rarely ever, finds caps worn; end, in fact, there are no ol tadies et 3 elderly wor vdeavors, by adopting the fashions of the moment, to disguise her age always fails to deceive any one, and misses the charm of repose and calm which should come as years increase. In defense nis it is scid that a woman of sixty is active and energetic a member of so- to gtow old graceful she has abso- no time to sit placi@ly down with her ; or her book and to look serene and happy; she has her household cares, which are many and vexatious; her various social duties, which are exacting and unsatis- fa and her cherities, which require ght and active personal attention. The younger members of the household all have their respective duties, each one fillung th: day very full, so that thelr elder gets little or no tamce from them. Ours is a busy life, and the result is that about five times as many duties and cares devol upon each person as she can possibly a complish, and in her haste to perform them, thoughtful and gracious and formal man- ners musi be neglected. In England married women wear caps more ccmmonly than here, and very Sweet and matronly they look in them. In France. too, this headdress is worn, end nothing can be daintier and more becoming than a French cap. Occasionally one meets a cer- tain lady in New York who put on caps when she was married at eighteen, and has worn them ever since. They are made now of real lace and pinned on to the hair with very handsome jeweled pins. In the even- ing for very full dress she wears feathers in her hair, fastened with an aigrette of jewels. This is very elegant, but beyond the means of many persons. A simpler cap would be equally pretty, end the feathers fastened with an old-fashioned brooch would be quite as becoming and effective. There should be the same dignity in one’s dres: as there is in one’s manners, and trifling this may seem, it would have an influence on those with whom one comes in contact, and one would be treated with correspond- ing respect. One of the suggestions given by @ “mind- curer” is that if the patient feels listless and good for nothing and is lolling about in a loose gown, she shall immediately care- fully make a toilet and put on her best dress. No sooner is this accomplished than the result desired is obtained. She pulls herself together, as ag adm | _ another person. Another effect of clothes on one’s mental attitude was a rule which obtained in a young woman's boarding school. None of the girls were allowed to wear shawls or wrap- pers in the house, the principal having learned from e: ce that this strfe of dress induced great carelessness and Indo- lence of manner and loss of thought. That our ancestors regarded dress with much respect we judge from old journals and letters. Here is a description of a girl’s first ball dress, taken from a letter written in 1838, by a young woman of fif- teen to her maiden aunt: “I went to the ball on the 224 and enjoyed myself very much; I did not take any . We had beautiful music and an excellent supper; at least it looked nice, but I did not eat anything. I was afraid if I did I might be sick. Perhaps you would like to know how I was dressed. I bought me a bishop's lawn dress at 70 cents a yard (it was a very nice piece), and got Miss Alma Bradiey to make it. She made it Grecian bodist, and leg-of-mutton sleeves plaited down. She said that ruffied sleeves were entirely out of fashion. I had a piece of pink gauze ribbon tied in a bow at the bottom of the plaits and a piece of same tied around my waist and tied ina bow at the point. I had a pink Donna Maria scarf with a tassel at each end and fastened on the left shou!- der with a very small bouquet. I had a new palr of white =, = a new pair of French slippers, and a lace Kerchiet trimmed with a marrow lace edg: ing. I wore a thin flannel petticoat and a thick one, with another cambric muslin one over that. I had on a pair of worsted Stockings and silk ones over them. T had my heir curled at the barber's; I had to sit still two hours to have it done. I went to the ball at 7 o’clock and got home at 2. Miss Sarah Hildreth was the belle; she looked very beautiful; she had on a satin dress with a figured blond over that, and a black mantilla. Her blond dress was so long that it dragged seven or elgit inchee.” Jt is said in fashionable society that it i= very bad form to say “please” or “thank you,” particularly to a servant, but, withstanding this, no gentleman or lady ver omits any act of courtesy, even to an r. Much could be secomplisted in ng respect and attention from tte’ juniors if the older persons would acknow'- edge any little act of politeness with a us Word or smile. To ouote Chester- “A man’s good fn azainst moder: