Evening Star Newspaper, May 5, 1894, Page 18

EXPANSIVE STYLES Both Skirts and Sleeves Show No Signs of Contraction. STIFFNESS THE FEATURE OF DRESSES Some of the New Styles for All Ages and Occasions. THE STAMP OF FASHION They are built out of “horsehair” cloth— and, by the way, never a thread of it horse—and they stand out behind, and have a plain ith a ruffle on the bottom. for “stand-up” gowns, be- no mortal woman could sit down in the things without making a spectacle of I would about as soon put on a barrel gored at the top to fit the the waist; it would be quite as graceful im disposing of itself wisi one sits down. 4 Some women have had their spring gowns made with aluminum strips in the bottom. Whis metal is so springy, yet is not un- cefully stifc, but it is open to objections. it im the West End recently I saw a pretty yourg girl come tripping down the Steps of her home, clad in a charming new gown. She was going to take advantage of the fresh sweet air and walk. She got outside of the gate, and giving one of those indescribable shakes that women affect when starting, she took two steps, and—sat down. She sat very hard, and re- gardless of the fact that the sidewalk was wet from a recent shower! It was evi- ‘Twine-Colored Canvas. @ently much easier to sit down than it was to get up, for she scrambled around in it shape before she got the high heel of small boot extricated from the steel in the bottom of her new gown. If you want to make that young lady furious just men- tion steels to her! Another substitute for hoops is feather bone. It is a little clums: however, and more dresses are spoiled with it than are made pretty. It has to be put im carefully, to look well. No Centraction in Dress. It really does look as though the tendency of gowns to inflation increases as the cur- rency contracts. Sleeves, for instance, do mot grow one bit smaller, though the ten- dency ts to creep down toward the elbow. ‘They have got to the point where the lavish use of material calls for a prop, and it has come in the shape of a wire, which is in- enfously inserted in the top of the volum- ous sleeve drapery, and holds it out in shape. This will do in some kinds of soci- ety, but at an official reception at the White House, or one of the sought-after affairs at one of the legation houses, a wired sleeve would s ‘@ poor show for symmetry. Revers have reached the highest point of absurdity, and soon will hasten to their de- cline and fall. So wide are they now that they lop over in an exasperating way unless picketed down. The fancy stick pins have Served the country well in fastening the fevers to the tops of sleeves, but they have their disadvantages, and jabbed unmerciful- ly at most inopportune times, so some bril- liant creature, struck with an idea, had hers boned! From the throat right out to the point of the rever she had her dressmaker put a whalebone! It straightened out the refrac- tory flaps in fine shape, but if a gale cf ‘wind should happen to strike the wearer of such @ gown, she would scud along before the breeze with all sails set in a fashion that she might not like. The Incroyable bow has been thrown a bone also. It is fan-plaited under a close knot at the throat, and the bow ends that reach out on the shoulder have a bone stitched in to keep them open and taut. That puts an end to the popularity of that piece of attire. It was 60 exaggerated that well-dressed women soon abandoned it, anyhow. If the craze for in- @ation goes on, it will not be long till we will have the wired “falling ruff’ of the Elizabethan period, and the stiff petticoats, cruelly contracted waists and enormou: headdresses. There is a leaning toward the headdresses right now, In the awful mix- ture of stuff that women pile on the things that they call hats. Some Dress Materials. The tendency to stiffness is further shown in the fashion of dress materials. Moire gets thicker and less pliable al! the time, and grows more in favor. It is used fm every conceivable way on dresses and in sleeves and capes, and ts a prime favor- ite for whole gowns. If the quality is super- fine a gown made of it is an elegant gar- ment; but the fine quality costs a great deal, and a cheap quality ts an abomina- tion. Cheap moire locks very well to use as trimming, but a sensible woman will hardly think of having a whole gown out of it unless she can pay about $2 a yard for it. Mohair is another of the stiff materials that is quite the rage just now. Some yery handsome light mohair gowns have been made for wear at the seaside and for summer traveling gowns it will be quite the favorite. The dark shades have a pretty sheen, and they have the quality of shedding dust perfectly. The shops are showing some in pin checks, and a few in stripes, but the prettiest are plain. The new summer dress materials are all im pompadour effects. The ground work is in solid color*of Persian lilac, lemon yellow, bud green, pale blue and bluish ink, and over these will be scattered tiny nots of flowers tied with flowing ribbons or single buds and blossoms. So natural are they that one would say tl they had fallen there from nature’s hand. The materials are varied, being lawns, organ- dies, summer silk, grenadine and mohair. The thicker materials ha’ the flowers brocaded in silk and are works of art. As to Skirts. The white petticoat, that was announced as playing a return engagement, has not materialized yet, and it is to be hoped that it never will. A more disgusting thing than a@ drabbled white petticoat can hardly be imagined; in these days, when a woman's dress is made for the express purpose, as it would seem, of holding up above the shoe- tops, the petticoat becomes a matter of as much moment as the gown that is worn over it. A skirt that matches the dress is 'y Fetching. the prettiest, by all odds. But it is not pos- sible to have this in all instances, and the @ black skirt. 1f you can much the better, for you easy again in silk as any other material. hole silk garment is be- yond your m have a satine, and put two or three ruffies of silk on it, They look very pretty lace trimmed, but you will not get as good service out of such a petticoat. Your skirt should be as carefully made as your dress. It should clear the ground by three inches all around, and should be a trifle shorter in the back than in front. A petticoat should not be over three yards around the bottom if you want to have any | comfort in walking, for it will flop around if it is much wider than that. Wear as many white petticoats as you please in the house, and trim to the limit with lace and embroidery, but unless you are wearing a dress on the street that is largely white, don’t wear white petticoats there. If you want a modish gown that will do for visit- ing or walking either, one that I have seen | this week ought to please you. The skirt is of rich moire antique, black, of course. | The long overskirt completely covers the dress in the back, hanging in full godet plaits, is of the new shade of twine-colored | canvas, fine and wiry enough for anybody. The overskirt opens on the left side and is| caught with large black velvet bows. The pointed peplum is of canvas, and above that | is a ripple of black velvet. The back of the} body is cut on the French style without seams, and is fitted over the lining; the front is full and has a vest outlined ‘with flashing jet. The upper part of the sleeves is of the canvas and the lower part is made of velvet. The high collar is velvet, and the ripple ruffle is canvas with velvet Be band. The hat is a curious twine-colored Straw that looks as though it might be plaited out of rope, and the trimming is jet and velvet. x A Young Matron’s Dress. A remarkably stylish gown. which will go to the seaside is for a young matron. It is of fine dark brown mohair—years and years ago they called it alpaca, you know— the skirt being walking length with a mod- erate flare. The overskirt is of the same material and color, but the points are lined with scarlet silk and fly free of everything, the ends of the longest decorated with bows of brown velvet. The jacket, body and sleeves are dark brown moire and the odd revers have a tiny beading of bogwood beads. The vest is buckskin and fastens under the edge of the moire. The hat is a pretty brown straw, with moire and lace trimming. It is strikingly stylish and ef- fective. For a tall, slender girl who is willowy and graceful here is a blouse wai gown that was created especially for her. It ts of tan crepon and the overskirt, which is pointed Simply Elegant. im front, evens off from the sides to a straight ruffie in the back, making it look like a two-skirted dress, with the lower one @ little the longest. The waist is brown changeable taffeta, shading into gold, and is simply lovely; the shoulder caps are full ruffies and fit in around the sleeve. The full piece which is fastened in with the shoulder seams is brought forward and fastened under a dainty bow of brown moire ribbon, another being placed at the waist line. The belt !s of wide moire rib- bon, and from under it falls a deep box- plaited ruffle of the taffeta. Of White Broadcloth, I saw a strikingly elegant walking dress the other day on a friend who shuts her eyes and orders her wardrobe at random from the costliest materials. I expected to hear that the dress in question cost a lot of money, but I was actually paralyzed when she said that she had paid $85 for it. You can see for yourself that it was an outrage- ous price, but as it came from a man mil- liner, that is easily accounted for. The ma- terial is a cream-coiored broadcloth, as smooth and fine as satin, the = Lovaas | made very flaring, with godet plaits wih and held by stays. Her dress is lined with silk, but that is not a necessity. The body is made with the uncut French back, and has a sash of thick black satin ribbon tied in front. The wide revers are faced with gream satin and corded with black satin. The waist is cream moire antique, with a rosebud and leaves embroidered pink and green. The sleeves are banded to the arm with black satin. The moderately wide hat is of plain black satin, with a wreath of tiny pink buds and leaves and some black lace. It is one of the most stylish gowns that has been brought to Washington yet this season, but between you and me, it can be reproduced for about $25. Then you can take the belt out of some old gown that was made by a man milliner, and when your friends ask toy who made the gown silently point to che name on the belt; I know people who do that. They turn their fur capes and coats wrong side out, and lay thein over the back of the seat at the opera so that those behind them can ascertain that they were imported; but the world got éven with one Woman who did that last winter. There was a “mark-down” sale of furs, and she invested in a handsome enough seal cape, but she was not. satisfied with that, so took from an old cape the firm mark of a foreign house, and fastened it on the col- lar. She forgot to read the card, however, and while the collar showed off in great shape over the back of the seat, the lower corner of the cape, purchased’ that day, poked itself through between the seats, and there in plain view was the legend, “Mark- | ed down. Was—. Now—.” Giving the two prices, and I don’t suppose that she knows to this day what it was that so amused the people back of her that night. BELL BALL, —_—>__. To Encourage Literature. From Puck. Miss Bleeker—“T’m so interested in our reading club. I wasn't at first; but I never miss a meeting now.” Miss Beacon—“What are you reading?” Miss Bleeker—“Well, we're not reading anything at present. We're making prepa- rations to give a dance.” LOOKING BACKWAR Senora Sara Gives a Glimpse Into & Treasured Collection. DRESS SCRAPS AND THEIR MEMORIES Pictures of Sadness and of Joy on Memory’s Wall. A FAD WITH A SENTIMENT a Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HAVE UNWIT- tingly become an in- strument of torture to myself and to a large circle of long- suffering mothers and friends of young women, who take to fads as a.Congress- man takes to filibus- tering, and the unre- strained pursuit of either is bound to make things uncom- fortable for sensible It came about in this way. A people. short time ago I visited in another city, with an old classmate whom I have not seen since we graduated, and that was— well, a good many years ago, perhaps twenty will measure the flight of time, though you may find it to be more before I tell you the story of my latest grievance. One evening when we were up in her room in dressing gowns and our hair down—the lights were low and we could not see the gray threads—we were discuss- ing the friends of those early years, when Katharine mentioned a photograph that three of us had had taken together in our graduating gowns, and asked me if I re- membered it. At first I didn’t, so from the secret depths of her Saratoga she bought forth a carved sandal wood box, exquisite- ly inlaid with gold and mother-of-pearl. I remembered the box; it came from Cey- lon and was given her by her sailor uncle when she was a little child. From her Jewel box she abstracted a tiny gold key and, with fingers that trembled, she pushed it im the lock. “It has not been opened in fifteen years, Sara,” she said, unsteadily, as she raised the lid, letting the imprisoned perfum steal like incense through the room. “I is—like—opening—a long-closed tomb,” she | went on, with a little quaver in her voice, and then it flashed over me that it had been ‘3 since I got the cards to never came off! Death, stronger than love or life, stepped in be- tween, and one was taken and the other left, Since then my friend has known how bitter a thing it is to look into happines: only through another’s eyes. While my mind was past, my eyes were busied with a curious bulky looking book which Katharine lifted | from the sandal-wood box. Turning up the lights, she laid the queer thing on my lap, then dropped on a hassock at my feet, with her elbow on my knee in her ol¢ girlish fashion. with the fire light on her face and her ghin hand resting on the cover of the bookI | could see the purification that suffering had wrought. Sorrow and trials have been her constant companions since she left school, but, like a wind-blown flower, she bowed her head till the storm passed, and then the fragrance of her gentle life made all the air sweet again. An Old-F; foned Photo. “Nellie is dead, you know,” she sald at last, turning the leaves of the book rapid- ly. “She died in Rome, twelve years ago. Here is the picture,” and the thick leaves fell apart at a cabinet photograph, un- meunted, but pasted on the leaf. What a queer looking thing it was. It. was badly taken to start with, and had faded and blurred till’our feet and hands, in com- mencement array of conventional -white kid, looked even clumsier than usual. The odd old-fashioned puckered-up dresses of white silk and mull and ‘the perfectly in- ane expression on our countenances was irexpressibly funny, and we laughed till the tears came. The distance between tears and.laughter is but short, you know. “What in the world is this book any- how?" I asked, with the delightful as- surance of curious friendship. “This is surely a piece of the lace that trimmed my [ sae pp gown. Grandmother made it herself. She brought the art with her from Ireland. This is a bit of your gown; I re- member we were all frantic with envy at its exquisite fineness, and I am just as pos- itive that this is a piece of the identical sash that you gave Nellie at the time that you gave me the pearl brooch. They all came from Yeddo, together. How it all comes back to me.” “It is even so,” said Katharine, with a sad smile as she smoothed the bits of silk and mull. “And over on the next page you will find one of the commencement invita- tions, and a flower from the bouquet that I carried. How brown it is,” and she Idid her cheek for an instant against the still fragrant thing that had once been a white lilac. ‘‘You remember the time we had get- ting enough white lilacs for all of the girls? That is a bit of the ribbon that tied my bouquet. It is an odd mixture, isn't 1t?” She said at last, reverting to my question. “I call it my memory book. I have my dear old grandmother to thank for its existence. 1 was the first grand- child and her favorite. I presume that I inherited my love for keeping mementoes from her. She had whole cabinets of little things, reminders of accidents and inci- dents in her eventful life. When I came into the world, she began to collect for me. See the cover of this book. Isn't it gor- geous?”’ and she closed it to show me the ruddy color. Reminders of Former Days. “That red velvet came from Lyons, and was a present from my godfather. It was my first short cloak, and this cover was made from the corners of it, which were elaborately embroidered in gold, as you can ses, Grandmother did the embroidery, and in the center is made with threads of my own ‘lint white locks’ by th loving fingers. These first insi leaves were made from the moire antiq of my mother’s wedding gown. See! it is stiff asa board. They don’t make such silk as this now, except on order. Grandmother made the first little clothes that I wore from linen that she wove herself when sh was a girl. The girl who had not a fu outfit of household linen that she had woven and — up with beng pai hi a = feos thought fit to marry my grandm day. She made most of the fine edging and lace for my clothes, too. The real thread. “See, these first pages are all taken up with bits of my baby clothes; isn’t the linen fine and soft? We were favored babies, Sara! I remember that your grandmother made exquisitely fine lace, too. This was y very first baby cap and shirt,” and she Bela them up on her fingers. They were hardly big enough for a doll. Under each bit of linen and lace was the date of the first wearing. Against the third page a tiny ring of yellow hair was tied with a bit of baby ribbon. The inscription under it was: “July 18—Katharine christened. Three months old today.” And the rest of the page was fastened full of linen and jace and ribbon, scraps from the christen- Ing clothes. At the bottom of the page, in the angular, upright characters of the day, was a verse. Just a wee, winning, helpless baby, With eyes of the sky’s deep blue, With curis of spun sunshine’s fineness And a voice like a ring dove’s coo, The First Red Shoes. “Grandmother was considered something of a poet in her day, but I think that that dear little verse is all that is in existence pow. Oh, that bit of kid! I am sure I re- member those shoes, though grandmother said it was absurd to say so. They were my first red boots, dnd I was four years old. I ran out in the rain to show them to a little friend who had none, and got them soaking wet. I slipped back to the nursery, and put the shoes close up to the fire on the hearth to dry! When I thought of them, an hour later, they were crisped brown, and my howls of rage raised the whole house. Grandmother got a little piece out of the back of one of them.” There were three or four pages of scraps from Uttle dresses, each one neatly pasted on the thick page, and dated. Then she came to a whole page taken up with a piece of com- mon white calico, with a small lavender legf in {t, and on the narrow margin under it, “Katharine’s sixth birthday. A present from her godmother.” “How they did tease me about that,” she said, as she turned the page to get a better light on it. “I was taken by my godmother to the city for the purpose of selecting for myself a birthday dress. A number of taking an excursion into the | As she sat for a moment | pretty silks, checked and striped, were spread out on the counter for me to select from, but across the aisle was this partic- ular piece of calico, and it pleased my fancy. I would have nothing else! My god- mother got the calico and that pink and white checked silk on the next page, but, despite the bantering of the combined fam- ily, I liked the calico the best, always.” There were pages and es taken up with lawns and light silks, merinos and delaines. Then there came one whole @ devoted to blocks of pale blue silk, and on the opposite page, in the angular hand- writing, the ink faded with age, was the date and the words: “Katharine's first trained dress. The child’s feet stand now where maid and woman meet.” And un- derneath it, in fresher characters, which I recognized as Katharine’s; “Seventeen beau- tiful years.’”” Not Given to Flirting. After this were several pages of scraps that I recognized, for it was at this time that our paths met and tor four happy years ran side by side. We had some good laughs over some of these. One recalled a climb among the -White mountain: veral bits of dresses represented a month’s visit together in the city, and under each was the comment, in fresher ink than the date, which told that Katharine was a prime favorite. Under one she had written, “Will proposed; declined with thanks; what do I know of love?” Poor Will! He was such a happy-go-lucky sort of a fellow he never loved anybody very long at a time. Under a light green silk another declination was noted. Thii time in the grandmother's hand, with the comment, “I trust the child is not given to flirting.” ,‘Poor granny! She always spoke of me as ‘the child;’ there were a dozen others by the time I got into long dresses, but I was ‘the child to the end. You remember this, don’t you, Sara? How proud we were the day we rode out first with these on.” “This” happened to be a piece of blue velvet and a bit of gold braid laid across it, In gn instant there flashed before my eyes @ vision of two fair-haired girls in flowing blue velvet riding habits, with waists giddily embroidered with gold braid, mounted on two white horses! What a sensation such an ensemble would create on the Washington ‘Rotten Row” today! Truly the years creep on apace! After the riding habit reminis- gence came scraps of dresses that I remem- bered very well indeed, for by that time we had become twin souls, and I refreshed my memory with the comments that Katharine had made quite copiously at that period. Then dame the graduation gowns and the See a Leis oe teri turned thi over I saw that the angular han writing had disappeared and only Katha: ine’s dainty chirography was in evidence. The Old-Time Gra: other, “Grandmother gave the book into my keeping when I came home from school. Up to that time I did not know of its ex- istence,” explained Katharine, as she touch- ed with gentle fingers a lock of white hair tied to a page with a white satin ribbon. “The dear old grandmother gave it to me | a8 my graduation present from her, and nded her part of it with one of her own retty curls. The streamer of ribbon was on the cap that she wore at my graduation. There are none of the old school of grand- mothers left now, I think; none like my grandmother, anyhow. It makes me shud+ ; der. when I think that she might have taken to bangs, hair dye, curling irons and French novels, instead of making thread lace and leaving me this loving reminder f her tender love for me. I was so Ge- lighted with the memory book, and to- gether we went over it, and added the lit- tle touches which you find in my own hand. Not many people ever saw it. It is not one of the things that one would care to show, you know.” After the page or two of somber crape and silk that marked the first real sadness of Katharine’s life and the death of her mother and grandmother came soft dove grays and white. Under one dead-white satin, lustrous and ric | bud, da sentence, “Mr. Walters likes | white.” “You know,” she said, as she | touched the shining fabric, I did know that | it was in this dress that she met the man for love of whom her after life was deso- late. Then there were many white iresses, silk and challie and lawn and delaine. Under them was usually a description of the fashion in which they were made. Soon the shade had, in a measure, passed away, and pretty browns, blues and greens ap- Dea: There was one splendid wine-red satin. The date under this was just six months later. than the one under the white satin, and beside it was written, “Queen Rose of the rosebud garden of girls is what he called me, and he is to wear me over.” Memortes of Past Joys. After this were scraps of ball gowns, re- ception toilets, visiting and carriage dresses without end, almost. Katharine w: a Great belle at that time and much sought. Beside each dress was the fashion, often the picture of the way in which it was mede. The comments were a perfect index of the bright life in which she was so Well fitted to shine. Sometimes the pages were embellished with pen sketches of epi- sSodes or unusual occurrences, for Katharine was apt with both pen and pencil. Some- times there were photographs. Here and there a bit of sea weed told of seaside trips; sometimes a singie fern spoke of wild wood rambles. Four pages had but a single date, and no comments; that page was dated fifteen years back. The fabrics were of the rich- est and rarest. On a page by itself was “the dress.” White satin again, thick and creamy, and over it was laid a cuff of duches lace. A pair of long white gloves, wrapped in silk paper, just as they came from the maker, were laid between the leaves, and a handsomely engraved wed- dirg card was with them. There was but cne more leaf, and when I turned it, there smiled up at me from the satin-smooth page the face of a man in splendid prime. end written across the picture, in firm, menly characters, was the name—‘Julian Walters.” Below was a newspaper clip- pirg—a paragraph stating that Mr. Julian ‘Walters died suddenly at sea while on his return to the United States to claim his promised bride. Katharine closed the book and laid it back in the sandal wood box. “It will never see the light again,” she id, as she turned the key in the lock. t does the dead no good, and works in- justice to the living to parade one’s grief forever before them.” But as we talked into the morning hours I knew that the white ashes of the long-burned out fire were no more lifeless than the joys my friend once knew. The Girls Were Wild About It. ‘When I came home my heart was so full of the pretty sentiment of the memory book that I told Dorothy and Elaine about it! O, what a tangled web we weave, when we sive girls a chance to work out new fads! It was not an hour till every girl in the set knew all about the idea—of course I did not think it necessary to tell the whole history of what was inside the lids of Katharine’s book. But I told them enough for them to get an idea of how to make one and it took like a “house afire,” in Dick's expressive words. Such a Se around for scraps you never saw. O! chests and drawers, ‘piecebags and treasure troves have been forced to yield up their [eens and there is no knowing where the ‘raze will end. From the specimens I have seen in process of making one might almost call them “posthumous memory books.” Jennte said very blandly,the other day, that of course she had no scraps of her buby clothes, but mamma remembered all about them, and some day soon they would i to ‘one of the shops and select samples of the Laer and laces that most resemble those that she wore when she was a baby! And that is just as much sentiment as most People are ever blessed with. I understand that I am being execrated on all sides by the mothers who ought to have had this crisis of fads in mind from the first and provided for it. I am con- templating 5 pd into retirement until the Worst of it is over. SENORA SARA, ——_———. Hall Settles, From Harper's Bazar. The common laundry table is much used for hall and piazza settles, and when stain- ed and cushioned it bears no small resem- blance to the antique “monks’ benches’ which have been revived, of late, A table of this sort may be purchased for $4 or $5, and by pasting strips of lincrusta slong the edges and applying oak stain a very good effect of carved oak may be ob- tained, but it must be well polished to give @ satisfactory result. Mirrors are sometimes set in the high back, which add much to its elegance, and with a cushion of dark green corduroy for the seat a really effective piece of furniture may be secured. These benches are often ornamented with poker-work, which is easily mastered; but rail-head decoration is the simplest and most showy of all, as no skill whatever is required, only mathematical accuracy in drawing the pattern and a certain regu- larity in driving the nails. For piazza use this settle is very popular, but treatment of the sort first mentioned ‘would be too elaborate, and a simple appli- cation of dark red paint, with a cushion of corduroy or linen to match, is all that is necessary. Horsford’s Acid Phosphate Is vitalizing in its effect om the oervous system. He is the Most Self-Satisfied Crea- ture on Earth, A PICTURE OF MALE BEAUTY A Girl’s Interesting Talk of Her Fiance. GOOD-LOOKING COUPLES RARE ee Picnic, another a party, and still another a| Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HAT IS THE MOST elf-satisfied creature on earth?” a man asked of several peo- ple who were congre- gated together trying to find something to talk about. “The newly made captain of a new militia company,” an- swered one man. He had certainly named a being that thinks himself worthy of public regard, but the answer did not seem satisfactory. “A terrier that has just caught a rat,” said another, and he was hitting pretty near the bull's eye, for no man that has ever seen a spirited terrier with the dead rat in his mouth will be apt to forget his air of intense satisfaction with himself. “A bride,” guessed another man. This ‘was getting nearer. After the bride has re- turned from the honeymoon and has over- come the self-consciousness that pursues her in the very beginning, she gives herself airs of astounding importance whenever she is among her girl friends who are still in a state of spinsterhood. She is, how- ever, not so bad with men and other mar- ried women, and, anyhow, her self-satis- faction wears off after a few years. ‘A peacock,” said another. “A pretty woman in a new gown.” “A man with a tremendously long beard.” The Real Answer. “A handsome mai and the genius who made the last guess was the one who, it was agreed, had struck the nail on the head, for no one was able to think of any- thing that is fonder of itself than this species of human being. Of course, the man must not be one of the negatively handsome kind, but a man that is known everywhere as handsome, that does not ex; pect anyone ever to dispute it, that hardly has any other profession in life than being handsome, that after he dies is remember- ed or spoken of generation after genera- tion as “the handsome man.” There can be no doubt that there are not nowadays as many of these professional beauties among men as there used to be, but we still find them. The only trouble is that people are becoming so careless now that they often require to be told that a man ‘e very handsome or they would not notice L “Why did you reject him?” asked a girl of a friend who was just over a love af- fair. “Oh, I didn’t want him, but isn't he a beauty?" Here is a roughly drawn picture of this beauty. He is just this side of six feet in height, and his figure is excellent. He {s al- ways dressed perfectly; in fact, that it is plain that he gives a great deal of his thoughts to his clothes. He has the dearest of brown mustaches, curling away from the centét of his upper lip and showing a little spot of red and setting of the beauty of his smile. His nose is not large, but it is lightly of the Roman pat- tern; his eyes are soft and lustrous as a woman's, his complexion is ruddy and his hair is soft and has a tendency to curl. His voice is musical and gentle. This beauty quite adored by elderly ladies and by is girls who are themselves not very attractive,and to schoolgirls who see him on the street he is @ sort of idol. They worship him in secret and write his name on their slates when they ought to be doing their sums. Later in life they meet him with some trepi- dation, but after a few minutes’ conversa- tion their idol is smashed. Yet, as this ‘oung fellow is not a universally recognized uty, he is really popular with men, for men of this kind are nearly always amiable and, as a consequence, are good company. Ugly men, on the other hand, are apt to have strongly marked characters ant are subject to fits of ill-nature. They are not, for the ordinary passing acquaintance of life, nearly as good companions as the men who are known as handsome men. Of course, they are better friends, because they are more to be depended upon, and they are pleasanter companions for a long talk, for they know so much.?fore, but for the pass- ing chat the beauties are preferable, Beauty as Applied to Man. No man ever confessed that he would like to be beautiful, for that is a word that is commonly used tn admiration of the physi- cal perfection of women, but a great many men think they are handsome, and others would give a good deal if they could honest- ly believe that they were, The general term beauty, however, can be applied to men as well as to anything else. It must mean, however, something manly, something, in fact, not delicate. In ancient time a beauti- ful man was a brave one, and the two words meant the same thing, for bravery was the quality men were proudest of pos- sessing, and, of course, the women wor- shiped it, too, But when the beauty of a man meant his personal appearance it ap- plied to fine proportions and strength. Thus one old Frenchman gives an exaggerated illustration of this meaning by saying that it would be hard to say of an elephant that he is pretty, yet he is undoubtedly beautiful. 80 is, if fine proportions and strength make beauty; but, at the present 7, @ man would hardly like to have the attract- iveness of his looks judged collossal standard. An English writer, in 1642, wishing to praise his prince as much as possible, spoke of him as “one of the beautifullest men in the world;” praise that ® prince of the nineteenth century would hardly relish; yet it was intended simply to mgan that he was a brilliantly handsome man. It is then a modern idea that if a man ts called beautiful it takes away some of his manly characteristics. ns 1 next hard- est thing to say would be to call him pretty —that is, an effeminaté sort of fellow, whom ‘women don’t care any’ about and whom men lat or a’ Le shouldn’t men be pretty? Why Yet wi should there be a prejudice against rosy cheeks, with dimples, perhaps, laughing blue eyes and a ae, Uttle mouth, if they be- it is really a idea that what is beautiful in a woman should be the last thing desirable in a man. Yet such is undoubtedly the éase. A Girl and Her Fiance. certain young girl had been away from her home for a few months and had spent part of the time in Washington. While here she had become engaged. She return- ed home and told her best friend about it, but it was noticed that she spoke of her flance not only with the proper degree of enthusiasm, but with some degree of cau- tion as well. She certainly seemed to pos- sess a full extent of property in him, but any expressions of familiarity were wantin, when she praised him, Finally, she shows his photograph to her friend. The latter looked at it for a long time, then drew a long breath and said nothing. “But what do you think of him?” said the engaged girl. “Is he not handsome?” “Can't say he is,” said her friend. “Oh, dear me, I know he isn’t, but what 4@o you think of his looks?” “Well, he looks like an important man. I should say, dear, that I would never think of him except as Mr. ——. I would not call him Bobby, even behind his back. I think he will probably be the head of the household after you are married, and 1 have no doubt you will get married, for I don’t believe he would have proposed unless he really wanted you, and you would not dare to jilt a man like that.” Here was a man who evidently made an impression on the gentle sex. He had a big forehead, deep eyes that looked rather seri- ous, a large jaw, a wretched little scraggy mustache, which failed entirely to hide his mouth, which was wide and closely com- ressed. His nose wa: straight but big. is hair evidently had a will of its own, for it was rough and grew in every direction. You would pronounce this man anywhere to be emphatically an ugly fellow. Yet the girl who was engaged to him was known to have refused, in her tima a half a dozen A HANDSOME MAN! men at least, all of whom were eligible matches. The truth of the matter is that the so-called handsome man is not usually the most popular one with the fair sex. To Tame the Untamable. For one thing many women like to be intimidated a little, and when they have captured one of these fellows who is usually supposed to be untamable they are correspondingly proud. Who cares par- ticularly to teach a poodle tricks? Any one can do it who is willing to take the trouble, but to trair a lion is a task that a great many people would like to undertake if they were not afraid. It is very much the same way with men. Your susceptible good-looking men’ are not worth the trouble of catching. They stand ready and anxious to be caught, but the fellow who is not good looking, and who doesn’t care a rap about his looks, and who, moreover, is fully convinced that no woman ever will or ever can catch him is the one that it requires nerve and talent to bring to your beck and call. . All of this is doubtless food for agreeable reflection to many of the masculine readers of The Star, but it is emphatically true. There are, undoubtedly, a great many handsome men who are great ladies’ men and who are much petted by the ladies, too, but the fellows who have the hardest time to keep from getting married, whether they will or not, are not usually handsome men. You may say, too, that the worst flirts amoag men are often ugly men. There was once one in a northern city who had a reputation in this line that actually ex- tended to all the social circles of the world. It got so bad finally that he had to flirt, for no woman would ever believe a word he and there was no use in his mean! it under the circumstances. Well, this man was a big-nosed, small-eyed, ill-favored man, and no man or woman ever dared to call him handsome. Good-Looking Couples Rare. A good-looking couple is a fine sight, but how often do you see it? There was that beautiful Miss Blank—how on earth did she manage to unite herself with such a hideous fellow as Mr. Dash? Yet there they are safely married, and she seems devoted to him. Then there is Charlie Adonis, the handsomest man in town—he goes off and marries a particularly plain girl. Why don't handsome peopie attract one another? There seems to be a law of nature against it, just as it is said that in museums the living skeleton always falls in love with the fat woman, and the dwarf wants to marry the giantess. Of course, there are notable exceptions, and two beauties do sometimes get married, but it is seldom that such is the case. If you inquire what it is that a pretty woman takes the most care of you will probably find it is her complexion. With a@ handsome man the thing that he cares for most is apt to be his mustache. He nurses it, twirls it so that it may grow in a certain way, and can hardly keep his hands away from it a half hour at a time. He does not like you to allude to it, save reverently, and every one recalls the story of the man who broke off his engagement to a girl because she asked him to shave off his mustache. He could get along with- out a wife, but without a mustache, never! —>—_—_ WHEN A GIRL VISITS. Some of the Articles That id Go in the Tronk. When you are packing your trunk try and put in it everything that you will need, so that you will not have to borrow from your hostess, writes Ruth Ashmore in a timely article on “The Girl Who Goes A- visiting” in the May Ladies’ Home Journal. You will require the silk or cotton match- ing your gowns, your needles, scissors and thimble, and if you are an adept at artistic needlework I would suggest your doing a pretty piece while you are away—one that may be left as a souventr of your visit with | your hostess. You must have with you your own brushes, your letter paper and pens, and when you open your trunk you must put your things in their proper places, giving them the same care which you would if you were going to be in the house @ year instead of a week. Besides your clothes, there must be some virtues packed in your trunk, virtues that you will take out and use all the time. One is considera- tion. You will find that a visitor well equipped with this will be much liked. Another is punctuality, that virtue of kings. And still Another is neatness, a Gainty littie virtue specially adapted to Young women. ——o+___ Making Others Enjoy Themselves. From Harper's Bazar. This faculty of making others enjoy them- selves is really a gift; but it may also, in a high degree, be made an accomplishment, and it depends largely on good nature and genuine good feeling—the counterfeit never passes. Every one loves to be happy, and happiness is contagious; and every one loves to be happy with a clear conscience, and the good nature that takes no advan- tage, that makes no and that amuses with no ‘unkind drellery, is an ex- cellent foundation for the attainment of this accomplishment, E girl, then, should begin early to cultivate any faculty for Groliery she may without conde- scending to satire and unkindness. If she indulges in these, those around her may find her amusing, and may laugh with her for the moment, but she may be sure that after all they will leave her with a bad taste in the mouth, so to say, and long after they have forgotten the pleasurable laugh they will remember the sting of the words, and in the end the whole business will react upon herself. it will presently come to be understood that it is not all an amiable nature that finds and makes amusement by ing the wits on the foibles and frailties of oth- ers, that tears this one’s dress and that one’s a ie ose ig makes them, unconscious and unguarded, the th its sallies, that has no mercy, ane oo ons as the laugh rises, cares not on what wounds the lash falls. It is the same qual- ity carried to a savage power that makes the red Indian women delight in the torture of the victim and laugh at his writhing en- deavor to hide pain. And the owner of such @ nature will have no permanent success, will in the long run find admiration turning into wonder and dislike, and will eventually make its own unhappin: not only love and friendship, but becoming a cok to itself. ‘ ————_»> The Pinzza. a Harper's Bazar. here are numberless simple ways of adding to the comforts of the piazza, chief among which are suitable screens to modi- fy the light, and the most durable as well &s artistic of these are the bamboo shades, which sell from $1 up, and which are easily adjusted, as they work upon pulleys. Home-made ones of awning cloth fastened ee rollers, such as are used in shop dows, if put up with suitable fixtui will also be found convenient, as they — be raised or lowered at will, and are less heavy than those of bamboo. For the fur- nishings one or more cee rgd cotton rugs will be found useful, and of course a ham- mock or two, with air pillows and a pretty knitted blanket, are indispensable. A rat- tan sofa and a good-sized center table, if space will permit, will be a great conven- ae wera rote! A gored sory ions all serve 0 out-door living. Wooden boxes filled with growing panes ‘and vines set upon the railings are a pleas- ps addition, and it is said they help to eep away insects; and palms and cut flowers all help to give the effect of a sum- mer drawing room. It is becoming quite the custom to have these pleasant out-door rooms glazed in winter, and to continue the life in the sunshine begun in warm weather. Afternoon tea is served here as in summer. Many city residents condemned to a sum- mer in town fit up a space on the house- top, where the hot evenings are spent in great comfort. The chief expense of such an arrangement is the awning, which is mecessary on account of the dampness. It must be securely fastened and made ad- jvetable, so that it can be quickly rolled up in case of storm, and the few rugs and folding chairs necessary can be kept in a large box or chest, which has been made water-proof. ———+e- . Points About Pins. From the Ladies’ Home Journal. Thorns were originally used in fastening garments together. Pins did not immedi- ately succeed thorns as fasteners, but dif- ferent appliances were used, such as hooks, buckles and laces. It was the latter half of the fifteenth century before pins were used in Great Britain. When first mann- factured in England the iron wire,of proper length, was filed to a point, and the other extremity twisted into a head. This was slow process, and four or five hundred » was a good day’s work for an expert ha‘ The United States has the credit of inven ing the first machine for making pins. This was in 1824. The inventor was one Lemuel Wellman Wright. Jimson—“I don’t envy Speaker Crisp his seat.” ‘Weed—“Nor I Tom Reed must be a mighty uncomfortable cushion.” IN A DAINTY ROOM Pratty Effects Secured at Little Cost. INGENUITY WITHOUT MONEY How a High School Girl Made Her Bedroom Charming. WITH PRETTY SURROUNDINGS Written for the Evening Star. SAW A ROOM THB between the mantel and the window, and large pink fan above it formed a pleasing background for a brown and gold Japanese box, a tall pink flagon and a Japanese tete- a-tete set. For a scarf on the chiffonier a towel with a pink borger was used. On the | other side of the mantcl a book diagonally, cut off the squat short curtain of pink and hung from the second shelf. a large glass ot |feathers, a waiter with | Poses (a family relic) and a little gray jug, while a silver and pink €d on one corner of the book case the long lines. | table with brown felt cover served as a |desk. Above it on a shelf a pink and white pitcher held grasses. The chairs were vp- | holstered with cretonne, and an ari square jin tones of green and brown covered the How It Was Done. “A more unpromising subject than this Jow-cellinged, back building room, with its The Bookcase. Painted {t in oils, well thinned with tun pentine. The mantel was an eyesore A handy man built the over mantel of the extra bookcase shelves and set the tiles, the question; really very comfortable. “I like my study corner the best of all.” said my friend, who is a High “The table has two drawers f t lamp, ts very cozy. “There is one thing that puzzles me,” I said. “Where is that necessary piece of furnjture—a bed? I have looked in vain for anything that even suggests one.” Laugh- & way to get the wash-stand and den from view. My handy m: screen frame for 50 cents. The covering— light brown cretonne, with a scattered de- sign of pink rose®—cost 15 cents a yard, and harmonizes with the rest of the room. The effect was so good that I covered the chairs with it, too.” As I walked home 1 thought how effect- ively these same ideas could be out in different schemes of color. For instance, plain fawn side walis, witn light purple and green introduced into the frieze, brightened with a few touches of gold; or a medium ae of terra cotta, with dark blue and per frieze, if light colors are not de- sire. If one is not dexterous in the use of a brush, very good borders can be bought as low as 15 cents a yard. In these days, when soft colorings and good designs are found in the cheap cotton stuffs, there is no excuse for the use gaudy plushes end raw-hued reps, &c., which are particularly out of place in the ‘or ornaments, one cannot attain es or Dresjen, do not fill your room | with 49-cent val Worcester, coarsely shaped and decorated glass vases and other |bargain counter horrors. At the Japanese ert stores plates and jugs really good in color and design may be bought for a small sum, or some of the many attractive jugs and pots in which mustards and jams now come can be used, having the merit of be- ing true in form and pleasing in color and decoration, especially these of German and English manufacture. Thin or gray hair and bald beads, so displen people many a8 marks of age, may be avert ‘Repewee, to for using Hall's Mair