Evening Star Newspaper, May 12, 1894, Page 18

Writtem Exclusively for The Evening Stan RE YOU GOING TO be tailor made or modiste gowned this ‘ummer?” That was the rather startling question I heard one young lady ask an- other recently, and exigencies of the case were such that it was impossible for me to stand around and find the solution of the problem thus presented, The ques- an odd one, but there it beyond the average ideas of gowning. I think that it was Meredith who said that the world was too big and the age too complex for “one man alone to embody its purpose and hold it close shut in the palm of his hand.” He also said, with equal force of expression, that: *He who seeks one thing in life, and but one, May hope to achieve it before life be done. But he who seeks all things wherever he tion was certainly Bre possibilities in goes Only reaps from the hopes which earound him he sows, A harvest of barren regrets. Now, you know those young ladies are ‘working out the practical suggestions made ta Mr Meredith’s poem. They don’t pro- pose to scatter their efforts. They are go- ing to be one kind of @ girl or another, and by concentrating on a certain line of ac- tion are going to come out winners, each in her own field. And why not? If one’s talent lies in being a trim, stylish, tailor- made miss, with a rather mannish swing , nd & suspicious Mking for horses, and dogs, man stories that are not too bed you know—why not indulge one’s forall these and dress one’s part, just ps the swell gambler does hig, in loud Srousers and a short sack coat, with its two rows of buttons? The spec- effect is everything nowadays, and ,@eenlo accompaniments are expected with the modern improvements, else the play pronounced “no good/t The Modiste’s Girl, On the other hand, the modiste’s girl is $ one of the shrieking, swooning Naa wad past he uate ond oon nite its tongue out, and would probably faint if ® horse were to put its nose familiarly on her shoulder, For the one girl, the plain elegant cloth gown, with its neat stitching, strapped seams, mflitary collar, and ex- quisite fit, seems eminently propen, While for the other who probably lolls around in a hammock or cuddles down on the grass un- der the trees, and goes into ecstacies over flowers, herself the fairest flower among them, the fluffy, floating,mist-like organdies, lawns and shimmering summer silks are purposely made. And it would be an awful mistake to put the wrong clothes on the Fight girl. The tailor-made gir] will be as much in evidence this summer as ever, She changes her style just a little each season, but you know her the minute you set eyes on her. Clothes do make a change in one’s manners, and there is no mistake about it, In a tatlor-made dress one feels so at peace with the world, because there is nothing to get out of place about one’s clothes. e hair 4s evenly parted and put back with just Semi Tailor-Made. @euspicion of wave in the close lying bands, ‘Bnd coiled or knotted just at the middle of Whe back of the head. Flying locks on a tailor-made girl would be as much out of lace as a red necktie with a dress suit. hen, of course, the linen must be im- maculate, and the tle “hand made,” and as ty as the wearer. The skirts are al- ‘ways short enough to escape the ground, and there is no dust kicking against the Spick and span trousers of the man who fs walking with her. It is awfully trying to @ man to have «nybody throw dust on his few, trousers. Then there ie her jacket— ve you paid any attention to the latest importation of styles? They are the most fetching things yet. And the hat! That accentuates the whole thing. It is as trig as a yacht under full sail. So is the girl, for that matter. She fascinates you and you can’t help yourself. I think one Yeason why the tailor-made girl is so at- tractive is use her ideas are as sensible as her dress. Then anybody knows, who Knows anything at all about a woman's dress, that a tailor-made girl is wholesome as she looks, for, if not, she could not be tailor-made. The ‘woman who is not as neat as a new pin does not elect to wear a tailor-made gown. One of these altogether charming dresses has just been completed for a young woman who will wear it on a good many pleasure trips this summer. It is so very stylish that {t is worthy of reproduction. It is of | year. the favorite black and white. The dress that can be worn at any function imagin- able. The skirt is black = as fine as sil, and is about four y: around the bottom; unlined, of course. At the foot are | two two-inch-wide bands of white broad- cloth, put on with a black satin cord on each The long Prince Albert coat is of serge, lined with thin India silk. The wide revers are bordered with bands of white broadcloth, also corded with white satin. The waistcoat is white broadcloth fastened The Revised Eton. up the middie with white pearl buttons, and the same decorate the coat front. The gloves are white suede. White broad- cloth tailor-made dresses will favorites this summer for seaside wear. Miss Letitia Scott, the namesake of her aunt, Mrs. Stevenson, has a white broad- cloth gown, strictly tailor-made, in which she presents a remarkably stylish appear- ance, and it is by all odds the most elegant gow’ of its kind in W: ington. A modiste told me the other day that she had orders for three white broadcloth tailor-made its, which are to be lined with white silk, and stitched with the same. It takes a pow fine figure to bear off white broad- A semi-made tailor girl is, perhaps, a novelty; but a lady whom I met recently described her new gown as a semi-tailor af- fair! She explainéd that she was so angu- lar and so large of stature that when she donned the regular-made tailor gown she looked like a grenadier, and so had to com- promise on one with the effects, but less severe in its outlines. She chose a dark | brown cheviot, with a ruffle of bengaline of the same shade, put on in overskirt fash- jon, and the sleeves are of the same. The revers are of a deep tan cuffs. The high military collar is of the light, braided with dark silk braid. The picturesque hat is in two shades of brown straw, with brown moire ribbon and mignonette garniture. The Eton girl still flourishes, but she has changed her style a little. If one had a di- vinely fashioned form and one’s dressmaker didn’t make a mistake and scoop the dear little jacket up a thought too much in the back,making one’s shoulders look hough they were deformed, the Eton was a very pretty vagary. But most of us are not per- fect in figure, and most dressmakers did make the mistake mentioned, so it spoiled the effect of the jacket very largely, and this season the thing has to come about one inch below the waist line to conform to fashion. It makes a mighty pretty suit when it is put on right. The checked vest— waistcoat is the English of it, you know— is —_ breasted, with two rows of but- tons, the unlined skirt has not a sign of trimming on it, not even stitching. It has the hem turned up and glued down to @ rubber business, such as the tailors fasten ip the hems of men’s trousers with, and of ere ig no stitching to be seen. I do t we are not on the verge of turn- the tails of our dresses in our mad to copy the English dudes! perfectly bewitching street gown wa: warm days last week by a young must have known that she made of herself, but she was not in the self-conscious. It was light green In- dia silk, with a wavy thread of a very dark green running in a crazy fashion all over it, The blouse waist was gathered at the neck and at the waist line, where it was held under a belt of light green watered ; ay SF re The big hat was of light green fancy straw, and had one white and one dark green curl- ing tip waving like banners as the pretty young woman walked up the avenue. She made one think that summer is here sure enough. The sunshine of her face ought to make summer wherever she is, though, for it was not her dress alone made every- body leok at her. A dainty thought for a summer wool dress is embodied in an overskirted affair that will be worn at Old Point Comfort very soon. It is what is called “Valkyrie pink,” and is a lot prettier than the name. The material 1s crepon, and it is made quite full in the back, the overskirt lifting on the side to show a pink moire underskirt. The overskirt is edged with cream Vandyked lace, and the plait is fastened down with pink moire bows. The double-breasted bodice {s outlined with cream insertion, and a wide bertha of Vandyke lace falls over full-puffed crepon sleeves, the lower part of which are of Valkyrie pink moire, with cuffs of lace. The hat ts pink crepe and white moire and cream lace. If you want to be strictly “in the swim” regarding fashion, have some bows and a buckle or two, no matter whether there is any logical place to put them or not: there is no logic about fashion, anyhow. You can wear the buckles at your throat, on your hat and bonnets, at your belt, catch up your overskirt with them, put them on your slippers and buckle your sleeves together with them if you ike. As for bows, they nestle everywhere. They must be large, and they must be artistic: having observed these two rules you can wear them where you please. There is no frenzy that you may not give expression to in their em- ployment, if you are so minded. Lace ts to be found on everything. This was to be expected after seeing it on seal garments last winter. From the crown of the head to the instep of your stockings you may use lace, and it gets cheaper and prettier every BELL BALL, be great | Poem tan and she has | THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1894—-TWENTY. PAGES. OF BYGONE DAYS The Girls Discover an Old Autograph Album. SENORA SARA AND THE WRITERS Some Individual Histories Briefly but Graphically Traced. STRANGE CHANGES OCCUR Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. KNEW THERE would be trouble in the choir when I was so indiscreet as to tell the girls about Katharine’s memory album, but I thought the idea so pretty that they ought to know about it. I was not, however, pre- pared for the energy with which they en- tered into a search for scraps of their cast-off clothes, despite my intimate ac- quaintance with their idiosyncrasies, but I did my best to help them out by arranging the “find: them. Dorothy was bewailing the fact that we thought so little of her entrance into this vale of tears that we saved none of her baby things, when I suddenly remem- bered that in an old-time trunk up in the attic there were some of her first clothes. The sever of them went off upstairs to rake a raid on the trunk, and, thinking that I was rid of them for an hour or two, I settled myself to cut the leaves of my new magazine. I had just got myself com- fortably fixed when I heard shrieks of laughter and the clatter of boot-heels on the stairs. I jerked myself upright with a groan, for I knew that the racket por- tended ill for my hour of rest. An Autograph Album, “Oh, Sara, Sara, guess what we have found!” I heard in Jennie’s shrill treble. If 1 had had the training of that girl I would have taught her how to use her voice without splitting the air, or known a good reason why! It is simply excruciating to listen to her when she is excited. Just be- fore the mob got to my door, which was standing wide open, I heard Dorothy cau- tion the girls not to say too much, or “Sara would shut up like a clam," and they ‘would not be able to get anything out of her. Now, was that a pretty remark for one sister to make about another? I was just on the point of calling to them to stay out —for I was really exasperated beyond all endurance with them—when they came stealing in like a lot of Indians stalking a deer, and Elaine slipped up and dropped something in my lap; then sprang back as though she might have been on a spring- board. Then the seven of them went off in shrieks of laughter—girls are such geese! Now, what do you suppose was the cause of ail this unseemly mirth? Only my old autograph album! Dorothy says that I turned paie when I recognized it; and 1 don’t doubt that I did; for it is many a long year singe 1 thought about it even, | and a great deal longer time since I saw it. Emboldened because I did not explode, as she termed it, Nora opened the subject by dropping on the floor and putting her el- bows on my knees. “Please, Sara, we never saw one like it in our lives before, and we are so interested. Tell us all about it; did you collect the autographs for thelr oddity or did the writers think those sentiment: And then she quit, because her voice was too fu'l of laugh to trust it. “You will be good, you dear old thing, wrote—' “Dear Sara: “The rose is red, the violet’s blue, Sugar is sweet, and so are you. “Ever thine, was the unceremonious way that Mary broke in or Bobble, reciting the doggerel in a sing song that was irresistibly funny. “Or this,” said Elaine, before 1 could get John." > wh her nose: earest One: 1y pen is poor, my ink is pall, But my love for you will never fale. “James Madison.’ " Not Like Those of Today. Laugh! Of course I laughed. Who could help it? Beside, they had me entirely at thei> mercy, and the only wise thing to do was to capitulate. I could not feel anger with my fingers closing on that book. queer rhymes and bad spelling, its trite couplets and sorry metaphors, could make the girls merry, and, as I turned the yellow leaves, I did not wonder at it, but I could not laugh quite as they did. Neither could you, if your youth were staring you in the face, and counting the gray hairs on your head, and the wrinkles around your eyes. The autograph albums of today are not like those used in my young days, and people do not write as they once did. Now all col- lectors care for is to get the names of noted people. Then we only wanted the kindly intentioned thoughts of our friends in our autograph albums. The little book that Elaine tossed in my lap was fantastically decorated with flowers and Cupids, and true lovers’ knots in colors, and the world’s champion expert couldn't classify the chi- Tography that was spread over the time- stained pages. From the covers came that odd closeted odor that Russia leather takes undisturbed, and, as the leaves fell apart, some pressed flowers shattered down in my lay Vho ig it says that it is well some Dp. times “from the dead past the grave-stone to move of the years long departed for- ever,” just to look in on the dear bygone days, and make sure that we do not re- et them? I don't believe that the poet new much about it. We may love the present, but there are very few who can look into the past with no desire to live again some of its happy hours. I had for- gotten “my” girls, so busy was I with the bevy that the book called to mind, until Nora laid her warm little hand on mine. “We did not mean to pain you, Sara,” she said gently. “We found so many queer things in it, and thought it would be such fun to have you tell us about some of your old sweethearts, there seemed to be a lot of such ardent ones. Let me take the al- bum back. It was thoughtless of us, I am sure.” I felt ashamed of myself for mooning over the old book like a girl of sixteen, so I said i would tell them about the people who made the album precious to me. Histories of the Writers Traced. “Begin on the very first page, then,” she said in a relieved tone. “This is pretty writing; what a dainty, fine hand women affected then, Sara.” And she read the dedication poem, which was full of lofty sentiment, and ended with the lines which have been written in every autograph al- bum that I have ever seen, I think: “Our lives are albums written through With good or fll, with false or true; And as the blessed angels read the pages of our years, God grant they read the good with smiles And blot the bad with tears.” “I wonder what was written in the book of her life?” mused Nora, as she turned the leaf. “Do you think her actions may have been as lofty as her ideals?” It was with pleasure that I assured them that my friend had uttered her true senti- ments; for her whole life, which was un- fortunately short, was filled with generous deeds. She was one of the workers in for- eign mission fields and was buried under alien skies. On the next page was another high-sounding, sentimental verse, but the contrast was great in the outcome. ‘That girl friend married a “high-minded” youth, who was posing for fame in the ministry. Four children came before fame did. He finally persuaded his wife that her Chris- tian duty called upon her to put the chil- dren ina “home” and go with him into foreign mission fields also. So the four little innocents were shoved off into a mission home to grow up without a moth- er’s care, while she and their father went mooning off after fame, spending the little property that ought to have been left to the abandoned children, It may be that the Lord requires that kind of service, but I don’t believe it. The wife died, the children were scattered among strangers and the “high minded,” with his second wife, enjoys the profits of my classmate’s sacrifice. 1 “Ob, giris! Just listen to this, will you?” they made in their books for | and tell us something about the people who | my breath, and she declaimed tragically | its | on when it has lain fo> an indefinite period | and Nore read with much declamatory en- ergy from the next leaf, so wreathed with flowers and scrolls that it was hard to Gecipher the faded writing: “My hand is lonely for your clasping, dear; My ear is tired waiting for your call. I a your strength to help, your laugh cheer; bape Ss soul and senses need you, one and I droop without your full, frank sympathy. We ought to be together, you and I.” “Now, whatever do you think of that?” she asked, mischievously. “Sara, you @ good bit of a fraud, you are. There three distinct declarations, and we have Not got started. It is awful! And to think of the way you have lectured us girl it letting the men make love to us.” Her First Lover. Of course, I had to acknowledge the corn, and it did not make it any better to tell them that this youth was my first lover. It would have destroyed the illusion, however, if I had told them that he forgot all about me in less than a year, and that after three matrimonial adventures he now lives with number four, a Mexican, and has a brood of dusky children. His ear grew tired wait- ing for my call several times, it would seem, and they do say that his wife's call is even less heeded since he got his fingers on her fortune—one of those fabulous “land grants” of the Spanish America, That shows how much faith one can pin to the average man! While I was musing over this, not sadly, if you please, but gladly, Nora found another rhyme, which greatly disturbed the risibles of the seven who read it to me, individually and collectively, with all the embellishments: “True frends are few, Frendship is usualy frale, But i beleive 1 have found in you A frend who will never fale!” Truely Thine, ALPHONSE. They were so busy with their jests that they did not see the pin that was rusted in the page, and I smiled a little sadly as I} saw that the blue belis it once pinned there were brown dust between the leaves, and| | only the impression of the delicate blossoms | like a shadow over the wretchedly spell- sentiment. The girls would hardly be- | let me tell you that, ONE TYPE OF GIRL The Scarlet Poppy in the Field of Wheat. UP-TO-DATE GIRLS EAS? AND WEST Caramels and Soda, Slang and Cigarettes the Fads. THEN THE MODERN GIRL —_——_.-___—. Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. " "VE BEEN SOME two years now study- ing the genus “girl up to date.” You may think that two years is @ good while to devote to a single subject, but try the “up-to-date” girl and see if you can know her in less time. Ap- plied mathematics, to use her own expres. sion, is not “in it’ with her. I didn’t admire her at all when I began, but I find her to be a cultivated taste—like olives. She is an inspiring subject, the further | you go into the labyrinth of her mind and life the more interesting you find her. But whereas I spent a year and a half in the far east trying to | lleve me when I told them that the writer | of those lines is at the present time a suc- | cessful teacher of modern languages. | the opposite page the “yours truly” and dashing signature of a hero who won his stars at Donelson spoke much to me, but | did not attract Nora's bright eyes. Over | the leaf she paused to spell out a printed | Verse. The rudely formed letters were made by a little fair-haired girl, one of my child- ish friends, who worked for hours to print | the verse she had found on a Sunday school | card: “There's not a flock, However watched and tended, But one dead lamb is there. There's not a household, | Howso’er defended, | But has one vacant chair.” | “What a queer sentiment for an auto- graph,” sald Nora, questioningly. And then I told them about the cheery little chiid,wno Was so dear to me and the light of her old grandmother's heart in those far away years. It is long since I was there, but in the ould farm house her chair still ad close to her grandmother's, in the corner by the great fireplace, and the grandmother sat there in the sunshine knitting. Some- times she would pause and reach out her trembling, withered hand to touch the little old-fashioned rocker, as though to smooth the golden head that used to rest there Then, with a disappointed look on her fs she would murmur: “The child is long away.” Aye, long indeed! ‘Time is not meas- | ured in eternity. | A Son of the South. | here were several pages of “you | trulys” and “most sincerelys,” with signa- | tures of some who have achieved much, and of others who strove for nothing and got a great deal of it. These did not interest t girls in the least, however. Finally they came to one autograph that was written in Spanish, in beautifully rounded letters, and Bobbie said she felt very sure that there was some character back of the firmly writ- ten words. “En este mundo nada _es pe! fecto solo Dios y despues de, el Todo Vanidad y deshonestidad,” she read slowly “Tell us about this dark-skinned son of the south who signs himself Pedro Guar Alamagan,” she demanded. I was not slow to accede to that request, for the integricy of the youth and the worth of the man he grew to be has always been a favoriie theme with me. The boy who wrote the lines was an engine wiper! He had, so said, royal blood in his veins, and plenty of the old Castilian pride, but it was of the honorable kind, and when the family for- tunes fled during one of the great national | panics, Pedro made up his mind, much to | the distress of his patrician mother and dis gust of his snobbish father, that he wou be an engineer, to which honorable calli there is no royal road. He had to begin at the bottom. Family prejudice, pride oi birth and blooded ancestry were no he him there, but he helped himself rigt straight up to the top. He bought bach the ancestral home, and is today the kingliest representative of his whole race, in my opinion. That autograph has a great big moral, though Pedro neither expected to point a moral nor adorn a tale when he scrubbed his hands free of engine grease to pen it. “T belleve in my soul that Sara would find a moral in a comic opera,” said Jennie, | sotto voice, as they all bent again above the old album. “Here's a long one, but T can’t make out nything but the ‘My beloved sister.’ M ara, what did you do to them to grapple | them to you with hoops of steel. When I tell a man I'll be a sister to him, he flees! | | Come, elucidate;” and Elaine put the album | |in my hands. It took me some time to de-| | cipher the faded characters, for they were written with a lead pencil, but I had a/ | good laugh at the discomfitted girls when they found out that the writer was far from being a lover, but was, in fact, a man | whom I always distrusted, though he was ja divinity student. The sprawling hand- writing had a sermon; but the writer had to leave college “for the good of the service,” and a few years later I found among the headlines in a western newspaper a lurid | picture of his demise, with his boots on, all | on account of appropriating some mavericks which a brother cow puncher claimed. A Chance to Point a Moral. | “What queer writing this is!” exclaimed | | Nora, as she bent over the next page. “It | looks as straight up and down and as square as though it had been measured with a plummet and level. And—O—o! Girls! just look at this, will you! The name signed to it is the same one that was mentioned as leading the Coxey contingent out of San Francisco. Isn't it awful? Who would have suspected Sara of being in league with revolutionists. Yet he told her ever and| ever sO many years ago just what to ex- pect. Just listen to this! “It Ig not ours to judge, far less con- demn; the hour must come when such! things shall be made known to all, and when | it shall arrive, as 1s our trust, "twill be to be forgiven, or to suffer what {is just. This 1s what Byron says, and I have faith in his idea of the everlasting ethics!’ The girls all looked at me very severely, and I had to acknowledge that the men were the same. It gave me a fine chance to point another moral, too. There was a man who a quarter of a century ago stood high up in military life, and was an acknowl- edged authority on scientific subjects; a man | of culture and character, well known in Washington's highest official circles. Yet he was visionary and got “wheels” in his head. He wanted things “equalized;" in fact, he determined to equalize them’ himself.’ So | he neglected his own business and began to| write remarkable papers on how other peo- | ple should conduct theirs. All his education | and his culture could not save him from disaster, wren he would not help himself. It may be he is suffering “what is just,” considering his persistent efforts to make himself a martyr, but I must confess it gave me a heart pang to see one of his | high name so lowered. The girls were called away just then, and left me alone with the album, and my thoughts. leaves slowly, and many were the ghosts that greeted me. Through tears I read the pretty sentiment of a lovely friend, who ern windows. On the next page, beside two aged grandmothers, admonished in sweet scriptural quotations, the grandchild whom they loved so well. Following on the next page was the pretty, graceful writing of my mother, and below it the heavier hand of my father. And so I found them, one after another; schoolboys and schoolgirls mostly, with here and there the impress of friends of later years. Gay, lilting lines, they had written in my album, and then gone out of my life as I went out of theirs. Only a few of them have made a mark in the world. One has written a tale that is talked On! discover her traits and made but little progress, I have found her out in less than six months’ experience in the “wooly west.” Do not understand me that che does not exist east of the Mississippl, for she does, very much so, but she is neither sv well developed nor so profound a young person as I see her by the Golden Gate. This—in a few words—is the difference. It explains what, otherwise, pages might not | take clear: With you she is the “matinee | girl,” with us, the girl of night box parties and cafe suppers. She is a frivolous young person with you, and her idea of bliss is too much caramels. Our “fin-de-siecie” young lady eats tamales (a Mexican dish composed principally of red peppers) and Welsh rarebits, and will take beer in pref- erence to soda water every time. in the east she is petite and piquante, she walks with a wrenching movement which is considered very “fetching” in her set, and | she carries her hand on her hip in a way | that our grandmammas were taught was the exclusive prerogative of the farm hand. Her slang vocabulary is superb, and she spends all her leisure moments in adding to | it; any boy who will retall the latest thing in street arab conversation is dubbed a “perfe: lov and “just too cute.” She wanis you to know that she is “up to date; she makes it painfully evident and! thrusts the fact in your face at all hours. | She don’t believe in anything, and some & degree and places, mentally, everyone she meets with unfailing justice. The world and human nature are open books to her, but she is sadly apt to scorn the feminine Portion of humanity, except in so far as it may prove useful to her. To please men of all ages, she lays herself out, and succeeds, but if the world likes her, his wife does not count, nor his daughter, either. The girls are afraid of her, generally—she is too clever for them, and they know it. They have an uncomfortable fi that she is trying to wind them about her little finger, and they resent it. So she has al- most no girl friends—intimates, that is, and they put it on the ground that they disap- prove of her ideas. If she has a woman friend, it is some bold spirit who is quite able to cope with her and who is not afraid of her, who refuses to be stuck on a meta- Phorical pin and made to buzz like an im- paled bee, for the benefit of the “up-to- date” girl. I like the les, myself. It is the best of company, is filled with comical Stories—rather broad in outline—has odd views of life, and ideas that are unsurpass- ed for originality, but is like the food on which it subsists, too highly seasoned for the ordinary palate. In short, she is stimu- lating, but not healthful. Luckily for the world, this girl is rarely met with, and there are not enough like her to weigh in the balance against that nearly perfect type of womanhood, the modern girl. She is a scarlet poppy in a field of wheat, bril- Mant and a relief to the eye until it fades. But who would elect to choose the poppy forever and neglect the grain? No one; and the “up-to-date” girl knows it. —ee2—___ THE BABY’S SHOES. A Pretty Way to Make Them the Mother's Constant Companion. “The little half-worn shoes, stubby and shabby and old.” You have seen them on many & mother’s table close by where she is working, where she can look at them every hour of the day if she wishes; some- times her gaze seems to pass them and you know then that the small white feet that once filled those shoes have found flower-lined paths over the mountains in the valley called “Peace.” The presence of the little old things seems to bring a sad sort of comfort to sore hearts, and the wee wearer does not seem to be so far away; often the mother tries to cheat her- self into thinking that the restless feet are j only “in the other room” and the baby | will come clamoring soon for some favor | that will not be slighted off as such trou- | blesome little demands were wont to be | when the small shoes were new. There is such a pretty way to make these shoes one’s constant companion; both those of the baby that has gone away and those of that wonderful first baby that gets all the spoiling and the benefit of all the ignor- ance of young parents, who, of course, think that its like never before was known. There is hardly a home that was ever brightened by a baby that can’t produce a tiny first shoe, all doubled over and musty from being tied up with a bit of dainty linen shirt long, embro‘dered skirt and a scrap of lace cap. But there is no use in hidi and diminutive stockings, a | way she doesn’t know anything elther. You |them away thus. TI saw recently a unique |Mlustration of a young mother’s devotion to might think that she would be wotldly-|the memory of her frst born, Whose little wire to a dezree, from the class of her as- | life was cut short before the second birth- sociutes, but she is as innocent as the|day. The first button boots of the child boarding scnool miss is supposed to be. Her | Were made into a pincushion and jewel I turned the| died while life’s sun shone low in the east-| reading 1s not all that one might wish, but | Cesqand, were always in use on the moth- it is oniy of the “penny dreadful" and “shocker” order of Hterature, which does her no harm simply because she doesn’t fe- member it. othing really coarse comes in her line, because she has not the mental stomach to digest it. The food of her brain t be like the chief diet of her body ja water and sweets. This y. apt to and horse sort of w “just dying” y to get married, but she would prefer to elope and create a sensation. She lives on sensations; and yet she is a good little thing. If she were put in the right way she would go in for humane societies, hospital work and that sort of thing, with exactly the vim that is now wasted on slang. Her skirts are kept short so long as possible, because that makes her look lke “those sweet chorus girls,” whose pictures adorn the museum called by courtesy her “room.” Banjo playing and comic songs she does to perfection, with the added zest of a nasal twang rather charming than otherfise, and decidedly “the thing.” She has hosts of girl friends, quite as many a8 among the boys; which fs in {tself proof positive | that she is not clever. Most girls are afraid | of clever girls. If you get the eastern “up to date” girl on any subject deeper than cigarette cards she is completely at sea; and, reduce her vocabulary to the king's English, she will be, to all intents and purposes, a mute, Western Girl is Different. Now, the “up-to-date” girl in the west is quite another person, physically as well as mentally. She is very tall and stately; if not strictly handsome, at any rate she is very attractive, and she is most wonderfully careful never to be caught doing anything in the least unconventional, Unless you know her intimately you are apt to think that she is not only very dignified, but even very prudish. Her stately manners are quite overwhelming. But she knows her audience and is all things to all men. With those of a pious turn of mind she is piety itself, and she can discuss the pros and cons of the tenets of any faith, always with a leaning toward the ongest established faith, for outwardly she is ultra-conservative. She goes to church with the regularity of clock work, but as for inducing her small brother to accompany her, that is another thing. It is too inconvenient to save his soul. In Lent she gives up all things harmful to her com- plexion. Yet the frivolous find no one more frivolous, the cynical no one more cynical; no one can dance longer or better than she, and no old clubman can absorb so much champagne with a clear head. As for her gowns and hats, Paris is not more Parisian. It is not her greatest aim to dress well— that is merely an incident—but, like every- thing else she undertakes, it succeeds, She plans her own gowns, that they may not be exactly like every one’s else, and no one but she can put together such clashing colors to make harmony. She Is not given to reading. further than the novels that are the topic: of the times and those French confections which are recommended on account of their extra wickedness. To watch her dress is a thing never to weary of. It takes half an hour to curl her hair, and she does it with a red-hot iron. Every loose and straying hair is made into a dainty curl, and only an expert could tell that they are not natural. Her nails and hands are absorbing subjects, and she paints—dear! yes--but with a skill little short of art. I made a mental note of the cosmetics, &c., on her dresser the other day. There was a bottle of “white wash” (she calls it enamel), a bottle of rouge, dubbed by her young brother “chronic blush,” a box of lip salve, a stick of darker salve for the corners of her mouth, a stick of blacking for the corners of her eyes, a stick of Chinese ink for her lashes, a stain for the eyebrows, a box of face powder, a box of powder for her arms and neck, a bottle of finger-nail staining, another of acetic acid, a box of nail powder, and an imported box of henna for the finger-tips. Could any belle of the Roman empire hi beaten that? Yet when she ts all “made up” her skin looks quite natural, so s' fully is it done. She has to paint, she sures you, because she has no color—tight lacing and unholy hours have ruined what hittle she had—and she blacks her eyes be- cause if she does not she looks “tame.” Probably it will occur to you that she can- |not last long at that rate—that her skin | will be ruined, her hair burnt to a crisp and her constitution undermined in a very short | time. But that has no terrors for her. She knows that she is doomed to go with a | crash when she does go. It is just in this that she is “up-to-date.” She is living fast, and in the present only, spending all her principal, both monetary, physical and spir- itual, making hay while the sun shines. She {s the embodiment of the French phrase “fin-de-siecle. Bright as a Dollar. So much for one view of her. Mentally, about; another possessed the soul of a sing- er; and a wonderful piece of machinery bears the name of a third. Police courts tell the story of far too many. To tell the truth, it made me sorry and sad to read the j sentiments in the book, and I was glad when I turned the last page of it. The girls found {t rarely good comedy; I, who could read between the lines, saw only tragedy. brought it on myself? Of course; and after | all I do not regret it. If life were all cakes jand ale, the appetite would soon become jaded. We might see with clearer vision, perhaps, if we looked more often into futurity through retrospective glasses, SENORA SARA, the is most complicated. She has been to ‘the very best boarding and finishing schools, | but beyond the writing of a very “swagger” | note she has absolutely no “book learning.” What she did with her time besides smok- | ing cigarettes at night and smuggling for- | bidden novels into her room I am at a loss |to say. I believe a large part of it was spent tn casting sheep's eyes at the young man in the hotel across the street. She ad- mits it, quite fearlessly. But what she does | not know of life is simply not worth know- ing. The depth of her knowledge makes old women of the world gasp. She is shrewd to er’s dressing case. The shoe used for a pincushion was but- toned, and then stuffed with cotton until it was quite hard. Over the opening at the top a covering was made of a piece of one of the chi!ld’s dresses, and a quilling of rib- bon was put about the edge. The toe of the other shoe was stuffed back to the middle of the instep; then a piece of stiff paste- board was made round, so as to slip into the ankle of the shoe and hold it stiff. It was lined with silk, and from the top was an extension of the silk, with a draw- string; the edge of the shoe was finished with ribbon quilling, like the other. The noes had been red kid, and the mother had a kind of red varnish with which she col- cred them when they seemed to grow rusty. The two shoes were firmly gummed to the little china plate which the child had al- ways used, and the whole thing made a dainty memento of one so dearly loved. HOUSEHOLD HINTS Many Things of Interest to the Practical Matron. NEAT DISHES EASILY PREPARED Some Suggestions as to the Care of One's Person. SOCIAL REQUIREMENTS Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. The fools are not all dead yet! One o& them bobs up every little while and says to “put red pepper on the pantry shelves and around the edges of the carpets, and every red ant and cockroach will disappear!” They would for a fact! And it would be @ good thing to do if you want to get rid of your mother-in-law. It will also rid the house of your own presence. Such a rem- the same way, and it is healthy for the bu man throat and eyes. . A great many things have been suggested for covering pantry shelves, but there is nothing like clean, sweet-smelling newspa- pers. They are so plentiful easily renewed every few 1s no unpleasant odor about is abdut oilcloth. So! shelves is necessary, for dish will stick fast, and then spilled on a pine shelf will bad in a very short time | it up at once. . ; This is the season of the year when ew erybody is complaining of sore feet. It may be corns; it is often rheumatism; and,again, it is just @ soreness of the tissues. What- ever it is, it is disagreeable and often pain- ful. Quite often no remedy will reach the trouble, but some few will find that the fol- lowing will at least alleviate the @ measure: In the first place, wash the feet night and morning. Bathe them at night in water as hot as can be borne. If the shoes have been black, they can be renewed with shoe varnish; if they have been white, you can clean them with gaso- line, and any one handy with a needle can fix them up. ———-oeo—_____ SPRING CLEANING. The Time When Every Man's House is Not His le—Need It Be Thus? From the Lewiston Evening Journal, A famous lawyer said that “a man’s house is his castle,” but if there is one time more than another when a man feels he is not monarch of all he surveys surely it is during that annual upheaval which recurs with such relentless regularity—the spring cleaning! But is there any reason why spring cleaning should be the terrible bane that it is? It is because this enemy is such a very ancient one that it does not enter into one’s calculations to fight it. We have been trained from our youth up to look upon the yearly spring cleaning as a nec- essary evil. The mistake underlying the whole system, as a rule, is the endeavor to do too many things at once. Why should there be this tremendous upheaval of home life? Is there any logical reason why all the rooms in the house should present the same ghostlike surely the better plan. Of course, according to the size of the house and domestic staff, this rule must be varied to a couple or even three rooms at a time. The objection to this plan will doubtless be the length of time occupied before the whole is complete, but it would be found that the difference in the long run would not be so very great, while the amount of comfort gained would most out- weigh the few extra It is at this time of the year also that the methodical housekeeper takes a good look round her establishment to ascertain what articles of furniture require replacing, which rooms need new carpets, which car- pets must be remade for smaller rooms, ete. Now here is an excellent opportunity for @ woman to exercise her originality. Do not replace; alter. The variety gained by rearrangements is not only restful to the eye, but greatly enhances the value of cer- tain articles. The new things required will be different from those to be replaced, as you will have in all probability left a fresh nook vacant that is capable of totally different treatment. is a new couch needed? Have a cozy corner instead. Does the study require a fresh overmantel? Try instead an arrange- ment of bookshelves surmounted with china to about half the height above the mantel- shelf, with pictures above. If a bedroom, formerly covered with carpet, needs a new one, have the boards varnished and strew the floor with rugs or the dressed skins of animals. Written for The Evening Star, In Shadow Land, In shadow land I wander far Without the clasp of that dear hand Whose mother’s love was like a star, In shadow land. Her soul has reached the shining strand, Where waves that roll from Death's dark bar Lapse into light and music grand, An shadow land. She wells where darkness cannot mar ‘The hills of God by glory spanned, 1 roam where Grief’s gray memories are, In shadow land. Toba at BBP Mises SeEAEBS ie, z f : tr i il i ei are perfectly ty ! | 8 Ee cf l g ; Hi ity to throw it away, for you may come to need it badly when you have none on hand. Boil such as you do not empty fruit cans and seal up. handled and kept in .— “34 . oo keep indefinitely, An way 0 pul a little gelatine in the hot stock, then put in molds to cool It will not keep as well, but is sure to keep for a few weeks if kept cool, If you are inviting an informal company do not neglect to inform every guest of the exact proportions of the affair. And do not change your plans afterward and make @ more formal affair of it. It is annoying for those who have taken you at your word that it will be a “small and early.” and worn attire befitting such a function, to find that all the other people are in full Gress. It is not an agreeable experience, and it is thoughtless to subject one’s friends to such needless annoyance. | : Always have your address on your card. It is most annoying for a lady who is a stranger in the city to have to look up in the directory the addresses of the ladies who have left their cards on her table. Half the time the address is not in the di- rectory, and ther the slighted woman who is not called on because she can’t be found by onflinary means goes off and says hor- rid things about a very nice woman who ‘would like to do her duty her callers if they would give her half a ce. FOR IXDIGESTION AND DEBILITY Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphat.