Evening Star Newspaper, May 19, 1894, Page 18

THE GIRL GRADUATE ~Becoming Costumes for the Stage ’ on Commencement Day. a on BOME IDEAS ALSO AS 10 THE ESSAY The Sweetest of All the June Roses Are the Girls. BOME SIMPLE COMBINATIONS Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE CROP OF JUNE girls {s almost ripe and graduation dress- , #8 are in ordet. There is something emi- hently fitting in as- sociating the month of roses with sweet- faced girls as fresh as balf-opened roses themselves, but the idea might be car tied much further, with perfect proprie- . ty. The rose is at its [Bweetest when {ts leaves first unfold them- felves to the kisses of the vagrant winds, nd if no blight has touched it, its frag- Fance fills its little world with delightful perfume, and its subtle charm is felt in every fiber of one’s being. The June girl is Uke the tenderly-cared for rose. She has Rever felt a chill, and the winds of heaven have never been permitted to touch her heavily. She has been fed upon those things that would advance Ner mental and moral interests, ahd tenderly sheltered from all Bhat would warp or distort her refined sen- ,mibilities. Certainly, then, when she blos- goms out, she ought to delight all who come » Pear her, and doubtless does, for’a time, for & 1s hard to be practical and cold-blooded te ee Elaborately Plan. With a pretty young woman, who, fresh from years of theorizing, pounces down on the world with her new-fangied notions of feform, impatient of restraint, and eager for conquest. The dimile of the rose ends (with the blooming. The flower is content fo let its fragrance please whom it will, and wften “wastes its sweetness on the desert Bir;” but you don’t catch girls wasting any bf their sweetness on anybody or anything. » It seems a great pity that girls should loom so much earlier now than they used «“to. They live in a forcing house atmosphere q@uthat puts them-through course after course of learning and rushes them into the mar- ket with their wares before their powers @re fully developed. The result is not al- ‘ways pleasing. Yet it is love's labor lost to 1 fell the June giri that she has only just commenced to learn life’s lesson, and that Bo far as frui fm the bud. m is concerned, she is yet believes that she ts fully the duties and responsibilities satisfied with her- ygest to her—but &f you are wise you will n gust reached the point ¥ ins, she will awe you i ned speculation cover that she i lunched with Plato and supped with Pericles,” and knows the Nebu- Jar hypothesis and Disboscation, and most of the other diabolical isms, just iike you know “E Pluribus Unum.” That is, she knows the book part of it, and no more. Anything outside of that is a dead language fo her, just as Latin is to you; yet you both sofhave a trick of phrasing. The Vase May Be Shattered. I wonder if, after all, we are quite kind fo the June girl? She is so altogether charming and lovely, in her snow-white fobes, her smiles and her pretty self-assur- | ance, that it is all but brutal to intrude our | ‘wisdom and experience upon her, and so we | fet her go, knowing but too well that the | day wifl come when all her little world of | theories. will fall 4n ruins about her, and j Bard cold facts stare her in the face, to Graceful and Pretty. ve the lie to a preconceived ideas of he eternal eth 1d not consider it a kindness to disarranged by our pessimistic truisms, t THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 19, 1894—TWENTY PAGES, exhausted when put to the test of actual | service. The Graduating Essay. It is not the fault of the girl that she does not know more when she “graduates; she absorbs the little learning, which is such a dangerous thing, exactly as a sponge does wAter, and puffed with her consuming greatness it is hardly her fault that her mind has limitations, as well as the curriculum. One small head cannot contain everything, Simple Mulle. and the sphere must be narrow if the men- tal horizon is circumscribed. But there is one thing that can be done, and that is easy of accomplishment: The June girl can save herself from being a laughing stock among her enemies, an objéct of-pity to her friends, and of bitter mortification to her- self in after years. She can at least write her own essay and discuss subjects with which she has a speaking acquaintance, a reform much needed and greatly to be de- sired. It takes a mighty pretty girl and one that is most charmingly gowned to arouse enthusiasm for a subject which one knows is plagiarized from the cyclopaedia, and one must be blessed with Spartan forti- tude to sit submissively silent while listen- ing to a girl in her teens settle the silver question in a half dozen pages, or a girl with a lisp truculently assert her faith in free trade. She may possibly talk less blindly of hope and charity, but even here she must be bound by her few years and narrow experience to a circumscribed sphere and in the broader field of religious theorizing, In which the best minds of the age fight wordy and endless duels, the sweet girl graduate grazes with a ‘com- placence that is little short of maddening. But tarring the essays and valedictories, which are endured as cne does the whoop- ing cough and measies, because they can’t be warded off, the June girl is a creature to be loved and lauded. She is always youthful, and that in itself is charming, and she is generally pretty; appropriately gowned, youth and beauty make a com- bination that can't be discounted, even by the average graduation composition. Per- haps that is one reason why the sweet girl graduate pays such strict attention to her commencement gown. She knows that if she looks very pretty indeed the ennuied audience will forgive her much, and in this she exhibits a wisdom beyond her years, an inborn perception akin to the instinct of the animal, perhaps. The Commence: 1t Gown. Dear me! what a lot of moralizing a bit of tulle and a shred of lace will lead, one into! I was over in the West End paying a visit to a swell modiste—professedly, and incidertally hoping to get some ideas of how thé summer girl was going to gown herself. When I ran in upon madam, as she sat in a veritable mist of lace and lawn, silk and satin gauze, evolving “com- vides | In Grecian Gown. mencerment” frivols, Coxey on the Cap- itol steps created no more consternation than I did in that swell establishment, into whose holy of holies I penetrated before my mad course was impeded. You see, the madam is as exclusive as the wife of a cabine* official, and you might almost as well try to get a snap shot of the White House babies as a glimpse of her creations before they appeat in public, for, like the old masters, there is only one of a kind, and a duplicate simply means a base imita- tion, and lacks the hall mark which estab- Ushes its individuality. Since I was in, however, madam mad? the best of the sit- uation, and talked to me very affably be~ fore I left. There was one stipulation, however—I was to name no names when I wrote up those lovely gowns! Of course it was annoying to have to make such a promise, but I had to concede something for the sake of seeing the gowns. “We are making graduating gowns very plain indeed this year,” said madam, and then held up one for me to see it. I won- dered what my grandmother would have said to that for a plain gown. The dress she wore and called a “frock” was about three yards around the bottom of the skirt, scant and plain enough, even for her slim figure, with a low necked, short sleeved thing in lieu of a waist, that would hardly suffice for a corset cover now, and there was not a yard of trimming on the gown of sheerest mull, except the thread lace in the neck which her mother had on her wedding gown. She wore a narrow ribbon belt fastened with a quaint old pear! buckle and lace mitts which she knit herself in a fine and painfully elaborate pattern. A Love of Dre: The gown which madam spread out over her attendant had for its foundation a mar- velously beautiful white jacquard silk, the brocaded flowers being a single lily-of-the- valley, with two leaves, all in white. Of course it was high in the neck. It is not con- sidered at all in good taste to wear a low- necked gown at either one’s own wedding or graduation. About the bottom of the skirt was a deep flounce of embroidered tulle, and she would not credit t t ‘would only annoy her. nt © selves by saying that s n it Zast enough, and as th burden so she will f equanimity the s Ret of alabaste ase imitation. the road and found it so ur. all ck is fitt led to bear with her precious after all, only a gh do wish that ‘we might be of s e service in pointing | Pretty? Why, it was enough to make one Out the stumbling es. The path is lined | want to go right off and graduate in some- with roses now, and the way r le pleasant | thing oneself, just for the sake of having by the plaudits of inconsid: ie friends, dainty gown exactly like it, and yet on who are the architects of a great many |sober second thought it was a gown Da etter fitted for a ball room. It savored e oo much of conventionality of the rs abiding place, but the pity |Young lady of the world, and I liked of it is that they cannot permanently abide| better the simple slip of mousselaine de | there, ‘and the mockery of it is that re-| Sole which madam next displayed. The | moval implies not loss, but gain. y when her cherished theories get knocked out by cold facts that the June girl begins to have some small conception of her own imitations and the world’s vastness. Commnecement gow with June girls ribbons and diplo- wets and blarney, all It is only pline of the maxim: learned there bear ly the k to the great school of the w into the presidency of Which there fs no royal road. The kind of Wisdom that qualifies one for the actual business of life is.only gained by stern and gctual experience, and the little insight Bhat one gets in the school rocom is soon i to the | | under slip w: | 's, but it is, after | put on in a waving fashion with a ruching of white silk violets. The sleeves were noth- ing but puffs of tulle, with a fall of the game filmy stuff, lightiy embroidered. The embroidery on such thin materiais must always be a suggestion rather than an as- mn of richness in needle work. The sharp revers were of the Silk overlaid with 0 have traveled | embroidered tulle. The ribbons were a soft | silky gauze. white satin surah, in an exquisite quality, without rustle, and had only a tiny ruffle of its own material at the foot. The mousselaine was dotted with fine silk spots and gathered in baby fashion at the neck in multitudinous shirrs, caught at the waist with the softest of satin rib- bons and fell in straight, clinging folds ces in the economy of nature. | to the feet over the satin slip. It had nar. | the Model grew ‘flabby’ the school room is valua-!| row white satin ribbon banding the skirt | in one, two and three rows, and the sleeves were caught in one big puff to a satin foundation. For a Stately Creature. Anctker extremely dainty dress was of fine dotted silk mull, made with three skirts, each one edged with Valenciennes lace. The full front of the bodice was held & down by a narrow band of white satin, and the sleeves were formed of rows of wide lace on a mull puff. The under slip was white silk. A handscme gown for a tall, stately young creature of aesthetic ten- dencies is half Grecian th conception and is of white lace gauze and satin stripe alter- nating. It is caught up on one side with @ rosette of lace, and has a border of sil- |ver in Grecian design on satin about the edge. The Wodice has the gauze folded shawl fashion across the bust and shoulder revers, with falls of embroidered lisse. There is always one rule that should be observed in making graduation gowns. The materials should not be heavy, and they should never be elaborately made up. Thick satins, heavy moires and &tiff bro- cades are out of place on a girl who is just emerging from school. It is optional wheth- er gloves are worn or not. It is certainly more girlish and pretty not to wear them. The slippers or boots should be of the material of the dress, or of white suede. White satin shoes will make tlie foot look large, and silk or dressed kid are no better. In fact, the closer one sticks to simplicity in the preparation for a girl's graduation the more pleasing the affair will be. BALL, —reo—___—_. HER SPRING DIET. Hints for the Woman Who Really Respects Her Digestion. From the Philadelphia Times. Now js the time to bring down the proud head of the butcher and to make his spirit sote within him by ceasing to patronize him much. The days of greens and vege- tables have come, and the woman who practices vegetarianism during the spring Months is the woman whose temper wiil be good, whose step will be springing and whose complexion will be a thing of beauty later on. “The “spring tonic,” to which most people unfailingly return at this season, will not be needed if meat is also banished from the bill of fare. In all probability the hygienic woman has all winter been eating oranges before she attacked the oatmeal and muffins of her morning repast. Oranges are still in order, but they may be varied bf graye fruit ana before long by strawberries even. Straw- berries and cream, by the way, are not a fit dish for a morning meal, but the berries alone, with a little powdered sugar, will make a delicious beginning for breakfast. Oatmeal is also to be banished from the breakfast table, and hot bread and heavy cakes. Let cold graham bread with deli- cious butter be substituted, and let a little piece of broiled fish, with plenty of water cress, be added, and there is a breakfast dainty enough for the most epicurean taste, and hygienic enough even for a nineteenth century woman. For luncheon she should have more fruit —dates, figs or any other sort—more cold whole wheat or graham or rye bread, olives, a crisp lettuce leaf or so, and a cup of fresh-madé, fragrant tea. The deadly eclair and the fatal cream puff must be tabooed in the hygienic spring luncheon, ‘ At dinner hot clear soup, very little well- cooked meat, plenty of fresh vegetables, a green salad with French dressing, fruit and a “thimbleful” of black coffee will make a goodly repast. And the woman who eats these things will be blooming like the rose within three months, tee THE BUCKLE FAD UPON US. Being Collected With a Vim the Sou= venir Spoon Craze Knew Not. From the Philadelphia Times. The merry maidens of Gotham are now collecting buckles. They prefer a new buckle to a box of bon bons-or a bunch of violets, and when presents are not numerous their own allowance dithinishes with startling rapidity, Cause—the boom in buckles. The dainty summer shirt waists are, in a meas- ure, responsible for this buckle craze. They require a belt, and the belt requires a buckle. ‘The silver buckles are the most popular. They are long and narrow, or round, and much ornamented. Some are of filigree, while others are plain or oxidized. Buckles of black enamel inlaid with stiver or gold are effective upon a delicately tinted ribbon belt. The gold buckles are beautiful enough to warrant the price at which they are sold. One represents a goid hoop, around which a snake has twined its body. The eyes are glistening emeralds. Plain gold buckles have the owner's mono- gram engraved vpon them. Among the newest silver buckles are those inlaid with pale blue enamel. Delicate buckles of tor- toise shell are also seen this year inlaid with gold or enamel. Tiie buckles which adorn the tennis belt are sure somewhere to show a racquet. A new buckle to be worn with a yachting gown is of Roman gold shaped like an anchor, with bronzed cords coiled about it. A dainty bucklé attached to a white ribbon belt was formed of a wreath of blue enamel forget-me-nots. Jewel boxes made especially for buckles are now being manufactured. ~ ee TO SUBDUE QNIONS. Mouth Washes That Destroy Their Odor. From the Philadelphia Times, “Talk about the tobacco-scented breath of men,” said a pretty girl, “I have suffered more at matinees from sitting next a wo- man who had eaten potato salad or Spanish omelet or some dish of which onions or garlic formed a part than I ever did from the fumes of tobacco in the presence of men. The odor of wine which women drink at table as often as men do is no more pleas ant because it is wafted from between the pretty lips of a woman, who, perchance, would tip-tilt her nose at detecting it on a ‘horrid man.’ There is more truth than poetry in this criticism, but a little care will prevent any one from being offensive on account of the food or liquids they have taken. A cup of black, coffee will destroy the fumes of the malodorous onion. The “fad” of having Peppermints and wintergreen cream candies on the table has method in its madness, as one of these will destroy the odor left by wine. It would be quite ‘safe to use as a mouth wash and gargle after each meal a glass of water, in which has been put « few drops each of camphor and myrrh. A bit of orris root might be carried in the masculine pocket for use when necessary, for it, as well as stick cinnamon or ginger, will dis- guise unpleasant odors. In some cases, however, the “ounce of prevention” would render resort to these disguises unneces- sary. Henry Ward Beecher once charac- teristically said: ‘here is no smell so uni- versally pleasing as no smell.” From the Detroit Free Press. For her the sweetest blossoms should break a per- fume rare, her the tenderest music should come floating through the air; 4 her the choicest pleasures should bedeck and pave the way, For For And brightest beams of eunlight at her feet in glory play. For her the blushing rosebud should discard its cruel thorn, And for ber heaving bosom other eager searchers scorn; For her » pure contentment should throw its arms about For her I'd make the journey through this land of bitter tears ‘i A lasting day of smiling love, devoid of dotibt and fears; Her path should grow resplendent, the way'be like a dream; 1d make her life with bappiness like dearest heaven seem. e+ Woman's Ingenuity Rarely Fails. From Ladies’ Home Journal. Women, who, for various reasons, do their own dressmaking, well know the trouble and difficulty of properly fitting a waist. The draping of the skirt 1s more easily accomplished, even if Aunt Abie’s method of calling in the hired man and draping it upon him has to be adopted at last. A woman set her wits to work re- cently, and hit upon a unique idea. She todk,an old waist that fitted her to perftc- | tion, and which buttoned down the front. She buttoned it, then sewed the button- holes all tight and cut the buttons off. Then she took a piece of cardboard the size of the neck and sewed it in as a cover, and upon this she raised a pin cushion by means of rags and saw dust. The sleeves were cut off at the elbow and tightly tied, and then the figure was inverted and tight- ly packed with sawdust. to settle for two days, and was then again was rammed tight. Then another piece of ardboard was cut to fill the bottom orifice, and this was sewed in, and the whole figure covered with muslin to prevent the saw- dust leaking, and to afford a good pin hold. The model is now the exact shape of the individual the dress is intended for, {and all she needs to do is to place the | model on the tabie, put on it a pair of cor- | sets and fit the material over these. When she tightened it by forcing the sawdust out of the arms into the bust, and refilling the arms with fresh sawdust. "FOR WEAK NERVES Use Horsford's Actd Phosphate. It 1s particularly useful in making weak nerves strong, as it contains necessary elements of nutri- tion for the mervous system, obtained from natural sources. This was allowed | punched and pounded until every crevice | EARNING A_ LIVING The Hard Problem That Girls Are Often Confronted With. SENORA SARA CITES SOME INSTANCES Advantages of Some Forms of Do- mestic Service. A GIRL’S PLUCKY VICTORY Written Exclusively for The Brening Star. F I HAD TO EARN my living, I wonder how I would go about itr” One day a lot of young ladies were gathered at our house, and in com- mon with everybody else they got to dis- cussing one of the “burning questions’ the da y—ques- tions as hard of solu- tion as the problems Propounded by Job and Jeremiah. One of the daintiest of the whole dainty party musingly made the foregoing remark. The girls all set about telling her what she might do, if thrown upon the cold charity of the world, and they had a merry time of it indeed. None of them were what might be called rich, but they: knew very little about the actual work of: life. It is the misfortune of ‘ity reared girls that ser- vants are always at their beck and call, and some of them have to learn in sorrow- ful after fears those things which if taught them By careful mothers would save them many heartaches. Ellen, the young lady who was the recipient of so much good advice, was rather more fortunate than the others, for she was fond of house- wifel} duties, and of little children, So she | Was told that she could go as cook, cham- bermaid, nurse girl; lady’s maid, but the preponderance of suggestion was favor of the cook’s place, because, as one of the girls said, she could get up the daintiest of dinners and lunches, and serve them so charmingly. I never have thought that any general principle could be laid down as a solution of the social economic question, for the solutions must be almost as numerous the individuals who have to work them out along with their own salvation. The wa: for women to earn a living are as numer- ous and varied as the helpless females who are daily thrown on their own resources. These resources are appallingly insignificant sometimes, and {t isn’t much wonder that so many girls and women get pessimistic and think that life is not worth the living, and that/it were better to shuffle off this mortal coil than suffer the “whips and scorns” of a jostling got-to-get-there-or-go- vurcer-world any longer. That feeling be- ccmes almost insanity sometimes, and causes many a girl to enter forbidden paths, because the straight and narrow one is spread with thorns to the very edges. Facing the Hard Reality. It was a pitiful little note that came to me yesterday morning, that set me to thinking of this subject again, a subject fraught with vital importance to both men and women just now. The note was tear. stained and blotted,and was signed “Ellen.” My poor little friend had been brought face to face with her necessity sooner than she or any of us expected. I will not give all the note, for there are some sorrowful re- flections in ft, on those who should have been kind to the child in her hour of trouble and were not. “What an awful blank life will be with- t my father and mother!” the note began. “And O, what am I to do? Please advise me, for I am well nigh hopeless. * * * I don’t know anything well except housework. It looks as though there is nothing left me to do but to go into somebody’s kitchen, and that seems so degrading, or ts it just my false ideas of what is proper? I never thought of it that way in our own kitchen, ahd you know you all used to say that it was my vocation to be a cook. Shall I do that? Maybe, now that I am thrown on my own resources, I can rise above it in time. Do tell me what is best to do.” What a text that letter is to preach a ser- mon to mothers upon! Here is the average American girl, the daughter of the average American father and mother, who lived, as the average family does, only for the en- joyment of the present, and lived well. They educated Ellen, an only child, in the haphazard way common in this age, with a smattering of languages, a jangle of music and in the “art” spoiling nice white china and canvas with “otis.” Death took both of them in one week, and then chaos reigned in the “lovely little home.” Place as a Cook. A rented home, with unsubstantial fur- niture, of which it was looted in a day to satisfy the demands of creditors. Then the daughter was set out in the world utterly defenseless, except for her natural gift of “housekeeping,” which was a mockery with no house to keep. It was pitiful! Yet the same thing happens almost every day to some one. I knew Ellen was not fitted for public life, for she is far too pretty, and much too confiding. I was as nearly at my wits’ end as she, but I wrote a note to a friend, and got a favorable answer; then I wrote to Ellen and told her how to reach the lady, whose address I inclosed, and en- couraged her to take whatever was offeved her. I knew what that would be, but I did not believe for a minute that Ellen would take a place as cook. There is a wide dif- ference between theory and practice. Ad- vice is a good deal like castor oll—easy to give, but hard to take I was delighted when Ellen came at night, with shining eves, to tell me that she had secured a place! “1 simply hated you for a moment, after getting your letter,” she said frankly, “but I had to do something at once was nearly desperate; but I was determined not to accept charity as long as I could work, so I started to see the lady, and before I got there was quite reconciled. After all, work is work, no matter whether one wrestles with it over the cook stove or the counter. I have a much prettier room than half the department clerks, all to myself, and the nicest and most nutritious food, which I know ts clean, for I cook it myself. My kitchen has all the modern improve- ments, and I have only to go to the tele- phone to have sent me all the delicacies of the season. There are only three people to. cook for, besides myself, and I do no laun- dry work and no mending. I am to get all this and $20 a month besides. If I were a clerk in a store, I might get, possibly, $40 a month, but I would have to be very valu- able to get that. In the government employ I might earn $0 a month in an unhealthy office; and, in either case, at least $30 would go for room and board, and the rest for clothes. At the end of the month I would not have a dollar left, and would be in mortal terror of that yellow envelope all the time. I am pretty sure that my puff paste and pies will be a better passport to favor where I am than political influence, and I know that the moral atmosphere is purer, too,” she concluded with a laugh that did my heart good to hear. I saw that her sunny nature was recovering its natural tone under the stimulus of independence. A False Pride. Now, there are some girls who will turn from Ellen, believing that she has lowered herself. In fact, I know of two, who heard the “perfectly awful” state of affairs this afternoon, who have decided not to “know” her. But bless you, it will not hurt her in the least. One of these girls lives on an in- come derived from a shady gambling den, and her father does not appear at any of her “at homes” because she is ashamed of him. The other girl lives in a splendi: mortgaged home, and the life is harasse | out of her poor father to support the style she and her mother deem necessary. It | may not be many months before she is placed in like position. Then what will she do? She can’t even cook. A friend with whom I spoke of the courage that Ellen had displayed said that she would not stay there long, for she was too bright. “She will work up into something better,” she said. Why not work up where she is? Fabulous sums are paid for cooks. To be sure, they are called “chefs” after they get over a hundred dollars a month, but they are cooks all the same. The stomach is the seat of the soul, and what better work can one have than feed- ing the immortal part of man? Mind is all right, but you can starve it and the body will live right on and put on rotund pro- portions, as though mind was a small mat- ter. But you go to feeding yourself on sour bread, soggy potatoes, boiled coffee, and badly prepared meat and see what sort | Fretfully, Minnie declared that Kat. off all the luxuries, through blue glasses. Limit yourself in the necessities, and you raise the red fiag. Cut off rations entirely and the under- taker is all the servant you need. You re- member the poet says: We may live without poetry, music and art, We may live without conscience, and live without heart, We may live without friends, we may live without books; But io agg man cannot live without cooks. . He may live without books—what is knowl- edge but grieving? He may live without hope—what is hope but deceiving? He may live without love—what is passion but pining? But where is the man who can live with- out dining? So, after all, may not the cook play a far larger part in the plan of life than she is given credit for? And if she does her work well and feeds your bodies on wholesome, well-cooked food is she not accomplishing quite as much as the one who labors to buy the food? One produces the raw ma- terial, the other serves up the finished product. The Social Slight. Last night I was resting on @ couch back of the library curtains, when the girls came in from a riding party, and as they sat afound in various attitudes of comfort known to girls, they began to talk about Ellen. Some of them, notably those who had been reared in a more conservative manner than Dorothy and Elaine, doubted the wisdom of thi tgp Sorin yng I was (0 see, however, that they talked in a sensible way about it, and that they were not disposed to cut her acquaint- ance, though they were positive that “‘so- ciety” would close to her the doors that were once open. That is true, but it will be small loss. Society is a great big oc- topus that swallows up a good many more souls than it saves, after all. “Society is sometimes sorry for its at- tempts at ostracism,” said Elaine, as she smoothed her gloves out on her lap. “And I have known instances when it all but went down on its knees to coax Peo- ple of note whom it had slighted, unwit- tingly, of course. Society is dull, generally speaking, and likes to have precedents, like the Senate. I know a woman in Chicago that society would like to get possession of, but it never will.” Of course there was a chorus of “O, tell us about her,” and she smilingly complied, for Elaine is right clever. She saw that it would show the more conservative girls that her ideas of ennobling labor were not chimerical, as they had been practically demonstrated. A Brave Farmer’s Girl, “The woman I speak of has been a model for me for a good many years; her mother was my mother’s friend. Her struggle for a competence was a long bs serious one, but there is much in it t may cheer other girls who have the same hard hill to climb. She began her battle with the world when she was just fifteen. She was then on a homestead in Nebraska. One morning in June, twenty-five years ago, she stood on the steps of her prairie home and with won- dering eyes gazed upon the devastation made by the grasshoppers in a singie night. The little brown pests had swept the earth clean of every vestige of vegetation and had set the labor of a whole year at naught. Kate—that isn't her name, but it will do— knew what that meant for herself and par- ents, and there was a little baby sister be- sides. They were pioneers of a year's stand- ing, and had exhausted their means in preparation for their first crop. To save the expense of a man, Kate had helped put the corn and wheat in, and the money thus saved had been promised her for the univer- sity course which she craved. “Instead of that, however, pinching pov- erty and privation stared them #h the face until another crop could be raised. I sup- pose you have heard your parents talk of the ald that was sent to the grasshopper sufferers of the west? But Khte was too Proud to accept such aid. She said that peo» ple who were in poor health and hud hel; less children dependent upon them were the ones who should be aided, and not abile- led women like herself. ‘I am young and strong, and I can work,’ she said. Her mother was one of the desponding kind. She asked disconsolately what she would do, as the school was lied with a teach- er, and Kate had no 10 upon which to teach music, even if there were pupils, and everybody in the country was not as poor as themselves; neither was there any sew- ing to do. Started a Laundry. “Kate laughed merrily at her mother’s no- tion of work for her, for, as she declared, ‘she didn’t know enough of music to dese- crate the divine art by mentioning ‘t, and couldn't sew a etraight seam to save her soul.’ Then she almost paralyzed her moth- er by announcing her intention of starting a laundry! She explained that the wife of the man who owned the big Cottonwood ranch adjoining, sent her fine clothes to the city to have them done, and was paying five dol- lars a week for the privilege. She was will- ing to pay Kate four dollars, if she wished to take the work. “There is one thing I can do,’ said Kate. ‘I can’ wash and clear starch and fron with the best of them. I'm going to take Mrs. Johnson's washing, and I can get enough from town people to pay me at least five dollars more a week. I can study nights, and I'll be ready to go to schoot next winter, in spite of grasshop- pers.’ And she w: “She had quite a surplus over and above the family expenses when the winter storms began to sweep over the plains. The ist of February e teacher of the district school fell ill, and Kate was asked to finish out the year, at thirty dollars a month. She took it and tramped two miles through all the snows and bilzzards of a terrible spring. She said that the laundry paid her better, for she did not wear out so many clothes, or so much shoe leather, but she felt that she was getting rusty, and needed the stimulus that she knew she would get in trying to keep ahead of some of the young men, who were almost as scholars as herself. After her school was out, the wo- man for whom she had washed offered her five dollars a week to do her cooking. She took that till the harvest began, then she went home to help in the house, and more often out, for her father was not strong. Pluck and Misfortanc. “She drove the harvester most of the time, and helped sack the grain for market. The harvest was a good one, and that winter she went to the university. She worked for her board, to save for the second year, which she saw would be a gteater strain on her mental forces, and she might not be able to stand it. That summer everything failed. ‘Everything but the sunflowers,’ Kate said. “They looked so cheery and happy all the time that I imagined that they were trying to tell me that brighter times were coming.’ They were a long time about it, though. That summer her father died and her mother’s health failed, and she was ordered to a milder climate for the winter. Kate mortgaged the farm and took the baby sister and her dying mother south. Six months later she and the little sister were alone in the world and homeless, for Kate could not pay even the second in- stallment of interest on the mortgaged farm. “Finally. in desperation, and for the sake of the child, Kate came to Chicago and ap- plied to friends there for assistance till she could get started at earning a living. It is a shameful thing to tell, but it is a fact. that none of them would aid her, beyond offering her a little mompey and some old clothes! The work that she wanted they would not give her, because they did not want to be troubled with the child. They all ignored any former friendship, and were so coldly polite to her, whose father had given them their own start in life, that she finally turned from them in disgust. She took a little room, and, with the child for her companion, worked at all kinds of make- shifts that offered a few cents. Kate had an inventive brain, and during the long hours that she bent above het sewifg—in the hard school of adversity she had learned to do even that—she amused the little sister by telling her stories, original stories which she invented she went along, without thinking much about what she was saying. The Baby Critic. “At last Minnie, the sister, fell ill, and in her restlessness begged for stories, till Kate's poor, tired brain refused to invent any more new ones; so she tfled to put her off with reading some from a child’s paper. sto- ries were best. ‘Sister, you write one and send it for other little girls to read,’ she begged, and demanded to be held while Kate was writing, promising to be very wood. So to please the whim of the sick child Kate spent the long hours of one night penning a child's story, bending to her task over the flushed face of her little sister as she lay in her lap, often fousing feverishly to know if the story was com- leted. me ‘It is the best you ever told me,” cried the baby critic when at last the story was read to her. ‘You send it to the paper, so that some other children can have it read to them,’ she said, and without faith that it would 8ucceed Kate sent the story away, smiling rather sadly at the throwing away of two postage stamps, which meant a loaf of bread less for herself. With a taste for writing, but unaware of a talent for it, Kate had never tried to exercise a natural of an animal you will get to be. Just cut gift, and was perfectly amazed, four weeks and you see life | later, to receive a letter from the editor of the child's paper, a check for $25, and a re- Quest for more stories of the same clean, healthy tone. It was shortly after that that my mother went to Chicago, and quite by accident discovered the whereabouts of the daughter of her old friend. Kate was just beginning to get on her feet again, and her success was already assured. She is now one of the most popular writers of the day for the young; but she lives quietly, and simply ignores the people who were so pee to her when she was struggling to ive.” The girls were very quiet after Elaine finished; and her story had evidently im- pressed them deeply. But Kate's misfor- tunes weré no more, perhaps, than hun- dreds of women undergo every day. They do not attain a tithe of her success, how- ever, ‘ause they give up despondently and let the world crush them. Women must learn to begin the struggle just where they can lay their hands on honest work that comes easiest and most natural to them; always striving to improve on the situation, but not to the point of making one discontented with life. The work that Mes nearest may sometimes be distasteful, but life's bitter and sweet are so evenly mixed that we are obliged to take what is doled out to us. Rich and poor share alike in that. Genius and talent Mave a great deal to do with phenomenal successes, but determination will accomplish almost as much, and is far more reliable. What do you think about it?. SENORA SARA, ——__ SHE WAS A SMART GIRL. And She Made Him Draw a Big Prise in Lové’s Lottery. From the Buffalo Express. There was @ young man who had a girl friend. He went to see her at regular in- tervals. He made his last call one day last week. She had some wedding cake from the nuptials of a friend of hers, and she was telling him of a new way she had dis- covered for finding out whether you were going to get married within a year. “I will take some of this cake,” she said, “and put it in this envelope, and I will take seven slips of paper and write on six of them the rames of six girls you know, any one of whom you are likely to marry. Tie seventh I will leave blank. Then I will put the slips in the envelope with the wedding cake and give the whole thing to you. Now, you must take it and put ft under your pillow when you go home. In the morning, the very first thing after you open your-eyes.you must take out one slip. Do this for seven mornings in succession, and on the last slip will be the name of the giri you are sure to marry. If the Blank comes last you will never marry.” The young man was quite impressed with the sgheme. He took the envelope and promised faithfully to fulfill all the condi- tions and to come back report at the end of seven days. He went home and put the envelope under his pillow. Next morn- ing he drew out @ slip, and on it was the rame of the girl who had given the charm to him. He thought that that was pretty tough luck, for he really liked the girl very much. He was out rather late next night, and when he awoke he was in a hurry an@ forgot all about the charm. When he got home that night,he began thinking the mat- ter over and wondering who the other giris were. He got the envelope and peered into it. The slips were all carefully folded and he could not see a name. Then his curiosity got the upper hand. He took out all the slips and unfolded them. All of the re- maining six had names on them and in each instance the name was that of the girl who had prepared the He sat down and thought long and earnestly. Then he put on his evening clothes and went Straight up to that girl’s house. He stayed a long time and when he came away he Was sniiling and happy.and there is going to be a wi on the West Side one of these days! There is a girl who has a long head ——_—_~+e-____ WOMEN WHO FLIRT. A Habit Some Are Born With; ang That Others Acquire. From the Philadelphia Times. The born flirt is not dangefous. She may appear so,but in reality her little coquettish, fascinating ways are not the cultivated wiles of a siren, but are as natural to her as breathing. In all probability when her eyes first opened upon this world she smiled at the doctor, and through her babyhood end childhood up to the time she was consid- ered a woman that gulleless smile wrought havoc with every man wlio came within the circle of its sunny influence. . She doesn’t think she is flirting. She i merely enjoying herself. Men have always paid her a certain amount of homage, and that she intends to have up to the day of her death. The born flirt need not be beau- tiful, she need not be even pretty, but if she possesses that personal magnetism that counts for more than symmetry of contour, men will adore her and she will let them till the end of time. All women dubbed flirts are certain to come in for a considerable amount of un- kind criticism from those who do not un- derstand them. The unconscious ftirt will, howbver, after awhile disarm her «worst enemy, for if time is taken to study, the | little lady the strange phenomenon, will be discovered that she flirts just as much with women as with members of the opposite sex. Her pretty ways are irresistible to men and women alike, and so she goes on smiling and magnetizing all who come within her power, and those that came to censure remain to praise. But, oh! what a different character is the deliberate flirt, the woman who coquets with interft to kill, who lets flirtation run into romance, an blow destroys a man’s hopes just for the sake of seeing the card house she has built up scatter ifto its component parts before her very eyes. She is the type of woman who separates husbands and wives, who sows discords in hitherto happy families, who enjoys making sweethearts unhappy and younger women envious. She is a schemer who plans her campaign deliber- ately, not a little skirmisher who uses her Weapon on all alike. The flirt by design ts a dangerous person. She loves to wound. She delights in the cries of those who have been pierced by the @arts from her havoc-dealing eyes. Her victims are fewer than those that come to the net of the born flirt, but their suffering is real, their pain bitter, The natural flirt will go on flirting with her own husband after they have been married twenty years, but the other one,if chance or design’ brings her a man, whose name she is asked to bear, no longer wastes her time on him, but looks around for some one else's husband to practice her wiles upon. ——~+e+____ ‘The Woman’s Century, From the Ladies’ Home Journal. For conscience sake, let us cease this ever- lasting prattle about the present. being “woman’s, century” and “woman's age,” implying each time that we say it that the women of any previous age were driveling idiots, and casting a slur upon the very women who gave us our being. Why is this “woman’s century” any more than was any century before it? Just because a few thousand more women are engaged in busi- ness? Does that fact make it a “woman's century?” We haven't determined yet, by any means, whether the present tendency of woman going into the rougher commer- cial pursuits is to her interest or to the benefit of those who will follow her. A lit- tle caution here is a very good thing. What sense is there in this constant ding-donging into the ears of our girls that they are born at the “dawn of woman's emancipation?” Emancipation from what? Will this sort of thing teach our girls to have a greater respect for the women of past generations? If we keep up this harangue much longer I shall not blame our youngest girls if they get the notion that the world oniy began about forty or fifty years ago, if we ex- pect children to have a respect for their mothers, and their mothers’ parents, we cannot enshroud the times in which they lived with the darkness of ignorance and bigotry. The women who lived before the present agitators of the ‘woman's century” were born did a thing or two in the world’s history, far more, I venture to prophesy | from their present talk, than the women of today will do in these latter days if they pursue their present course. If these wo- men—few in number, fortunately—forget this fact let us not be persuaded to do so. We live in a glorious time of the world’s history, but‘there were glorious times be- fore we ever came into the world, and so far as the women of those times are con- cerned, they were not the inferiors of our modern women, except in so far as their limited opportunities compelled them, of | necessity, to live more contracted lives. ———— eee Daty of the Host. From the Ladies’ Home Jouraal. At a dinner party the host should lead the way to the dining room with the mbst important lad; est ul his arm, and seat her at hie right hand. Ele shoukl then remain standing until the guests hate all taken their places. then with one strong | HOUSEHOLD HINTS The Fine Art Involved in Fixing Over Old Glothes. COMMON WASTE OF FUEL IN COOKING Cleanliness in the Nooks and Cor ners Count for Health. FLAXSEED FOR OCINDERS ++ Written Exclusively for The Broning Star. ‘The woman who labors in the kitchen i i teaches a little child who is to be honest, pure minded is helping to rear @ good citizen, not a calling or profession open in which they have not an opportunit} elevate and improve mankind. How uplift instead of dragging a very serious question, . eo 6 & A happy, healthy minded family know is rearing six children be of if E love trees, and one of the celebrate the numerous | family is to set out a Eight trees a year—for their trees also, What a +this would be if those who upon which to put them w: one tree each year. The little this family take care of their own | Water them till they are well started, | 1s amusing to hear them discuss’ the ent kinds and which trees will best der certain conditions. The odd punishment in the family is to cut a limb from the obedient child’s favorite tree With. The mother tells me the _ is felt so keenly, and ‘espoiling the trees, of which they are proud, is almost more than they can dure, and the punishment has only to inflicted once as @ general thing. se it ee els in i le te a soe Fixing over 61d clothes ts a fine it differs from the other fine arts, it is in the reach of the many, restricted to the few, . =. + 6 Women who wear ae keeping their houses clean “eat. off the floor,” should the only right ¥ to live is to in order to live comfortably, live in order to keep house. PR ee Ls i E 8 8 . Most servants, and, indeed, housewives, burn _@ great deal mi fuel in cooking. It is simple waste to and the g&. i BB. up the grate with coal and then punch poke it = it nearly melts the off Stove, only to go through the again when it is all burned out. ‘When the fire is well burning a small shovelful at a time will keep the oven in prime condition, and cook everything on top of the stove just es fast as ugh the vessels dancing a jig from the intense heat. When § & thing is cooking you ma make it cook any faster without spo! it by burning or drying it up too fast. So it is with a heating stove. If you let the coal in the latrobe-all get on fire at once it will drive you out of the room with the heat, but it all burns to white ashes in an hour, —_ by feeding down properly it would heated the house, dnd one feedertul would have suificed for a whole day, re Se When you have finished the kit in the morning, instead of teakettle off with a dab of a none dishrag, bunch up a page of The rub the coffee pot and teakettle Have both of;them a little warm, will shine as bright as new. A is one of the best things in keep the stove looking bright. well once a week, and then rub weal with some newspapers, BS ° i bags tothe! § : * i . °Fhe essential mark of quick and Gelicate perception of the of the guest, together with the delight | ministering to him. If he is hungry, \ him; if cold, warm him; if sleepy, | him to bed. But do all these aa matter of course, and do not let your guest | mragine for a moment that he is putting | you out in the least. That would éull edge of weldeme.. i ‘This is to be what in old times was called “typhus” season. That is, there will be more sickness than usual of a typhoid | character. Remember, you who have management of homes, that the disease is in a dirty dishcloth, ‘a sink, un- | clean teakettle, poorly Ventilated rooms |and impure water. The sink and teakettle jcan be kept clean by a strong application | of ammonia and soap once a day or twice & week at least; the dishcloth and water rill profit by boiling—nct together, how- ever. ja water made after the following receipt is most execiient: Take two drachms each of olls of lavender, bergamot and lemon, Grachm each of tumeric and oil of neroli, | thifty drops of oll of palm and ten drops | of oil of rose; mix these ingredients well with two pints of Geodorized alcohol It will be ready for use in two or three days after mixing. | "2 8 When you wish to use very Gry bread for any purpose, soak it In cold milk or water imstead of having them hot. The hot fluids Seem to take the life out of Gry bread, and render it soggy; the cold soaking leaves it Every housewife should have ecales in j her estore room, and weigh every pound of jstuff that comes into the house. In that fray she can detect the honest and | tradesman, and take her custom only to | those who deserve it. Then, in pre |Serves, pickles, cake and uch things, she | terials. The woman who puts in a wih saved’ the waste of raw material ._. * «© Cold rain water made strong with soda will take out machine ofl grease spots that | have been made on white muslin garments. Avply before the goods has been Ty su iz g oe © 8 Soap bark is about the best hd you can, find for a wash for the hair, thirty grains of quinine to a pine of rum the best and cheapest tonto. . . 8 1 When traveling you should always carry Ja tiny box of flaxseed for possible cinders. ‘The instant that you feel a foreign sub- stance in the eye throw your head back and Grop two or three flaxseed on the ball of the eye, and lift the upper lid and draw it down over them so as to hold them in. |‘Then go about your business. There is ab- |solutely no disagreeable sensation attached |to putting the seed in, and the relief will |come almost instantly. The theory is that | the moisture of the eye dampens the seed, |and it gives out a mucous substance which spreads over the eye and covers the grit. After awhile the seeds will begin to work out, and will bring the offending particle (with them. If the particle has been in for some time it will be longer in bringing re- |lief, for the irritation and inflammation | will have to subside first. Sometimes when | this is the case the flaxseed will have to be put in two or three times before the particle will come away. To allay the inflammation | get an ounce of Tose water, in which dis- | solve three grains of sugar of lead, This is | cooling and healin If your hands are very rough and —, instead of using the nail brush, which woul: | irritate the broken skin, have on your toilet table a box of coarse corn meal, and after soaping the hands pick up a lot of the corn al and rub the hands vigorously with it. |It is cleansing and healing. It is a nice | thing for children who are going to school. The chalk and dust of the school room is ivery hard on the skin, and 1 boy's jknuckles are always grimy. ‘ou are | always careful to rinse the hands in clear water after washing in soap, there ts not nearly so much danger of chapping. If women only knew it, they deform their hands with tight gloves quite as much as their feet with tight shoes. One makes corns and the other big knuckles. Tight anything is bad form. —>—=_——— .. Hall's Hair Renewer contains the nataral foo’ ‘and color matter for the hatr, and medicinal herve for the scalp, curing grafaess, dandruf and scalp sores.