Evening Star Newspaper, May 26, 1894, Page 18

‘Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE WOMAN WHO ‘wears an unbecom- ing hat this season is either lacking in taste, or is the vic- tim of a “mark down ming. There is ab- solutely no rule to follow, except the a g § Black Bourdon Lace and Ribbon. erally with lace and ribbon, but many have flowers or feathers on them, and it may be caught over the nose, or the ear, or in the back, over the knot of hair, just as you like If you have a very pretty ear, Prettier than any other feature, you will tuck your broad brim up over the ears, eatching the same—the hat, not the ears— with rosettes of lace or ribbon. How the Hat Will Tilt. If your eyes are fine, or your forehead right white and sufficiently full, you will ‘want that hat to kick square up in front, with a big fly-away bow spreading out from one side of it to the other, and a band ef tiny rosettes across the front, just @bove the slightly curled bangs—which must be parted in the middle, of course. If you have fine hatr, to which you want fo call particular attention, your hat will turn well up in the back, and all the bows will stand straight up, so that there will be Hothing to interfere with the smooth, shin- ing coil or braids. It will not matter much how the rest of the trimming is dis- | wey for you will keep the back of your ead to people most of the time. The sailor hat is omnipresent this sea- gon just as it has been for the las: half dozen years. It never was a pretty hat at its best and it is less so this season than ever be- fore. The sailor should never be worn ex- cept by a young fresh faced girl. Now I #m aware that I am talking rank heresy, but if women would only study the ethics of the thing they would see that I am right. The sailor is built on straight lines, hard | ones at that, and they bring out all the| irregularities of the faces under them and all the unlovely lines which ill health, bad Trappiste Foula: Remper and old time have so indelibly trac- @t Set a sailor hat jauntily above a thin, ed face, with the hair drawn like a Vise to the top of the head, showing all the ‘wrinkles in the leathery neck, and the thin streaks in the hair painfully in evidence, as well as the badly shaped cranium, and you see the hideous caricature that’ con- fronts one on every hand, because the sailor fs the hat of the multitude. On a young, ound-faced girl, who w: her hair down her back, permitting the to set on her t be a part of her thought, the sailor Effect of a Sailor Hat. Its severe limes serve to make those founded ones of youth still more pleasing. If women knew how to wear the sailor hat it would not be so bad, but they seem to strain after outre styles of setting it above badly arranged loc! If the hair is worn high with the sailor then it should set for- ‘ward over the nose, with a gradual slope from the back to the front, but instead you will see it set away from the face and perched on the back hatr like a bird on the nest. In truth, however, you ought never to wear the hair high with the sailor, it is extremely inartistic. The proper way is to @rrange the hair so that the hat will set on top of the head, with the brim resting on the top of the knot. Uniess the hair is hanging in braids or curls, a space between She hat and hair is bad. With the hair very low the sailor may be set back so that the front part of the brim tilts up in the air in a saucy fashion. <A light, fluffy arrange- ment of the hair is almost a necessity for any woman who wishes to wear the sailor effectively. I really wish the horrid thing would go out of fashion; it {8 hard enough to be pretty under any circumstances and almost impossible if one has to wear sailor hats. They are trimmed now with rosettes and pompons just above each eye, that | makes you think of shortshorned cattle. Mauve Serge and Lace. Another style of trimming has the rosette without pompons and then you look like a polled angus. If you want to be right in the swim, have lace on your gowns and hats and wraps and petticoats and—well, have lace on all your clothes and then shut your eyes and put on a little more. Lace makes about the prettiest trimming in the world. It never quite goes out and the style in good lace never changes. If you are so fortunate, for instance, as to possess a piece of fine black Spanish lace you will find women to envy you, though Spanish lace has been out for several years. So it is with nearly all the old-fashioned laces. Good lace will always be its own passport to favor. Then Get Cheap Lace. If you can possibly afford to buy the best im black lace it will pay you to do so, for it will last almost a lifetime of hard wear. But don’t hesitate to buy lace because you can’t afford the best; the best is so prettily imitated now that, except for the wearing quality, it is just about as nice as the finest. The summer dresses will simply serve as a background for lace garniture. There will be lace flounces, and lace overskirts, and lace ruffles all over the frock from neck to hem. I saw an imported toilet last week that was simply a dream of beauty, and would effectually spoil the dreams of any but a wealthy woman, for the lace on that gown cost $100, to say nothing of the other materials and the making! The foundation was a soft, cream-like yel- low silk, but all it was for was a lining, for not a thread of it ts expected to show. The skirt of the gown is a mass of ruffies to the waist—two-inch wide ones, put on pretty full and straight around. Down the front were In Green and White. two lace boas—I don't know what else to call them—but they were very full lace twists, fastened to the skirt at intervals with bows of white satin ribbon. The waist was round, and formed of the rows of the lace ruffied on cross-ways. The sleeves were the mutton-leg style, with dozens of ruffles of the lace and some ribbon bows. It is to be worn by a tall, willowy brunette, I am told, but she will have to “carry a heap of style” to wear that gown and not look like a lace dummy in a haberdasher’s. Lace capes are extremely graceful and pretty garments, and will serve to freshen up a bodice that Is getting a little passe. It takes about three yards of lace twelve inch- es wide, costing about 75 cents a yard, and a yard of satin surah at a cost of 70 cents, to make one of these convenient little capes; and a woman who has any taste can fash- fon it herself. Often she will have satin or silk pieces that she can utilize, for the lace 1s supposed to cover the cape part all over. I think that stout women ought to be happy when lots of lace is worn, for it is the very best of trimming for them. Lace drapes co prettily, without bunchiness, and it falls in just the graceful festoons that are neces- sary to coaceal too much flesh, yet does not seem to add bulk. It is particularly be- coming to a stout waist, if bunched in the cape-like epaulettes on the shoulder and tapered down to points on the front and back of the bodice. Some Pretty Parasols. Parasols are growing to be more and more works of art. The handles “cost like the mischief,” a man’ said, who was wheeled into a big store recently to buy a “handle” for his wife. You know there are places now where you can buy the lower part of the handle of a parasol and have it attached to any kind of a sunshade you like, and those handles may be of gold, silver, ivory, china, plain wood, carv- ed to the limit, or any other frenzy you like to indulge, and likewise they may cost you anywhere from $5 to $50. The outlay has only just commenced then. The frames are all alike, but the coverings take on the shades of the rainbow—one at a time. If the madam likes she has the foundatio made of her favorite street or carriags gown; then she covers it with lace an lisse, tulle and ribbon, Brussels net, passe- menterie, flowers and most anything else that her fancy dictates; the result is not always artistic, but you can be very sure when you run up against a parasol dressed up like that that it has cost an awful lot of money, and that is the main thing after all. Some of the early summer styles in dresses are very pretty indeed. Women seem to be going in for comfort more than in any season for some years, the styles all being loose in the waist, with the blouse effect. This kind of blouse nearly always has a fitted lining, but it is not made to fit skin tight, and therein lies the comfort. A re- markably pretty and rather odd gown that I saw at the modiste’s last week is made of rows of black satin ribbon in insertion; the slip that was being made to wear under it was of violet silk shaded a i i eee light | weight, joined by rows of black bourdon | 10H EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 26, 1894—-TWENTY PAGES. on a blue. Of course, I do not know what the cost of such a gown would be, but it was rich and handsome enough to have cost almost any sum; it has a crush belt and a big front bow of the silk at the belt and a collar of the same. The modiste said that there were to be other sli®s of bright colors made to wear with it, but they had not been selected ye he hat to go with the violet and black was a broad soft straw of violet a shade darker than the silk and had for its trimming a six-loop bow in | front that reached out nearly as broad as shoulders of the dress. It was caught in the center with a long jet buckle. Traveling and Visiting Dresse A handsome traveling gown for short trips is of Trappiste foulard—Trappiste 1s only the new name for a rich golden brown. The skirt is plain, and a short walking length. The coat, like the bodice, is full in the back, fits smoothly over the hips, falling longer on the right side, and has tows of the foulard plaited on the edge, with two rows on the right starting under bows of satin ribbon, and disappearing under the bodice skirt on the left of the front. The collar and upper front of the bodice are of violet foulard just matching the dash of the same color in the brown. The hat is a semi-walking hat, with garni- ture of violet and brown. | For a visiting dress nothing could be | prettier than one that has been constructed | for a young widow, who has laid aside het | 8ray garb and is now coming out in violet | and white. The gown is mauve serge, as | fine as silk, and has a plain band of wide j¢ream insertion around the bottom; the | front of the bodice is of puffed white crepe, and ro are the sleeves, the lower part being of the serge; over the shoulders is a de- mure little cape of mauve serge, running to points at each side of the waist and over- laid with lace; the same lace forms an overskirt front. The hat is a straight,white rice straw sailor, with biack velvet and black tips. A girl who will make you think of green trees and “summer winds a sighing” when she comes rustling along in her green gown has selected a fine quality of summer silk for her “robe of summer ceremony.” It is a bright green that would set your teeth on edge, if she were not so perfectly lovely in it, with her fair, fresh face and bright golden hair; there is a fleck of white in the fabric, and it is so fine that it falls in the softest of folds, so she had it made up with a lot of graduated ruffies on the front, and very full in the back. The most of the waist is covered up with a wide bertha of silk, and it is caught across the front with twisted white satin ribbon. The full, puffed sleeves have a fall of the silk half way fiom the elbow to the hand. The full blouse waist, with its ruffle at the bottom, is caught down by a belt of white moire rib- bon and a buckle of filigree silver. Of ecurse the prettiest hat for a gown like this bas a little brim; the one to be worn with it is white straw with pale green moire bows, with one white tip and one green. BELL BALL. pee ne Ae NS COURTING BY WIRE. A Telegraph Operator Wooes the Wrong Girl on His Circuit, Frem Donohoe’s Magazine. A telegraph operator in a Boston office once met with bitter disappointment early in his career by falling in love with a young woman at the other end of one of the old Western Union wires. She used to say sweet little nothings when a lull in the business gave her an opportunity to use the wire. The young man worked in the Boston office and had the reputation of being a “fly” sender and able to receive what he could send, an all-important factor in the “sizing up” of an operator. The woman was proud to have him say even “Gm” or Ge” (good morning or good evening) to her; and the other girls on the wire, with whom he never condescended to exchange even these ordinary salutations, were jeal- ous. As time wore on their conversations over the wire became longer and more fre- quent. Finally an invitation to come to Boston and visit one of the theaters was given and accepted. The Lothario of the wire was to wear a red, red rose in his but- ton hole,-a white straw hat with a blue band; she was to carry a small satchel of peculiar shape in one hand and a fluffy lace handkerchief in the other. The train arrived at the Eastern station on time and the satchel of peculiar design was sighted. It was, indeed, of peculiar de- sign—it was an old-fashioned. carpet bag, of a grayish green color, and considerably older thag the Morse alphabet. The girl was a sight that would have made Neil Burgess in the “County Fair” go and hide. She was fully forty-eight years old. Long corkscrew curls of a it era hung down over her shoulders like twists of molasses candy, and a smile ope up under the eaves of her sun-bonnet that would have = credit to a fissure in the side of Ve- sw She was extremely glad to see him and he, with the instinct of a true gentleman, tried to appear that he was just as glad to see her. He took her carpet bag and they boarded a car for the house where he was staying. There were many sly nudges and covert laughs at the tea table, all the girls and young men thinking the young operator was entertaining his aunt from the country. For the evening per- formance at the theater the giddy maiden fished out an awful bonnet from the depths of her carpet bag and slicked up her curls in the most approved fashion. The bonnet was a flower garden of itself, and the writer has the young man’s own words for it that she and the. bonnet attracted more attention than the play. The next day he sent her home, but ever after he wes careful not to allow himself to converse with any one on the wire ex- cept on business. Her Letter. sitting alone by the fire yr just as Icame from the dance, In a robe even you would adinire— It cost a cool thousand In France; I'm Di Is wasting an hour on you, A dozen engagements I've broken; I left in the midst of a set; Likewise a proposal, half spoken That waits—on stairs—for me yet. They say he'll be rich, when he grows up— And then he adores me indeed, you, sir, turning your nose uy; ‘Three thousand wiles off, as you “And how dé I like my position?" “and what do I think of New York?” “And now, in my higher ambition, With whom do I waltz, flirt, or talk?” “And isn't it nige to have riches, -And diamonds and silks, and all that?” “And aren't it a change to the ditches ‘And tunnels of Poverty Fla Well, yes—if you saw us out drivi Bach day in the park, four-in-hand— If you saw poor mama ‘contriving fo look supernaturally grand— If you saw papa’s picture, as taken By Brady, and tinted at that— You'd never suspect he sold bacon And flour at Poverty Fiat. And yet, just this moment, when sitting In the glare of a grand chande! In the bustle and glitter beiitting ‘The “finest soiree of the year”— In the midst of a gaze'de Chanberg, And the hum of the smallest of talk— Somehow, Joe, I thought of the “Ferry,” And the dance we had on “the Fork Of Harrison's barn, with its muster Of flags festooned over the wall; Of the candles that shed their soft luster And tallow on head dsess and shawl; Of the steps we took to one fiddi Of the dress of my queer vis-a-vis; And how I once went' down the middle With the man who shot Sandy McGee, Of the moon that was quietly sleeping On the hill, when the time came to go; Of the few baby peaks that were peeping From under their bed clothes of snow Of that ride—that to me was the rarest; Of—the something you said at the gat Ah, Joe, then I wasn't an heiress To “the best-paying lead in the state.” Well, well, it's all past; yet it’s funny To ‘think, as I stood in the glare Of fashion’ and beauty and money, ‘That I should be thinking, right’ there, Of some one who breasted igh water, And swam the North Fork, and all that, Just to dance with old Follinsbee’s daughter, ‘The Lily of Poverty Flat. But ees! what nonsense I'm writing! (Mama saya my taste still is low), Instead of my triumphs reciting, I'm spooning on Joseph—helgh-hot And I'm to be “finished” by travel— Whatever's the meaning of that 0, why did papa strike pay gravel In drifting on Poverty Flat? Good night—here’s the end of my paper; Good night if the longitude please— For maybe, while wasting my temper, Your sun’s climbing over the trees, But know, if you haven't got riches, And are’ poor, dearest Joe, and all’ that, ‘That my heart's somewhere there in the ditches, ‘And you've struck it—on Poverty Flat. —BRET HARTE. ——__+0+_____ A Magnificent Banquet. From the Boston Transcript. Baron Hirsch, the famous Hebrew finan- cier and benefactor, who has spent millions of dollars in aid of his co-religionists threughout the world, and in founding col- onies of Jewish immigrants in the United | States and Argentine Republic, gave re- cently, in London, a banquet which cost £1,200, or 36,000. There were present at the table sixty friends of the baron, most of financial pursuits, 4 whom were millionaires also and engaged in | Senora Sara Tells How It is Done in Englend. COST OF PRESENTATION T0 THE QUEEN The Value of the Services of a Chaperon. THE GOLDEN ENTRANCE Written Exclusively for The Evening St ARY IS GOING abroad, with a big “A.” Had you heard of it? I have, seven- ty times a day, since her doting uncle and aunt decided to take her. I have dined or Turkey, supped on China, and slept through picturesque descriptions of Switz erland for over a week now, and still the child is weaving fairy tales about this, her very first plunge into the big, busy world. I really do not blame her for her raptures; she was born south of Mason and Dixon's line and never was north of it but once in her life; she took one trip to New York two years ago, and to that time had imagined that she lived in the center of civilization. She has never been west of the Mississippi river, and the region of her experience repre- sents to her a whole world; so it is not to be wondered at that she is narrow in her ideas and conservative in her views. Pretty and sweet as a wild rose though she is, Mary is rather commonplace,because she is so bound down by custom and false notions of the importance of “blood.” An- cestors occupy a big place in her estima- tion, regardless of their prominence in his- tory, and official position ranks everything else; to tell the truth she is just a little bit of a snob and afraid to be natural un- less there is a precedent for it. Of course she has been spoiled, as only daughters always are, and association with official society and politicians hi given her a superficial knowledge of such things such as should warn others to “drink deep or taste not the Pierian spring,” ‘or she as- serts herself in a most amusing manner, making perfectly dreadful blunders with an aplomb worthy of a better cause. She has a lovely disposition, though, and is very attractive. I am delighted that she is to have an opportunity to see something of the world, though I really think that an American should know his own country thoroughly before going off to view and criticise other lands. The Education of Travel. I believe firmly in the education that one gets in traveling. If one can’t have book education and travel, too, I think that the traveling will be of the most benefit. The only way to broaden the judgment, strengthen perception, expand one’s knowl- edge and widen the whole mental horizon is to rub up against the world. You can bring a great deal of the world to you in books and pictures and people, but if you want to know ft thoroughly, seek it in the by-ways and hedges, as weil as in the mar- ket and drawing room. The narrow, con- tracted views of political and social reform- ers would undergo great and desirable changes if their promulgators were men of wider experience and broader knowledge of peoples and places by actual contact, in- stead of having only a theoretical acquaint- ance with them. Theories so often fail to hold water when the condition confronts one. A sparrow convention is not to be men- tioned in the same breath with the com- motion that this hastily planned trip has caused among the girls. They are all so delighted at Mary’s good luck—only one of them, Elaine, knowing just what she has ahead of her in a tour of the world—and they are all full of suggestions for her com- fort. She will have to economize, for the trip will extend to the “uttermost” parts of the earth, almost, and will cost a great deal, but the poor child’s economy would not go very far, I fear, if she had to de- pend on herself or her mother. Mary's mother ts a charming woman, but what she does not know about economy would fill a very large book, Costs Money to See the Queen. “Will you be presented, Mary?” asked Bobbie, when they spoke of the English end of the journey. Bobbie isn’t a bit snob- bish, but she thinks with hundreds of other girls that kissing royalty’s hand is next to being a seraphim, and she has some sort of a ridiculous idea that all one has to do to be presented, if one is a daughter of a Congressman, or a government official, is to call at the queen's palace and present one’s card, and England's sovereign will rush right down and greet her with open arms and the freedom of the royal pre- scrves. Her face was a study when Mary replied sadly that she could not afford a presentation, as it would cost so much money, time and trouble. Jennie looked up with an expression of horror. “Why, Mary! Can one buy a presentation, just as papa does an office or votes? That's just dreadful! Of course it is all right to buy an office ‘if one wants it very badly indeed, and they really come quite high sometimes, papa says, but society is quite different. I have heard that the queen was mercenary, but I didn’t know that one had to pay to meet her just like one pays to see the fat woman in the museum! That is worse than it is here. One can get to see even the President's wife if one can present the proper credentials long enough before hand.” “O! I didn’t mean that,” exclaimed Mary in dismay. “1 don't think that one could possibly buy one’s way to a presentation to the queen; 1 was thinking of the cost of the gown and the accessories. It would have been nice to be presented, you know, and mamma could have accomplished it through friends she has in London, but it would have taken so much money and more time than we can spare. After all, I'd rather be an American girl than a court belle,” rhe ecncluded bravely, and you could have learned a lesson in patriotism in the way those girls applauded that sentiment. “Does a presentation gown have to be different from any other Kind of a grand toilet?” asked Nora anxiously, as though she might have been contemplating perpe- "trating a presentation into English swell circles. “Of course it does,” replied Mary prompt- ly, delighted to display her erudition. “in the first place it must be extremely decol- lete; the lord chamberlain has to pass on that. ‘Think of having to ask a man if your gcwn ts low enough in the neck! That low- necked gown was my first stumbling block. Papa is the most accommodating creature, generally, but he is adamant where low-cut dresses are concerned. He will not let me wear anything but a medium low bodice, and insists on sleeves to the elbow; he is So old-fashioned in his ideas. Of course I obey him, but it ts not hard to do, since I am so thin that 1 would look like a fright in a low bodice. It is a great dedl more artistic to wear puffs of tulle and lace and make people think that you have charms that are worth seeing if you choose to un- cover them,” she concluded with frank philosophy, A Show of Necks, “Does every woman, old or ugly, stout or thin, have to wear a decollete bodice?” asked Bobbie, incredulously. “Yes, it is one of the rules for the court functions. Not only those who are pre- sented, but all the women who attend the presentation. When Queen Victoria was young she had mighty pretty shoulders and arms, and she liked to show them; she wanted her court to present a gala appearance on all occasions, so she issued an edict that all the women who attended the court functions should come in decollete corsages. She has enforced that order through all the years of her reign, and they say that the show of fat dowagers is some- thing awful to contemplate, when they get together in one room. The queen herself is as fat as any of them; you see I can j make a virtue of necessity, and say that pepa will not permit me to make what he calls a ‘holy show’ of myself as the rea- | son I will not be presented,” said this young “diplomatess.” i “IT have a friend who has been presented,” ‘PAYING FOR SOCIETY |: remarked Elaine, “and she says that it is not half as pretty a ceremony as the debut the accessories of wealth are in evidence. She thinks there is too much fuss and feathers about court presentations, and, says that it gets absolutely grotesque be- fore one gets through with it.” “My! I supposed it was as solemn as a funeral, and only a little less grand than a coronation,” was Nora’s somewhat hazy observation. “My friend, who saw the presentation of Miss Bayard, and who attended the Pa- triarchs’ balls in New York, said that in bil nema the balls are much the pret- fest.” “Tell us all she said about it,” demanded Mary eagerly. “I can’t a presentation myself, but I would like to hear about one.” A Royal Drawing Room. “I have her letter,” was Elaine’s reply, “and I think it would be better to read her description just as she wrote it, and she left the room, returning with the let- ter. “I will only read that portion that refers to the presentation. She does not say much about Miss Bayard’s gown, but describes the function in general. ‘I have been, for the second time, to a royal draw- ing room. By good luck I was a spectator when Miss Bayard made her bow to the queen. She had my sympathy, for I had been there myself, and knew the anxiety that possessed her soul while she was backing out of the presence of royalty, with her spinal column aching, and the tail of her gown—called a court train—in the hands of the ushers, who passed it from one to another as she bowed down the line, in mortal agony lest she step on an edge of it and precipitate herself in the arms of some member of the receiving party. She looked quite the typical American girl, in a becoming gown of white moire and cream lace, with diamonds, and her train, which was four yards on the floor, was fastened at the shoulders. It was of heavy white satin, lined with moire, and had ruching around the edge of the satin.’ ‘A presentation to the queen is not such a great thing, after all, Elaine. It can be bought, just as social honors in Washing- ton are so often secured. You have only to make known your wants in that direction, and for a “consideration”—I find that a “consideration” is quite as potent here as on American soil—you are introduced to some member of the court circle, who “is so fond of young girls, and, having none of her own, is willing, for a ‘consideration,’ to take charge of introducing them to the queen”—or the person who represents her; it is quite often the case that tiamlet is left out of his play—and then she pro- ceeds to investigate your financial condi- tion, and the “consideration” is made just as large as she thinks you will stand. You are then coached in all the English isms, and I think they have more fool ones—pa: don slang—than we ha and that seems useless, The Crush Awful, “Presentation at court is a distinction which every ambitious society woman de- sires, yet it will not open the doors of society here any quicker than if you came unheralded. You have got to have some- thing to recommend you other than your ability to be presented at the queen’s draw- ing room to be taken up by the swell set. The crush at these functions is disgraceful. An inaugural ball is heavenly bliss com- pared to the pushing, pulling, all but swear- ing, jam of women, in all the bravery of court finery, who sometimes reach the throne room with every inch of lace torn from their gowns, and bend before her majesty a thing of shreds if not of patches. A presentation gown is a costly garment, and its veriest detail is prescribed by the court chamberlain, who often decides at the last moment that the bodice is too high, the feathers in your hair not enough in evidence, your veil too short, your train not long enough, and you have to be remodeled before you pass him—oh, it is a bothersome business, I tell you. “You are coached in the proper way to back out of the “presence” by women who do nothing else, just as people in Washing- ton are coached to pass the civil service ex- amination. Your gown may be of any color you like, always light, of course. Young girls quite often wear tulle; but it is alto- gether too fragile for the mob that one has to encounter. The low bodice is round, and drops weil off the shoulders—this is by com- ind of the queen, who sticks to her coro- nation styles, though she looks funny enough, since she is nearly as broad as she is tall. The hair is done in loops that start at the top of the head, where they form a foundation for the three feathers, which must stand straight up, so as to be seen from the front; then they—the loops—are caught on down the back of the head to the neck, and the tulle veil Is fastened to them with small jeweled pins. There is ‘not much of the veil left to bother with by the time you get to the throne room. A Weary Wait. “When you reach the palace, the fun be- gins. There is as much red tape about get- ting In as there is about our War Depart- ment, and the crush of carriages is some- thing awful. You go up the grand stair- case, after you get to it, which is a work of time, and enter one of the salons, to await your turn, those who get there first hav- ing first chance. You pass from salon to salon, in line, just as you do at the White House, until you reach the picture gallery, which is the last one before the throne ‘room, and thi you are stopped to let down your gown, which to that time you have been carrying over your arm—when it was not twisted about some other woman legs. You are approached by two ushers, who shake you up and smooth you down, and spread out your train to its full width and greatest length—and, let me tell you, that is simply immense—then you pass into the throne room, just as you pass from the red room into the blue in the White House, your name being shouted out in truly Washingtonian style, and you are in the presence of England's queen—perhaps. “If not of the queen in person, it is one of her daughters, who represents her, and you courtesy and kiss the offered hand, try- ing not to stumble over your own feet and wondering how they have managed to grow to such troublesome proportions, when you feel the twitch on that four rds long train which tells you that the frst gentle- man usher—a row of whom stand exactly opposite the royal party or receiving line— has picked up the outspread dry goods, and it is time for you to pass on to the next one; your bow made, the second usher takes the train from the hands of the first, and you know that number three of the receiving party is ready for your awkward bow, and so they hand you on down the line; if you forget to courtesy the twitch on your train as it is passed from one usher to the other will tell you that a new person is before you who ex- pects your obeisance. You the Ushers, “ ‘When the last one bas been courtesied to the last usher will fling your train over yeur arm, and with that incumbrance weighting you down you begin the crawfish movement, which either lands you in the outer room or on the floor. There are in- stances of it being the latter, one young lady having the felicity to be precipitated in the arms of the Prince of Wales. You have to go through all this ceremony with the people treading on your heels almost as closely, barring the length of the train, as they do at a state reception at the White House. The receiving party stands in about the same relative position as Mr. and Mrs. President, and the ushers stand opposite them and far enough away to hold your train spread out at full length as you sidle down the line. The ushers and yourself have to work the thing in unison and per- fect time, or the first thing you know your shoulders are nearly pulled off of you by the yank the usher gives your train, be- cause you have gone too fast or not fast enough. “ ‘The gown for the auspicious occasion will not cost less than $150; then there are the jewels, carriages, flowers and the “con- sideration” and the lessons—which cost enormously. On the whole, I think if I had not been “presented” I would not be!’ “Can you really buy a_ presentation “I didn’t know that could be done.” “It is done, however. There are titled women of broken-down families who keep their heads above water by chaperoning, under the guise of guests, young women of all nationalities who go to London with plenty of money to spend amd no influence to get them into the gay society of the city; they have open to them a certain class of the best houses, and give their charges a great deal of pleasure, but it also costs a great deal of money. The girl dces there as she does here; she pays her chaperon a stipulated sum, and then pays for all the parties that the chaperon gives in her honor, all the carriages and inci- dentals of every kind. In return the chap- eron, who is usually the wife of an ex- official, or a woman of reduced fortunes, but unquestionable social position, gets about her charge the best unmarried men she can command and secures invitations to dinners, and exclusive houses are opened to her which no stranger could hope to enter on terms of familiarity such as the chaperon is greeted with.” “Oh, Elaine! do they do that here?” asked Bobbie, plaintively. “Why, I thought we were very exclusive.” “They do it everywhere,” said Elaine, who is very much more worldly wise than the other girls, “Washington society only young lady in this country, when all , sees a little more of this sort of thing than some of the other large cities of this coun- try. use of Its being the capital, and money can buy both official and social po- ition if it is only judiciously expended, and—you are careful not to get found out in your bargain; discovery means disgrace, of course. Sin, in the eyes of many, is not in the commission of the act, but in the being found out.” Then the girls went off to view a — love of a traveling toque that Mary just got. SENORA SARA, ——— CHILDREN’S SAYINGS. Some of the Quaint and Funny Things Which the Little Tots Get om. From the New York Tribune. Little Mary hes always been devoted to her Aunt May, and prays for her each night long and fervently. One day, how- ever, during @ visit to her aunt’s the child did something wrong and had to be pun- ished. When evening came and she knelt at her aunt’s knee to say her prayers it was evident that the sore spot was still there. “Bless papa and mamma,” began the childish voice, and then there was an ominous silence, after which the prayer Was concluded with no reference to Aunt May. “Now,” remarked Miss Four-Year-Ol4, | With flashing eyes, as she rose to her feet, “what do you think of that for a prayer?” Howard T—, who has lived all his short life in a city, was tuken recently to visit at a “real farm.” The child was in ecstasies, Every animal on the place was a delight to him, but his affections especially cen- tered about a Jersey calf. “I would like to buy it,” he said to the owner, would you give in exchange?’ “But what he was asked. “My baby sister,” replied the child, with ve Sement gravity; “we have a new baby early every year at Rever had a cairt™ “| CUFT Rouse, ani Edward Junior (aged five) is the son of the most devout of ministers. One day the minister’s wife was told that her little boy had been overheard swearing. Calling him to her, she told him what she had heard and asked him if it was true. “Who told you?” he demanded. e've “Oh,” she hi rather “. little bird AP pars = “Well,” responded the youthful impent- tent, “then it was one of those darned spar- Tows.”" Henrietta ington discov Henrietta—“Well, Columbus was the father of his country.” Her Cousin W.—‘No, it was put the other way Henrietta (cheerfully)—“But it doesn’t make any difference about the people, so jong as you know the facts!” The inborn pride of Chicagoans and their neighbors in their city and all that belongs to it, especially since the fair, is well il- lustrated by a remark made by a youngster in Evanston, IL, the other day. His moth- er overheard him talking with his little sis- ter and discussing great questions, as chil- dren do, with al! the gravity of his elders. Finally the little girl ed: “Hat where was the world made?” ~F an air of superior wis- answered: Yhy, don’t you know, Dotty? In Chi- cago, of course: ————+e+___ Changing Costumes. From Harper's Bazar. There is a world of comfort in the com- parative freedom which we now enjoy from the tyrannous rule of an absolutely rigid fashion, A generation or so ago, or even later, every one had to look like a stereo- typed edition of the first fashion plate of the season. To vary from the type, to vary from the prevailing color in which it was worn, was to be beyond the pale—dreadful fate!—and the utmost latitude was some slight difference in trimmings; and this va- riation, and the richness or cheapness of the material, made almost all the disfinc- tion there was in the dress of those who came out of the front of the brownstone dwellings and of those who came out of the back alleys, Those fashions were directed by the ca- price of the favorites about a throne. The ‘woman who had something to conceal con- cealed it, and all the world of women in Christendom must do as’ she did, whether they had anything to conceal or not; or else she had something to reveal, and the world of women must keep step and adopt her habit, whether they had anything to reveal or not. Now we are set free from the thral- dom of kings’ favorites; we acknowledge, Ro one exactly knows why, the authority of certain types sent out from from London, from Berlin, all more or less har- monious with each other, varying just enough to give freedom, and we adapt the type to our individual need and fancy, mak- ing still further variation, most usualiy pre- ferring it as we see it worn by some one who has an air and style of her own, so that on a base relating to prescribed shapes sll manner of modulations flourish, pre- venting the wearying of the eye with same- ness, and allowing for personal taste and choice. Perhaps we have never had a more grace- ful or proper shape for a short skirt than that which now prevails, allowing for the free movement of the limbs, sweeping off with its fullness behind, and supporting itself, so that while it presents long lines of grace it does not drag or receive the soil of the pavement. And in the evening gown, the large drooping sleeve has made any ex- tremely low cut to the waist seem incon- sistent and inharmontous, for without bare arms why bare the shoulders and breast? So oniy just enough of the throat and chest is bared to give the head its proper setting, a thing exceedingly well fitting to the pre- sumed modesty of the bud. Thus, while we have revived the voluminous sleeve of the time of the Stuarts, again of the Georges, again of fifty years ago, we have revived it with constant improvement, fashions, like other things, moving in a spiral, every — @ degree higher than the preceding round. Thus, perhaps in time we shall evolve the ideal dress, which will meet at once all the requirements of comfort and of a sense of beauty and fitness, and of that chic without which no dress quite fills the eye. Undoubt- | edly we shall always be, In a measure, de- pendent upon our. dress, for there is some truth in the old saying that fine feathers make fine birds. Yet even should a model dress ever be devised, we flatter ourselves that a fashion journal would still be requi- site to tell how to make it, vary it and beautify it. Recollecting the beauty of va- rious mediaeval costumes that did not change in a lifetime, it is evident that dress reed not rely upon constant change for its charm. Change may be confined to the or- hament upon a substructure that remains the same, and a woman, as we frequently see today, in the revival of old costumes from old portraits, may be lovely in the gown of her grandmother, J A Window Pastel. From the Indianapolis Journal. The Man sat at the window. It was easy to see that the world had deal kindly with The Man. The room was sumptuously fur- nished, and The Man was well groomed. The rays of the setting sun filtered into the rocm through the boughs of a budding tree, outlining on the tapestried wall the maiden-like contours of the young leaves in a group of dancing. elfiand sprites. Us- ing their wand with Nature’s impartiality, the magic rays tipped with gold the sca! tered gray hairs commingled in the locks that graced the temples of The Man. Tenderly, and with the reverential touch of one who is permitted to take in his hand a fragment of some sweet saint's robe, The Man held in his soft and tapering fingers lock ef hair. “Only a woman's hair, blond and silkily soft. For a long time The Man sat in silence, gazing at the little silken lock. Once he sighed, and passed his hand over the tress with a motion that the observer might have interpreted as a caress. The sun sank lower, till but a bit of red rim showed above the horizon, like the sleepy eye of a jaded debauchee. Twitter- ing sparrows filled the tree, and their shadows on the tapestry wall seemed the ce of hobgoblins. The Man looked out of the window to the west as the sun dropped behind a cloud as if it had been seized and dragged down to darkness, The eyes of The Man assumed far-away expression, his pupils dilating. ‘If that chambermaid,” said ‘don’t quit using my comb and brush, I'll get another boarding house, and that's all there is to it.” i ——_+e+_____ Dawson's Straight Blut. From the Indianapolis Jeurnal. Mr. Hungry Higgins looked over the fence and saw a sight that nearly paralyzed him. He looked again. Yes, it was too true. Mr. Dismal Dawson was sawing wood. “What does this mean?” asked Hungry. Mr. Dawson saw he was caught. So he straightened up and assumed an air of | righteous indignation. said he. “De boys didn’t treat me right in dividin’ up the beer las’ night, an’ I'm out on strike, see?” HOUSEHOLD HINTS Have a Day at Home and Carefully Observe It. CLEAN CLOTHES AND BABY'S HEALTR A Remedy for the Ardent Kisses of the Sun, SOME ARTISTIO IDEAS Written Exclusively for ‘The Evening Star. Re edges to the back pce I tile § a & 8 bf 5 $ L f | : FY} TH privileged come on any Gay, but they cannot if they visit you and find you are (nay do ant ox noe . * F ® i gs ci? § R . I know a mother who Lealth of her baby in her its clean clothes. The terward it is placed in its long dresses, starched till th raightened out as smooth slips, and there it ices pinioned down by its muscles growing action, and its blood sluggish, it is permitted to sit up, it is tied high chair, and its long on its poor little toes ull 2 5 . t Just a8 soon as the child kick and wants to get at its feet, it to be put in short clothes and put on floor, to work out its own salvation. muscles were given it to use, and it will them to the test if you will give ita The mother who thinks more of her baby's clothes than she does of its likely to have the clothes lef: eternally clean, and it serves Never send your visiting srets or acceptance of an invitation writ- ten on it. It is only in one may be curt; in polite society, there always time for elegant you should employ some of it in bo the civilities offered you by f- -~~ § + ee ‘Women who go into public places saturat- ed with perfumer always remind one of the drug store. Good toliet waters are permissible, but the ed by some make them Public, ‘ . . You could keep your sweeter if you would get your beds made in you leave the room. The the pores of the skin egress except into the bed clothing, consequently it is feverish ing by morning. This uncleanly persons any who are excessively neat, nervous person will give » j than one who is more you rise, throw the bed the foot of the bed, and let an hour anyhow; if possible, to the window and let the sun it till you get ready to the windows down : The prettiest toilet sets can be of dotted Swiss, it launders so me cushions and other linings of colored satine, and then cut erings to fit, making a go all around the scarf, over Pincushion, and the mats. fintsh is made of narrow a be bought for 2 cents a lnings t be in can be fastened to the pins, so that they will n and the effect is much prettier dead white linen that is sol . . If the baby is broken out is very restless, put a teaspoonful ing soda in a pint of water can bear your hand in, and cloth out of it and rub the With it; it may take third aj lays the itching. Be quite hot; just hot water most scalding temperature will answer, i > i H eye ini e i ay if azske ¢ : e [ E i oF i i 5 7 & The housewife who” has' dishes will not put them oven to fry and.sizzie full ticular purpose, and let me that the common yellow ware is the very best. When you wish to keep food hot put it in one of these dishes, and when you get ready to =< the gest “gt table dishes in a dishpan pour water over them. After they have been standing a moment lift them out and cry; you will find them just as hot as they had been im the oven hour, and no injury can be most delicate ware thus treated. 7. 8 8 If you buy a lot of postage summer rub the gummed sides well on the hair before you put them in your pocket~ book and they will not be so Hable to stick “ee @ If you have two children, one robust and strong and the other delicate and sickly, never let them sleep together. The stronger child will draw from the strength of the more delicate, and the effect would be dis- astrous. Neither should a young child sleep with one who is very much older. In fact, it is now an accepted theory that double ‘bedsteads are a menace to good health if occupied by, two persons. 8 If you have been badly sunburned just as soon as you can procure it apply to the burned parts a thick coating of white vaseline, which let remain for ten min- utes or more; then rub it off by applying a soft dry cloth gently; have a bowl of very hot water brought ‘to you and a big linen towel. Dip the towel in the water, which must be hot enough to steam, and almost bury your face in it, but do not touch the skin with it for some time; you should steam your face this way for fif- teen minutes, and by that time every drop of blood in your body will seem to be in your face. Then call for more hot water and_apply it in slow, gentle fashion to the skin for fifteen minutes. Then put on a | coating of the vaseline and lie down for half an hour; when you get up you will be fresh as a daisy and your face will not trouble you in the least. Of course the length of time for treatment will depend upon how badly you are burned. Rut en hour ought to fix you up all right. Apply vaseline again on retiring.