Evening Star Newspaper, June 30, 1894, Page 18

(Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. AVE YOU NOTICED the new rose fad? If not, lose no time in seeking out the pret- tiest maiden that you know, erd ask her to the park or to churen or the sum- mer opera—or some- where with you, it does not matter where—and you will learn in about five minutes what the “rose fad" is. It ‘takes one fair maid and one fair rose to Perfect the combination—of course, both are sweet. The rose must be a big one, and dong - stemmed—awfully long - stemmed. ‘About a yard is immensely chic for length, and it must have a lot of leaves on it, from ne end to the other, and if it has a bud or two, hardly half opened, which she pins “em you, {t adds to the charm of the thing "nd completes your enthrallment Of course “you” are a man, though one is not mecessary to make the rose fad effective. ‘The fair maid takes this long-stemmed rose in her hand—she does not wear a rose garden on her person any more—and starts out on her rounds. She may be going to market, though it is not at all unlikely that it Is to office her steps are turned. But it {s when she goes shopping or vis- iting that the rose looms up most promi- Mently. She sets her shoulders back, with her chest out, and leans slightly forward walks—and how she does walk! Her would make a professional biush. as etrides oe \Bhe takes the long-stemmed rose in her fight hand, usually grasping it about two- thirds of the way down, just as a dude “atches his cane, with the blossom to the front. As she walks she raises the ros? to jher face occasionally, to inhale its fra- )Srance, and the caressing tenderncss of her manner toward that rose will fairly |madden you. Then you go to say tender things to her, and she busies herself with ‘the foliage, so that you can't for the life of you catch a glimpse of her eyes or cheeks to tell how she {fs taking what you say. Bhe uses it to point out things that interest her, and fusses at the bark or thorns to fill up the pauses in the conversation. If you say risque things to her she taps you eprovingly with the rose, and if you par- icularly please her shs holds it sugges- Bively toward you, so that you may share = Chiffon and Lace. fts perfume with her, knowing that you ‘will jump at the chance to touch it to your Ups when it has so lately pressed hers, A General Utility Rose. In short, there is nothing picturesque or pretty that can’t be brought about with that rose. When she sits down in a low chair she rests the stem of the rose on the floor, and that brings the blossom close to her face, so that you get all tangled up in what you are saying and what you are thinking, ‘and you look at her, and the result is some- times embarrassing to you, but never to her; she ts always self-possessed; the rose makes her so. If you are not with her she plays with the rose just the same, tapping her cheek with :t as she walks, playing with it she talks to the chance acquaintance, coachman and snapping it gently, as the does his whip. “Where did the fad come from?” Quien gabe. From the stage, more than likely. Most of those daintily artistic ideas do orig- inate there. They seem extremely natural, et are the acme of studied art. Julia Mar- we was the first to use the rose here in this ™manner. She declared that a “rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” while Swishimg around with a big one in her hand The Sacque Blouse. to fill in the pauses, and to touch up her old rn ut it is perfectly evident that nothing but a rose world do for the business that it ha ned rose and a man t car the other night. py, and the girl was tired e rose was drooping head pt a little, and all three had evidently een on dmty for some hours, and were ready to re ¢ girl stood the rose up on her knee, and in nodding her sleepy head a thorn scratched her face. Sne petulantly it across her lap, with the rose on his and the end of the stem reaching across the lap of the lady next to her. The lady dropped her hand carelessly, and, with a pained “ouch,” hastily moved down an inch —the seats were crowded—and glared at the muid. Blushing, she picked the rose up and reversed ends. The man lost his grip on his cane, and sleepily reaching for it, drop- ped h's hand heavily on the rose stem. With @ smothered exclama: he yanked that Tose up, and in so doing struck the man to his left a stinging blow in the face. Apolo- gies. He held it stiffly in the air till sleep got the better of him again, and down came his hand, rose and all, on his thin summer | trousers. Tableau vivant! While rubbing the spot, and muttering naughty things in @ low tone, the conductor came pushing laid lay through the car, and jammed that poor Tose in between two fat men in the aisle, and they sprang apart with singular agility, and vigorous , but the rose was its own expiation! Its head dropped on the dusty floor, the stem was to: out of the window, peace settled her white wings, and when I left the car both man and maid were snoring. The Stylish Bathing Suit. Bathing dresses are now agitating the feminine mind, at least the mind cf the woman who is going to the seashore. Once upon a time a bathing dress was a matter ef small thought. The bathing was the thing sought and the robing for it a matter of secondary consideration. Now the batn- ing dress comes first, and unless it shows the latest cut and finish bathing will not be indulged in at all. Don’t flatter yourself that you can run to the seashore and rent a bathing dress for a song from among the “hand-me-downs” made in nondescript fash- jon that lie soggy, coarse and salty on the shelves at the bathing beach! You would feel like Cinderilia in rags at the prince's ball among the birds of gay plumage that flutter around the sand dunes, digging the toes of pretty bathing slippers in tne wave- washed ground and displaying wonderful vistas of shapely legs, uncovered arms and bared bust. Once the bathing dress was made of some neutral color, modestly long, correctly high and with unabbreviated sleeves. The favorite material was flannel, and it was worn without a sign of ys. You don’t catch a woman wearing any such looking thing as that now, not if she knows i it. The fin de siecle bathing dress is a sight. It is full skirted, it 1s short sleeved, it is abbreviated at both ends, and it runs races with the rainbow for colors, With about two laps in its own favor. It might do for a Black Crook bailet dancer, and it would serve Lote Fuller for a skirt dance if it were sly short. For forms the s] ot accordion plaiting seen recently. A just came to the knee, made of full accor- dion plaiting, which fills with wind and files up around the wearer’s head like an um- brella turned inside out the minute she gets into the water up to her knees, is not par- ticularly appropriate, and when its insigniti- cant waist is cut In a “V" back and front nearly two-thirds of the way to the belt line and the sleeves are only an apology, one be- gins to wonder with the little girl who was taken to an evening reception the White House—‘Mamma, why don’t the women get their clothes on? They ought to be ‘shamed to come out that way.’ Living Picture of the Nude. Frivolous things as they are, plenty of nice women are having their bathing dresses made in this fashion. A certain bride has two or three bathing dresses, but one in particular is too ridiculous for anything. As she is shapely as an houri, and does not ¢are who knows it, I pre- sume it is all right. This robe is made of Valkyrie Pink. «hite liberty silk; a nine-gored skirt, cord- ed with blue. It barely comes to the knees and the long full frilis of the Turkish trousers, which stop just below the knee, are of blue silk, with lace on them. The stockings are open work white silk, and she hes silk slippers. The waist is made just as V decolette as it can be and stay on her shoulders, and has a wide ruffie of blue silk falling over the short, very much puffed sleeves. Her trousers are held to her legs by silver garters, with rhinestone buckles, and her corseted waist is clasped by a blue silk belt and rhinestone orna- mented silver buckle. She has a handker- chief of blue silk, made into a Dinah tur- ban, with the tie on top. And in this thing she will go in swimming, for she can swim like a duck, and when she comes out of the water a living picture of the nude will not be in it with her, for the silk will cling to her body like a porous plaster. Serge makes. the most serviceable bath- ing dresses, next to light-weight flannel, which is really the ideal fabric. If you are sensible, whatever else you do, you will make your bathing robes high in the neck long sleeved. The skin blisters much sooner on the water, and when damp it will almost scar the flesh, it takes hold so. Material for Blouses. Blouse waists and broad-brimmed hats go hand in hand these days, but both are much more elaborate than they were once. The hats have regular flower gardens on them, and are not skimped as to ribbon. The waists are Pretty as silk and mull, crepon, chiffon and lawn can make them. and as comfortable Mother Hubbards, for, you know, the linings are not tight, though they have that appearance. One for a Yourg girl is of dotted wash silk, with lace and ribbon garniture. It is dainty enough for an evening waist, and yet not too dressy for afternocn or street. On a more matronly woman Is of Finck chi and jet, very much such a bodice as Mrs. SHE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JUNE 30, 1894—TWENTY PAGES. Stevenson wears to afternoon >ffairs some- times. It has a yoke of jet>1 lace, und the big sleeves and the lower part of the waist are made very full over a tight silk founda- lon. A charming half sacque blouse is made of flower-sprinkled organdie. Ir has long, full sleeves, with lace ruffles falling over the and caps of lace on the shoul- ders, and yoke of the same. The lace is put almost without fullness down the front of the waist, and forms a ruffle that falls from under the belt. For a visiting dress of taffeta silk noth- ing prettier than the design I saw last week could be suggested. The skirt was made moderately full on the old four-gored pat- tern, and without trimming. The waist was joined at the belt to a long jacket skirt, which was also without trimming. Over the sleeves and down tie front were ruffles and streamers of lark green velvet ribbon. and knots of the same held the gray chiffon in at the belt line. ‘The ma- terial was the very popular pin check of black and white. BELL BALL. —_>—__. MENTAL REST IN PHYSICAL WORK. Emperor William Rides a Horse— Lawyer Jerome Hides a Bicycle. From the New York Sun. Lawyer Jerome, who is a partner of Mr. Goff's, adopts the same method of secur- ing rest as the Emperor William indorses. The majority of men, when they are worn out with mental work, believe in a warm bath, a cool room, and a large and compos- ing period of sleep. The Emperor of Ger- many hes never been able to discuss this theory with patience. He works consider- ably harder than anybody else in Germany, at times, and when he has been up late at night, traveling continually, or poring with- out cessation over state papers or some complex political question, he jumps on a horse and rides for fifteen or twenty miles as hard as the horse can go. On one historical occasion, just after his father’s death, the young emperor, who hed not been tn bed for two days and nights, rode thirty miles before breakfast, and came back to the palace, his horse completely spent and covered with foam, and his face almost hagyard from the ex- ercise. Then he took a cold bath, put on a fresh uniform, and called in his ministers for another day's work. Mr. Jerome does not ride a horse, le. He work D or 7 o' then goes home to dinner. After rest he puts on his bicycle togs and rides far out into the annexed district at high speed, getting home at about 10 o'clo thoroughly worn out physically, but in cap- ital form to take up his lega) work again. This carries him well along into the night, the exercise serving in lieu of the cus- tomary sleep. but —-2ee. THE DAY OF REST. What It Should Be Like in the Home Nest. From the Philadelphia Times. In many homes Sunday is planned and worked for with such ardor that when it does at last come around a weary house- keeper sees no pleasure in the absolutely neat details of her home and the choice edibles prepared for the three meals to be eaten on that day, and with aching bone she contemplates sorrowfully the new and arduous work of Monday, for the ini- tial day of the week on which labor is per- mitted is always the most trying of the whole six.. It is well to plan for a day of rest, but 40 not overdo the matter. The bright, sweet- contented face of the woman who contr've: to make her family comfortable on this day of rest exerts an influence that will certain- ly bear weight of a more spiritual nature than that oppressively high moral tone that makes Sunday in some houses a day to be dreaded as a horrible nightmare to be un- dergone, but from which to awake !s bliss. In most families breakfast is served late, dinner following at 2 o'clock, with a light evening meal. The house that employs one servant cannot expect to have tl single aid with them always, and “Bridget Sunday out” means that the famliy must turn in and do their share in the matter cf housework. This duty can be made one that will be anticipated rather than dread- ed if the Sunday night tea is converted into | a sort of indoor picnic, every one, down to the wee son and daughter, takiv's part in its preparation. The chafing dish docs duty in this line, and, despite the fact that | the day must of necessity be more or less attuned to the solemnity which js its due, very pleasant, happy rememb:ances can have their birth in the Sunday night gath- ering if only the proper spirit is brought to bear upon it. ++ The Lady's Maid, From Demorest’s Magazine. To think that fifty years ago a lady's maid was a rare bird in New York, where nowadays the life’s happiness of many women depend on whether they are well “maided” or not! It Is rather interesting to learn that in one of the Vanderbilt houses at Newport, where every summer smart “house-partiee in regular succession are entertained, a whole corridor in one wing is set aside for the accommodation of visiting ladies’ maids. There ts a suite of charming little bedrooms all daintily fur- nished in maple and dimity, a cozy sitting room and perfect tathroom, all set aside for the maids’ enjoyment and comfort. A general impression, under which the women of simple manners labor, is that the position of maid to a rich leader of fashion is a good deal of a sinecure. In some re- spects it is, for beyond doing the very choicest laces occasionally the maid of a rich woman is forbidden to do anything that will redden or coarsen her hands or disarrange her dress her life is not easy. Sometimes she assists at a half-dozen changes of costume a day, and she is responsible for the condition and whereabouts of every article and orna- ment of the tollet. When ehe sends her mistress down to the carriage, bound for a ball, dinner, shopping or calls, every smallest detail must be perfect, every but- ton solid, fresh handkerchiefs in pockets and cards in their case. Sometimes she sits up until after midnight for three and in succession anid must be bedside in perfect trim next morning, however suon caprice may have Prompted madame’s call. She often has to nurse indolent, fretful mistresses through imaginary and tedious illnesses; and one poor creature, whose employer was a victim of nerves, slept every night tr a room ad- joining the hypochondriac, with a rope round her waist and one end of it resting on a chair at her employer's bedside. At any hour of the night a rude jerking liter- ally dragged her from her slumbers to some need of the fanciful lady--who paid the maid well, however, for the life of real torture. ———_+-e+___ An Armless Nimrod. From the Philadelphia Record. An armless Nimrod 1s the wonder of the people and the envy of all the sportsmen of Bucks county. He is John Simon of Zion Hill, and his prowess is something marvelous. Simon's arms were ground off above the elbows in machinery a few years ago, but his love of hunting spurred his | ingenuity, and he overcame his seeming in- surmountable obstacle. He straps his single-barrel breech-loading _hammerless gun to his right arm, and when he sights game he swings the piece over the stump of his left arm, takes quick aim and fires, generally with telling effect. His mode of loading 1s as unique as his shooting. He carries the shells in his hat, and when he wants one bows low, drops his hat on the ground, pulls out the empty shell with his teeth and in a similar manner loads, then pushing his head into his hat to recover his head. Despite his affliction, Simon has done some of the best shooting In Bucks county the past year, his record standing: Sixteen opossums, five pheasants, five dozen black- birds, thirty-seven rabbits and twenty-one quail. ——__-+e-+____ The Joan of Arc Crase in France. From the London Daily News. ‘An enterprising manager of a small pro- vinclal traveling company in France has been reaping a golden harvest out of the present excitement about Joan of Are, by playing an old piece of which the Maid ef round about Orleans. The popular enthu- siasm, however, has had its inconveniences for one member, at least, of the company, and that is the actor who had to play the part of Cauchon, by whom the Maid was condemned. Not content with hissing the wretched man inside the theater, the popu- lace have pursued him Into the streets. He has been positively afraid to venture abroad, for his appearance in public has been the signal, not only for hoots and yells, but for volleys of stones. The un- fortunate man has been obliged to call the attention of the poilce to the matter in some of the towns visited by the company. but on the whole | Domremy 1s the central figure, in places | 'UNTRAINED WIVES The Woes of a Petted Darling Left Without a Servant. THE ORNAMENTAL VS. THE OSEFOL | Daughters Who Grow Up in Ignor- ance of Housekeeping. ea cies HOMES OF POOR MEN Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. FEW MORNINGS ago I went to call on a young matron in whom I am _ very much interested. 1 knew her intimately before her marriage and I once knew her mother quite well. Anna Hunt was something of a study to me when we were in school together, and I never quite lost sight of her, though | our paths nave never lain in quite the same Cirection since. She was a girl of splendid mind, but actually too lazy to retain an idea uniess it was presented to her orally. She simply would not read her lessons over, but | 1f she could lounge in her chair and toast {her feet in winter or fan herself in sum- |Miez, and induce one of the girls to read or | talk over the lessons, she would come to the | class with perfect recitations. It was such | peculiar trait that I could not but remem- | ber it. She was a large, showy girl, very ng fond of dress, and was as particular about her person as she was careless about her studies; she would have fine clothes, no mat- ter what happened, and she would secure comforts some way, not clways with a strict regard for the rights of others, yet he was liked by everybody, because she! was thoroughly good natured. She was too lazy to get angry, I think. She married, almost on leaving school, an active, energetic business man, as exactly her opposite as could be imagined, but one with wealth enough to keep her in the style she adored and with sutticient executive | ability to answer for half a dozen. The match was a uine days’ wonder, because of the difference in temperament. We forgot all about it when the principal actors ais- appeared from the horizon. Twelve years later I met Anna here in Washington. she had not changed in the least; she was just | 48 averse to activity as ever, and, in her Siow, languorous way, was just as charming as 1 remembered her to have been when we | Sirls used to fug for her at college. She had one daughter, a girl of ten, she told me, and trom that moment I was possessed with a desire tu see that girl, 1 have an odd sort of liking for the study of “types” in the human iamily, and 1 could not heip wonder- {uy What woulu result urom # union of the Kid 1 have mentioned. Lacked nome Training. Anna Hunts daughter, 1 rounu, nad ail | of her mother # good traits and her fatner’s aS we, With mot much tat us (ne bad ones of ener, She was @ preity child, weulie and loving, vrignt as could ve, but reuceat, (uli of ambition and energy about Bnyliiug that pleased ner, DUL as purpose- seed 4S @ praime dower. She did a greac many Uunys nat girls usually do at ov muca more advanced age, and aid wem Weil, Bue coum pay ob the plans, cau- Oruider, Siy, CuNverse IM Loree saaguages jAtu Venaved Win We most perece pro- | peety—uus utue maluea of teh, but it Was iu aus’ IMOOrn, Tor she Brew up as uu- |Giscipuled as a Weed. mer rrenca nurse and German governess were excellenuy CHvsen Companions ivf & grt Whose muuer Was a woiuan of the world, With no luca er moral responsibuity. phe was not um- moral, dear me, no. but she was what was quite as bad. She seemed to think that aii that was required of a mother was Ww Hee | that her offspring was kept warmly clothed, Biven abunaance of foou, as much educ. uon as possible, all the accomplishments that she ueveloped a taste ror, and for tne rest, be kept out of ner way. It was against her principles, such as she had, to be worried with details. Women like Anna Hunt are numerous, you meet them every day. It is not the fault of such women us she that the world does not grow worse every minute. Weil, Netta, Anna’s daughter, grew up, | received an excellent education, graduated with a flourish, and after a br.cf reign in the social world married * covernment clerk, There was the us biare of trumpets over it, with everything that goes to make a swell wedding, then came the prose of life. Anna and her husband went to another city, and Netta and hers began housekeeping in a pretty little home which they were buying on time. This home Anna furnished; and she did it in the style to which her daughter had been accustomed at home, without regard to the fact that she would have to live very quietly, with only one servant, and that of the one thing needful for a house mother, a knowledge of housework, Netta was as ignorant as girls of her class always are. Ignorant of Housekeeping. I remember wondering curiously, the first time I called there after Netta got settled, if she would ever be able to manage a house herself, for I knew how utterly she was unfitted for such responsibility, and a feeling of anger came into my heart against the mothers who permit their daughters to grow up perfectly ignorant of the duties in- cumbent upon a woman who aspires to wifehood. It is a crime against humanity a girl adrift on the sea of life with ledge whatever of how to so steer il craft that she may escape the sands and shoals of unhappine: come to one who has no chart to sail by. If Netta had had her mother’s wealth at her command she would have weathered the gale, but she was the wife of a poor man, and one whom the exigencies of poli- tics threw out of office this spring, hence my fear for her future, and this moralizing. My ring was a long time unanswered, and just as I was about to leave the door was opened, and Netta’s pale face peered out at me. She was glad to see me, and held out her hands with a pleased little cry. “Next to my mother, I have needed you, this morning, or some one who will me open my heart to them,” she said as she led me into the back parlor. “Don't look around you,” she went on with a rueful emile, “until I have told you all my trou- bles. Isn’t this an awful place? I am ashamed of it, and I would lke to im- prove it, but I don’t know how. Do you know,” ‘she burst out almost angrily, as she laid my hat and parasol on the piano, already piled perilously full of “traps,” “do you know I think a mother who lets her daughter marry before she ts fully in- structed how to conduct a home, and to know how to keep house from largest to smailest detail, is guilty of a crime?” Servants for Everything. My very thought! But I didn’t say any- thing. I saw that the child’s heart was full, and that she was near breaking down, so I mechanically began folding papers and bits of fancy work, closing books, and put- ting In a package the cards that were in- discriminately scattered on the table by which I sat. “It isn’t right to think the thoughts about one’s mother that have been rankling in my heart for the last w she went on as she sank Into a chair; “but I do think it 1s wicked and un-Christlan to let one’s own daughter run the risk of spoiling not only her own life, but that of others, as well. I ought to have had a little sense myself, but you know we never had much of a home life, and with servants to do everything but thinking for me, and per- fectiy willing to do that if called on to, and paid enough money for it, {t 1s not much |wonder that I am an ignoramus, is it, Sara?” still smiling, though through tears by this time. Little by Httle I learned all the troubles, and they were not light ones that seemed to be settling down about Netta. With her husband out of office their small savings were in @ fair way to melt away, and in the end the home might have to be sacri- ficed. It was with intense satisfaction that I heard Netta say with a great deal more |enthusiasm than most women of her rear- ling generally express when disaster comes, that if it were not that her husband was so patient and helpful she would never ‘get through in the world. 1 regret to say that very few men are any better prepared at first for taking care of a family than the girls. They know, however, that the bread and butter getting devolves upon them and learn earlier in the struggle. If they had the proper kind of wives it is altogether probable that there would be a cases of “incompatibility” up in the courts. “Robert did not want me to discharge our one servant,” said Netta, “but she was a shiftiess creature, at best, and we need to save at every turn until Robert gets on his feet. I-oh, Sara, I didn’t know how per- fectly ignorant I was vittil I went down into the kitchen and faced that awful range;” and here Netta stopped to take a laugh at herself. How it rejoiced me to hear it; a woman who can laugh at her own blunders has good stuff in her. imple Whea One Knows How. “I never made a fire in my life, and I didn’t know the first principle of making one. I had the headache, and it was late, and so hot. Nora had left all the dinner dishes unwashed, and the flies were fairly swarming. Robert could not wait for breakfast, because he had an engage- ment down in the city, so he went away not knowing the condition of things in the kitchen. Sara, for half an hour I cried so hard I could not do anything. The Red sea couldn't have looked more for- midable before its waters divided before the children of Israel than the work before me in that kitchen. I burned up all the news- papers in the house in a vain attempt to start a hard coal fire with them. When Robert came home he showed me that one must clean out the grate, and exactly how to pile the kindling and paper and pour on the coal. It was such a simple thing that I was ashamed that I didn’t know how be- fore. When I could not rt the fire I concluded to wash the dishes anyhow. I thought that simple enough. It was worse than the fire. I tried them without soap at first. We had a lecture on dainty house- keeping one evening in the last year at school, and I dimly remember that the pretty lecturer said that soap was so in- jurious to the hands and wae utterly un- necessary. Water, plenty of water, poured directly on the dishes, then lift them, one at a time, into a dripping pan, and pour more water over them, and lift them into another pan to dry, was about the formula. I tried it! Sara, they were simply awful! I had murder in my heart as I thought of that eo and the woman who deliv- ered “But she meant hot, boiling water,” I could not help interjecting. “If your dishes are not very greasy you can follow those instructions Hterally, only I prefer to dry the dishes on a towel,” I added. I believe she did say ‘hot water,’ said Netta, after a short pause. “I forget the one thing needful, didn't I? Well, told you I was a simpleton. I used lots of soap finally, but those dishes were so rough that that we get some sandpaper and smooth them off. I had to let the pots and go; they simply refused to come c! though I wore my finger-nalls to the quick = them. How do you manage them, ra? I told her my plan was to fill them with water the moment I emptied them, and set them on the back part of the stove to heat slowly till 1 wi ready to wash them. Then they are apt to be free of whatever clings to the sides, and a scrape or two of a big oyster s! will finish the worst part of the cleaning. Soap and water, a rinsing and then placed on the ve to dry out does the work with but little trou- ble, I assured her. How to Sweep. “It sounds very simple,” she sighed, “but I am afraid I would blunder somewhere. And how do you sweep?” she continued. “I thought that would be easy enough, but I blistered my hands the first three min- utes. See? And such a looking place as it was when I got through. The dirt went back under the plano and the couch and the sideboard, and what didn’t go there flew up in the air. I have seen our servants sweep at home, but the horrid dirt didn’t act as though possessed of a demon. I have not tried it since, for Robert could not in. struct me, and I'm too proud to ask any- body el: This room has not been swept and it isn’t fit for respectable in. Is there any particular formula for sweeping, Sara?” I had to laugh at Netta's comical look of despair, despite the pathetic side that was showing through her recital. Then I told her as concisely as I could how to sweep with the least trouble and best results. It is odd how few people really know how to sweep, even among the thousands who do {t every day. My mother, who was one of the most capable housekeepers of the time, and housekeepers were more capable then than now, for they didn’t leave everything to a servant, always made me tie something around my head to protect my hair, the first thing. I had a sweeping cap after a time; the fine dust that flies when one is sweeping is extremely hard on the hair. Then I had to wear thick gloves and take out of the room to be swept every chair, table, rug, footstool and everything else that would go out of the door easily. Then the curtains were shaken and pinned up off the floor, and the windows thrown wide open so that the air would circulate and carry off the dust. I had to sweep with long even strokes, keeping the broom well on the carpet, never lifting it suddenly, as that would throw the dirt in the air. She would not have anything put on the car- pet to “take up the dust” like dampening the broom in water or sprinkling tea leaves about or damp bits of paper. She thought such things injured the carpet. clean good broom and plenty of “elbow” grease was her remedy for a “cluttered” up room. The dust and dirt was always to be taken up on a dust pan at the end of each width of carpet, which must be swept its length and never crosswise of the breadths. : A Good Aifrin; After finishing the sweeping the room was to be left to air for ten minutes, then the pictures and furniture remaining in the room were to be dusted with a cloth, carefully shaking it out of the window often, so that none of the dust was left to float around the room. Then each piece of furniture was to be beaten and dusted before being brought back. After that process my mother’s rooms smelled as sweet and clean as though she had just furnished them new. A vast difference from the odor that greets you like the smell from a moldy cellar when you opea the front door of many houses, whose mis- tresses think themselves “neat.” “I know I can follow those directions,” said Netta slowly, “but I am afraid the elbow grease will have to be given time to develop. What has been done can be done again. I am not as old as Portia was, so I am not erhamed to confess that, like her, ‘I am an unlesson’d girl, unschool’@, un- practiced; Happy in this, she is not yet so old But she may leern; happier than this, She is not bred so dull but she can learn; Happiest of all, in that her gentle spirit Commits itself to yours to be directed.’ Don't desert me, please, in my hour of trouble. I feel so much stronger now than I did an hour ago. I have learned two very essential leseons this morning. How to wash dishes and how to sweep and dust. Knowledge is strength—no, ‘power,’ is the way Bacon puts it, isn’t it? Do you remember ‘Meditationes Sacrae,” where he says, ‘Nam et ipsa scientia potestas est?” Of course I didn’t; I know even less about dead language than Netta does about dinner getting. But I didn’t have to stop to explain that; she gave me no time. “Think of my wasted years, Sara!” she went on, a little sadly. “I am a finished musician; it is not egotism for me to say so, for I have the opinicn of men high in the profession. Yet my knowledge would not buy me a loaf of bread if I was hun- I do not know the first element of hing the art; I did not learn it with y such end in view. I can conjugate weep’ in seven languages, yet cannot do it in one. My embroidery is a ‘stitched poem,” as it has been described, and yet if I were to want to do that for a living I could not earn my salt; I'm too slow at it. I dance divinely, I am told, but I couldn’t teach a step to save my soul. Accomplishments in Abu ce. “History, Mterature, mathematics, paint- ing, tennis, swimming, bowling, fencing— I am up in all of them, rather better than the average, in fact, but I seem to have had @ natural talent for picking things up, and couldn’t teach the rudiments to a child unless I went through a severe course of study. I was educated for society. Every art or grace of which I am mistress was destined to gild and garnish me for the admiration which my mother was pretty re I would command. Nobody seems to have thought that I might possibly go the way of most of my sex and ‘all in love with man. A poor ma thet. It is the un- expected that happens. It has happened. My mother—somebody—ought to have told me that I was making a g ave mistake in burdening a young man who had his for- tune to make and fame to win with as worthless a piece of furniture as myself. “I wonder that he did not think of it himself; but, poor fellow, the hollow shams of the life that we lead leave small chance for men and women to know each other until it is too late to adjust matters out- side of the divorce court. Here I am at the beginning of a new existence, having lived | ; 7 jRearly a third of my life, and yet, as 1 have demonstrated to the sorrow of myself j#ud the discomfiture of my husband in | the last week, I am as ignorant of the | rudiments of the work I have elected to do as a toothless baby. It ts not my fault that I am ignorart, but my misfortune. No- body ever toli me that there were things that I did not know, and it was not until I began to feel uncomfortable because of {the sorry service rendered by my one eae that I waked up. School for Young WE “I am like a person walking in the dark now, but after while I shall see more piain- ly than ever before, and—Sara, when I get = and fat and philanthropic, I shall found @ school for the education of young wives. | There are educational concerns for every | other ism on earth, I think, but that, and—” | but it isn’t much use to go on telling what | else Netta said. The mothers who need to | Profit by the fearful arraignment will not j heed it. They will go on rearing pretty j toy daughters to spoil new homes, and | make other lives wretched, just as Netta | might have done, had not she been gifted with indomitable will and much force of character. 1 spent the whole long day with | jher, and a wearier or a happier woman | ever donned a white dress to greet her | | husband than I left resting on the couch j in a spick and span back parlor when I} | tcok my departure. | “And you are sure you will come and tell me how to prepare dinner dishes for sum- mer eating, so that I can avoid the heat | of the stove in the hottest part of the | | day?” she asked eageriy, as I started for | | the door, and I promised. I will take her | to market and teach her how to select, and after she has bought her fruit in Italian, | her meat in German, onions in Spanish, cheese in Swiss, and flowers in French, I will show her in plain United States now to prepare these for her American hus- band, who would starve to death if order- | ing his food depended upon knowledge of j any other language than unadorned Eng- lish. SENORA SARA. pcecneiecunine WHY NOT, LADIES? | Why Not Wear Knickerbockers When Bicycling ?—An Awful Costume. From the New York Sun. There does not seem to be any particular | reason why women should not wear knick- erbockers and stockings when bicycling, | since they have for many years worn the | tightest of bathing costumes, including | stockings, knee breeches and sleeveless bo- @ices, making a liberal exposure of the neck in the surf. The clinging nature of the material of which the bathing costumes | are made reveals every line of the figure of | the wearer. Yet the women never seem to j uti d modesty when Ihated to touch them,and Robert sugwesced | tinct in tiie ‘ashton et th attired in this fashion. They bathe with men, loll about the beaches and submit to the closest kind of scrutiny without any hesitation. The bicycle dresses, which have recently been adopted, are infinitely more modest than the bathing costumes, and as the women are moving most of the time, when in sight of the public, and not lolling about for the inspection of every one, as | they do on the beaches, the effect is far | less starting. The consensus of opinion | is that the bloomers which the bicycle wo- | men have adopted, and which are seen in the park occasionally, are remarkably be- | coming. | A rather stout-looking woman passed up | 7th avenue yesterday,wearing heavy bloom- | ers made of the material which men occa- | ionally use for covert coats. They were baggy and voluminous, and were fastened by a strap below the knee, but fell in folds over the boots of the rider. She wore belt and loose blouse waist, with enormous puffed sleeves, while a bicycling cap was settied well over her eyes. It must be con. fessed that the outline of the woman wi decidedly grotesque, and a curious crowd aficr her as she sped up the street. She locked like nothing ei: that has ever {ved of by mortal man, but she in the consciousness ‘that she form,” and most women | would rather be this than be President. ———+e-— CLEANING FURNITURE. j | | It is Not Good to Use Ordinary Soap | and Water. From the Ladies’ Home Journal. It is customary in some households to Wash the furniture with Soap and water. | Such a method may be entirely safe when practiced by careful persons. As the aver- age maid is likely to treat a valued Vernis | Martin cabinet with the same consideration | accorded a common floor, it is well that | the use of soap and water by her in connec- tion with furniture should be forbidden. | ‘When soap is used for furniture it should be of the best quality, having but a small amount of alkali in its composition, and | the water used should be lukewarm, ap- plied with a soft cloth an& quickly wiped | off. particularly from all corners and crev- | ce Dark mahogany, which Is now so fashion- able, is particularly sensitive to soap and water, arising from the fact that the color- ing matter which operates to darken the wood through the action of light is an acid, | so that when the alkall of the water is per- | mitted to remain upon it it will, in reach- ing the acid, for which it has affinity, de- stroy the polished surface. Raw linseed oil and spirits of turpentine, in the proportions of two-thirds ofl and one | of turpentine, is the model furniture reviv- er. It is what professionals rely on; as a rule they use no other. The woodwork | should be first carefully wiped off with a dry, soft cloth, and the dust thoroughly re- | moved from corners and carvings. The best article to accomplish this is a large paint brush, usually called a painter's dust- er. The of! may then be applied with a smaller brush, wiping off with a soft cloth and rubbing thoroughly dry. It will be found that dents and scratches lose their Prominence under this treatment; should this method be pursued regularly there will be no difficulty experienced in having furniture retain a fresh appearance. When a piece of furniture is very badly @efaced and dented it should be intrusted to some good repairer, who may sometimes find it necessary to scrape off the old finish entirely, in order to make a satisfactory piece of work. When the wood is slightly dented one may sometimes overcome the trouble by st ing the indentation with a hot iron and a wet cloth, afterward mak- ing a small pad of musiin and rubbing over the surface some thin shellac, just adding a touch of oil to make the work easier. Scratches may be treated in the same way. — Names for Gowns. From Demorest’s Magazine. Distinctive names for one’s gowns ts not exactly a fad yet, but may become one, | and bas certainly more to commend it than many of the fads of the day. You see, it} simplifies dire:tions and explanations vas?! when you have only to say to your maid: “See that the ‘Scotch Mist’ ts ready to wear tomorrow ev, get to put a fresh balayeuse in my ‘Helio- trope Symphony,’ for I shall wear it to| Miss C.’s wedding on Thursda If you} are devoted to one color, as many women | are, it saves such an expenditure of words to thus designate your differsat toilets, which are otherwise hard to distinguish. One woman who wears black entireiy has “Accordion Rav a Rabe” Ethiopia.” A long-haired camel's hair gown is called “The Hairy Ainu;” luxurious fur-trimmed carriage gw “The Magyar;” two yachting gowns « distinguished from one another as Marine” and “The Flying Dut a very elaborate creation for garde is appropriately named “Fass and ers.” Poetical as well as humorous have a safe outlet here, and the matd is greatly ass! in her labors. A filmy, billowy white evening gown of plaited tulle over satin sugges’s a “Snowdrift;” an in- | describable one of pale blue spangied crepe, “A Summer Night,” while a trig tailor gown is “Spick and Span.” Fitted for It. ‘What are you going to do with your son when he gets out of college?” Potts.—“I think some of sending him to school. Fall Styles for "94. From Fitegende Blaetter. | reparable injury can be done a child's | day. | five gallons of clean water, HOUSEHOLD HINTS Sensible Suggestion, Likely to Sweeten Domestic Life, PROTECT BABY'S EYES FROM SUN GLARE The Appearance of Old Age and the Tendency to Fatness. COOL OFF HEATED ROOMS ‘Written Exclosively for The Evening Star. There are days in every mother’s life | when she has “nervous spells,” as she often calls them, when the whole world seems to be out of tune and creating discori. Those ere the days when the ones of the family will try to make pleasant for her, until she feels better, the quivering nerves have gained usual tension, All fiesh is grass, told, and flesh, like grass, wilts if the atmospheric conditions are no one ts able to account for these phases of human nature, but it is that both men and women have and bad days, and wives and hi should have sense enough to overlook little petulances and unkind speeches by each other when one is suffering an attack of nerves. One of the in the world for husband and low is to steadily refrain from angry at once. Of course this doxical, but if the strongest controversy comes, as come lives of the best conditioned world, refrain from angry words un! passion or fretfulness of the other has sided, there will never be any serious rows in that family and no divorce case. 72 8 ew Don't coax children to eat “hearty” food. if a child really wants potatoes and gravy it will ask for them; and if it does not you can be pretty sure that its appetite is not equal to so strong @ diet. Childhood’ 's ways are but Eee 8 E if Hl one n j Ess FEE of it. er If you have a sinking sensation of the stomach on rising take the juice of one lemon in a glass of fresh water, well sweet- ened, before dressing yourself. It will gen- erally act as a tonic and brighten you up in a few moments. It is considernd good to relieve heartburn also. * 2 © © Praise your wife sometimes. She works hard enough as a general thing, with smail compensation and less cheer than any other member of the family. You like to be told that you can do your particular kind of work better than anybody else can, so why should you withhold the same merited praise from the woman who makes and keeps your home bright for you? ” "+ ive your birds a bit something fresh Cabbage, of green things are to you. Never hang your bird ina Cones or = breeze. . It is never a plan to work in the kitchen or about the house in a good dress, but sometimes, where a woman is her own maid of all work, she has to do this or entertain callers ‘hich, iy wish to have on when guests of importance happen in. A kitchen apron, anything as heavy, Make them up exactly as you do the long- sleeved aprons for your children, only they need not be so icng to ~> back. Make them to come to the Dc..om of your dress in front, and to buttcc o thirds of the way down the back; the t.ceves should be jong and full, gathered inte a band at wrist, So as to button over the dress Fit the apron over your dresses, it at the waist so that it will your way. Siip it on over your | can easily be thrown off. . 2 2 When you send your baby out ing be sure that the nurse to shade its tender eyes from the sun. vith the full glare s the face. The hot sun is also apt to make a child ii! if it is not sheltered from the di- cee: ee eh ee You ough: to have dress forms to all your dress waists on, to Ly Ay in shape; but if you cennot afford bunt and cut them in three pieces and use them. You c.n hang them up by « string tied in the middle. Hang the waist on the hoop and button it up; it will keep its shape much better. 7 2 e © © Don't put sofled rags away to taint the closet, and often the whole house. are regular disease breeders, anyhow. Wast every rag, white or colored, and put them in a clean bag; then you will be sure to have them in good shape when you get ready to use them. Some women soiled rags up in their rag carpets; cer- tainly @ reprehensible habit. 72 © ee Weak nerves are the inseparable com- Panion of inactivity. Scholastic education exercises the mind, end gymnastics body, but the sedentary diversion alone will let the body decay. The only diversion that will brighten the eye, fill the lungs with air a trengthen the muscles is vigorous physical exercise, taken necessarily, or as @ precautionary diversion. Men and women who spend long hours at the desk, or who bend over the sewing machine and counter, will age rapidly after twenty-five, uniess they manage to get some kind of exercise that will shake up the whole system every Inactivity of the body will produce one of two undesirable conditions—too much flesh or not enough. It is as bad almost to be thin to be too stout; and by nd exercise, unless the fat proves to be @ disease, as it oftem is. ° ¢ © 66s A splendid whitewash to use out doors, known as government whitewash, and one which is warranted to last for years, is made as follows: Slake a half bushel of s, | ime in boiling water, covering to keep the steam in. Strain it through a wire sieve to get the lumps out, and add a peck of gcod salt, previously dissolved in hot water. ind to a powder three pounds of rice and 1 it to a smooth paste; soak till it und of clean glue, and put these with one pound of powlered h whiting, in the lime, and put the nail kettle, which should be set er kettle filled with water and hung over the fire. Stir into the lime and stir the mixture ull it is all of one consistency, then cover and let stand for a day or two. Apply with a white-wash brush. Jt will take one pint of the stuff to a square yard of surface. 2 6 . When you build your own house don’t make the rooms too small just for the sake of having @ jot of them. A small room is so easily “cluttered” up. Have the lv- ing rooms on the sunny side, and plan to | have the family sleeping rooms on the same side of the house. Let the occasional guest sleep in the shade, if that Is neces- sary; he can riand it for a night or two much better than you can for a lifetime. “ee @ If you want to cool your rooms off prop- erly open the windows at top und bottom. That gives the heated air which lies along the ceiling a chence to escape, and creates a draft. 2 2 oe © It ts quite faxhionable again to “canopy” the bedstead, but no sensible person will do it. When you inclose your bedstead in that manner, you simply cut your fr. sir supply down that much, and the ema- paticns from your body are confined with- in the limits circumscribed by the curtains. so that you breathe the foul air over and over again. _-—>-— In Darkest Phil From Puck. Bleecker.—“Heavens! Old man, this town’s ull, Eleven o'clock, and the streets are like a graveyard.” Biddle B. Biddle (proudly).—“Well, you just come with me; I can take you around on Chestnut reet und show you a restan- rant that keeps open all might!”