Evening Star Newspaper, July 28, 1894, Page 16

16 FOR HAMMOCK LIFE Especial Gowns and Fittings Are Almost Absolutely Necessary f0 BE REALLY COMFORTABLE Cushions to Match the Gown and Hammock to Match Both. > RUGS UNDER FOOT eee gee ee Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. ¥ SOUL HANKERS M or just two things + this scorching weath-- er," said a bright society woman the other day. “One of those is a hammock, ‘and the other is em- bodied in any kind of an ice cold drink. I Presume it would be well to add a good novel, and a comfort- able gown to the list, however. One pesitively cannot be comfortable in a ham- arock in the regulation gown,” she added, &s she began to hunt among her silks for skein of seariet floss to shade off a huge Deane she eae Katerina: ces tase ® new hammock. “You have not seen my Jatest hammock gown? No? Well just feome and gaze upon it.” And so saying ‘he led me to her dressing room, where Rhere was a bewildering array of summer Fobes, but nothing half so fetehing as the hammock gowns.” “My idea of a hammock gown,” she went en, as she laid the long soft folds out for gny inspection, “is one that is long enough fo wrap all around and over your feet, fall over the side, and puff in around you as you snuggle down in the cushions.” If that was her idea, she surely has succeeded in {inspiring her dressmaker, for she has just ‘We thing she sought. Such a pretty gown as it was, too. The material was pale pink “baby buntirg,” a material that costs just ten cents a yard, and looks to cost twenty- five. It was made in the empire style, the Bhort w puckered in at the slightly Founded out neck, with a double ruffle @bout an inch wide at the throat. The ‘ekirt was very full, having about six widths of the material in it, falling from under a deep wide rville of cream point de Venise, which was ed in pointed bertha fash- fon around shoulders, and fell almost to the waist line back and frent. The only trimming on the gown was the lace on the shoulders and a deep fall of the same on the sleeves from the puff, ending at the elbow, t ts. The skirt was finished with a in and a deep hem. “It will not crush a bit. you see,” said the Pretty owner, as she held the soft folds up under her dimpled chin for me to catch the effect. “I can ie around in 4t without feel- 4ngz all the time as though I was starting every seam in it. and getting it so wrin- Kled that it would not be it to be seen again after the first wearing. The ham- mock I will wear with this is all white,with Fufes of pink on the sides, and I have Pink covers for the cushions. Cushions are an absolute necessity for a hammock, you know, and then I have just the prettiest hammock rug you ever saw. It is made of two widths of pink nun’s veiling, the heav- fest I coukt get, and ig bordered with white lace and bh ‘e Think of I will that. pretty idea, I am sure. ssing and decoration it is y to have one’s hicn linings har- Monious a nd hats, and as for hammo- re the very latest fad. in every room in the hou: nd ere always 2 few left over for the porch and th> I know two or tl F s who have for a bed one lindoo couches, ic mac a frame 2 bed. The frame- omely carved wood. pod, for in it oriental 1 per- t, and rich removed at of wool or dressed for linen ot silk shects, and shifting summer clou mir comely sandal wo { the vou desire. Jerse they are the very latest tring, tremely inviting gmong the efternoon tea fixtures, as cerved ‘A word of warn- in thet half arz absolutely the ever invented to cor hevevmostered the Practice your lescons well in private ck the creature in publi 1ay eveived into.a supe farsish 1: is no longer the great eaveloping tail hat it was a year w twa “50, but iz as artistically made | | and hung now as a choice bit of canvas. It is knitted purposely for the room it is de- signed to grace, and the general surround- ings of the apartment are religiously con- sulted for harmonious colors. Silk is the favorite material, and the manufacture of these seductive sleeping arrangements has quite taken the place of the yellow wool dogs, with green eyes and brown tongues, once so effective in showing off taper fin- gers as they fashioned the thing known as t It Fete! an “antimacassar,” or words to that effect. The very latest hammecks are closely woven and have regular side curtains,which reach almost to the floor. These side pieces, designed to hide the shape of the body in the hammock, are sometimes made of thickly plaited fringe, with long tassels, and often they are simply a valance of some soft drapery stuffs. The pillows are covered with silk or silkaline, of a color to harmon- ize with the general effect. They are usu- ally square and have deep ruffles all around them. They are buttoned across one end, hence can be easily removed to clear. them. A hammock, to be perfectly comfortable, should be stretched pretty straight and be nearly four feet higher at the head than the feot. It should be swung low and be well stretched. If the hammock is swung on the porch or veranda there should be a nice floor rug to protect the skirts, for, of course, they will fall over the side and on the floor as the occupant lazily swings to and@ fro. Such a floor cloth is very handsome if made of Mexican blankets, but one can't always afford them, and a very cheap, and, if care- fully selected, an equally handsome floor rug, may be made of a horse blanket. They are thick and heavy and do not curl up like a tapestry rug does. You can make a lovely rug out of coffee sacking by ornamenting it with geometric designs in gay colors, put on with button-hole stitch. and then lining it with half-worn ingrain carpet. A wide veranda, fitted up with a bright-colored hammock, a tub or two of palms and a geranium, with three or four baskets of trailing vines, three or four rugs and has- socks, an afternoon tea table, two or three willow rockers and some m2gazines scat- tered around, makes a very inviting place to loaf on a hot summer day. If the veranda is not protected by vines or shade trees hang it with curtains of blue denim. But my pretty friend said, “You can't take much comfort in a hammock in tight street or calling gowns.” Comfort is the first thing to be considered always, in hot weather, and the world is growing much Fine Linen. more sensible in that respect. A lady may now receive her most intimate friends in her hammock gown and include among them a man or two if she likes. The gown is nothing more nor less than the old “tea gown” under a pseudonym. It is generally made with a moderately close fitting back and a loose front. ‘The empire is very much in favor for a hammock gown,also. My pretty friend showed me an ivory silk gown that she wears on very ceremonious eceasions. It has a close fitting back and a leose front shirred at the throat, with the side fronts coming over it, beautifully em- broidered in pale blue silk. The pufied sleeves have a plain cuff with a band of the embroidery. It is as dainty and ex- quisite as can be. Another charming one, which will be seen on the veranda of a cottage at Old Point Comfort soon, is of lavender nun’s veiling and cream silk and lace. It has a long train to the Watteau back, and the front is of plaited ivory silk, with revers of lavender moire. The sleeves are of alter- nate puffs and ruffles of the veiling and lace. Another lovely gown is much after the same fashion, but the material is fine linen, and the ruflles and insertion aze of ex- quisite hand-made embroidery. A remarkably fetching gown is composed of lace and heliotrope serge. The cream bourdon lace is set on the skirt in two points in front and caught with bows of heliotrope satin. The bodice is rounded, but there is a jacket of the bourdon, which comes down longer, and is belted with heliotrope ribbon at the waist and across ‘Toilet. the hurt. The gigot sleeves have wide caps the nourdon, and a collar of the ribbon ends ia a large bow at the The hat a medified 1830, w folds of petunia velvet and ostrich f m pons. White dotted sw s supreme among ompani . ‘the favorite isigny or butter-colored 3 e general rather ciny th an insertion of Ince or embroid: ery in the skirt and @ lice-trioined raiite. Colored lings fa the pale les ar semetimes worn, but for midemamer white is fi for everybody. Core should be » hewever, that white attire is always perfectly clean. Nothing ts more THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JULY 28, disgusting than a soiled white dress, and nothing more refreshing than an immacu- lately laundered one. Some yery dressy gowns are made of the fine white swisses that have dots of silk. These are made into evening gowns with under slips of silk of the color of the dots. Some of them have embroideries to rhatch the silk dots, and they make very fetching gowns. Dim- ity holds its own as a cool-looking material, and has a beauty all its own. There is rothing manufactured that is as easily loundered and kept white as dimity, and its wearing qualities are unequaled. Valenciennes lace is now “yellowed” in accord with the fashion of the moment, and more charming than ever on the dim- ities and dotted swisses. A beautiful cr- gandy, with purple violets scattered over it, was made up for a fair young girl in her first season last week, and is about the prettiest thing of the kind turned out. The full, straight skirt hangs over a gored foundation of white per , and is trim- med to the knee with spaced encircling rows of Valenciennes irfSertion, each of which is edged with a row of baby ribbon in violet. The blouse waist is made with sev- eral rows of shirring at the top and full- ress at the back and front, and the front droops in blouse fashion over a belt of heliotrope satin ribbon that is clasped abeut the waist with a silver buckle. Three rows of insertion finished with ribbon, as on the skirt, cross the front of the waist below the shirring, and the same kind of trimming forms the puffs of the gigot sleeves, with a ruffle of the lace at the elbow. The standing collar is a band of the ribbon, with a wide spread bow at the back. BELL BALL. ee een WORKING GIRLS. Injured by Unintentional but Utterly Unjust Suspicio: From the Philadelphia Press. Those benevolent-minded people who go about the earth sowing dragon’s teeth under the impression that they are scat- tering seeds of kindness have a perennial “concern,” as our Quaker neighbors say, as to the working girl's character. Two ideas, if presented to them, would make them open their amiable and invariably in- experienced eyes in wildest unbellef—one, that the girl who works for her living is not. necessarily a suspect; the other, that she is uncommonly like other gi-:ls, and that it is as tiresome, in as bad taste and as entirely unnecessary to drag her morals into every discussion wherein she figures to do so with boarding-school graduates or any other distinctive class of young women. They work euch harm as only the well-meaning are capable of, and incident- ally they make themselves ridiculous in the eyes of all to whom the working girl is a fact and not a fad. “Why, these girls must be looked after, you know!’ is the vague explanation usually given when you visit any of the so- called “homes” for working girls in this city—or, so far as I know, in any other— and find the hapless residents surrounded by restrictions which call forth such com- ments as that of one young inmate, who sarcastically explained: “Oh, working girls are so much worse than other girls, you know!” or else, like Tilda Squeers when she wasn't engaged, they're ‘going to be. ‘There is the restriction of the real home, and that of the ordinary boarding house, to which every reasonable woman expects to submit; there is also that of the reform school, to’ which that of these “homes” is most ‘closely allied. The inmates must indoo:s at 10 o'clock, unless by special per- mission, and if delinquent on this score frequently called before “the ladies” to ex- plain; their visitors are regarded with un- wholesome distrust, their actions super- vised, and in countless little undefined ways they are made to feel their morals to be in perfect perpetually unstable equil- ib-ium. This notion {s everywhere. Not iong ago @ prominent clergyman, in soliciting asso- clates for a working girls’ society, from among the ladies of his congregation, found it necessary to add the reassuring inteili- gence, “Respectable girls all of them.” I don’t suppose it eccurred to him that he was insulting every wo:king woman within or without hearing distance, any more than to stipulate that the ladigs who should offer themselves as associates should be respect- able also. Yet, why not? For the benefit of such people, well-intentioned or other- wise, as affect to believe the working girls’ morals more brittle than those of other women, the census of Carroll D. Wright, labor commissioner for the United States, has shown that the majority of women who have made the fatal downward step come, not from the laboring classes, but from the much-vaunted “safe environment of the home.” So much for that fallacy. “Now, tell me; don’t you think a pretty girl going into business is apt to be in- | sulted?” @ bright-faced young stenographer E asked. Her reply was curt and con- temptuous. “Yes—by such questions as that.” After which she turned to me and wearily inquired: “If you wrote steadily on the subject for ten years do you sup- pose you could convince people that busi- hess ‘men occasionally do something be- sides flirt with their female employes That the people who hold this mischiev- ous notion are chiefly simple-minded, home keeping women, knowing nothing of fiow the other half lives—rather fond of imagining it lives wickedly—makes the injury no less. Like all ill weeds the tradition once started g20Ws apace, a sweeping condemnation, based on isolated cases, and places a sin. ister mark against whole classes of per- fectly legitimate occupations. “Oh, I couldn't have my daughter a shop girl; they are so fast, you know,” I was once calmly informed by a comfortable matron. I did not know, nor do I know any one else who knows. ‘Working girls may be no better than other girls, but they are as- suredly no worse, and when so large a bill of accusation is made out against them the accuser usually argues from some such limited *scope of observation as did the man who, when asked, “Why are you so sure Indians always walk in single file?” replied, “Well, I never saw but one, and he did.” coe WOMAN'S RIGHTS, {t Would Seem as ff She Already Haa Enough to Satisfy Her. From the Boston Herald. It is not quite easy to explain the vitality at the present hour of certain old questions affecting what are called the rights of women. Men have been patiently, and, on the whole, conscientiously trying to give due recogniticn of these rights for the last quar- ter of a century. Women, married or single, can do in these days with their property very much what they please. The husband has ceased to have any legal control over his wife’s earnings, and in testamentary disposition a woman is rather more free than a man to do what she likes with her own. The learned professions are open to women and the universities have at least furnished them with “annexes” and admit- ted them to competition for degrees. ‘They can give their minds to the study of Greek or the making of puddings; they can become journalists or take to fencing with the small Sword; they can sit on school boards or bet on the horse races, and nobody has either protest or comment to offer on the emanci- pation of the sex. But it seems that all this ts not enough, or, rather, that it has merely created an appetite for more. Female familiarity with occupations hitherto pursued by men ap- pears to have developed a certain contempt for the male intelligence, Man, it seems, 1 a sad bungler, whom women “have allowed to arrange the whole social system manage or mismarage it all thes without ever seriously examining his w ering whether his a and his methods were sufficiently good alify him for the ta tut now that begun the long-deferred process of amination and judgment man is found wanting and must take a back seat. — see ‘The Reason Fiom Harper's Bazar, It ts these frocks 1) r the shouiders. 1 couldn't do myvelf, and I couldn't afford a maid.” . 1894—TWENTY PAGES. STORIES OF INDIANS Senora Sara Gets Her Impressions at First Hands, AMID SOME Pi SCENES — Admirable Traits in the Red People, Old and Young. A DEVOTED SERVANT ———— Correspondence of The Evening Star. SANTA FE, New Mexico, July 25, 1894. T IS REMARKABLE what rock -bound prejudices one will imbibe when one’s sources of informa- tion are narrowed by the prejudices of others! I have lis- tened to the ha- rangues of Objector Holman against the education of the In- dian, and the nar- rowly- expressed views of some of the other members of Congress—men whose minds seem unabie to grasp anything out- side of their own “deestricts’ until I had come to the conclusion that the Indian was @ good deal like the zebra, picturesque, but pestiferous; an evil to be exterminated, like the Russian thistle. In my youth 1 was a devoted admirer of Cooger, and had formed my ideas of the aboriginal inhabi- tants of this hemisphere on what he wrote about them. If it is true that the good die young, none of Cooper's kind of Indians are living now, but I believe a great deal in heredity, and naturally supposed thai some of the abnormally good qualities of Cooper's copper-colored people had come down to their descendants, Mr. Holman and his penny-wise kind of statesmen have done much to disabuse my mind of any such heresy, however, and not all the soph- istry of Helen Hunt Jackson could quite restore my lost faith, after hearing the In- Gians reviled and spit upon by the present Congress. in fact, I made up my mind that the In- dians had no rights that a white man was bound to respect, and that they were like corporations—soulless. I am_ still of the opinion that the Indian is, like the mule and Mr. Holman, a born kicker, but after | seeing him in his lair I am inclined to be- lieve that he has method in his kick. I find that there is a great deal of human nature in him, which shines out conspicuously, be- cause he has never learned to cloak his “cussedness” under 9 mantle of deception. Civilization nas done much for him, but it has not yet educated him up fo that states- manlike standard of diplomacy which leads him to offer the peace pipe to his “great and good friend” and stick a knife in that friend’s ribs waile the pipe is in transitu. The Indian may b> a great many things that are not nice, but that kind of treach- ery is not numbered among them. The Shadowy Past. Here in the “City of the Holy Faith,” as Santa Fe has been known for more than three centuries, one has fine opportunities for studying the Indian and the Indian question. The city is the oldest seat of civil and religious government on American soil. When Cabaza de Baca pefetrated the valley of the Rio Grande jm 1588 he found on the site of Santa Fe a flourishing Pueblo village. The inhabitants were a pastoral, peaceable people, and they had preserved | the history ef a race who bad antedated them so long that the name of the fabulous | civilization is lost in antiquity, They were neither Aztec, nor Indian, nor yet the mound builders, Some of their houses are yet standing, and they look fit to stand for indefinite centuries. One feels on viewing these ancient structures as though if pride in blood and ancient lineage amounts to anything, the Indian is the real and only aristocrat of this country. “I feel as though I had waked up in an- other world,” Rose-in-bloom said, a3 she skipped over to the window to sit in her night dress, where she could watch the sun come up over the mountain peaks, showing above the flat roof. “It is a slice chipped out of an old-time story, seems to me, cuddling her knees up under her chin and nursing them with clasped hands, as she gazed out fh the court yard. “I am all the time expecting a Spanish cavalier to ride up to my window and sing me a song to the ompaniment of his mandolin,” she chatter Then she lifted up he voice and sang the nearest approach to a Spanish love song that she knows: Far o'er the mountain Lingering falls the southern moon, Light o'er the fountain Breaks the day tco soon. “See it, Sara! There goes the moon, spang down behind that huge mountain, and the top of that eastern range is all aglow with the first Leams of the sun. If I stay here I'm going to be a sun worshiper, like that Kttle Indian guide we had yesterd Wasn't he cute? He taiks such delightful slang, and swears in Spanish with the air ofa int. He says that just before the sun rises he goes out on the roof and stands with his hands clasped and says a prayer as the sun begins to peep over the mountain. That is the relixion of his peo- ple. They believe that some day their god, Montezum, will come to deliver them, and he will ride on the sun's chariot right over the mountains,” Watching the Sau Rise, Then she sang arother snatch of “Jvani- ta,” and with a startled shriek sprang into the middie of the room, crying: “My good- ness, Sara! has he come?" as some one on the outsid> answered her, taking up the re- frain, But we had a good laugh at her when Elaine's bright face appeared at the window, and she perched herself on the broad reat outside, while Dorothy came sauntering down the steps from the roof. “We have been— “Watching the sun rise,” Rose began, only to have the words taken from her mouth by Dorothy and Elaine in unison. “I wouldn't miss the sunrise for any- thing,” said Dorothy, as she leaned her cheek against the crumbling wood of the window cnsing. ‘This ts all enchanted lane to me. It could not have been hard to write Ben Hur in the midst of surround- ings such as these. I thought about it as I was standing up there on the roof this morning. “The shepherds were tending their flocks,’ you krow, and I counted so imany little flocks of sheep out on the mesa, and saw others going out from the foids dug in the sides of the hills; then. these old houses do not Jook unlike the pictures of the houses in the Holy Land.” “J have been on the spot where it is said that the Christ w born,” Ekine remark- ed dr as gazed Off over the mountains, standing in bold ottline a st the sun sweeping up the ‘eastern heaver ‘and I have been greatl¥ impressed with the Jikeness to this city. ‘The older portions I mean. Ten years ago, when I was quit a child, we were here for a time and when ed the Holy Landbéth my mothe: If were struck with’ the simiiarity bur of the country, though this is her and broken then the iand of There is a church arid a re called the Cenvent of the N r the spot where the young child le star once stood, jown U there chap*! much re Judea. there, built ove lay, as under the cor in which thirt MPs a ays burn- i i we, in common with all whe ¢ % dapist or iant, knelt and said little prayer. I don't suppose that an body has the s' est idea that it is th pot on which the manger stood K ming back te the pre. there was a glam over overything for me in Palestine, and was perfectly willing to accept the st Thurt no ene to have been with us said 1 appearing othed, and in her rv day min? a. “we had s lovely time; we governor i saw ce wro te Fe XM idin She went on learned pt lesson. Juan de Otermin, the first Spanish gover- nor, and the old mud bricks look as though they would stand centuries longer. The room in which Gov.Wallace wrote, has been occupied by the Spanish, Mexican and American governors for over three cen- turi and fe looks out on a little park that they Call a ‘plaza,’ here." Just then we were called to breakfast. We were staying at the oldest hotel in the city, one of the sun-dried brick abomina- tions, with flat mud roof, convenient hiding place for perambulating centipedes and predatory tarantulas, to say nothing of the scorpions and other microbes of that sub- tropic clime. It was not my choice, but that .* the girls, who were paying roman- tic tribute to the ancient glory of the cit: a glory almost of the past, since the “Americano,” with his revolutionary ideas, went in, and dissipated the old, old world The hotel ts but one stor: » and is built around a hollow square, calied a “placita,” just one room deep. The rooms do not open Into each other, but all have doors opening on the in- side square, which is full of fruit trees, figs, apricots, peach and pear, and curious tropical plants with a languorous, heavy perfume, palms with their long, graceful leaves, and huge “ollas,” or Indian water jars, sitting about in ‘a dozen different places, the constant evaporation from their contents cooling the air, and making a little moisture in the high, dry atmosphere. After breakfast we went out to visit the government Indian school, where about five hundred young aborigires are taught to read in printed books, instead of the clouds, picture writing on rocks and sign language on the hands, The Indian Children, People who think that the Indian is de- void of artistic sense should have seen, as we did, the dogs and cats, the horses, sheep and seats, flowers and foliage that were drawn cn the blackboards around the school rcoms. They were done with colored chalks, and I have seen much-praised crayon and pastel pictures on easels in fashionable par- lors which had not half the delicacy of treatment displayed by those little Pueblo, Apache and Navajo youths. They had brfght faces, too, many of them. They like to be praised and patted on the head just as well as white children. They are fond of toys and play a better game of ball than white children ofthe same age. They are better tempered on the playground, too. I have talked with a great many teachers of In- dian children, and they tell me that, with- out exception, Indian children are more even tempered, and seldom fight or ewear about their plays, as so many white children do. They are not as quick of comprehension, but an idea once in their heads is pretty sure to stay there, The comradery of youth made Itself felt at once between Rose and one of the young girls—a Pueblo, as round and dimpled and sweet, despite her dark skin, us any white girl She was becom- ingiy attired in a white dotted swiss and had knots of red ribbon at her throat and wrists. Her abundant ebon hair was done in an artistic twist on top of her head, and she was thoroughly versed in three’ lan- guages—Pueblo, Spanish and English, which last she spoke with just the slightest h tation on some of her words, yet purely, She was fifteen, she said, and dis- played teeth as white as milk and li kept. She told Rose that her name was P: Fresh Meat. fter passing through the neat wards and dormitorics I missed Rose-in-bloem and found that she and Poquita had gone to the hospital to see a little Apache girl only five years old, who was dying of consumption. ‘oor little Wan-eyed creature. She had few ys to live, and her distressed mother, in her moccasins and blanket, just as she had come from the reservation, was bending over ler and moaning in a very human fashion. The child hugged her little rag Goll se to her heart and in her shy way would oceasionally reach her hand out and stroke the matted black hair half buried in the bed clothes. I thought that Indians never cried or laughed,” said Nora, after we had been the rounds and were seated in the »ig cocl re- ception room. “Ali the stories I ever read about them said that th were ashamed of emotion, and we always talk abo it Sherman being as stoical as an Indi sure that that peor I mM woman was as sorry about her little girl as you would be about me, mamma.” A Red Mother's Grief. formed people say such things,” said one of the teachers, a sweet-voiced elderly woman, “but I know that they feel just as acute grief, pain, joy or anger as we do, That scene in the hospital reminded me of the grief of another mother of which 1 was the unwilling witness a few years ago. I had gone up on the reservation to bring down some children, and in crossing close to some timber I heard a sound of lamentatioa. I feon came upon a tepee, in the door of which a poor mother was ting close to the embers of a dying fire. was iate in the fall and the cool. Back of her in the tepee w squaw, and I ways of doing things. ish, S$ another the arms of the woman over the fire 1 s a little stiffly bound bundle and recog ed.the fashion the mother has of tying up her Was a requiem for the dead they ing! Starting in a low note, the sound increased and rose 2nd sweiled out on the night air until it ved itself into a shriek. Over and o in the grief the women found vent in that long, seine wail, and all the time the mother At last the lamentz- he mother beg to croon her people, which I have ia: E-we-v'a-w: “ “T think in all my life 1 never heard a adder wail. P could not help such as that. I had no consolation to offe: I went on my way. iu the morning ¢ me back over the same t they were just putting ay In the grave. It was not v and the women had iined it with grass and the few leaves they cor find. Then the bent over the tight-wrapped littie bund and kissed it aguin and again, sobbing a I never heard white mother so! placed grass on the body, and th clods tenderly on that, as thou of hurting the little thing beneath; they put on top of it a bottle of ': milk and some berries, and the little toys that the child had played with. These were to nourish and pacify it on the long, dark way they believe that it has to go before it reaches the happy hunting ground. Then they kissed the ground above it and turned back to the tepee, never again to be brightened by the presence of the baby. Its little tongue was stilled forever, and that indian mother’s heart ached, and her grief was just as deep as any white mother’s could possibly be.” Living on a Constraction Train. Late that afternoon we, the girls, Nora’s mother and myself, were invited to tea with Mrs. Winfield, a charming woman, who has spent nearly twenty years out in that country. The house in which she lives is one of the rambling old adobe structures, nearly a hundred years old, and is filled with Indian curios, many of them being almost priceless now. In one corner of her big reception room, close to the deep em- brasured window, were two easels, stand- ing side by side, one holding a painting of a golden-haired child, and the other a paint- ing of a Navajo Indian in all the bravery of kis ornaments and aboriginal attire. -in-bloom was wildly delighted with and the hostess, kindly » luliah deep, was officially tion of the Sa “and we on the boarding train, as husband bad to be there all the tim nearly, There were cight c used kitchen, dining and commiss ears, @ three were for Our own car wa had our book st the same had in our hard to keep cooks the boarding dealth impr > and al- we would me in the nd other s we were near the ion, I was in constant ter lest she be stolen, for the Indians about the train constantly; bi not Keep nurse, because of immediately attached himself to our baby f never had a more devoted servant. Je simply adored him, and he could quiet r fretting when no one else could. He inet ucan see, ia his customary pink calico shirt, white cotton ers stopping at the knee, ieather moc- fastened with beanti buttons, and his long. straight across fore as) 3 the Custom vi his tribe, was hele n by a twisted sash of red silk, with nged eds. “Fe ‘wore, usually, a red sills sb, in which his kuife and ‘a brace of six-shooters were thrust. He had a splendid array of silver ornaments, bracelets and buttons, and a string of turquoises and beads about his neck that was worth a small fortune. Ride for a Doc “Once when Jean was very ill of mountain fever he wont up in the mountains for an herb which his tribe uses, to make medicine for her. One night when she grew steadily werse, we missed him. The high water had washed out the bridges, and we could not get the doctor from Fort Wingate, and we were in the depths of despair. Jean fretted for him, and called him all night long. I felt bitter to think that he was like mos! of his kind, as I then thought all Indians ungrateful, and that he had forsaken us. Toward morning I heard him call me, and went to the door to find that he had gone without a word to any of us to Fort Win- gate, fifty miles away, swimming the rag- ing mountain stream six times, taking his own blooded hcrses, and had returned with the ‘white medicine man.’ en we went to Albuquerque to live, his name was Co; ‘ah-col-col-go- year, begged to go with us, and we let him do so. He was Jean's devoted slave, and I never felt fear when she was with him. There was but one thing that he ever denied her, and that was his turquoise ornaments. They were a part of his religion, and he be- lieved that if they left his person they would cast a devil's charm over him. A few months after Jean was three years old we found it necessary to move to Socorro. That was so far away that Coggie could not go. His father was old, and he owned large herds of cattle and horses, and de- manded that his son return to the tribe, and take up his duties as a chief. The parting between him and Jean was soul harrowing, and I sometimes think that if i could have kept him 1 would have my little girl with me now. In less than six weeks smallpox became epidemic, and Jean was one of the first to succumb to the lorrible disease. Some three months later my door was opened, and Coggie walked in. He had never learned many ‘white man's ways.’ He stalked up to me and held out his hand, ejaculati “How,” and then asked for the baby. Hir grief was pitiable, but repressed, when I told him of our sor- row, and I told him, too, how bitterly I re- gretted never having had Jean's ‘shadow’ taken, as he had so often begged me to. He was a great afimirer of pictures, and Was one of the picture writers of his tribe, with a considerable talent. He had often asked me to have Jean’s ‘shadow’ made for him, but I put it off, as people often will, till when she died I had nothing but a little card photograph, taken when she was a@ year old. Story of the Painting. “Coggie’s face brightened as I talked to him, and when I had finished my recital, he got up, and wrappirg his blanket around him, he said, ‘Wait,’ and disappeared as he had come, not having spoken a dozen words, ‘Three months later he walked into the house again, bearing a big square package, which he unwrapped, and stood up before oquitay me, with every manifestation of delight on his part. My heart almost stopped when I saw that it was a perfect likeness in oils of our little Jean, which he had brought me. it was long afterward that 1 learned from the artist in Albuquerque how the picture had been painted, for Coggie would not talk. While in Albuquerque, Coggie, tiring of my seeming indifference, had taken Jean to the best artist in the city and had an excellent tintype taken, for which he gave one of his turquoise rings, a gem worth at Jeast a hundred dollars. This ‘shadow’ he put in a silver card case, which he bought for the purpose, and hung with the rest of his trinkets around his neck. His quick mind suggested a copy of this when I mourned that I had no picture. So he went back directly to the artist. An eastern por- trait painter was at the studio, and his really excellent work pleased Coggie. So he ordered an oil painting. He would not give the tintype up, but each day sat beside the artist, noting every shade on the canvas, suggesting and approving. He tock from the silver case a bit of the blue dress that Jean wore in the picture, and one of her yellow curls, which he had cut unknown to me. He laid them before the painter each morning, and took them away each night. And when at the end of two months of painting in, and rubbing out, Coggie de- clared himself satisfied with the work, he laid down before the artist his cherished beads and turquoises and his beautiful silver bracelets, a small fortune! He could have paid five times the sum in money, but the artist was sharp enough to play his tender feelings, and Coggie would have given a hand rather than not had the ‘shadow for me.” “If papa ever fights another Indian ap- propriation bill, he will have to fight us too, won't he, mamma?” asked Nora im- petuously, when the pathetic little story was ended. And her mother agreed, most willingly. “Papa ought to come west,” said Nora, abrupuy continuing the subject as we walk- ed home under the bright moonlight. “He does not know what he is legislating about. How can he—how can any of the members who never were west of the Mississippi river know anything about the vast inter- «cm men have chances to be much better in- formed, because they have seen both east l west. I am afraid we are cgotistically selves on it,” she con- ad ¥, a8 we reached the hotel. What a pity father is not as amenable to impressions as she is! SENORA SARA, —_—->—— The Princess Had Aspirations. From the Pall Malt Bud; When any sickness is on the way, the Duchess of Teck likes to rank herself as be- ng to the nursing profession—at least an old aspiration. For in her epic youth, one else, she intended her life to be simple, unique and devoted, she agined she had a mission for nursing. She did not intend to do by halves what she uld very willingly have renounced the 1d to do with her whole heart. But the HOUSEHOLD HINTS Matters That Will Interest Houses keepers of All Glasses, SUGGESTIONS AS 10 CANNING FRUM How to Utilize Left-Over Things for the Table. THE HOSPITABLE HOSTESS ou Written Exclesively for The Evening Star. A very nice way to mse up Cold roast beet and pork, or veal, is to soak thin slices in weak vinegar over night, then dip in egg and grated breadcrumbs and fry a light brown in good sweet Jara or butter fon breakfast. oe we we A delicious cabbage dish is made as fole lows: Boil quartered cabbage till it is tens der, then squeeze dry and chop fine in al’ bowl. Add salt, pepper and butter to taste, sprinkle grated breadcrumbs over the top and pour enough cream or milk over it to dampen, and bake half an hour. ‘ . 2. © we . As this is the season for canning fruit, table of time to cock and the amount Sugar to use with each may not amiss to a great many. Cook tomat: twenty minutes, add a little salt and hot. Ripe currants take six minutes cook; eight ounces of sugar to the quart about right. Siberian crabs, twenty-fi minutes, and eight ounces of sugar to Ee ounces of sugar to the quart. quart. Peaches, fifteen minutes, and twenty minutes, and six ounces of Sugar to the quart. Whortle berries, five minutesg and four ounces of sugar to the qq Plums, ten minutes, and eight ounces ounces of sugar. Raspberries, six minut: with four ounces of sugar. Cherries, fi minutes, and six ounces of sugar. Can fruit hot, and tighten the cans a time afcer the fruit cools. Never use in to the wove ern =. let the air fruit and ren it liable to i. the cans in a dark place, Sor frost wetntne, oe ote and flavor better if kept dark. . + + SS To keep your fruit jellies from moldi put an even half inch of sugar ever the t after the jelly has cooled, and then cover. the glass with thick paper that has been’ Coated with white of egg. °° © 62 Cold sliced potatoes taste better and fry, a nicer brown if they are first dusted with ficur when frying. 7 2 © @ ; Tomato catsup is an exceltmnt relish, and is so easily made at home that all houses wives ought to keep it. It is tasteless stuff] when bought at the grocer's. The followa ing recipe has been tested for many yea! and never fails: Cut in small pieces fi cookirg in their own liquor enough fin ripe \matoes to make four quarts of pul when cooked. Rub through a wire siev till it is as smooth as cream. Add tablestconful of salt, one teaspoonful off black pepper, one-half spoonful of cayenne, one-half teaspoonful of ground cinnamon— erind it yourself, and be sure that it good—one-half teaspoonful of cloves, Sugar to suit the taste. Boil slowly for, three hours, and when nearly done add pint of good cider vinegar. Bottle whem hot, and cork the bottles tight, them all over with sealing wax. When yo! | are going to use spices of any kind, or per, get the whole grains and them} yourself. Then you will not ran the | of spoiling your viands with pulv chips, 2 © w © : A cheap way to make jelly glasses is suge gested by a housekeeper who never thinks jof spending a penny on glass for jellyd Take bottles of the size desired—beer bote ues make splendid ones—and saturate cord with coal cil, then tie it tight arow the bot‘le. Be sure that none of the oil runs down the side of the bottle; if 1 does, wipe it off. Touch a Nghted mate! to the string, and the bottle will cut in tw: as neatly as though made that way. Wraj the cord three times around right close t gether, and just as the shreds drop away: dash a cup of cold water on the bottle, and a neck end with the handle of a fe. 3a - 2 © we A nice way to restore crape, is to dust it thoroughly, and then sprinkle it till damp with alcohol. Roll it lightly in a newspaper, being careful to keep the paper between ali the folds, Let it stand until dry. . . ‘: os An economical fly poison is made of four. of molasses, a pint of water, and a worth of quassia chips. Boll ald together, and set where the flies are thicks est. They love it, and it kills quickly. ° 2 8 A delicious flavor may be imparted te fruit jellies which have no especial flavor of their own by boiling in the liquor a rose geranium leaf or two. o 2 6 & Horseradish is said to be an excellent remedy for neuralgia. Grate it and mix with vinegar, as for table use, thea spread on a cloth and apply to the seat of the trouble. It wiil blister like mustard, how- ever. It is also good for a cold; snuff the fumes, till they have penetrated to every part of the head. Cover the eyes, as the fumes are hard on them. . Mothers who desire to keep pink or biue Stockings on their children know that it is impossible to find those colors that will not fade. Try the following: For the faded blue stockings, use common bluing made the right shade by dipping the stockings till you are va of a lady's devotion to nursing as an | pleased with the color. Then dip them in cccupation was a startling one in the mid- | Salt water to set the color. Every third dle of the century; and the queen, who in- fluenced the middle of the century, and was influenced by it, refused affectionately but firmly her consent to her cousin's project for a career. Her majesty even used the word “unwomaniy” in describing that ca- reer, from which one may suppose that Florence Nightingale and her band had not yet given a decorous peetry to nursing as a Vocation for the educated woman. No doubt the queen also judged that the young Princess could not be spared. She was, in fact, to become the grandmother of kings. And this week she has recalled with smiles the “bucketfuls of tears” shed when yeung ambition was denied its scope. A ees len for The Evening Star. Stranded. A stranded sai! upon life's stormy shore Lies teinpest-toesed, this While all seems ost. The mom was fair, with sells of hope full set, She p & A costly freight of love the bore, and yet A wreck to be! with suils like these ard freighted so "a sately st And etill © Forever on Ww The Bank of France. From Chambers’ Journal, The Pank of France is guarded by sol liers, who do sentry duty outside the ban! a watch being likewis t within its pre. cinets. A former practice of protecting this nk was to get masons to wall up the doors of the vaults in the cellar with hy iraulic mortar so soon as the moncy was deposited each day in these receptacles The water was then turned on, and kept running until the cellar was floode?. A burglar would thus be obliged to work in « diving suit and break down a coment before he could even begin to plunder the vaults. When the bank officers arrived each morning the water was drawn off, the soury tern down, and the vaults opened “he Bank of Germany, like mosi other German public buildings, has a militar: suard to protect it. In a vy strons fortified military fortress at Spandau is ke: the great war treasure of the imnpeticl gov- ernment, part of the French indemn| amounting to severs! willion nausas. her | with time of washing you will have to do this, but it is quite satisfactory. For pink, use rose aniline in the same way. If you want deeper colors, you can get by making the dye used still stronger. The salt will keep them from “crocking.” | ° Hay sprinkled with a little chloride of lime and left in the closed room will re move the omell of new paint {Mectualiy. Leather belts or boots that have been soaked in water and dried hard may be softened by rubbing plentifvlly with coal oil, If the leather is very dirty, wash it Cyanide of potassium will remove all ine delible inks whose base ts nitrate of sliver. Turpentine or alcohol rubbed in hot will remove new indelible ink, if you use soda and soap in very hot water on the fabric immediately afterward. -_. © © © When you buy nutmegs and are not sure of their quality, stick 2 pin in them. If they are good, the oil will immediately sure round the puncture. . . An old housekeeper gives, as her recipe for taking grease spots of the well and paper, the following: Meke a paste of cold nd pipe elay, or fuller’s earth, ana plaster on the spot, leaving it ever night, Ta the morning y sa it oF with it will go very old and very deep; in tliat case you have to use the paste a second or third time. . on 7 child-en front chiltren mora! responsibility; the er, the They are imitative litde cnimais you would have them grow aright, you ave a care to practice what you preach, They are very apt to do as they see you do, rather than as si Oil cloth on the floor will last much ton- xer if you will put several layers of poper under it, or, better still, some widths of old carpet. ‘The little unevennesses in the floor will wear it through in streaks. Study the tastes of your guest and adapt yourself accordingly. Do net tire her out with press of hospitality, and do not leave her to her own devices UM she Nas tired of herself. ‘There is a happy medi the “hospitable” hostess will » YOUr presence elses e, excuse yourself quietly, and attend to them. if your guest is fond of gay com- pany, try and supply her with those amuse- ments. If she fs inclined to be quiet, do not force her to attend gay eutertaiiments, ‘ven though you may Mke them yourself,