Evening Star Newspaper, November 3, 1894, Page 23

ge | THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1894-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. FOR LOVING MOTHERS How They Can Dress Their Little Ones in Style. peek tS rn vert INEXPENSIVE, BUT EFFECTIVE — Reproducing the Latest Designs at Home. -_—- THE SUITABLE MATERIAL Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. KILLED ARTISTS and clever designers have combined their energies and devoted thé entire summer to new styles and pic- turesque fancies for the benefit of the younger generation. In consequence bright eyes and rosy cheeks are shown off to per- fection, and the ba- bles look as though chey had just stepped cut of some beautiful far-away world, where they and their belongings were the only objects of any importance. Few of these levely little wraps, bonnets or gowns are made with the slightest thought of economy, Rich silks, velvets, furs and real lace are prominent features, and when the mother’s love and pocketbook are not on good terms she will have to exercise all her love and patience, and, with less expensive but not hecessarily less effective materials, copy the small garments displayed for her inspection. For Wee Tots. From birth to two years of age white lawns, dimities, nainsooks and cambrics are used almost exclusively, although after eighteen months very light-colored ging- hams, daintily striped flannels and henriet- tas are quite frequently worn. White S are made of tucked, feather-stitched or lace-striped nainsook, and even for deli- cate children are sufficiently warm, if all- wool undergarments are used. Every mother sbould understand the importance, even necessity, of clothing her little ones, as well as herself, in pure wool underwear. At two years of age the skirts begin to shorten, having up to this time reached to the in- step, or barely escaped the ground. At three they reach quite up to the knee,where they remain until the prospective woman has reached the mature age of nine; then they are lengthened an inch or so for each year until, at about fifteen, they are down to the boot tops. ‘The very fashionable “touch of black” 1s given to many of the tiny dresses, while others are of bright colors only. All should be made so that they can be worn with a guimpe. When this is done the appearance of the gown may be so altered that it seems like quite another dress. Many mothers adopt the very charming but equally expensive fashion of gowning their little daughters in white until they are five or six years old; but such a course is not always satisfactory, as it necessitates many changes and an almost endless amount of washing. ‘The little maid in the initial is almost lost ina bonnet which is the counterpart of those our great grandmothers smiled and blushed in when our great grandfathers were courting them. The one I saw was made of rather dark green bengaline, show- ing unusually heavy cords, with a finely shirred lining of .palest pink china silk, The only outside decorations were the stiff upright bows of dark green corded ribbon. Sweet? I should think so, and lots of other people were of the same opinion. mocasesreemessesnnesespeunncmesmrapasaetas een anuitseecanetcemaseapancinianmnipetersconaipiatomnaneammantangraruaiansapiasinnicaontemnaiienanieehaneimua mane n he design shown in the first Mustration 1s very, very large—when the tiny head inside is taken into consideration. The material is palest blue and white corded bengaline, with the upper part of the crown all puffed and pleated and gathered until it is a perfect marvel. Just in front 1s a per- fect wilderness of pale blue ribbon bows, while all around the edge is a band of dainty amarabout fur. The full cape keeps every breath of alr away from the delicate little throat and gives besides a very picturesque effect. ‘ Sor Every or a The small gentleman of one year old pic- tured here wears for every day such a dear Uttle gown of white mull, or, rather, India non. Of course, he must have a mannish {ttle “turn-down collar,”but all gentlemanly Severity is taken away by the dainty frill of lace which runs along the edge. The oke is square, with alternating bands of | ce insertion and very small tucks. The kirt hangs from this straight and full to where the only decoration is ¢ wide hem, daintily stitched by lL EET SS Senne ee CE en nO sf li i SC al ann oe ts omen bs.) CRU Bid Da SER alas Sets ‘This one wears a gown which is “espe- clally pretty” for dressy occasions. On this collar, besides the frill of lace, is a band of fine lace insertion, to the edge of which the lace ruffle is carefully stitched. The yoke is slightly puffed, with a “heading” of the lace insertion. The skirt has two clusters of tucks—two in each—and rather a deep hem. Should a more elaborate effect be de- sired, insertion may be very effectively placed between the tucks, or more and finer tucks be made, iil. Aa 7 Ceol For a girl of five a dear little gown is shown in the fourth cut. India linon is the material employed, and the design Is. most simple. Merely a round yoke of alter- nating bands of narrow tucks and lace in- sertion, bordered with a full ruffle of mull embroidery. The other ruffies are only sleeve caps, and should be sewed in with the sleeve. The skirt is straight and full, with bands of lace insertion placed between the clusters of tucks. This is one of the prettiest and daintiest dresses I have seen, and would make up especially pretty in China silk, with ruffles of lace. The fifth gown is extremely pretty and the design is altogether new and odd. The dress is made with a perfectly plain round yoke, which is concealed by the deep col- lar which fails over it, and is the dis- tinctive feature. It is almost {impossible to tell exactly in what manner it is made, so I shall merely say that the sections of linon are slightly puffed and joined by lace insertion, which edges them completely around, and which is in turn bordered by a frill of lace. The straight skirt has a band of insertion just above the hem, and above this four dainty tucks. ‘The last drawing shows what my lady wears when she goes out for a walk. The model—an imported coat—was of white ben- galine, with trimmings of ermine, and linings of white China silks. In front it is shirred across the “double brea: in order to give the requisite fuilness. The arrange- ment over the shoulders acted at once as collar, cape and epaulettes, the back fall- ing in stiff pleats. Under this and coming from the neck was a large Watteau pleat, which gave the requisite fullness to the back. The cap was, however, the cutest thing—of white bengaline to match the wrap and trimmed with stiff upright bows of white satin ribbon and funny little er- mine tails. A band of this beautiful fur bordered the cap, and just a trifle to one side was an ermine head. The whole outfit was the prettiest thing imaginable, and the pattern is a lovely one to develop in broadcloth. In this case get the color known as “mode,” and make with velvet cape of the same color, trimme@ with rar- row bands of otter, and lined with pale pink satin. The cloth could not, of course, be shirred in front, so the wrap would be simply double-breasted and fastened with pearl buttons. Vv. K ~~ The Stylish Stationery. From the New York Times. Legal blue stationery is much affected by smart women, that, with pale gray or cream white, being oftenest seen at their well-equipped davenports. The correspond- ence card of two or three years ago has wholly disappeared—why, no one can tell, | ag it had its uses certainly. Tiny sheets of paper, with envelopes to fit, like that which supplies the desks of little girls, serve for short notes; or, if it is only a line milady would send, she takes one of her visiting cards, and scrawls {t on that. This is occasionally a pitfall to the ignorant woman, who forgets that the formal Mrs. er Miss engraved there is not the proper signature to a message to a friend and equal. The woman who knows never for- gets to draw a line through the title, writ- ing her Christian name in ink there, or put- ting her message on the plain side of the card, and regularly signs her name. Mourning stationery no longer takes on inches of black to advertise the woe of its sender. A narrow black margin is con- sidered sufficient for even first use in mourning. see -—- They Were Married. From Harlem Life. Brakeman (calling station)—Sawyer! Groom (who has just taken a surreptitious kiss from his bride, deflantly)—Don't care if you did; we're married. PARENTS’ MISTAKES A Child’s School Standing of More Importance Than Health. LITTLE ONES UNDER HIGH PRESSURE Regular Hours and Plain Living is Senora Sara’s Advice. VALUE OF STRONG BODIES ively for The Evening Star. AKRTH TO EARTH; ashes to ashes; dust 1 listened to the solemn worts with dry eyes and an aching heart. The lly white face on the satin pillow was one that 1 loved in life, and whose sweet smile I will miss for many a long day. “‘Aged eighteen years and three days,” was engraved on the silver plate on the casket lid. I pushed the flowers aside, so that I could see it. 1 remember, as though it was yester- day, the day I went to see a young mothe er, and she held out to me her week-old gir. A round, pink and white little wad of flesh, with sunny curls and sleepy eyes, and two pink hands that clutched aimlessly at nothing. ‘Through ail those eighteen years I watched the flower unfold, always with a trembling fear that the one perfect blos- som would be blighted, through overmuch training and ignorant neglect. Paradoxical? Perhaps so. Last June a year ago my pretty maid graduated, and less than a year ago she blossomed into a full-blown rose, that de- lighted all the social world in which she moved; and now—“earth to earth; ashes to ashes; dust to dust.” A “dispensation of Previdence,” the minister called it, as he played with exquisite touch on quivering heart strings. “A cruel bereavement,” was the ery of the lonely mother’s heart; but she’ who had borne so much could endure yet another straw, and say, with Lowell: “Condole if you will, I can bear it; "Tis the well-meant alms of breath; Yet all the preaching since Adam Cannot make Death other than Death.” True enough; but sometimes we court death! and I know that the mother of my dear maidjen has all but thrown her price- less treasure into the hands of the grim reaper. When, into the blue eyes, dim with approaching dissolution, there came the brightness which told that the glory of another world had dawned upon them, the gray old physician, who had heard the babe’s first wail, and grown to love the winsome maid as his own, said, with sad emphasis, as he turned from the weeping mother: “God knows I tried to save you this bit- terness;” and she, in her short-sightedness, believed that he referred to his unavailing skill in physics! I knew, however, that he was thinking of the frail little life that he had watched over from the first, and know- ing the delicate constitution, had warned the mother that her daughter was unfitted to brush up against the world in competition with her more robust companions. The warnings dinned in that mother’s ears, year after year, were unheeded, and when the blow fell she was as utterly unprepared for it as though she had not invited it. The Forcing Process. “This child has not the constitution to endure any long continued strain, physi- cally or mentally; but if you are carefully methodical with her training, and regulate her life by a ‘square and level, as it‘ were, till she is grown, then it is safe to say that she will live to be an old woman. But if you crowd her in her studies, and neglect her physical condition, as you have started out to do, don’t blame me, if your daughter hunts a pair of wings to_reach the height of your ambition.” I heard the old doctor say that to the moth- er one night after we three had stood for four helpless hours over the seven-year-old daughter, who was tossing in wild delirium of brain fever, after an exhibition of “his- trionic’'talent that had won for her the loud plaudits of the public, which spoke of her as a child of great beauty, wonderful talent and a brilliant future. All that dreary night she ranted through her repertoire of “pieces,” kissing hands to imaginary audl- ences, and anxiously asking her mother If she had done well, and if she was proud of her little daughter. You would think that the mother would have learned a lesson of experience, but she didn’t, and year after year, the “bright, beautiful, brilliant” girl expanded in the unhealthy atmosphere of a forcing house, her ambition feeding upon her mother’s pride, and her own vitality un- dermined by her close application to mental studies with an utter disregard of the physical being. When, in response to the penalty of na- ture’s inexorable laws, she was taken sud- denly from all her prettypursuits, Provi- dence had the burden to bear, and an ambi- tious, self-willed, short-sighted mother got off scott free. Death is unwelcome in any guise, whether he comes to our friends or somebody else’s, but It seemed to me, as I heard the clods fall over that daughter's coffin, that if I had been her mother, with all that mother’s warnings ringing in my ears, I would feel as though I had sent her to her untimely death. How many other mothers are thus lend- ing their assistance toward their daughter's early translation? I called on a friend yesterday, who con- fided to me the fact that she feared that “Bene” would not be able to complete the year’s course in school, unless she was crowded. Bene !s her daughter and a deit- cate, rather commonplace girl, whom her mother is determined shall keep at the head of her class. Lack of Appetite and Headaches. “She never has any appetite for break- fast,” Bene’s mother went on, “and usually swallows a cup of coffee, and sometimes a hot roll, but oftenest, declares she can’t eat a mouthful, and goes off without any lunch. If she gets hungry, she buys a piece of pie or a doughnut or two. Then, she either has no’ appetite for her dinner, or else eats ravenously. She complains all the time of headache, and back ache and side ache—I declare, it seems to me that the girls of to- day are a bundle of aches, Bene wants to stop school this year, and the doctor says she cught to, but 1 won't listen to that. She's got to graduate, then she can rest as long as she wants to.”” A When Bene came in shortly afterward, and laid her thin bony hand in mine, and I looked for an instant in her sallow face and lack luster eyes, 1 made up my mind that it won't be long till she will rest. And Providence will have another case of inju- dicious mother on its hands. My, but I would hate to be “Providence” if I had to answer for everything that is accredited to t WU ise-in-bloom used to have a habit of coming to breakfast late, and declare she had a headache and could not eat. It got to be such a frequent occurrence at last that 1 investigated. I found that she had got into the pernicious habit of lying In bed and reading till late in the night, when she knew that except on certain evenings in the week, the rule was to be in bed and her room dark at ¥:30. Her eyes are not strong and lying on her back to read in a poor light was injuring the optic nerve and giv- ing her headaches. T never believe in forcing children to cat, so I used to permit her to go to school with an empty stomach, often taking no lunch. A certain “pie” man, who lurks in the vicinity of her school,’ sold enticing looking pies and doughnuts, which Rose bought when she felt the craving of hunger. It is a wonder to me that she is alive t day, after sampling those pies myself! They were simply villainous! She has no more headaches now. When she comes down with the headache, and I feel pretty sure that it is half put on, girls know how to do those things, I bind up her head in. witch hazel, a remedy she detests, and send her to her darkened room, where she must Iie in solitude till her head is better An hour generally suffices to cure it. Then I make her eat before she leaves the house. A cup of hot milk slightiy salted will stay her stomach till she gets home 28 Pioneer er nnn | for dinner, when I see that-she eats only such things as will not hurtsher. Education 1s!No¥ All. Rose is a great deal Ifte other girls. She gets spells of thinking “that it is nice to be thought delicate, buf the demands of a healthy young animal’# appetite are too much for her, and she Will “piece” between meals to be able to cai it her designs of being delicate at thé table. I don't at her hammer and tom#s; 4 would do good. But I immediately pusher on simple rations, curtail her outdoor:privileges, ex- cept under my eye, deprive ber of her little social entertainments fer a certain period, on the plea that she must not have so much. excitement, and radd2to the duties that she has to perform about the house to give her the necesgarysexercise. Of course, I do not let her go to school when she complains, and she has te let her music go also. That breaks her heart, for ehe is ambitious and determined to keep up in her classe’. My remedies work like @ charm. There is seldom a recurrence of those “awful headaches,” that were simply the result of an “awful” habit of trying to hoodwink nature. When she has @ headache now I know that it is because she is taxing herself too heavily im some way, and get to the bottom of the matter at once. I am ambitious for my little sister, and am delighted to see her bearing off horors, but her health and happiness are worth more to me than an epitaph and a memory. I'd rather she never knew more music than the chords of Home, Sweet Home, or mathematics than the multiplication table, than have to shut her forever away from my sight in her white graduation gown. I was talking with a mother the other day who has but one child, a delicate girl of six. I remembered that as an infant this girl had been a wailing, sickly little thing, and there had been but little hope of reat ing her. When I remarked that Alice seemed to be developing finely her mother laughingly remarked that her friends called Alice “the hygienic child,” because she had been reared by the strictest rules of physi- ology and hygiene. Living by Rule. “I was determined that it should be no fault of mine if I failed to keep my baby, though I knew in my heart that it was from me that she had inherited her weak ecnstitution. I studied everything that I could find on ‘the subject of building up of the human body, and then laid down my rules and bound my husband and servants to live up to them. In living for my daugh- ter J have found health for both her and myself, For her I began to eat, sleep, drink and exercise by rule. Hard? Why, there were times when It seemed to me I must give up. You know I was a self- willed girl and never knew what it was to have a whim unsatisfied. I ruined my health by keeping late hours, injudicious eating and overstudy, wifen my strength was diminishing through the strain I was undergoing in trying to do my society and school work together. “My parents were anxious for me to graduate with honors, and so was I, but it never entered their heads nor mine that I should give up any of my social pleasures, and I doubt if I would have done so had it been suggested. I graduated with honors, but a long spell of brain fever left me a physical wreck. I realize that Alice will never be a brilliant scholar, I married young, and before I had fully recovered from the prostrating effects of that fever A year later Alice was laid in my arms, and from that day to this I have had im- pressed upon me the truth of thé Scripture, ‘the sins of the fathers," though in my case it is that of the mother. My daugh- ter’s frail constitution ahd commonplace talents are only the result of my stupid ignorence.” i A mother’s responsibility i: at all times, but more lly 1s this so after children leave her care to enter school. For the greater part of thé waking hours they are then out from under her eye, and it is her duty to know to Whom they arc intrusted, the influences that surround them, and their effeet. A school girl should be as regular in ‘her ‘habits as the clock. She should go to bed ‘and get up at specified hours; she shdiild @at regularly— not what she chooses to'eat/ as that would generally be sweetmeats—bit well-cooked food, such as has beon ptotpd to be easy of digestion. She should neter be permit- ted to go to school until she has eaten something. Such a perférmiatice is suicidal. Imagine from three to: five’ hours’ bra: work, every thougnt bie ding a cor- responding waste of tisste, amd all done on a stomach that has taken nb food for six- teen hours or more! It 4s preposterous! But -how much worse if the girl begins to get hungry abdut lunch time and fills up on candy and the vile pastry of side- street shops. With a’ surfeit 6f this, din- ner is not eaten, and before a late bed- time some more sweetmbats are demanded. In the morning more lassitude and head- ache, and so it goes on: The studies are increasing in number and difficulty as the months go by, but the bodily strength is decreasing, and the mental stimulus is borrowed from the principle of life, instead of from the good, new growth that should be making all the time. If the refusal of food comes from real ill health, get to the Toot of the matter and correct’ the evil at once. If there ts constitutional weakness, take the girl out of school and put her under a regular hygienic course, and let the “schooling” rest. Health is worth more than all the books in Christendom put to- gether, Plain Living and Dressing. School girls should be dressed plainly and comfortably. The mother who puts a cor- set on her growing girl ought to be obliged to wear a straight jacket five hours a day herself. I do not invelgh against corsets; they are, in my opinion, quite a necessary article of the toflet for a woman who has matured, and has no growing bones to crowd, no tender muscles to injure; but on a young girl a corset is an instrument of refined torture. Ten chances to one she would never need one at all if left free to exercise the muscles of her chest and waist for the first twenty years of her life. Finery in the schcol room fs vulgar and out of place, causing envy, jealousy and heart-burning, besides tending to inculcate a disposition for vanity, In the better class of boarding schools for girls a uniform dress is part of the discipline, and very wisely, I think, for then there is no possi- ble chance of a vain display. If mothers would keep an fron hand on their girls for the first sixteen years of their lives, weakly women would go clear out of fashion and be remembered only as freaks. Now, I don’t mean that a girl should be reared in a convent atmosphere, that would be unnatural; but I do mean that if mothers would care for their girls as rigidly as they do for their cats and pet canaries, their poodles and parrots, giving them a strict regime and stated periods of exercise, regular hours for sleep and work, and rear them sensibly, there would be less heart breaks in the world from girls “gone off wrong,” or graves filled with the early dead. SENORA SARA. a heavy one ——_—-.__ PRESSING AUTUMN LEAVES. Care Should Be Taken That They Are Quite Dry. Every third woman you meet. now, and a good many of the men, carry autumn leaves. The leaves are just, in the height of their teauty, and afe very attractive. They may be made quite decorative if prop- erly treated. Select thé leaves carefully, taking the clusters froth the tip end of branches, and see that the branches are not thick, When you have’ gatiered all you want of ferns and leaves get,them home as soon as possible, so that,¢hey; will not have time to wilt. Get a pile af newspapers, and do your work on the flotr t where you intend to press them, sothat you will not have to disturb them for @ week. Open a paper and lay the!leaves down, spreading them out carefully?in a graceful positions Having filled one ‘page, lay two or three folds of paper over it/and then dis- pose of more leaves in the:sdme way. You can make as many layers’as you like, When you have finished, lay ‘ever! the whole a board cover that will hide the whole from view, and then place aheavy weight on top of that. It should be something that weighs nearly a hundred pounds to hold all firmly. Arrange the ferns in the same way, but on a different pile of papers. In the course of a week or two they will be press- ed and dry, but just as brilliant as when pulled. A pretty way to arrange them is to tack a print to the wall, and with pins fasten the leaves in graceful clusters around it. ‘The ferns are particularly graceful for such an arrangement. Be sure that they are quite dry, for they will curl after being put up if they are not. Autumn leaves will keep their brilliancy for months if they are treat- ed to a coating—very thin, of course—of white wax before putting them up. You can press single leaves in books, but it would be a sorry sight for a book lover to see his books ruined that way. The general choice is the dictionary. Patent office re- ports and government reports in general are heavy enough for the purpose, but not large enough to press clusters. THE WESTERN GIRL Octave Thanet Pictures Her Virtues and Her Charms, DARING AND IGNORANT OF NER’ Forward, Perhaps, but Destined to Make a Good Wife. HER CHARACTERISTIOS ——_-———— Written for The Evening Star. HERE MAY BB things which the western gir! lacks, but one thing she surely has: That is, a good time! There still is, and, much more, there was, @ picturesque social Iib- erty in the average western town where- by the girls and boys have profited. laws of conduct were few. “Nice” gins could do things which would make a woman reared in a more conventional at- mosphere shudder to hear. The conventional woman did not con- sider that the liberty accorded to the west- ern girl was matched by the respect ex- acted of the western man. It certainly appears an audacious breach not only of conventions, but of common propriety, for a girl of nineteen to drive away with & boy of twenty-two, take supper in a public restaurant and come home by moonlight. Yet the boy would no more dream of think- ing lightly of the girl than the girl dreams that she is exposing herself to criticism. We disapprove, ‘most of us who have lived much in the world, of such actions, but, nevertheless, there is a kind of in- nocence about it that is touching. These daring girls become the best of wives, the most devoted of mothers, and outside of their homes carry their energy and gayhearted courage into all manner of char- ity and good works. Perhaps the bold young man who marries them should be punished for not having married a more demure and modest creature; as a matter of fact, he isn’t. He goes about, blissfully ignorant that his wife has brushed the evanescent first bloom of modesty; that, like the down of a peach—you will all re- member the rest. He thinks that she is as sweet and innocent as a girl can be. And so, very often, she is, although she has not had a chaperone im her life, and has read any novel that she cared to read, and calls her masculine acquaintances by their Christian names. But in her heart she may not have half the cynical wisdom of an eastern society girl who has been most carefully trained. In Girlish Simplicity. She has a simple belief in the decency of men. She knows, it is true, that young Eddy, who has such beautiful eyes and sings so delightfully, sometimes drinks more than is good for him; but she knows no more. Why her father should look so black when Ralph calls she cannot imagine. To her Ralph seems a wit and a lovely fellow. Nobody else sends hor such flower? or can pay little attentions with such a bewitching, half tender, all worshiping air. And Ralph is a good business man,too; so what has got into papa to make him so horrid? One day, perhaps (for the child is not the least bit love with Ralph, it is only her fancy and her vanity that «re engaged), she will frankly ask her father who is the biggest, and, in many ways, the nicest of her chums, why he doesn’t like Ralph. And if her father is wise, he will tell her frank- ly as she hi iked. But he will blush, thi honest, faithful husband that he is, while he stammers through the story. And he will have many and many twinge, and many and many an anxious question will he bring to his wife, recalling that quiver of pain and shame on the inno- nt face that turned away from his. “She seems so dul he will complain to his wife; ‘you don’t think she can really care anything for the fellow, do you?” Being a man and not a woman, he cannot realize that the shock that makes the girl quieter for days is only the horror of her first glimpse beneath the surface. But the child's mother, who has been a girl aglaw! will understand, for she knows how is that ‘irst moment of awakening and dis- illusion to a pure young soul, “But she has to know things,” she sighs. “Better now than later. And she might have grown to care for him. That evening papa and she are talking it over; he cannot quite follow her argument, but he agrees cheerfully that it would be a good thing to give his daughter a bright lit- tle change, and take her with him on his next trip to Chicago; and he is so kind and jolly, and thinks of so many delightful amusements that the girl's sore and be- wildered heart is soothed insensibly. Of one thing she is sure, that there are good men in the world, since her father is so good. The western girl, as I have said, is sen- sible, She has a practical way of looking life in the face. She is reared in the midst of a free parliament of opinions. The fam. fly discuss the nation’s politics, the father's business, the mother’s charities, or church or domestic conflicts with the servant ques- tion, the brother’s schools and the sister's sccial triumphs. She reads the dally paper, opinion about politics, Naturally, it is the opinion of her father and brothers; but she has it not so much because it js theirs because their presentment of the case is all that she has Lad. She is a gvod partisan, but not perfervid, she has too keen a sense of humor. Perhaps to the family life and the comradeship that her brothers have granted her is due this same sense of hu- In any event, it is hers, and affects her life. To it in some degree is due another valuable quality, namely, her exceeding adaptability. Whatever her lot, she at- tacks it with a gaiety and philosophy all her own. COnsider the surprising appear- ance of the far western Congressman’s wife at her first social function in Washington, and compare the portrait with her picture, radiant, gracious, quite at her ease during the last year of her husband's term, .From Town to Metropolis. A western woman was once transplanted by her husband’s success from a small town on the prairies to che most exclusive society of a great city on the seaboard. She was a handsome creature with a warm heart, a quick wit, and courage quicker than her wits. She studied the manners and speech about her. “And when I didn’t know the right thing to say, I kept still,” said she. Finally, the time came for her first dinner party. She had looked forward to it with a sligat tremor of the nerves, in spite of the possession of a middle-aged, rather silent woman described to her as “an actual genius in the kitchen.” When the evening arrived and the guests were gather- ed, extraordinary signals of distress from the butler drew her into the hall. “What is the matter, Jones?” she asked anxiously. “Nothing is the matter with me, ma'am,” he replied, with gloomy and reproachtul dignity, “but I wish you would just step down to the kitchen and look at cook.” Without a word and her beart sinking with every step, the lady followed him. Cook's helpers stood in tears outside the kitchen door, two scandalized maids hov- ered over her and told her it was a shame. But cook? Cook balanced herself on the edge of the table with a large spoon in one hand, smiling a foolish smile. It did not need the fumes of brandy that smote the newcomer to tell her what had happened. For a second she stood silent, seeing her guests’ faces surrounding the startled and mortified features of her husband, like a crowd of some mediaeval painter’s bodiless els. ‘It’s just a little faintness that comes over me,” remarked cook, waving the spoon amiably in the lady’s directto! lon’t be alarmed, ma'am, it only afficts me legs, niver me moind!” She Faced the Situation. ‘The lady took a few determined steps in- to the kitchen. “The dinner is going on all roight, don’t ye be consarned about the dinner!” the cook continued with unabated gentiality, “till that dumb looney of a swade to kape out of me and not pick me up onless and has an The I fall on the range, and to pare her sniv- eling to herself and I'll be cooking yez all the best dinner ye iver et!" The lady had been examining the oven and the top of the range; she saw that no harm had been done, and the soup and the fish were safe. Jones could be trusted with the salads and the sweets, which were ail cold. She laid her hand cn the woman's shoulder. She fixed a commanding but not stern eye upon her. “Put your head under the cold water faucet,” said she; ‘Jones, Pee! see it isn’t the hot water one and won't id her, and brace up! Then you cook the dinner, and Hedwig you wait on her, she will be all right directly!” She gave but a few directions about the dinner, saw them all at work, charged somehow with some tingles of her own elec- trie confidence, and went upstairs. She walked through the hall, frowning with thought; but she entered her drawing room smiling, and told her guests the whole story. They had come to dine, with the resignation of elderly men who dine out «ften, and who expect little of a new house, where neither the cooking nor the wines are famous. They brightened up a little at the story —which she told well—perceiving at least the prospect of some amusement for their trouble in coming. “You see,’ she a:lded, “it is an open question whether we shall have dinner or not.” The result of her candor was that by de- grees an easy gayety took possession of that staid and celebrated company, and by the time the pee segeeet to announce dinner the hilarity so increased that his formal sentence was greeted with ap- plause, while each successive course of a really admirable dinner (for the cook kept her word) excited a warmer and more demonstrative enthusiasm. From that oc- casion of peril dates the lady’s fame as a giver of feasts fit for epicures mental and gastronomical. And she did not discharge the cook; she did better; she reformed her. Characteristics. ‘The western girl is not nervous. She is too healthy. A shattered nervous system does not strike her as the sign of a higher nature, neither does it so strike her mother, who is prone to associate any unusual sen- sitiveness with a disordered liver and to insist on a dose of blue mass. The modern neurotic enchantress with her pallid and hectic melancholy, her languor, her facile and transient emotions and her cynical flicker of wit, does not in the least enchant the western heart; the young men do not leng to adore her, and the young women have no desire to be like her; even after a life in cities there reniains in the character formed in the west an ineffaceabie, vigorous simplicity: of motive and view. Perhaps it is the far-reaching effects of the youthful calomel. I shall not venture to hint that a calm and not too inquisitive conscience, which is a feature of the western girl's na- tcre, a conscience incomprehensibly stupid and lax, according to the New England standard, owes any of its inefficient tran- quillity to the owner's firm nerves. I would only plead that if the western conscience is gcod-natured, it is not all good nature; it can make rules and punish their infringe- ment. The primitive, simple canons of right and wrong are sacred to her. She tries, in her girlish, ignorant fashion, to be tender and faithful and honest. Though she is a girl, she has a glimmering sense of justice, and, although she is not a man, she has a notion of honor, She may be criti- cized as a maiden, but she is an irreproach- able wife, and she becomes the most devot- ed of mothers. Her virtues and her charm will make him a happy man who shal! win her. Her faults—but it does not please a western woman, who loves her, to indicate them; indeed, I am not quite sure that _— them clearly. OCTAVE THA’ 200, THOSE BIG BUTTONS. ‘They Will Be the Gayest of the Gay This Winter. From the Boston Herald. If buttons were gay in the times of our grandmothers, they are to be “screechers’”’ now, in the words of the manufacturers; but while they are striking in color effects and hand painting, as well as in size—for some of them are even three inches in di- ameter—they are beautiful conceits. These large buttons are as light as a feather in weight, being composed of filagree French gilt or silver and studded with jewels. Rhinestone buttons are the latest, and the winter street sults will have rows upon rows of them. The small ones will button the sleeves to the elbow and the larger ones will form a trimming down the front and side seams of the skirt. Hoge, hand-cut pearl buttons, with heads of staring owls and those of horses, were noticed in the exhibit. It is in the enamel buttons that the French have displayed to perfection their love of bright color. The foundation of the button is brass, upon which a heavy coat of enamel is placed, and the button is baked, as is the case with hand-painted china. After the baking pro- cess has been gone through with the button passes into the hands of the artists, who decorate it in every conceivable style. It is here that the enormous cost of the but- ton comes in, and a glance at a card of these enamel plastrons reminds one of the ease of precious ivory painted medallions in the art museum. Enamel, rhinestone and pearl buttons are to head the fashion list, and she who can- not turn over her ten-dollar bill for a dozen buttons next month might well consider herself among the ar tiquities. While hooks and eyes are out of fashion, as serviceable articles, they are decidedly in it as a trim- ming, and the Paris hooks and eyes of heavy, rope-twisted brass and silver are as large as belt buckles, and will be used for the same purpose. They are four inches in length, and will be worn at the throat. ee YELLOW CREPE AND VELVET. A Suliable Gown for a Matron Who is ityle. This gown is noted principally for its sleeves. Just now, the proper caper is to select the model for the sleeve, and leave the rest to the taste of the modiste. The ef- fect is not always harmonious, but the wo- men like it, and have to wear such gowns, Corn colored crepe and black velvet! Deesn’t that sound gorgeous? It isn’t, though. It makes an elegant gown for a matron, the black velvet seeming to subdue the yellow. The crepon skirt is made with a slightly draped front, over a lintag of yel- low satine just the same shade as the outside. The perfectly plain bodice of yellow crepor. is slightly rounded in front, and pointed in the back. Over the shoulders is a black lace garniture, outlined with a band of velvet in the back, and a bow be- tween the shoulders, and in front by @ full piece of the crepon coming from under the arms and caught up in the center by a ro- sette of the velvet continued around from the back. The bottom of the bodice 1s fin- ished with a band of the velvet, which ex- tends in rounded form over the front of the skirt, and is caught with black velvet bows. The big sleeves are crepe over silk Mnings, and are caught into a puff by twists of vel- vet. A fall of biack lace finishes the wrist. The model ts dancing length, but for a re- ception toilet a court train of black velvet could be added, making a remarkably ele+ gant gown out of it. —_—. Rasty Leather Farniture. Dealers say that icather-covered furniture should never get rusty if it is genuine, but dealers do not know it all. Leather furni- ture does get rusty. To brighten it up rub it briskly with a sponge wrung out of clean, strong soapy water and dry rapidly in the sun, Then take a flannel cloth, wet with 3 and rub the leather time. Leave in the air for a the odor will soon pass away. AS FRESH AS NEW. A Made-Over Dress That is Pretty an@ Stylish. Next to having a new frock, ideas of how to freshen an old one up are most accept- able. Now, here is an old gown that looks quite as well as new on its wearer, and you would never know that it had once been a “blazer” sult.” It was once a pretty blue serge, but had faded and got dingy, and the jacket was not full enough at the bottom, and the sleeves were too small, and, in fact, the owner was tired of it, any- how, after three seasons’ wear. She rip- ped it up and washed it with soap bark, ironing it before it was quite dry, on the ‘wrong side, of course, which in this in- stance was the faded outside. The inside looked as fresh as when It came from the shop. ‘Then she got good new linings,which cost her 59 cents, She cut the skirt by @ es jored pattern, enough coming from the fullness around the hips to permit a widen. ing at the bottom, which fashion demands just now. Then she got six yards of blue satin ribbon at 15 cents a yard to decorate the skirt in front, and to make some use- less bows, which are also very pretty. The Jacket she pieced up into a waist, made rounding, with the fullness in the back laid in tiny stitched plaits tn the center, and gathered into a belt in front. It took sieeves and ali to make this, so she got four yards of blue satin surah, of course she got satin and ribbon to match, the satin being a remnant at 60 cents a yard, out of which she made the sleeves and collarette, vhe collar and the belt. She had a few scraps left, and with these she trimmed her summer sailor, which was also blue. How do you like the effect? Isn't it quite @ success® And two $2 bill nickel that remodeling cost he: — ee HABITS OF EARTHWORMS. The Re it of Years of Observation by a Great Scientist. In one of his last essays Richard Jeffrier referred with great enthusiasm to Mr. Dar win’s book on earthworms, speaking of it at especially valuable to the practical farmen as well as interesting to the unsctentifi¢ lover of country life and field learning, The book has, moreover, a larger than common measure of the peculiar charm that characterizes all Mr. Darwin's literary work, the charm of homely industry and fascinat- ing research delightfully recorded. The introduction speaks of the thin layer of mold on the earth’s surface, the “dirt,” commonly supposed to be much deeper than it is, as being constantly altered and added to by the action of earthworms, Astonish- ing statistics are given concerning the num- ber of them to a square foot in common soil, and the amount of earth thrown to the surface in a year by “castings.” One is already interested, and then ready to offer respect to the worm, when it is further chown that earthworms possess important “mental qualities. A diagram showing the structure of the worm ts gtven, but the book deals rather with the psychology than with the anatomy of earthworms. The series of experiments recorded trating that earthworms have power of attention, discrimination and social instincts, is delightful, for not only does one see Darwin at home with the flow- erpot, containing the worms, at his elbow for daily consideration, month after month, but one becomes nally interested in the earthworms as a colony, It !s possible to feel sorry when one of them dies. Fat, squirming earthworms brought to the surface by a chance spadeful of sofl In the garden, seem to be there by chance, mere in-earth dwellers. But Darwin began his work among them by regarding each as an individual of well-developed int »lligence, and inhabiting a carefully made house of his own; an individual with whims and fancies, even. The experiments which were to test the earthworm’s mental capacities were, for the most part, very simple and homely, all household taking part. It is amusing to follow Mr. Darwin uy and down the garden walks with his lantern, perhaps crawling cautiously on his handt and knees, surprising the earthworm at his nightly toll—the searcher assisted not infrequently by “my sons.” And it is enter+ taining to picture him with a covered lan- tern personating the moon shedding a dint light over the flowerpot where the worm colony were kept, to test their sensibility to light. To see if they objected to change of tem- perature, he drew near tenderly with the heated poker; only one of the worms “dash- ed into its burrow,” which settled the point of the degree of development of their tem- perature sense. They were taken to the parlor to listen ta the piano and bassoon, fed with familiar and unfamiliar kinds of food and heated in all ways with the greatest care and consid- eration. To demonstrate the existence of sense of touch was less important; every one knows how ill at ease the earthworm is out of its natural contact with common evil. But Dar- win’s object was to find out what a prac- tically deaf, blind and dumb individual, such as the earthworm is, would do under un- usual conditions to make Itself comfortable. That worms rarely do have a choice in the matter of food and even architecture is no longer absurd, in the light of Mr. Darwin's years long researches. But with all these facts accepted, we are still unprepared to hear that an earthworm is sometimes til. It ts true that with his one species of para- site he is vi low in the scale compared = man exalted by his several dozen spe- cies. But it 1s a fact that his one parasite can cause the earthworm so much discomfort that he crawls away from his cherished home to die by the wayside in great de- spair. There is Darwin's hearty assurance to comfort us that the worm really suffers less, however, than his actions would imply. LOUISE LYNDON. —— + —+oe— Paper From § From the Manchester Courler. It is possible to make paper out of nearly anything, and the latest material suggested is the stalk of the sunflower. Some few weeks ago the experiment was tried at a factory in the Thames valley, first with hammer and an anvil and afterward with regular paper-making machinery. In the latter instance some 500 pounds of pulp were tested, and they produced about 320 pounds of paper. The substance, however, was of a coarse texture, and far better suited for wrapping up parcels than for taking print- er’s ink. In fact, the conclusion was that sunflower stalks are too short in fiber to make good paper without the addition of some forelgn material like rags. What is more, the ingredient would have to be near- ly fifty per cent of the whole pulp. Accord- ingly, sunflower paper hardly seems prac- ticable, unless, indeed, its title gave it a fancy value to the survivors of the aesthetio school. Unfortunately, they have become 80 palace that the market would be extremely, ts a eee Number of Women Doctors, From the New York Times. According to recent statistics there are about 2,000 women in this country who are practicing medicine. Of these only 130 are homeopathists. Most of these medical women are ordi There clusively to the training of women.