Evening Star Newspaper, February 9, 1895, Page 16

16 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, FEBRUARY 9, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. | THE LATEST OUT Some Recent Wrinkles cn the Face of Dame Fas! De on THE WELCGHE RETURN OF DoTicus Silt Will Be the Fabric for Early Season Wear. TuEY WEAR PIBS NOW ©. tte Exclusively for T I to have gene wild on the subject of or- namentation. Ther is no stone too pre- cious to imitate for ry-day garnit and silver is so com- mon and so cheap that the charwoman would be frowned upon in the swell West End scullery re- ns if she were to pinion her Bath bun Teaddress with anything grosser than a silver dagger. The very last freak of fash- fon Is a silver pen extractor! It is a frail filigree affair, and if rot adjusted properly would effe ly rain the pen, but it looks extremely pretty to le on my lady's pen tray ameng the other silver traps. The new throat or collar buckles are not so bar bes they are longer and prettier. them look like crocheted silver wire, and are flexible. A few are s Wt though these are really worn by some nrously wide as they were for awhile, | Some of | with brilliants, | mous sales already of the very light wash silks for summer wear, and of the darker ores to be made up for wear right after Easter. Taffetas, so durable and light, will hoid their own, but surah and gros grain will push it hard. There are some odd fancies in evening silks shown, the “‘secr- sucker’ lk, and gauffre crepe being the very latest. They are used principally for hed ces, made up with lace and rich passe- menteries. The cheap wash silks come in Mode of Pibbon. the most charming colors and certainly do nder remarkably well. They are even and a few of them have in stripes which French for ; It may be that tte and that ridiculous ornament safety pin follow in sequence; ve have both. The bavette is f the richest of material, lace, or all three combined. At a ption last week a young lady wore a k silk, lace trimmed, and d sleeves attached, over a It looked very pretty fits closely about the throat, but may fall to the shoulders. One that Is very preity has a gorgette of yellow satin | folded sofly and caught at the sides with | rosettes of fine lace. Falling from this, arly to the bottom of the bodice, is wide e over Wide yellow satin, and over that | mi § ople of unquestioned good taste in broad | yet a long fringe of Roman pearls in per it is quite HM, the apostle of monds should never al must be har- abroad these ver log chains, k, are not new They are proverbially hard state recept nsion are somet nd those at the lega- wn at the Chinese min- left enough of it lying $s of the ball room to Her laces were torp nen she extr and w from pack she looked as though she had be gh a separator. The y for st at the new ideas belts ar ry di A fine wi flexible as ribhon almost rts that overlap Another beit belt, as a buckle of two b ard are set with turquoises is of a thin blade of ev with flat, set in a pus oriental us colored stones. Rib- A all the exaw nd have dainty bows with small rhinestone buckle the cent There are tiny rings of s with (iny stores, that may be sewed thé bett to form a chain of brilliants pugh the center, cr to stud it at inter- nv brilliant occasions ok a little loud. ing to favor, we ttens seem to be retu they will be welcome, for bad as dressmakers hate to make buttonholes, they ather do it than submit to the con growl about hooks that never stay fa nd eyes that elude the most skiitful Job's patience with his boils is not to be mentioned in the same breath with the woman who can fasten a hook-and-eyed bodice and not swear softly. Some of the buttons are exquisite pieces of workmanship > of filigree gold with real mos expensive ones are painted ivory or china, set in quaintly wrought ri vests of tailor-r sowns that ened from neck to lower le buttons, generally of } as the dress. - Large pearl buttons will be a feature of the medernized Eton suits, which will be with us again in the spring. There will bi just enough diff nee in the cut of the new garments to mak» you wish that you had Waited till this season to buy. One fancy eis Ress — The Bavette. fn the jacket Is to hook ft to the vest down the sides, and not let it fly open, as it did last season. It will not be hard to accom- modate the old style to that feature, how- As for the sleeves, they can't get any for there is nothing to hold them except it be a wire cage. I did hear young woman who utilized her big rainy, sloppy day to stow her \d they might be made to market baskets, but it is quite able that they have reached the high- est point of all their greatn and will soon fall, like a bright ex ion in the ning, and no mar sce them more. My, but wemen will look funny then! Here is . French authority on the st dressmakers interlin is a gener: iff The with gr tendency 2 lining, em- haircloth or te under- are made ith hair- full orded 2 inches wide. Inex- of moreen or hioned with a with kilts or box plait: that much ad ted yok is yok awe ing a ing effect to the ar skirt worn abi A few of these skirts are silk covered It is thor among Importers that these srs of hoop skirts. skirts & of all fabrics for Merchants quote enor- vill be the fi ason wear. ‘se stronds. It is remarkably pretty, would be quite gorgeous in red and k with cut jet. Another dainty adaptation of the bavette is formed entir of ribbon. The adjust- t of the bows on the gorgette is a lit- , and the jet pendants on the ends ot the ribbon are entirely so. Pearl or cut eel would be a pretty ornamentation for crusade against the theater i kinds of devices have been sorted to to save the appearance of go- ubvoad bareheaded. Some of the jew- ed a » used for this purpese are simpl site, One to be put against f ribbon is of dead : the other is an These Are Theater Hats. gold sect with pearls. The center pearl is set around with diamonds. Both of these ornaments are made to stand against a high knotted coiffure. The newest fen is a revival of the em- pire. It has long handsome sticks of moth- er of pearl or of jeweled enamel and a narrow top of hand-painted satin. It is quite the thing to have the painting done by a celebrated artist, and the more it costs the better. Many talented young wo- men are employing themselves at decorat- ing these fans wit portraits; it 1s quite the thing to have your ancgstral portraits depicted on them. The loug, curled os- trich plumes made into a fan, with a hand- some oriental handle of gold or silver,come next in favor. << KING DOUBLE-R NER. Mammoth Sled Which Carries Seventy Passengers Eighty Miles Per Hour. Every one who has ever Ived in the north knows what double-runners are, and there are but very few of such people who have not, at some time in their life, ex- perlenced the exhilarating sensation of be- ing @ passenger upon one of them and sliding with great swiftness down some snow-covered hill, but for the benefit of those living in a climate where the delights of winter coasting are comparatively un- known it may be well to state that a dou- ble-runner is a long sled capable of carry- ing, ordinarily, ten or fifteen persons. It is an arrangement of two or more small sleds connected by a strong plank, and, when loaded with a jolly crowd of young people, with a strong arm at the foremost sled to guide It safely down the hill, ts a means of enjoying the winter sport of coasting. “Unele Sam,” the name of the double- runner which is the subject of this sketch, is undoubtedly the largest in the world, being seventy-six feet ten inches in length, weighing exactly 1,500 pounds and capable of carrying comfortably seventy passen- gers. Its construction is somewhat differ- ent from anything ever before attempted in this line, having, instead of two small sleds, four, which are connected hy three | strong planks twenty-five feet long and } fourteen inches wide. It is most substan- tially built in all parts, having iron trusses urder each plank, and the whole is artis- mted in pretty colors, 2nse sled is owned by Mr. Her- vey Pearl, a young mechanic, whose home fs in the little town of Farmington, in | scuthern New Hampshire, and was built by him in 1594 at_a cost, not including his own labor, of $175. Repeated trials this | winter have shown it to be a wonderfully flyer,” fully meets with the and Jexpectations of its builder and his many friends, who watched its construction with more than ordinary interest. The main street of Farmington rises considerabiy in grade from the center of the town and makes a most excelient bill for coasting. The citizens he coasiing rnival recently, and both old and young turned cut to sce “Uncle Sam,” the king of double of course, the principal attr tiest sights of the ¢ s gh the town with its ioad ef eigh ¥ when thr hool children, all of them, lou ering and waving “Old ¢ L course over which it ran is and a quarter in length, a est part of the hill, with ngers on board, it attained a eighty miles per hour. y 3 TRAINING CHILDREN The Importance of Parental Dis- cipline in the Home Circle. THE INJURY. OF OVERSEVERITY —_—_.—__ Some Mistakes to Avoid in Bring- ing Up a Family. SSE EFFECT OF EXAMPLE ——— ‘Written Exclusively for The Evering Star. grown people are bound to respect,” grumbled Rose-in- ’D JUST LIKE TO know if children have no rights which bloom last evening. \ “I particularly prize ‘that little red feather fan that Redtop gave ‘Y me, because it was \\ made by a daughter SS of old Manulita, the Navajo war chief. I never carry it except on special occasions, but Dorothy thinks it locks ‘empirey’ because it is so little, and it just matches her red crepe, so she sneaked it out of my box to’carry tonight, thinking I would not find it out. It 1s downright mean of her! She lost my silver bracelet, carrying it off that way, without asking me for it. I'll get even with her, though. I’ll show her that I have some rights in the world, if I am ‘only a child,’ as she is so fond of telling me.” I must confess that my sympathies were all with Rose-in-bloom. Older sisters have no right to impose on the younger mem- bers of the family any more than on the cider ones. The disposition to do so is a relic of the old theory that might makes right, and, as Dick graphically states It, ‘that won't hold water always.” But it would have been neither wise nor kind to teil Rose that children have not many rights that are respected, and that the peo- pie who have any idea of those rights are few and far between, in this age of shoving the weakest to the wall. Children have a right to be well born. But how many of them are? I went, only a few days ago, to the pretty new home of a friend, and found the door hang w.th white ribbons and white crepe, and Inside the house a white-faced, new-made mother bendirg above the flower-bordered bed of her dead first-born. I suppose the world would have called the child well born, be- cause its ancestors have a family tree with branches reaching far enough back to shelter Wilitam the Conqueror. Blood isn’t inuch account, though, after it has filtered through the veins of moral lepers for gen- eration after generation, sowing the reeds of disease, sapping the strength of chil- dren, and dowering them with unsound lungs, weak hearts, shattered nerves, and bedies far too frail to endure the length- ened burden of existence. When I looked at the child, whose thin, wee face showed its heritage of ills, I thought to mysel “That baby's death lies at the door of its mother and father.” Hereditary Taints. Only the slightest knowledge of the physical laws of heredity would have told a man who was born with consumption, and who had coughed away one lung by the time he was grown, that it was a crime for him to marry a woman whose kin had contributed half a cemetery full of consumption epitaphs. You cannot juggle with the laws of nature. No human law was ever made so strong but that there was a way provided to escape it, some- times, but nature's laws are inexorable, and the guicker men and women recognize that fact the better it will be for the perpetua- tion of the human race in the godlike tyre. One of the questions that ought to enter into the consideration of th2 setting up of a new hearthstone is whether on either side of the proposed union there are hered- itary taints which might entail disease and suffering upon posterity, which would deprive children of their right to be born with a full complement of sound faculties and the ability to care for themselves, in- stead of becoming a burden upon the state fer their maintenance in maturer years. It must be admitted, however, that the present troubles us a great deal more than posterity, and that we are inclined to let the future take care of itself, which shows that what seems wise in one instance is most unwise in another. Since the child ts denied {ts first right, nine times out of ten its next right, that of proper rearing, should most certainly be granted it. Too often, alas, it is cheat- ed in that also! A beautiful picture is only a blot of black to the blind. A wild horse, though full of speed and a giant of strength, is less valuable than the plodding hack util he is broken and trained. Steam, unfettered, is simply mist; in subjection, it is one of the greatest of human benefac- tors. A little child may be never so well born, and have latent within its soul all the arts and virtues, yet it will be no bet- ter than the verlest vagrant that walks if its talents are suffered to lie dormant and its undisciplined will left to its own devices. True nobility of character de- velops rapidly in the right atmosphere, but it is like good bread; left too long in the dark undisturbed, it’ gets musty and fcul. The Kohinoor didn’t make a pretty door prop even till after it was polished. You can’t begin the polishing process with children too young, nor can you keep it up too long. The Small Tyrant. The baby in the cradle soon learns that if it shrieks long enough you will take it up, that is, tf you have been so unwise as to yield to its first faint demands. It will learn its lesson in two days, and you may labor for a month to undo the damage of that first concession to a small tyrant. If a child is perfectly healthy, and is not in pain—and if you have sense enough to be given the care of an infant, you can tell the cry of pain from the cry of temper— yeu will calmly let the small creature ex- haust its temper fn solitude. It will soon perceive that its yells are not productive of results, and quit. I do not know whether a baby reasons or not, but I do know that it reaches logical conclusions in some kind of a way, for I have seen it put to the test. When you have taught a baby that you are not subject to its petulant whims you have won a great victory. But the endless chain in life’s discipline is but just started, and from that time on you will struggle against odds in rearing the crild properly. ‘Too many mothers err weakly In the rear- ing of their children, through their great love fcr their offspring, or their own in- decision, either of which deters them from inilicting punishment. Hundreds of others puifsh iamely, and then pardon the offense with tears and rewards, both methods be- ing utterly destructive of good government in the home. Children, good, bad and in- different, have to be controlled with a firm hand, but not necessarily an fron one. It is a right that parentage entails, and civilization’s demands should be enforced, so that children may grow up into law abiding, morality-loving citizens. Parental laxness, coupled with hereditary weakness of will in the children, is responsible for half the crime in the world beyond a shad- ow of a doubt. The child who fs not disciplined at home is not prepared to submit to it when he goes out Into the world. It was his right as a child to be shown that “every spendthrift to passion is debtor to thought,” and that the man whose “whims are his guides, whose will is his god, and pastime his pur- pose,” is poorly equipped to wrestle with a hustling, unheedful world. If mothers—I say mothers, because the fathers of the land pay very little attention to their off- spring until it brings either discredit or distinction upon the family patronymic—if mothers would only remember that their own weakness in that time of trial when their children are growing up about them is mest surely entailing upon thelr unfor- tunate offspring, upon their own declining years and upon the public possible dis- grace through the unrestrained passions cf unrestricted youth, it would certainly nerve them to some degree of firmness in dealing with their children, A child that is willful should be curbed at the start. Firm, Yet Just. The tiny hand that hurls a block at a parent’s head and is laughed at as cute in its infantile anger may, if undisciplined, plunge a knife into the heart of a friend in a moment of maturer passion. The child whose love for candy will lead it to steal a forbidden penny frfjm ffs mother to buy the sweet will, if not punished, develop into a lawless app riator of other peo- ple’s property. The child’ whose passionate temper leads it to spasms of maniacal shricks is on a safé rogd to the insane asylum, unless it has some good horse sense spanked into it.) ft Humankind is so constituted that pun- ishment by pain, eithdr mental or physical, is about the only discipline which effectual- ly deters us from wrong doing. Mankind from childhood to old age loves to be com- fortable, and the penalty of discomfort, inflicted for infringement on the laws of Ged cr man, is the only thing that saves us from falling to the leyel of the brute. Yet over severity 1s as injurious as over indulgence. Giving a child full license one day and punishing it severely the next for doing the very same things is another in- justice that weak, vacillating parents in- flict, and sow the seeds, thereby, of socialy ism and anarchy. The one effective measure with children is to teach them in one manner or another that your “no” means “no,” and your “yes” means “yes.” Then guard your tongue against uttering them aimlessly. That one rule will save a world of trouble. Don’t threaten a child with punishment of horrible nature, because you know that you are staining your lips with a lie when you do that, and the child soon learns it too. It begins to doubt your word, and be- cause you fail to inflict the punishment, it learns to think that you are half afraid of it. Whipping is not always the best punishment, though, like a surgical cpera~ tion, it is often the only thing that 1 save the patient. To be always whipping a child will only serve to make him tough and intractable. Frightening children to make them chey your mandates is a plece of barbarism for which there should be a severe penalty at- tached. The parent who will thus impose upon her unfortunate offspring has in her a streak of latent cruelty, such as leads the Indian squaw to torture her victim. To shut a child in a dark closet or a dark rcom, and threaten it with the vermin that may be there, is to lay the foundation fcr nervous disorders of a serious isature. ‘There are instances on record where chil- dren so imprisoned were taken out dead,or gibbering idiots. Some Mistaken to Avoid. As far as possible, children should have their own particular belongings and be taught to take care of them in the proper way. They should be instructed In the rights of property distinction, and no ce child be permitted to appropriate the property of another, or to use it except with the permission of the owner. Older children should never be so lawless as to use the belongings of the younger scions of the family without first requesting the favor of the loan. Children, older or younger, as the case may be, have a right to hold their belongings exempt from inter- ference of other members of the family, except in case of parental intervention for some good purpose. To treat a child as Dorothy did Rose is neither ladylike nor in any way justifiable, and I am ashamed of her. It injures a child’s self-respect to ap- propriate his property without his permis- sion. It makes him feel that he is u very insignificant creature, and lowers him in his own estimation, a thing that should be avoided at all hazards. He feels that he has been treated unjustly, and resents It in his own way, which is often unpleasant, as Dorothy will find out, before the fan epi- sode is closed, I fear. Above all things else, a child has a right to expect that its parents, or those who stand in that relation to it, will be its exemplars in everything. But how many parents are fit to be held up as a pattern in all things for their children? When you punished your little one for uttering an un- truth, do you remember telling it that you would burn all its playthings if you found them under foot again? You knew you never meant to do any such thing, but there was no one to punish you for your untruth, and you were old enough to have known better, too. When you washed your little boy's mouth with soap because he used an oath, did you require his father to undergo the same ordeal, knowing full well that it was from him that the lad caught the words that to him seemed so manly? Punishment in such cases is rank injustice, for a child ipstinctively apes the manners and actions of its elders, The offending parent is the one to punish. Telling a child’s bright badness in its presence is a grave fault that many par- erts are addicted to. A child has a right to suppose that a fault for which it has been punished is not fit to be retailed, even to one’s most intimate friend, except as a horrible example; but when the misde- meanor for which it has suffered is told with much gusto in its presence as being a “good thing” and extremely bright for cne of its years, {ts ambition is fired to become more audacious, the punishment passing for naught so long as it finds itself the subject of admiring comment. It is the child’s first lesson in cajoling a capri- cious world, and it soon Icarns that unique transgressions and brilliant vices are large- ly their own explation in a world which desires, first of all, to be amused. Childish rights seem trivial to people of maturer years, but they are of vital importance to the child, and, generally speaking, you will find that the child that has heen reared to respect the rights of its elders, and had its own rights respected in return, is the one that will make a useful, law-abiding citizen. SENORA SARA. aoa NOTABLE FEBRUARY DAYS. Candlemas Day, St. Valentine’s Day and the French Republic’s Birthday. From the New York Times. Short as the month of February is, it manages to draw within its compass days which are notable enough to merit more than passing notice. The churchman, the historian, the scientist, the pleasure-seeker —each and all may find in this month days of a very marked character. There is the ist of the month, which in England closes the season for partridge and ‘pheasant shooting, and marks the be- ginning of salmon fishing. There is ‘he 2a of the month, Candlemas day, which stands for the anniversary of the day when the Savior was presented in the temple. There 1s Ash Wednesday, which once in a while falls in March. There is St. Mat- thias’ day, in honor of the apostle, who tock the place made vacant by the treach- ery of Judas Iscariot. And there !s St. Valentine’s day, in memory of the good old Bishop St. Valentine, who suffered mar- tyrdom over 1,600 years ago. Just why he should have to stand godfather to all the serious and comic valentines which fly over the country and burden the mails and bother the letter carriers has rfever been satisfactorily explained. ‘There is the 22d, which is Washington's birthday. This year it comes on Friday, to the great joy of the school children, who wil have a vacation from Thursday to Monday. Then there is the 26th, on which day the short-lived French republic was proclaimed in the city of Paris in 1848. ‘This year the festival of Mardi Gras will be heid on the 20th. Nor should we forget to mention Shrove Sunday, which falls on the 2ith, and Shrove Tuesday. Finally, we come to the most notable day in February, which is, mofe often than not, notable by its absence—the 29th. The chances are 1,460 to 1 that no reader of this article was born on the 20th of February. "There are 365 days in am ordinary year, three of which come together, and then comes “leap year,” with 866 days—that is, 365 plus 365 plus 365 plus 366, equals 1,461. So that out of this period of four years there are_1,461 days, on any one of which it is possible for the reader's birthday to have fallen. The question may <b@é and _ is, asked, “What is the use of a 29th of February?” The reason all the years are not 365 days long is that the earth makes the year by traveling round the sun,-and it takes 365 days 5 hours 48 minutes 49 7-10 seconds to make the journey. We let the odd frac- tions of a day run on till they make a whole day, which we tack on to the end of February. But even this makes the year a few minutes too long, and so February must renounce all claim to its 29th day in the years 1900, 2100 and in every other hun- | dredth year which cannot be divided by 400 without remainder. This brings the almanac year sd nearly to the reai year that it will take some thousands of years before people find out the difference, and then, if posterity be wise as we are, it may correct the time to suit itself. aos ee The Usual Way. From Puck. | Stranger—‘You say religion has never entered into politics in this town?” Boss—“No, sor; an’ we don’t intind to let it.” “A wise resolve, my friend.” vis, sor. Kapin’ religion out av politics is aisy enough, sor,” “How Jo you manage?” ‘Sure, all the candydates do be av wan religion.” [HELPS HER HUSBAND But It Makes Busy Days for a Rep- resentative’s Wife. ONE DAY IS GIVEN AS A SAMPLE Duties Both Political and Social That Are Required. VISITING CONSTITUENTS Writte1 Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE WAS THE bright wife of a member of the lower house and she was talking to the Scribe. “You are always 8 ing something about the ‘Representative's day, and its duties,’ ” she said, as she sort- ed over her mail. “Why not say some- thing about a ‘Rep- res entativewoman’s day “That is a new title to you,” she said, as she saw the look of inquiry on the Scribe's face. “Well, we have to be designated by some kind of a ‘handle,’ you know, to set us apart from the other divisions of the politico-social world, and ‘Representative- woman’ gets to the pith of the position we occupy much quicker than ‘she is thé wife of Representative So-and-So.’ Don’t you think so, now?” she asked with a smile that would have melted the heart of a brickbat, but the Scribe being smile proof, only entered the possible new title on his note book. Representativewoman sounded odd, but, all things considered, quite proper. “Is a Representativewoman’s day very different from that of a—well, a Senator- weman?” he queried, stumbling a little over the new terms. “Oh, my patience! Don’t tack a title like ‘Senatorwoman’ onto the female ccen- tingent of that dignified body,” Mrs. Silver exclaimed. “They won't stand it for a mo- ment. You have to approach senatorial s0- ciety with just as much dignity as you do the official body.” “Well, but hew about this Representa- tivewoman’s day,” queried the Scribe, turning to first principles as safer, under the circumstances. ‘In what respect does it differ from that of any other woman? “There! I knew you didn’t have the slightest conception of what my question meant,” she declared with a cheery laugh. “How does it differ? Why, bless you! It bears no comparison to the days of other women in society. Why, do you know,” said Mrs. Silver, beginning to take the Scribe into her confidence, “do you know there isn’t a harder-worked lot of women in all this great city than the wives of Representative: Of course the Scribe did not know it up to that moment, but wisely accepted Mrs. Silver's statement of the fact, and sug- gested that she proceed to elucidate. Do you see this package of letters?” she asked, holding up a bundie of half a hun- dred. “That is my morning mail. 1 get it right after breakfast—it would spoil my to read and chat with friends as they }a threugh.” Mrs. Silver and the Scribe were sitting in the small reception room of the big. hotel in which this particular Represenia- tivewoman and her husband reside nine menths in the year. A Long List of Duties. “My mail is often a half larger than my husband’s,” she continued, extracting a long, gold dagger from her hair to do duty as an envelope opener. “He gets a salary of $4,000 a year for voting as his party wants him to, and he shirks even that responsibility by being paired, if possible, on all troublesome questions. He has a clerk to attend to his correspondence and keep all that is disagreeable from his knowledge, and to act as a go-between and buffet betwixt himself and the irate heads of departments, on whom he seeks to un- load his hungry constituents. He has no social duties except those that I plan and arrange for him; he sees his tailor but twice a year, and then only to be measur- ed, for I do the selecting of his raiment, outside and in. If his meals are not satis- factory, I interview the powers that be and have the evil remedied; if troublesome callers are announced, I am expected to report him as engaged, or out, or indis- | posed. I have to read all the papers in our congressional district, and keep a scrap book of the clippings that refer to him. As there are fifty or more weekly papers and several dailies, that task is no sinecure. The duty really belongs to his clerk, but I never have been able to make a clerk believe it. “When the constituent from way back visits Washington, it falls to my lot to show him the sights, for my husband must seem to be too busy to indulge in such re- creation. I rush him up to the Capitol, put before taking him to the gallery send a messenger to my husband with word to keep bis manly form off the inviting couches, his feet off his desk, and his cigar out of his mouth when on the flocr, till he is sure that I have departed with our guest. You know the stcck exchange style of transacting the business of the House of Representatives rather shocks the eco- nomical ideas of the frugal way-back con- stituent. Ther I take the constituent through the departments on the fly—I have my lesson about them as well learned as any guide who gets 50 cents an hour— and then I take him up to shake hands with the President. Sometimes we shake and sometimes we don’t. If the President can’t come down to his ‘high noon’ hand shake with the common people—of course I always select that hour to introduce the constituent—the ushers at the Executive Mansion know the little story they must tell me before him of the President's ‘re- gret that pressure of business, &c.,’ and the constituent goes away perfectly satis- fied that I am the greatest woman living, and dreadfully sorry that he has been the cause of getting me refused an interview with the chief executive! It is a harmless subterfuge, you knew. She Wins Her Way. “I don’t take him to teas and receptions. The seeming extravagance of it all would paralyze his thrifty old heart. But I take him to the theater, and invite a lot of pretty girls to go with us. That completes his captivation. He goes back and tells the home people tnat I am the right wo- man in the right place, and that I am not ashamed to recognize my husband’s con- stituents anywhere. Dcn’t you know,” said Mrs. Silver, sutidenly, as she jabbed the gold dagger back in the stylish top- knot, “I like the constituent from way- back. He isn’t always up to date in attire or etiquette, but he is honest, and he is grateful for my little attentions, and that goes a long way toward recompensing me for the hours and hours of precious time, to say nothing of cab and carriage hire, that I am forced to expend on him. “Then there is the irate constituent, who picks up and comes here without warning, and on the strength of the speeches made in my husband’s behalf by the step-uncle of his mother-in-law’s foster sister's hus- pand’s cousin, demands a collectorship or a consulate. When he fails to get even a ‘git? as cleaner of cuspidors he begins to threaten us with the power of his potent influence. That sounds ridiculous, but such men do possess a lot of power for evil, and my good offices are implored by my husband for the suppression of the irate constituent. If you think It is easy, just try it once. I'd Sooner arbitrate be- tween a moonshiner and a United States marshal, but I am not often vanquished. dinner, guests who are several shades above his social sphere, to flatter his van- ity, and my undivided and adoring atten- tion will generally do the business. “He feels complimented at the social at- tention, and I get him invitations to houses where we dine on a friendly footing—and he,too, goes back home, singing the praises of myself and husband, but soured on the administration, which he of course be- leves has singled him out to make him a scape goat for the short comings of others. You see a Congresswoman: has got to com- bine the qualities of strategist and states- man, politician and premier, be a good bit of a diplomat, and blessed with unlimit discretion, or she can make a horrible mess appetite to get it before—and come im here | A handsome toilet, a perfectly appointed | of things for her husband, who draws all the salary and gets all the glory. Then — The Sociul Duties. “What is it, “Mary? turning from the Scribe to a tear-stained, troubled face that peered around the door hangings. “Want to see me? Excuse me a moment,” to the Scribe, and the chatty, cheery Representa- tivewoman disappeared for a few moments. She came back fuming. “Now, there is a case for you. That is one of the best of girls, modest, and minds her own business. A guest of the house insulted her, she slapped him, and as a re- sult he has got her ‘fired without a charac- ter,’ as she expresses it, She has a litle child to care for, and it is hard to get a place. I'll have to do a little retaliatory diplomatic work for her, and threaten to leave if she is discharged. I have a little power,” she added with twinkling eyes, “and i don’t mind using it sometime: She %egan to gather up her mail, which covere'' table, chairs and couch, and the Scribe suggested that she had only outlined her morning and night work. What about the real duties of this very interesting day? She dropped her burden in comical despair. “Does not this mail present what would be a fair week’s work, to say nothing of di- viding it into days of eighteen hours each, crammed full of social duties?” she de- manded. ‘Now, listen to me. It ts 10 o'clock, and I have eaten my breakfast and partly .examined my mail. I positively could not get up any earlier, because 1 have not retired a single night in the last month before 1 in the morning, and often it is later. “I must start out now and visit the de- partments to round up the reasons for a batch of dismissals of my husband's ap- pointees which occurred last week—you see I am away behind on my ‘department work’—and I have promised to see about having two women appointed as postmis: tresses in third-class offices. I can't po: sibly get through before 1 o’clock, and then I am to lunch at the Capitol with Mr. Sil- ver and some board of trade men from our town. At 2 o'clock I have promised posi- tively to attend a musicale, and my note book reminds me that I have also promised for that same hour to lend my presence at a ‘coming out’ tea, a Dickens’ recital, a private picture view, and four charity con- certs. I have on my list four deserving cases of destitution, which I must try to interest my friends in, and will work them up in my rounds. At 3 I am due to stand behind the line at Mrs. Cleveland's recep- ticn. You think I might forego that and not be missed? Why, bless you! before I got away from the Executive Mansion your in- teresting Evening Twinkier would be on the street, and half the politicians in the city would be commenting dh the fact that Mrs. Silver ‘declined’ to assist at the reception at the White House, ‘thus widening the breach socially that has so long existed politically between her- husband and the administration.’ Then they would go on and draw a lot of conclusions based on my absence that would turn our political world upside down, and it would be cabled abroad that ‘Congress utterly refuses to sustain the President,’ and all becavse one poor little woman has not a cast iron constitu tion, and finds it a physical impossibility | to perform all the duties that society*) thrusts upon her. For the Hurband’s Snake. “] shall remain at the reception just long enough to get my name in the papers as being there, and thus prevent another po- litical cataclysm, then I shall hurry to a conference with that high and mighty per- sonage, my gown builder, to try her last idea in attire for epicurean functions. Ee- tween 4 and 5 I have a list of six calls that must be made, or six of my husband's friend’s wives will be incensed,and a social row will be imminent. I pick up my hus- band for those calls. Two are in the treme northeast, and the others reside in the extreme northwe: The distance be- tween is a good half hour's drive with swift horse: “At 5 we tea with some senatorial friends —got to go, too, for there is a difference of not be made wider. At 6 we tea axs still another ‘mus' phase. At 7 we dine four friends here. They are two bankers from way-back, and two extreme gold bugs from ‘down east,’ the prospect is appalling! A box >a the theater,a senatorial dance and a sup, at 12 will round up the evening abroad. | Then there will be a ‘smoking’ symposium in our apartments for a few choice spirits. | If I don’t die before that hour, I will be on hand to see that everything rons smoothly. I have not mentioned ch: a- ing numerous debutantes, my interest in the proceedings of Congress, or my love for music, art and literature. “Why do I attempt to keep up with the sccial swim when it is manifestly distaste- ful? I never said it was distasteful. I hike | it, but one has to live at a fearful pace, and the cost of it all is enormous; besides that, I don’t intend to have it said that my husband’s chances of promotion im oft. cial life were handicapped by his wife's indifference and lack of interest. Now you will excuse me, I know. It is time for the active rounds of a Representativewoman’s day to begin. Do call again, I shall be at home to you.” And ‘the Scribe left with the feeling that perhaps the Repre- sentative would be somewhat less of a power, both at home and abroad, if ihe Representativewoman were to fail him. BALLANTRAE. ——— THE NEW YORK GIRL. Others May Have More Beauty, Per- haps, but None Has More Style. Mrs. Van Rensselaer in the Century. One can feel sure that nothing will ever quite break the scepter of the American girl. But, In New York, at least, a rival scepter has recently been erected, held by her married sisters and her mother. Nay, the youthful matron has actually captured the girl's right to the first place | in society, and she does not yield what she has achieved even when the adjective no longer fits her. Of course, there is great gain in this, for social talent, like other gifts, must be developed as well as born, and a reflux part of the gain al- ready shows in the improvement of the girl herself. Her manners have greatly bettered; she dresces more attractively than ever, because more appropriately; she thinks more about her mind and her in- teliectual tastes—indeed, just now, her am- bition in this respect hardly takes enough account of the boundaries prescribed by her sex and age, and, as was not formerly the case, she continues to improve as she grows older. Married or unmarried, a well-bred New York woman is now apt to be more charming at thirty than at twenty, and not to have lost very much at forty, and this often applies to her looks as well as her mental characteristics. Of her chief physical characteristics do I need to speak? Other American towns may claim more beauty within their borders, but all will agree that the New York woman, individually and collectively, leads in that combination of the resuits of money, good taste, unaggressive self-con- tent, and that highly finished physical bearing which, in the vernacular, is called “style.” ————_-+ e+. WINDY DAY VEILS. To Be Fashionable and Protective as Well They Must Be of Chiffon. From the Philadelphia Times. It isn’t the least bit fashionable to wear gauzy, fancy veiling on days when winter winds are whisking about the street cor- ners, ready to kiss away every particle of beauty from fair skins. The roses planted in pale cheeks from wind tussles may look very alluring for a time, but the poor dam- sel who owns them soon finds out that their beauty is short lived. Cheeks rough- ened and reddered by exposure to the ele- ments bear a very different bloom from that which comes with health and hygi- enic exercise g She who has been foolish enough to don her thinnest and daintiest veil for a win- try walk has plenty of leisure for repent- ance. Soon the cry goes up for remedie: for chapped face and lips, and the silly young thing adds each day a new jar of cream or vaseline to her toflet sta suffering may be relieved, but it takes a long time to ccax back the dainty texture of her ski ‘So remember this, girls, and before you have quite destroyed your good Icoks with wind massage, adopt something substan- tial in veils for your cold weather outing. le women would as soon think without their furry trappings en a windy winter day as to ne: to screen their features in a blue or black Jength of chiffon or sewing silk. oo Giows on One. m the Atlanta Constitution. “One vindication,” said Uncle Eben, “am a good thing, but hit am er bad dee foh er man ter git in de habit ob takin’ "em reg’lar.” ¥ opinion on the silyer question, and it must | of another political | lways | d. Her | !SOME HOUSEHOLD HINTS Venturesome young girls who have new frocks that they want to show off, and no new wrap to correspond, can keep them- selves comparatively warm about the waist by folding a newspaper and putting it across the shoulders before donning the bodice, and adjusting cnother across the breast before fastening the waist up. Two thicknesses of paper will do wonders: and takes up less room than an underwaist. Folded newspapers between the thin cov- crs of a bed will give more warmth than five times their thickness in cotton and cloth. Some people, who can have down if they like, prefer the paper lining be- cause it is so much lighter than anything else. 6 . ce Cracked white corn, or, as it is some- times called, “hominy,” makes an excel- lent breakfast dish. Cook it till it is ten- der in just enough water to keep it from burning, and stir as litUle as possible, calt- ing just before taking off the stove. -Pack it tight in a wide-mouthed pan or crock, 80 that it will be about two inches or more across when sliced. In the moi & slice it carefully, dip in beaten egg and then in cornmeal, and fry on a hot griddle with plenty of good, sweet fat. It is also ex- tremely paiatable to put it in a pan and fry as you uid potatoes. oe 8 . . Don’t deprive the children of outdoor air because it is snowy or cold. Bathe them well and keep the pores of the skin open, and let them be well wrapped up and sent out for half an hour each day at least. Under such treatment, if they have good ventilation in their rooms at night, there will be no troubie with colds. os 8 8 Whken your coal oil light burns dimly you may be sure the burner is out of or- der. You should be very careful in trim- ming & lamp not to dent the burner in uny way, because the slightest deflection will make a difierence in the light. To clean the burner put it in an old tin can with strong ammonia or sal soda water and boi it for an hour. Then scrub and brighten it up and it will be as good as new. There is a sappy kind of gum col- lects on lamp burners, and unless it is re- moved it destroys their usefulness. A lump wick that is long enovgh, but grimy with settlings, can be treated the same Way, and heip the light a heap. $e) ere: A quick way of preparing light rolls for | breakfust is to take a pan of baker's rolls, | even if they are two or three days old will not matter, and sprinkle them weil with cold water. Put them in a deep pan in the oven and turn another pan over them, 50 that they will steam for a few moments, five, perhaps, then remove the pan and let the rolls be subject to a good heat for an- other ten minutes longer, if the roils are very thick. Just before removing, butter | the tops and let them crisp a little. If the oven secms to cook the crust too fast, put a paper over the rolls, and they will steam without browning. This is an excellent way, also, of freshening up a loaf of siale bread. Steam the lout ov& a pot of boiling water for ten minutes, and then put it in the moderate oven for half an hour with a paper over it. : se ee Pork chops are much sweeter if “smother- ed” as young chicken is sometimes cooked. Salt and pepper evenly sliced pork chops and lay them in a larded frying pan,and set them in a red het oven, turning them about twice before taking them out, which will be when the vidual taste. | five minutes, if the ov Prepared that way the: | chicken. be cooked done in is the ri are just as nice as * es © 8 Leather leczings may look might Jon little children, but they can turned into instruments of torture. If they |are tight euoveh to press on any of the muscles of i soreness: f the clothing worn by chi! bind any portion of the body il not have »p ly free action. The ‘ashion of pinning a baby’s legs in a bow knot in its “pinning blanket” is the use |of weak-kneed, bow-legged children, aud [the whipping post would be fair penance for such gress ignorance on the part of parents. The child whose limhs are free to exercise and kick will hax i chance at growing vigero. handicapped by hereditar minute a baby shows a de of its clothes, take off dresses where its legs will hav: to assert themselves, then keep your floors warm and clean enough for th | tumble about in its own wa: get over its crossness, ar | up with moderately 6 ea Try this for a “shampoo.” one egg, juice of one lemon, five crops of ammonia and half a cup of soft water. Let the hair down and rub the scalp thorougn- ly with t mixture, wetting a with it, and then wash in cle: water. If you cannot get soft water, put a little powdered berax in the rinse water. Use at least three rinse waters. It leaves the hair as soft as a baby’s, is the report of one who has iried it within a week. ss 8s 8 other's work basket” usually catches all the odds and ends of scraps and snip- pings about the sitting room, much to the discomiiture cf the tired woman, when she goes to look for something in a hurry, and has to fish for half an hour to gei it out | frcm the m It isn’t fair to harass ker that way, and here is somethi help you avoid it. Make a bag of one of tne | pretty da Turkish towels, leaving wpe fringed ends at the bottom, and 1 caine draw string of cast-off bright ribbon at the top; or make a bag out of bright silk, or a yet stronger one of striped ticking, which you can cmie! with feather stitching in bright wo. bag can be hung by the mantel, acure corner, or from a nail driven on the under side of the sewing table. It will be a splendid catch all, and will save a lot of ill temper, for embroidery silk and scissors will not get too intimate in it, and the ticular button wanted will not be u half a ton of undarned stockings, gloves to mend and tops and balls and other bric-a- brac. Little helps of that kind save a lot of time. oe «© ee One selfish member of a family can cis- turb the peace of mind of all the cihers, and if a mother sees that one of ber nil- dren is so inclined it is her duty to direct all her efforts toward correcting the evil. It is a difficult matter to accomplish with- out irritation, and nothing but gentle fivm- ness will avail. A selfish child should be required to do exactly the things that it mest dislikes to do, but these should rot be pressed upon him from that standpoint, as that would rouse antagohism at once. Make him believe that to do them is mak- ing things easier for you, or try to have it appear that he is doing a favor for some one whom he particularly likes. You can take a bitter dose of medicine with very good grace when it is plastered over with something you like, even though you know that the bitter is beneath. So it is with the child. se © we For the salt that you put in the shakers or little ceils, mix one tablespoonful of corn starch with an even teas; table salt. Kun this through a sieve eral times so as to be sure that it is well ul of mixed, then fill the receptacles, and you will never have the salt r getting too damp to shake out. cen mix @ quantity at a time and set away in a glass jar, ready for use. THE JUDGE’S OPINION. Thought It Unlikely That the Patent Would Ever Be Renewed. ‘From the Detroit Free Press. ‘A lawyer who makes a specialty of patent business, no matter just where i located, was called to the furthe a case involving a mortgage on a farm. | phe preliminary herring was before an old- fashioned justice of the peace, who had no high regard for the ways of men from the | city. At some point in the case the masis- trate put In a few remarks and the visiling lawyer collided with him, The on grew warm, and zt last the mais ¢ his dignity and his position, onal. mUhe are you, anywa: “Well,” replied the law ney.” ‘P'raps you are, but I never heard one ike you do, What kind of a are * he biuried out. r, “I'm an attor- “I'm a patent attorney The magistrate rubbed his chin for thought. 3 | “Well, all Pve got to say fs," he said, | stow! that when the patent expires 1 don’t believe you can ever get It rene * again.”