Evening Star Newspaper, March 2, 1895, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR. SATURDAY, MARCH 2, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. THE HOUSE GOWN Some of the Latest Ideas in Neglige Toilets, ABOUT GINGHAMS AND DIMITIES The Odd Effects of Crepons, Both Black and Colored. THE BLOUSE WAIST ‘Written Exclustvely for The Evening Star. ENT HAS COME, F and with it lassitude. least about all that @ woman wants to think of is a house gown and the heav- enly restfulness of its becomingly loose folds, after the mad whirl of “best gown functions” that marked the dast week of the season. No dress fits, nor how comfortable it feels, it wears on one to be trussed up in one of the tailor made cloth or velvet creations from dawn to midnight, and without doubt helps to make a woman more nervous than she would be otherwise. Frock builders have been overrun with orders for negligee gowns for the last month, intended for the informal affairs that will lighten up the long afternoons ,‘or evenin’s,” as they put it in Washington, of the Lenten season. Some of these gowns are dreams of beauty, scarcely less elaborate than ball gowns and built along the same lines, except that they are usually made in one piece, so as to be easy to slip into, and are loose. Loose? Aye, there's the charm of them for a woman. She can don a teagown and curl up on the couch, or bury herself with her magazine in a big, sleepy, hollow chair, and If a caller is announced, all she has to do is to spring to her feet and shake her- self a iittle, like a dog that has been in the water, and the folds of her gown fall into place at once, and she doesn’t have to even stop to look in the mfrror to see if her bodice is twisted away from the center of the folds in the back, or pulled up from the skirt band at the sides. She wouldn’t dare lounge about in a stiff-boned gown. Every whalebone in it would be snapped, and the stiffening crushed, beside being so confining to the limbs as to make it ex- ceedingly uncomfortable to be anything but prim in it. For a dainty teagown that is inexpensive and yet dressy, this one in wash silk is pretty enough for any woman. It is lined throughout with thin cheesecloth, and is a dark blue and white, with a front of white silk, at the foot of which is a ruffle of cream lace, and just above the belt is a band of the lace let into the silk. The side fronts have a border of white lace. The sleeves are the new kind that slip down off the shoulder. The style is so simple that it might be used with good effect for sum- mer gowns, to be made of the pretty French and zephyr ginghams that come in such charming colors, with embroideries to match. By the way, gingham, both the silk and cotton, will be worn as much as ever the coming season, and the quality is almost as fine ag linen. The colorings are simply exquisite, and are warranted to wash. May be they will, but more likely they won't. The dimities that came back last year, looking as though they might have been for a@ hundred years in the old oak chest of “mistletoe bough” fame, will haunt every ‘woman again this season with their sheer prettiness. The colors are so very lovely, tiny sprigs of forget-me-nots and bits of heather and heliotrope; now and then a running vine in tender green, like smilax, and a few patterns have a long, fine spray of fern. You never see dimity with a big, coarse flower on it, like a poppy or a chrys- anthemum. To go with these beautiful fabrics are gauze ribbcns. Gauze ribbons look as though a breath would blow the blossoms that are embroidered on both sides alike right off the flimsy thing; yet it isn’t a bit flimsy, but is firm and fine. The great grandmothers of the present generation used to wear it, and the colo- nial dames probably paid a pretty penny for it, as it is all imported even now, if price ‘tells anything. You might most’ as well trim your gowns and bonnets with greenbacks, and done with it. The flower printed ribbons grow in favor for the long floating sashes that now adorn most of the house and visiting frocks—the light ones, of For the nonce at| matter how well aj course. There are a few ravy blue and black ribbons printed with bright colors, but they are not half as pretty as the light ones. Black crepon gets crazier in effect every new importation. It comes now in a kind of wiry silk gauze, with perfectly im- mense creases in it, only equaled by the awful price of the beautfful stuff. Of course, the handsomest is black. There are colored crepons, but black is the richest in effect, and it is so wide that, after all, it does not cost so very much more than nar- rower silks. The bodices are usually of something else, and the fancy of the hour is to wear black all by itself. That is, to not mix other colors with it, not even white lace. Black will be very popular all season. Black silk, the old favorite peau de soie, and brocade satin, and even gros grain, will be a great deal worn all through the summer. The wash silks come in an in- finity of colors, and so cheap that every- body can afford them. In fact, they are so cheap that one wonders if they will wear well. But, to get back to tea gowns, an ex- tremely elegant one for more ceremonious wear can be fashioned out of black satin with a white satin front and garniture of Vandyke lace and black satin ribbons. It would be quite handsome enough for almost any at home affair. For a young lady something on the Grecian order, made of soft white or striped silk in col- ors, with a girdle of black velvet and puff- ed sleeves, would be girlish and pretty. The pieces that fall from the shoulders in frcnt are simply loose widths of silk that come to the floor. For real solid boudoir comfort, however, this charming neglige is fashioned. It is of warp-woven striped China silk, and is trimmed with lace and ribbons in profu- sion. It is so nice to wear when you have just a few moments to slip off your dress waist to rest. A perfect love of a gown for getting into quick, and comfort after its two fastenings are joined is the semi- empire gown, which may be made of xny soft silk or challie. The short belted waist and the cute puffed sleeves make it a quaintly.lovely gown, suitable for maid or matron, if the fabrics are wisely chosen. Of course, you know that the blouse waist is going to be the most popular ar- ticle of dress worn, excepting the Eton jacket. At present most of these blouse waists are made with a lining and have a plain back. Later in the season, when ‘he lawns and muslins and dimities come to be made up, the lining will probably be left out, and more frills and furbelows put on them. Here is a charming design for a thick blouse; one made of surah or henriet- ta cloth.or a light-weight taffeta. The back is perfectly plain but for one plait, with the narrow girdle across the back, slightly rounded in the center. The cuffs have an edging of lace, which forms a ruffle, and the lace finishes the edge cf the yoke in front. There is a box plait down the middle of the back and the waist fastens under that. CLUBS FOR WOMEN. Where They Keep Posted in Regard to Current Events. From the Ladies’ Home Journal. A simple organization, and one of great interest, is called “The Newspaper Club.” The members are bound to carefully read the news of the day as stated by the pa- pers. One member is assigned the foreign news for one week, another the political doing of our country, a third has charge of the book reviews, while others must study up the records of the lives of men and women at the moment most prominently before the public. In this way women are brought closely in touch with the life of the world and lifted above local prejudice and tradition. In some neighborhoods what are called “Rocking Chair Clubs” obtain. Such organizations haye no object other than the cultivation of friendship among women. The motto might well be the words of Emerson, ‘Conversation—what is it all but that?” One member reads aloud while the others sew, but part of the time is deyeted to the good old fashion of telling the individual experience and passing on the helpful thought, the title of the book er article found of service, the useful re- ceipt or the personal discovery of new methods of value in the home. In one club what has been called the “Three D’s— Dress, Diseases and Domestics,” were pro- hibited topics, and no woman wag allowed to quote her husband or chronicle the say- ings and doings of her children. In anoth- er neighborhood, where most of the w men were young mothers, the little ones ‘became the principal subject of discussion, and that most charming work, “Mothers in Council,” became almost the handbook of the organization. ——— Some Other Day. There are wonderful things we are golng to do, Some other And harbors wi ope to drift into Some other day. With folded hands and oars that trail, We watch and wait for a favoring gale To fill the folds of an idle sail Some other day. We know we must toll if ever we win ome other day, But we say to ourselves there’ Some other day And so, deferring, we loiter on, Until at last we find withdrawn The strength of the hope we leaned upon ‘Some other day. And when we are old and our race fs run, Some other day, We fret for the things that might have been done Some other day. We trece the path that leads us where The beckoning hend of a grim despair Leads us yonder, out of the here, Some other day. —ALFRED ELLISON. A Grand Forks, N. D., dispatch says the question of seed wheat for the coming sea- son is becoming a serious one to many farmers in some parts of North Dakota, and the idea of bonding townships to se- cure seed wheat has been and is still being agitated. In some townships the scheme of bonding m2ers with more or less oppo- sition. There are some townships that is- sued seed grain bonds in 1801 that have not as yet been paid in full by the farmers who received assistance at that time. The citi- zens of Foreman, the judicial seat of Sar- gent county, considering the present con- dition of the farmers in their immédiate vicinity, have commenced to agitate the question of bonding certain townships, and elevator companies have made known their willingness to ald all such farmers by fur- nishing wheat at low rates. TRAINING BOYS Some of the Difficulties That Parents Must Overcome. LACK OF TACT AND OF PATIENCE Mothers Who Are Good, but Not to Their Sons. FUTURE GREATNESS Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HEN I GROW TO be a man like my papa, I am going to beat my mamma!” That was the as- tounding information )eet to me by the son of a friend f) as I sat waiting for her to appear. Just then she came in and the lad, a boy of five, struck at her with his toy whip, leaving o long red mark across her hand. “I don’t know what I am to do with Milton,” she said to me, after a reproving “darling, don’t you know that hurts mam- ma?” to the vicious youth, who walked over to the piano and began snapping his whip about its polished legs. “The child is so high spirited and is so masterful! Why, we hardly dare correct him at all any more, it makes him so angry. My husband says he will make-his way in the world, because if he can’t do it by fair means the will by foul. Why, he frequently threatens to shoot his father, even now.” And, with a laugh, as though the child's “masterfulness” might be a good joke, that misguided mother began to discuss the National Council of Women, while the “high-spirited” youth sat glowering in @ corner, banging his heels against the legs of a dainty enameled chair. I know what I would have done with Milton if he had been my child. I would have taken him to the remote regions of the woodshed and given him a spanking that would have kept him warm the re- mainder of the day! There are some chil- dren you can control by loving words and gentle admonitions, and there are some others, Miltons, for instance, who can be managed only by brute force. “The boy makes the man, and so my husband says ‘we must not punish Milton too severely. or it will break his spirit,” this friend of mine told me once, when Milton wantonly threw a tea cup at Rose in ‘Bloom's cat, just to see it run, and splintered a favorite mirror, as well as smashing the cup. I shook him till his teeth chattered, and put him in a chair so hard that he didn’t get over his surprise during the remainder of the day. He was meek as Moses all the time, too. Indeed, “the boy” does makes the ‘‘man,” and the boy who is fairly born, with no hereditary warping, is often feft to the mercy of his own will to grow twisted and stunted in sensibilities for the lack of training, that every tiny ‘sapling needs, no matter how fine the seed from which it springs. Watchfulness and constant ad- monition is the price of well-trained chil- dren, as well as gently bred grown people. An Early Beginning. Old Isaiah evidently understood that, for he said of the government of the people: For precept must be upon precept, precept upon precept; line upon line, line upon line; here a little and there a little.” The repe- tition reads monotonously, and one is in- clined to wonder a little at it, for the Bible is not given to verboseness; but when one remembers how a mother has to train and drill, with her line upon line, and how even grown people have to be continually ad- monished of erros and infringement of the laws of the land, that we come to un- derstand how the sum of life is made up of that “precept upon precept” repetition. In company with a philanthropic friend, I once visited a slum district in New York. My friend’s heart was wrung with anguish for the unxempt and wollish little children we found there. She grieved over them all the way home. ‘How can we hope to make our government the. purest and best on the earth, and reform our great cities while the yery fountain head, the children, are bred in the midst of crime and degradation? Why, do you know that after I had fed that impish littie youth, and emptied my bon bon box in his dirty paw, that he stole the silver bow knots off my card case while we were assisting his poor mother to eat her dinner? It is just dreadful to think that they have no more idea of gratitude than that.” We had been home but a short time when an old woman, a beneficiary of my friend, called, and the*servant was ordefed to get a small piece of silver from the “poor box” on the mantel. The silver was not to be foundghowever, and another piece was substituted. “I presume Roy has taken it again,” remarked my friend in a resigned tone. “I try to supply him with all the toys and candy he wants, but some- times when I am out he takes the money from what we call the “poor fund” and goes shopping for himself. I have told him that it was almost the same as stealing, but he does not seem to think so.” Soon, Roy made his appearance with a bag of candy, a toy balioon and some marbles. “I matched for these,” he remarked, as he threw the marbles in-his mother’s lap. “I hooked the silver out of your poor box again. You had better put it out of my reach, if you want to keep anything in it.” “Oh, Roy! You are too smart for any- thing,” was his admiring mamma's re- joinder, as she smoothed back the hand- seme little fellow’s hair. “But what do you mean by ‘matched,’ my son? I hope you came by the marbles honestly.” The Parent's Duty. “Of course,” was the quick reply. “It’s low down to impose on anybody. Willie and I matched pennies for them. Nothing sneaking about that.” And with another kiss he went off to his plays, with not a word of reproof from the woman whose very soul had been moved with compassion for the untutored ittle wretch who had stolen her silver bow knots after she had fed and warmed him; a ragged little out- east, whose highest conception of heaven was a full stomach and immunity from ar- rest! Yet of the two children, her own was the more degraded, for he has been taught better, and was bright enough to determine between right and wrong. His mother was to blame, too. She knew that the taking of the money distinctly set aside for an- other purpose was no better than stealing, for she had so suggested it to her son, and when she weakly admired his “spirit” and complimented his “smartness” in appro- priating something that did not belong to him she was by so much blunting his moral perceptions and losing her own influence over him. The “line upon line” a little se- verely admjnistered right at that moment might have’ taught her son a lesson that would ‘have stayed with him awhile. Boys will be men, and no mother wants her son to grow to be a bad man. The only way to avoid it Is to begin with the boy ex- actly as you would with a girl. Teach him to be truthful, persevering, self-reliant and polite. I would give my boy and my girl the very same training in mental and moral lines. It makes the boy gentler and more polished, while it makes the girl stronger and more self-reliant. It is quite as neces- sary, in my opinion, for a man to make a good appearance in society as for a woman. Teach your boy how to sit at the table. Show him the approved manner of holding his knife and fork, when those articles of table furniture may and may not be used, and how to use a spoon. Do not put him off with an ignorant servant to acquire bad habits, which will mortify you and bring disgrace upon him when you chance to take him visiting. While you are instructing him how to eat see that you practice what you preach, for little pitchers have large eyes as well as ears, and example is a great deal more to them than precept. Encourage Self Respect. Teach your boy to be polite. A boy who doffs his cap to an acquaintance, and gives a pleasant morning and evening salutation, as well as polite answers to questions, stands a great deal better show to succeed than a churlish, awkward lad, who really knows twice as much. Teach your boy to be neat in his personal appearance, and impress upon his mind the sanitary effect this in a perfectly acceptable way you must keep him supplied with neatly mended clothes, and clean ones. Cultivate in your son a love for the beautiful by making his room as artistic as his sister’s. I have seen the rooms of boys in well-to-do families that were as bare of adérnment as a barn, and were furnished with the cast-off stuff from other parts of the house. You can’t expect;a. poy to be self-re- specting unless you Tegpect him and his likes and dislikes. If he sees that you put him off with things that nobody else will have, it lowers you in his opinion and gives his self-esteem a blow. Of course, a boy dcesn’t want a lot of girl’s knick knacks in his room to torment him, any more than his sister would want a lot of boy’s traps in hers. But you will find that he likes pictures and pretty carpets, nice toilet articles and easy chairs and couches just as well as any girl. If he does not, there is something radically wrong in his rear- ing. You must teach him to like those things; it should be a part of his education. Quite as much so as teaching your daugh- ter housewifely accomplishments. The boy who has not learned to appreciate a nice home is more inclined to leave it early, to shift for himself, and soon drifts from bad to worse. Never laugh at the mistakes of your children, cither boys or girls. It makes you mad as a hornet to have people laugh at your well-meant efforts, and you cer- tainly can’t expect a child to have any more sense than yourself. If their opin- ions are erroneous, point out their mis- takes as gently and conservatively as pos- sible, with just as much regard for their feelings as though they were adults. I have known children to be made secretive and sullen because they dreaded to be laughed at. Of course, this made them awkward and_ self-conscious, and one mother said in the presence of a singularly sensitive but backward child that he “mor- tified her to death with his diffidence.” The little fellow shrank back af though she had struck him, and the look in his eyes was positively murderous. Influence Over Boys. A mother with so little tact ought to be mortified daily and hourly. Her little son is, In fact, only a small edition of herself, for she can say the most inapropos things of any one of my acquaintances; and a wo- man who does not know things herself’ can’t be expected to have well-behaved children. Indeed, the common sentiment expressed when children are particularly atrocious is “that they could have had no training at home.” The mother who has the true motherly instinct likes to have her sons by her, and to introduce them to her friends and guests. No matter how awkward and clumsy a boy is, if you can interest him in helping you entertain your guests, and he feels that you are not ashamed of him, he will acquire a certain smount of polish, and will gradually gain self-possession and self-confitience. Be as careful in the selection of friends for your boy as for your girl. Bad friends will undo all your good werk. Invite his companions to meet him in his home, and interest yourself in them as well as in him. You can get a great hold over him in that way. Give them good books to read, and supply them with pleasant games and a place to play them. Keep your boys oft the streets, night and day. They should no more be permitted to roam about after night than your girls; and if you have taught them to remain indoors at night you have accomplished wonders. You have got to teach boys to do right from principle, and not from policy, unless you want them to learn deception. Teach them to be champions of right under any and ail circumstances, and that the influ- ence of any act, whether good or b: have Its influence for all time aa ver get impatient or ugly wi our restless, nolsy boys. “Teach hear iol be as gentle as possible, but. do not nag them continually about it or you will drive them away from you. Atbey who is going to make any noise in the world is most apt to be a noisy fellow at Rome. It is simply his superabundance of animal life, his overflowing energy, and if you are’ wise you will try to put “it/to some good use instead of fretting and stewing over their noise and disorder, tillyto get any peace at all they are driven jnto the street to find companionship améng those who ap- preciate them. The ‘world’s greatest men have left undying testimony to the fact that they owed thelz: place and power to the influence of good mothers. Mothers who taught them to distinguish right from wrong, to- forget self aud made them re- sponsive to the finer sentiments. Not Good to Their Sons. There is a darker side to that picture of motherhood, too. Jails and penitentiaries have had as inmates the sens of good mothers, but mothers who were not good to their sons. ‘hey were women who hated noise and dirt and confusion, und who were glad to get the children “out from under foot,” it mattered not where, so that they Were not at home littering up the house. Women who never made any attempt to study the likes and dislikes of their chil- dren, who pampered their daughters and put their sons off “with anything, as boys "Mothers who didn’t like to have awkward boys around when they had company. Whose pariors were too fine for the boy to sit in, and thelr Gwn rooms too cheerless, so the street and saloon claimed them. Mothers who wouldn't be bothered with boys’ company, and who thought boys a great nuisance anyhow. Mothers who never tempered punishment with rea- sonableness, or severity with sense, but who blindly asserted that right was right and wrong was wrong, and never found any intermediate ground upon which to meet repentant erring sons. A good mother can sometimes be very cruel. Mothers of beys have a hard row to hoe, because they can never relax their vigils for an instant till the son has come to man’s estate and marks out a row for himself. But if the start is made right,and the proper influences thrown around’ the boy from his very birth, the earlier years will be the hardest ones. Henry Clay once said that he never met a boy without feeling like doffing his hat to him in def- erence to his probable future greatness. ‘The true mother will magnify her charge and imagine she is rearing a hero, of whom the world is to be proud. SENORA SARA. ee Friction in the Kitchen. “You’se a sassy nigger.” “You’se no good black trash.” ‘The housemaid and the butler glared at each other. The deadly insult had been passed. What would happen next? : Such was the inharmonious situation of affairs in the culinary department of a residence on Massachusetts avenue one morning last week. Nobody knows exactly how the dispute began. The cook said that the colored gentleman in charge of the pantry was somewhat addicted to flirta- tion, and this, notwithstanding the fact that he was a married man. When a lady is employed as “help” in a domestic es- tablishment, having beaux of her own, she doesn’t care about receiving attentions from a person who is well known to be a grass widower. Whether this theory of the cook’s be correct or not, it is certain that the mis- tress of the house, while sitting in the library, was much surprised to see the but- ler and housemaid enter the room to- gether. “He called me a no-good black trash,” said the housemaid. 6: 5: “She called me a sassy nigger,” said the butler. g The mistress of the mansion opened her eyes very wide and inquired: “What is all this about?” The housemaid put: her thumb in her mouth and made no reply, but the butler spoke up and said: “We come to see which of us you are goin’ to discharge.” ~ + The situation was a delicate one. The mistress looked thoughtful for a moment, and then she replied: “Fanny, you are a good maid. William, I find no fault with ‘you as a butler. Go right back to the kitchert both of you, at- tend to your work, and’ let me not hear another word of squabble between you.” William and Fanny did as they were bid. Honor was satisfied, and they returned to business amicably. No further trouble is anticipated. And the moral of this small story is that tact is a valuable possession to a housewife. . 2S Smuggling by Pneumatic Tires. From Black and White. The moderr smuggler carries on his ne- farious enterprises by daylight and scorns the lugger and the cave, choosing rather to put his trust in that harmless and necessary bicycle of the sort called “safety.” Fate, however, has dealt hardly with the young man who landed at Dover, England, and a lynx-eyed customs officer possessing that subtle intuition common to the race, viewed certain pneumatic fires with grave suspicion. His doubts proved only too well founded and inspection showed that the tires were inflated, not with air, but fine Turkish to- bacco. A PLAY IN ONE ACT. Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. Scene: A drawing room in New York. Time: 8 o’clochk am. A young man Standing by the mantelpiece. Enter a young woman. She—You here! He—Don’t be frightened. I arrived an hour ago on the Titanic. I got the servant to let me in, knowing you would come down to breakfast before the others. Ex- cuse my coming at such an hour, but I had a reason, perhaps a right. I left Ber- lin ten days ago especially to see you. I had to see you once more before—before your marriage. She—I am sure I am very glad to see you, although the hour is a little early. Your unexpected arrival startled me a little. Do sit down. How well you are looking! I am ever so glad to see you again. He—I don’t think I can be looking very well, for I haven't slept all night. (A pause. They both sit down. He continues:) We had a terrible passage over, and I am not a good sailor, you know. There were plenty of people on board who know you. But you are not looking at all well; I never saw you look so bad! She (laughing loudly)}—What nonsense! never felt so well in my life. He (incredulously)—Indeed! She—Why, certainly; why shouldn’t I? (At this moment the portieres are parted and a servant enters with a parcel and hands it to her. She opens it mechani- cally and takes out a bunch of bhie and white violets.) She (anguidly)—O! how perfectly de- licious! Aren’t they? Smell them. Did you ever see anything so lovely? He (softly)—Never, upon my word, never. But you haven't opened the envelope that came with them. She—Why should you wish me t6 open the envelope? Don’t I know already from whom they come? For do they not come every morning? They are his favorite flowers. z He—Why, of course, at least I suppose they must be. Only I—(a pause; he ledns forward and touches her hand). Louise! She (rising quickly)—Mr. Hollingsworth! He—Ten days ago in the streets of Berlin I made up my mind to come over here to see you. I knew, as soon as I received your letter, that if I did not come I should regret it forever. I foresaw this day and hour, when I should touch your hand, when I should see your brown eyes— She (taking a step toward the door)—Mr. Hollingsworth!! I really cannot let you go on. You have forgotten yourself! He (bitterly)—Forgotten myself! Yes, in remembering the past; in seeing your face again. But I respect your wishes; pray, do sit down. I beg your pardon; I beg your pardon. I know that I have no right now to speak to you as I have, unless—unless you give me the right. Sle—Give you the right, Henry—Mr. Hol- lingsworth, I mean—I do not understand you! What right can I give you? Really, really, it is unkind and unlike you to for- get yourself and speak to me as you have; you give me pain, for I don’t know what you can think of me. He—Do you remember what I said to you when we parted, six months ago? She—Yes. You said you would never see me again—(pauses). He—Was that all? She—Unless I were in trouble and you could rescue me. He—And I also said that even then I would not feel at Hberty to come to you unless you sent for me; didn’t I? She—You did. And you have not kept your word, Henry. He—Are you quite sure of that? She—Yes, perfectly. In what manner have I sent for you?~ Not that I am sorry you came—oh, no, indeed! far from it, Henry, for are you not my old friend? But it never was quite fair in you to say you would not see me again unless sent for. ‘You knew how much I valued your friend- ship. But your last words to me prevented my expressing a wish to see you again, for they distinctly announced your intention to attribute to any such wish of mine a cer- tain further signification. And that, of course, I objected to. So, when you say that my letter to you told you to come to me— He—I beg your pardon; I did not say that. 4 She—Oh! Excuse me! I thought you id. He—I simply asked you if you were quite sure that I had broken my word in coming to see you. She—Which amounts to the same thing. But I fail to see how you make it out that I sent for you—did my letter to you do anything more than announce my engage- ment? He—nothing. She (in great confuston)—Then—why are you here? He—Because your letter was so short. She—I fail to comprehend. If you mean to infer for a moment that I sent for you, you are wholly mistaken. You have no right to assume any such thing. What imaginable trouble am I in, as your com- ing seems to imply? And why this bitter tone, Henry? Come! we must be friends, and ‘you must wish me happiness; won't you? He—Friends! We are no longer friends, (Pauses.) You ask me what trouble- you are in. I believe that you are in trouble. I believe it from the unconscious betrayal of it in your letter, from what I read be- tween the lines. Louise, you must hear me! I have come to tell you again, and for the last timg, that I love you; that I love you more than ever— She (rising)—Stop! Stop! Mr. Hollings- worth, what are you saying! Do you know that I cannot listen to you without feeling that you do not respect me? You must go; you must go. Oh, why did you come here to tell me this? He (interrupting)—Oh, do not say that I have no respect for you! Only listen to what I have to say! I beg you, Louise— She—I have no right to. You must see that yourself. Oh, go away, I implore you! It isnot fair; it is not right. (She puts her handkerchief to her eyes and turns away. He looks at her defectedly. At this moment the door opens, and a servant enters and hands her another parcel. She epens it and takes: out a small box made of pearl inlaid with gold. Unlocking it with the gold key that was in the lock she finds it packed with white violets, and lying in the midst of them fs a ruby neck- lace with a dazzling diamgnd heart at- tached.) She—Oh, how exquisite!!! How superb! I never saw anything so beautiful in all my life! never, never. (Shows it to Hollings- worth, who utters an involuntary exclama- ticn of delight. They sit down on a sofa tcgether.) $he—Did you ever see anything like it anywhere! It is my wedding present. (Goes on examining it, breathless with ex- citement. Hollingsworth watches her nar- rowly for some time.) He (to himself, sadly)—Ah, I was _mls- taken! I would have done better if I had stayed away. (Aloud) Well, I must go. She (still examining the necklace)—Go! Don’t go, Harry. fie (bitterlyy—Oh, don’t! Why do you make things harder for me? Yes, I must go. I am afraid that I have been wrong- ing you by some suspicions that I had about you. She—What suspicions? He (begins to speak, but stops in hesita- tion). She—Don’t go until you tell me. He—It would do no good. She—How do you know? He—No; I must go. She (still looking at necklace)—Will you tell me something before you go? Why did you never write to me after you left me last November? He—Because the first letter should have come from you. She—You forbade me to write to you, and I obeyed your wish. He—Ah! it was not that which prevented you! It was indifference. But you had a right to do as you liked; and what good would it do now for me to repeat to you my suffering? But before I go I will ask you tc forgive me for suspecting you of weakness and of not knowing your own mind. These were the suspicions that I spoke of just -now. I can only say, in ex- cuse, that I thought that I detected, be- tween the lines cf the letter you sent me telling me of your engagement, a—a cry for help—yes, nothing less than that! (She drops the necklace and turns with flushed cheeks toward him. He falls on éne knee before her and continues): Louise, Louise, my darling, once more I ask you to hear me. I cannot go without telling you frank- ly that I do not understand how you can be in love with—with this old man, and his diamonds!” She—Ah! how dare you! He (takes her hand and covers it with Kisses). She—Please leave me. Leave me, I say! ry 17 and influence of sdap Sn . THE RESCUE. MARGH, APRIL, MAY Paine’s Celery Compound Makes People Well! It MakesStrong Nerves and Pure Blood; It Cures Disease! It is the One Remedy That All Schools of Physicians Prescribe, The Demand for It is Tremendous; ‘Tt Never Fails to Benefit. Nothing Was Ever So Highly and Widely Recommended! First Prescribed by America's Greatest Physician. It Has Become a Blessing to the Entire Country. Men and Women in the Highest Stations Publicly Recommend It. Grateful People Everywhere Heartfully Endorse the Famous Remedy. It makes people well! It builds up the weakened, shattered nerves; it sends new life and blood through the arteries. Where everything else has failed Paine's celery compound—the greatest achievement of that giant among men, the ablest physician of this genera- tion, Prof. Edward B. Phelps, M.D., LL.D., of Dartmouth—this wonderful Paine’s celery compound has in thousands of cases cured disease. It has freed old age from many of its Infirmi- ties. It has made thousands of lives worth living that were once a burden. It has proven itself 50 easily the greatest of all spring remedies, making the weak strong and the infirm well, that in the big cities, New York, Chicago, Philadelphia, Bos- ton, St. Louis and the rest, the leading newspapers, making their own canvasses, have found that the demand for Paine’s celery compound is enormdus, as far su that of any other remedy as the curative power of this great compound “does in- Gisputably surpass that of any other. For Paine’s celery com) is not a patent medicine. It is not an ordinary tonic, sarsaparilia or nervine. It is 80 superior to them all that they to these troubles are directly traceable to the cal the blood and poorness of nervous tissues. troubles 1t is the most infallible of the jeommes of this, betabiotn amore the once progress of wn among tseues ot the Kidneys to ite remarkable nutritive jclency. Just as soon as Paine’s celery compound ins its strengthening work there is at once a ao of all the lmnportant organs of the body. ‘The petite Improves, the spirits become more hopeful, the dull pains Of disease lessen, sound, refreshing sleep returns, “that. tired, worn-out feeling” de- parts, and the sufferer Knows, without being told ¥ a physician, that he or she is getting well. ‘The season of March, April and May—the spri: time, when if one can do so he must recuperate lost ‘strength and get back the health that nature intended for him—that season is here. It behooves every woman and youth now to well, And Paine’s celery compound. makes people well. a2 He (tenderly)—I can’t (putting his arm around her). She (yielding)—Stop! You have no right. He—I can’t, Louise. She (sobbing)—Oh, don’t leave me! Don’t, don’t, don’t! (Buries her face on _ his breast.) —_ THE VISITING CARD. The Etiquette That Governs the Use of the Pasteboard ‘What remains to us, therefore, in the in- ability to meet personal demands, is the un- satisfying interchange of cards, writes Mrs. Burton Harrison in the Ladies’ Home Jour- nal. Whatever stops, cards must go on fly- ing between the houses of acquaintances who have not time to be friends. Thé simplest method of harmonizing all diffi- culties in this matter is for the house mis- tress, once in a season, to send a card to every one upon her list, and state upon what day or days she may be found at home. This done, there is really no claim upon her to do more, either in the way of calling or writing, except to those she chooses to single out. No one can reason- ably be offended with her, if, as we are presuming, she be wife, mother, patroness of many charities, and desirous of claiming a few hours of her daily span for her own personal uses. The rule for sending cards would seem to be simplified by remembering to return one of a lady’s and two of her husband's for every. invitation of a general nature re- ceived. After the envelopes containing these have gone into the mail there is a sense of complacent virtue of the most fortifying sort. To especial invitations, to dinner, luncheon, dances, and all enter- tainments where favor of an answer is requested or expected, the sending of cards is quite out of place. ‘A sheet of note paper containing a written regret or acceptance is a thing of necessity. After weddings or on the receipt of wed- ding announcements, now so common, cards are sent both to bride and groom, and to the elders in whose name the announce- ments have gone out. Cards left at the door are generally considered sufficient after a bereavement in a family, the writ- ing of notes on such occasions being gov- erend by the extent of intimacy, or the amount of feeling excited. Perhaps I may as well repeat in this connection that the rule in leaving cards on all ceremonial oc- casions is that one of the wife’s shall be accompanied by two of her husband's, un- less the lady to receive them is a widow or an unmarried person, in which case one card of the husband accompanies that of his wife. It is going out of fashion to turn cards down at the corners to express a call in person. A young man, visiting alone, generally leaves two of his cards, one for the lady of the house and one for her hus- band. oe -—__ A Curious Hobby. From Tid-Bits. ‘The German emperor, whose hobbies take various directions connected with engineer- ing—marine, locomotive and military—pos- sesses a splendid working model of a rail- way, with engines, cars, points, signals and stations. This he works ostensibly for the amusement of his children—in reality for the pleasure and recreation it affords to himself. The designing.and working of small steam or oil launches is another of the German emperor’s favorite pastimes. Of these he possesses a large number. He has recently given an order to a famous Thames builder for a little electric launch, which, when finished, will be as ge furnished and speedy a little a craft joats, In the palace gt Berlin the whole aoe space of one great room is frequently the arena for the make-believe maneuvers of whole troops of az soldiers, with mimic cannon, art{lfery, &mmunition wssons, tents, fortresses and all the pomp and panoply of modern warfare. WRITING A NOVEL. Crawford Describes His Method of Work. From McClure’s Magazine. “What,” I asked, “is the germ of a novel for you?” “It is a-character, and not a situation, which generally suggests a novel to me I think that in most cases my characters are portraits of real people in imaginary situations; that is why they cannot be reo- ognized by the originals, because they are out of their usual environment. There are two exceptions to this way of conceiving a novel; as I have already told you, “he Tale of a Lonely Parish’ and ‘Marzio’s Crucifix’ were suggested to me by the real back- ground.” “Won't you tell me,” I asked, “how you go to work to construct one of your novelas do you see the end from the beginning, work toward it?” “Since my first novel or two, I always see the end of the story from the start. When I have thought it over in this way, I take a large sheet of paper, and, having deciaed on the size of the book, I make up my mind that it shall have—say twenty-four chap- ters. Along the left margin I mark the numbers of these chapters, one under the other, a line for each. If it is to be in three volumes, as most of my novels are in England, I place a horizontal mark after each eight chapter numbers. That indicates the volume. Then, after the manner of a playwright choosing what he calls his ‘curtain situation,’ I decide on the culmi- nating incident in each volume, and also de- cide in which chapter it shall fall, and place a catch-word indicating that situation on the line with the chapter number. Then I fill in for the other chapters, a catch-word cr phrase, which indicates the minor inci- dents in succession that culminate in the major incident. Of course all these things do not come at once, and I may fill in, from time to time, after I have begun the novel. But when the skeleton is comparatively complete, I begin to work. Along the right- hand margin I write down the calendar of the novel, as it may be called, from day to day. If it is a novel in which the action takes place in a very short time, I write down not only the day of the month and week, but the hour of the day, so that the action of the story may move logically. With this skeleton of the novel before me, I write with great rapidity. Indeed, I have found that it 1 write a novel slowly, my conception of the leading characters may change from week to week, so that in the end the novel is not artistically so forcible or so complete as those written rapi¢ly, You will understand, of course, that after the novel is begun, I may have to shift the position of the leading incidents, end alter the general ararngement.” ‘Do you ever dictate?” I asked. “I dictated one novel under stress of cir- cumstances, and I do not think that I shall ever dictate another, for I consider it a relative failure.” Marion >=———o2e —___ High Prices of Postage Stamps. From the Pall Mall Gazette. Some high prices were realized at a two days’ sale of British, foreign and colonial postage stamps, just brought to a close at St. Martin’s Town Hall. The principal items were as follows: Ceylon 44, imperforate, unused, with original fom, magnificent specimen of great rari probably unique in regard to eondition, £130; Mauritius, postpaid, 2d. blue, ye large margins on piece of ouging i Cape of Good Hope, wood blocks, 14.: “ers ror” blue, with 4d. blue, the lattér tort, £65; Cape of Good Hope, wood block, “ef- ror” 4d. red, £52; Mauritius, large Alet, 2d. blue, £35; Natal, issue, 9d. blue, Tuscany, 3 lire, dark yellow, £80; 1852, 2 reales, red, unused, £20; 1851, 2 reales, red, unused, £82 The saan. prices ranged from about 10s,