Evening Star Newspaper, March 23, 1895, Page 16

16 THE SHIRT WAIST It is Very Much in Evidence in the New Styles. SPARKLE AND GLITTER OF DECORATIONS Eton Jackets Will Compete With Capes for Popularity. THE EXPANSIVE SKIRT Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. OBODY SEEMS TO New that Tril- by wore a veil when she posed for the “altogether,” but all the same there is a new veiling with an irregularly woven mesh in black, with dots at wide inter- vals, which is called the “Trilby’ mesh,” and every woman in Christendom who can raise a quarter of a dollar for a yard of it is going wild over it. It isn’t pretty, and it makes a woman's face look like a war map of China, as all such veils always do. The really swell dresser who understands the eternal ethics of beauty never disfigures her face or imperils her eyesight trying to wear fancy veiling. She sticks to the fine-meshed tulle with a dot or two or three placed very cunningly near the dim- ple in her cheek, or her well-outlined eye- brows, or at the corner of her Cupid's bow mouth, knowing that her bangs are kept in place and her skin apparently soft- ened by the filmy tissue, and none of her charms concealed. Some of the veilings Positively render hideous any woman who wears them. Here is the keynote of the season’s va- g@aries in costuming: “Sleeves differing from the bodice, bodices in contrast to the skirt, yokes contrasting with the lower tion of the waist, overdresses of dif- ferent color and material from the under- skirt, and variations of a corresponding character. serve to produce uncommon yariety in almost endless succession among the novel and stylish gowns, wraps agd hats for spring.” You see, “fashion” is a good deal of a go-as-you-please affair, but of course style” is a matter of adaptation. “You must.wear.your rue with a difference,” fou know, and what fs stylish and becom- ig to your friend may make you look like a fright until you have imbued it with your own personality—toned it up or down to suit your individual needs. One thing syre, rou can't miss it on blouse waists. The rilby craze, bad as it is, isn’t in it with the blouse waist frenzy. If your patience is unlimited, and your purse is deep, you can pay your mroney—anywhere from $ to $50—and take your choice of anywhere from 500 to 5,000 blouse waists on the coun- ters of any well-regulated shop. They all keep them; if they didn’t they might as well go out of business. But if you are a busy woman and have no time to bother with trying on “hand-me-downs,” as the men term ready-made clothing, just run in and get six yards of wash silk, four yards of French gingham and four yards of lb- erty silk, two yards of silk tissue, three yards of black velvet ribbon and four yards of valenciennes lace, with waist linings to match, and put them in your dressmaker’s Swivel Silk. then you will have for. afternoon wear a lainty wash silk in pink or blue or green or lavender and white, made with a puffed yoke separated by shirrs, the lower part thered on a foundation and into a belt, ith comfortable, loose sleeves. For morn- ing wear the French gingham, which laun- ders so beautifully, and for evening wear the dainty creation in silk and lace and velvet, with its oddly puffed and shirred sleeves of silk tissue. There will be no fit- ting to do. A dressmaker would faint if you said “fit” to her in connection with a blouse walst, for the beauty of them is that they ere made loose enough for com- fort, and the fol-de-rols scattered over the outside cover up all the wrinkles. These waists will average you about $5 each, mak- ing and all, but you will have the supreme satisfaction of knowing that, as they were made by your own dressmaker, she has got the ruffles just full enough -to hide your angularities and the puffs in exactly the right place to make you look plump. A year ago you would have been thought a little daft had you gone into a shop and asked for a dress skirt—that is, one without & waist. Now you can find almost as many skirts as waists. They come in crepon, the very craziest craze of all; for while it Is beautiful to gaze upon, it would take two maids and a footman to keep you looking presentable in one, because of its faculty of catching and holding every bit of dust and debris that comes your way. Even those that have hung in the suit racks for @ week or two are dingy-looking, so if you are wise and want a skirt that will go with you through the season you will not look upon a crepon with an eye to pur- chase. You can get hardsome stlk skirts, moire, surah, bengaline and taffeta, and any quantity of serge, from the fine Eng- lish importation to the cheap little unlined skirt, with its modest rows of stitching, which will be a friend to you as long as it hangs together, You can get the plain serge for two dollars, and the others cost from that on up to fifty. Very handsome skirts can be bought for ten dollars. A charming design for a swivel silk is to make the waist of longitudinal puffs, separated by a peading of ribbon, the puffed sleeves having a cap of wide lace and a frill of lace at the elbow. A pretty finish for neck and belt is of crush black velvet, or it may be of some shade of silk or satin that will harmcnize with the rest of the dress. The skirts of swivel silks are usually lined and stiffened exactly like the cloth and heavier dresses, which, of course, precludes all possibility of washing them. Fen’ and tell her to turn out three waists. THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY,,MARCH 23, 1895-TWENTY PAGES... In this instance the skirt is of striped swivel silk, the stripe being satin. One thing is settled. ‘Phe*Eastet-gowns: will sparkle and shimmer like a peacock’s plumage under their weight of iridescent galloon. Passementeries in silk, jet, tinsel ard perforated cloth and velvet will orna- ment everything. Nearly everything that has a sparkle or glitter that can be strung on a thread is used for decoration. Change- able effects are much sought after and imi- tation stones are used freely. Gorgeously Eton Jacket-Like. ~ rich is the verdict on first sight, but when you come to get these giddy garnitures out- side in the sunlight they will look as much out of place as a white kid slipper with a brown cloth street gown. Green seems to predominate. Green and black will be very popular, and just the right shade of green, one that is rich and clear, whether light or dark, com- bines well with black. Particularly green velvet, with which a narrow edging of jet is quite popular, when ‘the velvet is used in bands. For the dainty lawns and wash silks, a light yellowish green and white is to be much in vogue. . With the early Easter gowns, Eton jack- ets of black velvet lined with bright sill and edged with a narrow frill of lace will be worn. They will have leg-o’-mutton sleeves, and bave loads of jet and iridescent edgings, from under which the lace will fall. That they will be very handsome goes with- out saying, but they will never attain the popularity of the cape, which will rival everything else in the “covering” line, while the big sleeves with their preposterous stiffening are worn. Women still reject the idea of ¢rinolitie, with its hard ungraceful lines, but they have got to the point of “wiring” the bot- toms of their dress skirts, and it is a sight funny enough to gee a little five-foot woman in an eight-yard skirt, wired at the foot and swinging around her till she looks to be performing a perpetual skirt dance. |- A_ compromise with wire is feather bone, which is really much to be preferred, if anything has to be used. Here is the kind of Eton jacket arrange- ment that is both handsome and accommo- dating to the big sleeves. It is block vel- vet overlaid with cream lace, and has big Dresden china buttons. Of course it fast- ens down close like a dress waist. It is worn with a dark green crepon, and the hat is of braided silk in a green to match, with black velvet loops and green tip. —___+e+__ Children’s Summer Clothes. It will pay a woman who has a little money to spend to visit the stores now and lay in her supply of white goods and lawns for the children’s clothes. These can be made up so much more conifortably right now, while it is cool, than after while, when the “spring fever’’ strikes in and ren- ders one listless and indisposed to work. All kinds of cotton stuffs are cheap now, | but you want to be careful that you are not cheated in the buying. The women who launder fabrics for the trade under- stand their business, and they will make you discredit the word of the salesman and believe that cotton is linen and linen silk. Don’t let them fool you, either, into buying “silk-plated” stuff for lisle thread. The wash tub will take the “plate” off just as scouring brick will spoil silver plate, and a good deal quicker, leaving the commonest kind of cotton beneath. Test.the goods you buy by tearing it lengthwise of the fabric, and again crosswise. If it tears easily you may be sure that the stuff is rotten and not worth the making up. Of course, this advice has to do with linen and lawn and cotton fabrics. It will stand good also with wash silk. : ———_+e+—___ Wash for the Hair. It is quite the thing to have fluffy tresses again. To do that your hair must be kept scrupulolisly clean and free from all olly matter. A splendid wash for the hair ts to break an egg in a dish and beat it up, then apply to the roots of the hair with the fingers, rubbing it well into: the scalp. Have ready a big bowl of soft water, or water broken with some borax, and wash the head well in that, then rinse in two or three waters, but use no soap. Dry on hot towels and brush for an hour with a clean moderately stiff brush, being care- ful not to scratch the scalp too hard. After that process every hair will stand almost by itself, but at the same time will be glossy and sweet smelling, and you can do anything with it you like. Don’t bathe your head and temples in cologne, and don’t try to scent your hair that way, be- cause the alcohol in it will turn your hair gray, and burn out the natural oil. Above all things, don’t keep trying all the new patent medicines that are advertised to make the hair grow on the back yard fence, even. They may do harm, and they seldom do any good. od An Indian Reminiscence. From the Asotin Sentinel. In 1876, just prior to the memorable battle of the Rosebud, where Gen. Custer and 315 men lost their lives, the general detailed a scout to carry a dispatch to Gen. Terry for re-enforcements. The trip was to. be a hazardous one, as the route lay through a hostile Indian country. Gen. Custer, re- alizing this fact, told the scout to take any animal in the command and such arms and ammunition as he desired. The scout chose a mule, two 45-caliber Colt’s revolvers, and a cavalry carbine, and, being thus equip- ped, he went to the army physician and had him poison a bottle of whisky which he put in his overcoat pocket, which did good service, as the sequel will show. Early next morning as the scout crossed a tributary of the Tongue river nine Sioux Indians attacked and shot him off his mule. The Indians then carried the man to the base of a large tree, disarmed and robbed him and then took off his boots and com- menced to dissect his toes, but before they had completed their fiendish work the poi- son began to do its work, as all nine In- dians were found dead close to their victim. In a few days another scout was ent on the same mission and found the nine In- dians and scout as above narrated. —s00- A New Scheme. From Fliegende Blatter. An arrangement for regulating the mod- ern puff-sleeves. {PARADISE .OF ART Pauline Pry Goes on a Quest for Knowledge. A VII? 70 THE STUDIO OF AN ARTIST Something About the Senses in the Art World. TALK AT A MUSICALE ‘Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. WENT JOURNEY- ing in Paradise the past week,and I have learned strange things. Understand by Paradise I don’t mean the orthodox abode of the blest. I mean the world of artists, and not this as you get it at an art-exhibition, either, but as artists them- selves live in it. Here, I tell you, I learned strange things. For one thing, I learned that the five serses are altogether different from what I was taught they are in physiology at school. You may have an ear for music, and think doubtless that it is attached to your head. This is a mistake. I have learned that a musical ear is located in the spinal column. Then an eye for art; that is not so much in your head as it is in your soul, and even has a certain residence in your character. Also, touch, when it gets into art, is less in your body than in ycur soul, and as for taste, that is alto- gether a matter of soul. Art has a great deal to do with soul. I find paint, pencils, plaster, all those things don’t begin to have the value I had been led to think they have by some persons who pretend to use them and call them- selves artists. I owe these same persons a bitter grudge for having thus stood between me and self- consciousness in art, long, fruitless years. You see, until I went into Paradise the other day, I have believed that I was born without either an eye or an ear. I have never been moved to tap my foot or bob my head when the band plays, nor has it been my habit to break through the holy calm of a symphony concert, to nudge my neighbor, and with the whites of my eyes turned up to the ceiling exclaim, ‘Lovely, lovely—perfectly lovely—divine!” How, then, could I think myself a lover of music? That Detestable Technique. The same in art. How could I believe I had an eye, when lovers of art have never let me look at a picture or statue till I could see it, without assaulting my grop- ing sense of the beautiful with “fine per- spective,” “detail not half bad,” “excellent technique.” Oh, that destestable “technique!” It has almost spoiled creation for me, which, you know, is simply written down in Genesis as seen by the eye of divinity, and pro- nounced good without ever anybody point- ing out anything about the technique. Still, my soul was patient and humble. I said to myself, I will become an artist myself. I will grow an eye, since I was born without one. This was to teach me the blessing of total blindness. I found that to see art I must first see nature—not in its simple being ard love- liness, but relative to reproduction from my palette, and tha whole face of the bright earth became smeared with those nasty, oozing, vari-colored stuffs that art- ists squeeze out of small tin cans, to make trees, and sky, and men, and other animals on canvas. The deep, harmonious green- ness of the trees, in which my thirsty soul Bad been wont to find sweet satisfaction, row was resolved into horrible, impish ccnundrums of color that dispelled har- mony and created chaos. Then animals— I turned in desperation from landscapes to arimals, when painting the former grew to mean doing violence to my mother, the earth, and animals in their turn became in relation to art and me so many abysses of creation to fill me with awe that was simply unendurable. When I had painted @ cow on a placque, and nothing but the horns saved the beast from being a deer, and when I had also painted on a satin tidy a horse, that, through no will of mine, acquired a hump that made it a camei— why, there were months following this ex- perience that I couldn’t look at a beast of any kind without going half crazy with terror to think how easy and unconsciously I could make that creature something else by just keeping my artistic eye on him lorg enough to paint him. In a Studio. Thus did I pass a trying novitiate in art, and after all come out no artist. Still ear- less and eyeless, as I -had resigned my- self to being, there was ever in my soul, something urging me to try again, and Lent being the season when the necessi- ties of the soul naturally get in their heay- jest work, determined and disappointment- seasoned as the “Lost Peri,” I procured a small guide book of the Washington So- ciety of Artists, sought the president, U, 8. J. Dunbar, and now with the same Peri my exultant voice may sing: “Soy, joy! at last ‘tis done. The gates are passed and heaven’s won.” <I have an eye, and in Walter Paris’ studio I have found my long-lost ear, ‘When I started up the steep flight of stairs leading to the Olympus that is Mr. Dunbar’s studio, and the executive cham- ber of all the gods that go on earth under the head of the Washington Society of Ar- tists, a great hunger filled my heart, which was not so much for beer ‘and cheese as for the other more subtle delights of Bo- hemia. My spirit yearns for Bohemia as for its fatherland, and being a somewhat princk- ety spirit, it has groaned and died, and re- peatedly been thrown out of the wild coun- try, where marauding winds prey upon the good name of Bohemia and seek to make vulgarity and soiled linen the whole of its estate. Was I again to find no more of my “ain countrie,” I asked my soul, as I timidly knocked at U. S. Jove Dunbar’s door, and .was joyfully answered “nay” with the first peep that half-opened door gave me. Bliciting no response to my gen- tle begging to go in, I ventured a cautious nose, then a bolder chin, finally my whole head and body into the room unbidden. ee said my soul, “this is where we drink het blood of Mrs. Grundy and live alone with art.” The Art Eye. You cannot expect me to describe the place any more than you could reasonably expect a bride to give the equations of the honeymoon. But where was Jove—making thunderbolts or modeling men? If he would only remodel some of the latter! But, of course, that has nothing to do with art. Presently a groan, deep, awe-inspiring, proceeded remotely from behind a curtain. Reminiscences of haunted houses and the like being within easy call in me, I edged toward the door, and hadn’t quite caught my breath, when Jove himself appeared. I told him at once that I was looking for paradise, and hoped, incidentally, to get an eye for art. Then I was ushered into the inner sanctuary, and all was just as I have anticipated. I don’t get on first-rate with human beings, but I have always believed that if ever I got Jove by the ear he would understand me perfectly, and see that I’m not only just as good as I can be, but just as good as ever was made. Right off Jove said he was sure I had an eye concealed alcut my person somewhere, and this gave me courage, while together we went hunt- ing for it. “You know,” said Jove—he was working on a bust of Frederick Douglass—“you knew, you can’t expect everybody to have the same capacity for art, and whatever capacity you may have will not yield you any satisfaction if you don’t fill it up with that for which it was created.” “Yes, but there’s the rub,” I answered; “where are you going to find that for which it was created? Works of art, so far as I can see, are impotent and imperti- nent attempts of man to reproduce the works of the Almighty; and they just fill my soul with disgust and despair of hu- man_nature, Now, you tell me what do you see in art,-and what's the use of it?” case ‘An Abs Views. “Well”—squinting critically at the great head growing under his hands, from which he gouged a piece of the nose and made an eyebrow of it as he went on talking— “well, I think you might as well ask What's the“use iving, as'what’s the use of art. Perhaps ghere is no use. Only the impulse to reproduce, every, creature after its kind, keeps atggork just the same, and the artist works and lives with the rest. He takes a thought, an.emotion, an action, a breath, fixes it in marble.or in color, and nature is enriched by a new expression of her word.” “But does the artistdo this?” I interrupt- ed. “If he did, tse to me, I could see art.” “Not if you kept your eyes shut going alcng,” Jove retyrned—now he hada tin gun and was shooting water on the great man before him. “Moreover,” he contin- Yed, after he had 3tepped up on a chair, holding a death mask in one hand, while with a stick in the other he was poking up the great man’s -bump of veneration. “Moreover, the beautiful in art doesn’t fall in your face like a rotten apple from a tree under which you happen to look up. You wouldn’t expect to get the wealth of beau- ty and wisdom there is in Faust if you eculdn’t read the characters in which it is written, would you? No; and art has its a, b, c’s, and its grammar and rhetoric, and all that, too. Now, an artist sees in the variations of color and of form words that his experience interprets, just as you from a book read and interpret poetry. You've got to know the language to get the life of art.” I was being really inspired, and was about to have a thought when Roland Evans, who had been quietly combing his father's hair with something that looked to me like a fork—his father’s head, should mention perhaps, was being molded under his hands—this young man interrupt- ed to ask if it was time to “take Horatio King out of soak.” Artistic Disorder. “Goodness gracious!” I exclaimed, “‘you' don’t mean to say you've had to hock the gecd man?” Whereupon I learned that he was in soak merely in reference to being put on a pedestal. This interruption diverted my mind from art to its environment on Olympus, and oh! but I wish I had the nerve to throw housekeeping to the dogs the way Jove does! “If you were to put things in their place and clean up here, I suppose business would stop,” I said, and learned that a conglomeration of tools, tables, dead men’s features, living statues, drawings, odd legs, bands, ears and the stuff we’re made of —dust—over all, is really not confusion, but a@ broadened scheme of order like that which in the heavens makes a place for splitting worlds, shooting stars, falling meteors, flying comets and all that, you know. ‘Then I poked into three tubs standing along the wall, secretly bent on finding out if Jove took in washing on the side, and found under the clothes on top chunks of mud—I mean clay. That’s one thing I know better about art, whatever else I have missed. I'll never again speak of the sculptor’s potential clay as mud—Jove said there was really no bottom to my ignor- ance when I did. On the whole I was pushing into the mysteries of Olympus, I was being pur- sued by the spirit of despair, that fairly exuded from the pores of a life-size plaster cast of a woman kneeling in an attitude of such utter abandonment to the: hope- | a‘real comfért to havp-a funeral and the legitimate opp init; so afforded for shedding tears beforéfolks. “Now, that thing I can see,” I said, “though I still don’t see any use of art go- ing to work to make the world one thought sadder than it or es that work of art —that’s what it ti I“suppose—that’s vital and I'm kin to it. But, now, who on earth is kin to landscapes, waterscapes, cow- scapes and those; smooth, painty things that loads of people call art?” What She-Baw and Heard. “Why, I’m kin to ’em,” said Jove. “It's possible to paint just_as much truth in a bit of sky or"woodd or*water&3.there ts in all the Vedas. It’s juSt a matter of hav- ing the strings of ydtir soul tuned to the harmony of nature and the touch of the master in reproducing, {t. Bt, let me tell you this, it takes ja gad;to really put even @ cow on canvas. Anybody ean copy cows —paint cows, paint anything. But to bring the beast before the eye, so that he lives, it needs a soul behind the artist’s brush.” “You're a heathen, Jove, to thus preach transmigraticn by which human souls pass into cows, and how is the eye of a Chris- tian to perceive such things?” I asked. “Well, the next time you get a chance to look just try,” answered Jove. The chance came the next afternoon at a musicale at Walter Paris’ studio. Pre- vious to my awakening on Olympus, I would have gone to this musicale with a company smile fixed upon my face, the usual stock of explosive adjectives stored at my tongue’s end, and my soul groaning in travail to know “How long, O Lord, how long?” Now, however, my soul—that {s,of course, assuming souls to exist in women only as artists put them there on canvas—my soul was straining. What if I should see and hear also? I did both. I actually penetrated the ‘spirit of pic- tures on the wall until cows ‘‘moo-ed” for me and some bits of Maine shore became so vivid I could hear the twang of the na- tives in the distance, and feel the Ply- mouth Rock self-sufficiency of the Boston tourists there so true to life I was quite unhappy. Then, when the musical program began, and a woman with one of those contralto voices that elucidate the philosophy of the “Kreutzer Sonata” began singing, I still had no ear, but the quivers of delight radiating from my vertebral region all over my body caused me to exclaim to her when she was done, “That song went straight to my spinal column.” “Of course,” she answered; “that’s where your ear for music is.” And so at last my wandering ear was found. The music went on, and when the waves of sound sweeping from the strings of Mr. |.Paris’ violin, that led a sea of harmony from several other instruments, deluged my inner consciousness—set everything in motion—creeds, dogmas, ethics and opin- ions all afloat, leaving my will a tide to bear the first thing, good or evil, that came along down upon the structure, supposed to be enduring that is called character, it began to seem tc me as if my ear was perhaps too Isrge—asinine, maybe. However, when the number was ended, I caught a bit of talk that told me, even so, I am not alone in this extent of ear. “Really,” said she, “you know, I think the calender of deadly sins should be en- larged to include music." “Rather,” said he, “you might write it over with one word—music—the poten- tiality of all sin.” “Very true,” she answered; “still, as a part of divine worship its carnal nature is redeemed—makes your very fiesh and blood do reverence, don’t you know?” “Ol, no; it is atwayS sensuous, even in church, don’t youthink 2” “If you abstract the divine—certainly. But aren’t we talking beautifully.” “Beautifully, indeed—quite like a chap- ter from Oscar Wildé} I wish somebody could hear us.” = “Yes; sensuous is so nearly a wicked word.’ , “And when you couple the divine with it, really, you know, it’s actually profound.” Then the centralto sang again, and my ear continued to develop, until when the program was finished life relative to art for me ha@ just one coucern left. I noticed that the women I found wor- shiping art in paradise, all save the high priestesses who assist at the altar—I noticed that these women professing an eye and an ear for the beautiful were, if young, not themselves beautiful, and that for the greater part, they were old. What, then, With my eye and my ear discovered, am I now to believe of myself? Carefully sealed answers may be ad- dressed to PAULINE PRY. —__—>_—__ A Good Reason. From Tid-Bits. Contributor—“Pretty poem, isn’t it?” Magazine Editor—‘‘Yes, very; but we can’t publish it.” Contributor—“Why not?” Magazine Editor—‘Why, anybcdy can tell at the first reading precisely what it lessness of grief ae would have been FOR WAKEFU s Use Horsford’s Acid Phosphate. Dr. A. D. McDonald, Wilmington, N. C., says: “I find eight drops taken in water, on going to bed, will rest the brain and cause a quiet sleep.”” THE TIRESOME DON'T It is One of the Painful Inflictions of Childhood. LINTLE ONES A BOTHER, BU? THEN— Some of the Evil Effects of a Sys- tem of Nagging. A MOTHER’S INFLUENCE Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HEN I MAKE MY dishunary, it ain’t i goin’ to have a ‘be- i cause’ or ‘don’t’ in it,” said an irate lit- tle maid of four to her mother the other day, when I was there calling. I didn’t much wonder at her small rage either. The child is bright and active, one ofthe kind whose nervous little feet and hands must be employed all the time, else the still more active brain will be at work con- eceting mischief, to be carried out as soon as the chance offers. Almost every other word my friend said to me was interlarded with “don’t, Ethel,” and when Ethel asked vhy, as a child always does, the invaria- ble reply was, “because.” Ethel’s mamma said her don’t in a calm dispassionate kind of a way, like water dropping off a roof, it being just as easy to say that as to say something else. Her manner of saying “because” was just as colorless, and when the -child, cut off from all sources of amusement, had to sit onan uncomfortable chair and hold her small hands, the un- reasonableness of it all came over her with such force, that, after thinking profoundly for a moment, she announced her fell de- sigrs on Noah Webster and the “Century,” with a good deal of emphasis. “They makes me misuble,” she added, nodding her curly head, “and I hasn’t got any use for ’em.”” Poor little Ethel! And there are so many Ethels in the world. This particular one hed been shut out from the nursery, be= cause the baby was ill, and she found her stately mother but indifferent company. She loved pictures, but the books in the parlor were much too splendid for her to handle, and the selfish mother never once thought of getting a magazine from the stack in the library, just through the cur- tained arch. It was so much easier to say, “don’t, Ethel,” than to get the child some- thing to interest herself with. Then Ethel climbed up to look out of the window, but a beautiful palm occupied most of the space, and it was easier to say ‘‘don’t, Ethel,” than to move the plant a foot or two, to keep it from being broken. Ethel went to the piano and touched the keys lightly, Playing with one finger, the tune she had been praised so inordinately for learning ‘by herself. She had every reason to believe frcm former experiences that I would be overjoyed to hear it. But her mamma had no desire to show off the accomplishments of her small daughter that day, so, again, she heard that odious ‘don’t, Ethel.” And each time the child, feeling the injustice of her treatment, asked “why,” and each time kad to content herself with the stereotyped “because.” . * No Place for Them. Every mother admits that healthy chil- dren should be amused, but it is a little sirgular that every mother, also, looks to somebody else to do the amusing act. Hu- man nature is the same no matter where you find it, or the age of it after it is found. The man of affairs has to be amused, and seeks it at the club or where he will be most apt to see his friends. The swell young sprout requires just about the same amusement now that he did when a baby; then he sucked his thumb, now his cane fills his mouth and his requirements. The school girl eats pickles and confides her small affairs to her seat mate; the youth devours half dime blood and thunder trash, and plays ball; the literary woman buries herself in the last review, and the society woman looks up a new victim upon which to practice her wiles. All this in the way of amusement. But the poor little weans, who are too big to lug around under the arm like a poodle, yet are not big enough to take pleasure in doing forbidden things, are the that we give-children the credit for bein; thé most ‘seristble. Z A Mether’s Influence. A charming society woman once told me that her success in her trying social posi- tion was all owing to her mother’s gentle tuition at the time when her character was forming and her mind in its most receptive state for retdining impressions. «We were yery poor,” she said, “and my mother, being a good seamstress, made our Hving-by doing fine hand sewing. She was @ lady in every sense of the word, and did not forget her early rearir ;, even when her fortunes were at their lowest ebb. All day long she bent over her sewing, and I play- ed about the room, my few playthings all being of home manufacture—we could af- ford no others: My chief delight was in Playing ‘great lady’ and ‘calling’ on my smother. My-trained dress—for, of course, all great ladies wore trained gowns, I thought—was my mother’s big gingham apron tied on behind. She made me a pair of mitts-of white pique, such as she used to wear when she was a child, and told me that a ‘lady’ always wore gloves when she went on the street. She taught me to keep my shoes ‘wéll varnished, as a ‘lady’ never wore rusty shoes, and asa lady never wore soiled clothes or ragged ones either, I was particularly careful of mine, and was ex- tremely happy when I found that I could sew up a tear in my apron or a rent in my eee frock quite to my mother’s satisfac- ion. “Mother taught me how to enter a’ room and how to leave it, how to bow, how to accept a favor; indeed, before I was six years old I think I had quite mastered every rule of ‘The Young Ladies’ Guide to Good Behavior,” and had learned a great deal about books, for my mother got at last to’talk to me as though I was a real ‘grown up.’ I was a restless child, and a noisy one, and in self defense my mother had to devise some means of keeping me employed. Of course, she could, not stop her work, but her method of amusing me was instructive to me, and helped to divert her own ming.. When I was ten years old my mother dfed, and the next six years were very hard ones for me. I had to work for my own living, and could not go to school, butthe taste for books that my mother had fostered in me, and the little that she had been able to impart to me, as she stitched away, was my salvation. Iam sure that her admonitions about what a ‘lady’ should or should not do, given as much to keep me quiet as with any thought of their after effect, perhaps, held me in check very often, end her gentle counsel and talks about the world and the people who made it a happy place to live in made me ambitious to be one of the prime movers in’ ft. I read ahd studied by myself, every moment I could get away from my work, and ‘when fortune at last turned a smiling face on me I was-quite ready to take the place in the world and in society that was really my right by birth. Effect of Nagging. “If my. mother had been like so many mothers, of the opinion that children should be suppressed, kept ignorantly quiet, or in the background; or if she had turned me loose to play en the streets, or to seek companions of my own choosing, sixteen of the best”yéars of my life would have been a blank. I have tried to teach my children as my mother taught me. When I must deny them anything, I tell them why, so that they may not think I am unreason- able, and I try to keep them employed, or else interest and amuse them, so that their meddlesome fingers will not be put where the nurse or myself must be constantly say- ing ‘don’t’ to them. Admonitions of that kind are no more to children, after awhile, than laws that haye no penalty attached, and, besides, I™~believe that a constant nagging of that king is absolutely injurious to child or man. have known children who -were actually nagged into being per- fect little terrors.’ There! That is the word I wanted. Don’t rag! It is worse to the temper than a per- sistent pin pricking is to the flesh. It would bea t deal better to acually bruise the flesh of your child in passionate punish- ment than to keep its temper black and blue with an everlasting thumping of “don'ts,” that finally callous it into utter indifference. If it must be denied a thing that it wants very much indeed, give it reasonable excuse for the denial, and then provide it with employment of some kind, either amusement or work, and it will soon forget its denial. But if you want to make a small anarchist out of it, just say “don’t,” and give “because” as a reason, as it flies from one forbidden thing to another, till both of you are worn out, and you, being the biggest and most powerful, spank it and call it possessed. Anarchy grows fat on that kind of treatment, and a child an- archist is the most difficult of all malcon- tents to deal with. SENORA SARAH. — SOUTHERN FROZEN SEAS. Survivor of the Wilkes Antarc- tie Expedition. There is living at Oxford, Md., Thomas Sinclair, seaman, a survivor, and perhaps the only one, of the celebrated Wilkes ex- ploring expedition when the so-called Ant- arctic Continent was discovered. Capt. Sole most disconsolate creatures on the face of | Charles Wilkes, United States navy, sailed the earth. They are too large for the | from Norfolk, Va., August 18, 1838, in com- nursery, and too small to go with the older ones. Mamma doesn't want them about | ™@"d of a squadron of five vessels and a her when she has callers, because little | Store ship, to explore the southern seas. pitchers have large ears. Cook won't have | Sinclair was one of his men. The expedi- them around under her feet, wanting to { tion visited Madelra, Cape Verd, Terra del taste things, and scrape the cookie pans, | Fuego, the Hawaiian Island: : q » is, the Samoan and nurse can’t have them upstairs, be- group and Australia cause they will waken baby with their noise, and so {t goes. Of course, I realize | December, 1839, Capt. Wilkes left Sydney the logic of all this, but there ought to be | 2nd sailed toward the South Pole and dis- some common serse mixed up with the | Covered what has been called the Antarctic logic, or it isn’t worth the title. I guess if | Continent, as it appears even today on the Ethel’s mother had been quiet for two| ™aps. For several weeks he sailed along whole minutes, say, when every nerve in| Yast ice fields. Landings were made at her bedy was jumping and clamoring for | 8¢veral places during this period, and Sea- something to do, and an enticing book of | ™2n Sinclair was one of the men who man- engravings tempted her to look at them, | ned the boats, and actually trod upon the- she would have got indignant, too, if some- | !cy fields of the Antarctic Continent. They body said “Don’t touch that,” and | Were not prepared to make any attempt to given “because” as the only reason why. exlore this ice tract in the direction of the You often hear mothers of restless little | Pole. ‘The expedition did much other explor- ones say that they believe that they are | !n&- It was gone nearly four years, arriv- “possessed.” Of what, pray tell? A simple | im& at New York June 10, 1812. Mr. Sin- desire to do something, to be kept busy, to | Clair was with the expedition all these have hands and brains occupied. That you | ¥€@'s, and has many reminiscences of the have a reason, and presumably a good one, for refusing your little one certain things is the best of all reasons why you should be able to tell the child why it must be d nied. Children get so used to the ‘don’ and “because” that they actually get the impressicn that the two words are only used to thwart them, and that no real rea- son lies back of the oft-repeated words. If mothers would but reflect, they must cer- tainly see that when a child arrives at the “why” period it recognizes that there are certain results from certain causes. When it questicns your refusal it is beginning to reason, and right there is where many pa- rents fail to do their duty. They tyrannize over their small subjects, and thus teach their subjects to do the same thing, in a smaller way, and also give inquiring minds a backset. They Can Be Useful. When your little one begins to get med- dlesome, requiring a constant repetition of the tiresome words, you may be sure that, like a scandal monger, It has got to the limit of its occupaticns, and its energies are bound to overflow in mischief. Then it must be amused somehow, either by inter- esting it in some new play. with a story, or by putting it to work. People who have no employment prey on their kind and get to be a nuisance. If this is so with people who have, or ought to have, ripened judg- ment and expanded powers, how much more it is likely to be true of the child, who for the first few years of its life is only imitative and has few mental re- sources—resources that too many parents dwarf by refusing to cultivate. In the first place, it is a mistake to sup- pose that children cannot be interested in little pieces of household work. A child of four can save its mother many steps each day. If taught thus early in life to make itself useful, and that its efforts are appre- ciated, it gradually gets accustomed to the idea that it is of some importance in the world, and you have probably saved your- self many anxicus moments. Children who have any realizing sense of their parents’ love, and of their own responsibilities as a factor in the home life, are not liable to get very far from the right path, and even if the old Adam in them does rise to the top occasionally, they subdue him much more quickly than the children who are never given reascns and are never taught to use their own reasoning powers, or to utilize their superfluous energies. Children should be taught to amuse them- selves in a rational way. It fs my firm be- lief that they should never be left long to their own devices, and that the moment they tire of an occupation or amusement, they should have a change or a diversion. Grown people get desperately tired of doing ore thing, or a half dozen things over and over again, even when they understand perfectly the logic and necessity, and sure- ly adults should be more reasonable than children, though our actions sometimes say voyage or series of voyages, and stories which never got into the books. He speaks of Capt. Wilkes as a very able commander and a very strict disciplinarian. As a rule, he was better liked by the men than by the officers. Indeed, after his return he was court-martialed on charges preferred by some of his officers, but he was acquitted of all except for illegally punishing some of his crew, for which he was reprimanded. Mr. Sinclair is considerably over eighty years old. His memory is good, and his mind strong and clear. ——__+e+_____. Written for The Evening Star. Laggard Time. Oh, laggard Time, when gray winds blow, And white the pinions of the snow In swirling stillness veil the eye, Pale silence blending earth and sky; ‘When boughs, pearl laden, bending low, Tease wooded streams’ ice-fretted flow, The days so drearily go by, Oh, laggard Time. But life and hope will be again When Spring returns and Gwendolen, Oh! tarry thou, with halting feet, When Joy and I together meet; ‘Thy gait will well become thee then, Oh, laggard Time. —W. H. CHa EE. PEOPLE WE KNOW. (From Geneva, N. ¥., Courier.) It is a pleasure for us to present to our readers the recommendation of so estimable a citizen as Elias Dolson of this place, knowing when he says that he was cured of rheumatism by the use of Dr. David Kennedy's Favorite Kemedy, it is 80. Hhe: matism is caused by an excess of acid in the blood; when it becomes settled in the joints the patient endures the most excruciating pain. Such was Mr. son's condition when he in the use of Fa- yorite Remedy, and, like many others who have followed the same treatment, be was cured. How many poor sufferers there are’ today who would give their fortunes to be relieved from the eerrors of this awful complaint, not knowing that this val- uable preparation can be obtained! of every dealer in medicine. Mrs. Dolson, as well as her husband, has a good word for Favorlte Remedy. Says she: “I have been troubled for years with indigestion and palpitation of the heart, and I used Favorite Remedy and was entirely cured.” One of our local physicians, in speaking of this medicine, recently said: ‘Dr. David Kennedy has produced’ in Favorite Remedy the only antidote of uric acid, and the reason it cures such a variety of complaints ts from the fact that it dissolves, this acid, expel m ‘stem, thereby curh pavorl ne edy aa ipa vorite Remedy is a never-failing specific in diseases of the skin, Iiver, Kidneys and blood. It restores the disordered liver to a healthy condition, corrects the worst cases of habitual consti it is a certain cure for the diseases and, weaknesses peculiar to women. It cures scrofula, salt rheum and eryeipelas. For nervousness, loss of sleep or that worn-out feeling it has no équal. In enses of rheumatism, dys » gravel, Bright’s disease, diabetes and bladder troubles it has cured where all else failed. Dr. David Kennedy's Favorite Remedy i sold at $1 a bottle, or six bottles for $5, which brings a treatrrent at a rate price. AYOUNGGIRE TRIALS. Nervous Troubles End in St. Vitus” Dance. rom the Reporter, Somerset, Ky.) Among the foot hills of the Cumberland Moun- tains, near the towm of Flat Rock; is the happy home of James McPherron. Four months ago the daughter of the family, a happy girl of sixteen, was stricken with St. Vitus’ dance. The leading physicians were consulted, but without avail. She grew pale and thin under the terrible nervous strain and was fast losing her mental powers. In fact, the thought of placing her in an asylum was seri- ously considered. Her case -has been so widely talked about that the report of her cure was like modernizing a miracle of old. To a reporter who visited the home the mother said: ~ “Yes, the reports of my daughter's sickness and cure are true as you hear them. Her affiction grew into St. Vitus’ dance from an aggravated form of weakness and nervous trouble peculiar to her sex. Every source of help was followed to the end, but it seemed that physicians and medicine were powerless. Day by day she grew worse, until We despaired of her life. At times she almost went into convulsions. She got so that we had to watch her to keep her from wandering away, and you can imagine the care she was. “About this time, when our misery was greatest and all hope had fled, I read of another case, al- most similar, that had been cured by a medicine known as Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills. Almost in desperation, I secured some of the pills, and from that day on the wonderful work of restoration com- menced; the nervousness left, her cheeks grew bright with the color of health, she gained flesh and grew strong both mentally and physically until today she is the very picture of good health and happiness. “It is no wonder that I speak in glowing terms of Pink Pills to every ailing person I meet. They saved my daughter's life and I am grateful.” The foregoing is but one of many wonderful cures that have been credited to Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People. In many Cases the re- ported cures have beep investigated by the leading newspapers and verifiel in every possible manner. ‘Their fame bas spread to the far ends of civiiiza- tion, and there is hardiy a drug store in this coun- try or abroad where they cannot be found. Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale People are now given to the public as an unfailing blood builder and nerve restorer, curing all forms of weakness arising from a watery condition of the blood or shattered nerves. The pills are sold by all dealers, or will be sent postpaid on receipt of price (0 cents a box, or six boxes for $2.50—they are never sold in bulk or by the 100) by addressing Dr. Williams’ Medicine Company, Schenectady, N. Y. IT’S LIKE THIS! If you've been able to save up a little money ut of your earnings it is very discouraging to be compelled to use that little for the purpose of furnishing your house—you'd almost prefer going without the furniture, but you needn't do that. Yeu can buy the furniture and carpets of us on CREDIT! ‘We won't charge you a penny more for them than you'd have to pay cash—in any other store. Let your little pile of money stay right where it is. Get everything rou need—of us— pay for it a little at a timc—weckly or monthly. No notes—no interest. All carpets made and laid free of cost— po charge for waste in matching figures. Plush or Haircloth Parlor Suites—choice, $22.50. Solid Oak Bed Room Suite, $13. Splendid Brussels Carpet, 50c. per yard. Reliable Ingrain Carpet, 35c. per yard. Made and laid free of cost. Solid Oak Extension Table, $3.50. 40-pound Hair Mattress, $7. Woven-wire Springs, $1.75. Baby Carriages, from §5 to $50.00 Yours for a promise to pay.- GROGAN’S MAMMOTH GREDIT HOUSE, 819-821-823 7TH STREET NORTHWEST, Between H and I streets. mhI9-Sta SILK WAISTS. P9OO® WE_RECEIVED TODAY NEW SHIPMENT OF = ‘B_ SILK WAISTS. 50 DIFFERENT STYLES, LARGH, STYLISH VES. IT WILL PA¥ (OU TO SEE THEM. THE HUDSON BAY 515 11TH N.W. $4.50. WATCH FOR “OLEAN” CAVE. wh22-50d SOEOEOESOS006 YOUR FAT Can Be Reduced. Washington Physicians In= dorse Dr. Edison’s Obes- ity Pills and Fruit Salt. Call at our agents and examine our supporting and Obesity Bands and learn about the treatment. Says James G. Lyou, ex-auditor of the Treasury Department: “I have worn Dr. Edisou’s Obesity Band and luced the size of my aldomen 10% inches. The Obesity Pills helped me to reduce over 43_pounds.’ Says Mrs. Cordclia Messenger, Secreta Metropolitan's Woman's Club, Author of ** Duty to Woman,” in a letter to Loring & Co.: “I have used {bree bottles of Dr. Edison's Obesity Fills and four of his delicious Obesity Fruit Sait and obtained wonderfully results. My strength was nearly gone from chronle kidney and liver trouble, brought on by Catarrh and aggravated by obesity, My physician said that I had fatty de- generation of the heart and kidneys; that I could only obtain partial relief and be comfortable, while the disease would ruin my life. After I had take three bottles each of the Pills and the road to fast recovery. As soon as I lost about 30 pounds of dangerous, unhealthy surplus fat I felt stronger and breathed easier when I walked, I no longer suffered from my old troubles feel T Wish that all who have 9990590000 0050000000 about well as ever. suffered as I have could know how much virtue the little sweet pills and the Fruit Salt contain.’* ‘Our goods may be obtained from G. G. C. SIMMS, cor. New York ave. and 14th st. MERTZ’S MODERN PHARMACY, 11th and F ats., Keep a full line of Obesity Bands, Pills and Fruit Salt in stock. Ladies will find a ‘saleslady here, MRS. L. V.. CODY, Parlors—1204 G st. u.w. Sent by mail on receipt of price. ‘The Bands cost $2.50 up; the Fruit Salt, $1 bottle, and Pills, $1.50 per’ bottle, or 3 boitles LORING & OO., 42 West 224 st., Department No. 74, New York. “Chicago, Departinent No. 34, No 116 State street. ja16-3m,60 Do You Know ‘That, in this big world, there ts no purer tea than BURCHELL'S SPRING LEAF TEA? Foat's why jt has so much strength and so lelicious a favor. It's better now than for many season. We receive orders for it from all parts of the country. Those who try it once can't get its equal here or elsewhere. Y_50c. POUND. cron ‘N. W. BU! 4a ‘or JRCHELL, 1325 F STREET.