Evening Star Newspaper, May 18, 1895, Page 18

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAY 18, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. THE BABY SHAD Its Development as Witnessed at the Fish Commission Station. WHY THIS FISH 18 $0 PLENTIFUL A Picturesque Phase of the Work at the Fishing Shore. HAULING THE SEINE Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. UST NOW, WHEN Clupea sapidissima— “most savory shad” —is most savory; when the river is so full of its countless schools that the fish- erman is abusing the same fates for giving him too many fish which he abused a few years ago for not giving him enough, is a favor- able chance to see fhow the fish you had yesterday probably got its start in life. You should take half an hour and drop into the central station of the United States fish commission to observe how some of nature’s methods have been improved upon by man, and how he has discounted her boasted economy. The large, stone-flagged apartment on the ground floor of the establishment is oc- cupied in part by six or eight large tables, each surmounted by a dcuble row of glass hatching jars arranged in series of twelve around small aquaria. The jars are from one-half to two-thirds full of shad eggs, which are kept in constant agitation by a stream of water introduced through a tube The Gillers’ Camp. connected with a general supply pipe above, id are joined by an overflow siphon to the aquarium, whither the young fish are con- veyed as soon as hatched. You may see, in the different jars, every stage of the entire process of development, from the condition just after fertilization, when the egg is no more than a tiny trans- parent sphere, about the size of a small pea, until the first shadowy outlines of the embryo appear and gradually assume the form of a fish, wriggling for a day or so with increasing vigor until it breaks the shell. It is so nearly transparent that without close observation you will see but Uttle of the animal except two very bright eyes, even so late as the third day, when the fish is on the point of being hatched. But under a microscope the changes can be watched and recorded from moment to moment, and the rapidity with which they follow each other is astonishing. Compared with the weary dawdling of a setting hen the celerity of deveiopment is marvelous. In a very minutes after the egg has been impregnated one side of the yolk has swol- len perceptibly into a small, elevated disk, which gradually spreads over about one- half of the sphere, and shortly you can cern upon it the rapidly growing outline of the erabryo. Immediately the eyes, which are the first of the serse organs to be developed, ap- ~ at one end and at the other the tail exins to bud. At the end of the second ‘day in the jar this appendage has sprouted to considerable length and the little fellow is able to flirt itself about in the narrow confines of the egg. Some time during the uext twenty-four hours it will break through, and after a struggle has set it free from the incumbrance of the broken shell it will swim about in the jar until the overflow carries it into the receiving tank to join some hundreds of thousands of its fellows. The fresh-hatched shad has little of the beauty and symmetry of the full-grown fish. His countenance, in the first place, is indicative of callowness and vapidity. In the second, his shape {is spoiled by the enormous distension of his abdomen, to which is attached a considerable portion of the original yelk. But in this his beauty has been sacrificed to a very praiseworthy utility. He will subsist upon this yelk for nearly a week without having to hunt for @ mouthful, and will thus be able to de- vote his entire attention to his education. The Line of Tents. Before the contents of his larder have been absorbed the fish will be planted in some tidal stream to make his own living and at last to go down to the sea for the winter. Thus the young shad is given:at least the shadow of a ghost of a chance to live to ma- turity, which under nature’s haphazard Method, it would scarcely seem to have. Un- told thousands perish in the egg to every one that is hatched; whereas, the proportion lost in artificial Propagation is intfinitesi- 1 is this manner of manipulation which has saved the shad fishery of the Potomac from almost complete extinction, and the best possible commentary upon the fish commilssion’s work is the present glut of the market. In 1878 the product of the sheries of this river, whose value had steadily decreased after the war, amounted to about 186,000 shad. Today these fish are so plentiful that it fs hardly profitable to catch them, and many shores have sus- pended operations. But the most pic- turesque phase of the work is to be seen at the collecting station at Bryan's Point, some fifteen miles down the river. Uncle Sam operates a fishing shore there, with all its interesting accessories of old boat house, seine boat, capstans and negro seine haulers, supplemented by the half martial appearance loaned by the line of tents oc- cupied as quarters by the employes. This tation was formerly at Fort Washington, jut when the War Department commenced the construction of the new battery at that int it was transferred, the buildings ere floated down, hauled ashore and set by their present situation. he “berth” is only leased, however, though it {s likely that some day the com- mission will acquire permanent possession @ud establish appropriate buildings and rearing ponds. At present the men enjoy the luxuries of camp life—with’ different degrees of satisfaction. But it is not an entirely disagreeable experience when the weather is good, for though the hours are somewhat Irregular the work is not ar- ducus. The spawn takers are conveyed down the river each day and dropped off at the various fishing shores and gill net fishermen’s camps for the purpose of se- curing the eggs, and as the tide is about thirty minutes later in every twenty-four hours it happens that at times they are up nearly all night. But this is about the extent of their hardships. There is nothing dry about a seine haul, either figuratively to the spectator or lit- erally to the operators, and the big darkey fishermen in rubber hip boots are the equals in every respect of artistic interest of those of Holland or Normandy, so often painted and described. When the tide “A Long, Sweaty Pull.” serves they are summoned from their quar- ters adjoining the boat house, whence you have heard the occasional notes of the fiddle and banjo. They wade out and tum- ble into the long, shallow seine boat, in the stern of which is piled the net, and with the regularity of stroke of man-of- War'’s-men they drive her with nearly a score of oars out into the stream and over an_immense circle. From the stern is paid out, first, some hundred yards of hauling line, then a vast length of seine. -\ curve of nearly a mile brings the boat ashore. again and all hands lay hold of the seine for a long, sweaty pull, aided by the creaking capstan, round which an over-fed horse wends his weary way. The men wade well out into the river and make fast to the lead line the bight of a short rope, which goes over the shoulders, then walk backward to the shere, leaning well against the pull, and the net comes slowly and steadily in—un- less it strikes a “hang,” when the hauling stops and the swearing begins. A “hang” is a sunken log, a stump or other malicious device of the fickle tutelary who manipulates the luck of the fisher- man, and is calculated to tear out from ten to fifty yards of net and to cause a corresponding breach of the proprieties on the part of the seine captain. The idea has been advanced that a seine could be cleared of a hang without the use of pro- fanity, but the statement was made by a minister of the gospel who had never di- rected a seine haul and was based purely on theory. The experiment has never been made. If there be no “hang” the net comes qui- etly ashore and the captives are gradually huddled into the diminishing semicircle. A lighter is brought alongside and the fish are ladled into it by means of a dip- net, and then the work of the spawn-tak- ers begins. The herring are separated from the shad and from these are selected the “ripe” fish, that is to say, those which are ready for spawning. From these the eggs and milt are taken by pressing the abdomen, and put together in pans in preper proportions; water is added and the whole is gently agitated to insure a proper mingling. When all the available fish have been stripped the eggs are taken ashore to the small hatchery and placed in jars for about thirty-six hours’ development before ship- ping to the central station. At the end of this time they have become sufficiently hardened for transportation and are care- fully spread out in two layers upon small, wire-bottomed trays covered with muslin. The trays are then piled one upon an- other, strapped together in stacks of con- venient size for handling and sent by boat to the city, where the eggs are once more placed in jars. The night seine haul is even more inter- esting and picturesque than the opera- tion by daylight. The lights of the pump- house, the hatchery and the long line of lamps along the beach make the scene a very brilliant and pretty one, and even the darkeys seem to feel its romantic influ- ence. As the boat dashes away from the shore the shandy-man of the crew, a big, deep-chested fellow with the voice of a bull, starts up a song. The rest join him, and as its plaintive melody comes floating across the dark water with its rhythmic accompaniment of the rattle of oars, now dying away, now rising again on the breeze, you have emotions which you would like to be able to express. There is a rare harmony there—the night, the placid water, the gentle lapping of the waves, and the distant chorus—which makes you yearn for an immortal power of pen or brush to make it permanent, that you might sare its charm with those who are not present to see and hear. You look about for some one to whom you may im- part a little of your superfluous sentiment, which, when unexpressed, grows burden- some. There is the seine captain, sitting in the door of his quarters, but he is exam- ining a recent leak in his rubber boots, so he is not in a receptive frame of mind. Near by ts an old darkey, a superannuated seine hauler, whose long silence and rapt expression persuade you that he is as much carried away by the night's poetry as you are, and if you can draw him into giving words to his feelings you may uncover sen- timents of which you had not thought. “Good evening, uncle; it is a beautiful night,” you say, as a starter. “Good evenin’, sah, "Deed, it sut’ny ts, sah!” he returns with enthusiasm. “It’s jes’ dat kind of a night, sah, as is boun’ to fotch de ole man out. W’'en it comes a night lak dis "yah an’ dey’s a-haulin’ seine, I says to my ole woman, ‘Lucindy, I’se a- gwine down to de feeshin’ sho’." An’ she says, says she, ‘Mose, you sholy is a fool! Gwine totin’ yo’ rheumatics down t’roo de wet grass an’ trompin’ roun’ lak you was a fo’-yeah-ole steah. You sut’ny kin be a idjit.’ But gcod lan’. W’en de stahs is a-twinklin’, an’ de lights on de sho’ is a- glimmerin’, an a little breeze is a-blowin’ lak dis ‘yah, an’ de niggahs is a-haulin’ seine an’ a-singin’, why den de ole man knows he’s jes’ boun’ to git a mess 0’ cat- tles. Yah, yah! "Deed he Is! "Deed he is, boss!” Mr. Squinte: you're going? Mr. Joker— you're looking?’ “Why don’t you look where vhy don't you go where —Life. FIELDS AND WOODS|4 WomaN OF tHE FUTURE The Abundance, Beauty and Variety of Wild Flowers. IN THE MARKETS AND ON THE STREETS Where, They Come From and How They Are Obtained. GROWING POPULARITY — ROM THE TIME when the memory of man runneth not, the people of Washington have boasted of their markets, wherein could be found the thousand and one good things which in the mind of so many make life worth liv- ing: But while the Washington markets have a full supply of ‘all the substantials and delicacies which tempt the sense of taste, not until recent years have the peo- ple had their sense of sight delighted by the sweet-smelling masses of flowers now to be daily seen in the Washington markets. Today, stand after stand, covered with growing plants and flowers, and with cut flowers as well, gladdens the eyes of every- one visiting the markets. The floral dis- plays in the Washington markets are, in- deed, wonderful, and are an endless source of pleasure to all visiting them, particu- larly so to those strangers who rightly con- sider our markets points of real and at- tractive interest. There are other floral displays, however, in which appear the sweet and innocent dwellers of the fields and woods. But these displays are made not within the walls of the markets, but on the sidewalks and roadways about them. They are brought to the city by the country folks and by the colored men, women and children, whose natural picturesqueness is one of the feat- ures even today of the Washington mar- kets. Keeping pace with the production and sale of the cultivated flowers, the abundance and demand for the wild flowers have increased. Abundance of Flowers. Where, a few years ago, two or three va- rieties of these inhabitants of the fields and woods were offered for sale, today are seen @ score or more. The country about the city is remarkable not only for the numer- ous varieties of wild flowers, but as well for their delicacy and beauty. One has to go but a little way outside of the city to gather a beautiful bunch of these flowers. But most of those seen in the markets come from beyond the limits of the Dis- trict. The hills and valleys about Arling- ton furnish many, as do the river banks and fields above the Aqueduct and Chain bridges. The neighboring counties of Maryland are no less generous, and while flowers are plentiful throughout the fields and woods of the District, the supply from the outside is by far the largest. The first wild flower to appear in the markets is the delicately perfumed arbutus, which comes in March. Quickly following dt comes the wood or field violet, the per- fumeless cousin of the English violet. Then come the yellow buttercups; the morning stars, white, star-shaped, long-stemmed flowers; innocence, tiny blue flowers, upon slender stems; Quaker bonnets, small, dark blue clustered flowers; wood anemone, or wind flower; azalea, or swamp _ honey- suckle or pink; may apple; pansy violets, or Johnny jump-ups; columbine; Dutch- man’s breeches; Jack in the pulpit, and then the daisies, or, as they are known to some people, white weeds, and with then come the cone flowers, or yellow daisies. And about the time the humble little daisies are in the markets and on the streets the swamp magnolia,with its sweet, pervading perfume, makes its welcome bow. Recently has been found on sale what is called by the country people who sell it California or Russian clover. It has a rather attractive appearance and in the fields a number of them look not un- like a patch of ripe strawberries. Then, too, are sold in the markets crabapple blos- soms, wild cherry blossoms, dogwood, and, not infrequently, branches of peach and apple blossoms. Effect on the Market. But not only are wild flowers sold in the markets, but also in great quantities on the streets. Of course, their sale has to some slight extent affected the demand for cultivated flowers, but not nearly so much, stated a well-known florist to a Star re- porter, as might be expected. The class of people, he explained, purchasing the wild varieties are altogether different from those purchasing cultivated stock, the difference being mainly a matter of mere taste. Then, too, said another florist, the wild flowers flourish when nearly every one is growing flowers and at a season of the year when cultivated cut flowers are in light demand by_purchasers. Of course, some varieties of wild flowers have been cultivated, the daisy being the most prominent one, perhaps, but such cultivation is not attempted to any great extent. Most often a wild variety is culti- vated because of some reigning fad, al- though in some cases the natural attract- iveness of the flower secures for it such an honor. The fad today, however, is the wild flower pure and simple, and not to have a bunch of them on the street or at home is to confess your ignorance of quite the proper thing, you know _ CRIPPLES WERE HEALED. An Amusing Incident of Semi-Savage Rule in the Hawalian Islands. From the Pacific Commercial Advertiser. Judge Austin of Hilo relates some in- teresting experiences of his own while sec- retary to Princess Ruth, in 1854. At that time she was the governess of Hawaii. He had been appointed secretary, but with orders from Kamehameha III that Keelikolani should never interfere with his work. In that year there was a large gathering of the natives at Kailua, com- manded to assemble by her in order to explain to the people the tax laws and to erforce the payment of taxes. A large larai was provided, in which the meeting took place, and she proposed to address them. It was the unwritten law that the very old and infirm, all cripples and incurables, should be exempt from taxation. The na- tives were unwilling to pay taxes, so they prepared for the meeting. : Many who were young men and in the best physical condition came in, appear- ing to be doubled up with disease. Many used staffs and walked with trembling steps. Some walked slowly, coughing at every step. Some held up a leg and ap- peared to be cripples. One enterprising native appeared on a Stretcher, carried by four of his companions. When the assem- bly opened it appeared like a hospital with- out a well person in it, and it numbered several hundred. The princess made a brief address, and was followed by her secretary, Judge Austin, who told them that all present would have to pay taxes, as there was nothing the matter with them. At once there was a commotion. The men who were doubled up straightened themselves out. The coughing stopped. The men with “game” legs moved about quickly. The man who came in on a stretcher got up and made-a speech to the crowd, showing that he had a very poor opinion of the government. ‘he staffs were flung aside. In a few moments a fine stalwart body of men were seen tak- ing the mountain road and moving off with perfect ease, and the lanai was littered with the debris of the materials they had used in making themselves apparent crip- ples and infirm. 400 Perfectly Satisfied. From the New York Weekly. Crack Boat Builder—‘Ah! How-de-do, Mr. Richman? How did that rowboat I made you last summer suit?” Mr. Richman—“Perfectly!”" “Ah! I’m glad to hear it. I always like to give satisfaction. Suited portectly: eh?” “Yes. I left it in front of my boat house all summer, and every scalawag who tried to steal it got upset or drowned.” W. J. Lampton in Life. ,, How silvery soft the:dnoon shone down upon the world that might in June. How sweetly the fragrance~f the roses came and went upon the breathing air; and the great errth thfobbed toothe gentle pulses of two tende- hearts thatjbeat as one. I had known Herbert)|Martin but two weeks, yet in that brief space my whole future was bound up in his life, and I wait- ed only for that sweet:smile of encourage- ment which should be the signal for me to lay all the burden of my wishes, my hopes and my fears at his feet. And.cn this night in June I had asked him to walk with me to the old tree in the lawn, where we had spent so many happy hours since first I had met him and known the sunshine of his presence. “Dear Herbert,” I said, after we had communed for a few moments beneath the giant arms of the great oak, “I have some- thing to say to you.” “I am sure, Miss Linger,” he said, with the coy grace of an old-fashioned girl, “that whatever you may have to say it will be a pleasure for me to hear.” “But I am not so sure, Herbert,” I re- sponded with that deep doubt which must come to every sincere soul at such a mo- ment as this. “How could you say anything to me, Miss Linger, that would not please me?” he ask- ed, shyly. The moon came peering through the leaves above us, and as a silver line of light fell across ‘his fair young face I saw the silver turn to pink upon his white fore- head. “You know,” I said, with my heart beat- ing faster each moment, “that a woman may say some things to a man that have the power to change his whole life.”’ “Yes,” he almost whispered, “I think I have read of such things in novels.” “In love stories?” I asked, laughing softly. am sure they were,” he smiled. “And if I shofld say them to you, Her- bert’”—I stopped and tried to catch the light in his great brown eyes. “I don’t know, Miss Linger,” he whisper- ed, “what it would be like.” “Don’t call me ‘Miss Linger,’ ”” claimed, impetuously. Eliza. “You won't be angry with me if I do he blushed. “Angry with you, Herbert?” I said. “How could I be angry with you? You who were created for the birds to sing to; the flowers to blossom for; the sunshine to fe envicne of; ee stars to pale their in- eifectua! res before? An; with you, darling? How could I be?” ee : “Oh, Eliza,” he said, “you mustn’t say those things to me. I am too young to listen to such words from you or from any woman. Papa has always told me that women were ever waiting and willing to flatter me, and that I must not listen.” ‘But do you not love to hear such aoa I answered, taking his hand in ie. “They are the sweetest I ever heard,” sighed, softly. Se “And if I told you that I loved you, Her- bert: that on your love my whole life de- bended; that without it the world would be a desert to me; that if your dear hand were not In mine to be my gentle stay and guide, I would wander away and be lost to the career which is so grauidly opening before me—if I should say that to you, Herbert, what would you think?” ‘ waited anxiously for his answ - cause on that depended so much. cae rithed do res i Eliza?” he asked h a coy le smile. “Why ee ay it direct to me?” ye oon ust think of Herbert saying that! My Herbert, whom I had clethed in ‘Tne full garniture of guilelessness, and had wor- shiped as the one altogether artless. You enchanter,” TY exclaimed, catching both his hands in mine, and kissing him on one blazing cheek in spite of his strug- gles. “Oh, you more than wise charmer of womankind. Do you thus doubt me?” He laughed with a ‘cute’chirp, as of a pe and smoothed out his rumpled neck- ie. ‘ “And why shouldn’t:I, when you preface a declaration with that ‘hateful ‘if’?” he asked as he moved over to the farther end of the rustic seat. “But you know that love ycu, Herbert,” I insisted. “How could I help .oving you?” “It is easy to love when ove is in the moonlight of a night in June,” he said tenderly as he gazed upward at the stars. “It is easy to love you,’ Herbert, under any circumstances. To love is nothing; not to love you is the task.” “How nicely you talk. Papa was right when he told me how the women could flatter when they tried.” “Don’t speak so, dear one,” I urged,draw- ing him to me once more. “Women are deceivers ever,” he laughed, quoting the revised version of the old poet, and he looked up into my eyes with that look in his, which I knew could come only from a heart that beat true to mine, what- ever he might say to put me off. “Now look me square in the face you dear, bewitching little wizard,” I said, tak- ing his face in my two hands and holding him there, “and listen to what I tell you: I love you; I love you; I love you.” “And?” he added with a great overgrown interrogation point after It. “And I shall love you forever.” ‘And?” he questioned again. ‘And I want you to love me the same.” “And?” again the interrogation, no less smaller grown by so much use. “And I love you more every minute I look at you.” “And?” ever the “and,” with that ques- tioning inflection which coaxes an answer. “And I want you to be my own dear lit- tle husband, forever and ever, Herbert.” “Dear Eliza,” he said in a tone of relief so sweetly. I thought it was the stars singing together as in the old time, and he laid his head upon my shoulder and I felt the clinging grasp of a hand that would be in my hand until death should come and take it away. “Darling,” I murmured and our lips met. Even so, and as the nights of later Junes come to us again, and the moon lets down its silver chords to bind us together to that one night in June when first we started upon the path our feet have trod so happily since, I can only be thankful that I have won Herbert’s love, and that as he clung to me then, he clings to me still, and my loving care and protection have been to him all that his dear -heart could have wished. ‘As for myself, there are no heights to which I may attain that with me Herbert shall not go as a husband whose great love makes him the equal of his wife in all the honors the world may confer upon her. A perfect husband, nobly planned, To love, to comfort and command. soe. Written for The Evening Star. Washington. “The city of magnificent distances ‘Ay, #0 it {s, though erst in scorn so named; Yet other titles well may be by't clatmed— The city of magnificent forest trees, And city of flowers, for it is both of these, But chief, the last—of Flora’s fairest famed From Outre-Mer, and those wise Art has tamed, ‘The free-born wildlings of our woods and leas. ‘They smile along its green-parked avenues; Its statued squares and, circles, quaintly ll In groups that every moon new blooms disclose; ‘They charm it with sweet odors and bright hues, The city of flowers, from the first daffodil Till fall the last chrysanthennim and rose. A Birthday: Rondeau, (May'6.) of I wish you Joy on this your natal Way, When flowers deck earth; green'Jeaves garb every tree, - And love's sweet impulse|all hearts haste to obey; ‘When air grows mild, the heavens soft hues display, ‘And the glad streams dagce on with melody. Methinks for you the birds more blithesomely Bing, while the West breathes blessing, and with me Joins merry May, rejoicing, when I say, d wish you Joy. Not only now, but in the fears to be, May all the best life bofists attend your way— Love, and esteem, and great felicity; ‘Yea, whether, as now, a maiden fair and free, Or, some time, blushing in a bride's array, I wish you joy. —W. L. SHOEMAKER. ——_--— Their Idea of Life. From the Cincinnati Tribune. “The great trovble with young men who want to see life,” remarked the corn-fed philosopher, “is that they imagine that tee none of it worth seeing by day- ig! a The Silver Lining. From Life. Chicagoan—“What is the most ‘pleasing discovery ‘you've made since your stay here?” New Yorker—“The fact that there are two hundred trains leaving daily.” “serge makes the best OUTING COSTUMES. Some ef the Stylish Designs for Golf, Hunting, Yachting, &c. A woman who lays any claim at all to being in the swell set now prepares for the summer sporting season, exactly as a man does She has to have her hunting boots and climbing shoes, her guns and‘ golf sticks, tennis rackets and togs, just as men have them, though, as a matter of cours, the racket has a bow of ribbon to match the predominant color in her frock, and her gun and fishing rod have a stream- er or two somewhere about them. A wo- man is a woman, wherever you find her, and she wears her trousers and high boots with a greater difference than does a man who dons her dress on occasion. She’s bound to catch them up when she crosses a puddle of water on her heels, and she never will learn that she must not sit on her coat tails. But she goes on acquiring a Iking for both just the same. Whether one likes it or not, one has got to “lump it,” as the children say, and lock to see women wearing abbreviated skirts and none at all, pretty much every place one goes this summer, because wo- men are going in for “sporting” more than ever. Golf will be one of the fads till it wears out A very good authority says that golf is especially well adapted for women, in fact, about the most rational outdoor game that women can play. A woman who pla golf has got to be dressed for it. She can’t go out in a trim long-tailed gown and com- pete with her less conventional sister in long distance tramping over the “‘links.”” Her shoes should be easy, her skirts above her ankles and loose and flowing, her cor- sets must give her room to expand, and a blouse is the only comfortable thing for a waist. White duck and whipcord and white pique make bewitching golf. gowns, with blouses of soft bright silk. One young debutante will play golf this summer in a white wool crepon skirt that is banded with three rows of red satin, and a blouse of the same shade of surah. It's stunning and no mis- take. Being one of the “snow maidens” who never gets flush- ed when exercising, she can stand those _ colors, not — many could. A soft, firm skirt, and under it should be worn Turk- ish trousers of silk yy ~ almost the same color. The silk affords less resistance than any other material for an underskirt for a woman who wishes to do much walking. For hunting, fishing and mountain climb- ing a very different dress is necessary. The acecptable one comes just a little be- low the knees, where it meets long but- toned leather leggings, which are drawn over boots laced high on the leg. In some cases the boots lace nearly to the knees, and then the leggings are dispensed with. The skirt ought to be of some heavy, firm woolen goods and have very little fullness ig, as a mat- ter of course. Jersey web trousers to wear under it, and a coat and waistcoat com- plete the costume, in which a woman can get about just as well as a man. A soft hat of the Alpine variety should be worn, and all attempts at coquettish head dress laid aside. One or two misguided women are planning white serge hunting dresses! It would take at least two a day to keep them presentable. The woman who does not want to be counted a nuisance on an “expedition” will always attire herself sim- ply and pack as dittle luggage as possible. The place to display pretty and effective toilets is aboard a yacht. The yachting dress is susceptible of exquisitely dainty ar- rangement, and the womar. so fortunate as to get invited to take a trip aboard one of the elegant yachts so common about the summer watering places’ on the coast can please _ herself and Dame Fashion too by selecting al- most any elegant ma- terial she likes, so she gives it a nautical touch in make. Of course, serges and mohairs, crepons and cravenette are the most serviceable, and white with braidings of blue or red the most popular. It isn’t ad- visable to put any more frills on them than on the hunting dress, though Vandyke em- broidery and heavy lace is sometimes em- ployed about the shoulders as in the illus- tration. Unless you want a neck like tan- ned leather, don’t bare it in sailor fashion to the sea wind’s kisses. They are unkind to a dainty skin. The regular sailor waist is not so popular now as the chic little jacket, but it may give way to the plain back and blouse front before the season is over, as everything else bids fair to do. — CAT AND DOG FRIENDS. A Slight Misunderstanding Which Was Satisfactorily Explained. Tommy Kirby isa cat. His habitat is on Capitol Hill Among his many friends and admirers Tommy Kirby numbers a large Newfoundland dog, called Jack, who lives at the same house with Tommy Kirby. ‘The two are often seen in each other’s company, and on hot afternoons take their siestas on the same back porch in the most amiable, friendly fashion. They have a most thorough understanding, and on meeting after a brief separation will express their mutual satisfaction in short cries and ejaculations in their own lan- guage, which they seem perfectly to under- stand. The other afternoon Newfoundland Jack lay wrapped in slumber iy the yard. Tommy Kirby came out and, after look- ing up and down the causeway, concluded to go over and visit a friend named Billy, who was himself a cat of worth, and be- longed to Tommy ‘Kirby's set. He was picking his way across the street with that dignity and composure that some cats assume, when he encountered a strange dog. The dog was disposed to make it a case of assault and battery. Now, Tommy Kirby is a cat of great valor, ond the neighborhood has night after night rung with his war whoops. Instead of flying from: his assailant he came to a full stop; made green his eyes; enlarged his tail until it looked as if it was meant to clean lamp chimneys, and gave his back an arch of much hauteur. Then he spat with exceeding emphasis, and as one who announced himself ready for the worst. When Tommy Kirby had thus fixed himself, what they would in St. Louis call his tout ensemble very much daunted the strange dog. Instead of rushing wildly in and rending Tommy Kirby as he had at first proposed, he gave way to clamorous barkings. This uproar aroused Newfoundland J. who came tearing to the scene. Never having beheld his friend Tommy Kirby in this heroic guise Newfoundland Jack utterly failed to recognize him. Being a dog of vigorous methods he unhesitatingly as- sailed” Tommy Kirby out of hand. Such base behavior on the part of his friend and ally was too much for the composure of Tommy Kirby. He straightened the arch out of his spinal column, lowered his tail and fied with a screech of pained surprise. Then it was that Newfoundland Jack recognized him. He looked after Tommy Kirby, while grief and remorse shone in is eyes. He was full of apology to the brim. This lasted for a moment, and then the meditations of Newfoundland Jack took a new turn. He- atruptly fell upon the strange dog, whose caitiff uproar had gotten him into this mess, and gave him such a trouncing as few dogs get, and which sent the strange dog nowling from the scene at a faster pace even than that of Tommy Kirby. The next day Newfound- land Jack and Tommy Kirby were seen sedately walking the yard together; so they must have made mutual explanations. —— Where They Hung It. From the Indianapolis Journal. “You remember Daubyn’s new picture that he went about praising to the skies?” “Yes.” that was where the committee Drew the Right Inference. From the Chicago Record. The Girl—“Lottie told me the other day that she had no idea of such a thing as getting engaged.” The Other Girls (after a pause)—“I wonder what his name is?” s@lARiC OPERA HOUSE. NEW.OPERA HOUSE The Building Which Will Occupy the Old Blaine House Site. Steel Construction Will Be Used—A Description of the Interior and the Roof Garden. The Lafayette Square .Opera House, which is being erected upon the site of the old Blaine residence on Madison place, just above Pennsylvania avenue, will be com- pleted and ready for occupancy next Sep- tember. Mr. John W. Albaugh, the well- known and popular theatrical manager, will assume the management of the new theater upon completion, and promises to make it strictly a first-class house of amuse- ment. The new building will have a frontage of nearly seventy feet, with a depth of 146 feet, with public alleys on three sides, thus affording ample exits. The ground contains about 10,000 square feet. Madison place is ninety feet wide, including a thirty-five- foot pavement and parking. The building will be six stories in height, with a roof garden. The work will be pushed as rapid- ly as possible, in order to open on Monday, September 23 next, as has been arranged. The work of excavation has been com- pleted, and the steel frame construction is under headway. This enode of construction has been adopted throughout the building, from the basement to the highest point in the roof garden, which will tend, it is claimed, to make it one ef the few abso- lutely fire-proof theaters in the country. The foundations are composed of a frame- work of columns of steel, built on concrete seven feet thick. The buff brick which will fill in the skeleton frame of the building will serve merely as a protection from the weather. The style of the exterior will be of the classic Grecian order. It will be built of gray polished granite to the portico, above the first story, and buff brick ornamented with buff terra cotta will constitute the re- mainder of the front elevation. The col- umns of the,colonnade in front of the first story will be of polished granite. The drawing from which the cut accompanying this article was made was prepared by Messrs. Wood & Lovell of Chicago, the architects of the building. Located in the basement of the building will be Turkish baths, the -floor and walls being laid in tiling and white marble; and in addition a barber shop and toilet rooms. The struc- ture will be lighted throughout by elec- tricity and heated by steam, the dynamog and engines to be located under the rear alley and separated frcm the main build- ing by a fire-proof wall. The main entrance to the theater will be thirty-six feet wide and only a couple ot steps up from the sidewalk, and opening into a lobby which will be finished in ma- hogany and floored in mosaics, from which two broad marble staircases will lead to the upper floors. The officer of the theater will be in the northwest corner of the build- ing. In the southwest corner will be the elevators. The house will have a seating capacity of 1,800. In the auditorium the foyer will not be railed off, but marked by statues and ornamental vases. The main floor, which will be laid in tiling, will rise in five tiers, and a feature will be its con- struction on the cantilever plan, so that there will be only two supporting columns on the main floor and three in the balco- nies. None of these will interfere with a view of the stage from any seat in the house, as they are set in the rear of the last row. The chairs will be of iron. with leaher seats and backs of mahogany, and will be fastened to a wooden strip embedded in the floor for that purpose. There will be no center aisle, means of egress being fur- nished by two side aisles sloping directly to the stage. Above the auditorium will bea mezzan- ine floor, divided into thirty stalls, seating from four to eight persons each. There will be sixteen proscenium boxes, eight on either side, adjoining a reception room and promenade. The ornamentation of the fronts of the balconies will be composed of artistic wrought steel, as will also be the doors throughout the building. A new fea- ture will be the ceiling, which will slope down to the top of the proscenium arch, thus forming an immense sounding board. The ceilings of the proscenium boxes will also rise in a series of curved sound boards, which will greatly increase the acoustic Properties of the house. The latest im- proved system_of ventilation will be used. The stage, like the other parts of the building, is also to be constructed of fire- proof material, and equippad with the latest fire-proof scenery. A rigging loft, sixty- five feet above the stage floor, will be erected, from which all the scenery and drops will be operated. Beneath this loft will be a narrow gallery, on either side of which will be the steel ropes and pulleys used in securing the scenery work from the stage floor. A handsomely painted as- bestos curtain will be raised and lowered by an electrical arrangement connected with the rack of the musical director. A roof garden, accommodating 1,500 peo- ple, will be connected with other portions of the house by two commodious elevators. The new theater will open on the date Stated with the Lillian Russell Comic Op- era Company, in a new opera by De Koven ard Smith. J. M. Wood is personally su- perintending the construction of the build- ing and PauleD. Connor is the contractor. ‘THE LAMP SHADE. A Grent Industry Born of the Demand for These Trifies. From the New York Times. ‘The evolution of the lamp shade has been of mushroom growth. We all remember the little green pasteboard affair, with its pictures of family groups and landscapes of impossible nature, which decorated the family drop-light barely ten years ago. Its present representative has opened a very broad avenue of trade, and a corresponding one in the exercise of talent and artistic ingenuity. Little thought the woman, whose subtle instincts of art and beauty led her to first fold a bit of colored tissue paper around her porcelain lamp shade to screen the eyes, what she was bringing into the world. Little she dreamed of the beauty, art and delicacy of color she was ushering in on the one hand, and the important tn- dustry, with all the ramifications of such industry, cn the other. That feminine touch for taste and comfort has changed frem a tiny bud to a full-grown flower of great beauty. -Alas, that the dark roots and vigorous branches which give it exist- ence should be repeating the same old story of avarice and profit. . It is too true that the sweating system pervades the manufacture of these airy trifles, as it does that of practical shirts, ccats and trousers. Poor pay, close meas- ures, long hours, pale faces, ceaseless labor for a starved existence—inese belong to the g: ssamer shades as to the prosaic clothing. The production of lamp shades is an enormous business. The majority seen in the shop windows are made by the whole- sale in great work rooms in the large cities. One may reflect, while looking at them, that hundreds of gentle girls and older wo- men are seated all day long, plying the reedle as fast as they may, for pay depends upon the number of shades turned out in a day. The work is generally done by the piece, so the incentive to labor rapidly is provided. A good trimmer can make two plano lamp shades in a dey, for which she may receive $1 or $2 apiece, according to the amount of labor and elegance of the affair. Prices for cheaper and smaller shades range from ten cents up. Very small can- dle shades are quickly worked off, and a good hand can cover four or six a day. Considering the price of these little and big elegancies to the purchaser, the cost of labor is a -bagatelle, and the reflection is obvious that “some cne” makes money in the business. Notwithstanding this dispro- portion between the price paid by the con- sumer and the cost of production, so keen is the desire for profit that at least*one big manufacturing house, it is said, sends frames and materials to Mexico, where they are made up for a few cents. Material is cut and made into packexes ready for_the individual worker by fore- women. Shirring, gathering and plaiting are largely done by machine in piece. Extra fine materiel is intrusted only to expert workers, and they do all the detail by hand. Like all wrades, there are the gocd, bad and indifferent workers, and prices are piid accordingly, but even’ with fair workers it is found hard to make a few dollars ov2r living ex: ————+e+____ Hit It at Once. From the New York Commercial Advertiser. “Can I see you apart for a moment “You mean alone, don’t you?” ‘Yes; a loan—that’s it exactly. I want to a dolla ——se0—_____ The Old Man’s Idea. From the Indianapolis Journal. “Gosh!” said Mr. Jason, stopping on the corner and turning clear around to get an- other look at the young woman passing by, “kissing a girl with them sleeves on must be nigh the same as tunrelin’ into a ging- ham sunbonnet, like a fellow had to do when I was a boy.” <== DON'T TALK TO THE BABY. Mothers Often Do Serious Harm by Much Talking and Fondling. From the Philadelphia Times. “What, not talk to my baby!” exclaimed the young mother, who sat holding her three-months-old baby and chattering to it with the fond foolishness of which young mothers are capable. “No, my dear; don’t talk to him so much, not nearly so much,” replied the older wo- man. ‘Dear as he is, you must not forget how delicate in every way s tiny baby is.” The young mother was sobered, but not convinced. ‘How can it possibly hurt him?” she asked. ‘‘He cannot understand me, and I do so love to see him smile and answer my talk with his happy look.” “Which proves that he does understand, and in his way replies to your loving talk; and it is that which is the strain. You take beautiful care to feed the baby with the greatest exactness and to keep him clothed daintily and comfortably, ‘and that is right. His brains, however, are just as weak and undeveloped as is his body. What his small mind needs most Is rest, and when you talk to him the tax on his men- tality is beyond its strength. It is like hur- rying the unfolding of a rose by pulling the leaves of the bud apart. “Of course, all babies are not so sensitive, but I know of a little six-months baby, a little girl, who has been very ill of serious brain trouble, whoily brought on by the continued attentions of a large and admir- ing circle of friends proud of an unusually bright baby. Another baby girl of eighteen menths began to droop, apparently for no reason; nothing helped her, though ‘much was tried. The puzzled physician instituted careful inquiry, and found that she had been coaxed to dance a little each day, be- cause ‘it was so cute to see her.’ An im- mediate stopping of the practice, with rest and quiet, restored her to health again. A young babe cannot be kept too much like a little animal; let him sleep and eat, and eat to sleep again, keeping him in cool, well-ventilated rooms and not too much in ae light, either of the sun or artificial ight. “Be advised early, and let your baby alone. Let him grow naturally, and not by any forcing process. ne more don’t. Don’t send him to ride on noisy streets, under the elevated roads, or along the trol- ley or cable lines. Those are not nerve- soothing places for an outing to an adult, much less to a tender, delicate baby.” ——___+e+-—__—__ SWALLOWED HIS BATON. A French Drum Major Who Introduce ed a New Act. From the New York World. A decidedly unique variation of a drum major’s usual performance when on re- view occurs in one of the French regi- ments of the Mne—or, rather, did occur— for the colonel of that regiment has now put down his foot and issued a positive fiat that his suberdinate shall henceforward confine himself to orthodox tricks. The musical leader in question had at one period of his life been a mountebank, and evidently a good one, for, after practicing in secret a number of times, he astonished the regiment, drawn up in review one day, by suddenly throwing his stick high in air, catching it in his mouth upon its descent, and swallowing fully half of it. Having accomplished this gastronomic diversion, he stood for a moment while the spec- tators gazed in awed amazement, and then disgorged the half of the baton which he had swailowed and continued his march down the line. He repeated this trick a good many times and the regiment was very proud of him, but it brought It such an unenviable repu- tation that the colonel finally had to stop him. Now his performance is thoroughly conventional. Evolution from a P. D. Q. locomotive to the president of AN be pe