Evening Star Newspaper, August 17, 1895, Page 18

18 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 17, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. SPORT AND HEALTH How Young Ladies Can Have Both in the Open Air. ARCHERY ON THE LAWN Instructions for Properly Handling the Bow. VARIOUS KINDS OF TARGETS Written for The Eveninz Star. HE OCCUPATIONS of the daughter of fashion in the pres- ent day are as va- ried as the garments she wears. She no longer lacks variety. The woman who was the heroine of former days has dis- appeared as com- pletely as though she had never exist-~ ed, and the amiable, insipid little person remembered as a combination of inno~ cence and ringlets has given place to bril- liant-eyed, sunburnt, rosy-cheeked girls, who waik as though they possess the ground they tread upon, and who Insist that fresh air is a surer cure for a head- ache than bottles of cologne and darkened rooms. One of these refreshing specimens of femininity burst { upon me the other day “Oh, come on and join us. We have a new game and are golng to practice,” was the cordial invitation hurled at me by a tall, willowy girl, gowned in the most fetching costume, composed of a full black skirt, cut on regulation outing principles, a blouse of soft gray silk, with a broad black velvet girdle, into which was tuck- ed a bunch of ox-eyed daisies, and a jaunty Tam-o'-Shanter set atop the wind-blown hair to put a finishing touch to the bright picture. “Join what?” I asked, gladly throwing aside my work to gaze upon my pretty friend. “No gloves, no parasol. and no time to explain, I suppose. Now, what is the game?” as I donned my hat to accompany er. “We girls have formed a recreation club, and have taken up archery first, and——" “Do you call that new?” I interrupted. “Seems to me I have heard tn remote ages of Ishmael and aau_as having distin- guished themselves {n that profession.” “You don't say,” returned my companion, turning her face seriously toward me. “Well, archery as it is played now can't be the same ching as fn those days, for shooting then was taught as a means of destruction, while we are going to practice it as a means of benefiting health and in- cidentally as an enjoyable suinmer sport.”* Armed for Sport. “Now for the game!” cried another of the party, as we joined a group on the steps Jeading to a spacious lawn. Each young woman had come supplied with im- plements for the sport—bows, arrows, gloves, quiver, belt, and the leader had furnished the target and score cards, the latter being suspended from the belt that girdied the waist of each pretty archer. The bows varied from twenty-five to forty pourds in strength. “I shall not be satisfied until every one of you can draw a forty-pound bow,” nounced the leader, a brown-eyed beauty in a white serge gown with a short skirt. Her hat had fallen off, and, shaking a head of glossy brown hair that glistened in the sunshine, she continued: “Men can draw a seventy-five-pound bow, and we have a right, you know, to draw the same —if_we can.” “What's that rag you've got on your hand?" I inquired, irrelevantly. “A rag, indeed! If I had not that ‘rag’ I could not shoot at all. It’s a shooting glove, though really it’s only half of one, having but three cases for the fingers one draws the string with. Here’s another of our ‘rags’ on my left arm. That's the racer. It's seven inches long, and fits the inside of the arm perfectly. “Now (taking pity on my ignorance) let me show you how you are to stand. Do it’after me, and prac- tice the attitudes before you begin to shoot. : Siren cour bow ai rie. tee “To begin with, string your bow. Just take the handle in your left hand, then place the bottom end on the ground, rest- ing it against the inside of your left foot; keep the back of the bow turned toward you and advance your right foot about ten inches. Next put the heel of your right hané on the bow, just below the eye of the string, and with the palm of the same hand push the upper limb from you and pull the handle toward you with the left hand, and you have the string in posi- tion. That's all about the stringing. - Ch fooicl df The. Tansrel* “When you have strung the bow you take your place in front of the target, and with your right hand select an arrow from the quiver at ;our belt. Holding the bow-horl- zontally with your left hand, you put an arrow on it, passing the point under the string and over the bow until the point rojects six inches beyond. Then you hold it there with the forefinger of your left hand and turn it with your right hand till the cock feather comes uppermost. Then fix the arrow upon the nocking point of the string—that part which is exactly op- Posite the section of the upper limb join- ing the plush handle. You have to find this point for yourself—here it is on mine. I Wound a thread of red silk around, so as to find it again easily when I want to fix an arrow in a hurry. “The next thing is to take your position for shooting. Never face the target; al- Ways turn the left side of the body to It. Put your feet flat on the ground, six inches apart, with the tos of the left foot turned toward the mark. Stand erect—as I tilted forward to see if my new tan shoes were in proper position—and keep your shoul- ders thrown back, with your head just a Uttle bent forward. Try it. That js all right, but put your shoulders back still more and keep your mouth shut. It’s not healthy to breathe through your mouth when you take exercise in the open air. “Now take the bow by the handle with your left hand, and put the three first fingers of your right under the string and hook them on it with the arrow between the first and second fingers. Now ralse your left hand to a level of the shoulder and turn the bow perpendicularly. - “Let the arrow rest on the knuckle of the first finger of your left hand and against the bow, holding the latter firmly and fix- ing your eyes steadily on the center of the target. Draw the cord till the thumb of your right hand touches the top of your right ear. That's it. Now loose it, quick! There, you missed the mark because you kept the string drawn too long. You must be very quick in loosing it. Now, rest awhile.” As exhausted I sank gratefully into the folds of an insecure camp chair my pretty instructress continued: “We do not always shoot at targets. When we get on and become experts we shall have butt shooting. “Butts are mounds of earth, sodded over with grass. They are generally nine feet by six at the base and five by two at the top. Against these are small circles of pasteboard, from three inches to one foot in diameter. Shots in the butt, though missing the paper, are not scored, and of the hits the one nearest the peg to which the paper {fs fastened ranks highest.” “Then we have what is called ‘roving.’ That is great fun. Any point, as a tree, a bank of earth or a stile, is good for a mark. We all shoot at the same time, the winner of the first mark choosing the next, and so on. In flight shooting the furthest shot wins, and proficiency depends almost as much on the quality of the bow and ar- rows as up6n the skill ofthe archer. Last- ly, we have clout shooting. A clout is a small white target, thrust into a cleft stick, which is placed in the ground cblique. The distance generally is from 200 to 250 yards. The Bow. “In selecting a bow one should see that there is plenty of wood at the handle, be- cause the heat of the hand weakens it and loosens the grain; those with the inside of snakewood and a back of hickory are the best. When once you have a good bow, take care of it. A thick green baize cover is good to keep it from getting wet or scratched, and it should always be rubbed down with a soft woolen cloth after being used. Never expose it to rain, mist or fog or hang it against @ brick wall, as the least dampness will bring freats in it. “The arrows should be kept in a tin or wooden box, and carefully preserved from wet and dust.” The Target. The target these athletic damsels used was made of plaited straw, covered by can- yas and having a target face of muslin on the outside. This face was painted with a gold center, which represented the bull's- eye, and four rings, colored, respectively, red, white, black and white. The gold counts nine, the red seven, the inner white five, the black three and the outer white one. Generally the target measures four fect in diameter, when the distance for shooting is from sixty to eighty yards. The score books are divided into columns of gold, red, white and black, each score being marked with a pinhole. “The five points In archery,” prompted the leader, “are standing, nocking, draw- ing, holding and loosing. The arm must be held firm as a rock at the moment of loos- ing, for unless the bow is held as in a vise the arrow swerves from its course. Hold- ing, drawing and loosing form one con- tinuous action.” “Position!” sung out the leader, and on the instant twelve perfect specimens of girlhood sprang to their places for the last shot. Ore! Two! Three! Every arrow flew, but only one struck the bull's-eye, and that proudly bore the leader's name. A howl of disappointment greeted the dis- covery, but it was a merry breaking up, and eack. eye was brighter, each step light- er and life seemed fairer for the after- noon’s frolic. B. V. K. ———————— The Smull Boy. From Trutb. Willie—“Did yer hev a good time to the picnic?”* Jimmie—"Great! Sis got into a bee's nest, pa fell out of a tree when he was putting up a swing, and ma burned her fingers making tea on an open fire. It was im- mense! : Just Like Finding It. From Puck. Lambly—‘I have a notion to take a little fly in sugar. What do you think of it?” Puttson Calls (the broker, impressively) “My boy, never ‘speculate unless you can afford to lose.” Lambly—“Well, I can afford to lose.” Puttson Cails (eagerly)—“My boy, now is the time to invest! A UNIQUE DINNER Where Vegetables Were the Main Feature of the Menu. MEATS WERE ENTIRELY OMITTED A Gastronomic as Well as an Art- istic Success. A FASHIONABLE FAD ‘Written Exclusively for Th» Evening Star. f OW THAT VEGE- CS: tarian dinners are Ve fa coming into fashion, the attention of the hostess searching for novelty is turned to- ward vegetarian ca- pabilities. A clever woman, who is an enthusiast upon the subject, has invent- ed eight different va- rleties of cutlets made entirely of vegetables. With a menu so arranged the information one that unless given would not be aware that meats are en- tirely omitted. She is a vegetarian only from impulse, however, and when she finds it refreshing. She is not one of the missionaries that preach what they call the “Gospel of Health” with the extreme views of Plato and Plutarch. Those fanat- ical ones never use meat—not even in so remote a form as eggs—whereas with rea- sonable vegetarians omelettes in their in- numerable contrivations are a favorite and a frequent dish, A vegetarian dinner lends itself most gracefully to summer and autumn enter- taining, when earth’s fruits are succulently ripened by the fatness of the clouds, in- stead of being forced into pale, spindling possibility by the heat and spray of the hot houses. Such a dinner lately given by an artist's wife at their summer studio cottage was a beautiful example of what may be achieved with the aid of our good, old, unpresuming friends—the vegetables. In the first place, the furnishing of the dining room was delightful. The floor stained moss green, was nearly covered with a Chinese rug of white camel's hair, strewn with a design of clover leaves, and the walls were hung with a palm paper— big, graceful leaves drooping against a cream background. With the al fresco keynote struck by this cheering room chimed the green color scheme of the din- ner. The Table Arrangements. The table cloth of plain satin damask had two broad, lengthwise stripes of Irish peasant lace, through which peeped the under spread of green flax. The little bijou of a dinner service was white Dresden, as were, also, the white candelabra, whose candles of light green were shaded with pond lily leaves, and a cut glass boat load- ed with white pond Ilies was headed on a diagonal course across the center of the table. Scattered over the lace stripes were crisp-looking lettuce leaves holding the bon- tons. These seemed to be only homely radishes, pea pods, button mushrooms, diminutive carrots and turnips, and they had such an honest air of the kitchen gar- den it was a surprise to find them the luscious triumph of a fashionable con- fectioner. Beside the plate of each lady was a home- made favor, quite inexpensive, but charm- ing in its originality—a booklet of parch- ment leaves tied together with a bow of leaf green ribbon. For a cover sketch a vegetable was painted in water colors, and @ paragraph of advice written underneath. One was a peck measure rounded full of turnips, surrounding a wise combination of Information and suggestion: “In oncient times parsnips were much es- teemed by the worshipers of Venus; at the present day they are much esteemed by any good cook, who will never send salt fish and but few salted meats to table with- out them.” ‘A bunch of curly parsley made one decor- ation, accompanied with a warning well worth regarding: “Parsley should always garnish and be served with any dish that is strongly sea- soned with onions, as it takes off the smell and prevents the after-taste of that power- ful root.” Three or four young beets tied in a clus- ter served to illustrate a bit of ancient history: “It was the custom of the Greeks to of- fer the beet on silver to Apollo in his temple at Delphos. Happy Apollo!” The Mena. A title page graced with one of the Egyp- tian divinities—tge onion—presented also the infatuated opinion of Lord Bacon: “The rose would be sweeter if planted in a bed of onions.” Inside this quaint volume the menu was written: Asparagus ‘“‘en branches.” Cauliflower soup. Onion fritters, with parsley sauce. Cabbage “en coquilles.”” Rice croquettes, with peanut sauce. Mushroom cutlets, with asparagus points. Boiled potatoes. Egg plant. Asparagus ‘“‘au gratin.” Spinach “‘souffies.” Ices. The guests, interested in the novelty of a strictly vegetarian repast, turned the con- versation earnestly toward vegetables— their history and their source. The fact that our fashionable asparagus came into use as a food 200 years before the Chris- tlan era received much more attention than the latest choice morsel of society gossip; especially as it was served in such a variety of ways, the dinner might al- most have been called an asparagus ban- quet. Because it is said to promote appe- tite while affording little nourishment it was served as a substitute for clams. Deli- cate green stalks—not the bloated, bleached enormities we sometimes see—had been boiled, allowed to cool, piled upon a platter of shaved ice and a French oil dressing was sent round with them in a tureen. The cabbage was presented in the way considered most polite and elegant by the Hollanders, who telieve it to be a health preservative. It was slightly boiled, put in shells of green Bohemia glass and season+ ed with salt and oil; this method gives it a beautiful green color and makes it more wholesome than the usual thorough couk- ing. ‘Lhe boiled potatoes resembled floral snow- balls—they bore no likeness to the dull, waxy bells ordinarily offered under that rame. The hostess attributed these mar- vels to her uncompromising demand when engaging a cook: “None need apply that cannot boil a potato well.” Some Favorite Dishes. The egg-plant appeared in Jamaica fash- ion, apparently whole. The inside had been scooped out and fried in butter, the outside boiled whole, then drained and filled with the fried parts. For the asparagus “aw gratin,” the vege- table was boiled in the usual way, placed in a deep dish in layers, each sprinkled with white pepper, salt and freshly grated Parmesan cheese. Over the top was squeez- ed a Ijttle lemon juice, then it was covered with browned bread crumbs, dotted with bits of butter and thoroughly heated in the oven. The ices were fn vegetable form—green peppers, cymlings, cucumbers and aspara- gus stalks. “The vegetarian dinner has been delight- ful,” was the post-prandial opinion hearti- ly expressed by a bon vivant so fastidious in his gourmet demands that he is rather a terror to inexperienced young hostesses. The party had left the dining room to- gether, the men choosing to puff the white clouds from their cigars on the broad re- cessed veranda, which was very attractive with ‘“‘grannie’’ chairs—cool, cane-seated ones unadorned, and luxurious ones, tempt- ingly padded, and covered with tinted denims. “Vegetables have never before seemed to me poe! 4," said a graceful, beautiful woman. “It is one of my pleasures, when walking through a garden, to remember the native home of the flowers and imag- ine them surrounded by thefr own scenery, but now I realize that vegetables, too, have | thetr history, their legends, their poetry. I believe I shall dream tonight of the cru- saders, pilgrims, merchants, monks, who brought s0 many, delicious vegetables to our English ancestors, from tern hill, southern plain, weaiern forest, northern meadow.” “And I shall dream, of the many strange stories that are wrapped up in the glossy layers of the Portugal onion,” said a pic~ turesque little dame, as she sipped her green chartreuse from the tiny mug of crystal, incased fn g silver frame of old Dutch filigree. “How my sympathies go out to Queen Elizabeth because the cauli- flower, although { nm from its cypress house to spread its powdered wigs in Italian gardens early in her reign, did not reach England unt!) she had passed beyond life's pie I am,so fond of caulifiow- er!” When Peas’ Were Expensive. “Queen Bess neéd not be pitied for that reason, however,” remarked the hostess, laughing at the epicurean compassion. “She had the exquisite pleasure of green peas soon after she came to the throne, when they were brought from Holland—a pleasure that must have been exquisite, in- deed, because so expensive, as they were considered dainties for ladies, they came 80 far and cost so dear.’ Hyen in this century ‘ladies’ like expensive things.” “I am sure we all have ‘liked’ your vege- tarian dinner,” said the guest of honor, bidding good night. “I feel refreshed gas- tronomically and mentally. Hereafter, my weekly household bills will convey to my mind such items as these: ‘One peck of Egyptian divinities; one bushel of Venus’ suffrages; two bushels of Apollo offerings.’ ” ———_ PIANO WIRE VIBRATIONS. Duration of Contact is Longest When Keys Are Feebly Struck. From the Scientific American. The motion of a pianoforte wire when struck has been investigated by Herr W. Kaufmann, whose paper on the subject in Wiedemann’s “‘Annalen,” and noticed in “Nature,” is accompanied by a set of very interesting photographic records, ob- tained by a modification of the method Jnvented by Raps and Krigar-Menzel. By vibrating the wire in front of a luminous slit and throwing the image of it upon sensitive paper rotating upon a cylinder, a white line is traced upon a black ground. This line, which is due to the interruption of the luminous slit by the opaque wire, exhibits all the motions of the particular point in the wire which is crossed by the slit. In order to bring the plane of the slit into exact coincidence with the wire, an image of the slit, produced by a lens with the aid of the electric arc, was thrown upon the wire itself. Since the hammer struck the wire at the point photographed the motion of the wire was traced from the very first, the commencement of the vibration being the most interesting stage. Hard and soft hammers were tried, the latter corresponding to those actually used in the piano. It was found that the du- ration of contact is longer with feeble than with hard striking. As the force increases the duration of contact rapidly approaches a limiting value equal to that of a hard hammer of equal weight. But the prac- tically most important resultant was the proof that when a wire is struck at a point between one-seventh and one-ninth of its length, the fundamental tone has a maximum, and the harmonics—especially the third—are very feeble. Hence, a wire thus struck gives its strongest and richest tene. This fact is acted upon by piano builders, but is not explained by supposing that the notes of the higher harmonics are struck, thus ‘preventing their being heard. They are heard, but are out- weighed by the more harmonious ones. ——___—+ e+ _____ THE HOME HOSPITAL. Special Suite of Rooms in Private Houses for Sicknens. From the Popular Health, Magazine. Every home of any pretensions should contain a suite of ‘rooms especially de- signed and arranged and kept ready for the use of the sick members of the fam- fly and their attendants. Such a suite should be located, In a medium-sized house, on the warm upper floor, and in the southeast corner thereof, so as to ob- tain the best sunny exposure. It should be separated from the other rooms on the same floor by halls with windows at their ends for free ventilation, and floors cov- ered with a strip of heavy cocoa matting to deaden sound. It should be provided with a water closet and a bath tub, empty- ing, not into the public sewer, but into a special receptacle capable of being easily emptied and disinfected. In fact, a good earth closet would be better than a water closet, and equally efficient. There should be no feather bed, no fancy cushions or upholstered furniture, no pictures, no wall paper, no curtains or hangings, or only those of the cheapest kind, to be destroyed after every illness. All the furniture and other belongings should be plain and simple, capable of be- ing easily cleansed and kept as aseptic as that of a hospital. The floor should be bare and painted, the walls and ceiling rough-finished and painted, with perhaps a dado of glazed, ornamented tiles. There should be no sink, wash basin, closet or other contrivance connecting with the sew- ers. Opening off the sick room there should be a sleeping room for the nurse on duty and also a small room furnished with a gas or electric stove and the other require- ments of a diet kitchen. The entrance should be through a vestibule of good size, so that the door of the sick room would not open directly into the hall. In this vestibule should hang a large rubber coat to cover the clothing of the attending phyician, and it should contain several pairs of felt slippers large enough to go cn over the boots of any one who may come in. There should also be a wash- stand in the vestibule, with toilet neces- saries and disinfecting solutions for the use of the physician before taking his de- parture. By such precautions the danger of his carrying infection to others would be minimized. The rooms should be provided with a well-lighted closet, containing every- thing requisite for nursing a case of ty- phoid fever, scarlet fever, variola, diph- theria or other contagious disease, all ar- ranged in order on shelves and properly labeled. The necessary applicnces for a surgical operation cr a case of labor could be read- ily added when actually needed. The entire arrangement of this home hospital should be placed in the hands of the family phy- sician, who will know exactiy how to fit it up. When completely furnished it should be scrupulously respected and never used for storing away empty trunks or broken furniture, but always kept clean and in order, ready for a patient at any moment. ———_+e2+___ The Ghosts That Ride With Custer. From the Army and Nayy Journal. I was with Reno, fightin’ hard an’ pressed on ev'ry side, ‘Till Terry ‘came, an’ then we I'arned how Custer’s ‘ane pa Titty td leds a’ h enin’ down,’ we saw ’em dead—wide eyes an’ faces gray, An’ ~~ red scene Will ‘ha’nt me, sure, until my yin’ day. But you ken see no comrade thar, While I hed Clark’ @ © troop, little Joe, with owts, not you!—you hed no sunny hair |S An’ girlish face, an’ eyesn’ Lips aye full o” smiles an’ thanks, # An’ I found him ear,by Custer, whar’ he dropped down in the ranks. The place fs thick with dysky shapes an’ visions all around, With gun smoke trailin’ gp the hills, dark splashes ‘on the ground, An’ airy mutterin’s In: th¢ wind, an’ yolces, like as not, O” those who ride by Custer's side about the bloody spot. An’ on the march, each wind-shod troop, the purple midnight thru, Now at a walk, now at @ trot, like passin’ In re- With sabers drawn af’ misty banners wavin’ over all, An’ moantn’ up'ard td the stars a desolate bugle call. The phantom sounds o” battle float along the peo- pled aig, Muffied comy®nds, an’ shoutin’, an’ a desp'rate, distaxt, cheer, ‘An’ shudderin’ steeds, an’ saber gleams, an’ pistol echoes, tho, An’—God ha” mercy!—down’ard rains a ghastly, crimson dew. When lightgin’ spreads, o' summer nights, its pen- nons €& the breeze; When Winter's ley squadrons clatter thra the quakin’ treess But most o’ ¢ti in June—in June, when the biood- red roses blow— The troopers ride by Custer's side, whar’ the Big ‘Horn waters fow. +o- Her Smile. Fiom Life. Rastus (to Liza, who has pretended to be “mifted”)—‘‘Dey ain't no use you turnin’ yo’ back, honey, kase I sees you smilin’ des de same! ANIMALS AT THE Z00 They Have Not Suffered During the Heated Term. FREQUENT BATHS ARE GIVEN THEM SS The Polar Bear Never Seeks the Shade. MONKEYS HAVE FUN The polar bear in a temperate zone is usually pictured as sweltering with the heat during the summer time by people who rely upon theories rather than facts on which to base their opinions. But the experience of the big bruin who began his life in a region of ice, and who now is continuing it at the Zoological Park, is far different from what might be supposed. The polar bear does not seem to be an- noyed by the heat nearly so much as do the domestic animals brought to the Zoo from the Rocky mountains. This may be accounted for in part by the fact that the polar variety of bear has learned the ad- vantage of frequent baths, and indulges in them to a much greater extent than the domestic animals. The managers of the Zoo, remembering that the animals there were considerably annoyed by the heat last sum- mer, have adopted a new method for the present heated period, which they have found to work admirably. The Zoological Park when it was laid out for its present uses was largely covered by pine trees, which added but little to the coolness of the grounds, and, in the opinion of some of the officials connected with the park, actually made the place hotter than it would have been without them. In many portions these trees have been cut away and desira- Yes, It is Hot Old’ Man. ble shade trees planted. Of course, it will be some years before these young shoots will be able to do the work for which they are intended, and in the meantime awnings have been resorted to, and placed over the bear pits and other cages that are located outside of buildings. The new Hons’ out- door houses will be provided with these pro- tections from the heat as soon as they are completed, and their comfort will greatly be added to in that way. So successful has been the experiment with the awnings that the animais during the present summer ap- pear to have experienced no trouble from the heat. Peculiarity of the Polar Benr. A peculiar thing about the polar bear is that while he has been given an awning along with the other bears,he does not seem to know enough to stay under it. The black bears are never in the sun, but their brother from the icy regions of the north lies outside the area protected by his awn- ing most of the time he is out of the water. This is accounted for by the keep- ers on the grourd by the fact that the polar bear has never known such a thing as shade. When the sun shone in his northern home there was ao way for him to get out of its rays, and his only method of keeping cool was by frequent plunges in the water. On the other hand the black bear has always been accustomed in his native haunts to seek the shade during the summer months, and he knows its advantage. It cannot be said that any of the ani- mals in the Zoological Park suffer from the heat to any great extent. But the flies which come with the heated term give them an enormous amount of annoy- ance. It seems strange to see a single horse fly completely mastering two great elephants, but that was the scene present- ed when a Star reporter visited the park a few days ago. The gigantic mammals were in the creek, where they find much comfort on hot days of July and August. A diminutive horse fly rested for a moment on the back of one of them, but he had hardly begun amusing himself with the epidermis of the brute when the latter The Elephants Bathe. with a snort buried his body in the water and the fly transportec himself to the back of the other elephant. In another moment there was a like performance, and for some minutes the elephants were kept bobbing in and out of the water, the fly alighting on the back of the one who had the cour- age to raise kis carcass above the water. Finally, the fly became tired of his amuse- ment and Jeft for other fields of usefu ness. Although the skin of elephants is supposed to be very thick, it is a fact that they are very sensitive in nearly all parts of their body, and no animal in the Zoo is more susceptible to the annoyance of flies than they. Even the common house fly bothers the elephants, and it is for this reason that the great brutes are continu- ally throwing straw or dirt over their backs when on land, cr blowing water over themselves when they take a Dath. Elephants Annoyed by Flies. Since the present hot spell of weather set in the elephants have been chained in a shady spot near the creek, and they enjoy the comforts of a bath as greatly as do any other inhabitants of the park. They are under a large tree and are so protected from the rays of the sun, and the shade and the cool bath in the creek contribute to make them thor- oughly ccemfortable. The flies of all kinds are the pests of the elk, deer and buffalo, and they suffer from these causes much more than they do from the heat. The skin about the ears of these animals is very thin, and this is the point of attack for the flies. The buffaloes become greatly excited after hay- ing been worried by the insects for a time, and will tear the ground as if mad. The animals of the Zoo that feel the heat most are those that are confined to houses. The officials in charge of the Zoo are gradually providing indoor and out-of- door cages for all the animals, both large and small, and when this can be fully accomplished there will be more comfort for the dumb brutes. When the house for carnivorous animals was built provi- ston was made for cooling the building by an air shaft, through which it was pro- pcsed to blow a breeze as if from the pole. All arrangements have been made to cool the house by this means, but as the engine to do the work is in the basement of the house, it is thought the practical opera- tion of the system would add little to the comfort of the place, for the cool air would have to overcome the heat of the furnace, which would not fail to make itself felt. As the animals in the house do not suffer to any considerable extent from the heat, there is no intention on the part of those in charge of the Zoo of starting up the cold air apparatus. * Lions Don’t Like the Hose. In order to add to the comfort of the animals the keepers turn the hose on them once or twice a day and many of the quadrupeds appear to enjoy a shower bath immensely. But the “king of the forest,” the licn, objects to such familiarities in a forcible way. There is no one thing that will so enrage the lions as to have the hose turned on them. They appear to be frightened by the operation, the danger of which in their sight does not diminish by familiarity. For this reason the keepers do no more than to wash the floor of the lions’ cage frequently and the evaporation cools the cages. What are regarded as the finest lions’ cages in the United States, or the world, are now being constructed on the outside Natural Gymnasts. of the indoor home of the kings of animals. The cages are large, and although light in appearance are exceedingly strong, as they are made of the finest steel. Stumps of large trees are being set up in them, so that the Ifons may delude themselves info believing they have escaped into the prime- val forest if they see fit to do so. Trees have been planted at the corners of the out- door homes of the lions and until they have grown sufficiently to give a protecting shade awnings will be put over them each summer. The lions now lie with their faces against the bars of their cages with- in the house and inspect the work of build- ing their summer homes, which they will be allowed to enter within a few days. Monkeys Have Fan. Of all the animals of the Zoo none seem to so greatly enjoy the comforts of a bath as the monkeys. The prototypes of the ancestors of their keepers are given tin bath tubs and they sit about the edges of these receptacles and splash water with all the enjoyment of a smell boy. Now and then an unfortunate splash with result in sending a stream of water in the eye of one of the monkeys and then there is a tussle which sometimes requires the inter- ference of a keeper to prevent the injured monkey from doing bodily harm to the splesher of the water. But it is not cften that their rollicking fun in the tin bath tubs has such a bad ending, and generally they live in comparative harmony through- out the day, keeping cool by a hundred baths. All the bears In the Zoo set a commenda- ble example to the inhabitants within and without the park. They take a bath upon rising in the morning, and they could not be induced to touch food until their ab- lutions have received proper attention. As at present arranged, one temperature would not be exactly the proper one for all the occupants of the house where car- niverous animals are quartered. Eventual- ly this condition will be corrected, and animals requiring a certain temperature will be kept in one apartment. Seventy- five or eighty degrees would be a com- fortable temperature for small animals of central and northern South America and Africa, though lions and tigers do not require a temperature above 6) degrees. In order to equalize matters an effort is made to keep the house at a temperature of 85 or 7 degrees. The Pride of the Zoo. The pride of the Zoo is Lobangula, the twenty-two-months-old lion, who was named for an African king, having been captured when a mere cub and brought to this country. Lobangula, now a baby of his kind in years, weighs about 400 pounds, although the oldest lion of the Zoo will bear the scales but twenty-five pounds more than that weight. Mr. Wm. Black- burn, the head keeper, prides himself on the fact that Lobangula will make the finest specimen of lion in the world, as he is now, considering his age. Lobangula doesn’t mind the heat at all, and rests with appzrent supreme happiness on the floor of his cage, viewing the progress on his summer quarters, to which he will soon have access. It is thought he will weigh over 600 pounds when he gets his full growth. A peculiarity of the bouncing baby lion is the fact that he is an exceedingly small eater, and this may account for his in- difference to the heat of his indoor cage. He subsists on five pounds of meat, in- cluding the bone that usually goes with it, per day, while the average amount re- quired by a iion of his size is twelve pounds of meat. Notwithstanding his small appe- tite, Lobangula is the fattest and slickeSt lon of the Zoo. While the animals of the Zoo have not suffered greatly from the heat during the present summer, they will have a cooler summer home as the years pass by. Abun- dant shade trees have been placed at most convenient places through the park, and when these have their growth the comfort of the park in hot weather will be greatly added to. As it is the mornings and even- ings are nearly always comfortably ¢éol, only midday and the afternoon giving a temperature that is trying to man and est. But even though the animals should suf- fer from the heat, that fact would not worry the keepers. Deaths from severe feat ars rot common among the animals. The spring and the fall are the dangerous periods for them. When the nights are cool and the days quite warm the weaker members of the race of dumb brutes are spt to become sick. But the animals of the Zoo hays found in the District of Columbia a very healthy home, for no valuable speci- men has yet died, and all of them are in a healthy condition. —____ Village Sw and Maids at Odds, From the Utica Observer. A dozen young men of Edmeston have formed what they term the Anti-Bloomer Brigade, the prime object of which is op- position to the new bloomer costume now in vogue with female cyclists. Each mem- ber of the brigade is required to subscribe to the following pledge: “I Hereby agree to refrain from associat- ing with all young ladies who adopt the bloomer cycling costumes and pledge my- self to the use of all honorable means to render such costumes unpopular in the community where I reside.” Some of the members of the new society have been compelled to break friendships of long standing, but the young women prize their liberties far more than such friends, and stoutly refuse to be compelled to abandon a costume which they regard as eminently proper and becoming. The young men, however, declare that they cannot tolerate the “new woman.” There is a number of young women from the city boarding in the vicinity, and they take ap- Parent delight in parading their hated costumes before the gaze of the would-be reformers. There is no doubt as to who will win, for the ladies have all the chances on their side. ——__-+e+ The Patent Expired. From the Hotel Reporter. Jones found Smith engaged in vigorously polishing his shoes. “What are you doing that for? I thought you always wore pat- ent leather.” “These used to be patent leather,” replied Smith, painfully bringing his spinal column into its normal position, “but the patent on them has expired.” ——-— ee On the Pinzza. From the Boston Saturday Evening Gazette. “How lorg has Miss Short been a sum- mer girl “Well, ’'ve been coming here ten years— oh, here she is—why, Miss Short, how young and pretty you look this morning!” ——+e+_ Unnecessary. From Life. In popping the question, he did prefer To do it in manner firm and steady; He did not go on his knees to her— For she was on bis knees already. — eee FASHION NOTES. Some of the New Things That Are Talked About. It is stated for a fashionable fact that chiffon and silk muslin have been supers seded by tulle tor evening gowns. When our grandmothers were “introduced” the favored ball gown was tulle looped with pink rosebuds, arfd that is the proper caper now. Tulle is so frail, though, that not many will care to spend gray matter evolving a gown that will look respectable only half an evening. For bodices it will be a little longer lived, but as it make: ene look bulky despite its diaphanous appearance it is not likely to become very popular. : However in the world are greedy manu- facturers going to get around the last new fabric? It is made of some kind of a “filandrovs” stone which is found in Siberian mines. There js a secret process by which {t is shredded and spun into a fabric which is said to be fine as silk, and just as pliable and soft, but that there is absolutely no wearout to it. It gets soiled, just as muslin would, but is put into a red hoe fire instead of a wash tub, and after it gets to a white heat it is plunged into clear cold water and comes out perfectly clean! As material enough for a gown would bankrupt a millionairess not much objection has been made to its manufacture as yet. Cloth of glass is an- other new fabric which never wears out, But its weight is something dreadful, and its cost is $25 a yard, so it will not become popular for a while yet, anyhow. A damp cloth and a dusting brush is all that a “glass cloth” gown requires to keep it clean. A woman's whole time and attention now is turned to hats and bodices, gloves and boots. Glcves cost a woman an awful lot of morey in the course of a year, for a lady can’t endure a ripped or soiled glove. That economical thing, the “taf- feta” silk glove, has had quite a run this season, and if one is careful in selecting a glove that is right small to begin with it really is not bad. ‘Then the taffeta glove has the merit of cheapness, and that a bath of soap and water will cleanse it beautifully. Next to the taffeta glove the pure silk glove holis the fort. It costs more money and does not wear so well, but even then it is far cheaper than a kid glove, and it, too, can be washed times without num- ber. In kids the glace glove has the call, but fer evening wear the coming season the undressed glove will be as popular us ever. White or black are the accepted colors. In the matter of boots individual taste only is consulted. It would seem as though the craze for the tan shoe had abated a little, at least so far as women are concerned. «Probably because a tan shce when once shabby is always shabby. You can’t straighten the heels, paste patch’ the side and varnish them into looking like new as you can the black leather, and really they are no cooler, though dealers will insist that they are. The white canvas shoe is popular for a white wear, but should never be worn at any other time. With white skirts above the white shoe does not look so very large, but when it shows beneath a dark skirt it enlarges the appearance of the foot ab- normally. The Trilby fad in shoes was short lived. Anything more idiotic could scarcely be devised, anyhow. The pointed toe still causes havoc to cramped corns, and probably will for @ season or two longer. Odd, how fashions in feet change, isn't It? A few years ago the “Spanish” fcot was the rage. It belenged to all southern climes, «nd the high instep and short foot was thick and ungraceful enough. Now women wear the life out of the shoe—men trying to crowd their broad feet into narrow, elon- gated shoes. One thing is sure, the longer foot is more natural and certainly more “genteel.” —_—_————_ HE HAD AN ENGAGEMENT. They Tried to Pliny the Hoosier Snipe Trick on Him. The young man had returned from his vacation. He was speaking of his visit to the west, and remarked that Indiana was ood place. Yes, that’s a great country out there— rice people,” said the fat man. “There was only one thing that marred the peacefulness of the occasion,” con- tinued the young man, “that old snipe trick, you know.” “Caught you, did they?” said the ex- kocsier, who was sitting on the edge of the perch. “That was a great joke when I was young—used to catch every tenderfoot that came that way.” “So we did,” chimed in the fat man. “How funny it was to leave the unsuspect- ing galoot in the middle of the woods with ® bag and candle, waiting for us to drive the birds up to him—and then go home.” “So they caught you, did they?” and they both laughed again. “It really was no laughing matter, I arsure you. It was this way: I was gp- proached by several of my friends up there and consented to accompany them on & stipe hunt. As the guest of honor, I was delegated to hold the sack.” “Ha, ha,” snickered the fat man. “They gave me a candle also,” went on the narrator, without noticing the inter- ruption. “Then the other members of the party left, to drive in the snipe.” The fat man slapped his knee. stayed there till morning?” “No; just they went out of sight I remembered an engagement to be in @ neighboring town next day, which neces- sitated my taking an early train. I care- fully concealed the sack and walked to the station, about two miles distant, where I found my grip, and took an up-bound train, “I afterward heard that my friends con- dveted a search for my remains, and were fearful they would be held responsible for my disappearance. Of course,” concluded the young man, as he arose, “I explained the matter several weeks later by letter, and expressed my regrets at being com~ pelled to leave at the height of the fes- tivities, so to speak.” “There is some people,” said the ex- Recsier, as the young man walked away, “that is so derned smart they ought to be lyr cbed on sight,” and the fat man nodded assent. “And you — Second Summer's Summer Girl, He—“You remember that good-looking ‘Tom Marken you jilted last summer? She—“Certainly I do.” A He—"He will be here tomorrow. She (firmly)—“Well, he'd better not give me another chance this summer.” BEFOR and good, My finxer came out, leaving me perfectly bald. Hot Springs > red hy this celebrated treatment, og ee ee became ‘Uisgusted and decided to try The effect Was truly wonderful. I com- jieneed to recover at once, and after I had taken {weive bottle: I was entirely eured—cured by 8.8.8. when the world - renowned Hot Springs had failed. ) WAS. LOOMIS, Shreveport, ° ° ° Louisiana. Our book on the Disease and its Treatment mailed free to any address. SWIFT SPECIFIC 00., Atlanta, Ga. 4 could get relief from # most hor- ible blood dis ease d spent hundreds of dol- lars trying vari-