Evening Star Newspaper, August 22, 1896, Page 16

16 - THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, AUGUST 22, 1896-TWENTY PAGES. : AT LOWER SARANAC! ee Fashion Penetrates Even This Love- ly Wilderness. + BICYCLING IN MAINE bin Proper Gowns for Hunting, Fish- ing and Lounging. CLIMBING ge ALSO MOUNTAIN alee (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) LOWER SARANAC, August 21, 1896. Sometimes in these green arches of the | woods I hear the mellow “‘clank! clank! of a cowbell, and am reminded of the cow- bell Which Mrs. Frederick Gebhart slung to her four-in-hand in Bar Harbor, just in frolic, before I left that blase place. Sometimes I see a figure rapidly ap- proaching over a perfect road, wheel- mounted, and reminding me of Newport and the wider world less wild, until it comes nearer and I see that it is—of all things unexpected—a woods guide, slouch hat on head, pipe in mouth, pack basket and seventy pounds of camp kit on back, pedaling serenely along, with a frying pan handie sticking out over his shoulder. Or I hear the beat of hoofs and drum of rolling coach wheels, and think of the car- Tiage parade of Saratoga; or a white gown with blue facings, glinting far through the trees, giving a reminiscent flash of the white breaking surf of blue ocean on the Newport rocks; but when I see the men, then of no piace in the world save these glorious woods could I be reminded. One point the Adirondacks have of superiority } to all other American summer resorts; | during the last part, at least, of the sea- son the men outnumber the women almost three to one. It is the paradise of the daughters of Eve. Men Who Stay. Not the mere Saturday-to-Monday fly- aways, mind you, who leave five blue Mon- days In their wake every week as they de- part, but men who stay. And such men! Here at the Saranac there is a considerable colony of invalids—has been since Robert Louis Stevenson stayed here—but after the 15th of August they are all at once quite outnumbered by the big, manly fellows, in | fore-and-aft caps and yellow leggings ane | belted blouses, with even more than the | usual masculine profusion of pocke come to chase the forest deer and’ “kiil| as Jaques puis it. Nowhere else will you see so many fine men at once, Save on the Thames just before regatta week, before the crowd of "Arries appear oiNthe scene. It a wilderness strangely modified. One hundred miles from east to wesi its magic circle covers, one hundred miles from north to south, like a big, round, green button sewn on mother earth, but it is now thrid by ratlroads, much of the way run- ning through game preserves, where the unscared fawns poke their noses through the wire fence and gaze wide-eyed at the passing portent; and there are big hotels Saiore, so that even in the heart of the mighty woods the seven-Saratogaed daugh- ter of the sirens can display all her finery. | Modern Diana. The huntress, the fair Diana, who her- self shoots deer, Is fortunately a rare thing here, oftener read of than seen. But it 1s @ fine thing to don one’s hunting gown, end properly chap-roned, of course, go “floating for deer” late at night through black, moorless stretches of water, the boat mak- ing no sound, the paddle thrust noisclessly through the water, until at length the dark lantern flashes full on the dun coat and the big startled eyes—and then away files the deer; for, as I said, the woman Diana sel- dom ‘shoots. She fs sped on her parting for such an adventure by belaced and beribboned mammas and piazza women as nerveless and uselessly splendid here as elsewhere. | Such a gown was worn last evening by the anxious, millioned mamma of a daughter who had been ordered by her physician to fall in love, if possible, and who had come to the Adirondacks as the best possible Dlace to fill the prescription. She wore—the mamma wore, standing on the plazza, fair, forty and not thin—a beautiful dress in a pale lac tone, striped with lace down the skirt and across the skirt and down the corsage and over the sleeves. There were braces of lace on the muslin bodice and the belt of certse ribbon was the one touch of solid color about it. Such gowns are worn in the widernesses. Matron and Maid. The two young women, matron and maid hardly distinguishable, off for the floating expedition were far differently clad. One wore a brown cloth costume with a close- cut bodice many buttoned and parting over a chamois waistcoat front. The turn-back cuffs were of the same material, and the hat was a quilled Alpine, best suited for woods wear. Just the least touch more elaborate was the young matron’s plain blue serge with its white waistcoat front of soft silk, its chamois belt with enamel pendants, its dotted tle, stiff collar and cuffs and sailor hat, but withal a sensible costume in contrast with the other ladies on the verandas. Both the adventurers wore russet leggins, which seem to go well with all short-skirted costumes, especially here, where briars do abound, and where even the men are beginning to find them a welcome addition to their ordinary costume. It is the wilderness, but only twelve hours or so from New York and a week from Paris, and we have evening gowns | on parade, fresh from either city, such as one in white satin embrojdered ‘in eilyer sequins, pearls and brilliants, which I par- ticularly noted, because it was extremely up to date, and because its bodice was short and sharp pointed, because the sleeves were like little short capes of con- siderable circumference, and because an embroidered band followed the line of the low decolletage and was upheld by two similar bands over the shoulders, and prin- cipally do I record the fact that the skirt was almost as richly decked as the bodice. Fishing and Flirting. But for the most part the swell costumes affected here in the woods are day gowns. There are wonderful white costumes and OFF FOR THE “DEER FLOAT.” there are marvelous parasols with gemmed handles and wildernesses of lace upon their roofs. There are the new shoes, slightly less pointed than of old, and hence, for the average foot, really smaller in appearance. ‘The most delightful excuse for flirtation is lake trout fishing. Because if you catch one he may weigh twenty pounds and make you famous, and if you don’t you must row very slowly across only the very deepest parts of the lakes, with a very long line, letting the hook sink well to the bottom, where, in the colder water, the big fellows lurk. ‘And in this slow progression eye can meet eye and— The pickerel fishing on Round lake is said to be very fine, too. And then there is mountain climbing, Mt. Ampersand being the favorite height from this point, its summit reached by a trail of incredible hardships, but affording one of the loveliest views in the world, of the green forest all around and Ampersand lake at the foot. Comes from cityward a bruit that tennis is new voted altogether slow and golf is su- preme. Some of the young people here seem not to have heard of it. Big hats go with ordinary day gowns, probably always will. I woncer if the young lady who was ad- vised to fall in love will folfow the prescrip- tion? ELLEN OSBORN. FLIRTATIONS Summer Houses Now Built on the Pagoda Plan. More Than One Story Needed in These Days of Sentimental Boarders. The summer house, that rustic substitute for the city conservatory, has assumed larger proportions this year than ever be- fore. It has always been looked upon as the rightful property of the youag women in the family—a sort of outdoor parlor for the entertainment of sentimental suitors. If conservatories could talk, they could tell us the nistory of many a romance in the lives of high-born mridens; but tke air would fairly ring with passion were the walis of the summer house able to tell all they hear. And there would be none of that munotonous conventionality about the stories which is supposed to be character- istic of the city-born suitor. Nowadays there would be a terrible jumble of aristo- cratic declarations of adoration modified by the influence of the surroundings, and the simple love tales of the rustic swains wio come a courtin’ to Maria Jane, or Sarah Ann, after the season of summer visitors is ast. i The Old Summer House. Indeed, this is the trouble with the sum- mer house as of old construci2d. It isn’t made to accommodate as many people as the exigencies of this season demand. There are mor: people at the country boarding houses and fewer at the fashion- able hoteis than ever before, be -ause every- body, from the multi-millionaire down, 1s economizing, each in his own way, and in general there is a higher social class at each boarding house than last year, not because the grade of the house itself has gone up, but for the reason that each par- ticular set has taken one step lower down. Before the advent of the city boarder, the young women of the family had no diffi- culty in arranging for the occupancy of the rustic parlor; they “took turns” and were satisfied. But since the country has come to be flooded annually with all sorts of people from the cities, the young women have been greatly hampered in the enter- tammeni of their friends. A few enterprising proprietors of country boarding houses have solved the problem by building two or three vine-covered par- lors at discreet distances from one another; but this takes up a good deal of the space which might otherwise be available for tennis or croquet. A New Departure. The very newest thing in summer houses has appeared at the top of one of the Cat- skill mountains. It is four stories high, with steps like a fire-escape leading up the side. Otherwise it is built exactly like any one- story house of similar character. The top floor has no roof, but only a picket railing, and thus affords an excellent opportunity for star-gazing in the evening, and for view- ing the magnificent expense of fertile fields and wooded valleys in the daytime. The top floor is also more exclusive, and is, therefore, more popular. There is frequent- ly @ race for it immediately after supper, and the couple that gets there first has pos- session. The next take the third floor, and so on. The house will thus accommodate at least four couples, and very often, when the case has not progressed too far, they occupy the floors in fours or even sixes— and with the addition of mandolins, and guitars and fresh, young voices, they make the air ring with college songs or the popu- lar airs that everybody learns nowadays by sheer absorption. Thus the summer house is made to take the place of the ver- anda, and, having an exposure al! around, it is much breezier, and what recommends it even to the older and less hilarious mem- bers of the boarding house colony is the fact that it leaves them in possession of the ver- anda proper, with the noise and chatter of the younger element removed to a distance that lends enchantment to both sides. —>—_——_ Cottom Manufacture in Japa: From the Edinburgh Scotsman, The progress of the manufacture of cot- ton goods in Japan has been such during the past three years that it has ceased to take any of the Indian yarn which Bom- bay used to send it, to the average value of the third of a million sterling every year. Although the tax on cotton im- Ported into Japan was till recently as much as 8 per cent on the value, the Japan- ese spinner works so long and s0 con- sclentiously that he has guite distanced the Bombay mill owner. nhapp! 7» how- ever, he overworks child labor. ut Japan cannot supply its own raw cotton, and its import from China has fail According- ly, a new trade has Spree up in raw cot- ton from Bombay, which Increasing 80 fast that western India is likely to do more than recoup for the loss of the yarn trade. The operatives in Japan work night and day in two shifts only, every man toiling for eleven and a half hours. The mills turn out from 80 to 40 per cent more yarn per spindle than those of Stes: and thcae of Osaka declare dividends of about 20 per cent every year. IN STRATA; SEASON IS WANING Men Are Not So Scarce at the Sum- mer Resorts. HENCE DRESS PROBLEMS PERPLEX Some Recent Notions of the Clever Modistes. TAFFETA AND FEATHERS (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) T LAST THE NEC- essary men have ma- terlalized at the wo- men’s summer hotels and the hop Is at its gayest. At Atlantic City and other re- sorts along the Jer- sey coast dancing has not been popu- lar, because it really isn’t interesting for the girls to dance with one another all the time, and the ten who go down from the city to the hore” to stay over Saturday and Sunday Prefer a promenade on the board walk to even the maziest of waltzes. But now 1s the very hour of indolence for those who are away for their two weeks’ respite, and as the gentlemen find plenty of leisure to cool off during the day, they are willing to “Join the dance” with a company of such agreeabie young ladies as have been developed by! force of circum- stances at the many watering places where Women is so much in the ascendency. Per- haps, after all, a woman's summer retreat by the sad sea waves, or in the mountain fastnesses and wildernesses, is productive of some good, and man may take what comfort he can from the reflection that he Tises in the estimation of the feminine re- cluse in proportion to the extent of his ab- sence. An Unfortunate Mortal. There is no unfortunate mortal so much to be pitied as the one man who finds him- self In a company of ladies when he is in duty bound to play the “gallant” to all of them. The ratio of 16 to 1 is probably somewhat exaggerated, but it Is not at all unusual to see one Ione, lorn man with a half dozen ladies who make life a burden for him if he dares to pay more attention to one than to the rest. That state of affairs, however, does not often outlast July, and row the overwork. ed martyr to the gentler sex finds his re- ward in the opportunity to devote his en- tire attention to the maid of whose amla- ble qualities he has had ample time to judge. At Newport galety began with the ap- pearance of the fleet of the New York Yacht Club, and the subscription ball at the Casino was planned with reference to it. Two elaborate weddings soon to take Place will add much to the social excite- ment. That of Miss Gertrude Vanderbilt avhich is set for next Tuesday, will doubt. less compensate for the lack of grandeur in her brother's nuptial ceremonies, Old and New Gowns. The Saturday night hops grow more and mcre elaborate as the season Sets old, for of what use is a trunk full of summer evening dresses after the calendar has got around to the oyster months again? But the girls are not merely wearing out their old dresses. There must be new gowns for the grand functions upon which the very destiny of many a society belle de- pends. Debutantes are especially inter. ested, for there are impressions to be made upon more than one notable, of whom perhaps the young Duke of Manchester ig the most eligible. The Duchess of chester, being an American woman he, would be a much more desirable motherin. law than one of the foreign ladies of noble birth whose propensities for disapproval of American manners and customs are often very trying to the heiress whose y money may save her noble lege from bankruptcy. A Paris importation which appeared for the first time at a dinner given in h of Miss Vanderbilt's approaching marriage had a Louls XVI jacket, showing that the French still cling to their pet fashion. The material was taffeta with pale purple pan- sies brocaded on a white ground. It was trimmed with old lace, ribbon, purple satin end miniature buttons circied with jewels The flaring collar and revers that suggest Elizabeth more than Marle Antoinette are of white embroidered taffeta, and turn back over a voluminous flounce of old lace that nesrly covers the front of the corsage, and basses under the belt, forming tubs’ that fall over the front of the skirt. The belt is merely a mauve satin ribbon con. pecting the sides of the jacket. Ribbon bows and lace flounces form epaulets over the shoulder and compensat. iene oieceses pensate for the rather Roses. A real Marie Antoinette costume is the one trimmed with wreaths of roses around the low decolletage. The skirt ts of old rose taffeta, and the waist, which ts little more than a large fichu, is made of cream-col- ored mousgseline de sol. The Marie An- foes oe has Pee flounces of mousse- ine, which cross ie waist tabs like @ sash at the bac, ©"? MMe in This surplice is very much the fashion at present and appears on all kinds of costumes. The street dress has its wrap ot liberty satin and lace crossed in front lke @ fichu with one end fastened at the side with a large bow. The visiting gown of grenadine over silk has a surplice vest that crosses at the buat and then passes underneath the wide belt that is another feature of the riew gowns. This visiting gown has a skirt trimming which will doubtless be much worn next fall. It has a graduated flounce that ches nearly to the waist in the back, a ——— to about twelve inches !n The bertha which was formerly sewed straight around the decolletage is now sizes sfejcrmeny cme 1 QVE WHILE YOUWAIT | New Ideas. The bolero j@cket is as ubiquitous as the surplice trimming, and with its jeweled trimming is decidedly oriental in. appear- ance. It is useg on evening gowns as well as street costiffvies and is made of the film- fest of materigis. A white chiffon gown has this jacket ef- fect producedgigq chiffon and jeweled rib- ben. The chiffodl is made over white satin. Two tlounces compose the skirt. The bodice has bands of erysta! trimming running up and down front and back, and the decol- | letage has same crystal trimming | around the edxe with a heading 6f chiffon. The satin sleeves are covered with chif- fon erabroidefedqwith white in a leaf vat- tern, and_headed with epaulets of plain | chiffon. The jacket is pointed and edged | with crystal trimming. Z The sash is another favorite of the sea- son, and*may be made of the same mate- {rial as the dress, of satin or Dresden rib- bon, or of a gauze material imported es- pecially for the purpose. The sash in the illustration is made of the latter material. It has a striped border of mauye and white satin to match the indistinct pattern in the body of the sash. | Ostrich feather collarettes are preferable | to the dainty silk shawl that used to be | worn because while they protect the skin from draughts they do not rub off the powder which some girls use to heighten the alabaster tint of their shapely shoul- ders. The collarettes have high, Eliza- bethan collars which give quite a majestic appearance to a tall girl and are not un- becoming to the damsel of short stature. Empire fans are growing larger. ‘The little ones were of no sort of use. Neither are the large ones, for that matter, but they look as if they might be, and the imagination goes a great way toward one’s comfort if it is only started in the right direction. ——- HOUSEHOLD HINTS There is the gravest danger for old or young in drinking ice water in blistering weather, or in drinking too much water whether it be iced or not. If a child wants a drink of water it is going to have it or howl, so if you could fix up some «ind of an acid drink that would quench thirst you might possibly save yourself’ the trouble of caring for a sick child later on. Weak, cold tea, slightly sweetened with sugar, and acid with a slice or two of lemon, kept in a pitcher in the ice box, is a good thirst quencher and is easily pre- (Copyright, 1896, by the Bacheller Syndicate.) Mr. Percival 8. Garden was a very, or at least he felt he was, a very superfluous man; albeit he had struggled desperately and manfully to disprove his own convic- tions on that point. He was standing near to a marble group in the drawing room of the Madison avenue home of the Olivers, jis most intimate friends. It occurred to him vaguely that the group might have been Cupid and Psyche, though the matter was not exactly essential to his reflections —rather a shadow hovering about them, as it were a mental neutral tint. He was !m- mediately occupied with the d—d (so he ex. pressed it in the privacy of his mind) fool ishness of society, and the deplorable frit- terimg away of precious time, which these sparkling, vacuous bubbles of social diver- sion induce. Garden was not a very popular member of his set on account of a perilous faculty he had of avoiding these very amenities he now so mercilessly rated. He was to be found at this reception—well, if the matter were probed to the bottom, principally be- cause he was rather fond of the Olivers; and Jack Oliver had reminded him he must not send a regret at the peril of a serious breach in their friendship, adding: “But 1 know you'll not be so cruel as to deprive Mrs. Oliver of such an excellent at- traction. Think of all the whispering over fans: ‘That is the wonderful Mr. Garden. Such a charming, darling fellow! Abhors dancing; docs not believe in love as it is Considers society a sublunary purgatory. Come, you'll not deprive Florence of such a.jolly subject for discussion when things threaten to drag.” Notwithstanding all this, Garden went to the reception, and occasioned little com- ment, or surprise even, except among his most Intimate friends, who alone were aware of his peculiarities, so nicely did he disguise them. He was one of the busiest men in New York; that fact was patent. Now he touched the nose of Cupid or Psyche (he was not precisely certain Fared. A little tartaric acid may be used in place of lemon in the tea, using a little sugar. Acid phosphates are excellent also. The idea is to use but little in a large quantity of water, and the child can drink freely and not hurt itself. Very soon the acid causes one to require less water. For insomnia you might try pounded ice in the hot water bag and usc it for @ pil- lew. Rather a startuing idea, but it really dces help some people. ‘The first thing a woman ought to do when she desigus giving her first dinner after marriage ts to instruct her husband how to serve. She should tell him that he is not to heap the plates with potatoes and tomatoes, beans, roast, gravy, dressing and a lot of other things, as the average man will do if he does the serving. A small spoonful of each dish, or better still, a reat helping of the meat, gravy and pota- nd then give the guest the option of taking the otherg on his plate. It is well to have small dishes in which to serve juicy or gravied vegetables if possible, but often $0 it Js better to let the gues wn mixing. The plate should n “I HOPE YOU DO NOT BELIEVE I “How charmingly ridiculous!” “That's right. So it is, perhaps, ridicu- Jous, and I shall have to turn in again on my poor old lonely soul—no one under- stands!’ ~ “But, my dear friend, am I to believe your peculiar theories carry you seriously so far as that?” “I am profoundly in earnest. My affairs of business are so absorbing that I can- aidly can give no time to love-making.” “Then you deserve never to get a wife, | if you cannot sacrifice your business for her. Why, love-making is the best part of a woman's life!” “Enough! I had expected to find in you, if not e firm believer in my theories, at it least a strong sympathizer. |You are the last straw. marry!” Now here a very singular thing occurred. Alice, of course, might have turned the conversaticn into other channels; rerainis- ences of old times; expericnces in the in- terval which had elapsed since last they met, an hundred and one other diverting subjects might have becn introduced and that would have been the end of it; but, instead, she fell into a meditative mood, pendering upon the subject at hand, fas- cinated by its very brilliant, though ob- viously absurd, novelty. She could not dismiss it from her mind, nor could she ever tell what had held her so potently in its spell. It came to her gradually that such an erratic herangue from any® one save Percy Garden would have been simply offensive. But he had been ever such @ dear old friend—and such a character! How ad and lonely he must be with bu ness alone to occupy him! See his face new so drawn and worried! No one under- steod him! To the world he was an un- desirable crank, an fconoclast, a cynic, an cffensive pessimist. She understood him well, for there was rebellion in her own heart against many of the foibles and fool- ish things of life. And yet could he be really serious in this last remarkable ec- ceniricity? She would probe him further. (Garden observed that this cogitation oc- cupied exactly three minutes. Time, h felt, would be an important factor in business at hand.) “Well, supposing, Mr. Percy (I am going to cail you Mr. Percy as in the old times), supposing, then, I should say in the rustic fashion: “I love you also very dearly. I That settle: I shall nev COULD HAVE BE SO ABSURD.” be so filled as to give no opportunity of cutting one’s meat without shoving things off cn the tablecloth. ‘Then it sickens one cn a hot dag, for instance, to have such a pile of stuff to wade through or leave on one's plate. Sensible mothers teach their daughters from the time they are able to toddle to pick up and’ put away things, their toys, or the clothes they have just tal off, the bits of work ‘that litter the floor. When the girls are older they are taught sweep and to dust. Then put to cic: up the table” and washing dishe: by little thé learti, naturally, and witl outourging, to be heipfill ahd self-reliant. It does nof In the Teast‘nterfere witit their rational enjoyment of childhocd and youth, yet lays the foundation fer useful, helpful, happy womanhood. When fairly exhausted with heat, go to the faucet and let the water run for a mo- ment, then hold your wrists under the stream for five minutes, the water run- nirg on the inside of them close to the palm, where the “pul. It will cool you surprisingly. A cloth wet in ice water and bound round your wrists and one on the top of your head will pro- duce a delicious sensation of coolness. Give the little baby a 4rink of water two or three times a day this hot weather. Feed ice cold, slowly, from a teaspoon. Don't forget the flaxseed when you are starting on your summer trip. It is in- valuable for any foreign substance that gets in the eye. Clover-blossom pillows are dainty con- | ceptions for hammock or porch piilows. Pick the heads and let them dry in open paper sacks, then fill the pillow tick with is supposed to be. them till it is ready to burst. Cover with brightly flowered chintz. Don't fcol with “freckle” lotions. Freckles come of iron in the blood, whicn the sun brings out. You might as well try to plane a knot out of a log. Mothers, are you quite sure of the com- pany your girls keep? Are the young men they like best boys of good family and cor- rect habits? Are they boys of moral stam- ina, with ambitions to be somebody, honest and honorable? Or do they swagger and smoke and swear, use slang and profane language? Are they “smart Alecs,” or quiet and courteous? You will probably save yourselves a good deal of heartac! and your girls much sorrow and trouble if you begin to supervise their companio quite early, and gently but firmly refuse let them mingle with any but the best. The mother who has not tried it can't imagine how much comfort a picture scrap book is to a restless child. Save all the in teresting pictures from the newspapers and collect all the cards you can. Never let a bright, colored pictured be lost. Take coarse, unbleached muslin for the leave: making a double page about the size of TI Star, folded once. Hem the edges all around. Put the pictures on with flour paste, and iron them dry. They will not come off then. Put the folded leaves to- gether, half-dozen in a bunch, and then with a long, strong darning needle and strong twine fasten them together through and through. The child can scarcely wear it out, and if you select your pictures care- fully “it will become quite an educator. Pretty colored cambrie with pink edges makes a dainty book, but not a useful one, as it soon becomes soiled. Don’t let a young baby, one under six months, or even older, stand on its feet if it is not strong, ;hecause it works Injury to the spine antl tenils to make the child bow- legged. You,can. correct a tendency to be bowlegged ty sthoothing and pressing a baby’s legs ‘half'd dozen times a day. Press the bow'in by massage, and by holding the leg firmly just below the knee and above the ankle and befiding it back. Be easy but firm in the matter, and the child will not notice it. You Will save your bowlegged child much fortification in after years if you will but.do this. The small,pougekceper who has but her- self and hugband to cook for has no idea how much §we¢ter and nicer corn cakes will taste made Of freshly ground or grated corn. It is hot @ difficult process at this season of the year. Use a large grater, and select nice sqund ears of corn that are well hardened. Sift the meal lightly, and use as you would old, well-bolted meal. It fs much richer. * Ammonia i; a very nice cleaner, when things are greasy, or very much soiled, but remember the fumes are very bad for the eyes, destroy the sense of smell if long in- duiged in, and that a copious use of it will simply ruin the hands. It Is true of nearly all cleaning flulds, however, and to save your hands you should carefully rinse them, and then rub well with some simple lotion to counteract the effect of the alka- line substance. A fine soft old silk handkerchief is the very nicest thing to dust the plano with. Make a pretty little silk bag to keep it in, and hang close to the piano, where you can use it at will. _—_ Teetotalers Will Bolt. From the Somerville Journal. One thing is certain—The B. & S. ticket won't draw the temperance vote. which) with his glasses, and, said he: There are times when even the fine passivity of a marble group is not the least desirable state. Had I the lamp of Aladdin I should desire instantly to be transformed into a statue of—well, let me It was his iver, “of a statue I once s I think it was. Why this heroic al edress?” Garden had not yet shaken off his em- barrassment when she put an end to it prettily, sparing him the additional con- fusion of an explanation. ‘Come, let us descend substantial than dead heroes, to things more if not less poetical. I have a pi nt surprise in store for you.” “Indeed!” “Yes. Let me fetch you to an old friend just returned from over seas.” __ fi Then when they were alone, said Garden to Alice Coates: uu again, Miss ‘ou may cell me Alice, as you d fore I went abroad,” said the petite,cha ing gi Mrs. Oliver had him, and then, m: y, “though you may not chuck me under the chin as you did then, because I am quite a young lady no ju see.” ar me, yes, quite a young lady. Do you remember our chats; when we used to poke fun at the courtly old dames at your mother’s affairs? I have never found con- genial compan: have quite gone out of socie become a kind of commercial anchorite, “How fortunate you are! But, then, you never really cared for society, did you?” “No, Indeed, nor did you. Are your ideas unchanged, Alice?” “Well, in a way. I still think, as you used to say, the world would be better off if there were not this terrible trifling with precious time. Yet—and I know you will pardon me—I am surprised to find you sin- left y entirely— “Mr. gle. Is it possible there has been no one charming enough to break through the— yes, I shall say it—pessimistic ice of your nature?” “No one, indeed. But, though, I will not be so vain as to say it is entirely, yet I will be bold enough t» say to my old con- fidante, it has been largely due to the fact that I have not had the time to devote to love-making. And, you know, it takes a great deal of gadding about before a man may even evidence his affection slightl: “Very true.” “Now, don't you think yourself that the conventional wooing is a very lamentable sacrifice of time? “If the woman in me concludes, no; but if I persevere aiong strictly common sense lines, perhaps, yes.” ‘How charming you are! Jove’ not changed a jot, Alice, since 3 r has been turned up and you have donned the harness of social slavery. But, to con- tinue our subject: I honestly think this business of love and marriage might be ex- pedited, for instance, in the commercial way. A man comes into my office with a proposition that is almost as important to me as a marriage, for it affects my life af- fairs very radically. I might even say it is quite az important as marriage, for it is sometimes irrevocable, while with mar- riage there is always the divorce court. I skould like to give a year's serious thought to his proposition, but it cannot reasonably be done. He wants an answer that same day, immediately, if possible. True, I take, say half an hour or an hour to turn the matter over in my mind, and view it in every light. As a rule, in that length of time I am come at a satisfactory conclu- sion. Now, if I could but find a woman to whom I might say: ‘Here, let us expedite matters; let us get this preliminary busi- ness of love making over with immediately and come to the point without further ado—’” ‘How unique!” interrupted Miss Coates, beaming. “Of course, it should be some cne with whom one is rather well acquainted—as, for instance, you and I—” “Mr. Garden!” “There, there; you see, heresy will crop out even in an old adherent! Let me éon- tinue. I take out my watch this way and say: ‘It 1s just 10 o'clock now, Alice. I love you very dearly! Wili you marry me to- night, right away?” rden, don't be so foolish. nee you went abroad and | Though she tried to say this with equi- poise and admirable insipidity, her f: flushed in spite of her efforts, and her heart throbbed with much violence. Gar- den noticed the blush and slight agitation and became himself very much excit yet with every evident outward co placene: ood!” said he. “I should say: ‘And now, if you will excuse me, I shall speak with your father. He 1s here, I unde stand.’"" Then, taking out his watch, is now fifteen minutes of ten. Where ur father “I think he is—’ and never until her dying day shall she understand how these words escaped her with such perfect in- consequence—“I think he is in the library with Mr Oliver.” Garden arcse, and putting the watch back into his pocket made as to go away. Miss Coates caught his sleeve. She was trembling, and the smiles had died out of her face. Said she: “Oh, Per I mean fen—don't be so fooli: He will uu are insane.” Ww the sleeve away gently. “Be carc- ice,” said he. “We are attracting | Attention. Don't make a scene.” | The next moment he was gone, and in a daze of excitement and confusion Alice hur- ried to the conservatory and dashed in emong the palms. | When Garden stalked into the library, bold as you pleas he found Alice's father an Jack Oliver smoking and chatting listles: The first thing he did was to whip out his watch and pose it in the palm of his hand. Then said he “Major Coates, I have just proposed to your daughter and she has accepted me. Are you willing we should be married to- night The cigar fell from the lips of the major ard he looked in blank amazement first upon his interrogator ,then upon Oliver with a slight questioning aspect in the last glance. Oliver burst out a-laughing, and the major turned again to Garden, helplessly, and said: “Perey, my boy, have you jost your senses?” “True,” the other answered, drawing a chair up to the table, this requires some explanation and justifiable waste of time, doesn't it?” Then he went into every detail of the con- versation between himself and Alice, as well as exploiting, incidentally,many of his views and some even which had no bearing at all, upon the sub- ject at present-of vital interest. Then, after he had finished, he took out his watch im- patiently to note the time that had been thus recklessly expended in the recital. “Gad,” said Coates, looking across to Oliver. “There's considerable sound sense in what he says. “Now, this is my plan,” continued Garder. “There is a clergyman here, Dr. Van Every. See how beautifully everything fits! Oliver here has power to issue marriage license: and as for witnesses, that need not be men- tioned with such a houseful.” “But Alice?” said the major. “I cannot believe she is a party to such wild plans! “Oh, yes, I know she will be agreeable! answered Garden. “She has said so.” “Will you marry me tonight—right away?” “Yet I am sure she shall have changed her mind by this time. She has had time to think it over collectively. I'll go find her.” _ put in Oliver, rising. “Let me do that for you.” Garden had placed his fob upon the table and playing a tattoo with his fingers tomor- ously on the crystal of the watch, he sai “I'll give you just three minutes, Jack. Now the major looked Garden over care- fuMy and the other returned his scrutiny with signal seriousness, much as he might have looked out of an earnest commercial disputation upon another business man with whom he was discussing some fine point in mercantile ethics. It occurred to the major in a fumbling, bewildering fash- ion that this was a state of affairs of which he had often sanguinely dreamed—but never, Heaven, no! never with such un- heard of precipitancy. Garden was even then exceptionally wealthy, and with his tireless devotion to money getting no man might estimate what would be the end. His own (the major’s) affairs were in a rather precarious condi:ticn, although few knew of it. And, indeed, he had closed the city house, sold the country place and sent Alice off for a protracted vielt with his de- ceased wife’s relations in England, in order that he might get a breathing space in which, if possible, to retrieve his declining fortunes. He had always had Garden in ‘his mind’s eye for Alice; for he had always admired the fellow’s sterling qualities. | Then the ¢rl had always entertained a fondness for Garden, looking upon him; since childhood, with the veneration and confidence of a brothcr—for she had no brother herse!f. The major had certainly expected they would marry in moments of <xaltation; but what nonsense, to think of such a procceding! What would the world say? At tais period of his reflections Oliver re- turned with Alice upon one arm and his wife upon the other. Jack himself was smiling blandly, Mrs. Oliver seemingly scmewhat amused, but Alice was a picture of loveliest ind‘gnation. She addreesed herself first to the major: “My dear father, I hope you do be- lieve I could have been so absuré “H'm!" said the major, in which utter- ance there hovered the very ghost of an inflection of disappointment. “I thought You did not consent, certainly. How could I think otherwise? But that fact does not n Percy's theories. I think they admirable.” Garden thrust his fob into his pocket “Oh, dear!” said he. “I see one hae be conventional. It is part of the primor- Gea) curse! This remark of Garden's seemed to have the cffect of dispersing the little party; perhaps on account of {ts embarrassing pathos, Again, it may have been a con- epiracy, or merely a desire to avoid the scene which Alice's cold, impersonal glance toward Percy very surely indicated. Her eyes were upon the carpet when the others | stole quietly out. She seemed gathering from its dim scarlet flowers the secret fires of her scorn, under which Garden must presently wince. When at length she looked up and found the others were gone —ail save Percy—a singular look of help- lessness came into her eyes. Instinctively (at must have been) they sought Garden He was still sitting with hie face buried { his hands. “Well,” she said to herself, “how lonely he rust be, after all!” Just then Garden looked up. The action was fatally exact. A moment later, @ moment sooner, and all might have been different perhaps. Garden seemed conscious of its fateful opportuneness, nor was he slow to take advantage of it. Hur- rying over to Alice, he caught her hands impulsively, while she was still in tha dawn-like thrall when a woman's m! self 1 revealed to her for the first tim solute! “Oh,” said she, dazedly, drawing away from him. “You were not in ear: Perey?” . perhaps not, Alice; but what ma‘ ters it? We have but taken time by the forelock, haven't we, dearest?” The rest is conventional. It was the old, old story, and Percy's pseudo-commerciai compact was sealed after a fas! hat may be traced back to the beginning of things. Hn IN DOYLE. NEWPORT ON THE WANE The Test of Wealth Proves a Heavy Handi- cap. Snap Shots at Noted Leaders ot Societ an They Relax by the Sea. Special Correspond OCEAN HOU: of The Bs E, Newport, Aug imaginative pictu with its mansic jeur, combix great gold, but of gr u endown only by the broken port, gauged ral wer exercised by wealth ties. The glory of > wane. Chauncey Depew on a recent id: “There have been m: things to 4 press the season this ye: And, 1 can see, the season is a dull one. are a few balls and other is he conti depression in animated talk is of the e of Mr. Harry Payne will wed Gertrude Vandert a ce of pleasant ¢ is one of the ed women in America e Breakers, situated on the cliffs, with He magnificent expanse of ocean view, is ever a source of in re. it even more so nderbilt loung pillow nd grows athing of the salt air. tertained by some of the to watch his prog th hair, Ww nger with t s have already embarked on Their recent musicale was not affairs given in Wast is one of the y sino; also Miss ( rious a ¥ ral idens whose faces and not their pa i served as their fortuncs at join in the dance. Hardly had they their places before there was a div line drawn. They were left to whether to leave or make themselves epicuous by having the floor to Ives. It is hardly necessary to add that they has- tened to conceal crimson faces back of closed doors. Such is Newport and the in- fluence of the gold question in the feminine world. The Right Hon. O'Beirne of the Pritish embassy is here for the season. Count M de Meek and his beautiful wife of the Russian legation are enjoying a short stay in Newport. ‘enator Chandler of New Hamp: has been here at the Ocean Hous on the Dolphin with Secretary The yacht being built for T in Cl le, Scotland, will be chri gverite, and in its elegance will ern palace. Already plans are m: the cruise. Miss May Van Alen was pres social world at a ball given at the English castle, “Wakehurst,” Tuesday. Miss Van Alen has only lately returned from abro: where she has been pursuing her stu in Italy. While a girl of wealth, the typical pampered child of fo) is medium height, with a figure Hh ing health, rather than beauty of o: Her golden hair is worn low and 1 away from her forehead. Her rc face glows with health and her sy brown eyes are expressive. With t charm of millions this heiress will not long remain in the eligible field. The Alen estate is opposite that of the Corn Vanderbilts. A nigh stone wall gives | air of English seclusion. Miss Josephine Brooks, who debut Saturday, s a beautiful man. She is biesscd not onl on her mother’s side, but by w she will receive from the Higxiase Young Alfred Vanderbilt pass-d he other day on horseback. He . boots and a light mixed c: ers. He ig not strikingly un! at nineteen, with slight phy<ique, though the supposed heir of th derbilt estates. Mrs. Potter Palmer called at yesterday. Her delicate beau‘s hanced by a gown of faint ii silk, the bodice trimmed with hess luce across the shoulders. Pink roses nodded on her broad straw hat, which was also adorned with clusters of lilacs. She was accompanied Miss Juli daughter of Fred. Grant, who, with Miss Victoria Sartoris, is a guest for the season. Miss Grant is a tall brunette and dr with a pronounced individual taste. Mr. George Alfred Townsend is at Ocean House. He is hard at work the day, but in the evenings may luxuriating in the breezes from the sea, Bie ag Hard Times on the Farm. From the New York Herald. eve Farmer Reaper—“Heilo, Waters! Fine weather this. Waters (the dairyman)—“Yes, very fine; but if we don't have some rain pretty soon I don’t know what I shall do for milk.” ——_-+e+ —_—_ A Twenticth Century Babe. From the Fiiegende Blatter.