Evening Star Newspaper, October 17, 1896, Page 16

16 _ -RWOMAN'S QUESTION Posing Problems Whioh Confront the Average Shopper. * WHAT 15 AND WHAT 18 GOING 10 Doubtful About the High Hat and the Double Skirt. PRINOESS GOwNS Gorrespondence of The Evening Stax, NEW YORK, October 15, 1896. NE OF THE MOST useful gifts a wo- man can possess,” said the active mem- ber of a “tongue sandwich” that was promenading 234 street, “is the ability to spot a dress ar- rangement that is premature.” “Premature?” echoed the woman on /) the right of the “tongue,” a little dubiously. “Premature,” repeated the “tongue, with emphasis. “There are three sorts of fashions; no, four sorts of fashions all the time. There are fashions that are fashions, fashions that have been fashions, fashions that are going to be fashions, and fashions that never will be fashions. We all wear the fashions that are fashions, un- less hard times prevent our sticking the scissors that cut friendship into the fash- fons that have been fashions. But the rub comes when we get a few spare dollars, either gold or silver, and it becomes neces- sary to separate the fashions that are go- ing to be fashionable from the fashions that never will be fashioned outside of a show window.” “I see,” said the woman on the left of the “tongue” with a not very certain in- flection. “Of course, you do,” said the “tongue” in @ voice that mzant “of course you don't,” but meant it with good-humored toleration. “At the beginning of every season,” went on the little black-eyed, black-haired “tongue,” “there are new fashions, prema- ture fashions and stili-born fashions. The new fashions usually grow out of the old fashions so naturally that you can’t mis- take them, but there are lots of experi- mental fashions. Some of them people will pick up slowiy. These are premature fash- ions, and if you can hit a few of them you are playing in luck, for a premature hat, for instance, will last easily two seasons. But there's always the risk of fas..ions that never catch, on. And those, unless you have heaps of money for freaks, are calamitou: “Well, show me a premature fashion,” said the woman on the left. Some of the New Hats. “The new hats with steeple and sugar- loaf crowns,” replied the “tongue” oracu- larly, “are slightly premature, but not espe- cially desirable for economists, because they come of a short-lived family. They'll be fashionable almost immediately, but not for very long. There’s a tall one in that window.” The hat thus pointed out was a large af- fair of silver gray velvet with a high and scmewhat tapering crown. Over this the velvet was draped in easy up and down folds, flaring suddenly at the top to show a lining of rose and gray silk and a full ruche of lace, and reminding one, irresist- ibly, of a hotel napkin spreading over the top of a glass in the waiter’s most approved design. The wide and fantastically curled brim of this hat was of silver white velvet, with clusters of pink roses bedded In green. The brim was lined with green velvet and roses drooped to rest upon the coils of hair. “That hat,” said the “tongue,” “looks im- Possible cff the stage; it was voted tmpos- sible when it, or its twin sister, came out in ribbon and straw last spring. But it’s got its mount now and will be taking its preliminary canters before you can say Jack Robinson.” “Do you see any still-born fashions?” ventured the woman on the right. “Well, said the “tongue,” not quite so cenfidently, “I hope those plumes that look like soldiers’ *shakos are in a: fashion that won't be fashionable. See, over there.” The sandwich stopped before a big store. It was a bridesmaid’s hat that was in question, fit for— “Injured innocence in white, Fair but idiotic quite.” Cream white velvet was its material,with sugar-loaf crown, over which the velvet was puffed diagonally, a long slender pearl buckle securing it on the left side. From the back over the top rose a tall weeping willow of white feathery stuff that shook its drooping filaments over its full share of the surrounding atmosphere. White roses lay beneath it about the brim, and under the brim were more roses and a gencrous bough or two of the willow hanging down upon the shoulders. “That com from a femous French house,” said the tongue, reflectively; “but I don’t see how it can go—very far. They Are Likely to Stay. “Fashions that are fashionable are safe and easy to find,” she resumed, more brisk- ly. “They are not quite so cracked or cranky-looking. There are the little toques with Tam O'Shanter crowns, not new, not especially distinguished, but always pretty and often extremely smart, if intelligently trimmed.” There was a good one next the weeping willow. It was of white velvet, with a red velvet crown and a white bird of paradise at the side. Another was a pale mauve vel- vet with paradise plumes. A big paste buckle on one side of the front suggested the thrust of a paste hat pin just over the eye on the other to balance the upper and lower twinklings. The sandwich turned to the discussion of THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17, 189¢>-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES, other matters, but one is forced to the con- clusion that in other departments than mil- there are experimental fashions that Ere iixety to thrust themselves upon un- willing women. The clinging cussedness of the princess gown is here, probably to stay, ‘The double skirt is here as a “transient,” waiting for a chance to press its claims for an invitation on a more assured footing. Flounces and crenulation walk triumphant- ly_abroad. The “new sleeve” has been new so long that the real sleeve at last collapses on self- respecting shoulders. The extremely “‘un- assisting” mode of a sleeveless evening frock will present itself as soon as there are evenings. Night textured cloths, like eastern cashmeres, are replacing the rough stuffs, long beloved. Tinseled cloths, costly and unbeautiful, are getting themselves bought and paid for. The autumn presents, indeed, more than the usual number of novelties, all of which, to be sure, have had many and long advance notices, and yet ‘have arrived but now. It may really be something of a task to get acquainted with our clothes. A Stylish Gown. A good example of prevailing modes was @ smart outdoor gown seen this. morning. Its material was a corded repp, shot blue and green. The skirt was probably four and one-half yards round the bottom, per- haps a few inches less. It was well gored so as to set out from the walst, allowing only a couple of box pleats behind. ‘The bodice was joined to the waist, a?ter a fash- jon once old, now new again, and was yath- ered to give a slightly full blouse effect in front, but drawn tight. behind. Down the front were two wide pleats, each trimmed with six rows of narrow green velvet frogged from neck to waist In a pretty pat- tern, while fanciful buttons in blue and green emphasized the effect of this odd de- sign. = chemisette of cream moussaline trimmed with lace showed daintily. where the cor- sage opened in front, and the green neck ribbons were relieved by lace frills. The waist band was green ribbon velvet, and the skirt was trimmed with rows of the same, in graduated widths forming hoops more than half the way down. An edge of nar- row sable fur finished the hem and the tight part of the sleeves. With this dress was worn a little capote of green velvet covered with frills of shot blue and green ribbon. A bunch of black ostrich tips and a tall white aigrette finished it at the side. A tailor made princess dress that walked the avenue was another model worth con- sideration. It was in brown repp, fitting like a glove and without even the usual modification of a folded waist band. A band of rich sable fur-edged skirt, sleeves and high, ruche-like collar. The broad hat of brown felt matched it exactly in shade and was trimmed with black ostrich plumes. A picturesque coat and skirt costume was of brown, smooth cloth with fawn-colored waistcoat and light sleeves, having flaring turn over cuff: ELLEN OSBORN. z ——_s—__ ABOUT TEA GOWNS. Handsome and acefal Creations for Such Social Events. The most elegant tea gowns are made of satin brocade with lace trimmings. A pale blue brocade with a considerable train had a loose front and Watteau back. The sleeves were made of alternating rows of puffs and insertion running lengthwise of the arm, with a slight puff drapery at the top. There was no lining and the pink arm gleamed through the openings in the Val- enciennes insertion. Another tea gown was made of a cream-colored material that look- ed very much like scrim, which was lined with rose-colored silk. Both of the above mentioned gowrs, however, are better suit- ed to a tea where the invited guests do not include gentlemen; as loosely flowing robes are not considered good form outside -the boudoir or breakfast room. However, so long as a lady preserves her waist line, she may drape her gown in any Style that pleases her, and there is a great distinction between the correct house dress and the gown for the street. Boleros and fichus of lace, jabots and vest fronts of chiffon are very soft and pretty. Even a train is desirable if the gown itself is trim and well fitting. One of the hostesses at a recent tea wore a gown with a front of pleated mousseline de sole reaching from the neck to the bot- tom of the skirt. But over it was an Eton jacket like the material of the skirt, orna- Mented around the edges of its revers and epaulets with jeweled passamenterie, and there was a wide girdle of velvet, which held the loose front in place at the waist. The skirt wes made with a long train. The daughter of the house wore a dress of light woolen material, which had a sep- arate waist and skirt with no suggestion of the neglige about it. The waist was tight in the back, but had simulated jacket fronts. There was a high velvet stock with a ruche of lace around the top and a wide flounce at the lower edge ich fell over the mousseline front. The le revers that were partly collar and partly epaulets were slashed in V notches, and the whole was edged with fancy braid. Braid also appear- ed_on the dart seams of the skirt. This is the place to trim the skirt, by the Way, either just below the waist, or at the bottom. One of the imported dresses in a large New York store has a frill of inch- wide black ribbon running across the front in wavy lines about six inches below the waist. The frill is headed with gimp braid. A pretty way to trim sleeves is suggested by a gown which ha armure with a raised figure in black velvet. The jacket and the bottom of the skirt were edged with a narrow band of chin- chilla fur. The front was white mousseline de soie. The sleeves were just good, straight, old-fashioned sleeves, but the fact was concealed by means of immense satin bows of three loops that stood out like epaulets over the shoulder and upper arm. Among the hats which voice prevailing styles, was one with a high crown that had a frill of white lace standing up around it and held in place with steel ornaments. Cock feathers are growing too common to be safe investments, and that pleated ruch- ing is getting dangercusly popular. Satin rosettes with steel centers look very like flowers. The parrot heads with swal- low wings and paradise tails look like noth- ing that was ever created in the heavens above or the earth beneath, but that doesn’t matter to a woman if the combina- tion only looks pretty. SE Three Balls. From Harlem Life. Razzle—“I thought you said that a mack- intosh was impervious to water.” Dazzle—‘‘So they are."" Razzle—“Not much. I had mine soaked before I had it a week.” a jacket of gray | PLAYING WITH FIRE A DIALOGUE. Scene: A parlor at night, with a wood fire burning.” A greyhound is stretched in front of the fire. Enter two young people. He. Only half-past 10! I thought it was a great deal later than that. How short the play must have been. And now, Lou- ise, please tell me how long you are going to let me-sit here with you. She (throwing off her hat and taking a chair in front of the fire, meanwhile speaking to the greyhound). How do you do, old Pizarro, you treasure, you sweet- heart! Come and let me give you a kiss. Isn't he a dear, Henry? He. A perfect darling. But you haven't told me how long I may stay. She. Oh, I suppose a cousin may stay till a quarter of 11, but not a moment later. He. Thank you. (Takes a chair beside hers.) By the way, I haven't yet told you of an interesting remark I overheard at the theater tonight. It came from a young woman who sat behind us, and who whispered it to her neighbor. What do you think she said? She. How in the world am I to know? Something flattering to you, I suppose. Perhaps she remarked that the back of your head was full of thought. He. No, she didn’t; although she might have, for that is where my cerebellum is situated. I don’t know where yours is. What she said was this (I give her exact words): “I'll bet you anything you like that that young couple in front of us is engaged to be married.” She. (Laughing.) Gracious! What a mis- take she made! And how could you think it worth while to repeat such a silly speech? He. Silly!’ Do you really think it so? She. Naturally. He. I don’t. (A pause.) Suppose we were, Louise. (Dreemfly.) Just suppose we were. Wouldn't it be delightful? She. (More dr2amily.) Ah, Henry, suppose ‘we were. Wouldn't it be dreadful? He. You know you don’t mean that. She. Realiy? Perhaps you know more about ft than I do. He. No, not exactly that, but aren't you rather hard on me? Am I such a bad fellow, after all, Loutse? Honor bright— would It be so disagreeable to you, just to suppose, just to make believe, you know? (Looking at her tenderly.) She. Isn’t this delightful! I do believe he is getting sentimental. Now, my fanciful cousin, will you piease tell me what good it would do to suppose a thing that can never happen? He. Everything 1s possible, Louise. She. You know very well that you don't think so, Henry, and you are only trying to make yourself believe—well, never mind what. He. You may laugh, but I assure yqu the remark of that young woman at the the- ater sounded very pleasant in my ears. I said to myself, “If this is the public be- lief, why, by Jove, I’ll help it alon; and from that moment I took great delight in acting the part that the public had as- signed to me. She. The plot thickens! And how, pray, did_you act the part? He. Well, since you force me to explain, I will tell you. I whispered softly and often to you; I read the program with you; I adjusted your cape fourteen times, and finally, I turned my back to Ham: let's soliloquy and gazed on the coil of your hair. She. Henry, you are a goose! And did “the public,” as you call her, say anything more? I am afraid she was having fun with you. He (sulkily). Since you are in such a frivo- lous mood, I won't tell you what she did say next. But it was something very, She. No, He. She. Impudenti if you sayii again. He. We are wasting time, Louise. I must Propose, and “there is no use in your trying to evade it. She. (Uneasily).: Very well, Henry, if you insist upon it, I suppose it must be done. But—io it well He. (Edging his chair cautiously nearer to hers.) I think—that is, I- belleve—my chair should ‘he a little bit closer to yours. Shouldn't it? She. Be very careful, sir. He. Your tong 's that of a powder maga- zine. How am I even to speak of a match in such a vitinity? She. (Turning! away her head, wearily.) Henry, Henry,:\if you do that again I will set the dog on you! He. Don’t take It to heart, Louise; it really isn’t worth it, And please turn your face so that you can see me. She. Take care, Henry—that might. spoil all. He. TAngrily.) I'd like to know why?) Am I such a fright? She. Well, have it as you like it. (Makes an effort and finally looks him straight in = face.) There, I think I can stand He. Are you ready? She. Yes. (He places his hand on the arm of her chair so that his little finger teuches hers.) She. (Snatching away her hand.) If you.do that again I shall slap you. He. Why, Louise, how preposterous you are! I thought you were going to play tair. Instead of that you are going back on your word. ‘This is not a platonic friendship we are acting. (Bitteriy.) We have played at that game long enough, it strikes me—ever since we used to climb trees together. (A pause, then, sulkily) I didn’t hurt you, did I? Henr: but can’t you propose without—I mean, can’t you pro} - tle bit further off? igiegeee by He. (Softening) Not with any satisfaction. Besides, Louise, I am your cousin, and as such I have a right to come some- where near you—hayen’t I? But you re- pulse me just as if I were no more than a brother! She. And surely you are not that—not yet, at any rate. He. What do you mean by that? She. Only a warning, Henry, that if you don’t propose to me in just the manner and with just the tone of voice and the Peculiar charm that my sensibilities re- quire in such a matter, I shall have to be @ sister to you, and smash the engage- ment. That is all there is about it; in fact, I think I shall refuse you anyway. He. Louise, I don’t believe you have the smallest ota of affection for me. She. Well, he shan’t be teased any more, poor little fellow! Henry, one would think from the expression of your face that you were really serious. He. Who knows? Perhaps I am. What would you ray If I were? She. Oh, in that case, I should refuse you merrily. He. I wonder if you mean that. Just walt ull you see how I can propose. Are you ready to give me another chance? She. I have no objection to your trying again; but, as I said before, I am very particular in this matter. (He placer his hand in the same position as before, touching her own.) She. Do you insist on this? He. Absolutely. There is nothing like it for an opening. Don't move. Let us stay as we are for a few moments and look into the filckering fire together, both of us silent and both of us happy. Now, don't laugh. She. I'll try not to, Henry. But if you knew how funny your nose looks in the fireligbt. (A pause.) Look here, Henry, you make me nervous. Unless you leave off blinking and do something, I declare I will send you out of the house at once. Don’t be, impatient, Louise; and be- sides, I thought. you didn’t want me to propose to you. If you keep on interrupt- ing me, you will enda my Inspiration, (4 pause.) Seriously, Louise, suppose i should some day fall desperately in love very nice. with you, would you treat me in this She. Oh, please, tell me, Henry! way? He. So you do really want to know? I am| She. Yes. surprised. But I don’t think you deserve | He. Of course. I knew you would say so, to kuow, since you are so disobliging and{ anyway. But get ready again, for I am refuse to take part in my little game. She (after a pause). Henry, I believe you are in love with somebody. He. You ought to know. She. Is she nice? Is she tail? What is her coloring? Do tell me about her. He. You ought to know. She. Come, come, Henry! this isn't pretty at all! He. Very well, if you are so extremely dig- ified, I must go. (Rises.) Good-night, Forgive me for being I am but a man after all (tragically)—a weak, affectionate man (go- ing) he. Henr: so funny. He (at the door). Couldn’t think of It for a = please stay a minute. You are Ske. He. He She. going to make the next move. Wait a minute. Pizarro is looking at us, and he makes me nervous, looks rather fierce. Perhaps he doesn’t approve of our relations. She. And what are our relations, pray? e. Oh, merely that we are pledged to be- come man and wife—that’s all! I beg your pardon; we are nothing of the kind. You have never even proposed to me. He. Don't be afraid, Louise, I am going to, immediately. Let me see, where were we? Oh, yes; I remember; we were looking into the fire together. Now 1 am going to turn toward you, and look long and eloquently at you, and my eyes are going to betray my secret. moment. _Besides, it is a quarter to| She. And please tell me how I am going to eleven, and it wouldn't be proper. You| Telieve my embarrassment during this said 80 yourself. long and soulful gaze? Am I to hum a She. Yes, I know; but, but (laughs and hesi-| __song? $ tates) suppose we were! Stay till eleven. He (hurrying back). Hurrah! a bargain. And, mind, you can’t go hack on it. (Settling himself in his chair and rubbing his hands.) Well, Louise, how perfectly charming of you this is. Now, candidly, could anything be more delightful than for you and me to be sitting here together in front of a fire, in love with each other and engaged to be married? What a state of bliss I am in! I feel like rolling over on the rug and kicking up my heels in the air! Eh, Pizarro, old boy, what would you think of that? She. Is this the language of betrothal! He. Of course it is. It must be, for am I not your fiance? Oh! but (pauses) how funny! It just occurs to me that I have never even proposed to you. She. Never mind about that, Henry; I will take it for granted. Besides, I should refuse you. He. But you can’t. Aren't you already engaged to me? You can't go back on your word, Louise. Oh, no! let us do this thing properly. This is scene first—you and I are sitting alone in front of the fire. The snows without are beating against the window pane, and the wind whistles shrilly in the chimney. Heaven help the poor souls that have to cross the mountain heights tonight! Your Henry, himself, has soon to plunge into that storm, Louise, and before he goes he wants to hear it spoken by those ruby (i beg pardon, don’t get angry)—he wants to hear you tell him that he is more to you than all the rest of the wide, wide world. Now, Louise, are you ready, for I am about to begin. She. Begin what? I am not quite sure that I like this game. I am afraid you know more about it than I do. He. I doubt that. Then you might He. Louise, I refuse to go on, unless you play your part properly. She. Then take away your Ittle finger. a , She. (Reprovingly.) Now, Henry— He. I won't. (Sulkily. I won't. She. Henry, you are the most obstinate man I ever saw. Very well, have your own way! I prom‘se not to hum a song. He. Then here goes! (Gazes at her and Louise? She. (Nervously). What? He. I am going to tell you something which you musi have known for a long time, and yet which I have hesitated to speak of, because—(here he gently possesses himself of her hand). She. Must this be done? He. It must. As I was saying—something which I have hesitated to speak of, be- cause—(he proceeds to get on one knee before her. At this action, Pizarro, who has been watching him intently, steps up to him, sniffs his hair, and begins to lick his_ temples). He. Get out, you miserable brute! She. Don’t speak roughly to him, Henry. He doesn’t mean to be rude. Don’t be afraid; he never bites. He. I don’t feel perfectly certain about that. I have a pair of trousers at home that tell a different tale. But, at any rate, whether he bites or not, he is mak- ing me ridiculous in your eyes, and I don’t like it. I implore you not to laugh at me, Louise—this is no laughing matter! (Pauses, then continues in growing agi- tation). Indeed, I begin to feel that I was never more serious in my life. I didn’t know until tonight—until this very minute, in fact—that something has hap- pened to me, Louise. It seems to have come so suddenly that I don’t know just how to tell you about it—Oh, hang it! this is no game I am playing; it is the truth! Whom Life. Ay cq Ui" ih AT A COMEDY. { ite \\ wl i shell ring for Carruthers Ghything like that to me | From Lite BS “Why do yea think, young man, (Stops in confusion, and, placing her hand to his lips, covers it with kisses). She. (Springing up). Henry! If you dare to do that again, I will never let you come near me! He. (Rising and walking rapidly up and down.) What have I done that [ shouldn’t have done? Was there ever such a girl in the world? How do you ever expect to become engaged, and not have your hand touched? Louise, how can you treat me in this way? You act almost as if you were afraid of me! It isn’t right, I say it isn't right! She. Now, Henry, don’t be cross. How was I to know you were—(hesitates)—you were —serious? He. Would it have made any difference if you _ had known jt? She. Then you were serious? He. (lronically.) Oh, no! Of course I wasn’t. She. Then if you were not serious you have no right to be displeased with me, Henry. And I am sure I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. He. You did. I am going home. treat me properly. (At this mcment the clock strikes eleven.) She. Good gracious! I had no idea it was so late. And I hear Carruthers coming to fasten the windows for night. Henry, you must go at once. He. I won't. This thing must be settled now. I am going to propose, even if I have to do so in the presence of Car- ruthers, She. Henry, do be sensible. You don’t know what you are saying. You really must go at once. I i t upon it. (Enter Carruthers, who proceeds to fasten the windows. Henry shakes his fist at Carruthers’ back, then turns quickly toward Louise, and, with a piteous glance, throws two handfuls of kisses at her.) She. (Reaching out her hand. Sotto voce). Prenez garde! (Aloud). Come in to tea tomorrow. ‘Three minutes later. She. (Alone by the fire, choking back a sob). What does he mean? He. (Outside; to himself). Patience, until tomorrow afternoon. LIVINGSTON HUNT. You don’t GALLANTRY DIDN'T PAY. And the Man Who Went to the Rescue of a Woman Got Badly Left. From the Chicago Post. After he had bathed his eye in cold water and put a bandage over it, and had used up a good supply of arnica and court plaster cn other parts of his anatomy, he consented to explain what had happened. “You see, I've always been a believer in gallantry,” he said, ‘and I make it a point to chip in whenever I see beauty in dis- tress.” “Very creditable,” commented one of the listeners. “Don’t you believe it for a minute,” re- turned the young man who had tried to be gallant. “If there’s one thing that a wise man will steer clear of it’s anything in this rescue line, and from this time on I’m going to be wise.” “Whom did you try to rescue?” asked one of the crowd. “How in thunder shoull I know?” retorted the man who was in need of repairs. “Do you suppose I could nything after I got that? Judging merely by the fecling, I tried to walk away with a steam roller in active operation.” He was getting somewhat excited and angry, so no one ventured any assertion for fear he might shut up tight and refuse to tell the story. “Well,” he said, at last, “you see, it was just this way: I saw a big, husky-looking brute talking disrespectfully to a mighty pretty girl, and it naturally riled me. @e kept telling him to leave her alone, but he kept pestering her just the same, and once or twice he caught her by the arm and tried to make her go with him, and anything like that sort of makes a man mad, you know. It looked like an easy game to go against, too, for he was drunk, so 1 decided to take a hand In.” “But he wasn’t so drunk as you thought,” suggested the man who thought he couid tell the whole story in advance. “He was worse than I thought.” “Then maybe he was one of those fellows who fight best when they are drunk.” “He couldn't fight a little bit, and I had him licked to a standstill inside of three minutes.” “Then where did you get that eye?” was the rather pointed question fired at him. ust as I had him finished,” he answered, “the girl called me a slob-sided dude, and cut in with a right-hander that blinded me. Then she inforn-ed me that if Jim wasn't drunk he could lick six of me, and before I could recover from my astonishment she landed on my chin. That little girl that I was trying to protect from insult and vio- lence at the hands of a big bully did me up in a little less than half of one round, and then went over and took his arm and led bim away.” He adjusted the bandage over his eye again and limped away with the remark: “Whenever you hear of a case that calls for gallantry and courage you let me know. I want to keep away from it ———~+e-- A TUB 1,600 Y ARS OLD. Discovered in an Old Roman Well and Carefully Brought to the Surface. From the London Times. My thoughts, when I was at the ruins of Silchester yesterday, were that hundreds of antiquarians all over the country would have given gold to any one who should nave told them of the great “find” that was there, and then to be safely brought to land. A friend and myself strolled over from Aldermaston to view the ruins and as many of the “finds” as were still to be seen. Mr. Davis, F.S.A., at present su- perintending the operations, explained to us how, when digging out an old well, he made the lucky discovery of a iunnel,which conducted him to an ancient gate, the ex- istence of which had not been before sus- pected. A windlass had been fitted up over a well eighteen feet deep, and men were digging out paiifuls of earth, which were being dil:gently hauled up. For two weeks the work at this point had been going cn, and within the last week it has been dis- covered that this was an old Roman tub- well. The wood seemed somewhat roiten, as might be expected after 1,600 years, so that the raising of the tub caused the greatest anxiety. The tub had been in- geniously fitted by Mr. Davis with two wooden sheives running all round it—one at the top and the other at the bottom, which both served to protect it from any strain during the preparation for hoisting. After one unsuccessful attempt to bring it up, during which a small portion of it was knocked off, it was triumphantly raised to light in a comperatively perfect state of preservation. We expect that the tub will shortly be on view at the Reading museum, where there is already a beautiful collec- tion of Silchester relics. A LEAP YEAR EPISODE. that my daughter wants to marry you? ‘Because she said she did.” HOUSEHOLD HINTS. It is said that a few drops of ammonia in the water for, refreshing house plants will make them thrive better. Be careful not to touch the foliage, as it will turn the leaves yellow. White suede gloves, if not too badly soil- ed, can be cleaned by “washing” the gloved hands in dry corn meal. Rub the worst spots with a cotton flannel cloth and a lit- tle of the meal. This is easy to do after you are dressed to go out, as it leaves no odor, but be careful to dust every particle of the meal from the gloves, as they will leave tell-tale spots on a black dress. Never leave your canary birds in a room that has been newly painted. It is almost sure to make them sick, and sometimes kills them. You can purify the atmosphere of a room by throwing resin upon burning coals in a shovel. It is said that a thin coat of varnish on straw matting makes it more durable. Strong cold sage tea is an excellent wash for a diseased scalp. Many who have tried this tonic think it excellent: One hundred grammes of alcohol, fifty of castor oil, two of rose water and about a teaspoonful of quinine. Shake well and after two days standing it is ready for use. Rub well into the scalp about three times a week. When the sponge sours in spite of your cere, rub the juice of a lemon thoroughly into it and let it stand for an hour or 1@b. ‘Then wash in hot water, then in lukewarm water, and it will be as sweet as new. On ironing day is the accepted time for mending torn linen and little frocks. The tired little mother can husband all her strength by having her sewing materials, thread, needles, scissors and patching ma- terials all at hand when she begins to iron. While waiting for the irons to get well heated after an hour's using, she can rest her tired feet by sitting down in a comfort- able chair and sewing cn a few buttons, sewing up slits and common rents, leaving the more complicated darning till later. But every article that 1 €eds a stitch ought to get it before the garment is laid away. Then there will be no enraged husbani over a vroken button hoje on his shirt, no crying child because its prettiest apron is minus buttons, or a baby catching its death of cold while the flurried mother runs a drawstring in its neglected dress. Just a little system in these matters would save a great deal of extra work and lots of heart- burning. Don’t let your hinges creak. A feather dipped in oll of any kind and applied to the hinge will stop its squeak. It is very poor economy to let sheets that begin to wear“in the middle go on splitting out. If they are of sheeting muslin, tear them down the middle, overhand the two outside selveges together and hem the torn sides. The sheets will then last as long again. If they are of the narrow muslin, tip and reverse the seams in the same manner. It is best to do this as soon as they begin to wear thin and not wait for holes to come. You can sew carpet rags on a machine very easily. Join the rags and sew oblique- ly across. Sewing a dozen or more sec- tions, then turn the whole thing round un- der the needle and sew right across again, then cut all the threads. You can mend your own tin ware. Scrape the tin about the hole so that it will be free from foreign particles, grease and the like. Rub across the hole with a piece of rosin till there is a fine powder of it all around, then lay a tiny piece of solder over it and hold a hot poker on it till it melts. Stair carpets will wear much longer if extra thicknesses of strong brown paper or cctton batting are placed over the edge of each stairstep the full width of the carpet before tacking down. The best spice for the table is variety. Make frequent changes in the viands, and see that the quality is unvaryingly good. It is the cheapest in the long run. You are often cheated in nutmegs, but prick with a pin, and if oil runs out, you may rest assured they are good. A wire basket for frying is almost indis- pensable in a well regulated kitchen. The girl who is looking for a place to work will find her services much quicker required if she presents herself neatly dressed, and the girl who studies the ways and methods of a careful mistress will not have the least: bit of trouble in retaining her place. Minced dried beef and scrambled eggs are delicious on a cold morning. If the beef is very salt, freshen it by letting it come to a boil in clear water; remove and lay «n a cloth to dry. Mince, and turn into the eggs in the frying pan, and stir all together. Do not salt the eggs. Never put pepper im mashed pota- toes, or in any stirred-up egg dish, because the pepper blackens them and makes them unsightly. HE WAS POSTED. The Old Stage Driver Showed the Boston Lady He Remembered Things. From the San Francisco Post. She was from Roston and was on her way to the geysers. She had rendered the stage driver thoroughly uncomfortable by throwing great chunks of botanical and geological information at his head, and he had about reached the determination tc frighten her with stories of highwaymen till she would get inside the coach, when scme gnarled and twisted oaks attracted her attention. “Do you know how old those trees are?” she asked, and was preparing to !aunch a whole row of figures at him when he sur- prised her by*answering very promptly: Yes.” “How old are they?” “Three thousand and six years.” ‘How do you arrive at such accurate re- sults?” “Well, a smart young woman from Bos- ‘ton what knows all about it teld me they were 3,000 years old, an’ that was six years ago, so they must be three thousand and six now—goin’ on three thousand an’ seven.” Led to Crime. From Up-to-Date. Kindly individual (going through prison) —“My good man, tell me what brought you here.” “‘Embezzler—“I tried to keep a bicycle in | HE PAID FOR THE WHISKY. A Curious Result of Loud Story Tell« ing on a Train. From the Chicago Inter-Ocean. It is curious how things fall out in this world, especially on suburban trains, One evening last week a party of students from one of the universities began swapping yarns. First one would take his turn at telling a story, and then the next would entertain the crowd for a few minutes. The talking was necessarily loud, in order to be heard above the rumbie of the cars. The passengers could hear quite weil, and not a few became interested and laid aside their papers to listen. “Now, I'm going to make mine a war story, boys,” began the third student in a high-pitched voice. e “You know in war times whisky was scarce and the soldiers resorted to all sorts of stratagems to get a dram. One day one of the boys said to a friend in another regiment: ‘Say, I'M give you $1 if you'll get me a half pint of whisky.’ ‘Done? replied the friend. ‘Give you that whisky before night.” But before night one of the regiments had orders to move, and the thirsty man was left without the whisky and without the dollar. Now, the curious part of it is that at a reunion thirty years after the man who was to have had the whisky was telling the story to a com- rade. ‘Of course,’ he said, laughing, ‘I've never seen the fellow who promised me the whisky from that day to this.’ “Just then @ man with one sleeve empty stepped up and said: ‘Weren't you in such and such a regiment, and don’t you re- member giving another soldier $1 for half a pint of whisky?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘And the regi- ment moved off and you never got the whisky ?” ‘€s." “Well, I'm that soldier, and I got that half pint of whisky, and’ I've been carrying it ever siace,’ and he pulled the flask from his pocket. The student ~esgae amid the plaudits of his compan- ons. An old fellow in front had been chuckling gleefully behind his newspaper. He turn- ed around and yelled heartily: “Pretty good, young man; pretty good. You've got things straight. I’m the man that paid for the whisky!” ——_++_____ A CAREFUL WITNESS. The young lawyer was determined that if vigilance could accomplish anything the case should be decided in favor of his client, and so when the careful old man went upon. the stand for the defense the attorney leaned forward, prepared to fight every inch of the way. “Mr. Johnson, the plaintiff,” said the careful old man, “said that if I would buy the house he would get Mr. Gimpson to re- linquish his lease. He said he thought Mr. Gimpson would agree to go. I guess—" “Never mind what you guess. We don’t want any hearsay or guessing. Your honor,” (to the court) “I object to this witness’ testimony. He is guessing at what he says. We want facts.” “Excuse me,” said the careful old man; “I was about to say I guess at nothing, and insisted on the understanding being es- tablished in my presence. So the two men got together, with me on hand to listen to what they said. I understand——” “Objected to as incompetent. Your honor, we don’t want to know what this man un- derstands was done. We want what he knows was done. We want—' “One moment,” said the careful old man. was about to say that I understand or- dinary conversation with some difficulty, an@ so that there might be no error, I in- sisted that they yell out their propositions in loud tones, which they did until you could hear them to the middle of town. I am informed— “Your honor!” cried the young attorney, “4s our time to be taken up in listening te hearsay evidence? He does not know. He was informed that such and sugh was so and so. What we must have is what he knows about the trade, and whether or not “I am informed on real estate values, hav- ing been a real estate agent all my life,” the careful old man said, “and I know what the worth of that lease was to the holder of it. Knowing the facts, I would fix his damages at $71 I believe-— “Objected to as a conclusion and as in- competent. What any man believes is not necessarily good proof. I don’t want to know what you believe, but what you know. We must insist on your telling what you know, and not what you surmise, cr what you conjecture, or what you think, or what you imagine. A court room is not a place for exploiting what a man believes, but what he is sure of. I think the court will support me in saying that we don't want to know what this man believes.” And the young lawyer looked confidently at the jus- tice. “I was going to say,” said the witness, “that I believe that is all.” —-o2—_—__ BULLET IN A HAILSTONE. A Tale That Would Do Credit to Mume chausen. From the Chieazo Chronicle. Col. Clark R. Wescott of London, Eng- land, who has been spending a couple of months in Chicago and the west, in the in- terest of a syndicate which owns considera- ble mining property in this country, is re- sponsible for the following account of a singular naturel phenomenon. His story is as follows: ‘One hot day a couple of weeks since I was riding along a mountain road in Colo- rado on my way to a mine in which I am interested, when I noticed high above me, soaring in majestic circle, an eagle. I had a 45-90 Winchester-slung across my back, and it was but the work of a moment to unsling the gun and fire at the bird, which appeared to be directly above me. The shot was a clear miss, and not caring to waste any more cartridges, I was about to ride on, when I was startled to hear what I took to be the dull ‘chung’ of a stone thrown by an unseen hand, which fell into a little gully partly filled with leaves, with- in twenty feet of me. “I looked carefully about me in all di- reetions, but could see no sign of a human being, and then dismounted, ana, scraping back the leaves, was astonished to find a piece of ice as large es a goose egg, and atout the same shape. Upon close exami- nation, I was further astonished to di cover my riffe ball firmly imbedded in its center. I have specviated a great deal over this phenomenon since that time, and the only solution I can see is that the ball in passing throngh the cloud gathered the moisture and held it by its whirling motion, so that it was frozen at a higher altitude and fell to the earth as I have described.”