Evening Star Newspaper, October 22, 1898, Page 16

THE EVEN. NG STAR, SATU RDAY, OCTOBER 22, 1898-26 PAGES. DOO ONO WOME TOO? wie sek seks 2) i ad (Copyright, 1898, b SOWA elsekre) 2 have agreed to accept seven-and, the pound from Hatchard? d, in his slow, manner, as smoked with his two friends after t the club. “f could not attend xg. but I hear that the affairs “Yes, took the uld have done bar pt court Gu sum he offered, and, of no good to put as far as the we concerned Very likely we e netted half a crown; but 1 i mind to refuse a compos t 1 his excitement Beazley es t f{ for oratorical purposes | ently taken th rug—he ii Was 3 s with it, Ox- | ow that the nt at Hatch: st-headed rds me take | that | son why a fellow could lay bh acfarlane’ nd ls st phiegmatic and silent of Scots ything unless speech was ab- ur id propositic ight not to cheat his fri bo person could deny, Mactarlane g that it is a rather bad case, Oxley admitted with reluctance, “but I'm for Tommy; when a man is at his he's apt to—forget himself, in he would be the first to burst in doctrine . i rieu nsactions. H well that when he w t rught not te m you a and me; ou named of him | now, but about Was little better made n> reply. Not one he simply turned rour ay. 1 pos? you think nt not to have been so hard on no doubt you did what seemed i Hatchard has not been quite x ow understand what I rs ago, and what avered hin: with uld gu Yes; t restaurant in D ad been drinking. That is the Hatehard ever did that kind of lieve, but §t will not be the last Was quite changed—half woebe- lesperate s takes to t uch Moved—“‘it's ach a soft-hear ing” —Macfar- all over with d chap.” Tommy Zot in the whole was perhaps rather hard 2 today—I half wish I had got > in Bu s nt on reminisi lin three da Was not to be All right, Ox Now, there's hes about hospit t the word for By and in m Freddie Beazley dropp slang. which no public sx gets which 1a i ration, I | Bi was a beastly gut, and a | > y. for all his cheek ‘now isn't black Te s shoes. Tommy was w you eall ‘pie,’ but he 5 t I'd give £10 n that word toc : down went m to « eohld not sit s s and was i answered Macfarlane ot has it,” said Oxley. “Tommy , but r himself, war at dear I w nd edu- | t deeper | a himself for | th defend him p it, boys. ys] And I say, here are thr i and—and—tight my on his feet ar root out of hi @arded Freddie with admira- that sort take ft from puld be a jolly de- | he wouldn pthers: and I say, it thing to do. all right, Freddie"—Oxley w: pleased—“and we're with y ry [shoulder to shoulder,” said Macfarlane Ing his pipe with ostentatious care). “Now, the first step is to let Tommy know that we have not turned our backs on him. My s that if he knows we three are foing to stand by him he'll not throw up a onge."” Look here,” said Beazley, “I'll go round this m . and I'll beg his pardon for i I sad, and I'll tell him that we haven‘; forgotten the old days among the hills, and at we know he's a white man, and * * fact, he'll take the cup yet. “That will help mightily; and now let us make up our plans,” said Oxley. And that was how three men joined in WED BY FAITH c WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING £TAR BY JAN MACLAREN. ; > RENO OW were victimized by those speculators! Now “Well, you know, Amy, soc fs not | very merciful, and I think women are the jcruelest of all. What hits a man, if he fortunate, or * * * worse, is that | r wife is made to suifer. If her hus- | sd * * I, med s acted | a lost me his | and made to feel shame, and I alone today be- vu know, Tom, 1 , to, althou have told you this morning | 1 now I have splendid news t give you; our Ws are a true steel. Now answer a question, Tom, to se whether you I agree about the dif- ference bety cuaintances and friend | everything | ar. LOONIE ae a Ww py John Watsen.) ae i MEMEO WOWOWOWE MOO Faye VES AE HO VOWOWOWT WOO OWE A) \ Se) 1 seh se hee Ks SRA 92), % ve) a conspiracy for the business and social and personal salvation of Thomas Hatch- ard. Ne “How late you are, Tom—8 o’clock—and hew tired you look, poor fellow! I've been thinking about you all day. Was it v trying this morning, or were they nice? ‘They ought to have been, for everybody must know that wasn’t your fault. “No, I don’t think everybody could ST that, Amy dear, for I don’t know it my- self, and some men have good reason to | know the opposite. Well, ees! ng, and worse after- | ult you, Tom? If ark of gentlemanly ave pitied you. Do + + * said’ thing: r v I want to share every sorr , darling.” ow ne Man Was very hard on me, and T didn’t expect it from him—no, I won't tell y } name, r he behaved very hand- somely in the end. Perhaps I didn’t d serve all the sharp words, but I am sure “I SAID HE WAS LITTLE BET a punishment I'll not tell you another word. What is wrong? Has any one injured you? Was it Mr. Beazley?” “Beazley said kinder things in my office to me, in difficult circumstances, too, than I ever got from any man; some day, Amy. I'll tell you what he said, but not now—I cannot—and he spent two hours canvassing for business to start mé'as a corn broker, and he got it.” ' “It could not be Mr. Oxley.” “Oxley has given me a cargo to dispose of, and I never had any of his broking be- fore, and he told me that some of my old friends were going to—to—in fact, see me through this strait, speaking a good word for me and putting things in my way. “Yes, of course, Macfarlane came to the office, and said nothing for fifteen minutes; just gripped my hand and smoked, and then he rose, and as he was leaving he merely mentioned that Beazley and Oxley had be- come securities for £5,000 at the bank; he is in it, too, you may be sure.” “How grateful we ought to be, Tom dear, and how proud I am of you, for it’s your character has affected every person, be- cause you are so honorable and high-mind- ed. Tom, something is wrong. Oh, I can't bear it; don't cry * * * you are over- strung * * * lie down on the couch, and I'l bathe your forehead with eau de cologne.” “No, I am not ill, and T don’t deserve any petting; if you knew how mean I have been you would never speak to me again. If thi had scolded me I would not have l eared, but I can’t bear their kindness. “Amy else ye you must not send for the doctor, will put me to shame; my mind is quite right, and it isn't overwork; it’s * * * conscience; I am not worthy to bk your husband, or the friend of these me “You will break my heart if you talk in this way. You unworthy! when you are . truest, noblest man in all the ay a word—and everybody d you must let us judge. Now and I'll get a nice little supper nd his wife kissed him again undeceive her,” said to himself when she was © believes in_me, and those fel- believe in me—Freddie, more than use trying to rER THAN A SWINDLER.” I haven't deserved any of the kind words | that were said before the day was don But never mind about me just now; tell me how you got on. Wasn't it your visiting day? did * * * any one a “So you were nking about me in all your troubles! s wife put her arn round Hatchard’s neck—“‘and you were afraid 1 should be deserted because you Men the s of the three familic you would expect to stand by us in our iL “The Oxi would hz yes, au . of course, id the Beaz! Macfarlanes wi . and—T , and, let me although their the manner doesn't aliow them to show what see, they feel; am I right “To a man (and woman), they all called teday—the women, I mean; I daresay the men called on you. And they all said the nicest things, and what is b they said the nicest things about you they id and if you doubt my word we shall separ- ate—do you really think I would chaff to- day? Sit there, just where I head on your shoulder, and I It was 2:30 when I began jock and wonder whether me: have other people h ng? About te rang, and 7 it was not ean lay my Il deseribe to watch the gan to think fr simply rushed along and 2 the first de- ce minute and how I would, Pet, and that is why they did it to you actly eight © time today and in came Ww What she cried F Well, ¢ ein i I couldn't help ymfort. She hadn't -. and that was just righ i never say uner again,”” said Tom 3ut she spoke quite | ward, al told me of son trials no one knows. fwhich they had ten years ago, and how he ver loved one another so much before. When ri you their confidence it touche x and we used to think her voice harsh, 2 to laugh at her acc “God forgive said: "You know how quiet Ronald how he hardly ever gets enthus Well, it would b. doue you ird hin speak about Mr. Ha s morning. He said— Don’t tell me, Amy—it * * * hurt but I’m grateful, all th me, and never forget it. And who came next?” “Mrs, Ox! and what do you think? We are to have their house at Hoylake for Au gust: so the chicks will have their holida. Oxley has been quite cast down, she about you, fer he has such a re- good of them to think about but never mind about me. very unfeeling, Tom, to stop me at the best bits, when I had saved them up committed them to memory; perhaps would get vain, however, and become quite superior. What do you think of your ‘kindness.’ and your ‘generosity,’ and your ‘popularity,’ and your ‘straightness?’ You are shivering: are you cold?” No, no; but you havent’ told me if Mr: Beazley was kind to you; did she call be- the tween 4 and Yes; how did you know the hour?” “Oh. I * * * guessed, because she *** was last, wasn’t she?” “She apologized for being so late; indeed, she was afraid that she might not get round at all; but I'm so giad she came, for no one was more glowing about you; I saw, of course, that she was just repeating Mr. Beaziey’s opinion, for every one can see how he admires——" “Tom, you are very ungrateful, and for anybody, after all he said they will not be dis and, please God, ppointed in the end.” 1. “You've got here before me, Mac,” cried eddie Beazley, bursting into Oxley’s pri- vate room, ‘and I simply scooted round. Oh, I say, you've broken every bone in my hand, you great Scotch ruffian; ta the ruler out of his fist, Ox, for heaven's sake, or else he'll brain us. “Ox, you undrel, read that letter alond. Mac wasn't a creditor—he wishes he as this day—and he doesn’t know it ver- batim, and I'm not sure ut a word or and up, old man. and do the thing ‘There, now, we're ready.” , 1897. Tt will b your recollection v, INST, 1 was obliged to make creditors while trac nt ler the style of (oi that thes um of 7 pt the in the pound. as you may he a corn broker, stance of certain r friends here had Immediately aware, I be and owing to the my creditors kind a rs, 1 find that I can now afford to careful examination of the balance of 12 shillings and 6 pence is morally due to my creditors of . and it affords me much personal satis- faction to discharge this obligation, I therefore beg to inclose a check for the “Did Any One Callt” amount owing to you, with 5 per cent com- pound interest, and with sincere gratitude for your consideration ten years ago. I have the honor to remain your obedient servant, THOMAS HATCHARD. sn’t that great, young gentlemen?” and Beazley took a turn round the room; “it’s the finest thing done in Liverpool in our time. Tommy has come in again an easy first on the ten miles—just skipped round Baughfell; there’s nothing like the old school for rearing hardy fellows with plen- ty of puff in them for a big hill.” “Thomas'll be a proud man the night,” remarked Macfarlane, “and his wife will be lifted.”” “What about the Hatchard securities and encouragement company? Isn’t it a boom- ing concern, and aren't the three men lucky dogs who took founders’ shares? Oxley, old chap," and Freddie grew serious, “it was you who put Tommy on his legs, and helped him on to this big thin “Nonsense! we all had a share in the idea; and now that I remember, It was you, Beazley, who sang his praises that day till Macfarlane allowed his pipe to go out, and I had to join the chorus. Isn’t that s0, Mac?” Macfarlane was understood to give judg- ment of strict impartiality—that the one was as bad as another, and that he had been a victim in their hands, but that the result had not been destructive of morality character of TI s Hatchard, beyond which nothihg ntdre could be said. He of- fered the opinion on his own account that the achievement_of Thomas had been mighty. “You can ppt ygur money on that, Mac,” and Beazleyt werkt off again, “to pay up the balance of that composition and every private loa ith-interest, compound, too, is simply At’ TY. H. has taken the cake. And didn’t he train for it, poor chap!” “No man enjoyed a good cigar more than Tommy—c mg take him in with bad tobacco. Wel, Tehenpen to know that n> hasn't had one smoke since July 7, '87. Of course he could have had as much "baccy as he wanted; but no, it was a bit of the training—givipg Gp every luxury, d’ye see?” “I wish I ‘was Thomas the night, marked Macfarlane. “H>'ll have a worth- while smoke.!’ | 5) “He rather liked a good lunch, and did justice to his grub, too,” continued Beaz- ley. “Well, for ten years he’s taken his midday meal standing, on milk and bread— not half bad all the same—at th> Milk-Pail in Fenwick street, and he wouldn't allow himself a cup of tea. You saw how he lived at Heswall, Oxley?” “Yes, he found out that he could get a little house, with a bit of garden, for £40, taxes includ=d, and so he settled there and cut the whole concern here. There was one sitting room for the children and another for themselves, and the garden was the drawing room; but I don’t believ> Hatchard ever happier, and Mrs. Hatchard has turned out a heroine.” “Tommy played up well,” broke in Bea ley, “and he never missed a chance. Ther has not been any brokerage lying loose in the corn market these ten years, you bet: and what he got he did well; do you hear that MacConnell of Chicago has given him his work to do? Tommy is boomeling down the deepwater channel now, full sped. What's to be done? That's the question. We simply must celebrate. “Well,” replied Oxley, “I suppose the creditors will be giving him a dinner at the Adelphi, and that sort of thing. But there’s something Hatchard would like far better than fifty dimmers. He has never entered the corn exchange since his failure, and I know he never would till he could look every man in the face. What do you say to ask William Greatheart to call at his cffice and take him?" “Oxley, you are inspired, and ought to take to politics. It's just the thing Great- heart would like to do, and it will pleas» the men tremendously. I bet you a new hat there will be a cheer, and I see them shaking hands with Tommy. It will touch up two or three scallawags on the raw first-rate, too, who hay> made half a dozen compositions in their time. But what about ourselves, Ox?" said Macfarlane. “We're not_com- s in this concern. We’ founders, that’s’ what we are.” “I was thinking before you men cam> in that a nice piece of silver for their dinner table—they will come up to town now—say a bowl with some little inscription on align “The very thing; we'll have it this after- noon. And Ox, you draw up the sered, but for my sake, as well as Tommy's, put in somcthing about honor, and, old fellow, let it be strong; it'll go down to his boy: and be werth a fortune to them, for it wi remind them that their father was an hon- est man. It is not needful to describe, everybody in the Liverpool corn knows, how William Greatheart came i the room arm in arm with Thomas Hat ard, and how every single man shook hanc wi s because he had gon2 beyond the law and done a noble deed, and was a credit to the corn bu: and how Tom- in Liverpool, nor, fas Tia ruinous to the beca market my tried to return t for his health a week after at the;Adelphi, and broke down utterly, but not before he had explained that he wasn’t at all the good man the: thought him,-but that he happei had better friends than most men. What is not kgown is that on the very evening of the great day a spegal messen- ger brought ever to the cottage®at Heswall a parcel, which, (being opened, contained a massive silver bowl, with this inscription: o- 0 bo uk To | MRS. THOMAS HATCHARD, | From Three Friends, | In Admiration of Her Husband's | Business Integrity and { Biainiess Honour. | ° } Judy 7, 1897. 9. — And that om the first anniversary of the great day thé Hatebards gave a dinner par- ty in their:newchouse on Mossley Hill, where six guest» were present, whose names can be easily supplied, and the bowl, filled with:roses, stood in the center of the table so that all could read the writing thereon; that without any direct zt to the circumstanc or any Viola good tas the bowl me into conve! eleven times, once in praise of the rosi in @ sion of the pattern (Quc Anne), once with reference to the pedestal f Irish bog cak, once in yerification of fact that “honour” was spelt with a “u” dit eddie who with much ingenuity turned the searchlight on honour),and seven times in ways too subtle and fleeting for detecti« When the ladies left the room 1 look between the host and his held the door, and when the were fully lit Tommy and with some pauses, a h which may not sound very eloquent on paper, but which the audience will never forget. $ a text somewhere in the Bible, . pretending that his cigar was not dr: h runs something like this, ‘Saved by faith,’ and when I look at that bowl I remember that I * * * was saved that way, but it wasn’t * * * my faith It was the faith * * * of you three men.” ART AND ARTISTS. The landscape work done by Mr. Edward Siebert during the past summer at Paxson, Va., though not large in amount, is nota- ble, both on account of its thorough han- dling and its genuine artistic feeling. One small canvas, a view into a deep woods, has about it an especially refreshing out- door quality in the cool green of the foli- age and the delicate color of the grass in front. Another good piece of work is a woodland brook with a strong sunlight ef- fect, while in a different key from either of these is.a glimpse of a harvest field full of the reildish-brown hues of approach- ing autumn. Equally attractive, too, is Mr. Siebert’s sketch of a swiftly ° flowing rivulet tumbling down over its rocky bed among the trees, Which is full of rich and brilliant coloring. ; parts of New England offer greater charms to the artist in search of picturesque undscape than the coast of Maine. Mr. Frank Moss, who spent the summer at Prout’s Neck near Portland, has returned with a numberof suggestive sketches and studies from that region, although he de- voted only a part of his time to work. One of the best of these fs a view looking across a small bay to the hills on which Speaker Reed's summer home is situated. The col- oring in the ‘water and in the wide sweep of sandy beach in the foreground is. e: pecially striking.;;Another canvas shows ¢ typical bit 9f Maine coast, in which the ntral featpre ig the shore line of dark and rugged rocks, A couple of Mr. Moss’ other sketches along the coast are equally enjoyable, while jin his studies of the salt lakes and marshgs further inland he has been very suceesstal in reproducing the warm, rich tnts_of the grasses growing in those localid¢s. * * ‘The friends in this city of Miss Clara Hill will be glad.to hear that she has resumed her work at the Julian School in Paris after a summer spent°on the coast of France. She expects*to do work under MacMonnies during the pteseht year, and will probably return to Atherica nee summer. Sok poke The arrangement of the permanent ex- hibition of prints at the Congressional Li- brary is rapidly approaching completion, the work of the English and American schools of engraving being now largely classified. That of the former begins with William Woollett, who by an effective union of the point and the burin brought land- scape engraving to a height never before attained. Three of his plates are shown, one of his well-known “Solitude,” after Wilson. The broad and vigorous style of Sir Robert Strange is shown in a number of fine examples, notably his Charles I, after Van Dyck, and others after Guido Reni. Two excellent plates by Boy- dell are shown, and Samuel Reynolds and Valentine Green, both of whom engraved many of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ painti: are finely represented. The specimens shown of his work. hardly give an adequate idea of the great talent of William Sharp, who rose to fecognition largely through his en- gravings of David Wilkie’s paintings, none of which are shown, but two of Wilkie’s subjects appear in this group, engraved by Raimbaén and John Burnett. A very beau- tiful print is the “Death of Oedipus.” after Fusell, By William Ward. the eminent en- graver In mezzotint, and an instance of Samuel Cousins’ fine work is seen in a ate after Mijlais’ “No!” a charming sub- ject. 5 The rise of the American school of en- graving. about 1840, is marked by ‘ine ex- amples by Alfred Jones and Charles Burt. both of whom later devoted themselves to tank note engraving, with the result of bringing that work ‘to the high artistic plane it now occupies. Beautiful speci- mens produced about 1870 by the National Bank Note Engraving Company are at tributed to these artists. Of the earlier American engravers there is work by John Sartain, John Cheney, William Humphreys and others. Coming down to a later date we find a case of etchings, among them a landscape by James S$. King, and one by Peter Moran, after H. W. Robbins, hardly to be surpassed in the richness of its tex- ture and tone color. William Sariain has two specimens of engraving, one being after H. Siddons Mowbray's “Symphony.” Then there are two reproductions of J. G Brown's pictures of street urchins, one en- graved by H. RB. Hall and the other an etching by Charles A. Walker, while the is fine artist etchings by rd L. Field and Arthur Solitude” itable m otint engraving b Bentamin Landers, full of deep but subdue feeling; and a plate after Percy Moran's “The Wish.” by Charles Schlecht, who is probably the most eminent bank note en- graver since the retirement of Jones and Burt.. The print room also cou mone its temporary exhibits an intere group of photographs taken by William Dinwiddie Davis, whose gem; an original in Cuba, which attracts considerable no- tice. These are of the now historic scenes about El Caney and San Juan, several of them showing troops in act * A number of drawings have been left at the Coreoran Art School us specimens of work by perscns desiring admission to its classes without any name, or at least with- out any legible address. Some of these drawings are very good, and the school would be glad to locate their owners. * n. Rudolph Evans, ‘the promising young Washington scuiptor, who is now studying abroad, has resumed his work at Paris after a vacation spent by ihe seashore at St. Aubin, France. His bust of Baron Doiley, which was admitted to the Salon has received much favorable comment. M Evans studied at the Jullan school 1 winter, but was undecided whcther to con- tinue there this year or not when last heard from. * * Ok The design for the large decoration wh Mr. S. Jerome Uhl is to do for Mr. How ell Hinds of Cleveland, has met with th latter's approval, and Mr. Uhl is now read. to take up the work. The painting is to 1 a large ceiling decoration for a music room thirteen feet three inches by nineteen fee: ten es, rounded at one end to corres- pond with the room in which it is to placed, The design is open, rather than in- tricate, cor ng of figures single and in groups playing upon a variety of in- struments, and suggesting the idea music. The figures are outlined against a light airy background, the color scheme of the whole decoration being extremely delicate. Before undertaking the painting, Mr. Uhl wishes to make a study of som of the best decorative work of its kind, and accordingly left this week for New York cily, where’ he will remain for the rest of the month. The size of the decoration will make it necessary for Mr. Uhl to work on it elsewhere than in his present studio, and if advantageous arrangements can be made, it is possible that he may conclude to do it in New York. The most recent piece of portrait work done by Mr. Uhl is a likeness of Marshfield Steele of Spring- field, Ohio. Mr. 8. Jerome Uhl, jr., accom- panied pis father to New York. where he will resume his studies at the New York Art League. ine * x * Hoyle succeeded in finding interesting subjects for her brush in vicinity of Linden, Md., where she spent the latter porticn of the past su ner. One of the canvases with which shé re rned is a sketch of a forest interior near Linden. The dcep greens of the mid mmer follage are —characteristically brought out in this whi the sunlight breaking through behind the tre nd the ng of the rocks in front, relieves the y of the green pervading the rest picture. of somewh. ilar Mrs, man the nnie ceio inten of the sort is ene, in which a brook shaded s along its banks is the cent Quite different from either of these is the work which Mrs. Hoyle did in King George county, Virginia of which the most attractive her meadow sketc where a_ buncn sheep are to be seen in the foreground with a glimpse of water on the ieft. yellow and sere appearance of the 5 after a dry summer, and the effect of heat which the artist his obtained in the sk and on the fields is excellent. Another sketch including a flock of sheep and an unfinished canvas of a typical old-time Virginia ox team are promising works. * * OK Mr. Jules Dieudorne has been at work lately on a large cat.vas, begun some time ago and afterward iaid aside, which will probably be entitled “Vanity.” In it is represented the nude figure of a girl seat- ed upon a divan in the center of the pic- ture, with her back turned toward the spectator and her head inclired slightly to one side. On her left is a glass, into which she is peering with interest and admira- tion, while the space on her right is broken by a vase filled with peacccks’ feathers. In composition the work is extremely dar- ing, and its success will naturally depend on the life and animation which the artist obtains in the figure. Thus far Mr. Dieu- denne has done some excellent work on it and expects to have the canvas ready for the spring exhibition. * * * sylvania Academy of the Fine Arts will hold its sixty-eighth annual e hibition from January 16 to February The architectural section of the exhibi which wili be in charge of the T- Club of Philadeiphta, will close on ary 2. In variety ana extent this tion is one of the most important is perh exiibi- of the year, and consists & works in oil painting, water color, sculpture, architectural de- sign, mural decoration, drawing, etching, engraving, wood and stone carving, stained glass, tapestry, or any other medium com ing within the scope of the fine arts. The prizes and awards for the exhibition are the Temple trust fund of $18,000 for the purchase of works and the issuing of med- ais, the gold medal of the Pennsylvania Academy, the Walter Lippincott prize of $300 and’ the Mary Smith prize of $100. Entries for the exhibition must be made on or before December $, while works must be received at the acedemy before Decem- ber 22. * x Ox Mr. F. J. Fischer's crayon portrait of Capt. Allyn Capron, the heroic artillery officer whose death occurred at Fort Myer not long since from the wounds which he received before Santiago, has been on ex- hibition at Veerhoff's since its completion and has naturally attracted no small amount of attention. The portrait is -aid to be an excellent likeness by Captain Capron’s family and friends, showing a fine, manly face and a physique apparently strong and robust. a heap Generosity. “See how willing baby is to give me a plece of candy.” Johnny—“Huh! He knows you're only pretending to take it.” ————__-+-—______ Wants Quickly Filled. At this season, when so many are seek- ing situations, and, on the other hand, so many seeking employes, it is of interest to know that advertisements under the classifications Wanted Help and Wanted Situations are inserted in The Star at a charge of 15 cents for fifteen words. STYLES FROM VIENNA‘ Slender and Tight Effects Are Latest Edicts. - SKIRTS ARE YOKED AND BUTTONED Two Pockets Are Allowed Which Need Not Be Hidden. = SACK CLOTH COATS Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. VIENNA, October 13, 1898. brought A Fashion's latest edicts have about an absolute r>formation of style. few months ago women enjoyed the freedom of motion which the short stays and loose blouse forms gave, and medical authorities had reason for predicting a! new and healthy era unhamp2red by tight clothing and superabundance of weighty cloth, - when—pr change!—this much pra‘sed common sense beczme perhaps too common for variable femininity sto Tight and slender eff2cts engros: ambitions, are th mfortable, short abandoned and instead a t el is buckled on over not the or of st and ps and less uncomfortabl because it is covered with silk or satin and daintily trimmed with ruffied lace and baby ribbon. Over this new corset form | the modern bodice !s fitted tight and flaw- | less and the long b: ‘alls closely over | ack and hips of th e skirt | umes decide expans> knees and d length to f ollyw the proporti of the long basque | jacket or cape. The tight sieeve with th> very slight extension at the shoulder adds still more to the tall and slender effect, and we will | werder during the course of the coming | season at the sudden lengthening of the feminine world. Blouses Wili Be Worn. Fortunately, the blouse form has endear- ed itself so much to its wearers that many new models still adhere to it, and for even- ing and house wear it is as yet absolutely indispensable. The modern skirt, howe is fixed in its shape, whatever its use may be. The newest form is without folds at the back, and consists of a short, close- fitting yoke cut on the bias and reaching | just below the hips; tt closes at the back with large fancy buttons and buttonholes, and thus avoids any accidental aperture, which would be likely to disfigure so tight- fitting a skirt were it not securely fastened. To this yok> is attached the gradually widening skirt, which measures about tive yards at the hem and can be trimmed to suit the fancy. It is needless to say that this form is very trying and it requires an almost fault- less figure and carriage to do it justice The bodice worn with such a skirt can close at the back with buttons like those which fasten the plaquette at the back of the skirt. One handsome model of gray cloth has a skirt of this description. The plaquette is | closed with three large buttons o1 simili set The yoke is joined to the wider skirt by a wide band of guipure edged on both sides by ruches of gray : The bodice is tight at the bac with buttons li front forms a loose box-pleat in th which is covered with tne same v pure with its edging is on the skirt. A narrow belt of & Vet finishes the bodice at the wais the high folded collar as weil as the are of gray velvet One decided advantage about skirt is that its scarcity of a pocket at some impossible fore Fashion in a fit of unusual genero: allows two pockets which need not be hid- den; they are attached at both sides of the front gore under a smail stitched plastron, which in some s forms a foundation for the trimming which decorates the skirt. Capes SUll Fashionable. Capes are an indispensable addenda of the present day attire, and the imagination of the dressmaker varies the form of them in- finitely. The modern cape, however, fol- lows the same rules as the skirt and bodice and inclines to lending an effect of length. The serpentine flounce has invaded the cape also, and the most generally worn are those which have one or more serpentine flounces hanging from a tight yoke Our model serves as an example and was designed as a completion to the handsome gown recently illustrated in these columns. Rich purple satin cloth also forms this cape, which Is lined throughout with pale blue satin. Two serpentine folds add to the length; but the most interesting nov- elty consists of the broad reveres of chin- chilla which extend from the front of the cape and form a part of it. At convenient length for the arms these reveres form a dainty muff, which is likewise lined with padded blue satin. At the throat a jabot cf cream-colored guipure embroidered with gold lace falls in artistic cascade folds along both sides of the fur, and the lace moiif is repeated at both sides of the muff. The pointed Medict collar is also faced with chinchilla fur. The complete tallormade costume has somewhat supplanted the independent jacket, so that the latter is rarely worn ex- cept in one of the bizarre shapes which it has recently assumed. Among these the sack form is more prominent than becom- ing, and is generally made up of white or cream-colored cloth. . Just Like a Man’s Coat. One model which was executed for a the modern | goods hous jis but trifling. Fife prominent Englishwoman of tall, dignified presence, deserves mention The sack coat is shaped on much the fame lines ¢ man's 4 is fashioned of very fine icloth and lined with he sat w Teveres turn b though the sack is wor ‘ 4 able-breasted, and ean be closed, n with this sack is core It is an “an and the high crown is black 5 h forms short loops t ties a cluster of black ¢ at complete the black ‘ of this te t. a black satt s wor lt is of perfect fit and w n 1 ming whatsoever and bears che fashion only in its many gores ane stuitc d with black silk, which Y s closely above the knee and widias into a sudden and decided Mare below, To Keep Skirts Up. Frem the Philadelphia Times A stunning belt pin has made its appear ance and will be hailed with delight by t irrepressible shirtwaist girl. It is a strong pin, resembling a bar pin, and when se- cured lengthwise through the skirt and shirtw there is room for a leather. duck or silk belt to pass through. It is impossible for the belt or skirt to slip when held in place with one of these pi are of gold, studded with pre- says an authority on the has shirtwa One the » over the it down by mean row piece of belting and a small be drawn about the on the outside of the nd the skirt pinned to the belt’ with atch pins. By adopting this method devotee of the sbirtwaist saves not time and temper, but the shirtwais and no end of unfavorable comment lack of affiliation between her bod skirt. it Diades shall not r st ider is to of ay his can ly waist very ti shiriwg oo “Battie-ship gray” is the newest color. The haberdashers have it in ties, scarts, iery and gloves. It is coming in on gear for men and women. In the dry and the delight the feminine s it is found in ribbons other trimmings tha heart. The mills are beginning to turn out fabrics for men and women, and this cer- viesable dull, but withal attractive color promises to become a fad for all kinds of wear during the winter. —— +o. ituations Secure Man: ons ar < want advertisements in 17 os! words. Biliousness, dyspepsia, loss of appetite, disturbed sleep, nervowsness, headache’ giddiness and drowsiness, wind and pain or fullness of the stomach after meals, cold chills and flushings of heat, shortness of breath—these are the blank cheques of al bankruptcy. Take to a ician and he will fill them up with the name of some more or less serious disease. Every time that you carry one of them to him you draw out some of your funds in the Bank of Health. Keep it up, and there will soon be no funds in the treasury. The man who suffers from these dis. orders and neglects them will soon be in the relentless grasp of some fatal disease If he is naturally narrow chested aud shal- low lunged, it will probably be consump tion; if his father or mother died of par- alysis or some nervous trouble, it will probably be nervous exhaustion or prostra- tion, or even insamity ; if there is a taint the family blood, it will be blood or skin disease; if he lives in a new or alow, swampy country, it will be malaria; if he lives a life of exposure, it may be theu- matism. These is just one safe conrse for a man to follow who finds himself out of sorts and suffering from the symptoms described. It is to resort to Dr. Pierce's Golden Medical Discovery. This medic: makes the appetite keen, corrects all di orders of the digestion, renders assi - urifies tion , invigorates the liver, and enriches the blood and builds firm, healthy flesh and nerve tissue. It cures almost all diseases that result from insuf- ficientlor improper nourishment of the brain Sind nerves. Bronchial, throat, au even lung affections, when not too far ad- vanced, readily yield to it. ae ae De rece Dalian aati lien De Witt Strect, N.Y.