The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, November 17, 1895, Page 24

24 THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, NOVEMBEK 17, 1390, A BABY SPEAKS. oodsRealm much better acquainted with those horses than I had time to in one Saturday. They are great, big strong horses—strong enough to tear along over our horrible old ! cobblestone pavements, that pretty near make me feel like crying every time I have to remember how they must hurt the feet of every horse that ever has to go over them. Then the Fire Department horses mustn’t be the least bit too fat, or else the{couldn't run fast enough. They mustn’t be stupid, either, or they could never learn the busi- , learn the business. Those horses know what they have to do just as well as any of the rest of us. They stand there in their stalls in the engine- | house and they look as if it was most too | dull to suit them. When anybody comes near they put up their neses and sniff for sugar, because they are so used to being petted and fed lumps of sugar to reward them for being good and learning to do tricks. I staid beside a pair of horses named Nip and Tuck because I knew they were lence I lie and watch thy face, Sweet mother mine, And think how full thou art of grace, And, o, how kind! And I almost laugh as T hear thee say, I think the baby has noticed to-day.” In Tothee I am “Baby"—thou dost not know How often I've lived—how long ago ‘A chieftan I was, and ouce a king— Though now I appear such a little thing! I've bad my share of earthly joy; Of woman’slove I've made a toy, And once in martyrdom I died— (To atone for my other sins * tried!) But God a seal on my lips has set, And "twill not be lifted til I forget: For God is much wiser than thou or I— 1 must not remember how it feels to diel ith eyes so brown, Dear little mother, When I wanted rebirth 1 sought around THll I found thee, w v tace divine, And then I knew hou wert mine— ruth would be. choosing thee! That thou my mo Sweetheart, I was w e Soday by day Into thy face 1'l1 1ok, until I lose all trace Of other lives, and only know That T am here and love thee so. M. G.T. STEXPEL. 185 Prospect ave., Mount Vernon, N. Y. Sl PHYLLIS AND TOMMY GO THEIR WAYS. There was no chance at all for Phyllis to get in the Fire Department. The Chief said it wouldn’t do, the driver said it wouldn’tdo and mamma herself said there was no use in talking about it. Phbyllis and papa think that girls are just as good as boys, and maybe they are, but wouldn’t Phyllis look silly and be pretty sure to get hurt if she was strapped onto a fire engine and went whirling around the street corners with her long curls and her ribbons and her skirts all flying out like flagsina wind? Anyway, our side won, and Phyllis went | off to one of tho se places they call studios, where some young ladies who paintand make things were having a big time. Phyllis was supposed to be going to see whether she would like to be one of those things they call a bachelor maid and live in a studio all by herself. But all the same I heard one of the young ladies ask mamma for Phyllis, and she said she wanted to borrow her as a decoration for the studio. They put a green velvet dress on Phyllis that came down to her heels, and she had & kind of a guimpe thing with pink flowers on it, and a great big hat with some fine feathers on it. Fine feathers make fine birds, you know, so my sister looked quite decent for once in her life. Ever since that she says she’s going to be an artist all the rest of the time. She says all you have to do is to wear a pretty green and yellow gown that drags on the floor. You don’t have a horrid old kitchen in the house, and when somebody comes t0 see you you just sit down in the middle of a rug on the floor, and you have a little oil-stove; and you make cute little cups of tea, with lemon in it, and nice little toasted crackers that you could eat all day without being made unhungry. Maybe yvou have to do something else besides that and hanging your rugs mostly on the wall to be a really artist, but if you do Phyllis didn’t have sense enough to find out about it. She wants to turn our playhouse into a studio, and I want to turn it into an en- gine-house. We haven't settled about it yet, and I don’t believe the two things would go to- | gether very well. It takesa kitchen to furnish the kind of dinner that we firemen have to have. There was pork and beans, and beefsteak pie, and plenty of good, potatoes and gravy. It wasin a restaurant next door to the engine-house, and if it hadn’t been we couldn’t have had any dinner at all. A fireman cannot go more than a block away from the engine-house when he is on duty unless he goes to a fire. I want to tell you they have things fixed 8o they can just more than spin out of there when there is a fire, though. Upstairs wher- the men sleep they leave their boots standing beside the bed at night and a pair of trousers already pulled down over the bootlegs. The men go to bed in their big warm flannels, and when an alarm sounds they just step out of bed into those boots and gerk the suspenders up over their shoul- ers. Did you ever hear of climbing a greased ‘pole? Those men don’t do that, but they do really slide down a smooth pole instead of going downstairs. It would take too long to do that, and so they just bavea pole in the middle of the room and e a space around it, so the men can just grab hold and slide down as quick as scat—they do, honestly. When the alarmm sounds the chains in frontof the horses just drop down. The horses walk out umi when the men have slid to the bottom of that hole they find the horses standing in their places, waiting to go and just tickled to death. The men have to buckle about two straps, and then they just swing up to their places, and the horses rush out while ‘the men are putting on the coats and fire- man’s hats that are all hanging on the engines and hosecarts waiting for a fire. Another fireman told me that when the Half-million Club went down to getac- quainted with the San Joaquin Valley the people of one of the towns wanted to show off its Fire Department. It was made up of volunteers—nice busi- ness men and bankers and schoolboys and everything. They sounded a mock alarm, and they got the engines and the hosecart and the hook and ladder trucks and every- thing out in just about less than no time. ° The Half-million Club thought more than ever that this isa great California, and they felt very, very sorry for all the ople that have the bad luck to live in ew York and other places. But in the morning when the brass brand came to take the visitors to the train they had to go past a place, right in the middle of the town. where two houses had been burned every bit up in the mid- dle of the night. ““Where was your fine fire company?” « the people asked. - “Ob,” the Mayor or somebody had to answer, *‘the fire company didn’t come - out. You see it’s pretty hard to get them * outin the night, sometimes,” Well, that 1sn’t the kind of firemen we are up here in the City. - It doesn’t’ make any difference what -. time it is by the clock, nor what kind of ~weather there is out of doors when a fire .alafm sounds. The horses are just as quick and koow just as well what is the matter and what they have to do as the - fi.~men could. I would like to get ever so the ones that were going to take me out if | there was a fire. | After a while, just after I had | of looking at all’ the harness an and at the tricks that firemen have in- | vented to save time, an alarm sounded. | Nip and Tuck walked over those chains | almost before they touched the fioor, and | T started to climb up on the seat beside the driver, where they said I could ride. Before I had hardly started to get up something happened that I didn’t quite ot tired back, both together, and threw it ke- whack against the tree. You see, they were so scart they forgot what was the matter and thought they just had to smash that looking-glass. It was a terrible time and I was so scart myself that I never wanted to see another fire. The fire in town wasn’t a bit like that. There was a restaurant on the ground floor of the building that was burning, but the eople didn’t even get up from the tables. Nobody did a thing but the firemen, and | they went to work at it just asif it was their kind of a day’s work. They worked fast, but they knew just vrhadc to do, and they didn’t get a bit ex- cited. The roof was all blazing, but the men ran all over it just as if it was cold. Wherever a blaze came and stuck out its tongue at them they would turn a stream of water and make it hide its head. I thought the fire was very naughty and obstinate, though, for the minute a fire- man’s back was turned it would jump up again, saucy as ever. Sometimes the tongues would be stick- ing out and waggling in a dozen places at once, but the men didn’t get nervous and they didn’t go away. - One man in a long coat stood where the roof must have been hottest and gave orders to the others. He looked as big as a giant standing up there, and when I saw him standing there as cool as a cucumber in_the middle of all that fire, and just quietly telling those men how to do the very best thing to beat things | that fire I couldn’t see why he wasn’t just as good a hero as any general that ever told his soldiers how to kill enough people to win a battle. Can you? The firemen put that fire out pretty soon, just as the people seemed to know the{‘ would. The crowd scattered, we rolled up our hose, the cars began to run, and we came see, and we were whirling along the street | home to our engine-house again. with black smoke pouring out of our Now whenever Nip and Tuck come THE AMERICAN AR ASSOCIATION OF PARIS BY FLORENCE BLANCHARD. Among the noteworthy works exhibited by Americans at the Champs Elysees Salon this year was one catalogued “Springtime and Love,” by A. A. Anderson of New York. To him the American Art Associa- tion owes its existence. To him belongs all the glory for the good it has done and the help it has given to the many Ameri- can boys, strangers in a strange land. He had been a student himself and knew what it was to be lonesome and homesick in a foreign country. He knew how such feel- ings unfitted one for work. One day in his hunt for little “‘bits’’ of nature, in look- ing over an old wall, he saw a long nar- row building, whose entire floor was be- low the level of the street. Inquiry proved that it had once been a private schoolhouse abandoned for want of roez. Through his personal efforts and tbose of his friends whom he had interestec. in the project, the place was entirely restored and opened to the students, May 24, 1890. Many art clubs had been formed before, _but in the competition between noise znd art the muse of noise was always winner and little artistic benefit had been derived. Cultivation stopped with the outward man. The inner had no show. - In the shadow of the wall lies a little shoemaker's shop, with just room enough for himself, his shoes and the visitor's chair. He always has neatly mended sec- ond-hand shoes for sale. SEENs p The entrance to the building is not im- i TOMMY BECOMES A FIREMAN AND PHYLLIS TURNS ARTIST. engine, and everybody was scampering to get out of the way. I found I was fas- tened in my place by a strap that I was mad at being fixed asif I was a baby in its carriage. Then I got sitting close beside me, and I saw that he was fastened in his place by two wide stout straps. If he hadn’t been Nip and Tuck would have pulled him down from there sure pop. They just took the bits in" their teetl: that’s what somebody “said anyway—and they put down their heads and just pulled for dear life. It was a good thing we had a stout pair of lines, and I don’t know how on to their places along the sides of the trucks that came along after us. I forgot to tell you that the first thing that went out of the engine-house was the chemical engine. Ita s the first, and if it isn’ta very awfully big fire the chemical engine most always puts it out all by itself. They have some sort of stuff—alkali, I believe it in the tank of the engine. and they turn a faucet when the alarm sounds that turns something else into the tank that sets the stuff to fizzing. They can squirt that fizzy stuif right onto a fire and it puts it right out. They have a pump to make it go, a pumpright on the engine. And they have a special kind of hose lined with some- thing lige tar, so that strong stuff can’t eat holes in it. The chemical engine hasn’t been in- vented very many years. But you see firemen have so much time to sit around the engine-house and do nothing that they go on inventing things all the time. Then the chiefs of the fire departments of different cities in the world go around and visit each other sometimes, and that’s the way they all find out all the new tricks, A little while ago a very polite gentieman from Paris came to visit us, and - our chief tried to be just as polite as his company, and showed the Frenchman some tricks that I suppose the Paris Fire Department has learned to do by this time. The fire that we went to was in China- town. 1t was in the top of a tall building that had the windows full of Chinese lanterns and paper signs to keep away all | sorts of trouble, and especially fire. That shows how much good it does to believe in things that are not so. The fire reached out of the windows and grabbed hold of the paper things that were put there to scare it away, and it had just lots of fun burning them up. The fire looked fine from the street, and the horses stood as still as posts without being hitched. They watched the fire as stood on the sidewalks and in the street and watched it. too. The streetcars couldn’t pass the fire and so everybody had to wait and watch the fire, which seemed to make them laugh and joke a good deal. Once I saw a house on fire in the coun- try. There wasn’t any_ fire department there, and o all the neighbors came run- ning like mad, and the women cried and and got red in the face. Everybody rushed in and out of the house carrying out fur- niture and smashing it outside. ‘Two big, strong men brought out a large mirror and carried it quite a ways to where there was a tree. qfnen they pulled reached around my waist, and at first | a chance to look at the driver, who was | in the world the firemen managed to hold | much as they could and crowds of people | wrang their hands, und the men shouted | : lin from their daily exercise they always stop for a drink. But when they came in from that fire they knew they were too warm to take a drink | of water without getting sick, and they just walked straight by with their heads hanging down as if they were most tired to death. Do you know any boys that would be apt to show as much sense as that? I rather think, on the whole, that I like the fire business better than anything else | I have tried. | If I could be sure of having three or four fires to put out every single day I think I should go into the department, even if Phyllis had to stay out forever. | —— THE DONALD SERIES. TOR TINY BOYS. XO. I1I. Mamma and papa both saw Donald slyly put three sticks of gum into his rosy mouth, yet, when papa went to say good- night to his little son, Donald was trying to get thatvery same gum off the top of his curly head! Iwonder how it got there! The poor little boy was in terrible trouble, mixing golden curls and gum, worse and worse, in a dreadful snarl. “Get the scis- sors quick, papa.” But papa said, “Oh, no; that would never do. It is not the fault of the curls that the gum is there.” Then papa sat down beside the little bed and picked out as much gum frqm among the tumbled hairas he could, while Donald squirmed and twisted and said “ouch” and “00” and all the other baby words which mean It hurts,” and then he con- fessed that his mouth got tired, so he tried to stick the gum to the head of his crib— but the naughty stuff fell down and stuck to his head instead. The next morning when mamma tried to brush the golden curls she found out i‘usz what had hapbpened and the little fel- low had to go to the bathroom and have his head well washed with lots of soap and water, which he did not like one bit. Moral—Little boys, don’t chew gum. Goethe-Schiller Prizes. Spread out on tables ina large room on the first floor at 120 Sutter street is a miscellaneous assortment of fancy goods, knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, giving one the impression that it is the starter of a variety-store. These articles and goods seem to have no owners, at least no one has laid claim to them. The stuff has been left over from the Goethe-Schiller festival, and in the lot are many things of considerable value. In the fair booths many tickets were sold for chances to win these things, and the hotders of the tickets have never called for the articles they won. The rooms will be kept open a few days longer in order that the hold- ers of winning tickets may get their prizes, All that are unclaimed will be sold by the as- sociation, - Park Music To-Day. The following choice programme has been prepared for to-day’s open-alr concert at Gold- en Gate Park: ; March, “Aurora”. Overture, “Templs Selection, “Madame Favart" he ballet music in “Wiiliam Teil” sescripiive fantasia, “In a C Overuure, . Latann ler Bela Offenbach -Rossini Allegro, quartet and “Tramway Gfloy'?. .. posing. You see only a small, low wooden door numbered 131. It is only from the opposite side of the street that you can see a portion of the roofs, and here and there a few French chimney pots. In front of the door is the concierge’s lodge. The concierge is a corpulent jack-at- all-trades, who by right of his position and the license of freedom granted him has become a veritable despot. Within all is plain and substantial. The picture gallerv is of good size and hasa glass roof with sliding curtains. The walls are covered with a sober cloth which shows off the pictures displayed to the best advantage. Concours for prizes are held here monthly. These are friendly, but exciting times. = The works exhibited, whether haintings or pieces of sculpture, are num- {)ereu and voted upon by ballot. The vote is taken upon the five best. The money for the prizes is obtained by voluntary con- tributions. The prize pictures become the property of the association and are perma- nently hung in the parior. e ‘This parlor is quite filled with the art decorations of the students. He who wishes to bave a hand in the decorations must apply to the art committee for “spaces.”” In this room are held the im- promptu concerts, lectures and receptions. The library and reading-room are well fitted up with a_good selection of works upon art, periodicals, magazinesand comic vapers. Itisa low, cozy place, warm in winter, and makes a good loanging place in dark weather. _ The restaurant is still making a.history. First it was run on co-operative plans. The fellows were to pay so much per meal and guarantee to come so many days a week. ‘The cook was hired and the system began. It didn’t work. Some came, many did not. There was nothing to be relied upon. After a three months’ trial of the above system a restaurateur was {:ut in charge. Rooms, kitchen, stove and light were his free of charge, and he agreed to furnish the best fcod for the smallest possible amount of cash. All went merrily during the win- ter. By the time it closed in June the vortions had dwindled into microscopic atoms. ‘When it opened again in November a woman was at the helm. She did her own cooking, which was good. The concierge and his wife were waiters. But she did not stay long, and now for some time past the concierge and his wife haye been doing the honors and making the most profit. The food is indifferently cooked and more indifferently served. The gardeén is quite the pleasantest part of it all. Tt runs some 150 feet parallel with the Boulevard Montparnasse. A few old trees are scattered about and plenty of vines and bushes run riot near the walls. _The expenses are paid for by subscrip- tion, outside of the sums paid in fees. The house and grounds cost 7000 francs ($1400) a year. The running expenses per month amount to 1000 francs ($200). The income of the club is 3000 francs ($600) a year. These few tigures tell their own story. Each studgent pays $4 a year for privi- leges of heat, lights and paper for letter writing, which are worth in cold money exactly $20. Other professions than the artistic are welcomed. They help to rub off the sharp edges of narrowness and egotism. The entertainments at the club are com- paratively few, socially speaking, but quite enough for the edification of the members. %evenl times during the win- | convent. artist one dance equals about six weeks of other sorts of gayety. During the weeks following he is thoroughly absorbed in matching the colors on the tip of the nose or the chin of his figure subject. A man can’t cultivate society and work, especially the society of American colony in Paris. There are only a few _months in which to work for the Salon if he would exhibit each year, and when you hear of a young artist who %lunges deep into social life you may be absolutely sure that his bump of genius and application is very small. He will probably never reach the stage where he can even creep with assur- ance. He will always be an infant in art. The whole tendency of the club is toward great good. It generates a common feel- ing of goqd-fello\vshig. It gives a feeling of American individuality in a man’s work and so strengthens our growing school of art. But its chief advantage lies 1u the fact that it gives the boys a place for the evening, where they have a night to sit and read and chat of the last bit of home news or the latest political digression or the last novel. The new boys feel at home. It is their sitting-room. Their own tongue is spoken. Again, the men whose allow- ance is small rarely have studios in whaich to entertain their friends. They must meet them at the club. The wealthy boys generally have studios of their own and servants of their own tocook their favorite dish of ducks and peas. A choice circle of friends make these studios art salons in a small way. * k k k Kk THE GIRLS' ART CLUB. Of all the types of American girls abroad, the art student is the most enjoyable one to meet. Her capacity may be very lim- ited. She may lack the genius or talent necessary to paint nature, and so spend her days painting vpansies and buttercups and chrysanthemums, or now and then a basket of fruit. At the same time, what- ever her daubs may be, she works con- scientiously, spurred on by the dream that she may win fame, if not immortality. The homeof the Girls' Art Clubis on the Rue Chevreuse, just around the corner from tne bien’s Ciub. The men call it the “Nunnery.” I believe it used to bean old Tt is a large triangular building, enclosing in the reara sunny garden which speaks to you of things of the past. Its situation is good. The Luxembourg, with its treasures, is only three blocks away. The Ecole des Beaux Arts isnear at hand : 80, too, are the studios of Bouguerean, Laurens and Whistler, and the schools of Julian, Collarossi and Montparnasse. It is not well furnished, but fairly com- fortable. One salonis decorated inred and is called the ‘‘red room.” Here tea is served on Mondays, the club’s *‘at home” day, and all the news of the student world is discussed. I have a pleasant little re- membrance connected with_this tea-room. It was the day of my first introduction to the club. I entered this room first and my attention was instantly attracted to the small open box cover which stood on the mantel. It was filled with chewing- gum. A little notice said, “Take one; five centimes” (one cent). I couldn’t resist. The low French windows open upon a broad veranda. In the early summer the tea-table is placed there and the scent of the roses adds flavor to your tea. The library and reading-room are com- bined in one, and a_very pleasant room it is. The number of the books is few, but well chosen. The long table is filled with magazines and newspapers. The bulletin board is always an interesting study. There are notices of art sales and church meetings and dressmakers and sales of all sorts of domestic and artistic furnistings, and a ~urious list of things lost and found. The bedrooms are very plain. It is left for the taste and purse of the occupant to make them homelike and attractive. Rugs and draperies, books and old cabinets and sketches must be added to make them heart rests. In the winter a fire must crackle in the grate. The dining-room and restaurant are pleasant. 11 the food 1s well cooked and well servi nd table d’hote dinner may be had for 35 cents. Tae prices a la carte are very moderate. The. cost of a room ranges from $5 to $14 a month. One is not able to live here for a mere song as is gen- erally believed in America. The lowest cost for a decently comfortable room and board is $8 per week. Then come extras in the way of lights and fires. The former will cost you 1 franc a week if used economically. As for fires—well, wood is expensive 1 Paris, and 50 cents a day spent on wood on a cold day will not keep the cold shivers from running down your back, though it may scorch your face if vou get close enough to it. Coalischeaper, but 50 cents a day spent on that material will not keep one healthfully warm. The draughts of wind and air in Parisian houses, even the newest and best built ones, are simply dreadful. Apart from being good marrow-searches they are a short cut for an early grave. No girl who values her life and useful- ness will lightly treat the question of fires. Your laundry Kill will average about 2 francs a week. You may have one plunge at.one of the public bathhouses for 25 cents. There are girls who make their expenses less by dint of much planning and many wakeful hours spentin trying to make two and two make five, but ihey are simply suffering irom lack of food, or warm clothing, or a comfortable room. Their social pleasures are such as you will find among any collection of bright, intelligent girls. During the winter afew dances are given, to which the men are invited. The latter also have the pleasure of calling there on Sunday evenings. Ex- hibitions of work are given in. the winter. Last February eighty pictures were sold at one of these exhibitions. For those who desire a religious home there is an Eng- lish Episcopal church only a few steps away at the rear of the club. The girls who live at the Art Club enjoy many social privileges from the mere fact that they reside at 4 Rue de Chevreuse, but with them as with the men, the girl who would win fame must eschew social gayety. Art is not the ounly profession represented here. Among the thirty-seven -boarders there are some who come to study literature, others music and still others French. * k k k k OTHER STUDIO HOMES. Many girls prefer to live independently in their own apartments, clubbing to- gether, or board in private families. Each system has its own aavantages. It all de- pends upon the individual taste. Just now all the painting colony, male or female, is busy putting its studios to rights. To reach some of these homes it is often necessary to climb five or six long flights of stairs. If you are a fre- quent visitor your respect for the occupant increases with each climb. 2 The view from the window is alwaysa sky-scrape, with chimney gots for a fore- ground. Inone corner, hidden away by ascreen or drapery, is the tiny kitchen corner where coifee and tea and eggs are boiled. In another corner is the sleeping- room, a comfortable divan with a Persian drapery thrown over it when money is flusfi.otherniseachyup chintz, which is never pretty in Paris. Sometimes a little sheif rurs out from theé eaves and a little 15-franc bed is placed upon it. A ladder is the hallway. Occasionally a hammock is hung up, but that is never a safe bed in which to turn. A litter of books, draperies and painting implements act as accessories. Heads, arms, legs and every species of nude and other humanity pertaining to a studio adorn the walls and corners. Competing with them for your admiration are pictures old and new, unfinished sketches and ter the men don their best bib and tucker, | curious old frames. On the easels are invite their lady friends and dance. To the | palettes and paints-and brushes. On the small brackets are bottles of turpentine and chemicals. * x k k k FIVE O0'CLOCK TEA. Within the past few years “afternoon tea” has become quite thé thing among the studio-dwellers. With some it is sim- ply a means to an end—to become popu- lar. These artists have a regular reception day, and play the host. With the greater number it is a pausing time and a cozy chat witn any friends who may arop in. If you can’t stop your work at the time vour friends will make you a cup of tea. In a gathering of men alone *‘bocks and pipes” are the usual refreshments, served Wwith a piquant sauce of jests and stories. * k k k k A STUDENTS' - RESTAURANT. Another interesting phase of Bohemia is the restaurant in which the student eats and drinks. There are plenty of them where the student may dine ‘“wisely and well,”” all successors to Pere Tim. The ap- petites here are always good, whatever the bill of fare. These restaurants differ quite materially | from that of the ordinary diner-out. To begin with, they have dingy walls. Some- times these walls are decarated by the stu- dents who frequent the place. Blues and purples usually ‘abound. They are not quiet places. Plenty of noise and loud laughter, boisterous but harmless, accom- panies the clatter of dishes, and tobacco smoke rolls up in clouds. No attention is paid to the refinements of life, large or small, here. * k k k k DARBLY AND HIS BEANS. The restaurant which interests me most in Paris is Darbly’s, on the Rue de la Gaite, just a few doors from the little theater so well known in the artist world. Everybody knows Darbly’s beans. They | are not ‘‘Boston-baked beans.”” Oh, no; but they are weli-cooked, well-seasoned haricots blancs. They can always be founa on Saturday nights with® unceasing regu- larity. These ienns have made Darbly famous. There are other articles of food well worth eating at rates which make your add:tion modest. You must pay extra for your tablecloth. Being a cremerie, it is painted white. In the windows are a few plants and a meager display of eggs, custard and pickles. The mb{’es are marble-topped, the chairs cane- bottomed, the floor spread with sawdust. The room is long and narrow. It will accommodate about forty. In the corner at your left asyou enter is madame’s throne behind the desk where she sits in state and collects the addition. Mme. Darbly is a typical French shop- woman—dark, fat and forty.: Darbly him- self promenades up ana down the aisle, bowing and smiling to see that all are satisfied. He is the image of Cleveland, though not quite so fat as Grover. Singly he is cailed “Grover’”” by the boys. In his con- jugal relations they call him and Madame “Darby and Joan.” In the rear of the room, through an open doorway, you see the kitchen and the numerous relatives who assist in preparing the food. Darbly has a host of relatives. The hungry clientele which gathers here is made up of bonnes, grisettes, dress- makers, actresses, models, students, old men with curious coiffures and a sprink- ling of all professions. Occasionally some famons man, revisiting Paris, dropsin to recall old memories. * * X k % AN ARTIST AND HIS MODEL. I have left the most interesting charac- ter till the last. I met him the night of my first visit at Darbly’s. His name is Jean Jacques Gautier and he comes from Brittany. He had been making a crayon portrait of Darbly’s niece for which the latter had agreed to pay him 8 francs. It was made from a small photograph badly preserved. Gautier had never seen the niece. She had been in her grave many years. . Un- fortunately, the night before, Darbly had been moved to show the portrait to the American boys in the crowd and to ask their opinion. There was, as they said, but one word with which to describe it- “pum!’ It was absolutely flat, without form or substance. Had they known who the artist was they would have kept quiet. Darbly refused to take the portrait and while the poor man passed from one table to the other begging with tears in his eyes for their approval and his rights my friend told me his story. ) His father before him had beena painter in a small way of local fame, though his landscapes were so rarely bought that he had no earthly possessions with which to endow his son at his death beyond an old and much-worn pair of corduroy trousers and a jacket. 3 = The son had come to Paris from Brittany when a lad of sixteen. His earthly posses- sions consisted of the suit of clothés which he had on and the above-mentioned in- heritance. To these his uncle, the village | Mayer, had added a cut-away coat, which | increasing avoirdupois had forced him to. | abandon. It was this uncle, the Mayor, who sent | Gautier to Paris on an allowance of 200 | francs a year. He entered the Beaux Arts. Througi friends of his uncle he was able | to add materially to his slender income. | __But in the days of his prosperity be fell. | He was now about twenty and rapidly get- ting on in his studies. He went to Col- | larossi’s for the night class and there met | Eugenie, Eugenie was a model renowned for her extreme ugliness and her temper, At times she would be gentle as a lamh. Again she was fierce as a tiger. When Gautier first knew her he saw only- her lamb-like moments. He wanted a private model. In an evil moment he determined to take Eugenie 1nto his little domain to attend his menage | as well as to fill his model-stand. Many | other artists have such an evil moment. | Eugenie’s last love had just left Paris for Algeria for military service and she was | lonesome. Jean presented himself at the | right moment. | . She brought with her a fortune of 100 | francs, and so long as this sum lasted all | went well. |" She was his model for all sorts of char- | acters—Venuses, Minervas and Madonnas, | She posed for numberless other characters | with and without clothes. | , Gautier rarely appeared at the Beaux | Arts now. Off and on he would be seen | foran hour orso. In afew months’ time ihugeme preferred cafes to posing. Her | 'small savings soon fled, and with them her | good temper. His uncle, the Mayor, heard | of Gautier’s delinquencies and stopped his atlowance. _His purse was low and nis | rent du. ant began speedil | therr little household. ; Fgaunc They were forced to take to pawning. | Then Bugenie took to drinking and swal- { lowed his hard-earned model throne in a few days. At the end of a month the con- tents of their little studio had disappeared. Love’s dream was dispelled. When he awakened his ability to do good work was | gone. Engenie left him for fairer and | more beautiful fields. He himself became | an absinthe fiend. He has never been able to get on his feet again, neither has | he ever become reconciled to his uncle and family. Twenty years have drifted | by, in which he has lived from hand to mouth. Now he sleepsin a little garret on the Rue de Seine, which he rents for the sum. of 60 francs a year. He does anything he can get to do.” It is many years since he has been able to sell any work at Father Monaco’s on the Rue Monsieur le-Prince, In his prosperous days he made many an extra franc at this little pioture store. Darbly finally paid him 3 francs for the portrait of his deceased niece. I wasin there last night to dinner and ne brought in the portrait of another relative of Dar- bly, for which he received the muniticent sum of one franc. FLORENCE BLANCHARD. 25 Avenue Wagram, Paris, Oct. 18, 1895. Mrs. Cleveland has a rarely beautiful hand, not very small, but admirably shaped, which is said to be a sure indica- tion of the artistic temperament. NEW TO-DAY—DRY GOODS. W Dress Goods Market-street Store Only. Other Goods at Both Stores. 107-109 POST STREET. 1220-1222-1224 HARKET STREET KOHLBERG, STRAUSS & FROHMAN. NOVEMBER SELLIN No end to Bargains here this week. Save on your holiday needs. Save on your Children’s Scheol Dresses. Save on your own Silk Waist. - See the new things that came last week. It pays to watch our newspaper anmouncements—better this week than ever. DRESS GOODS. Three specials to represent a hun= dred others. Market-street store only for these. NEW FRENCH PLAIDS, yard wide, plaids of the Scotch clans, ‘and many new patterns and color effects; 25 pleces offered at.. = “~ 25° Yard NOVELTY BOUCLES AND NIGGER- HEADS, 37 inches wide, the latest colorings, such as golden brown, mousse, tobac, old blue. grenat, etc., all wool, very stylish; pleces of- fered at. 45° Yard SILK-FINISHED HENRIETTAS, 38 inches wide, in all the evening shades, mo dark colors of 50 pleces a: C a very special offerin 15 & ¥ Y SILKS. That Black Silk Dress or Waist or Skirt, you’ll buy them here this week. Such prices as these at both stores. STRIPED TAFFETA SILK, 22 Inches wide, fancy siripes, in cardinal, navy, green, brown and black only: regular 8L &1 15, 0nlY..eeenennene s 85° Yard FIGURED CHANGEABLE TAFFETA, 25 inches wide, dainty patterns for Wasts, six handsome two-toned color effects; bought to sell at $1 50, only.. PLAID TAFFETA SILK, 22 inches ‘wide, many of the clan colors, fnclud- ing the Royal Stewart, McLeod, Mc- Kenzie, etc.; nothing more stylish, nothing cheaper than those at... BLACK FIGURED TAFFETAS AND TNDIAS, 20 to 24 inches wide, beauti- ful fancy silks that sold from’ 75¢ (o $1 25, marked t0 close OUL f.......... sl BLACK GROS DE LONDRES, 22 inches de, all silk, very heavy, too good for ning, but cheap enough to line with Al the price. NOVELTIES. Things just received—nowhere else in town yet—but that makes no price difference. EMPIRE FANS, latest Parisian novelty, very small sticks of decorated wood or 1.00 bone, spangled gauze, hand-painted ) 1— “Empire” designs, pink, blue, white, _To cream and black. Rreisesl T BROAD ELASTIC BELTS, 4 to 5 inohes (3] .00 wide, elaborate silver and oxydized ) L—~ buckles, the very newest thing in belt- _To 2.50. NOVELTY VEILINGS: fust opened 50 pleces brand new meshes, including 2'0 the stylish ring dot with hole in center g and the very open coarse-thread dia- _TO mond mesh..... e svss, SRBO TRILBY COLLARS, Gauffre silks, lace insertions; all the popular evening shades....... DRAPERIES. fancy work. DRAPERY NETS, 50 inches wide, the coarse-mesh fish-net effect, for win- dow nnu’flngs. 25c, 30¢, 35c¢, 40¢, 50c, 60c and 75¢ yard. .. 22 CHINESE CREPE, 27 inches wide, the popular cotion draj in curious scroll pattern: (Cotton ball fri ings to match 5¢ yard.) A NEW TINSEL DRAPERY, 36 inches wide, soft finish, easy to e, & Cor-" - rect imitation of the high-priced silk (st tassel Finges to mareh 12740 yard)) . FANCY SCRIMS FOR TOILET SETS, 18 inches wide, cream ground with open-work borders, and’ also with striped borders resembling ribbons. New and Attractive Art Materials for home decoration and holiday »