Joined in the hurly-burly of the mighty
WN
a ———————————————— Art Le te
a,
Dewsalic
Bellefonte, Pa., Dec. 8, 1893.
—
—_
pa———
MY SCHOOLMA’AM.
Her face was dimpled, round and fair,
Her eyes were brown and mild,
And, when I saw her teaching there,
I longed to be a child,
But, when a youngste. failed to mind
And thoroughly was sparked,
That youthful days were far behind
My lucky stars I thanked.
She set. me in a lofty place,
And handed me a book,
Behind whose pages at her face
I ventured oft to look,
And, as her pupils spelled or read,
I took a passing part,
Permitting them to leave off head
Tne while L.left off heart,
Now, I'm a candidate, I feel
A carious elation,
A wondering 'twixt woe and weal
O’er my examination.
On passing it my heart is set,
And haraly can I wait
Till she and I together get
A joint certificate.
—R. L. Hendrick.
PINKS AND WHITE VIOLETS.
The prima-donna was nervous, and
little wonder that she should be, To:
night she was to appear for the first
time before an audience ot her own
countrymen. She had that same donbt
of herself, that same d esire to run
away and hide, that same dread of the
rows and rows of faces and glaring
opera-glasses, that she had felt two
years before in Paris.
Yet she knew hew it wonld be. After
those first few steps before the dazzling
foot lights, after that first half-hearted
burst of welcoming applause, she
would lisien to her own voice as if it
belonged to someone else,’ until sud-
dealy her heart would cease its fright-
ened beating, and she would soar out
on her.own singing with a wild exhil:
aration, a sense of freedom and of
power—the greatest joy that the mor-
tal singer feels.
And she would win them, win them
80 that when she came before the cur
tain they would be her friends; her
dear, dear friends. "What an intoxi-
cating delight it brings—the clappirg
of a thousand hands, the burrying of
the ushers down the aisles with great
bouquets and wreaths of costly flowers,
tributes paid a queen; for they were
not only her friends, were they not ber
gubjects ? would she not move them
all by one clear, liquid note? The
prima-donna knew all this, and vet she
was nervous, and her hand trembled a
little as she clasped the jeweled brace
let on her slender, blue-veined wrist;
her hair was:loose and the coiffour was
weaving in and out amongst the golden
strands, a string of pearls, She smiled
slightly at her reflection in the
| the townsfolk on
| bad said nothing, and at last stopped
she had only worn those flowers! she
thought, but then she did nut know—
at least not until she had found that
leiter, long, long afterwards, among
her father’s papers. They had grown
up together, althongh be was much
older—five years oller—the owner ot
the curling hair and honest, manly
hand.
The prima-donna had recalled the
whole story, the whole scene, this af
ternoon, and the square faded out of
ber sight. Oace more she was in that
town amongst the Berkshire hills. She
was walking home with her silent,
morose father, the organist. They had
come from a rehearsal in the great
‘memorial church, and, as they passed
their way beneath
the elms, although she was sad and
troubled, she nodded and smiled as
they greeted her in kindly fashion, but
her father did not lock up. People do
not like a disappointed man, and he
was one. Some said he had written
an unsuccessful opera once, and then
again, he drank. :
He was a good, 2 brilliant organist,
and the summer visitors wonld flock to |
the graystoue church to hear the
costly organ and thesinging of that tall
slender girl in white ; ber voice, to
cultured ears, meant promise of great
things, how great they did not
know.
She remembered the day that Gerald
was to come home ; somecne had told
her, otherwise she would not have
kuown, and yet she had leit as if her
heart would break. Why had hestop
ped writing to ber so suddenly, and
why did he not avswer the two letters
that she had sent him ? The first levier
with a plavful reproach in it and piti-
ful little excuses for his neglect; she
“supposed he was eo busy he bad not
time perhaps.” Then a letter that had
a sob in it and a little blister where a
tear had closed a sentence. She would
not believe the things her father said
of Gerald, and aiter he had opened his
box at the post office—one ot those
boxes that lock up with a snap and
need a key to open them—she wound
ask if there was anything for her, and
when she received the graff, curt
answer, “What do yoa expect?’ she
asking, She would never forget the
last Sunday she spent at Carrington,
never.
Ae she had opened the gate at the
end of the ili kept path that led up to
the dingy little house in which they
lived, she noticed on the railing of the
the picket fence a fresh-plucked bunch
ot piaks and white violets, not very
costly or very artistic in effect perhaps,
but they were her tavoriie flowers ;
one of the scholars in the Sabbath
school had placed them there she
thought, so she picked them up and
walked with her silent father towards
glass.
The man
was testing
ing in the musie-toom.
with the kettle-drums
his pitch and stopping the vib-
rations of the dram-heads with his
‘fingers. The horns and vicling were
striking up litle unfinished rans and
trills, Then the ropes creaked slight:
ly on the bridge in the scene loft, The
prima-donna smiled and said that it
was like a wedding or an execution.
All day long she bad been thinking
of hersell ; not as prima-donnas gener-
ally do, but of herself asshe had been,
as she might have been. It was all so
strange. [Eight years ago she wus a
shy little girl of seventeen in a half
village town that straggled along the
Housatonic. How well she remem
bered it. The great elms that hung
and drooped over the sidewalks, the
great covered wooden bridge over the
river—she remembered how it rambled
like thunder, when the heavy teams
from the quarry crossed it. She long-
ed so much to see it all again.
When the prima donna was in a re-
flective mood she always did one
thing. She would open her little trav-
eling desk anditake out a photograph
and a well-worn, much-read letter.
To-day, after her short morning re-
hearsal at the empty opera house, she
had returned to her apartments at the
great white hotel fronting the square,
and opened the desk with a tiny silver:
key.
She koew that letter line for line,
and word for ward, and how well she
knew that badly printed photograph !
She placed them both on the window-
sill and gazed out .ofithe window.
There is no epotin New York that
reminds one s0 much of Paris, or of the
other continent at least, as this same
square she gaged upon.
[t was a beautiful day, with a crisp
freshness in the air, and yet quite
warm. In the park opposite, with its
network of asphalt walks wandering
through the still green turf, the spar-
rows twittered cheerfully in the bare
itrees. Some children were playing
‘merrily about the empty fountain
‘basin, and a gray-eoated policeman
was talking to a Freneh nurse maid,
with long streamers of ribbon hanging
from her cap. Brilliant equipages
flashed up and down the avenue or
business thoroughfare, where
crossed at the corner.
The prima.donna noticed all thie,
-and more too; she noticed that every-
body seemed to be in a hurry, almost
on the point of runing ; that the cab-
bies, lined up along the curb, talked
good-naturedly together, and she could
just seethe edge ot a large poster, an
nouncing that she was to appear that
night as Lucia. 7 :
Eight years ago she had left that lit-
tle town on the Housatonic with her
father, to study music under the beat
masters of Europe. Eight years ago!
‘What an eventful stretch of time, and
yet how short it seemed! Her
father was dead, had drank him.
self to death. Tle never cared for her;
she knew that well enough now. He
had cared only for her voice and what
it could bring him—money.
She picked up the letter and the
they
i
Down below, the or=hestra was tun- | avd her heart was beating just as fast.
‘the church. The chimes were ringing,
,Stie was to sing that morning, and the
‘rich city people from the hotels at
Bioneridge aud South Edgemont and
the many country places round about
were driving into town in T carts with
jangling chains and bright yellow
buckboards. The gray-stone church,
the gift of a rich widow to her hus
band’s memory—she had married
again was near neighbor to a staid
wizite meeting-house with green blinds
and a badly-shingled, uncertain-look:
ing steeple surmounted by a rusty,
{ park ot its size in the country.
—soshe went down the stairway to the
stage.
As she stood in “the tormentors,”
the first entrance, she could hear the
ushers letting down the seats, and, as
the cortain swayed gently, rushes of
heated air swept back into the wing,
From the open part of the housea con-
versation and now and thén a laugh
was wafted in as the curtain swayed.
The stage carpenters were noislessly
setting the droop scene.
The prima-donna gathered her
chuddah about ler bare white shoul.
ders and approached the blackened
peep-hole, At first she could not see
clearly, and looked again. Then she
turned very pale, her eyes looked
strange, and her lips were white and
trembled nervously.
“Could you send for a messenger ?”
she said, “and quickly, please ; there's
something I've forgotten.” Her man-
ager looked anxious, but she answered
him, with a nervous, excited laugh,
that “nothing was the matter, only
some flowers she had forgotten.”
When the messenger returned” he
bronght back, in brown tissue paper, a
bunch of pinks and white violets,
The curtain rose and the opera be:
gan. She was dimly conscious of two
things, the waving of the leader's baton
and a tall firure, with folded arms,
standing back in the shadow in the
gay box on the stage tier. People
wondered why Lucia should wear a
bunch of violets and pinks.
She had won them. They raid she
sang with soul and feeling. She came
before the curtain, leading the tenor by
the hand, amidst the braves and the
wild applause. There was a glance
exchanged between the tall figure in
the box and the lady with the ‘pink
and violets, a single glance, but it
meant a flood of happiness.
When the prima-donna had wedded
the well to do and rising young lawyer,
Gerald Wilton, people wondered still
more, and then forgot about it. Mra.
Wilton, in the garden of her beautiful
summer home, along the Housatonic’s
banks, cultivates white violets, These
and the pinks in the terrace above are
etill her favorite flowers.—James
Barnes.
Richmond.
It may be that nativity in Virginia
and many vears of residence in Rich-
mond have inclined the mind of the
writer to idealize the city’s lovleiness,
vet he koows no city in the United
Sia es more beautitul. Itis not that
the houses generally are handsome, but
there are sections of the city where the
yards, filled with wrees, look like bow
ers, and the public equares are among
the most teantitul in the country.
“The Capitol Square,” with its leaty
slopes, its fine old Capitol lifting itself
on its eminence with the simple grand-
eur ot an cold temple, and with its
broad wa'k, with the splendid Wash-
ington Moonment at one end, and the
impressive old “Governor's Mansion”
at the other, is perhaps the prettiest
Iv is
certainly so to a Virginian, for many
proud or tender associations cling about
the piace. For a huodred years and
more the city hae been associated with
all that Virginians are proud of. In
old St. John’s Church assembled the
great Virginia convention which pre-
pared for the public defence, and led
the way to tie independence of the
creaky arrow tor a weather vane; the
prima donna remembered how she had
wished she was to sing in there.
Asshe crossed the dusty street she
thought sbe canght a glimpse of
Gerald standing in the arched doorway
ot the massive gray-stone church, Just
then the father said, “Xenia'’-- her
name was Xenia—“throw away those
flowers, they do not match your dress,”
and she had dropped them in the
road. :
Then came the service, that never to
be forgotten service. As her clear
young voice rose and floated out past
the arches, people had held their
breath in wonder as if an angel was
singing, and vet some said that her
voice had tears in all its liquid notes.
As for herself, she had forgotten ev-
erything, the church, the golden, rosy
light that streamed through the great
wheel window in the apse. even the
great organ behind ber back ; she
saw nothing but a figure with its arms
folded and head bowed down. It was
Gerald, and as she finished he turned ;
she could never forget the expression
on his face. There was a flutter,
almost like a sigh, that passed over the
congregation as she sank to her seat
behind the screening choir curtains
and burst into silent weeping. Her
father’s reflection in the glass betore
him seemed to show triumph in its
every line as he struck the grand final
«chords.
‘A tall, broad-shouldered man with
long straight hair. tinged with iron
gray, picked up his hat and left the
charch,
That night Gerald left for the distant
city, and the tall man with the long
bairdined at the dingy little cottage
behind the picket fence. Two days
later he was on the ocean, bound for
Paris and her years ot servitude.
Her father had kept back both her
letters, and Gerald’s, too——she knew
that well enough when all too late—
and Gerald had seen her throw away
the flowers.
All this had gone through the
prima-dona’s mind atter she bad for-
gotten all about the square; then there
was a knock on the door, and she had
placed the letter over the picture in
the little desk and had risen to meet her
manager and an interviewing reporter.
The day had passed and she had been
driven in her closed carriage to the
opera house and was in her dressing
room, .
The coiffeur had finished twining
the string of pearls in her hair, but
she wae nervous and could not sit
quietly in that bare, unfurnished place;
despite the protests of the ‘‘General,”
as she called him, and tales of
photograph ; a strong manly hand,
and a strong, young, manly face, with
a high forehead and curling hair. If’
dranghts and colds, she would take a
peep at ‘the honse”’—prima-donnas
are willful and always have their way
colonies, Here in Richmond sat the
great convention for the ratification of
the Constitution, when Kentucky was
a district of Virginia; here have as.
sembled her law makers, her jurists,
and all that have contributed to make
the Old Dominion renowned and great.
Here met, year after year, the Old Vir-
giniang, with their wives and daugh-
ters, 10 enjoy the gay life of the capital
of the Oid Dominion, which they
adorned by their presence. Here sat
and deliberated the secession Conven-
tion during the period when, Virginia
stood as the peacemaker between the
two sections, [ere she finally declar
ed her decision, to secede from the
Union. Here Lee received the com-
mand of the Virginia forces, and here
he was appointed later to the command
in chief of the armies of the Confed-
eracy. Here the Confederate. govern-
ment passed its life, and from here the
Southern side of the war was fought,
To Richmond the armies and energies
of the North were directed, and for it
they strove. Whilst it stood the Con-
federacy stood, and it fell only when
the South was exhausted. — From “The
Old Dominion.” by Thomas Nelson Page,
in Harper's Magazine for December.
He Picked His Men.
A prominent Methodist clergyman
who now resides in Sau Francisco,
tells this incident, which occurred in a
Pullman sleeper while riding through
Iowa. As the train passed over the
state line into Iowa a seal was put on
the liquor sideboard in the buffet, and
the clergyman, wishing to test the en-
forcement of the prohibition law, call
ed the porter and asked him if he
could get a little whisky.
“Oh, yes, sah,” said the porter.
“And how about a little wine?”
queried the minister.
“I think I can fix you, sah,” was
was the prompt and whispered re-
ply. :
“But,” continued the reverend gen-
tleman, how about the prohibition in
Iowa 2"
*Oh,” said the porter, with a know.
ing wink, “we always pick our men,
sah.”
Starving Miners Eating Dogs.
Mapison, Wis., December 5.—Gov-
ernor Peck sent the following telegram
this morning to W. J. Shumway,
chairman of the relief committee at
Hurley : “It is rumored here that
starving miners at Ironwood, Mich.,
are eating dogs. Have Dr. McLeod
investigate, and it reports are found
true send them one hundred barrels of
flour and some meat until relief ar-
rives from Michigan for them,”
Women and Brains.
Sir James Crichton Browne's Late Utterances
Refuted. ~-A Scientist's Argument Which is an
Example of the Folly Into Which a Learned
Man May be Drawn—Some Telling Illustra
tions on the Main Point.
Sir James Crichton Browne has lately
brought forward anew the somewhat
threadbare argument that the brain of
the average man is several ounces heav- |
ier than: that of the average women, |
and that hence women must have swall- |
er men's} capacity. A few parallel fucts
may be worth considering 1n this con- |
nection,
The brain of an average elephant is
about three times as heavy as the brain
of an average man, yet we do not find |
that the elephant is three times as smart
as a man. The brain of an ant is indefi- |
nitely smaller than the brain of a sheep,
yet the ant 1s much more inteiligent |
than the sheep. In other words, the |
smaller creature may have a smaller |
brain without necessarily having inferior
wits. The woman, being a smaller
animal than the man, naturally bas a
smaller brain, but it does not fullow
that she is therefore more stupid. This
view is confirmed by the fact that if a |
boy’s brain is below a certain weight
the boy 1s invariably an idiot, while a
girl’s brain may fall several ounces be-
low that weight and still the girl be
rational.
Some scientists say that women’s |
brains are heavier in proportion to the |
weight of their bodies than the brains of
men. O.her scientists say contrary.
But the relative weight of the brain is
not a sure guide any more than its abso-
lute weight. There are certain small
birds, built light for flying, whose
brains are heavier in proportion to the
weight of their bodies than the brains of
human beings.
Tne only fair test of the comparative
ability of two brains is to see what they
can accomplish when placed under
the same circumstances. All over the
country in our public schools boys and
girls from the sama families study side
by side, and the girls average quite
as well as the boys. In the colleges the
young women take rather more than
their share of the prizes. This is proba-
bly due not to superiority of the temi-
nine brain, but to the fact that many
stupid boys are sent to college by their
parents because it is fashionable, while
if a girl goes to college it 1s generslly be-
cause she really wishes to study. But,
however we may account for it, the fact
remains that the alleged mental infer-
jority of women does not show itself in
any of the educational institutions
where the two sexes study together.
After graduation, not nearly so many
women as men score a brilliant success
in business or in the arts. The reaon,
I take it, is not because women have in-
sufficient inteiligence, but because most
of them prefer to put their inteliizence
to a different use—namely, to apply it
to running a house and family. This is
a business fully as important and useful
as any other. And to run a house and |
family successfully under present condi-
tions takes us much intelligence —one
might almost say as much statesman-
ship—as to run a railroad or a city gov.
ernment. If any man doubts this, let
him send his wife off for a holiday and
try for a week to do his own housework
and take care of half a dozen children.
Sir James Crichton Browne again finds
an alarming connection between femi-
nine intelligence and lack of personal
beauty. He fears that “what woman
gains. intellectually by the higher educa-
tion now in vogue she will loose in
beauiy and grace,” and as u proof of
this he cites the Garo tribe in India,
where the women are said to have the
entire control of public affairs and to Ye.
“the very ughest wotnen on the face of
the earth.” If education tends to ugli-
ness, it wonld be more to the point to
show that these Indian women are the
most highly educated women on the
face of the earth.
Brains seem to be distributed among
women as among men without any re-
gard to good looks. Some bright wo-
men are strikingly handsome, and some
are strikingly homely, Maria Mitchell,
for instance, was a plain girl, though
she developed into a fine looking elderly
lady. Mrs. Somerville, on the other
hand, was conspicuous for her beauty.
That education and freedon do not tend,
on the whole, to make women uglv may
be shown by oue illustration on a large
scale. American women are better
educated and more “emancipated” than
the women of any other country. Yet
all Americans and many foreigners say
that no other country can boast of so
many beautiful women, And any one
who has attended a class day at Welles-
lay will hardly be persuaded, as he
looks at the “rosebud garden of girls,”
that education is detrimental to good
leoks.
Sir James Crichton Browne's whole
argument is an example of the folly into
which a learned man may be drawn,
when io following a speculative theory
he closes his eyes to the facts of every-
day observation.
The newspapers have lately been
making merry over the case of another
scientific man. This gentlemen had
written learned articles to prove the
mental feebleness of women from the
smallness of their brains. He d ed, and
bis own brain proved on examination to
weigh less than that of the average
women. A goon many women will
await with interest the death of Sir
James Crichton Browne and the result
of a post mortem —Alice Stone Black-
well in Boston Globe.
Sm —
How He Died.
Mrs. Muleahey—Shure, docther, and
is it thrue that little Jimmy O’Toole bit
yoorae termamty in two and swallowed
the mercury.
Doctor— Yes, my dear madam, it is
and the boy is dead.
Mrs. Mulcabey—Shure, docther, and
it were a cold day for Jimmy, poor bye,
with him the mercury went down,
Doctor--Yes, madam, he died by de-
grecs.— Hot Springs Medical Journal.
| to be removed to give the ship sutfictent
cement
| sels,
| defective it has been found
A PossiBrLiry.—Binks— Yes, sir; I!
have a phonograph, and among my col-
lection is & song by Patti. Think what
a priceless thing that will be to the
coming generations when the great |
Patti’s voice is stilled forever ! i
Jinks—But, my deer sir, from present |
indications Patti will ontlive the phono-
graph.
Top-Heavy Cruisers. !
General Overhauling to Be Done by the Navy i
Department. |
WasuingroN, Dec. 5—The recent
examination of the craiser Mihias, it
is sald, has shown that the vessel is in |
a worse plight than was at fir-t expect
ed. Itis believed now that the tive- |
inch armor around her sides will have |
i
| stability and that besides this it will |
be necessary to place 30 or 40 tons of |
in her botiom to bring her |
meta center to the proper poist. Sie |
has no double bottom and unlike most |
of the new vessels eannot overcome her
top heaviness by filling this bottom
with water,
The Puiladelphia, which is one of
the crankiesy vessels in the service,
never goes to sea without 300 or 400 |
tons ot water in her double bottom wo |
stiffen her up. This increased weight |
brings her displacement up to wvearly
1,000 tons more than she was designed
for. A report has been received at the
Navy Department from the commander
of the Detroit stating that his vessel is
also a little top bheavy,.
The naval authorities are still at
work examining into the center of
gravity, meta center and other things
which go to show the stability of ves-
In every one of the five cruisers
which were under suspicion as being
NECESSAry
to place cement in their bottoms, All
of them will be delayed from two to
tour mouths by the operation.
Nuns in China.
They belong chiefly to the lower class-
es, the poorer parents being wiling to
sell their daughters to the services of
the convent The children thus grow
up in the ascetic atmosphere and event-
ually join the order. Poor widows
also frequently solve the self supporting
problem by entering a convent. When
the women are merely novices the front
of their head is shaved When the
novitate is completed — which cannot he
until the end ot the candidate’s 16th
year—thbe entire head is shaved, The
nun vows to lead a chaste and ascetic
life, Her diet is purely vegetable ;
meats and liquors she must avoid. She
must hold no intercourse with men, and
must take no interest in worldly affairs
Her religious duties, which she promises
faithfully to perform, are mainly pray-
ers, ceremonies and the care of the aitar,
on which the vestal fire must not die
out. Butthe Chinesa nun enjoys a good
deal of freedom. She may walk about
the town. Her spare time is spent in
tending the sick. And us the Buddhist
priests have very little intercourse with
Chinusse women, the nuns are the religz-
ious instructors of the feminine part of
the community, and thus exercise a
great influence.
Rrra CTE T—
Directum the Champion.
Saladin Gives the Great Trotter a Hard Race.
PHILADELPHIA December 5.— Di-
rectum the champion trotter, record
2:05}, defeated Sal din the great pacer,
record 1:05%, this afternoon in a match
race on the Point Breezs track of the
Philadelpnia Driving Park association,
Saladin, in a fine burst of speed, won
the first heat in 2:10}. Directum took
the next three and tne race in 2:10},
2:11}, 2:12. The tracc was somewhat
soft and therefore het ween two and three
seconds slow. In view of this circ m-
stance the performance of the two great
stallions at a season of the year when
thoroughbreds are usually in winter
quarters. may justly be regarded as re-
markable. At the conclusion of the
race, both Monroe Salishury, the owner
of Directum, and John Kelley, his driv.
er, said to James B Green, the owner
and driver of Saladin that the pacer
had given the king of trotters the hard
est race of the season. Throughout the
four heats Directum trotted perfectly
not breaking once, while Saladin went
into the air once in each beat.
To Be Sold at Auction.
The furniture of the Penrsylvania State
Building on the World’s Fair grounds is
being packed up and shipped to Harris
burg, where it will be sold at auction
December 12. The State Commission-
ers think they can realize more on the
articles if sold among the people of their
own State.
The coal monument, the property of
the Pennsylvania Coal Company, which
stood in the center of the Mining Build-
ing, has been torn down, broken up and
sold to a contractor.” There were 60
tons of coal in the shaft, and the price
paid was $3 a ton.
Rats have taken possession of the
Fair grounds, They are there in
droves, and where they come from is a
mystery. Workmen who are daily
tearing down the popcorn and lunch
booths find regiments of rats huddled
under the floors, 1n the wells and cor-
ners. The Administration Building
seems to be a favorite haunt.
Don't Bore People.
There is nothing so certain to make
you disliked as to tell your troubles to a
friend. Prosperity means friendship,
but don’t you take it into your head to
retail your troubles, or you will soon
discover that your company is not want-
ed, and the people who once bowed to
you in pleasant recognition, now walk
on the other side of the way, with a
cold and stony glare that looks over
your head or through your body, but
never meets your eye as of yore.
The people are not hard-hearted that
turn the cold sheulder to you. They
are only averse to knowing of any more
misery than they already have to bear.
— Home Queen.
What They Were For.
Mamma—‘What do those holes in
your new shoes mean ?”’
Rupert—*“I suppose, mamma, they
must be meant to let the squeaks out.”
— The small potatoes are worth
nearly as much per bushel, in tood
value, oun the farm, as the larger ones.
They may not be salable, but the pigs
will eare nothing for the size, and will
accept them as readily as they will the
! yellow flannel having SLriprg,
| material
(four ruffles, esch 2} 1ncies wide, put.
i the sume
best.
For and About Women,
A house dress mude trom a creamy
of fine
binck and pale blue 12 shown herewith.
{Ii 1s cat in a Mowber Hubbard style and
is gathered to a bias yoke of the same
The skir 18 garnished with
on in pairs. The collarette forms a
! point on each shoulder and 10 the mid-
dis of the buck. Ii is garnished with
an iosertion of tuile lace and a rufile of
The standing collar 1s made
of a taas strip of satin of 4 greenish tint.
and ho ks in front with a sminll head on
each side. The plain corselet bely is
made of the same shale of satin about
14 inches wide, and is held 10 place by a
gold buckie in trong and ho ks behind,
The belt has a foundation stiffened with
whalebone and serves to hold the full
foose folds in place ai the Waist. giving
the dress the appearance of consisting of
skirt and blouse, The putfed sleeves
are finished with lace frills at elbow aod
and wrist.
The overskirt is certainly with us,
but it is an apotheosized overskirt,.
brought to a pitch of pe:fection to sug
the times. In Paris the nest modistes.
are making (loth skirts to open over
underskirts « f velvet, and the combina-
tion is very chic and preity. Some-
time's the two skirts are of precisely the
same mwa erial, only the underskirt is
defined by a wide band of fur or velvet
or passementeris. For girlish costumes
silk and wool are much used, the anier-
skirt being of the silk, as are the girdle,
the collar, shoulder kuots and deep
cuffs. Black 1s very mueh the vogue
in Pars, and Doucet, indeed, is quite
fumous for black gowns, brighteaed
with a little color. One of the latest
productions 1s a black velvet skirt trim-
med to the knee with a shaped flounce
of petunia eolored velvet, headed by
vandy kes of jet pointing each way, and
by an inch wide band «f very fine Per-
sian lamb fur.” Thus some glossy fur is
used fora Bolero jacket, with revers of
biack moire opening on a soft vest ot
black velvet with two rows of white
lace extending down to a wide jet belt.
The mutton-leg sleeves are of petunia
velvet, made to droop at the top, and
these are finished at the wrist with
white lace cuffs. It is very lovely. A
pretty evening frock, which bas just
come home packed 1n silver paper,1s of
pale-pink satin, trimmed around the
very full skirts with trails of pink chrys-
anthemoms., The low bodice is seam-
less ard has a bertha of pink satin and a
girdle of the seme artistically folded and
fastened on one side with a large rosette.
Clusters of chrysanthemums are placed
on either shoulder, the buds and leaves
hanging down over the bodice in a pret-
tv, gracefully loose and easy fashion.
Another evening gowa is of pale tur-
quoise blue silk, trimmed around the
skirt with a band of turquois passemen-
terie, and having the bodice with bertha
and full shoulder frills of butter colored
iliread lace finished with turquoise gal.
loon, ’
In trilor gowns the skirt seams, as
well &s those of the bodice, are trequent-
ly lapped and sutched : soihetimes they
are covered half way up the skirt with a
flut braid ending in an embroidered ar-
row head. Many of the handsomest
costumes have plain skirts, elegantly
cut and absolutely untrimmed, with all
the ornamentation confined to the waist.
Sets of very narrow frills, hardly over
an inch wide, and cat on the circle, are
seen on the edge of round waists, and
make a pretty finish. I have seen five
or six scarf frills overlapping, and two
colors of materials are used us black sat.
in and green cloth: sometimes these
frills are each edged with a tiny white
lace insertion or picot edge. When
these frills are used they also appear on
the tops of the sleeves,
rn
Among an array of elegant Parisian
dresses was one of brocaded satin, show-
ing a circular skirt faced to above the
knee with black velvet. It wassecallop-
ed at the top, the sealiops outlined with
a narrow jetted gimp. A handsome
black cloth dress had a similar skirt.
Qualy fi'teen inches of cloth showed on
the skirt, a!l the rest being velvet. To
make it less heavy the cloth did not run
the entire length of the skirt beneath its
velvet facing. The effect was that of a
velqet skirt made with a black-cloth
yoke top.
Gowns of petunia satin, with black
moire from the knees down and for
large sleeves ; the satin has small black
figures, and any extra trimming is of
black lace.
The rumor ahout the reintroduction
of steels in the skirt is constantly com-
ing up again, and although it as yet
lacks direct confirmation, we must yet
so far grant the truth as to inform our
readers of a novel step in the direction
toward the revival of crinolines, says the
Philadelphia Times. This is an under-
skirt with a hoop made of the lightest
aluminium inserted in the bottom hem.
The model in question is made of pink
silk, measures two yards six inches
wide, and has a handsome flounce of
narrow tucks and lace around the bot.
tom, which quite takes away the ap-
pearance ofa crinoline. The hoop is
pliant enough to yield toalmost every
bend of the dress, while it also lends a
certain stability to the fashionable
width of our present dresses. We quite
think that those ladies who have tried
this support for their wide skirts will
readily acknowledge how comfortably it
keeps the multiplicity of folds away
from their feet.
SEEN IN THE STORES.— An odd pen-
wiper of yellow felt wiih the grotesque
figure of a “Brownie’”’ perched in the
centre.
Collarettes of yellow chiffon and knots
of Majenta veivet.
Pretty court-plaster booklets accom-
panied by a pair of little gilt sissors
attached by narrow colored ribbons.
Reautiful eases of decorated ecard-
board and light surah silks for holding
«Unanswered Letters’.
Decorated boxes for correspondence
cards and envelopes.