Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, September 27, 1895, Image 2

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Deore Walon,
Bellefonte, Pa., Sept. 27, 1895.
Because she was lonely, and shabby and
§ ‘
Not oiherod” and petted like they,
The little school girls tossed their heads in
the air i . :
Barred her out of their games with a cool lit-
tle stare. .
And gay little groups whispered, passing her
by :
Mary Jane can’t play.”
As time slipped onward and brought her
Filled with many a hard working day;
The i scorned her and pushed her
The little wee pleasures she yearned for
Till the taunt of her yofith ever rang in her
Ears: .
“Mary Jane can't play.”
O, Maker of Souls, as the world doth run.
Is this always to be the way? :
Must the weak always stand on the brink of
Must the shabby great soul live, with no one
to care
Must it always be said of some poor, forlorn
one ?
“Mary Jane can’t 2 .
—The Kansas City Joiuonal.
She wae the youngest but cne of a
family of eight. Physically her life
was and could be nothing save one
long crucifixion. Crippled and de-
formed there stretched behind her a
record of euffering, before her the
prospect of greater torture still, Na-
ture had used her cruelly, for while
her puny and mieshapen frame in-
epired ridicule, or at best shuddering
pity, she had been dowered with a ca-
pacity for affection that burned itself
into fiercer intensity geting the love
that never came.
Misunderstood, she had gradually
retreated into a little world of her own
with nothing to love. Nothing?
There ‘was her violin, but that could
hardly be considered apart from Ida's
own individuality. It was her violin
that expressed more eloguently than
herself could ever have done the lone-
liness and the lovelessness of her life.
How many heart conceived tragedies
had throbbed barmlessly away upon
its vibrating strings! How many de-
lirious day dreams had groped their
way from her inner consciousness into
exhilarating life through that medium
which faithfully interpreted all her
varying moods |
“It speaks tor me,” she once con-
fessed to the old doctor who under-
etood her better than any one else.
“What other people feel they can ex-
plain in words, but I seem to have no
power to expression except through
my violin.”
Dr. Marshall was silent for a mo-
ment. Then he asked presently, “Did
you ever hear my boy Austin play ?”
Ide chook her head. She had
heard no one. Her morbid conscious-
ness of infirmities prevented her from
attending any public concert, and Aus-
tin Marshall. as she knew, was a pro-
fessional violinist of repute.
“You ought to hear him. They tell
me his execution is remarkably good,
and besides geniuses like you two
ought to kuow each other. I’ll tell
you what I'll do,” he added kindly.
“I'll bring him round one evening to
see vou, if you like, when he isn’t
Not many days elapsed ere the doc-
tor kept his promise, and Austin Mar-
ehall, tall and strong, held the small,
wasted hand of the diminutive musi-
cian and wondered the while how the
perfect soul his father had described
had managed to find itself in that mis-
shapen little body. And, later on,
when Ida had completely astounded
him with her rendering of Dvorak’s
“Romancel’—wild, intense and heart
breaking—he told himself that such a
thing was monstrous. Here was an
untutored genius, beside whom him.
self would pale into comparative insig-
nificance, doomed by nature to per
petual colitude while, Orpheuslike,
: “rhe sought by her music to charm into
life the rocks and trees.
“You want some lessons to correct
a few technical errors,” he said at last
‘and then you ought to be able to
hold your own at ri or St.
James’ with the best of them. IfI
could believe in the transmigration of
eouls, I would swear the lost soul of
some repentent sinner is imprisoned in
‘your violin,”
He spoke with the generous eathu-
siasm of genius, Mere talent is spar-
ing of praiee and begrudges success.
“I can never play in public,” she
answered briefly, with & painful @ush
that testified to her semsitive recogni-
tion of physical defect.
“Ida on a platform? Why, they'd
never see her!” interpolated a jovial
elder brother, which the brutal caador
of admiring friends had sometimes mis-
taken for frank geniality. ‘We call
her the Diminished Seventh,” he add.
ed, with a conecious smile that be-
trayed the originator of the questiona-
ble pleasantry.
Poor Diminished Seventh! She
winced as from & blow, and Austin,
with the intention of covering her con-
fusion, ebserved with ready tact :
“I suppose because tke minor har-
monies are most perfect and least un-
The retort was so sudden and 80 un-
expected that for once the wag of the
family was left speechless and not
quite certain whether some disguised
slur on himeelf had not been subtly in-
troduced, while Ida, teeling vaguely
that those few words had sealed a
compact of eternal friendship between
Austin Marshall and herself, took up
her violin again and dashed into a
wild and characteristic Hungarian air
whose reckless jubilee was shadowed
by an underlying vein of sadness.
And when at last the music was all
over she crept to her room up stairs,
marveling that the book of life, with
its multitudinous possibilities, had
never been opened to her at the en-
chanting page of friendship.
| passed without Austin Marshall con-
| triving to epend some time with the
deformed musician, and asthe days
lapsed into weeks, and the weeks into
months, it was noted that when Ida
{ played alone her airs were more ro-
matic than before. And even her un-
| musical family béeame infected with
| their gayety. Her mother who fre-
quently alleged she could enjoy good
music as much as any one, if she could
only get it, was cheered to the verge of
joyful anticipation, for who knew that
Ida might not attain the supreme
height of inspiring dance music, such
as her mother loved, and abandon for-
ever those ghoulish wails she said were
But when the old doctor noticed the
change he shook his head in appre.
hension, while tears of pity filled his
eyes. His profession had trained him
to read the longings ‘of the heart as
well as the infirmities of the tenement
it inhabited, and if all he thought and
dreaded were true—Had things been
different! If Ida had not been dis-
tinctly isolated by nature from the
sweetest gifts life can hold !
and the rustling ot leaves, Inside sat
the little cripple propped up with pil.
lows, her pititul vitality burning itself
slowly away.
She knew she was dying, but the
knowledge brought her no fear. Per.
haps she believed that if eternity held
for her worse tortures than she had yet
endured she had served on earth an
apprenticeship to pain long enough to
fit her for it. Perhaps Austin Marshall's
companionship and sympathy dur-
ing the last few weeks were making
the end comparatively easy. At any
rate, when the door was opened quietly
and he looked in, violin in hand, she
greeted him with a grateful smile.
“Like to have some music?’ he
asked cheerfully, though he was
pained to mark each day how her hold
ou life was weakening. “What shall
I play 2"
“Give me mine,” she said suddenly,
“and we'll play together.”
The violin lay, as usual, on the ta-
ble close by, but Austin hesitated.
“If you really feel equal to the exer-
tion,” he begun, and then, answering
the command in ber eyes, he passed it
to her without another word.
— Aud ove evening came the crisis the
doctor had feared. |
“I shall mies all this dreadfully
when I'm away,” Austin said as b
turned over a pile of music for a par:
ticular duet, “I'm going north in a
day or two, you know. Didn't I tell
you?” he added answering the unspoken
“Next autumn, when I am back
again,” he eaid presently, feeling
vaguely that something was wrong,
“we shall have some more pleasant
evenings together, I hope.”
Ida epoke not. For a moment she
was conscious of naught save a terri:
ble sense of absolute despair and a cu:
rious buzzing in her head like the re-
peated twang of the G. string. Going
away—and until the autumn! Why, by
that timeshe might be dead and buried!
She looked round vacantly, as one
gropes blindly in the dark for some fa-
miliar object. She tried to speak, but
the words refused to come. Some-
thing like a dry sob rose and was
strangled in her throat. Then, with-
out a single word, she took her bow
again aud drew it softly across the vi-
brating strings. Austin looked up in
momentary surprise. Then he aat
epellbound, while she played the
weird “Romance” of Svendsen's, once
heard never forgotten.
He bad heard it played by more
than one finished musician, but this
was a different rendering. It was like
the despairing cry of a lusty swimmer
failing near the shore, or the wail of a
lost soul striving to escape from the
sea of torture aud driven back by a
host of fallen angele. In those strains
he read her heart as plainly as though
speech had passed between them. He
knew the bitterness of her life, he saw
the vista gray and barren before her,
and when the last note died away he
learned in a brief glance from Ida’s
eyes all the strange discords had not
It was but for an instant, for in the
next, overcome by the strong excite
ment she had just experienced, the
bow slid helplessly from her nerveless
fingers, and she fainted.
Symptoms of little moment in an or-
dinary person might in her case prog-
nosticate the worst, and any new phase
however slight, was at once submitted
to medical opinion, In the present in-
stance as she failed to respond readily
to the customary treatment, Austin
hastened for his father while she was
carried to her room. She had over-
exerted herself with her music was the
geueral explanation of the seizure, and
this was what the doctor was told
when lie answered the hasty summons.
In a brief space, however, she yielded
to his restoratives, and before he left
the house she had dropped into a
sleep quiet and natural.
For some time father and son went
homeward in silence. Then the doc-
tor asked abruptly : .
“Does Ida know you are going
away Yi)
“I told her this evening,” Austin
answered, and in some confusion, as
he recalled the way she had received
the news. “Father, do you know” —
Ah, that accouats for it!" said the
old man, as though speaking to him-
self. “Yes ; do I know what?”
“Well—I think—that is, I'm afraid
—that Ida"—he stopped short, for the
confession was alike tender and hu-
miliating. But his father, who had
feared such & contingency well nigh
from the first, understood what had
been left unsaid.
“YI know, Austin, I know. But
what is to be done? The friendship
that you bave felt for her—that she
believes she has felt for you—has been
the ome bright spot in her life. Sev-
enteen years old and 17 years of per-
petual martyrdom Do you knew
how long I give her wo live ?"
“f suppose that when she’s 21"—
Austin began, but the doctor cut him
With tremulous fingers she drew
her bow across the strings, and recog
nized in the opening notes her frvorite
{ie 3 by Schubert, Austin softly fol-
lowed, and in a moment was =o ab.
sorbed he scarce noticed how her bow-
ing became gradually weaker, until it
faltered and stopped just before the
concluding bars. He looked up in
sudden apprehension. Surely her face
bad not worn that strange gray shad.
ow just before.
She did not move.
“Ida, what is the matter?
She opened her eyes, but they fell
on him without a gleam of recogni
tion. Then she dropped them on the
violin ehe was still holding. A faint
smile rested for a moment on her lips.
With an unsteady hand she mechan-
ically raised her bow. Then, with
one chord—that of the diminished sev-
eath—it dropped from her relaxing
hold, but not before Austin had invol
untarily concluded the phrase, so that
the diminished seventh was resolved
into perfect harmony. — Blac: ind
What is
Er ——————
All of Which Proves.
What a marvelous change in the
treatment of horses would quickly oc-
eur if men were ireated exactly as they
treat their horses : Tn that ease
Whips would be seldom used.
Jerking the bit would cease ; also
_ Yelling, cursing, pounding and kick-
Check reins would be very slack.
Blinders would be discarded.
Clipping and docking would go “out
of style.”
Big loads would rarely be seen.
Axle grease would have a boom.
Better Roads would be loudly de-
Wide tires would be universal.
Race tracks would be “For Sale.”
Stables would all be light, clean and
Horses would be watered frequently,
fed regularly, and have a variety and
sufficiency of food, and a deep soft bed
at night.
All of which proves how mean and
foolish some meu are.— Hallstead (Pa.)
A Dream Interpreted.
A young farmer, who had great con-
ceit, little discretion, and scarcely any
education, presented himself once at a
Presbyterian conference and said he
wished to be ordained as a preacher. “I
ain’t had any great learnin’,” he said,
frankly, “but I recon I'm called to
preach. I’ve had a vision three nights
runnin’; that’s why I’'m here.” “What
was your vision ?”’ inquired one of the
elders. “Well, said the young man,
“I drempt I see a big, round ring in the
sky, an’ in the middle of it was two
great letters—P. C. I knew that meant
Prsbyterian Conference, an’ here [ am.”
There was an uncomfortable pause,
which was broken by an elder who
knew the young man, and was well
acquainted with the poverty of his fam-
ily and the neglected condition of their
farm. “I haven't any gift at reading
visions,” said the old man, gravely, as
he rose from his seat, “but I'd like to
put it to my young friend whether he
doesn’t think it's possible these two-let.
ters may fave stood for ‘Plant Corn ?’
This version was accepted by the ap-
plicant. :
Concerning Chicago Traits.
One—By George, I never heard of a
Chicago man that woulda’t blow and
lie about his confounded town as
though it was the only town on earth.
Tother—I know of one that wen’t do
One—T'll give ten dollars to see him.
‘Where is he ?
Tother—On this train.
“If she lives to see the spring,” he
said gravely, “I shall be surprised.”
The young man was startled, even,
shocked. There was silence between
them for a few moments; then the
doctor said with hesitation :
“Austin, I suppose you would not
think of putting off your visit to the
Harrisons? I know Marian expects
you, but I think if she knew the pleas-
ure you would be giving that poor
child whose days are numbered she
would be the first to bid you stay. In
a case like this there can be no ques-
tion of disloyalty to her. And, Austin
if you can, for heaven’s sake let her
still believe that she has found the af-
fection she has craved all her life.
The deception won't be for long, and it
will comfort her more in her last strug.
gles than [ or the entire college of
physicians could hope to do with all
the ecience that the world has ever
Five weeks later, in Ida’s bedroom,
a thin ribbon of spring sunshine had
gtruggled through a crevice of the win-
dow blind and lay in a bright streak
That evening was hut the forerun-
ner of many similar. Scarce a day
acroes the floor. Outside, the garden
wag cheerful with the song of birds
One(jumping up and looking around)
— Where?
Tother—Out in the baggage car in a
long box. :
——Give up woney, give up science,
give up earth itself, and all it contains,
rather than do an immoral act.
——A happy heart is worth more
anywhere than a pedigree running back
to the Mayflower.
——When a person is down in the
world an ounce of help is better than a
pound of preaching.
——1It is hard to believe that sin well
dressed is the same as sin rolling in the
——Behave yourself, and you will
keep somebody else out of mischief.
——Opportunity sooner or
comes to ail who work and wish.
——1If we had better sight everybody
would be good looking.
A Visit to Washington.
The Capitol— Arlington — Marshall Hall—and
At Vernon as seen by a Howard Correspondent.
“Train!” cried the boys who were |
lounging around the platform of our lit- | ;
‘thoughtful companion had provided
tie station, and we were apprised that
the mail for Lock Haven was comming
and by the use of a sedative she was
inon time. Our baggage on hoard and
ourselves carefully flxed in the last seat
of the rear coach, we were soon flying
past telegraph poles, trees and all objects
along our route. The furnace, the mill
and many familiar spots were soon fad-
ing away in the distance, and our rever-
ies suddenly disturbed by the brakeman
calling out—“Lock Haven, passengers
keep this coach f5¢ Williamsport, Har-
risburg and all points south.’
For once in our life fortune favored !
us, for we were in the right car and did
not have to transfer our luggage and
bundles from one car to another, as gen-
erally is our misfortune. Our car was
soon coupled on to the Erie Mail and
again we speed on our course over small
streams, through beautiful valleys, and
then, side by side, with the ranges of
the Blue Ridge; out again we go through
fields of corn, and over the river, again
causing our brain to reel with ecstacy
and delight, until again we hear the
familiar scream of the red-headed brake-
man as he calls out—¢ Williamsport,
twenty minutes for dinner” By this
timean inward system of telegraphy was
working which requested that the
lunch basket be opened, and an inves-
tigation made of its contents. One
of our party busied herself with sugar,
lemons, and icewater, and in a short
time we were refreshed with a glass of
lemonade, which, with our fruit and
lunch, made the old gentleman in the
adjoining seat quite restless and irritable
so much so that he could not withstand
temptation, and the last seen of him he
was hurrying through the opening in
the basement of the Park Hotel, pre-
sumably for lunch and lemonade (?)
which may have quieted his perturbed
Our lunch finished, and the familiar
“all aboard” sounded, and again we
were on our way, soon leaving the
lumber city far in the distance. To
occupy our minds we now began to
glance around us to see what kind of
companions we were to have on a days
journey. The restless old man with the
red kerchief, had left us, and our most
noticeable companion now remaining
was a lady with a white hat and a Roman
nose. She assumed an attitude of non-
chalance and seemed to have laid aside
dull care and was only living in the pre-
sent—caringinot one whit what the mor-
row would bring forth. Her features
were striking and her expression pleasing
but something about her seemed to sug-
gest that she was destined for a long go
and, who knows, she may be scheduled
for the same;place as ourselves. At last
we discovered she was critically survey-
ing our party then, of course, we had to
direct our inquisitive eyes elsewhere.
Soon Harrisburg was reached ; then
York, Parkton, Baltimore, and, at last,
we were on the lest forty wiles of our
journey, the capital of “Uncle Sam’s”
domain. As folks generally do in such
cases, wa began gathering our traps to-
gether and adjusting our hats, when we
were plunged in to total darkness, much
to our surprise, by the entrance into
the Navy Yard tunnel which leads to
the grand political and moral centre of
the Nation.
We were, indeed, very glad when the
train came to a stand still and
Washington was announced for we were
tired, sooty and hungry, but the day
was not over yet. Our guide,a tall, grey-
eycd individual, whom we had engaged
prior to starting ou the trip, met us at
the depot and transferred our trunks
and retinue to our boarding house in
the North West section of the city.
After having spent an hour in remov-
ing some of the cinder and dust,
we started oat on a ramble, and, being
Saturday, we were attracted in the di-
rection of the President’s mansion where
we listened to the music rendered by the
famous Marine Band, which plays every
Saturday evening at 5:30 o'clock. The
music over, we repaired to a neighboring
lunch room for refreshments, but
on account of a rollicking baby in a
high chair near by, one of our party re-
frained from eating and cpent the time
sympathizing with the refractory infant.
After lunch our guide took us by way of
Sixteenth street to the Cairo, a thirteen
story building, but the musicians had
disappointed the management, therefore
there was no entertainment on the roof
garden that evening. A Penna. avenue
car soon took us to the foot of the
Capitol and we started on what appear-
a very trifling undertaking—a walk
around the building—but when half
way around we began to realize our task
and when we asrived at our starting
point could scarcely believe that we had
circumambulated a mass of white mar-
ble and iron whose dimensions are ;
length, 751 feet, breadth, 350 feet, cov-
ering an area 153,112 square feet. After
gazing on the steps where the inaugural
addresses are made, and where Coxey
attempted to make his address, we de-
parted for our resting place
in the upper part of the city. After
crossing numerous circles, streets, aven-
ues and parks, we reached the
residence of our land-lady, and,
were ushered in for the night:
One of our quiet little party, however,
felt very’ much fatigued after the days
journey; but fortunately for her, her
abundant supplies from the apothecary’s
i soon happily dreaming of home.
| In the morning in company with the
| guide we started by stage route tor
| Arlington, once the home of the gregt
| Confederate General Robert E. Lee.
i The property was confiscated by the
| Government and converted into a na-
{ tional cemetery. Its beauties are be-
: yond comparison, from the front you can
| view the city in all its grandeur, and the
broad Potomac, while away to the
north and east the horizon stands out
on the tops of the prettiest of undulating
hills. Thousands of the Nation’s hon-
ored dead lie here surrounded by fiowers
and the most beautiful of shrubbery,
while here and there stands out between
the walks, carved in artistic design, the
lines from the “Bivouac of the Dead”
by Theodore O’Hara—
“The mulled drum’s sad roll has beat
The soldier's last tattoo;
No more on Life's parade shall meet
That brave and fallen few.
On Fame’s eternal camping-ground
Their silent tents are spread,
And Glory guards, with solemn round,
The bivouac of the dead.”
One large stone that attracted our at.
tention in particular was that marking
the resting place of 2111 unknown dead
soldiers picked up from different battie-
fields and here buried in one grave.
Sheridan’s grave also will attract the
a‘tention of the visitor as it stands on
the crest of the hill overlooking the riv-
er, and the city which he tought so val-
iantly to preserve as capital of the Un-
ion. We took a drink from the well
which still retains the old style wind-
lass and bucket and then, after register-
ing our names in a visitor's register,
kept in the old mansion for the purpose
of ascertaining the number of visitors at
the cemetery each day, we again board-
ed our stage coach drawn by a pair of
Virginia ‘““hosses”’-which, from appear-
ances, needed weather-boarding to keep
the hay from being exposed through the
ribs. After riding post Fort Meyer, the
sun-set gun, and Georgetown, we were
again in the city.
A sail twenty miles down the Poto-
mac on an excursion steamer, wo the
program of the afternoon. The first
landing was “mede at Marshall Hall
now owned and operated by a company
as a summer resort, but formerly the
honie of a old Virginia family of Mar-
shalls. "We noticed on the slabs of mar-
ble covering the rudely constructed
graves, in the old family burying
ground, that some of the dates were as
far back as the-~middle of the seven-
teenth century. The simple, home-like
surroundings of the place would cause
one to pause and wonder whether the
people in those days ever hed anytbi ng
else than happiness.
The next morning our guide
met us bright and early and off
we were for Mt Vernon, the
Tomb of Weshington Having ben
down on the river the previous evening,
we went by rail to Alexandria where
we transferr-d to the electric line run-
ning down King Street pest the old
Weshington Church and its shady
lawn, on down past the Marshall House
where the daring Col. Ellsworth was
shot after hauling down the confederate
flag from the top of the house, during
the conflict between the North and
South. After an houis ride over Old
Virginia's pretty lands we arrived at
the Mecca of our pilgrimage—Mount
Vernon. Ir whole United America
there is no home more pleasantly sit-
uated. In a high and healthy country ;
in a latitude between the extremes of
heat and cold ; on one of the finest riv-
ers in ‘the world—a harbor of repose,
and a delightful place in itself. The
mension is beautifully situated on a
rolling height, crown-d with woods,
surrounded by gardens of flowers, and
commanding a magnificient view up
and down the Potomac.
Upon entering the grounds we went
directly to the tomb, where rest the
bodies of - Washington and his wife.
The vault is constructed of brick at the
base of a little hill, and closed by a gate
of iron bais.. An old darkey, who was
aslaveon the place for many years,
guards the tomb and pleasantly answers
all quc-tions of the visitor, and for hig
remuneration sells miniature hatchets
“with which George did'nt cut the
cherry tree.” In ascending the hill to
the mansion, we prssed the barn and
noticed on the stone near the top of the
gable, standing out in rude figures, the
year +1733". An old carriage of an-
cient pattern, is all that remains in the
carriage house. After passing through
the house and viewing its many relics
of olden times, we wandercd through
the lawns and gardens ; viewcd the
historical magnolia tree which was
planted by General Washington two
years before his death. Upon being in-
formed that the train was due for return
to the city, we bade adieu to one of the
most interesting and historical estates on
either continent and cne which will be
ever dear to American people.
For and About Women .
Gail Hamilton has almost recovered
from her long and painful illness, and
is now at her home in Hamilton
Be careful in choice of color ; black
is ever the smartest, if you have a doabt
and silver gray comes next best.
Browns, blues and reds must be treated
carefully and a bright plum color will
insure success. If you have any respect
for yourself, avoid what are termed
“art shades.” No woman can stand
unwholesome greens and terra cotta,
unless, indeed, she uses a sufficient quan-
tity of art shading for her complexion.
. What pages one could write on things
and colors in dress to be avoided !
There might be a code of rules at the
beginning of every fashion page—a sort
of “what to eat, drink and avoid.” I
will enumerate a few :
I. Don’t imagine, if you yourself are
short, and inclined to ~stoutness, that
Jule will look well in the blouse that
suits your slim sister. A void the blouse
unless on a very tight, wellfitted lin-
2. Avoid cheap gloves and boots. Re-
member, a lady can be recognizedlby
3. Have one well-made gown in-
stead of five home-faked-up ones.
4. Ifyou are fair fly from blue and
wear yellow; and dark folks, unless
brunettes, follow the same rule.
5. Don’t ever follow fashion at the
expense of being ridiculous. Ezagger-
ation is merely bad style.
6. Don’t wear wide skirts and big
sleeves if you are short.
7. Avoid sailor hats if you have a
big face; if you can wear them, put
them well over the forehead.
8. Don’t wear short sleeves in the
daytime unless you can afford long
gloves to correspond.
9. Don’t pull your waist in ; it is
considered merely second-rate, and,
with the enormous width of the hips and
shoulders of the present day, it is quite
unnecessary. ’
10. Spend less , time and money at
yoyr dressmaker’s and more in putting
on your things properly, and remember
the most lovely hat Virot ever created
looks nothing if your hair is badly
done. Don’t consider it vanity to dress
well and carefully ; it is mere laziness
not to do so.
Mrs. Frederick Vanderbilt has at va-
rious times given several fine ambu-
lances to the differeat New York hospi-
tals. A good ambulance will cost near-
ly $1,000, but with the springs, mat-
tresses and other complete equipments
with which Mre. Vanderbilt fits the
vehicles their cost is not under $2,000
Boas have come back, not only in
fur, but in chiffon, ribbon and feathers.
The last named are now quite short in
some cases, and have for a fastening a
little fur head, such as a mink, to hold
them close at the throat. Even the
chiffon boas have these tiny heads as a
finish, ‘When chiffon collars are short,
they often terminate in a huge chou on
each side of the throat, from which long
ends stream down to the waist, or even
the knees. Combined with the material
itself one often sees a bunch of leaves
and flowers, which add to the size of the
chou. One seen had clusters of holly
berries intermingled with the chiffon,
but this will probably not leave the
shop until the holidays come, when it
will be very appropriate.
In keeping with long boas are the
bows which are worn on the shoulde Is,
from which theends hang down almost
to the hem of the frock.
Harper's Bazar says the tailors who
were slow to adopt large sleeves and
very wide skirts are now loudest in their
praice, and insist on commending them
for winter use. Certainly their long
lines are most suitable for the cloth and
velvet dresses made by tailors, where
draperies and flounces would not be ef-
fective. The coat-waist will be used for
gowns of these heavy fabrics, though
round full waists will not be abandoned
by the small slight women who find
them becoming. An effort will be
made to do away with the godet back of
these coats, commonly known as the
“ripple back,” and substitute flat fan-
like folded pleats. The back 1s to be
very short, failing only a few inches
below the waist, and is to have
few seams, though it is closely fitted.
The front may be lapped slightly to al-
low the use of very elegant buttons, or
else it falls open siright and a belt is
passed around the waist, going outside
the back but slipped inside the under-
arm seams, and fastening under the
open front. Square long tabs are on
these fronts, and they are merely edged
with fur. A novelty that is very effec-
tive on single-breasted waists is double
revers, the lower revers cut in slender
points that lap in fichu fashion.
That the stock collar has suffered at
least a temporary check to its ambition
to reach heights of fame nobody doubts
any longer. At least one-third the au--
tumn models are without it, and it’s not
at all an uncommon thing to meet upon
the street a pretty girl in a dress that in
throad glare of sunlight seems almost
The question which is now occupying
the larger part of the attention of the
makers of the mode is, perhaps, regard-
ing the sleeves. Alas! slowly but sure-
ly they are decreasing in size. The
styles selected by the young Duchess
of Aosta on the occasion of her marriage
gave the first impetus in this direction
among the beaumonde. Still there is
fortunately no indication of the ap-
proaching return of the gan sleeve,
fitting closely from top to bottom. The
only real change is in the upper por-
tion. Gathers to extend from the
shoulder down to about five or six
inches on the arm will give freedom to
the shoulder, and the sleeves will fall
mn folds over & cuff or lower portion,
plain or trimmed, according to taste.
Sleeves differing from the material of
the costume will also be the whim of
the hour. They are too convenient to
be passed by. Velvet is again becom-
ing popular for sleeves of ,woulen dress-
es. This combination is a great help to
economical women who« wish to get as
V ery truly yours, SiBYL
much wear as possible out of each dress,
coat or bodice.