Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, September 27, 1895, Image 2
aA 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 Yv: by : Mary Jane can’t play.” As time slipped onward and brought her years. Filled with many a hard working day; The i scorned her and pushed her aside, The little wee pleasures she yearned for denied, 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 despair 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. THE YOUNG CRIPPLE, 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 busy.” 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- derstood.” 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 classical. 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 question. “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 confessed. 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. Silda! She did not move. “Ida, what is the matter? it?? 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 White. 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- ing. 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- manded. Wide tires would be universal. Race tracks would be “For Sale.” Stables would all be light, clean and airy. 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.) Herald. 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 it. One—T'll give ten dollars to see him. ‘Where is he ? Tother—On this train. short. “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 known,” 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 gutter. ——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. | | | | later, A Visit to Washington. The Capitol— Arlington — Marshall Hall—and At Vernon as seen by a Howard Correspondent. rem “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 spirit. 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 Mass. rn 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- ing. 2. Avoid cheap gloves and boots. Re- member, a lady can be recognizedlby either. 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 each. 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 decollete. 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.