:
5
Cis
’ lass it,but so robbed by excitement and fatigue
us of it individuality that she could hardly
.moths | be sure thorns
BY SHG MISS Whike atic witee the grav and withered leaves of the rosebush at
Where moths flutter wide- window were thrust aside, a
Ee, | SL Se
As soft as a Memory's whisperings, ust g not of. '
And circle close in the roadside grass Martha!” he whispered, “Martha!’
By a bit of a runaway gipsy lass. And she quietly unfastened the door
3nd Jed hifw, staggering amd lowing hey.
A bit of a lass in a cloak of green, ily on her , to the kitchen. He
And the pink and white of her face between | fel] full length on the wooden settee—a
The moon-barred blades of the grass's screen. | glight, ill-built young figure. Martha's
The step of an Old Year stealing by eyes as her large cool hands busied them-
The vagabond chicory rank and high, selves with the blood and dust, were as
To beckon the dew-sweet face between the eyes of a woman who looks at her
Of a wandering lass in a cloak of green. frstbomn, Ste bound up the Sut whence
applet stain come, then t
AVHigsouvil by te wiletress overion ROTHER nearer and waited for him to
breeze— speak.
What is the magic that lurks in these? “Van Ness is shot,” said he.
The full moon dappling the long gray wall, “The > y
“Governor Van Ness—and he'd have
‘The pleading plain of a lost Year's call, b President this fall."
That wanders near on the evening breeze
“You saw it done. . . .” A sharp mem-
To a bit of a lass by the apple-trees. ory of his wild, threatening Monologues
Abit of a runaway gipsy lass - they after
brought her to her feet.
you?
He sat up on one elbow looking at her
with vague trouble, but nothing worse.
“Not yet, I think. ] dare say they May
be when they find how thick I was wi
Ivan—" He for a moment then
lay down with a re of indiffer-
ence.~—"“What do I care!” . . .
“Martha, I've had a queer time since
‘That hides herself in the wind stirred grass
‘Where the moon-pale ghosts of the dead years
pass,
But it’s long the way that my heart must
fare
To the glimmering road in the night-sweet
air,
To the waft of fragrance amid the grass
And a bit of a runaway gipsy lass.
~Martha Haskell Clark.
Fe or ier en.
—— ‘ve a sees
the queerest things there are in the
MARTHA. world. You get reconstructed someways
— —but first you get all smashed to pieces
It was after el , but Martha still sat | and don’t know where you're at. Then
up with her bread. A dozen loaves al- | you get reconstructed. 1'd hardly thought
ready stood on end shawled in napkins | of you ’til to-night—then it seemed I
that were spending their last bare | couldn't remember anything else. So I
days in this service. A big pot of beans | came to find you. . . . Tell your fatherl
crowned with a slice of pork waited to haven't any ideas any more of any kind
into the oven for the t as soon as the | whatever. That ought to suit him. If
phesent occupants of it should vacate. | you have any, perhaps you'll share with
Martha would to bed. Mean- | me, but I'm done."
time she darned si Martha understood little more of his in-
Her thoughts were patil eccy with | coherent speech than that he wanted her
the wonders that would be possible in the | back after all. She leaned over and kissed
a
that had lain in her honest eyes
for a year could never be quite dominat-
ed by any other thought than itself, how-
ever material and of the moment. On
sunny mornings, when she sang about her !
work, the shadow was at its smallest, but |
when she sat up late and darned stock-!
ings it invaded the room, filtering in with |
the night, and spreading until it well- |
nigh put out the cheerful baking fire and |
the courage of her own heart.
It was early October and the faint sour
reek of a distant cider mill entered
through a window which gave upon Slop:
ing miles of apple country. The night
was warm for the season, and so still that |
you could hear—just barely hear—a faint
murmur, very far off; not the drone of a
city, but like that in pitch and in never
ceasing. From another window opening
to the south, Martha could see the light
of a city opening upon the sky, and this,
for size and steadfastness, balanced, in a
way, that murmur out of the north. The
Light and the Sound were to Martha
manifestations of the eternal and solid
universe, the one as enduring as the other
and as the stars—not that she often
thought much about them. But to-night,
between the two there seemed to be men-
tion made of last Sunday's text, and a
further amplification of that fiery sermon
which, dwelling long upon the wicked-
ness of the strike and longer still upon |
the wickedness of Governor Van Ness in |
calling out the troops to suppress it, had
ended nowhere except in a passion against
all men.
For the trouble which had so excited
the futile little clergyman lay under the
calm light in the south.
“Woe to the multitude of many people,” |
he had fumed, and the big Falls, she fan- |
cied, were preaching the same sentiment
across the night to that troubled city at
the south, but calmly and methodically,
not at all in the manner of the angry
minister i.vli
“Woe to the multitude of many people.”
whispered the Falls, as they plunged
eternally down over the of thedark-
ness, “which make a noise like the noise of
the seas; and to the rushing of nations that
make a rushing like the rushing of many
waters I”
Sometimes as she darned the stockings
her lips mechanically repeated the words;
sometimes her hands fell idle in her lap
Wille her troubled glance sought the win-
Somewhere under the lamps that cast
Shi Tigh upon the sky Jiyed aang toiled
empestuously t John Bailey. |
Troubje had begun for Balle When
r farm was swept away n
John, though he was ready for college,
‘
been a good deal of trouble for a boy, but
had come when his sister went to
York to se a Jures deliar a week
In a department store. obody
knew what had happened, but with-
year John had suddenly to go to!
town—perhaps it was a despairing letter,
perhaps some roundabout rumor.
was dead, he said when he came back;
and that was all. But from this time had
1H
g
g
She | hurt when all his family but him
dated his strange ideas. How it was that
blamed the Government and the rich
people gen for all his troubles was |
never clear to Martha, although he read |
aloud to her from excited-sounding books |
in support of this position. It seemed, |
moreover, there was a set of men in the |
There were foreigners among them, Mar- |
tha learned with apprehension. Foreign: |
ers, to her thinking, were men without re-
ligion, savagely whiskered, and unclean.
According to John's new philosophy i
nothing was rignt in the whole world. It
wrong to own land, it was wrong to
to inherit money. |
he began to ex-
Hh
i
SE
li;
5
&
5
g
8
his forehead, happy in spite of the great
man who lay tragically dead somewhere
beneath that light in the south, though
she gave him the tribute of a sigh, and
said:
d:
“Papa will feel it terribly. I guess he
thought the world turned around Van
Ness. He was going to be driven to the
poils tc vote for him.”
“Yes. There's lots of people will feel
that way. I'd been going to vote for him
myself, and if he could swing me around”
—this with a savage flash of his old pride
~—*“he could a’ done most anything.
“I'm going to tell you about it—and
about me. metimes thi take shape
better than hearing yourself talk.
“I thought a year ago that if you set
about it right you could fix up all the
wrong things in the world. I think so
still, but I thought then I knew low to set
about it. Now I'm not sure. I guess it
isn't the laws nor the rich people that ails
us. I expect it's something that goes
deeper. You'd think if people would only
reason a bit and half try to be decent to
each other it would work out right. But
there it is. They can't. Not that you
can blame them for being blind and deaf.
“And if people are really so stupid that
they'll queer anything that's done for
them, why, it isn’t industrial conditions
that make the trouble. Those fellows
that lectured at our ciub here said the
laws were wrong. [ couldn't say no to
that, with old McLean stealing the farm
out from under our feet. . . . And now
I'll tell you about Sally. I've never told
anybody else but Ivan.
“Well, when I found her in New York,
that time, it was in the Morgue. . . .
That's where three dollars a week brought
! her, and you know she was as good a girl
as ever lived. I made up my mind right
there that something was wrong with the
world—something big, and when these
fellows talked dynamite, I thought maybe
it would take something big and plenty
like dynamite to fix it. I was with them.
I don’t know where I am now, but 1 was
| with them then.
“At least it seemed important enough
to make it worth while trying the -
ment of killing a few kings and million-
aires just to sec what the effects would
be. Didn’t seem as if it could be worse—
and when I thought of Sally's three dol-
lars a week, and the Morgue, I didn’t feel
very tender of other people's feelings.
There was never a rich girl prettier and
smarter than Sally, never one of 'em that
| was more fit to survive. Survival of the
fittest be dammed! Talk that to a man
who's spent most of his life hoeing corn
and potatoes. Leave your farm to fight
it out with the weeds and then see what's
fit to survive. You'd have some rag
weed, I shouldn't wonder-—and poison ivy
' and bent grass—and that’s about the way
it is with people. I've seen a garden rose
| that had got lost somehow, trying to live
with big stinking cat-briers twisted around
it. That was about like our Sally when
she got to the city, I guess. . . .
“I met Ivan just after I got back from
New York when I was hot and cold all
littl chap and lame. He Jas
a little quiet t
father were killed by a party of Cossacks
—just for fun, I guess. The sort of fun
we read about Indians having with set-
tlers. His father had been away some-
where, and when he got back and count-
ed up the re was one he
couldn't find. He'd have been a lot hap-
ier if he had. It was the oldest girl. . .
van wasn't dead, but he was cri
"Well, old Kosek gathered up Ivan
to get out of Russia. They
t up in the Chicago stock-yards.
By the time Ivan could read and write
American, his father was
Sewing machife in a sweat-
shop. But he a good brain, and the
Whole of it was taken up with the one
and | think he
|
i
it. ‘Who's to blame, and how can I get
at'em?’ ... Well, he had his notions
about who was to I began to
saw him once or twice with queerer look-
ing chaps than himself and was glad he'd
found friends. He seemed to be picking
up, too, like 2a man that’s in luck, but he
never said what it was, and I had plenty
to think of. I was in luck, too. for about
that time I got m shorter job in the
ay. After that 1 idn't see him for a
while. .
“Now, what struck Van Ness to come
smash into the strike on his electioneer- | as
ing trip? It was like him, though. He
was the sort of man to go across the
world on foot to find a man or a thing
that was specially dangerous to him. |
can see him walk up to a lion—‘Beg par-
don, but I thought I heard you roar.
Were you addressing me?’—and the lion
would go away. ...
**Camp on his trail,” says the city edi-
tor to me; ‘therell be a big stcry, |
shouldn't wonder.’
“1 stood in the station crowd when his | the
train came in, and I kept at his heels all
day Jeera, and I heard what the
sai mble, grumble, grumble,
and sassing the soldiers when they made
‘em clear the road. Al toward even-
ing as | was going down et street |
saw a lame chap ahead of me that look-
ed familiar, and sla him on the back.
It was Ivan. He wheeled around, fierce,
then said: ‘Oh, it's you,’ and put back
his little knife, like a cat drawing in its
claws, and we went and had a drink.
‘Well,’ 1 said, ‘you're looking pretty jolly.
Are you in luck?’
" “The best in the world!’ said he, look-
ing like a stained-glass angel, and |
thought it was a girl and wished him
oy. . . . He smiled in his quiet way. . .
thought it was a girl ! . . .
“It was up to me to interview Van Ness
that evening. I got him at the stage en-
trance before he went on to the platform
to make his little speech. ‘Got anything
to say about the strike, Governor?’ I said.
‘Nothing but what I'll say to everybody
tonight,’ said he, and then: ‘What do you
think?’
“That was Van Ness. He always in-
terviewes. Turned them upside down
and shook out the crumbs.
“Well, I had thought I had ideas, but it
hit me somehow, as he locked at me, that
square way, that here was a man who had
done more thinking than I had. He was
none of your greasy, mealy-mouthed poli-
ticians. He was a man. He could have
said: ‘Do this,’ and even I would have
gone and done it without a word, and I'm
not overobedient.
* ‘I don't know, sir," I said, and then,
remembering things 1'd heard: ‘The men
are pretty ugly, sir. [I hope you'll be
careful.’
“ “There are different ways,’ said he,
ving me a cigar, ‘of being careful.
idn’t it ever strike you that there are a
whole lot of things more valuable than
life? As to the strike, my boy,” said he,
‘I'll answer you—not your paper—because
it was rather nice and unprofessional the
way you warned me just now. It isn't
altogether a matter of right and ying,
said he, ‘not many things are. Nobody
knows anything for sure. A man must
do his duty as he best seesit. Some peo-
ple might tell you to leave the rest to
God. Perhaps that’s as good a way to
put it as any other.” He put his hand on
my shoulder. ‘You young men,’ said he,
‘you young men—I wonder what you'll
make of it.
“Then one of his heelers came after
him to go in front, and I cut around to
get the speech. And half were clapping
and yelling, but of the rest some were
glum and some hooted. . . . guess |
got the speech all right. It'll bein the
per. . . . Lord! it seems queer!
e seemed so alive. I was thinking there
wouldn't be such a mess if all the Presi-
dents and Czars and kings were that
kind, and I made up my mind to vote for
him, principles or no principles.
“After the speech the band struck up,
and the people formed in line to shake
hands with him. The place was gay
enough with Rage and guilt eagles and
flowers. Igot in line with the rest, part-
might see or hear something
funny that I could write up, and partly
because I kind of liked the idea of shak-
ing hands with the old boy. As [ took
my place I saw Ivan ahead
there was a German beer keg between
us, so I couldn't n him. I thought
singular a chap with Ivan's notions
be taking all that time and trouble to
give the glad land to 5 bloody oppressor,
t decided he might have been quieting
down a bit like me. I planned I'd
him about it when I got him oul
Probably, I t, his girl had given
him a change of
“But just as he was
up for his
turn it came to me kind
sick and sud-
could
be nothing but mischief when Ivan Kosek
wanted to shake hands with a big man in
a office. So I tried to climb over the
dutchman—it was too late. . .
“My Lord! There
rought him up all
t0 stand without his crutches.
tried to say something—w
Y out?— Poor boy!’
‘poor boy!’
“Then his head dropped on his
der, the way I've seen Sally go
g
"ve been here ever since,” said
Martha wiping the tears from her cheeks |
with her apron.
long time,” she
“1 suppose
me—after all?” he asked.
“It has been an awfully
added. :
down to sleep after a fatiguing day. i
“And that’s Gueer, too,” he said. “But I
guess I'm done theorizing. I'll take things |
they come. i
“Well,” said Martha, “I don’t blame’
you so much for thinking the way you
did. I got to thinking myself, last winter,
when things went bad here. |
about you a lot. 1 didn't know what you ;
might get into. [ thought maybe 1 was:
to blame for not going with you, the way
you wanted me to,” she bl hotly, |
“but then, I thought, what would become :
of the children here, and father? I'd been
getting rather slack about the work, and
more | let things go the wosre 1 felt,
so [ braced up and did the Lest I could.
It made a difference.
“l saw them happier, and I thought,
well, that’s something. [ know I'm ac--
complishing something here. Perhaps so
long as one is sure of that one ought to!
stay where one has been put. Perhaps:
that's what the Governor meant by what !
he said to you about duty—if you're sure
you're doing right you don't worry.”
: “Ab, but Ivan thought he was doing his !
ut Fn?!
Yes. Queer, isn't it? I don’t believe we |
can unravel it very well into right and
wrong. Do we—do we have to try? Isn’c
it better for you, just as it was for me, to .
find something that keep us very busy,
and be of some use to other people?”
John's big and unwieldy brain corsic-
ered the wisdom evolved by her simpler
one, and, as he thought, he took her
muscular hand in his and studied it as
though some answer were written in its
worried |
THE PROOF.
When | behold the beauty that is thine,
The wonder of thine eyes, their depths di-
vine,
The blushing rose-tint of thy cheek and
lip
On which a wandering bee might pause to
sip.
When in mine ear the silver of thy voice
Sounds measures fair to make the heart re.
joice—
What need have I to list to stories of
The miracles to prove a God of Love?
When scoffers come to teil me God isnot,
That all by chance hath come, Uy none be-
got,
One answer have 1 for each scoffing vow,
And tha’, Beloved of My Soul, is Thou!
John Kendrick Bags.
New England's Paper-makers.
The paper-manufacturing industry is
one of the most important in the United
States. it employs a capital investment
of more than $350,000,000, creates an an-
nual product of about $300,000,000 in
value, representing an annuzl output of
over four million tons of paper of the
various grades, and employs more than
one hundred thousand people. Within
thirty years there has been an increase of
something like three hundred million dol-
lars in investment and two hundred mil-
lion dollars in annual output.
New Ecgland wis one of the first sec-
tions to take up the manufacture of paper,
and for years most of the paper of all
grades manufactured was made there.
Within twenty years the discovery of new
materials for manufacturing paper and
pulp, as well as the building of new
Plants, has changed the output of the
ew Englamd manufacturers from all
grades of paper to practically the manu-
- facture of finer grades of writing and ledg-
er Rapers o
i is revolution in the quality of paper,
however, does not apply to here
the great growth has been in the manu-
Maine, w!
facture of so-called wood papers. The
other States are the great producing
States of the country in the r grades
of paper and specialties. le towns
are dependent upon this industry for
their success.
All over Massachusetts and Connecti-
[to the ground.
cut will be found small mills in which the
output is almost confined to specialties,
because their product is well-known and
hag been made for years in a particular
mill.
workworn lines.
He looked for a long time in the same
way as her kind face, and with something
more than a lover's desire. He was put-
ting this and that together to evolve from |
his experience an abstract law. But it
refused to formulate itself. Instead, his |
conclusions ranged themselves in the 5
form of the three faces which stood out ' started them years ago. Their preduct
from the turmoil of the day. In the | is wellknown in the trade, and of the to-
other two he had that night seen express- | tal amount of paper manufactured in the
ed all that a face can reveal. He wonder- | United States, New England produces
ed if this third did not in some way offer | about twenty-five per cent. of all grades
a solution. Martha spoke: | and probably ninety per cent. of the high-
“I'll try to be a good wife,” she said | er grades of writing-papers.
humbly. | Methods in the manufacture of paper
In these commonplace words of self- | have changed greatly within twenty-five
forgetfulness and service he detected | years. Then the rags were collected by
something which he could not put into! the tin-peddler. |
form, but which seemed to hold the solu. | country trading tin and glassware for the
tion he desired, not only for the turmoil ; collection of rags upon which the house-
in the city and for all other troubles. ! wife depended for her kitchen utensils.
Laying her face in her kind young hands, | To-day there are very few rags collected
he felt his wild thoughts departing from | in this manner, most of them being im-
him, and, notwithstanding the con- | ported from foreign countries or collected
in abundance. The mills are owned large-
ly by the same families that originally
and the insistent warning mutter of the | has become a business in itseif. ;
Falls, was aware of that other allegory of | The collection of the waste materials
n pastures and still waters. And if makes it possible for the manufacturers
the rushing nations must, as the Lakes | of paper to compete with the foreign
do, plunge over a Niagara during some preduct.
portion of their infinite journey, still that | curred in the manufacture of paper ap-
is only an incident and not the end of | plies particularly to the cheaper grades,
things, for the rushing waters become ! where pulps made of wood are used al-
that there is the ocean, where great ships | rags are still used, and as the demand for
go safely enough labout their grave af- | these special products is not as large in
Collier's
| practically the same manner for a great
How Snakes Climb.
Many have thought that snakes accom-
plish the feat of climbing by wrapping
themselves about the tree and following a |
spiral course upward. Several years
two wood-choppers, having felled a large :
oak tree several feet in diameter and
very tall, found in its top two common
black snakes. After pondering for some
time, the men arrived at the conclusion
that one snake had taken hold of the oth- |
gr tail, and Shs by Hon they
ad been enabled to clasp the trunk, and | pany men prominent in the affairs of
by circling about it had ascended to the | Stata and nation were connected with this
oh industry. Congressmen, Senators, and
atever probability may have attach- o :
110 this conclusion tispelled by tt { Governors have all been connected with
| should not continue to manufacture these
turning out these papers than in the
coarser grades. It is practically impos-
| sible to build and operate successfully
i large mills for turning out the higher
of paper—which is not true as to
many other grades.
The history of New England shows that
Sheervation of tw naturalists. | papermaking pe ——
black snake, TeaSuring ps a,
trifle over six feet, was found clinging to | Vegmaple 5k.
the side of a small tree, around which it |
could have wrapped itself nearly twice
had it wished to do so. Instead of this
the snake passed right and left at short
distances, catching the folds along its un-
der parts over and behind the slightly
projecting rough strips of bark.
As the snake rested only five or six
feet off the ground one of the naturalists
grasped its tail to test its climbing quali-
ties Dt 2 t ge the force with
w it pl upward that it proved a
difficult task to hold it. Finally, becom-
ing annoyed at this ill treatment the
snake reached down threateningly at the
offending hand and, losing its hold, fell
A kind of vegetable silk is obtained from
a tree attaining thesize of an ordinary
chestnut-tree, which abounds in Para-
guay. It can be woven into threads, but
the chief use for it at present is for the
stuffing of quilts and cushions, for which
purpose it seems well adapted on ac-
count of its extreme lightness. This silk
down, and grows in
balls about six inches long and about four
and one-half inches in diameter. ;
Near Stettin, in Germany, there is a
manufactory that turns out skein silk
made from wood pulp. It is said that no
gp kind of wood is needed to furnish
The World’s Horse-supply.
perate zones,and bu i ign ES
t is tobea e or
Reariyall of these are tole fould in'Occi- | it abroad. ye
| lsagine two people saning off for a
journey o in an entirely
country, full of perils and of pitfalls, and
Eh
to r
is the of
people, Their courage ls
t avails nothing. e the path of
desert marked by bleachi
8
some
of human failure. Dr. Pierce's
Ittreats
is book is
to pay ex-
A 21 one-cent
~covered book, or 31
cloth covered. Ad-
be cast in any Shape desired.
The property of casting well is said to
por the Seal tonirace i
on solidifying {rom the liqui
lik: expands solidi
-—Do not let the brood sows that are to
farrow in the spring become too fat.
The pure water necessary to turn |
out a high grade of paper is here found
He travelled about the '
fusion under that quiet glow in the south | in the large cities, where this occupation '
uct. The revolution which has oc-!
the navigable St. Lawrence, and after most exclusively. In the higher grades ed
fairs.—By Georgia Wood Pangborn, in | individual orders, the business has been
| continued in the same localities and in
{ many years. The importance of this in-
| dustry to New England is very great, and |
| there is no reason why New England |
| grades of paper in competition with any
i other part of the United States. There
480 | is more skill and experience required in |
unknown ' is a little idea for a
married | simply
t, but | fall in square lines and need not
: FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
DAILY THOUGHT.
{One small cloud can hide the sunlight:
Loose one string, the pearls are scattered;
| Think one thought, a soul may perish:
Say one word, a heart may break.
~Adelaide A. Proctor.
Straw hats look somehow quite wrong,
like something that has arrived too soon,
until one remembers they are intended
for the South, to which many are making
tracks. “The hats for the South” are
' generally arriving when the regular win-
ter millinery is being marked down in
price for the clearance sale, and the
| spruce freshness of the new arrivals al-
. ways stands out in striking contrast to
. the rather debauched reckless air of the
bargains.
Of the new straws we may always get
{a foretaste in these “models for the
South” and of the new shades of color.
Vivid pink and red are conspicuous
elements in these schemes, also in some
cases the larger hats had their straw
shapes covered with chiffon, all-over em-
bioidery or stretched satin, revealing the
circumference of their new straw forma-
tions only when the brim curved up-
ward, and where the satin stopped
short by an inch or so of completely cov-
ering the upper surface. A hat of a new
species of tegal (beige color) stretched
over the cerise satin was finished by an
immense mass of black . Another,
but of black straw moul over with
cerise satin, had thrown upon its right
side a bunch of mauve and pink and
white anemones, blooms unnaturally
large, but all the more effective, the ar-
rangement of which was so graceful and
free that only “thrown” seems to describe
it.
It is a characteristic of the newest hats
that the climax of the scheme, the mass-
ing of flowers or feathers or plumage,
occurs on what we have always called
the "off-side.” Instead, then, of this mass-
ing being raised aloft on the left of the
shape it lies below on the right. Very
often a hat may be turned round back to
front; and behold the difference at once
achieved! A black velvet hat with dark
gray feathers, at which I had been scowl-
ing because the heads of the plumes had
massed themselves on the left side, the
wrong side, | suddenly found could be
transtormed into the latest idea by this
quick-change method.
Undeniably the most charming design
for a child's coiffure is the one that really
beautifies the little face and that is not
governed by fashion or custom. On the
other hand the least charming is the de-
sign that has a premeditated air. That
is why the small girl whose name might
justifiably be Curly Locks, because her
tresses ripple and curl naturally all over
her head, 18 so enchanting a picture,
| while her sister, whose hair will not curl,
but is tortured into ringlets, bears an
artificial and ill-suited appearance.
Her elfin locks would be quite as at-
tractive in their way as her sister's curls
if they were dressed prettily in their nat-
ural state, with the due attention that
- should be given to ail juvenile coiffures
| in reference to the child's characteristic
style.
Longer curls require a different treat-
ment. They must net be permitted to
interfere with tle child's sight, for as a
cauge of trouble to the vision wayward
tresses, though picturesque, can be very
aeangerous attributes. Hence the plan of
parting the hair at one side and gather-
ing it Leneath o restraining ribbon on the
top of the head is one to be recommend-
Thinking about your spring suit? Well
here a1e a few points about coats. They
must be short, the longest being the 26-
inch cut, which comes stout to the finger
tips of the stretched-cut arm.
Of course, the strictly tailored coat is
always in good style and if you intend to
make your suit last for two or more sea-
sons it is advisable to have it made on
the accepted mannish lines. Insist upon
| a fine quality of interlining—the flexible
| horsehair being the most satisfactory.
| This gives a certain tailored stiffness, but
i it will not crush or crease.
{ The linings for coats this spring are of
| the brightest colors. In Paris the y
| oF white lsd in hou a
a ng fancy, if you rely upon con-
| servatism to pull you the sea-
| sons, it Years advisable to insist upon the
gray satin of good quality.
\ Dart coats show the raised line
| at the waist. iB Bae yan.
. ming, by straps, or ums adjusted
, above the normal line. Buttons are used
‘as trimming, Being Su silver, gold or
‘satin. There is a introduction of
. satin and bright colored cloth at the col-
! lar and revers.
| Sailor collars and long revers are to be
‘used on many tailored suits, and satin
| combined with lace is the newest idea on
ia charming cloth model exhibited re-
| cently.
{Do not have too many pockets, as they
! tend to destroy the fit of the jacket. Your
i ior will a Jou thi. And, Htholah
i y are m conveniences,
should not be overtaxed, zs the pockets
that i once stretched can rarely be
pressed into good shape again.
Finally, brush your coat and have it
| pressed by a competent tailor from time
| to time.
! forward with a few new ideas.
| First of all there is the veil—that need
i not be of tulle now. It can
‘ either a piece of rare old lace
down through generations, or it
| fine net, on which a running
| be applied by
| bride.
When adjusting the veil a ted ef-
fect an be given in ron. ang
r
i
as in other years.
e fichu line is quite evident
| bride's gown of this season. It can
crossed folds of tulle, net, chiffon
sfsFa82
3 ells :
| Trains are square or pointed
| not too long, are
! usually attached
above the normal
| the princess cut is
+ If you wish, the
| less—one of the
i comfort and beauty i
| looking neck. Remem
: simplicity of the bridal
: main feature. E
' will never be out of style.
:
:
|
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