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IS
these thingsVbetter in France. It came last
sight, afterNTd cone to bed: and the
authorities or. this hostelry -were too con
siderate to rake me. Then this morning,
they say, they thought I was so much occu
pied that they would do best to wait about
-delivering it till I was at leisure. That's
French courtesy -with a vengeance. How
ever, you're safety arrived at last; and
that's the important thing."
"And Miriam? Miriam?" I inquired im
patiently. The doctors are with her even now," he
answered.
"You got my cable-dispatoh, of course,
and put off the operation?"
"Zes, I cot your dispatch, and we put off
the operation untiL the physicians all in
sisted that it must not be put off longer
that if put off longer it would be ineffec
tive." Panic stricken, "Ton don't mean," I
gasped, "you can't mean that it has been
performed?"
"As I just said, they are with her now
they are performing it at this moment."
"Heavens and earth, mant Did't I tell
you that it would imperil her life. Didn't
I entreat you at all costs to defer it until I
could get here?"
'Ton did, certainly. But these other
medical men, who were on the spot, and
could examine her for themselves, were of
one mind in declaring that her life would
sot be imperilled, and that the longer the
operation was delayed, the greater wonld be
the danger of atrophy of the optic nerve.
Finally, on "Wednesday of this week they
fixed upon this morning'as the furthest date
to which they could consent to postpone it
It was a choice between going on without
your presence, and taking the risk of per
manent blindness. Bo I had to let them
proceed."
"Ton don't know what you have done I
Ton have done that which you will repent
to your dying day." I groaned, wringing
my hands, "lou might have known that I
should never have telegraphed as I did, that
I should never have" taken ship for Europe
st two days' notice, unless I was master of
life and death but where are they? Take
' me to them. Perhaps it is not yet to late.
Perhaps I am still in time to prevent it
Take me to them at once."
I doubt whether they will admit you.
They would not allow me to be present; and
I am her husband. I have had to walk up
and down the hall, waiting."
"Not admit me 1 They will admit me if I
, have to break down the door. Take me to
them this instant"
"Very well," he assented. "This way."
He led me up a flight of stairs, and halted
before a door, at which he rapped.
The door was opened immediately by an
-elderly man in professional broadcloth, who
said in French: "3Tou may enter now. It is
finished."
My heart turned to Ice. For a breathing
space I could neither speak nor move. At
last, with the composure that is born of de
spair, "Finished?" I repeated. "You have,
then, trephined?"
'We have."
"And the patient is"
"She is not yet recovered from the anaes
thetic" We entered the room. Miriam, pale and
beautiful, Jay unconscious upon a sofa near
the window. Tvr other professional-looking
gentlemen stood over her, one of whom
was tanning her face.
Fairchild presented me: "The American
physician. Dr. Benary. The uncle of my
wile."
I was in no mood to be courteous or cere
monious. Having bowed, "Gentlemen, I
must beg of yon to leave me alone with
the patient," I began, addressing the com- i
pany at latge.
My remark created a sensation. The
French physicians exchanged perplexed
glances, and a chorns of indignant Mais,
Monsieur's rose about my ears.
"Fairchild, I am in earnest," I said. "I
insist upon these gentlemen leaving me
alone with my niece. I look to you to see
thr they do so. I have neither the leisure
n the inclination to discuss the matter.
- Every second is precious."
Somehow or other, Fairchild prevailed
upon them to withdraw. I suspect that they
saw that I was in no frame of mind 10 bear
trifling with.
"Imay remain?" Fairchild queried.
"No, not even you. I must be quite
alone with her lor the present"
"But "
"Nay, do not waste time in controversy.
Leave me at once."
Fairchild went off.
I sat down at the side of Miriam's couch
and fanned her.
CHAPTER XV.
By and by she opened her eyes, and they
rested upon my face. It was obvious that
she saw me; her blindness had been cured.
Almost at once, however, she closed her eyes
again; and for a little while she lay till,
like one half asleep.
Suddenly she drew a quick deep breath,
sat up, and looking me intently in the eyes,
asked, ""Well? Is it over?"
"les, dear, it is over," I replied.
"Well, then, it is a failure, a total, ab
ject failure. I have not lost my memory.
I have forgotten nothing. 1' remember every
thing. My memory was never clearer or
more circumstantial. And you you said
there was no chance of failurel"
With these words, she sighed, and fell
back upon ier pillow while I, with a deadly
.sickness at the heart, realized that the worst
which I had feared had come to pass. She
"was Louise Massarte now. "Where was
Miriam Benary? She was Louise Massarte.
She had begun at the exact point where
' Louise Massarte had left off. And the
operation which she had in mind when she
asked, "Is it over?" was the operation that
I had performed upon her nearly five years
gone by.
Where was Miriam Benary ? What had
become of that sweet and innocent personal
ity? And of the love with which she had
blessed our lives?
''Yes, you nave failed, you have failed,"
she said again. Then all at once starting
up, and speaking passionately, "Oh, why
did you interfere with me last night? Why
did tou cross my path and thwart my will?
Whv did yon not let me die then, when it
would have been so easy? Why did you
bring me here to your house, to 11 me and
intoxicate me with hopes that were doomed
to be disappointed? Oh, it was cruel, it
was cruel, of you. I was insane td listen to
you. I was mad to place any sort of cred-'
euce in what you said. It was so palpable
a fairy tale. I ought to have known that
you promised -the impossible. I ought to
havers 'But it is not too late. Leave me.
Leave the room. Let me get up and dress
myself and go away. Where is your sister?
She put away my clothes. Send her to me.
I will not be detained here longer."
What could I do? "What could I say?
Oh, Miriam, Miriam," I faltered help
lessly, "calm yourself. For heaven's sake
lie quiet You will work yourself into a
fever, into delirium. Yonr agitation may
costvou your life. Lie quiet and let me
think. My poor wits are distraught"
She caught at the name, Miriam.
' "Miriam? Who is Miriam? Have I not
told you mv same? Why do you call me
by another? Do you wish to mock me? to
Oh! oh! my head!" She screamed
sharply, putting her hand to her head,
"What have you done to me? What have
you don to my head? Oh, I had such a
pain it shot through my head. Oh, fool,
imbecile, that I was, ever to enter your
house."
At this juncture the door opened, and
Fairchild entered.
"I could wait outside no longer," he ex
plained. "I heard her scream. I cannot
stay away from her."
To my unspeakable amazement, she, at
the sight of her husband (whom, I had
every reason to suppose, she would not recog
nize), started violently, and catching her
breath, exclaimed, "What! You! Henry
Fairchildl Here!"
"Yes, dear Miriam," Fairchild answered,
coming forward, and putting out his hand
to take hold of hers.
But she drew quicklr away from him.
"curiam again: -Diiriam! What farce is
this? Am X in a mad house? Are you both
maniacs, that you call me. Miriam?, Oris
it a chargdejye&ueMWM lor re wilder-.
xnent? And yout Henry Fairchildl What
are you doing here? You, of all men? Oh,
this is some frightful trick that has been
played upon me. This old man, with his
innocent face, and his protestations of good
will, has trapped me here. But for what
purpose?' To what end? Well, Mr. Fair
child, I suppose you come as Boger
Beecham's messenger. Well, speak. What
have you to say to me?"
During the first part of her speech it was
plain that poor Fairchild simply fancied
her to be raving in delirium. But when
she mentioned that name,. Eoger Beecham,
an expression of extreme horror, mingled
with blank incomprehension, fell upon his
face; and he stood staring at her, with
knitted brows and parted lips, like a man
dumfounded and aghast
"Roger Beecham," he repeated presently,
as if dazed. "What do you know of Boger
Beeoham?"
"What Mo I know of Boger Beecham?
What comedy are you acting? What does
Louise Massarte know of Eoger Beecham?"
Fairchild became rigid.
"Louise Massarte," he gasped. "What
have you to do with Louise Massarte? Was
for God's sake, was she related to you? I
noticed long ago a certain remote resem
blance. But why do you speak to me of
Louise Massarte? What can you know of
her? Dr. Benary, what has happened to
her? She is delirious. What can be done?"
"I am nol delirious," she put in hastily.
"But either you are oryou have cleverer
talents as an actor than I have ever given
you credit for. I cannot see the point or
purpose of your mummery. Why do you
pretend not to recognize me? Do you want
to make me doubt my own identity?"
"Hot recognize you? I? Not recognize
you, Miriam, my wife! Ob, what dreadful
insanity has come upon her!"
"I? Miriam? Your wife!" Then she
laughed. "Come, Mr. Fairchild, a truce to
this mystery. What is your business with
me? With what commission has Mr.
Beecham charged you?"
Fairchild sank upon a chair aud pressed
his brow between his hands.
"She is out of her senses, but how comes
she to know those names?" he said, as if
speaking to himself. Then, turning to me,
"Perhaps you, Dr. Benary, can clear this
puzzle up?"
"This is hardly a fitting time or place for
attempting to," I rejoined. "If you had
only respected my desires, there would have
been no snch occasion."
"The time and place are certainly not
fitting for recrimination. Will you
answer me this one question: Do you un
derstand what she means by her references
to Louise Massarte?"
"Yes. I will answer that I do."
"Very well; I must now request you to
explain that meaning to me."
"Sot now, Fairchild," I protested. "It
is impossible for me to do so now. But at
the proper time I will tell you everything
everything that 1, myself, know."
"But the relation", the connection between
them, between that woman and my wife.
Were they were they sisters?"
".No, not sisters."
"What then?"
"Fairchild, I implore you to wait "
But I cot no further.
From the sola on which Miriam lay came
a low peal of sarcastic laughter, which sud
denly, however, changed into a moan, and
next instant she threw up her hands, gave a
sharp cry and swooned.
Fairchild was at her side in a twinkling,
and knelt there, siezing one of her hands
and gazing with wild eyes into her face.
"She is dead, she is dead," he groaned,
frantically.
"No, she has only fainted. But the con
sequences of a fainting fit in her condition
may be terrible," I said.
"Oh, my darling, my darling," he sobbed,
bending over her till his cheek swept her
breast
She never regained consciousness.
I have not the heart to dwell upon what
followed.
This paragraph cut from Galignani's
Messenger ot February 1 tells its own story:
"Fairchild On Wednesday morning,
January 30, at the Hotel de la Bourbon
nage, ot phrenitis, Miriam Benary, wife of
Henry Fairchild, of New York.
The End.
Copyright, 1SS9, by Henry Harland.
All rights reserved.
NEXT SUNDAY
A Complete Bomamlc Historic Novel by
JOAQUIN MILLEK,
Entitled
"FOB FORTr-EIGHT DAYS.
THE THEATE0PH0KE.
The Report of n Wonderful Invention Which
Proved to be a Fake.
Not long ago many continental newspa
pers contained long accounts of an alleged
new and startling invention, says an En
glish paper, which was called the theatre
phone. It was described as a device for
utilizing the advantages of the telephone
in conjunction with those of the automatic
delivery system. In coffee-houses and other
places of general res'ort were to be placed
certain iron boxes, each of which was jto
be connected by means of telephone wires
with all the theaters in town. On a plate
was to be the inscription: "Put a penny
into the slot, pull out the delivery funnel,
move the index hand to the name, of the de
sired theater, and listen." Then it, was as
serted, you might shut your eyes and ima
gine that you were In the presence of Got or
Bernhardt, or in a stall at the opera. For
three blissful minutes you would enjoy the
luxury, and then, unless you previously
contributed another penny to the machine,
the connection would be automatically in
terrupted. Arrangements, it was stated, were in
progress lor supplying theatrophones upon
easy terms to private houses;, and the
machine would, it was declared, be on show
at the Paris Exposition. There were many
leading articles on this new and brilliant
invention, and handsome offers oi capital
for developing the theatrophone reached
Paris, addressed to MM. Marinovich and
Szarvady, who were said to be the lucky in
ventors. But, alas! the whole business was
imagined by some wicked fooler. There is,
it appears, no snch thing as the theatro
phone; and as for MM Marinovich and
Szarvady, they are righteously savage at
the liberty that has been taken witn their
names.
Time, Trouble and Money Saved. '
Merchant Traveler, j
j'lYoung man," said the deacon, "X hope
you never got to horse races."
"No, sir."
"That's right There is nothing that leads
to ruin faster. You lose your time, your
money and your sense of honor. You are
thrown in contract with the lowest, and you
have nothing to look back upon except a
life full of regrets. Keep away from the
race track."
"Yes, sir, and besides what's the use of
going clear out there when there are so
many pool rooms right in town."
Literally Obeyed.
Collins (the just-over hostler) Yez told
me tobangSelim's tail,sor. Ol'vehadwan
whack at it, an'Oi'm waitin fer him V cool
down's bit, till Oi gets another claiapjwid
ThK
A DAY IF VERSAILLES
-i -
Scenes at a Grand Fete Given in
Honor of President Carnot.
A PAGEANT OP GREAT SPLENDOR
In the Historic Groves Once Owned by
French Kings Witnessed fcy
A COACHING PAKTI OP AMERICANS
rCOBBXSPOXDXXCX Or THE DI8PATCH.1
Paris, May 14. Last Sunday the old
historical town of Versailles was in grand
fete in commemoration of the visit of the
President of the Republic, his Cabinet, any
number of distinguished personages and
more than 150,000 individuals from Paris,
including untold numbers of foreign visit
ors. Ever so many mail coaches aud pri
vate carriages made the trip to the palace
town that Louis XIV. created. Our turn
out was a fine one, a spanking team of four
grays, wearing harness spick and span, and
an extra set of silver-tipped crossbars hang
ing at the hind end of the coach. And you
should have seen those who rode on it: Mr.
and Mrs. M. H. DeYoung and Miss Dean,
of San Francisco; the two Misses Libbys,
of Chicago, beautiful girls, rich and good;
Mrs. Cecile "Wentworth, an American
painter of much talent, who exhibits annu
ally at the Salon; Mrs. Seymour, a wealthy
widow from New York, charming in her
ways and handsome; Mr. Gorman, Presi
dent of the new bank which New York and
Chicago capitalists have just started here in
Paris, and three other gentlemen.
"We bowled merrily up the Champs Ely
sees, through the Bois de Boulogne, and
over the bridge at "St. Cloud. Going up the
hill of the old town I -saw a famous lady
just descending from her carriage at a cor
ner villa, and my cry of "Vive l'Adiny 1"
was echoed loudly by my friends when they
learned that she was nbt only a compatriot,
but the leading prima donna of the grand
opera. Mr. de Young, who held the horn,
tooted Adiny a few of his best notes, and
she, all radiant, sang back, "Vive l'Amer
ique!" with her purest tones.
A GLIMPSE OP THE OLD FLAG.
Further up the hill we met Mr. VanBer
gen in an open carriage with his son, carry
ing the Star Spangled Banner. VanBergen
is one of the oldest and best liked members
of the colony in Paris, and he was coming
from his country residence at Montretout
with the flag for his house in the Champs
Elysee.
"We were on the road at least two houn
ahead of the Presidental party, but already
there were plentyof vehicles'going toward
Versailles. There were also regiments of
troops marching thitherward, and it was
pleasant to see them give way for us that
we might proceed swiftly, as all good mail
coaches should. We got finally into the
Avenue de Paris, and many were the rem
iniscences that that thoroughfare called up
to those of us posted in French history.
Here, more than. 100 years ago, lived a cer
tain Countess who had royal favors be
stowed upon her; there was tbe house, with
its Italian balustrade, that Bontemps, head
valet de chambre to Louis XIV. built after
he had retired from domestic service. And
it was from that house that Mehemet-Biaz
Bey, the bogns Persian ambassador whom
Mme. de Mantenon invented to distract her
royal lover, started to the courtly reception
given him by King and courtiers.
PICTURESQUE SCENES.
The nearer we got to the old town the
more numerous were the historical mansions;
those of the Princes of Conti and of Conde,
of the Duchessed'Angouleme.and the house
in which Mme. de Genlis wrote a new edi
tion of her "Annates de la Vertu." At
Versailles there were flags and decorations
everywhere. The people of the town were
in the streets, doors and windows teemed
with human beings, and there was life and
animation. Versailles had completely lost
the cold and solemn aspect so habitual to it
The streets were crowded with mail coaches
and carriages, and every incoming train
'from the capital brought more spectators.
The magistrates of the place were in their
official robes, and so were the town authori
ties, the members of the university and the
leading citizens, all awaiting the arrival of
President Carnot
Our whip knew his way to the Hotel de
Beservoir, and so we missed going through
the immense triangle of the Place d' Armes.
There were thousands of soldiers resting at
ease in that part of town. Guns were stacked,
cavalry horses were without riders, and the
army of Versailles was taking things easily
along the sloping greensward, under tbe
shade of the four rows of magnificent old
trees.
The park of Versailles may not now be as
beautiful as it was in the days of the "le
Boi Soliel," but it is still a veritable
Olympus, or rather an Elysian Field, where
it gods do not wander, human beings may.
"We left the park for a while, and walked to
the grand Trianon. The richly gilded and
oddly furnished rooms were crowded with
sightseers, so we hurried through, with
hardly a glance.at the royal bed which was
once made up for Queen Victoria, though,
she never slept in it, ana out ot aoors again,
around the bend in the road to the stable
Lhouse where State carriages are under
cover.
CHARIOTS OP FRENCH KINGS.
You should see the splendid chariots
which emperors and kings used to ride in,
in those other day. The one that carried
Napoleon I. and'Josephine to their corona
tion is valued at 200.WO francs, and weighs
I know not how many thousands ot pounds.
It took eight stout horses to draw it through
the streets of Paris, and it is wonderfully
beautiful. There are half a dozen others in
the same room, including one the young
Prince Imperial rode in when he went from
the Tuileries to Notre Dame to be baptized.
It is richly made, but not much lanrer than
the army ambulance which brought hisdead
body back from the rushes in Zululand.
Barnttm has tried frequently to buy one or
two of these chariots, but the State has al
ways refused to part with them.
It was time to retrace our steps to the park
again if we would see the waters in lull
play; and as we roamed along my mind
was full of old memories of the time when
these buildings, these stones, these trees,
were witnesses of stirring scenes in French
history. The shaded walks, the marble
statues, the fountains, the orangery, and
the grassy swards, all have au indescribable
charm in which the past is inextricably
interwoven with the present, now in gay
and bright colors, and now somber-like and
dark with the flow of blood.
A MONARCH OP RENOWU-.
The dominant thought at Versailles is the
presence everywhere of Louis XTV., and
after him Marie Antoinette stands out the
boldest The King was an absolute prince
before whom even proud Venice humbled
herself and kingdoms asked of him a
sovereign. He was the very apotheosis of
despotic monarchs, and on the day of his
death the grand old chateau that he built
took on the appearance of a tomb, and its
days of pride, pomp and circumstance were
over until the coming of the Austrian.
Louis XV. tried to change the somber tone
and failed; and it was not until the reign of
the shepherdess of the Trianon that park
and palace were gay, again. Once more it
was dark and empty when the Bevolntion
with all its horrors Came, and the tumults
of the Empire and the. selfishness of the
Restoration also left it In contiuual gloom.
Louis Philippe, the citizen king, cleared
off the cobwebs and swept the rubbish out;
he even made needed repairs, hung master
pieces on tbe walls, placed statues on pedes
tals, waxed the floors until they shone brii
liantl v.regilded and repainted cornices. The
old chateau was turned into a museum dedi
cated to French glory. Time-and again I
have strolled, through its many galleries
alone or accompanied by friends. I have
-ii J J ,.- J 1 lr -r t
always eujuyeu ieib i:nhHu,iii4Mui wujuio.
. t" :j." ' n ,v..'.i.jti'i..'
WBWS
i-lliaBUKG LlfcPATJH,
Sunday. I have stood in that room and
looked down the long perspective, and
pictures have risen up before me or
GALLANT MEN, RICHLY DRESSED,
with one hand clasping the hilt of the sword
while the other raised their plumed hats to
grand ladies in flowing gowns. I could see
the Swiss Guards standing with their
halberds, guards with helmets, sparkling
with precious stones ; favorite courtiers
waiting for tbe King to come; officers of tbe
fialace in gorgeous uniforms; the monarch
istening to the diplomatic speech oi some
ambassador; duchesses and dames ,of lesser
rank sitting in superb robes on footstools at
the Queen's feet Then I could see these
people moving slowly and majestically
through the minuet or the pavain, and the
royal personages, princes and princesses,
ladies and gentlemen of rank and high de
gree taking part in stately movements.
There is nowhere else a vaster hall so
sumptuously decorated; it is a gallery of
mirrors 80 yards long, 15 wide and with a
very high ceiling. There are 17 arched win
dows looking on a lawn of waters, green
grass and well-kept trees, and on the other
side of the room there are as many corre
sponding arcades covered the whqle length
with mirrors framed and ornamented with
plated gold. Marble pillars, richlyadorned
and gilded too, stand between each mirror.
The gilded cornice is'decorated ,with the
crowns of France, cocks' heads, suns and
fleur-de-lis. The panels of the arches and
arcades are painted in a sort of cradle-form
and hold 30 pictures by Lebrun, of big and
little size, the whole representing the his
tory of Louis XTV. from 1661 to 1678. and
these paintings still preserve all their or
iginal effect
CURIOSITIES OP VERSAILLES.
This gallery of mirrors has been the
theater of several important events. More
than 200 years ago this very month Louis
XIV. received in it the Doge Lescari, ac
companied by three Senators, who had been
sent to make the excuses of the Bepublic of
Genoa to the King ot France. Louis de
clared himself quite satisfied with the Doge's
explanation, and then good naturedly asked
his republican visitor what he thought the
most curious thing in Versailles.
"To see myself "here," replied the ruler of
Genoa.
Last Sunday afternoon, as we were watch
ing tbe waters, I asked a lady in our party
what she thought was the most curious
thing at Versailles, and she made precisely
that same answer. In this magnificent hall
were held the fetes of the marriage of the
Duke of Burgundy with the Princess of
Savoy, and on that occasion king and
courtiers donned costumes of a sumptuous
kind never before known, and which have
never been equaled since. Persian mon
archs have promenaded on its well-waxed
floors, and Peter the Great honored it with
a visit Kings of Denmark, of, Sweden, an
Austrian Emperor, and a Bussian Grand
Duke who succeeded his mother to the im
perial throne, have been within its walls.
But perhaps the grandest ruler Who has ever
stepped foot in it since the days of Louis
Quartorze was oneWilhelm, lor it was there
they crowned ths Emperor of Germany in
1870. It was after that that President
Thiers gave there a banqnet in honor of the
Queen of England and the Prince and
Princess of "Wales; and it was there Presi
dent MacMahon gave the ball during the
Exposition of 1878, to which too many per
sons were invited, and where nearly a thou
sand of us lost our hats and overcoats.
A GRAND SPECTACLE.
After President Carnot and his guests had
lunched and the speeches were over every
body went out into the park to see the loun
tains play, especially that of the Neptune
basin, which had not been so worked in
many years. For a long while the superb
basin was almost a mass'of ruins. The bas
reliefs were broken, the stones disjointed,
the statues cracked it presented s lamenta
ble appearance. It took eight years of
skillful work to restore it as it was origi
nally, and last Sunday afternoon we all had
the pleasure of seeing this grand fountain
in full play. In it there are 2 enormous
bases of bronzed lead, each containing little
fountains, and over 60 other fountains from
which the waters fall into the grand central
basin. This fountain fete stretched all over
the park, and it was of such, grandeur the
other day as would have delighted the heart
of Louis XIV., could he but have come
back to life again and seen it as did our
little party. Many of the crocodiles, the
tortoises, crabs, nymphs, gods and goddesses
have been re-gilded, the marbles have been
cleaned and the borders of the fountain re
paired; and as the rays of a bright May-day
sun fell athwart the falling cascades, the
jets and streams the effect was wondrously
beautiful.
In the evening we went into the open
court before the old chateau to see the fire
works. These were set off and sent up in
the Place d'Armes, and there was no one in
our group, cither those from New York,
who have seen many brilliant exhibitions
of this sort, nor those from the Pacific coast,
who are used to grand things, who had ever
before looked on such a marvelous display.
Their exclamations of astonishment and de
light were as heartv as if they had been so
many children. Finally we "hurried back
to our mail coach, made good speed to Paris,
and before midnight were home again.
Henet Haynie.
BLUNDERING ON THE TfiUTH.
Cuttinff Remarks From the LIpi of Canning
Little. Prattlers.
Scottish American.
A gentleman, with a face "full of mete
ors," and a Bardolphian nose, in every re
spect a fully equipped "knight of the burn
ing lamp," took a child on his knee one
day and said: "My child, what a beauti
ful complexion you have got."
"What is a complexion?" the childasked.
"Oh, your pretty red cheeks; they are so
red."
"And is that complexion on your nose?"
the child asked, to the confusion of our Bar
dolphian friend, and the amusement of the
audience.
Another child fell into a blunder through
a curious but perfectly natural misunder
standing. A very surly, cross-grained, and
sour individual, who had a perfect genius
for getting into loggerheads with everybody,
had visited a family where, to the surprise
of all, the surly gentleman included, one of
the children paid him a great deal of atten
tion. At last the youngster confided to the
strange friend, "I should so like to stay at
your house."
Thegentleman was flattered with so much
attention, and in his kindest tones asked,
"And why would you like to stay at my
house, my little man?"
"Because," said tbe child, with the great
est simplicity and frankness, "mamma says
yon are next door to a bear."
The child thought of a menagerie in the
neighborhood; but the gentleman asked no
more questions.
Snakes Seem to Know Something-.
Kansas City Star.
A woman living in the vicinity of Bur
ton was bitten the other day by a rattle
snake while ploughing in the field. There
are a few things which the women of Kan
sas should leave for the men to do and even
the snakes seem to know it.
Tbe European Flan.
SCjC-u,.-. 'XS?
blXJAY, MAY 20,
SOCIETY'S SERVANTS.
Beautiful Booms for Them in the
Houses of Millionaires.
PARLORS AND BILLIARD EOOMS
For Their Use in the Mansions of the Van
derhilts and Others.
THE DIGNITY OP
FBENCH DOMESTICS
tWBITTBS TOE TUS DISPATCH.
The lodging of servants appears to be
part of the great domestic problem. On
this subject among mistresses there is a
vast discrepancy. of opinion. I know of
an amiable and opulent couple who always
choose their town house with reference to
the servants' rooms.. They argue that in
every house they and their guests can be
made comfortable, but not in every house
can each of the five servants have, a room
alone. So far they should be treated as mem
bers of the family. This is a necessity for
for their self respect, and self respect is an
element in faithfnl service.
"When it is impossible to give each servant
a room, said the lady talking on the subject
not long ago, there should be large screens
provided separating the rooms, for it is every
human being's right to have one spot secure
from all intrnsion.
On the other hand, a cook on a rampage
will not be deterred for a moment by the
fact that she has an airy, sunny room, and
at her next place she may have to sleep in a
dark hole off the kitchen with the other
servants. At this moment a house in which
the servants are superbly lodged is in the
throes of a domestic cataclysm because the
cook insists on baking the fish without the
head and tail, and the mistress declares that
the servants are simply spoiled by good
treatment
WIDELT DIFFERENT IDEAS.
In servantdom, the conditions of living
are as widely diverse as between Eleventh
avenue and Fifth avenue, only in this case
the conditions of Eleventh avenue are found
as likely as not in Fifth. The housing of
servants in some of the crowded fashionable
boarding houses, and especially in English
basement houses, is nauseating. The top
floor is too valuable as rented space for ser
vants, so thev are sacked away in the base
ment. The basement of an English base
ment house is below the level of the street
and midway between the small front room
and the kitchen; the servants sleep in win
dowless rooms, and not infrequently have
folding beds in the kitchen a tact which is
discreetly kept from the boarders at break
fast In the new houses, those which represent
the latest and best things in architecture
and domestic luxury, the provision for
servants is in keeping with everything else.
The staff of servants is neoessarily large,
and of that class prepared to make de
mands. In the Villard house these
rooms were in the top of the house, a
formidable and unbroken partition separat
ing the men and maids. The rooms are
fitted in hard woods and tastefully fur
nished with furniture of light wood. Two
bath rooms, quite as comfortably appointed
as those of of the lower floor, made part of
the servants' suite.
In Mr. W. K. Vanderbilt's house the
social life of the servants has been consid
ered even luxurious. The basement is
theirs exclusively. The entrance is by a
special door. In front is a billiard room
for -the men and a parlor and sitting room
for the maids. Their sleeping rooms are in the
mansard. These are finished in hard wood
and attractively furnished. In the man
sard also is a large room given over for
their entertainment, where at times they
may hold a servants' ball.
ELEVATORS AND BATH ROOMS.
In Mr. Marquand'a house the humanities
are still further regarded. A servants' ele
vator extends from the basement to the liv
ing rooms on the top floor. Here they have
prettily appointed bed rooms and bathrooms
lined with enamel tiles ana answering to
the most scrupulous demands of cleanliness.
The housekeeper has here her suite of rooms,
including a parlor. The square hall in Mr.
Marquand'a house is carried to the roof, and
gives place on each floor to a balcony and
corridor. This is not omitted on the serv
ants' floor, where through perforated carv
ings they can look down on any gala scene
below. Another instance of Mr. Marqnand's
thoughtfulness is in a stairway leading to
the roof, which has been terraced. Here
in the cool nights, instead of hanging over
the area to catch a breath of air, the serv
ants ean sit and enjoy the famous southwest
wind that so seldom fails and look down on
the myriad-lighted town, a view in every
season full of beauty.
These, it must be confessed, are excep
tional provisions, and only possible in an
unusually large and specially constructed
house. The general standard of servants'
comfort, however, is higher. Many mis
tresses take pride in their servants' rooms
and make show places of them. In this
case the servants are obliged to keep them
tidy. I was in a servants' room the other
day in one of the magnificent apartments on
Central Park. A velvet carpet covered
the floor, and the furniture was in keeping.
This degree of luxury was merely incident
al. The tasteful but cheap ash bedroom
sets are chosen for servants' rooms, and the
clean and comely bedsteads of black enam
eled iron. Some mistress go further and
add book shelves and possibly a few books,
according to their zeal. The prints from
the illustrated papers and attractive supple
ments of the Graphic and Illustrated News
are saved for their adornment. Young
housekeepers particularly take delight in
giving their personal attention to establish
ing their servants. In this case their shock
at the ingratitude of a servant who walks off
in the midst of the ironing or dinner is pro
portionately great
APAKXStENT HOUSES.
The problem of servants is increased in
apartment nouses. In those houses in which
rents are over 51,000 a year the servants'
quarters are on the top floor. The rooms are
not large, but are well supplied with light
and air, not to speak of the more Ksthetic
aspect included in views and sunsets. In
the smaller apartment houses the servants'
rooms are diminutive holes on wells. No
ray of sun discovers them and the air is re
ceived from the basements, with such addi
tions as it collects from the inhabited rooms
on the way up to the roof. Often the effect
on the health is perceptible. In some
houses it is worse than others. A doctor
from Koosevelt Hospital not long ago said
of a certain apartment house that it always
furnished at least one hospital patient
"There is no use of my doing anything lor
von if-you go back there," he said to a ser
vant whom he had just repaired.
In the smaller apartments it is rarely nec
essary, and never convenient to keen more
than one servant The shifts to keep two
are sometimes ingenious and amusing. The
device of one mistress consisted of placing
two iron cot bedsteads one on top of the
other like steamer berths. One servant
crept in and the other mounted. They had
wire bottoms and nice clean mattresses, and
were in every way comfortable. A servant,
she said, at first objected, but finally oc
cepted them.
In apartment houses when the servants'
rooms are on the same floor with the family,
the life of the servant is so inextricably
tangled up with' that of the family that the
chances of friction are largely increased.
There is no servants' sitting room, and if
there were it would not only be disagreeable
but unsafe to have followers or even visitors
who wear bonnets and shawlsso near the
family rooms, as.they must bo in an apart
ment house. Whatever interferes with this
intercourse disturbs those amicable rela
tions which one would wish to preserve be
tween mistress and maids.
EVENINGS MUST BE FEEE...
&
Xt isidiffiealt'to akV,mitoweibelieve'
.nHitSrallttifcMlrivwteyMdfiwMil
1869.
questions that affeot domestic- service, the
maids have the rigbtof it At leastwhether
they have the right of it or not, the serious
differences that continually arise in private
households do not involve the matter of
lodgment or of hard work, but spring from
personal restraint and long hours. A servant
may be willing to sleep in a hole and be
without light and air, and to work like a
locomotive by day, but she wants her even
ings free. She cannot see when her work is
over why she should sit in an apartment
kitchen alone until bed time.
In France they manage the servant ques
tion better, at least in this respect. French
apartment houses are built around a court.
In what is called n. hotel bourgeois the
apartments are owned by those who live in
them, and the servants' lile is kept per
fectly distinct The servant's entrance is
by a private stairway in the rear of the
court The main apartment connects with
this division by a single door. When the
labor of the day is over this door is locked.
The servant cannot enter it, but the servant
is free. When she goes out and when she
comes in is of no consequence to anybody
but herself. This personal freedom is more
valued than wages. And it accounts (or
the fidelity and long service that French
servants give.
In the French apartments that are let the
servants' rooms are in the mansard. And
tbe results are not quite so admirable. Tbe
social qualities of tbe French are here un
loosed; the gossip of each family is private
property. Marketing in France, as every
one knows, is done by the servants, who
keep a book and each month receive their
commissions from the trades people. In
these servants' quarters there is a commu
nity of interests, and at the end of the
month the different commissions are appor
tioned equitably. This prevents peaching
on the part of some less fortunate servant in
a family inconveniently small or unwar
rantably economical,
ABSOLUTE AUTBOCBATS IN FEANCE.
Within their own apartments the servants
are absolutely free, and it would be a mis
tress ofcouragewho would endeavor to visit
them or assert any authority. The servant's
self respect would consider itself insulted,
and the proprietor of it would discharge
himself the next morning.
French servants in this country sometimes
enforce this rule on the mistresses. In the
W. K. Vanderbilt house the only staircase
from the first floor to the basement is throngh
the butler's pantry. Mrs. Vanderbilt short
ly after they went into the house told a Jen
man who is my informant that one day she
went down into her kitchen, and her French
chef told her if she repeated the offence he
would leave.
This is an extreme case, bnt it is true that
the great objection to domestic service by
the better and more intelligent class of girls
who work for a living is in the personal re
straints they are subjected to. Numerous
and reneated efforts have been made to in
duce girls who wore lor starvation wages in
factories to go into service. All objections
may be sifted down to two which are suffi
cient and reasonable.
The first is that the men whom they may
expect to marry will not visit them if they
live out The current phrase is, "A man
will not' marry me out of anybody's
kitchen." This puts the blame where it be
longs on the men. The desire of the girls
to marry and to marry men who desire to
better themselves in the world will not be
considered unreasonable. The girl may
consider household servicehonorable, but the
man does not
JIOEE FREEDOM NECESSARY.
If servants were allowed more freedom; if
a girl, when her worK was over, was free to
come and go as she liked, her contract with
her mistress having been fulfilled, men
would not have to seek them in somebody's
kitchen. In that case the objection to do
mestic service by the more capable of work
inir cirls .would be removed. With the
knowledge I have of working girls, of their
high principles, of their correct lives, of
their fidelity and devotion, I do not hesi
tate to say if these objections could be re
moved, if larger concessions were made, and
domestic service ranged more within the
provisions of other means of livelihood, this
class of girls would be more likely to enter
it and in that case the woes of mistresses
would be greatly lessened and the service
greatly improved.
Domestic service is so much in line with
the ultimate and hoped-for destination of
working cirls as wives and mothers that
there could be no better training than they
would receive in a well-conducted house
hold. If they could be led to regard it is a
training school for wives instead of a bar
rier to matrimony the intelligence offices
would be crowded wfth wide-awake, intelli
gent, clear-headed girls instead of by the
shiftless, slatternly ,and incompetent serv
ants that now, as every mistress will bear
me out, make up the largest part of that
company. Maby Gat Humphkevs.
A CEACKEB AMI SAM J0SES.
One of the Curious Experience in the Iter!
fallal's Cnreer a Belated by Himself.
Hctr York Evening Bnn.l
In conversation with I friend in this city
a few days ago with regard to curious ex
periences iu his career at a revivalist, Sam
Jones said the most humSrous incident oc
curred in a village in Georgia. "I had been
painting hell in all its vivkdness of color.all
its suggestions of ghastly significance and
shuddenngs, and then, by Vvay of contrast,
I pictured the delights of heaven as I un
derstood them. Having -Arought myaudi
ence up to the proper pitchXl thrust in my
sickle "to reap the harvestsin the follow
ing manner:
"'Now mv friends how 1 many of you
want to go to 'heaven? All that desire to sit
down in the beautiful mansions on high will
please stand up.' Nearly every person in
the house arose, and after they had resumed
their seats I asked if there Vvas anyone
present who expected to reach (the bottom
less pit For a moment no one stirred. Then
from a seat back near the door in old man,
tanned and weather-beaten, Evidently a
Georgia cracker, slowly arose and deliber
ately looked around over the auiience. He
was so clow inhismovementstbanby the time
he Had turned his face toward mi everyeye
in the house was upon him. IiA a curious
drawl, every accent of which wis plainly
audible to every one present, he saw: 'Wal,
parson, it looks ez if you an' I wasnhe only
ones goin'l
"Otcourse.thatfinishedmyworkthatnight
The angel Gabriel couldn't have stopped
thp rnnr nf Innchter which swent over that
audience like a cyclone, and I adjourned
the meetine as -Quickly as J. could wiin com
mon decency.
Bev. G. Washington Shortext I s'pects
dat if de debble was to Idok inter dat ar
Window an' shake n. hnc nh trnld at vo' nit.
gabs, da wouldn't be one ob yo'u but what
3)aS
$
A Sliehc misapprehension. J
FHOM A STAGE BOOfc
Shiiley Dare Reviews the Pasbion3
as Seen on Fifth Avenue.
LACE GOWKS, HATS AND PARASOLS.
White Bonnet3 All the Eage for Fetes,
Visits and Theater.
SOME ARSWEES TO ANX10U8 1NQUIEEBS
rWBITTEt TOB THI PISPATCH.J
The May weather is at its brightest, the
streets lined with flower sellers offering
heaps of mignonette and many-colored
roses, and the charm of the Spring City be
tween its rivers is at its best New Xork
might be, and will yet be, a veritable
pleasure city as much as Paris or Nice,
when its artistic element gains ascendency
and politics allow it to become the cleanest
city on the continent, as it ought to be.
A feature which strikes one from other
cities is the Fifth avenue stages, with seats
on the roof, filled with ladies and children,
riding up to Central Park and taking all
and sunlight possible on the way. A nar
row winding stair starts from the wide steps
at the back of the stage, so that it is per
fectly easy to ascend to the roof, where seats
very like school forms are ranged in rows,
taken by women who know the value of air
and sunshine. It is a very good place to
see the dress parade up the avenue, for two
miles and more, the wedding turnouts at the
churches, the fresh toilets just from the cus
tom house, and the picturesque houses near
the park wiiicli give a lovely half-foreign air
to the brown stone region. In the park
bright carriages are flashing down tbe
drives, the white collars and silver chains
adding to their brilliance, and the wide
lawns reach in fragrant greenness when
the oat thbojtq
passes the bust of Mazzini, the sad, forcible,
far-seeing face dreaming over against the
promenade and the peaceful meadows. The
fashions of the fair time are artistic and
captivating, a study of historic coquetries,
-refined and toned down, from the jaunty
chapeausand cocked hats in white straw
and moire ribbons to the vapory lace hats,
piled with white lilacs, and the pale, sum
mery toilets which make women appear
beautiful because their gowns ,are so. The
lace dress, the lace hat and parasol are the
toilet of the season, which makes any
woman attractive.
The straight gathered drapery of lace falls
over a close silk skirt, the fan waist or sur
plice waist, with its high ruff about the
neck, is only relieved by the na.row white
pearl edged ribbon tied ronnd the throat,
with a little bow in front, in place of collar
or rucne, tne same ribbon at tbe wrist witn
a little bow and ends falling out of the open
cuff. The dress is hardly complete without
the big sash of soft moire or the flots of
moire ribbon; the transparent hat is not
oyer large, the vapory plain black net being
preferred for its lightness of effect, shirred
on satin wires, and trimmed with flowers
veiled by cascades of lace.
TKE FINEST MILIJirEBT
artists aim at this effect of color toned
down by lace, which falls half over them,
and it is particularly softening to the com
plexion. The parasol is ot the same lace as
the dress, and its long slender handle is
dressed with ribbons like a shepherd's crook.
A bow at the top with rather long ends, one-
Halt way up tne nanaie, ana one on tne
large ring at the lower end are seen on
French sunshades of gathered silk-striped
net The fragrant cherry wood handles are
choice, but twisted silver seems to be the
rule.
Gracefullittle shoulder capes and panties
from the private modiste's are combinations
of silk crochet, the finest seed jet and lace,
airy enough to be no perceptible addition to
attire, while adding the needed lines of
drapery about the shoulders. Many eyes are
old-fashioneU and artistic enough to feel that
a woman who goes out in the street in a
close-fitting dress without the semblance of
a wrap, looks as If she had forgotten part of
her costume. The newest and best mantles
ore a deep, pointed collar or fichuof crochet
and fine beading, with fall of pleated lace
for a sleeve, and lace frilled deeply under
the border of rose-crochet Fine mantles fol
low the color of the costume, in bronze, gray
pearl, silver, bright steel and blue steel,
pale garnet to go with shades of old rose,
aud all crochet of fine tricot stitch to suit
the gobelin blues which do not take beading
well.
DRESS OF CEOCHET.
Long jersey-fitting bodices of crochet in
purse silk, with 'just enough beading to be
in fine taste, imported at 35 each, very
useful in adding richness to any black silk
dress, are among the standard pieces of the
toilet which never lose valne or seem out or
date, Different parts of the dres3 are made
in crochet, to give the fashionable puffs and
straps without cutting up the fabric of the
gown. Bich, plain black silks have Medici
collars and shoulder pieces in blact crochet.
the wide, flaring collar which lends becom
ingness to any sort of throat or age, stiffened
with fine satin wire inside. The shonlder
puff to the coat sleeve is of crochet, reach
ing nearly to the elbows: sometimes the
lower tight part .of the sleeve is crochet, a
fashion which skilled needlewomen may
adopt for themselves. The wide girdle or
stomacher is crochet, and rich fronts and
panels for the skirt are among the most dis
tingue ornaments.
The white bonnet will be high dress for
summer at fetes, visits and theaters. White
straw and crinoline together form the pret
tiest, most nseinl bonnets in fancy pokes
which shade the eyes a little. White striped
Bilk net and thenialines net, which dates its
revived favor from the Princess Beatrice's
wedding, make pretty hats, drawn on satin
wire, with the ever-present
WILD CLEMATIS
or white lilac for trimming. Elegant capotes
have the crown covered with a piece of
point lace, either point de gene or round
point laid in easy folds with a brim of fancy
straw braid and knot of rich ribbon and
aigrette, or a bandeau of fine flowers. The
flower capote in shaded violets, fresh as if
from the woods an honr before, has a curve
or two of point lace, and a tuft of flowers to
break its outline, but the high front trim
ming and tbe crowns loaded with a dozen
large rosebuds, are decidedly past style.
The newest monteurs copy the modest bril
liant Alpine blossoms from the flower
haunts of the Pyrenees. An exquisite wreath
of blue gentian with fine seeding grasses,
veronicas and speedwell, pink and white
myosotis, yellow hawkweeds and their
downy seed tufts with the grayish powdered
herbage of mountain sides are repeated ac
curately enough to delight a botanist Tufts
of golden green oats and grass with silvery
plumes half ripe, sprays of tender birch
leaves, newly untolded, or mountain laurel
offer (he cool, delighttul contrast desired
for snowy tulle, with crape embroidered
golden gleams.
POETIC CBEATIOHS.
-i ,nl unniA M.d.n nw,!n,Lm,n
fPlinnik m!11t..t A,A.l!.. .. fl ...1. -
irshe knew how to wear them. Bnt the
wJinp woman, somehow, nlmn.it alw.ivi nL
ihdle, and her pudgy hand crushes the crape
an(parnisnes tne tune wnicn surmounts ber
comvonplace' fate, and she wears it with a
broifte dress and amber-beaded, mantle
whicKmske one hot to look at One re
calls thd&irls in country churches, dressed
in white Jjuslm, gown and mantle, with
almond bl&n faces and blue eyes looking
out. from tnewhite tulle bonnets which
never lost theisYreshness with cool, careful
handling. TbeSi knew how to dress in
white, as sometwes one sees a lady at a
earden party, a -
an witn an instinct tor
the fitness of XU
gs, It 13 no use to say
worn with anything-- .
''white, bonnets
That does not aid
the fitness of the matter.
.Grthedwpl
to a sensitive jsyeji.A.1
and becoming. Orthe toilet may be black
and white, or gray and white, when the bon
net will harmonize. A black Iwe or silk
gown of good quality, a fichu or small map
of China crape and bonnet of white crino
line straw trimmed with crape lisse, fine
pearl-edged ribbon and aigrettes would be
in subdued good style anywhere.
A FEW TOrXTZBS.
I P. V. can cleanse her fine all-wool whiu
sntt at home, but bad better rip the belt off the
skirt and take out tbe drapery, as it cannot be
pressed well without Wash In the purest soft
water, blood warm, and plenty of it, making a
lather of fine borax soap or white toilet soap,
leaving the soap in the waterwbila wasMnetha
dress, so that as tbe soiled goods take np tho
alkali more may be dissolved for use. wash in
sads twice, quickly, with the hands, not rubbing
on a wathboard, and rinse fn weak suds with a
little blneine in the water. Dry' In tho had
and IroD, while damp, on tha wronR side. II
cashmere on the right, if flannel or serge, using
clean sheets and heavy hot irons. B. li C To
ourl bangs without making them, fuzzy or
fluffy, wltnbnt a hot iron, and to make tbem UiJ
in rings, use tbe Montague halrcnrlers. found
at any good fancy store. The best way, how
ever, is to fold the rings of hair in tissue paper
and pinch witn curling tongs.
BlondeIonoramus Around-faced, young
looking, ashey blonde of SO may choose for ber
all summer hat to go with all sorts of salts,
capote of black lace with transparent crown,
and brim ot one row of fancy braid, with soft,
satin-striped ribbon laid in flat scant foldings
above the brim. Cover tbe wire crown with
clear black net and gatber black lace a finger
wide on this, either two rows ronnd tho crown
or lengthwise across it, with a knot of fivo
loops ami three notched ends of ribbon at tho
back or near the top of the crown, and anarrow
wreath of line pink forgetmenots just under
the lower lace, and a pleating of black crape
lisse, or black lacs under the brim, relieving
the light hair. Black ribbon, with narrow dark,
gav stripes is artistic and suits snch a bonnet
well. Or a smalt poke of crinoline straw, the
brim lined with black lace, tbe crown trimmed
black lisse, embroidered In silver, black tulle
scarf and nnets of two shades, or gentians. Or
the same bonnet with white and silver nbbon.
black lace and aigrette of pale green and gold
oats.
FOB A COFFEE PABT5T.
to be given 30 gnests In June, send the parch
ment paper, correspondence cards, with design
of coffee service in pen and ink, and written
noto requesting the pleasure of your friends'
company such a date, adding simply "coffee
from 4 to 6 o'clock," or the hours you choose.
Serve coffee in the back parlor, having a table
with drawn and embroidered damask cloth,
coffee service, cups, baskets of wafers, thin
bread and butter, crisp coffee rolls and rusks,
small cakes and strawberries, witn or without
ice cream, as vou like. Tbe wildest variety of
crisp cakes is'in place at a "coffee" party. Tha
German "coffee' afternoons is hardly com
plete without a dark-spiced, crusty-loaf cake,
having plenty of plums, or a sort of cake sand
wich, slices of cake thickly spread with jam
and laid together. The newest coffee service
in silver has the tall, straight French coffee
pot, either In rich repousse cover and top, or
plain, burnished with an embossed band near
the top and straight, stump handle or
cocoa wood, ivory or amber, low sugar
bowl and slender cream jug. The newest table
linen for these parties is plain damask twill, or
flnemomie linen, embroidered in clematis or
hydrangea patterns with pale yellow centers
to flowers, above drawn work borders, an
eighth of a yard deep, above the inch wide
hems. Sets of these cloths with IS napkins to
correspond are $17 up. The point lace cake
napkins and dovleys are new this season, and
cost H each and upward. The hostess receives
in tbe front drawing room, chats with guests,
and asks them to have coffee not "will yon
have a cup of coffee or tea," or "some coffee,"
as that is not felt in good form by sensitive peo
ple. A friend usually pre sides over the coffee,
or a servant in trala dress hands it and the
cakes, while ladies sip coffee standing or sit
ting, and gossip. It is very nice to serve coffee
in a cool, wide porch corner, screened by awn
ing on two sides, making a half garden party.
A EE31EDY FOB A BED FACE.
Readeh Bedness and flushing in summer
and plethoria may be reduced by using Carls
bad salts, Vichy water, seltzer aperient or Con
gress water mornings, cool sponge baths, wear
ing linen next to the skin and dressing lightly,
using acid vegetable drinks at meals, lemonade
or grape juice, and hard, whole meal crackers
in place of bread. Attention to diet and per
sonal habits, bathing, etc, must be rigid, as
flashing and plethora are forerunners of
serious apoplectic and paralytic troubles.
The lady who inquires for a good steamer
dreM and traveling salt for the continent is
advised to have a good black American silk,
with plain skirt and surplice waist, and FfeaO.'
polonaise ot fine black wool. India twin or
batiste with embroidery trimming. This with
a white lace collarette or black lace one, rests
and surah blouses will give variety enough for
the tour and a pleasant change at the hotels.
Blue black, slate gray or deep green may be
chosen for similar costumes, but black is al
ways ladylike and sate. Shiriey Bask
A3 NEGK0 JIINSTKELS.
The Time When Booth and Jefferson Cted
Burnt Cork.
Harper's Magazine.
In 1850, when Mr. Edwin Booth was 17,
and a year after his debut as Tressel at the
Boston Museum, he gave an entertainment
with Mr. John S. Clarke, a youth of the
same age, at the court house in Bellair,
Md. They read selections from "Bich
elieu," "The Stranger," and the quar
rel scene irom "Julius Casar," singing
during the evening with blackened faces a
number of negro melodies, "using appro
priate dialogue," as Mrs. Asia Booth
Clarke records in the memoirs of her brother,
"and accompanying their vocal attempts
with the somewhat inharmonious banjo and
bones." Mrs. Clarke reprints the pro
gramme of thisperformance,and pictures the
distress of the young tragedians when they
discovered, on arriving in the town, that the
Simon Pure negro they had employed as an
advance agent had in every instance posted
their bills upside down.
Mr. Joseph Jefferson, the third and pres
ent bearer of that honored name, was un
questionably the youngest actor who ever
made his mark with a piece of burnt cork.
The story of his first appearance is told by
Mr. William Winter in his volume entitled
"The Jeffersons." Coming from a family of
actors, the boy, as was natural, was reared
amidst theatrical surroundings, and when
only 4 years of age in 1833 he was brought
upon tbe stage by Thomas D. Bice himself,
on a benefit occasion at the Washington
Theater. The little Joe. blackened and ar
rayed precisely like his senior, was carried
on to the stage in a bag upon tbe shoulders
of the shambling Ethiopian, and emptied
from it with the appropriate couplet,
Ladies and gentlemen, I'd have you for to
know, .
l's got a little darky here to j amp Jim Crow.
Mrs. John Drew, who was present, says that t
tbe boy instantly assumed the exact atti
tude oi Jim Crow Bice, and sang and danced
in imitation of his sable companion, a per
fect miniature likeness of that long, un
gainly, grotesque and exceedingly droll
comedian.
TELL TALE TD5E3.
Hovr a Maine Carpenter Hlrei HlsSIen by
Music.
Lewlston Journal.!
A boss carpenter in Maine had one ques
tion which he always asked of journeymen
who applied to be taken into his employ.
Ii the applicant was found to possess all
the other necessary qualifications, the
"boo" would ask him:
"What are your favorite tunes?"
"Why, what do you want to know that
for?"
"You whistle and sing some at your work,
don't you?"
"Oh, yes."
"Well, what tunes do you generally
whistle or sing?"
"Ob, there's 'Old Hundred,' and Auld -5
Lang Syne' and 'Down by the Weeping V.
Willows' and" . '
iTli.i'...nit1, t. Kma Trnnlri exclaim.
AMMV BUWUKU. ... .W. "
"xon won't do lor me. jloo siuw,
them
tunes be-. Good-day!"
pipe, or something
penter would savat once:
"I think you'll dol Takeoff your coat if
you want to and gd to work."
Anecdote or Brotu. "
Harper's lt?lne.J j'ujL
It is related ot Brutus thatwh'cafhoread
Mark Antony's v fnajialoMiUoafovethe
bdy ofiCsssaubjB rejMKfcedjatmplBoas
ifiKM ;!
On the contrary if the applicant answered.
"Oh, I generally whistle '1'ankee Doodle,'
or 'Money Musk," or The Fisher's Horn-
oitnatson, tne car-
K&eWgW; JHfge.
wma