DEMOREST’S

RUSSIAN HOME INDUSTRIES.

DI VERSE indeed are the types of humanity which comprise the White Czar’s Empire, at once the largest stretch of territory under one fl ag upon the

globe's surface, and the most complex in its varieties of pict­uresque peasant life, Circassian, Tartar, Cossack, all being welded by the cumbrous, antiquated machinery of the Rus­sian Government into a cosmopolitan mass, a task which it may take ages to accomplish.

Russia herself must become Cossack first, or something definite, before one can speak of Europe being Cossack-ized ; and she has an abundance of work before her in working out her own destiny within the limit of her almost boundless empire. Evidence of the number of types existing in the Russias is found in the variety of costumes worn by the in­habitants of different sections. Many different styles were shown in the collection of models sent by the Russian Gov­ernment to the Chicago Exposition ; a number of these are shown in our illustration.

The production of the materials and the processes by which these costumes are made bring us at once to the question of Russian home industries. Between the Russia of St. Peters­burg and the leading cities and the life in isolated villages of her steppes there is a difference of almost centuries in civili­zation. In the cities there are hundreds of factories with big, sooty chimneys and modern machinery, although, even there, a great deal of weaving, spinning, and similar work is done by hand; it is in the interior that one finds things archaic, picturesque, and truly primitive. It is in quaint villages, among still quainter people, that the curious and clever hand-work of the Russian peasant, so much admired wherever it has been exhibited, is being produced, under social and climatic conditions which seem to indicate that these industries will flourish for a long time yet in competi­tion with the cheaper and less durable products of the factory looms. It is there that the distaff and bobbin ply cease­lessly in busy hands through the short days and long nights of the winter season, the entire energies of the family being devoted during the short summer to agricultural pursuits and those cruder arts which supply the elementary necessities of the human creature, such as making bread and the ordinary household duties.

In the work of the farm the women take equal part with the men, even guiding the plow (as shown in the illustration of costumes) and helping with the harvest. In fact, they do

all they can to assist in planting and reaping the crops of maize, millet, wheat, rye, or flax that are cultivated during the brief and almost torrid summer ; but working with primi­tive tools, as they do, the Russian peasants find it a very arduous task to obtain a profitable return from their holdings.

The crops ripen very fast when the warm weather sets in, the hay being harvested first. Although rather coarse, the grass of the steppes is luxuriant, and furnishes the staple diet of the cattle during the winter. Before the hottest weather is reached the haymakers have succeeded in harvesting the crop, which is stored safely in the barns for the winter. The grass harvest has not long been finished before the rye, first of the cereal crops to ripen, begins to bleach under the scorch­ing sun, and falls a victim, first to the reaper and then to the thresher, who performs the duty with a flail modeled on much the same plan as those in use from the earliest times.

Whilst the senior members of the family are away in the fields, busy plowing, seeding, or reaping, the younger chil­dren are left at home to attend to the babies. Rather solemn little creatures these Russian children seem, after the vivacity of the American specimens; but life is a serious matter with the Russian peasants, young or old, for their isolated lives give them fewer subjects to think upon, and the current of their thoughts therefore runs more deeply.

The children also have to carry water from the stream for the daily use of the household, and to the fields for the workers. The older members of the family, too aged or weak for outdoor work, remain at home with the young children.

Before starting out for the day's labor the first meal of the day is partaken of by the family. It consists, almost invari­ably, of very coarse, dark brown rye bread, and gruel made from buckwheat groats. The only variation at the evening meal is that a soup made of sour cabbage and flavored with salt is substituted for the gruel.

But, one naturally asks, why this abstemiousness of the Russian peasant when he raises fine cattle, producing meat, milk, cheese, and butter ; fowls, producing eggs ; and wheat or maize which will give him all the white bread or corn-cake that he needs ?

The answer is : In order to pay his taxes, not only all the products of his farm beyond the barest necessities have to go to market, but also those of the long winter’s labor in mak­ing the choicest laces and embroideries and in spinning and

FAMILY MAGAZINE.No. CCCLXXI. M A Y, 1894. Vol. XXX., No. 7 .

386 DEMOREST'S FAMIL Y MAGAZINE.

w eav in g , fo r otherw ise the governm ent w ou ld not get its apportioned share.

Since the abolition o f serfdom in 1860, the Russian v illage is run strictly upon fam ily and com m unity principles. Each fam ily h as its ho ld ing , graded and taxed according to its labor capacity, and the taxes are collected from the village in a g ross sum , instead o f from each peasant proprietor individu­a lly . T h e fam ily itself does not separate until the death o f the father, the sons w h o m arry b rin g ing their w ives home to the paternal roof, w here they remain until the eldest becomes

w ith their husbands' fam ilies, a proceeding w h ich is gen er­a lly frau gh t w ith a good deal o f discom fort to the bride u n ­less she chances to have found an am iable m other-in -law . T h is deity m ay sometimes be propitiated by the cleverness o f the g irl, w h o m ay be exceedingly sk illfu l in housekeeping, or an expert at spinning, em broidering, o r som ething that w ill serve to render her u sefu l to h er h u sban d ’s fam ily and a desirable m em ber thereof.

W h e n the long, hard w inter has finally set in, the season o f home m anufacturing commences in earnest, and the cabin

DOLLS DRESSED IN R U SSIA N COSTUMES.

1. Peasant W om an o f the Province o f Moscow. 2 and 8. Peasants o f Jaroslavl. 4. Peasant Woman of Southern Russia. 5. Peasant of the Province o f Moscow. 6. W om an o f the Province o f N ijn i-Novgorod. 7. A Moscow Driver. 8. Peasant of Kastroma. 9 and 10. Peasants of Central Russia. 11 and 12. Noblewom en o f the 17th Century. 13. Peasant o f Central Russia. 14. Peasant Woman of the Province of Novgorod. 15. Peasant o f Southern Russia.

head of the family and the other brothers set up housekeep­ing for themselves.

The great event of a Russian peasant-woman’s life is her marriage. This ceremony plays such an important part in the affairs of the Russian peasant that it overshadows all other domestic matters. The weddings take place after har­vest is over and before winter commences, each village gen­erally having several on hand, the festivities occupying most of the time of the prospective brides and grooms and their friends. By the time the weddings are over and the majority of the villagers bankrupted on account of the extravagance, threatening skies announce the advent of frost and snow, and the newly made brides prepare to domesticate themselves

or cottage of the Russian peasant becomes a scene of busy industry. It may be well here to describe the dwelling of the ordinary peasant, for a comprehension of the environment of the home industries may serve to make the subject clearer to the American reader. It will also help enlighten Americans as to why the Russian emigrant in this country is satisfied with such small quarters.

Under the same roof which shelters the family, the cattle and other denizens of the barnyard are also housed, a contin­uous roof of thatch usually extending over both house and yard. The relations between the stockyard and house are so intimate that at times, when the weather is particularly severe, or a suckling calf may be ailing, it is brought into the

DEM O REST’S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E . 387

house to share the only apart­ment with the family. The rear part of the house is par­tially occupied by a large stove in which a fire burns continuously for eight months of the year. The stove is arranged somewhat like a baker’s oven. The fire is lit in the morning, and after two or three hours, when the wood is reduced to coals, the flue-plate, or damper, is shut; the brick walls being very thick, the oven remains warm until the next day, when the fire is lit again.

This stove serves every purpose of the household, even supplying comfortable sleeping-quarters on top for the old people, who cannot MAKING BREAD.

articles which have found their way there from the homes of wealthier neighbors. In the corner opposite the door you find, invariably, a corner cabinet filled with holy images, often covered with silver and pearls. A few tapers which have served at the wedding of the hostess at church, a couple of palm branches, and a towel are usually there also ; and a tiny lamp with olive-oil, lit only on the eve of a holy day, or in case of sickness or storm, hangs before the holy image.

The p r i m a r y step, or groundwork, in all the cot­tage industries is, necessarily, the spinning of the thread, either silk, wool, or lin en ;

and as the spinning-wheel has not yet found its way very extensively among the peasantry, the thread is spun by hand from the distaff, which forms an indispensable part of almost every Russian peasant woman’s possessions. It is an undisputed fact that lace made from the handspun thread has a far richer appearance than any other. W hen the thread has been prepared the hand-loom has to be called into requisition ; and as most of these in the possession of the peasantry are built very small, the stuffs woven upon them are usually made in narrow widths.

On the hand-loom the Russian woman manufactures all kinds of linen and woolen cloths for the different purposes of the family, and also for sale to those who market these

HAYMAKING.

stand the cold so well as the younger folks. The rest of the family pack themselves away at bedtime in a gallery which runs across the rear of the apartment, above the stove, the children occupying one end, the seniors the other. In some sections an innovation has been made by inserting board partitions in the balcony, thus giving more privacy to the sleeping-quarters of the different members of the family. On Saturday, all the members of the family crawl into the oven in turn and have a good wash, using a little home-made wooden tub, and a bundle of birch twigs. An abundant supply of the latter is gathered during the spring, while the leaves of the birch are green and fragrant.

The furniture of the house is usually very meager, con­sisting of home-made benches and tables, and a variety of GLEANING RYE.

388 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

T H R E S H IN G .

commodities in the larger cities, w here the sterling quality of the goods is duly appreciated. After dyeing the thread with vegetable dyes of her own manufacture, she makes gayly colored linen cloths that are strong and neat-looking, for house garments ; and of this her invariable saraphan is almost certain to be made, unless she has, in order to turn a corner sharply, bought some cheap calico instead, and sent her own good wares to market. Handkerchiefs, towels, and other household requisites are made from the same material.

Next in importance comes the spinning of homespun cloths from the wool of the goat and sheep, to be made into caftans and various gar­ments, according to the fash­ion of the locality where the w e a v e r s reside. These homespuns are so strongly made that they last many years, and some of them are very dainty in appearance; dress materials of the pure goat’s wool being produced which vie with the finished products of the steam loom in appearance, and far excel them in durability. These fabrics are all c a r e f u l l y washed and shrunk after be­ing manufactured; they are carried down to the brook or river beside which the vil­

lage is sure to be built, and there thoroughly soaked and cleansed, to save bringing the water to the house for the purpose.

Next to the coarser manufactures of the cottage artisans, which are naturally prompted largely by their own necessi­ties, one of the most interesting branches of their work is the lace industry, which is one of the oldest in the country. The principal provinces in which it flourishes are Vologda, Tamboff, Rjasan, and Kazan, for bobbin and needle lace, and Orenburg, Penza, and Kazan for the wool-lace industry. The wool-lace

TO O Y O U N G O R T O O F E E B L E T O W O R K .

product is unsurpassed for delicacy and b e a u t y , the shaw ls being made from the wool of the Orenburg goat, the raising of which, in it­self, constitutes a very con­siderable i n d u s t r y . A l­though this animal has been bred in Orenburg for centu­ries, its ancestors originally came from Thibet. By great care and selection the Rus­sian variety of this goat has been very much improved, and the excellence of its wool is remarkable. The herds are r a i s e d on the steppes in the province of Orenburg, and from there the wool is exported to the other centers of the lace in- dustry.

In preparing the wool the long hairs are first picked out and thrown away, the soft undergrowth of fu r next to the skin being all that is available for use. The card­ing of this wool is the hard­est part of the industry, and often causes the hands of theCARRYING W ATER.

D E M O R E S T 'S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E . 3 8 9

operators to bleed. After being carded the wool is spun, without a wheel, a simple distaff being used, and then made three-ply by twisting. The thread is then knitted on two steel knitting- needles. At this industry R u s s i a n women often work patiently all day long for the meager pittance of live cents ; the work is marvelously fine, the de­signs being copied, sometimes, from the frost on the window-pane, and at others, from antiques so old that their origin cannot be traced. The shawls, so ex­quisitely fine that three of them can be drawn through a finger-ring, are worn in the Oriental style, displaying the graceful folds of drapery ; and the na­tive women have a fashion of arranging them to form a filmy veil which en­velops the head, the rest of the shawl being doubled in many folds as it is placed upon the shoulders. This indus­try was started by the Cossack women in the province of Orenburg. W IN T E R SCENE IN A R U S S IAN V IL L A G E .

A CO TTAG E IN N O R T H E R N R U SSIA .

The largest goat’s-down shawl in the world was made for the Columbian Exposition by Mavra Archipoff, a woman of Penza. It covers forty-nine square yards, has twelve million stitches in it, and weighs only eight and a half ounces. This worthy woman introduced the industry in Penza some twenty years ago, and employs now over fifty women knitters. A great many shawls of the finest quality are made in the prov­ince of Kazan.

The making of linen and silk lace also constitutes a most important home industry. These are made either with bobbin and pillow or with the needle, the latter being the most expensive process. Children commence to learn lace­making at the age of six or seven years, and all the sim­plest patterns are made by them. As soon as a child has become thoroughly familiar with one pattern it is taught another, and the designs, mostly mediaeval, have been handed down from generation to generation. Russian lace somewhat resembles the Maltese, and some beautiful results are ob­tained in it by weaving threads of gold among the silk or linen threads. In Russian drawn-work some very handsome results are achieved ; it is quite unlike the well-known Spanish work, being closely overlaid with embroidered de­signs. One handsome toilet-table cover has the effect of

tan, which in the case of the peas­ant is of c o m m o n s he ep or wolf s k i n t h a t has been tanned or dressed, at the little tannery of the village, and serves as a rough c l o a k f o r general use. T h e finer furs, those of the bear, sable, fox, m u s k r a t , and others. SPINNING.

gray lace with white flowers tied upon it by golden threads, and the border is pow­dered all over with daisies. Some of the designs in this work are particularly beau­tiful ; it is principally used in making tea- cloths, scarfs, and handkerchiefs. The Russian linen embroidery is sometimes simply made on plain linen, and at others it is combined with drawn-work.

To mention Russian cottage industries without alluding to furs would be Tike leaving the long, snow-bound winter out of the Russian calendar. Every man, woman, and child in Russia is equipped with a fur garment, usually a simple caf-

390 D E M O R E S T ’S F A M I L Y M A G A Z IN E .

CARRYING CLOTH TO THE R IVER TO SH RINK IT.

W EAVING .

are dressed principally in the towns ; they are usually mar­keted at the large semi-annual fairs, and for this purpose are sewed together into square pieces, from which the tailor eventually cuts his garments.In this industry men are oftener e m p l o y e d than women.

Having made her home- spun cloth or linen the Rus­sian housewife does not con­sider her duty by any means ended, for she has next to manufacture it into garments adapted to the requirements of her family. The two prin­cipal and almost universal garments of the Russian peas- antry are the caftan and thesaraphan ; the former a sort of ulster-shaped cloak or coat, and the latter a woman’s garment, a long skirt reaching to the armpits, finished with a narrow binding, and sup­ported over the shoulders by means of linen straps which cross each other at the back, like suspenders. W ith the saraphan is worn a white linen shirt, embroidered in colors, which reaches up to the neck, and extends beneath the outer garment.

The different tribes living amongst the Russian peas­ants, as the Tartars, Chuvash, Tcheremiss, and others, have kept their own costumes ; some of them are very pictur- esque. The Chuvash costume, for instance, has each seam ornamented with embroidery, the ornament following the line of construction. It is one of the best costumes for rough wear ever made, being of fine homespun linen lined through­out with the same material of a coarser quality. It is an every­day suit, and made for wear and tear. The embroidery is of silk in varied stitches, elaborately finished, the hem being embroidered green next to the white linen, and bordered with a broad band of red having black edges. As the sleeves are embroidered with red, green, and black, the white linen is thrown into strong relief and looks almost dazzling. The designs of the embroidery are usually of ecclesiastical patterns.

In the products of the Russian woman’s handicraft colors form a very important part ; and if nothing else betrayed

the Oriental cast o f the Cossacks it might be found in the gorgeous hues of their garments. Their costumes vary ac- cording to the district in which they reside, some of those in eastern Siberia being very similar to Chinese in color and pattern, others in Oukrania showing the more glaring and distinctive effects of the Tartar taste. The colors woven or stitched by these patient workers are symbolic of religious devotion, often but dimly understood by some who use them but evidencing the piety of those by whom they were origi- nated in times so far distant that their beginnings cannot be traced. The principal of these symbolic colors are red and gold ; the former expressing “ W e invoke thy protection, O Lord,” and the latter, “ Glory to God.” They correspond to the meaning of the same colors in Byzantine illumination. The more complex developments result from a fusion of Christianity with Greek thought and Asiatic love of color, acted upon by local environments.

Until recent times the convents were the sole fosterers of the handicrafts and art industries of Russia, the proud aris­tocrats taking no notice of the domestic affairs of the poor.

The nuns taught the peas­antry how to draw, paint, weave, and embroider, be­sides many other u s e f u l crafts ; and in the churches of Russia may be found price­less heirlooms, pious tributes of the labor of the peasantry and the nuns. Occasionally some devout noblewoman, fond of art, contributes a valuable specimen o f her skill to the church. The church door, chair, and other eccle­siastical articles shown in the illustration were the de­signs and workm anship of Russian ladies. The door was designed for a convent by Mine. Dournovo. The

LACE-M AKERS IN A TO W N .

D E M O R E S T 'S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E . 391

O R E N B U R G L A C E S H A W L S .

ornamentation is of antique metal work, called basm a, and antique enamelled bronze, lying upon a background of gilt lace.

The Princess M. Schahovskoy is warmly interested in bringing the attention of Americans to the cottage industries of Russia, and has sent over a valuable collection of antiques and examples of current work for exhibition, so that an idea can be formed of the skill of her countrywomen. Of late years the upper classes have taken some interest in the affairs of the peasantry, and schools for the instruction of girls have been started which are doing excellent service. Some of these schools are under the patronage of the Czarina. An illustration on page 393 shows novices learning to em­broider at one of the institutions.

The greatest living authority on Russian antiques, Mme. W . L. Shabelsky, a member of the Imperial Russian Histor­ical Museum, possesses the finest collection of them extant. As in Japan, there has lately been in Russia a revival of national feeling, opposed to the cosmopolitan tendencies of other nations, and Mme. Shabelsky has taken the lead in her special department. Her collection contains more than four thousand five hundred separate articles, some of which are specimens of Russian peasant handicraft dating from the tenth century. Mmes. Mamontoff and Kaznacheef superin­tended the preparation of the doll collection for the Colum­bian Exposition. The dolls were made by hand, with most primitive instruments, and some of them specially represent a type of Russian life, while others serve only to show the costume. Those representing peasants employed in the work of the farm, which are shown in the foreground of

D O IN G L IN E N D R A W N -W O R K .

the picture, were executed under their instructions, and are true to life.

In the more antique Russian costumes there is much picturesqueness, real silver and gold threads being used for the em­broidery, and silk of the richest kind forming the background. There was a costume of this kind exhibited at the Chicago Exposition which was the pre­cious heirloom of a Novgorod peasant, and was two hundred years old.

It is a noteworthy fact that, poor as the Russian p e a s a n t s may be, and wretched their dwelling accommodations, they wear garments of such quality as would be beyond the reach of the masses in this country, so rich are the materials and so elaborate the workmanship which they bestow upon them.

Several Russian ladies of prominence have interested themselves during the last few years in the higher grades of needlework produced by the peasant women; and a classification has been made of the different forms of art to which they variously adhere in their

t o w e l o r n a m e n t e d w i t h d r a w n -w o r k a n d g o l d a n d s i l v e r e m b r o i d e r y . s e v e n t e e n t h

CENTURY DESIGN.

392 D E M O R EST ’S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E .

s e w i n g F U R .

designs, together with an analysis of the origin and devel­opment of the forms, which supplies a most interesting study to the antiquarian. The Princess Schahovskoy has done a great deal to further the development of cottage industries in Russia, with a view to keeping the women at home and to prevent the factory system gaining ground. She first taught a few pupils the art of weaving in colors, and presented them with looms which enabled them to compete with any work done in the East. Her pupils then taught others, and these spread the art still further, until the homespun cloth industry is fast becoming an important feature.

The leather work of the Tartar women deserves mention among the prominent industries of the Russian peasantry. In appearance it resembles a mosaic rather than applique work, and is composed of sections of different colored morocco pieced together by a p e c u l i a r corded stitch which imparts to the material ex­traordinary durability. The skins are dyed separately in colors, such as blue, red, brown, or cream, and the sections are then cut in geometrical des i gns .Boots, slippers, and cushions are made in the same kind of work.

The universal use of the cap, known as the ermolka, by Mohammedan men, who, on account of their religion, have shaven heads and constantly wear the ermolka, keeps the manufacture of them active at all times. They are of the same shape as a smoking-cap, and are of leather or velvet, embroidered accord­ing to the quality.

The birch-bark baskets, cabinets, shoes, and other articles manufactured by the Russian peasants are principally the work of old men too feeble to be of service in more active pursuits, but who, nevertheless, make good use of their time in this direction. The bark from which these articles are

made is the inner skin of the Russian birch-tree, common in almost all parts of the Empire. It is gathered spring and fall, and the process is a very simple one. An incision is first made around the trunk of the tree, and the peasants have a knack of tearing or unwinding the bark from the starting point, which gives them a strip of even width that they wind into a ball and keep through the winter until it is dry enough to use ; it is then made into shoes, baskets, and other useful articles. The bark shoes are universally worn by the Russian peasantry. Other shoes used in winter are made of sheep’s wool ; these are manufactured by itinerant cobblers who travel from house to house, using the peas­ants’ own materials.

Another important industry is the lacquered woodwork, consisting of bowls, canisters, spoons, and other small domestic articles. This ware is made by the process of hand turning, from the wood of the aspen-tree, which is soft, tough, light, and well suited for the purpose. The lacquer­ing process is similar to that common in Japan ; and after the ware has been submitted to seven different dressings and bakings in the oven it is painted over by hand in designs of gold and black upon the red surface of the ware, the inside of the articles sometimes being lined with a kind of tin-foil. This industry is carried on principally in the provinces of Novgorod and Nijni-Novgorod.

The community system which prevails in Russia seems to be conducive to sociability, for the peasants lighten and vary the tedium of the labor performed, by the system of social gatherings prevalent among them. These take place at night, after supper has been eaten and the last duty per­formed, which consists in feeding the cattle. After night­

fall, all the household tasks having been finished, with the long evening of seven or eight hours before them, grown members of the various families which constitute the village meet at the house of one of the number, to work together. Each one brings his or her contribution of candle and food,

S P IN N IN G A N D L A C E -M A K IN G . P E A S A N T S ’ G A L A CO STU M ES.

DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 393

young woman w ho has been recently married and whose mother-in-law has shown a pronounced aversion for her. The birchwood splinter was used at one time for lighting the house at n ight; a long block of birchwood split into lengths, like laths, after having been dried in the oven was stuck into an iron holder, standing upon the floor, and was then ignited. This splinter caused endless trouble, having to be snuffed and renewed frequently, and when wet it burned so badly that it was difficult to work by its light.

TH E BIRCHW OOD SPLINTER .

“ My dear birchwood splinter,W hy don’t you burn brightly ?Or, maybe, you have not been in the

oven ? ”" I have been in the oven all last

night,But the wicked mother-in-law crept

into the oven;She crept into it to put a pan of

water,And drenched me all over with

water.”

The melodies of these songs have all of them a plaintive, minor key, which speaks more eloquently than words of the hardships and long-suffering of the people. The voices of both men and women are as a rule singularly sweet and sympathetic ; in their choruses they blend with the most felicitous harmony, and every kind of labor has its special songs.

Some benevolent ladies are endeavor­ing to assist the peasants by placing their commodities in the various m ar­kets of the world, thus protecting them from the grasping proclivities

and the evening passes, pleasantly, all the distaffs being busily worked, while songs and conversation enliven the tedi­ous toil until midnight, when the gathering breaks up and they disperse to their homes.

In mentioning the home industries of the Russian peasant it would be a serious omission not to allude to the folk-songs with which they enliven almost all their labors either at home or in the fields. These portray a tender-hearted and simple people, referring principally to the surroundings and occupations of their daily lives. W e borrow from Mme. Lineff's excellent collection of translations of the folk-songs a couple of the most characteristic.

THE GREEN FOREST.

The green forest roared the whole livelong night,And I, poor young maiden ! did not shut an eye ;I dreamt hot, I slept not, I sat up and spun ;And while I was spinning, so lazy I felt,—I felt very tired, with grief overcome.I had been invited to come to a feast,To come to a wedding, my false lover’s own.My lover was handsome, so curly and fair,The horse that he mounted went proudly along.

Another short song, called " The Birchwood Splinter, ” is a great favorite with the women when they are employed with needle or loom. It refers to the unfortunate position of a

ECCLESIASTICAL DECORATIONS.

NOVICES LEARNING TO EMBROIDER.

394 D E M O R E S T ’S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E .

of the middlemen who travel from village to village buying the various manufactured articles, and who are rarely will-

ing to transact business without reserving a usurious margin of profit for themselves.*

A r t h u r F i e l d .

Our Baby Prize.I n c l u d i n g the two pages of portraits given in this

number we have published seventeen hundred and eight pictures of the competitors for our prize of $50

which is to be given to the baby who shall be adjudged the prettiest by the votes of our subscribers. Those which are to follow also include some very charming specimens of baby beauty ; and the entire collection is a most unique and remarkable one. The remainder of the portraits will be published in the June number, when every subscriber will be allowed a vote, and the baby receiving the greatest num­ber of votes will receive the prize.

Tell your friends that if they wish to have the most remarkable collection of portraits of beautiful babies ever published, they should get the last December and the suc­ceeding numbers of D e m o r e s t 's M a g a z in e ; or, better still, tell them to subscribe for it and they will receive a Maga­zine that during 1894 will eclipse anything that has been before accomplished in the field of periodicals.

* Thanks are due to Mme. A. L. Pogosky, manager of the exhibition of Russian Cottage Industries in New York, for photographs and many courtesies.

A Remarkable Portrait Album.new feature which we introduced in the April

number of the Magazine, two pages of handsomely executed portraits of famous men and women, and

which we shall continue as a regular and permanent thing, furnishing every month eight portraits of uniform size reproduced from the very best originals extant, in the highest style of art, and printed upon the finest paper, will be of exceptional interest to our readers, besides being peculiarly valuable. A collection of portraits of the world’s leading celebrities can be made from this source, the value of which it would be difficult to estimate, and which could not be procured in any other way unless at great expense. This unique portrait gallery will include celebrities of all classes and all eras, as well as persons of the present time who are conspicuous or prominent for any special reason, thus making it peculiarly valuable as illustrative of contem­poraneous history.

In order that it may not be necessary to mutilate the Magazine to form a collection of these portraits, they will be printed upon pages that will not be numbered, and with­out reading-matter on the backs, which can be removed from the Magazine without injuring it in any way ; and to provide for their safe keeping in a permanent and convenient form we will furnish handsome albums, especially designed to hold two hundred portraits each, which we will supply to our readers at cost price, forty cents each, transportation paid. The pages of the albums are of heavy calendered paper with a colored border as a margin for each picture, and there is a descriptive title-page. The cover is of embossed muslin, with a handsome embossed title on back. In the back of the albums a space will be provided in which to insert the short biographical sketches that will b e printed in a convenient place in the Magazine containing the portraits. The sketches will be numbered to correspond with the portraits, so they can be easily referred to ; and being placed by themselves in the album they will not detract from the artistic effect of the pages containing the portraits.

The pictures will be uniform in size, and the album will be a very handsome ornament for the parlor or library, as well as a valuable source of entertainment, information, and reference, interesting to every member of the family.

W e urge the immediate commencement of a collection, be­cause those who neglect to take advantage of this opportunity to form an album of such inestimable value w ill deeply regret it.

The superior quality of these half-tone portraits makes them equally as effective as photographs, which would cost from fifty cents to two dollars each, therefore the portraits we shall give during the year will be worth over one hun­dred dollars, for they would cost that sum if purchased in the regular way; besides, the photographs would be in differ­ent sizes, which would preclude uniformity in arrangement, and destroy the artistic effect that ours will present when compactly arranged in the album.

The idea of furnishing every month a number of authentic portraits, of superior execution, uniform in size, adapted specially for the formation of an album, is entirely new, and original with us ; and as these are given in addition to the regular contents o f the Magazine, without extra cost, our readers are to be congratulated on having such an excep­tional opportunity to obtain material of this character. It is a fad at present to make collections of portraits of noted people, and such a splendid opportunity as we offer our subscribers should not be neglected. Send at once for an album, and start your collection with those given in this number. Everybody of note will be included in the Demo- rest’s Magazine collection ; thus at comparatively no cost you will have a collection worth hundreds of dollars.

M A K IN G T A R T A R BOOTS.

TARTAR WOMEN EMBROIDERING CAPS.

D E M O R E S T 'S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E . 395

The Transformation of the Ugly Club.*

Before. After.“ TH AT UNM ERCIFUL, W IC K E D NOSE.”

Before. After.A PA IR OP CROOKED EYES.

w i t h o u t discus­sion.

After all, I fancy there was a deal of vanity under­lying our effusive humility. I am s u r e e a c h a n d every one of us was a b s o l u t e l y convinced that, if by s o m e a c t of m a g ic , or som e operation of sci­ence, her especial distortion of feat­ure might be corrected, she would in­stantly convert the irritating pity of her friends into envious admiration, and burst upon society in the perfec­tion of girlish beauty.

Mildred Bevis was our president.The office was hers by right; first, be­cause she was the inventor and founder of the club, and next, because she was the brightest, wittiest, and sweetest girl in our set. She was twenty yearsold, the only daughter of wealthy parents, and as dear to them as such a blessing should be. Her figure was perfection, from the small, stately head with its shining coils of rich, auburn hair, to the little feet with their Arab insteps ; her footgear would have put Cinderella herself to despair.

Her figure,— y es, it was an incomparable figure ; but her face!— alas ! since the truth must be told, Mildred Bevis’ face was ugly, very ugly. She had lovely, violet eyes, eyes that danced with fun or grew dim with emotion, tender, loving, honest eyes, that mated the full, red, tremulous mouth, the firm, round chin, and the low, broad, white forehead. But the nose! oh, that hopeless, hapless, unmerciful, wicked nose !— that blunder of nature, that jest of malicious destiny. It started out from the forehead with an evident determina­tion to fulfill its career as pure Greek ; then, changing its plan, it plunged boldly into the Roman outline, but before completing the noble aquiline swoop it hesitated, wavered,

After.“ A MOUTH TW ISTED i n t o e t e r n a l i r o n y .”

endeavored to turn back, and, finally, made a wretched mess of it altogether. Take it all in all, Mildred’s nose was as thoroughly reckless, unscrupulous, and evil -disposed an organ as ever disfigured the countenance of an otherwise charming woman.

As for myself,— well, you have heard that vulgar saying of the eyes that fought over the bridge of a nose. W ell, mine were such. Taken by itself, each eye was pretty enough, — bright, luminous, and quite capable of any amount of ex­pression ; but turned inward, as if suspiciously watchful of the movements of its neighbor, the pair imparted to my otherwise comely face an expression of sly, diabolical malice, as remote from my character as night is from day.

Cover the lower portion of Ethel Berry’s face with your hand, and a large, innocent, lovable baby gazed at you with mild, beseeching eyes, pleading for kisses and petting. W ith ­draw your hand, and your temptation to kiss her fled ; for she seemed to sneer at you with a mouth twisted with eter­nal and devilish irony. You would have kissed Mephisto- pheles as readily.

Lily Loring’s countenance was divided perpendicularly. The right side, including the nose, was very charming ; but. by some incomprehensible freak of nature, her left eyebrow had been raised obliquely, and remained fixed in an expres­sion of grotesque and exaggerated indifference to all the world and its doings.

Bessie Seguin, the most timorous girl I ever knew, who would cower before her own shadow, shudder at the sudden opening of the door, or shriek at the killing of a mosquito, displayed a set of great, gleaming teeth which a wolf might have envied, and before whose ferocious prominence Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself might have taken to his knightly heels in a panic.

A Vassar graduate, author of several abstruse scientific works,— I think they must have been very grand, for I

__ couldn’t understand them, and theygave me a headache,— a female Magli- abecchi, in short, Aileen Romney had the face of an imbecile, thanks to her protruding lower lip. Poor child ! that cruel lip darkened her whole life ; for, strong-minded as she was, she was only a weak woman at heart, after all, and though she bravely made a jest of her disfigurement among us, and pre­tended to give small heed to the opin­

ion of the world, I have seen the tears rush to her eyes as she spoke of it.

Maud Aylmer— we c a l l e d her “ L a d y Maud,” because of her h a u g h t y bearing— was in the habit of speaking of h e r s e l f as M i l d r e d ’s twin.

After.A G RO TE SQ U E E Y E B R O W .

* N o t e . The statements herein set forth are wholly within the province of fact. Facial remodelling is an actuality, and this article is merely an exposition, in the guise of fiction, of some of the most brilliant and suc­cessful achievements of recent surgical science.

V o l . X X X .— M a y , 1894.— 29

Her nose was one that might have decorated the physiognomy of an old statesman or soldier; such a nose as might have gone into history as the facial appendage of Lord Rag­lan, or Mr. Palmerston ; a nose to lead in war, and to cow turbulent constitu­encies in elections ; a nose

Before. After."T E E T H A W O L F M IG H T E N V Y ."

Before.

Before.

T H E R E were twelve of us in the club. Ugliness was a sine qua non of membership ; not mere negative plain- ness, but positive deformity of feature. For example,

I was admitted on the credential of a pair of crossed eyes ;E t h e l B e r r y was elected by virtue of h e r m o u t h ,— a n d poor Ethel’s mouth was a dreadful one ; L ily L o r i n g ’s eye­brow was sufficient to entitle her to the privileges of the as­sociation; while Bes­sie Seguin’s t e e t h b r o u g h t h e r in

396 D EM O R EST'S FAM ILY M AG AZIN E.

" THAT CRUEL LIP."

to conquer, to control, and to crush. Certainly it was not a nose fitting to a gentle, unobtrusive girl like Maud Aylmer.She was cheerful over it, withal. " The material for Aylmer noses,” she would say, " has been unequally divided ; for my brother Ralph has a mere dab, and I have this ' conch,' he calls it." And her laughter was so bright and unaffected that I knew she, at l e a s t , was one of the Ugly Club who did not re­gard her membership as a b a d g e o f d i s ­grace.

Speaking from the s t a n d p o i n t of our club, we were in the habit of pairing offDorothea Thorne with Bessie Seguin ; for while Bessie’s teeth were fiercely prominent, Dorothea’s were quite invisible, being so small and so withdrawn behind her lips that she might have had none at all, so far as appearances were con­cerned. She called herself the " grandmother and, indeed, when you viewed her face in profile, in a light sufficiently dim to obscure the youthful freshness o f her complexion, it was very difficult to believe that she was not fifty years old.

The pet of the club was little Addie Ford, a sweet, violet­eyed, fair-haired child whom nature had intended for a beauty ; but some evil genius, sitting by her cradle, had frustrated the gracious plan. Her otherwise charming face was sadly disfigured by an ugly, V- shaped slit in her upper lip, which also impeded her speech so that it was scarcely intelligible even to her friends. Addie was but sixteen, and perhaps her vanity had not yet been awakened by contact with the world ; at all events, she bore her misfortune uncomplainingly.

As Mildred Bevis observed, the club was particularly rich in noses. Tillie Allaire’s nose was of the true Tartar type. " In Tartary, ” she was wont to say, " I should pass for a very comely young woman, be­cause in that coun­try no nose at all is the p e r f e c t i o n of female beauty. I am setting my cap at a gold-buttoned m a n d a r i n of the legation. W hen I have s e c u r e d my prey, I will inviteyou all to my tea-garden at Soo Chow.”

W hen I have added Gwendolin Lovatt’s " beacon,”— she called it so herself, and its prominence and its ruddy tip justified the title,—and Mollie Harvey’s " corkscrew,” I have completed the list o f facial grotesqueries which characterized the twelve members of the Ugly Club.

One day Mildred Bevis summoned us to a special session at her home. It was evident to all of us that our president was laboring under strong excitement which she was not wholly able to control. Her eyes glittered feverishly, her color came and went, and her bosom rose and fell tumultuously.

" Ladies of the Ugly Club,” she began, in low, tremulous tones, " I have called you together to consult upon a ques­tion of the utmost importance to us all. W e are twelve

young women who, having fallen under the disfavor of Mother Nature, have agreed to frankly acknowledge our re­spective facial deficiencies, and to make the best o f them. Looking upon them as irremediable, we have invoked phil­osophy to our aid, and have taught ourselves to laugh rather than weep over our afflictions. But— ” she paused and drew a long breath,— “ what if I should tell you that our physical misfortunes are not irremediable, that we need not go through our lives as ugly girls, that science holds out to us a speedy, safe, and absolute escape from those ills we have borne patiently because hopeless o f cure ? ”

Her voice rose to a shrill pitch as she concluded the ques­tion. For a moment we sat mute and motionless, staring at each other in wild surprise, and with the light o f a strange new hope in our eyes. Then a simultaneous cry burst from our lips.

"How ? How?" And from the farther corner o f the

AN HISTORIC NOSE.

“ DISFIGURED BY A Y-SHAPED SLIT IN HER UPPER LIP."

room where lit­tle Addle Ford sat in shadow came the trem­ulous cry :

“ O h , M i l - dwed ! Can vey cuver vis awful mouf o f mine ? C an v e y , Mil- dwed ? If vey coule on’y make me ve same as over p e o p l e ,

I should be so happy."Mildred’s eyes filled with tears

as she met the eager violet eyes bent upon her so pathetically.

“ Yes, dear,” she a n s w e r e d . By a very simple operation your

lip may be restored to its proper shape. W ith some of us, ” she went on, addressing the club again, “ the process must involve pa­tience, time, and courage. Now the question I wish to put before you

is, shall we put our faith in this miracle ? Shall we grasp this hand which science stretches out to us ? ”

“ Yes ! Yes ! ” the very curtains shook with our wild outcry.

“ I observe,” said Maud Aylmer, in her cold way, “ that we are not so proud of our deformi­ties as might have been gathered from our words heretofore. I, for one, fully admit that I do not find my nasal excrescence an unmixed boon.”

“ Nor am I,” added Tillie Allaire, “ desperately bent upon wedding a mandarin of the gold button. ”

"As for me, ” said Dorothea Thome, " I shall surrender the respect due to a grandparent without protest. ”

“ W e are resolved, then,” interposed Mildred. “ Well, girls, I have invited Professor Edwin Everett, one of the lights of modern science, to meet us here to-day. He is wait­ing in the next room. ”

Without giving us time to palter or object, she whipped out and immediately returned, ushering in, not the white- haired, long-bearded personage we had pictured to ourselves, but a tall, slender young man of thirty-five, with piercing eyes, and a cool, business-like manner that was wonderfully reassuring. One after another we passed up to the window where he had stationed himself, and underwent the scrutiny of that penetrating glance. The ordeal was brief, his ques-

GRANDMOTHERLY TEETH.

Before. After.

Before. After.

Before. After.

After.Before.

DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 397

Before.THE BEACON.

tions few and to the point. W hen we had resumed our seats, Professor Everett delivered his opinion in half a dozen terse sentences. Our several malformations were easily curable. The operations would be safe, rapid, and comparatively painless. In every case he would answer for a satisfac­

tory result. Then, with an a b r u p t “ Good-day, ladies,” he bowed and left us.

I s h a l lBefore. After. n o t p a u s e

“ a t a r t a r n o se . " _____________ to describe

how we won the consent o f our parents, who were, one and all, strongly opposed to what seemed to them a s i n f u l trifling w i t h nature ; how our terrors grew al­most to panic as the hour o f trial approached; and how, but for Mildred’s comforting and encour­aging words, we m i g h t have drawn back at the last moment.

W e can laugh now, as we recall the tearful solemnity of our last club-meeting before the operations were to begin, our farewell kisses,our dark forebodings ; but it was a very tragic matter then. After all, considering our anticipations, I think we were very heroic. Maud Aylmer said, " tremendously vain ; ” but Maud was always satirical.

I shall never forget the cold terror that paralyzed my limbs as I took my place for the operation, albeit the experience remains but as the memory o f a weird dream. I see, as through a vapor, the faces o f Professor Everett and his silent assistant; I see the cruel gleam of the steel instruments arranged at the surgeon’s hand, I hear as a voice speaking afar off, " Be calm ; you have nothing to fear.” An odor of ether pervades all, like a faint, sickly atmosphere. As if locked in some strange spell or trance, without feeling, care­less o f what might happen, I seemed to look upon myself as upon another person in whom I had no interest, and to wit­ness all that was done. I knew that my eyes were touched by gentle fingers; I saw a knife gleam, and was conscious that something had been severed; then a bandage was placed be­fore my eyes. As I sank into a pleasant drowsiness I heard the surgeon’s voice speaking to some one :

" The deformity o f her eyes was due to unequal tension o f the muscles controlling their di­rection. These have been cut, the orbits straightened, and nature will now do the rest. The operation has been per­fectly successful.” Then I knew no more.

I can hardly say whether it was hours or days that I lay in one long, changeless night ; but at last there came a dawn when the bandages were lifted in a dimly lighted room, then a growing gleam, then, at last, full day, when a mirror was put into my hand. Could these be the same eyes which had gazed back upon me when I had last looked into that glass ? Oh, incredible, delicious, blessed fact ! And the new eyes— for new they were to me— were misted with grateful tears.

And who was this bending above me, laughing and sob­bing at once ? Surely I knew that beautiful face, perfect in every feature. Yet what was it that I missed ? W hat was it that had come to it, or vanished from it ? W as I still in my weird dream, o r ------ ?

" Yes, dear,” said the voice o f Mildred Bevis, answering my look, “ it is indeed Mildred, but without the nose.”

Ah, yes ; now I understood the wondrous transformation. That dreadful nose had disappeared, and in its place was a straight, beautifully chiselled organ, exactly the nose which belonged to Mildred by right.

" Now you are perfectly lovely,” I murmured, as I sank away to peaceful slumber.

Two weeks from that day the Ugly Club held a meeting, the first since that last sorrowful farewell scone before we

had given ourselves into the hands of Pro­fessor Everett. And what a change ! It is scarcely exaggerating to say that we hardly knew one another. W as this Ethel Berry with the ripe little rosebud mouth ? Could this girl with the level brows be Lily Lor- ing ? And where were the w olf teeth of Bessie Seguin? Yonder was our scientist, Aileen Romney, but what had become of her imbe­cile lower lip? Maud Aylmer came up to me, and as she kissed me, whispered:

" You see, dear, I have surrendered my his- AFTER toric nose for a commonplace, respectable,

nineteenth-century appendage ; and don’t you

Before. After.THE CORKSCREW.

Before. After.“ EARS AT LEAST TWICE THE PROPER SIZE.

think I have done well ? ” In­deed she had.

" And I ? ” put in Dorothea Thorne. “ Don’t you think I deserve some commendation for having voluntarily relinquished my grandmotherly dignity to be­come my own grand-daughter ? ”

" And just look at me ! ” cried little Addie Ford, putting up her perfect mouth for a kiss. " And oh ! isn’t it funny ? I can pro­

nounce my words as well as anybody now ! ”" I ,” said Tillie Allaire, " feel that my proper position in

society is the wife of a wealthy and successful banker. The mandarin must find another partner to share with him the enjoyment o f his celestial tea-garden. ”

" I ," cried Gwendolin Lovatt, proudly turning her profile to the light so that we could note its pure outlines,—“ I have declined the offer of the Light-House Commission. The beacon has been extinguished, as you can see for your­selves.”

" W ho would have thought,” murmured Mollie Harvey.

398 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

complacently surveying herself in the mirror, “ that such power of conversion resided in the surgeon’s knife as to turn me from my crooked ways into the straight path,—nasally speaking? ”

I am neither willing nor able to set forth in gruesome detail the several processes whereby these wondrous trans­formations were accomplished. As I have hinted, my crossed eyes were straightened by severing the contracted muscles which drew the eyes out of proper line. The noses were brought into accepted models by cutting away the excess of bone, reknitting it, and causing the flesh to reunite without permanent scar,—a miracle of modern surgery, but a miracle constantly repeated.

Tillie Allaire’s nose, however, owing to deficiency, was a more trying task, since material had to be supplied by coax­ing up the tissues from the adjacent portions of the face ; but it was successful. Lily Loring’s eyebrow was readily corrected by incisions above and below, drawing it down to its natural position, and securing it by stitches. By an operation, very similar in detail, Ethel Berry’s mouth was constrained to assume its balance.

“ Suffering! " she answered, in reply to my inquiry, “ yes, such suffering as no woman ever underwent before. Pain ? Oh ! I don’t mean that it hurt so much, you know, but I couldn’t talk. That dreadful surgeon threatened me with all sorts of dreadful things if I wouldn’t keep still. Think of i t ! Days and days without speaking a single word ! ”

“ W e found no difficulty with Miss Harvey’s nose,” said Professor Everett when I questioned him afterward. “ W e opened the flesh along the median line, cut the bone, and caused it to reknit in the correct aspect. Oh, it was a simple matter,” he added, coolly. “ Miss Romney’s lip scarcely gave her any annoyance at all. W e parted the exterior tissues, dissected away the superfluous portions, and rejoined the section, happily without scar.”

Yet simpler, it appeared, was the curing of little Addie Ford’s lip. “ The flesh was scarified on either side,” said the surgeon, “ the fresh edges adapted and secured, and the task was done. Oh, it was nothing.”

He treated his wonderful triumphs as if they were mere everyday affairs ; but I think, under all, he was proud of his work.

When all was over, we found that the drawing inward of Bessie’s terrible teeth, and the pushing outward of Doro­thea’s invisible ones, were regarded as quite ordinary opera­tions in surgical dentistry. In one case they put a small plate in your mouth to which are attached elastic bands which slowly and painlessly coax your errant teeth to assume their proper positions. By means of a similar plate, only applying outward pressure, instead of inward traction, they quietly induce your teeth to slide insensibly forward, arranging them just where they should stand like well- drilled soldiers in their ranks.

“ Girls,” cried Mildred, mounting the rostrum, “ when we were the Ugly Club we had our photographs taken. Yonder they are in the frame. Now that we have become—dare I say the Beauty Club------ ? ”

“ Y es! Yes ! ” went up the voice of the club in a single joyous shout. “ ' The Beauty Club.’ ”

“ So be it,” she continued, smiling benignantly. “ Let us have our pictures taken again, in our new guise, and placed beside those, that we may never forget what we owe to modern surgery.”

Carried unanimously.

po st sc r ip t .

The courage and devotion of the Ugly Club have already borne fruit. My friend, Imogene Norrys, whom I had not

seen for more than a year, made me an unexpected call this morning. As she removed her hat and seated herself in a rocking-chair, I stared at her in amazement. What was it? What was the change in her? She was my dear old Gene, but at the same time different. I stared and stared, and she laughed. The more I stared, the more she laughed, until, finally, I lost ray tem per; my temper, you know, is soon lost, but, I will say for myself, as quickly found again.

“ What are you giggling a t ? ” I snapped.“ At your round eyes,— pretty eyes they are, too, now."Then, as she turned her head aside with a peculiar, bird­

like movement she has, I understood.“ Your ears ! your ears ! ” I shrieked. “ W here are your

ears ? ”“ Well, my love,” she replied, calmly, “ if you discover

any change in me, it is your own fault. I have heard about your doings in the Ugly Club, and I have simply followed your example, that is all.”

“ O Gene ! ” I cried, enthusiastically, “ you have had your ears cured.”

“ I have,” she returned. “ What do you think of the j o b ? ” And bending her head toward me, she showed me the neatest, trimmest pair o f ears that ever wore earrings or listened to a whispered compliment.

Gene’s ears used to be at least twice the proper size, and what accentuated their deformity was their wicked and hateful protrusion. Literally, they stood out at right angles from her head, just as you see in those comic pictures of clowns or merry-andrews. They were like a pair o f large hands thrust up from her neck, and—I am not exaggerating —they moved, as the ears o f a donkey do. The poor child always wore a veil, and when we were room-mates in the old days, I often heard her sobbing herself to sleep over those cruel ears.

But those dreadful ears were gone! She told me that, encouraged by our experiments, she had submitted to an operation, though with great fear and trembling. The sur­geon had injected a local anaesthetic, then cut away the

superfluous cartilage and tissues, so as to reduce the ears tothe proper size. And he must have been an artist, too, to produce so classic a model. Finally, he had excised a portion of the flesh at the base o f the organs, so as to draw them hack against the head. His work was so sk illfu lly done that not a scar was visible after the bandages, which she had to wear for several weeks, were removed.

“ And, oh ! my dear girl ! ” she exclaimed, when she had finished her recital, “ my bad ears have followed your bad eyes into the limbo of forgotten things.”

Now who shall say that the Science o f Physical Reform—the phrase is my own invention, and I think an apt one__is not a triumph of soul over body, spirit over matter ?

“ Seek where you will, the high gods place Their sign and seal upon a woman’s face.”

Sa b in a H o l c o m b e .

A Peace Offering.(See Full-Page Oil P icture.)

T h is charm ing picture is a triu m ph o f th e rep rod u cer ’s art ; the flesh-tints are adm irable, and the figure stands ou t from the background as i f instinct w ith life .

“ Tell me, eyes, what ’tis ye’re seeking ;For ye’re saying something sweet,Fit the ravish’d ear to greet. ”

The silent eloquence of the roses has pleaded more effect­ively than words could have done ; but this is just the favorable moment when he who sues for pardon w ill be sure of success if be come in person and with manly cour­age sweep away all misunderstanding.

DEMOREST’S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 399

Advice to Young Writers.T im ely hints and suggestions, founded on personal ex­

periences, given specially for Dem orest ’s Magazin e by well-known authors : General Lew Wallace, General James Grant Wilson, George W. Cable, Mrs. Julia Ward Howe, professor H. H. Boyesen, and Gertrude Atherton.

ESSENTIALS OF A LITERARY CAREER.Ge n e r a l L e w W allace ,

Author of “ Ben H u r ,” “ T h e Fa ir God , ” “ T h e P rin c e of In d ia , ” e t c .

If a young man or woman has the requisite natural talent, the education, and the facility for writing, I would advise

him or her to enter literature. Of course, having thus qualified, I suppose that the young person is to enter the ranks, not of journalism, but of literature. He is to pur­sue literature as an art; whether for fame or for gain matters not, at first, for he will get neither. Now for the essentials. As no man can earn his bread and butter in the beginning, by his art alone, I would say the first essential is to have some means of mak­ing a living other than by writing; as to further essentials, it depends entirely upon A physician would not write the same pre­

scription for each of his patients ; no more can a literary adviser instruct each young writer alike. Still there are certain essentials which every writer must possess before he can write. He must have ambition,—an ambition that will keep him always at work, and always mounting higher.

I hardly need say that the writer must have something to write. In society, it is a sign of cleverness to be able to reel off little nothings ; but in literature, no ! Then the young writer must be conscientious ; must allow no work to pass from his hands until he has done it the best he knows how. Labor and pains, corrections and revisions, are splendid pay­ing investments in literature, and they are the stepping- stones to success. Not that I advocate fine writing in prefer­ence to sufficient to say ; both are to be desired, but sufficient to say comes first. The object should ever be to tell this story, write this novel, this poem, this essay, in the fewest words. Then a young writer must see life sympa­thetically, must know how other people live, must put life in his work, must live what he writes. The best subject for him to write about is the person or thing nearest to him,—the persons, things, events, stories, sentiments, emo­tions, most familiar to him. And the conditions of writing? A h ! ceaseless work, a stout heart, and a happy mind. Always thinking, always observing, always reading, always writing,—these are the conditions.

HISTORY AS A FIELD FOR BEGINNERS.

the individual.

Ge n e r a l Jam es Gr a n t W ilso n ,Author of “ Br y a n t an d H is F r ie n d s ,” “ Sketches of

Illustriou s So ld ie r s ,” “ M em o r ial H isto ry of N e w Y ork ,” etc .

It has been suggested that I should say a few words on the subject of history as a field for begin­ners in authorship. If we are to assume that the young aspirant for literary fame is to depend upon his pen for support, I should certainly consider it an act of folly. If any beginner in this branch of litera­ture, entirely dependent upon his labor, has ever succeeded, knowledge of his phenom­

enal case has never reached me ; nor do I know of any success­ful historical writer of mature years who has relied solely on this kind of literary work for his support. Bancroft could not have lived comfortably on his well-known work, nor Motley, Prescott, nor Parkman, on the proceeds of their brilliant historical writings. These men all inherited or married fortunes. Indeed, it is questionable whether a literary career can be commended to a beginner in the historical or any other field, unless it be accompanied by an income, however small, derived from some other source. If the aspirant for historical writing is so situated that he can wait a decade for his literary harvest, like the authors just mentioned, then, assuming his or her possession of the requisite qualifi­cations, natural and acquired, I know of no branch of authorship more delightful, and more likely to bring re­nown and reasonable pecuniary results, than the field of history and biography, for the two are indissolubly united.

“ Better continue at the plough all your days, than depend on the writing of history for your potatoes and porridge,” said Carlyle, in his broad Scotch, when the writer was present, to a young countryman from Dumfriesshire who, having graduated at St. Andrew’s, sought advice on that subject from his grandfather’s friend Thomas Carlyle. So he abandoned the historical field, but, in place of the plough, betook himself to the pulpit, which he now fills acceptably in one of the largest parishes in Scotland.

THE WRITER AND THE EDITOR.

Geo rg e W . Cab l e ,

A u th o r of “ Old Cr e o l e Da y s , ” “ Bon a v e n t u r e ,” “ Mad am e De l p h in e , ” e t c .

I fear that every man guilty of giving advice to young writers stands a first-class chance of never entering Heaven ; even though, as in the present case, one commits the crime by special invitation, I do not see why the punishment should be less severe. However, I will try not to worry about my future state on this ac­count ; and so let me say boldly to those readers of Demorest’s Magazine who have literary aspirations, follow your impulses, follow them step by step, with this one warning : Don’t try to fly before you have learned to walk. In most initial literary effort there is an inordinate disposition on the part of the beginner to do something large and important first. This should not be. The person who has done little and done well is justified in trying to do more ; but it is not wise for one to assume that the way to attract attention at first in literature is to do some- thing big, something that older heads have been trying to do for years, and are still trying.

But I am requested to say a word about the relations of the writer and the editor. There is a singular delusion among young literary workers that magazine editors will be attracted by a considerable bulk of matter; whereas bulk, in a maiden effort, is the first strong argument against probable excel­lence of the effort. The strangest part is that these begin­ners are devoted magazine readers ; and yet they are blind to the fact that a contribution of a few hundred words con­taining a few ideas is far more acceptable than thousands of

words containing no ideas. As for the supposition that " in- fluence with an editor or publisher will get your manuscript

accepted, why ! that is sheer nonsense. In literary courts friends are of no use. An editor might possibly be influenced to accept one manuscript, but this would not make perma- nent favor. Then the public taste is capricious, and editors

4 0 0 DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M A G A ZIN E .

are bound to follow the public. A class of matter which you can sell today, at your own price, may be worth nothing at all six months hence.

A personal interview with an editor is sometimes valuable to a young w riter; in a few minutes' conversation an editor may open an aspirant’s eyes to his own strength, or to his own weakness. But beware of calling upon an editor often, unless you approach him with a head full o f ideas and suggestions. Editors are usually busy men ; and the one thing, above all, for which they are ever keeping the sharpest lookout is fresh and original material.

THE CHANCES FOR POETS.

M r s . J u l ia W a r d H o w e ,

Au t h o r o f “ L a t e r L y r ic s , ” “ B ir t h d a y Book , ” “ Fro m t h e Oa k t o t h e Ol iv e , ” e t c .

I notice that a great many are drifting from other profes­sions into that o f literature. They come from the ranks of

science, the law, art, and even from Wall Street. These generally appear to be people who have decided literary talent, and who drift helplessly into their nat­ural element. Then there seems to be a peculiar fascination about a literary life, which when once entered upon can never be entirely abandoned. The fact is that never in the history of American litera­ture has there been so much writing as at present. The increase in periodicals in the last few years has been remarkable. Every trade, every science, every profes-

sion, every specialty, even every sport, now has its own particular journals, not to speak of that very newest inven­tion, the literary syndicate.

And what sort o f literary food is needed to feed all these hungry mouths? Articles written to order? Yes ! Short stories, descriptive articles, interviews, personal gossip, lively sketches, brief essays, serials? Y es! But where does poetry come in? you ask. W hat chance has the poet? I must remember now that I am talking to young poets, poets who are unknown, and who are just starting out on their career. To all such I say—not to discourage, but to stim­ulate that literature is a most laborious profession ; that only the few succeed while the many fail ; and that the hard­est fight o f all awaits him who writes verse. Of course after one has made a success in poetry, all is smooth sailing on cheques and royalties ; but to the beginner, ah! there it is dif­ferent. He will find that he will be rewarded less, in both money and fair name, for a really beautiful sonnet, than for a poorly written column on some timely, but ephemeral, subject. He will find that editors want his poems only to fill in, and generally that they do not want poetry at all. He will find that there are hundreds of poets ready to supply every demand for a quatrain. But still I say to the young poet, be not discouraged, but be determined to write poems that edi­tors will print and pay for. Be resolved to write real poetry.

Of course I must address this advice only to those who are poets born. These know that there is as much poetry in this beautiful world as ever there was. They know that there is imagination, too. They know that both poetry and imagina­tion are hidden only to those who do not wish to see. They know that even the most practical o f men will pause in the pages o f a magazine Or newspaper to read the poetry. Y es; with all our American materialism and practicality, there still exists a demand for American imagination and American poetry. This, I believe, is the poet’s chance.

E N T E R IN G L IT E R A T U R E W IT H O U T A COLLEGEE D U C A T IO N .

P r o f e sso r H. H . Bo y e s e n ,

A u t h o r o f “ So cial St r u g g l e r s , ” “ E ssa ys o n German L it e r a t u r e , ” “ Bo y h o o d in N o r w a y , ” etc ., and P ro fesso r o f E n g lish L it e r a t u r e a t Columbia Co ll e g e .

Can a young man or woman who has not a college educa­tion succeed in literature? Notwithstanding that I am my­self college educated, and that my inter­course is confined almost entirely to young men in college, I still must think that the young man who has not a college education stands some chance of real success in liter­ature, with this one condition : he must have genius. I would say to all who wish to enter literature, get a college education if you possibly can ; if not,— well, let us con­sider the conditions. If he has genius he may dispense with other conditions and will no doubt break his way through all ob­stacles ; but if he has merely talent favoring an environment which a college education supplies, I should say, then, that a college education is indispensable to eminent success.

At the moment, the names of Mr. Howells and Mark Twain come to my mind as two of the most remarkable examples in America of men who had not a college education and yet suc­ceeded in literature. Howells had a father whose company itself must have been a liberal education, and his subsequent sojourn in Venice served as an admirable substitute for an equal number of years in college. I think Mr. Clemens is an absolute example of literary genius. His “ The Prince and the Pauper” is a most beautiful piece of work, and con­sidering that it was written by a man who had no literary education the performance becomes remarkable. It will be noted that both Mr. Howells and Mr. Clemens are men of genius.

The young man, college educated or not, who enters the ranks of literature must have these three faculties : the faculty for observation, the faculty for expression and a certain deep and sensitive sympathy with humanity. These three are the most essential characteristics of a young writer He cannot do without them. That sympathy with the thoughts and feelings of others, no matter what their condi­tion, is something a man can have without an education; but the faculty of observation is greatly trained by a college edu­cation, and the faculty of expression is still in a higher degree dependent upon it. But there are, after all, many men of delightful literary talents who cannot be called geniuses; and these men succeed, too.

ADVICE TO GIRL WRITERS.Ger tr u d e Ath e r to n ,

A u th o r of “ He r m ia Suydam , ” “ T h e Doomswoman , ” “ W h at Dreams Ma y Come, ” etc .

As I have been asked to contribute a bit of advice to young girls who want to enter literature, I will confine my remarks to them alone. I should first suggest that they study human nature unceasingly, and leave it severely alone on paper for many years. Even if a writer has that rarest of gifts, insight, only close study and actual experience will enable the owner to handle the gift with effect and avoid the inevitable and often ridiculous errors of the

DEMOREST’S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 401

amateur. As well expect an infant to feed itself, although the instinct is there. If the novice will handle love, let her skate lightly over the surface of the emotions, avoiding analy­sis, and filling up the story with tributary events ; it takes a lifetime to comprehend this most complex of passions, and at twenty one knows nothing whatever about it, even if one has had one’s own little romance. But, above all, avoid sen­timentality, whether writing of love or any other emotion or phase of life. Sentiment is exquisite ; but sentimentalism is the curse of the race.

What to write to be successful? If you have entered literature merely as a trade, study the magazines and suc­cessful books, and write as nearly on the same lines as possi­ble. No great amount of literary art is required ; merely write with correctness, and aim at the popular note. There are many manufactured writers today who have achieved financial success and little reputation. But if you write spontaneously, with a genuine love of the art, and a desire to make a place among men and women of letters, pay no attention whatever to passing fashions. Write out what is in you ; if it has permanent worth it will find its place sooner or later and be read when trumpery sensations and cheap successes are forgotten. Read the masters for style, and constantly ; for no matter how clever you may be with your pen, remember that man is born with a limited vocabu­lary, and that the habits of daily life tend to mental collo­quialism. Read little else but the masters, although it is well to give a few minutes in the day to the newspapers, and a few hours a month to the reviews ; the literary artist, above all others, must be au courant with the thought and happenings of his time.

I should also advise all ambitious writers to read the works

of the great philosophers. It toughens the mental muscle and develops the powers of reason and analysis. It is as necessary for a writer to understand the working of the springs of thought as it is for a painter to study from the nude before he can make a draped figure that will not be a marionette.

Do not imitate anyone. It is a short road to success, but fatal to position. It is better to be a bad original than a commendable reproduction. Avoid Ouida as you would the plague ; every other girl writer is a second edition of her. Study people,— everybody you come in contact with. N o one is too humble to teach you something you did not know before ; for human nature is as intricate as the human eye, and as mysterious as speech and thought. Cultivate an in­terest in all the great questions of the d ay ; even if you never use them they develop the intellectuality and purge the mind of sentimentality and sensationalism. Aim, above all things, to be an artist. Purpose novels are merely the reflection of popular thought ; they are not creative, and are therefore impermanent. Literature is, primarily, an art, the greatest of all the arts, and should be approached in no other spirit.

If I thought you would listen to me I should add, Don’t write fiction before you are thirty. One more suggestion : Take a fling of a few years in newspaper work. There is no training so thorough if you stay not in journalism too long.

Of text-books, read Barrett W endell’s " English Composi­tion, " Richard Grant W hite ’s “ W ords and Their Uses, ” Herbert Spencer’s “ Philosophy of Style,” Longinus “ On the Sublime,” Taine’s “ Lectures on A rt,” Pope’s “ Criti­cism,” and the Dictionary.

Arranged by Gilson W illets.

THE ROAD TO FAM E OR FORTUNE.HOW TO BECOME SUCCESSFUL PROFESSIONAL W O M EN .

BY MARGARET BISLAND.

(Continued from Page 354.)

SYNOPSIS OF PREVIOUS CHAPTERS.Miss Bessie S ingleton 's father, overwhelmed with financial trouble, took his own life, leaving his wife and children penniless. Bessie, but just

introduced into society at the time of the calamity, received news of it by telegram, while she was at a ball in the company o f a gentleman who had shown her very marked attention. She is the eldest of the children, and in the time of trouble was the comfort and stay o f all, planned for the future, and settled the family in a little house in the village after they left their own beautiful home. She secured a position for herself in the public sch oo l; but after a few months gave it up to a younger sister, came to New York to try her fortunes as a journalist, and sought employment in a newspaper office. A fter repeated rebuffs, the editor of the Daily Meteor consented to give her “ space ” w ork: that is, she is to take an assignment every day and write it up, and at the end of the week is to be paid for the space she has filled. Returning from this interview to her boarding-house she ran against a Miss Carter, an artist, in the vestibule ; mutual apologies and explanations ensued, and Bessie accepted an invitation from Miss Carter to take tea in her studio on the next day. Her companion of the ball had written her one or two courteous but formal letters before she left home, and this evening she found in her room a bouquet o f hot-house roses from him, and a note stating that as he was called out o f town he had sent the roses to welcome her to New York.

Betty went out on her first assignment in a blinding snowstorm, wrote what she considered an excellent account that would fill a column, and then went to the tea at Miss Carter’s studio. Here she met Nellie O’Conner, an actress, Jean McFarlan, a young physician, and Gretchen and Isabel Muller, one a singer, the other a musician. They elected Betty a member of their club, the Pleiades, and she started homeward, on the way meeting a wealthy young lady who had made her debut at the same time with herself. The heiress patronized Betty, but o f course was not very cordial; yet Betty felt very happy in her independence. The next morning she bought a Meteor and found her work o f the previous day cut down to a single paragraph, and on demanding an explanation was told that her work was " trashy,” and that she must be brief. Sadly disappointed, as she had been calculating on pay for a column, she started on another assignment, turned in her “ copy,” and going home found a card from her friend Mr. Fenwick Huntington. Still more disappointed at not seeing him, she rushed up stairs to find Miss Carter watting for her to request that she would come to her studio as soon as she could find leisure, to get points for an article about Miss Carter, to be published in an art paper. The next afternoon she went to the studio, when Miss Carter told her how, after the death of her grandfather, with whom she lived, she had taught school, and saved, and starved, almost, until she got together three hundred dollars, with which she came to New York, entered at the Art Students' League, had to begin in the lowest classes, but, possessing talent, steadily worked up until she was able to open a studio for herself. This interview resulted in the formation of a strong friendship between the two women. Almost every day Betty would drop In at Miss Carter’s studio and tell her about her discouragements and her successes: how she had few assignments, but turned to good account every “ catchy ” thing she saw, writing it up for her paper and thus adding to her earnings; how she sometimes was snubbed when she interviewed ladies on society matters ; how she went to a fashionable ball to write up the dresses and encountered Mr. Huntington and Miss Van Tassle, her former rival, in the entrance hall, who revenged herself by speaking quite derisively to Mr. Huntington about women as reporters. But with it all she was comparatively happy, and conscious of achieving some degree of success. Meanwhile Nellie O’Conner, the actress, had an opportunity to take a leading part, and was to make her first appearance on her birthday; and the Pleiades determined to give her a birthday surprise-party, to which a number of friends of the Pleiades were to be invited, among them the Great Bear, an artist having a studio in the same building with Miss Carter, and about whom Betty had a theory of her own that he might be the lost Pleiad. Miss O’Conner’s debut proved a great success; and a very happy party gathered after it In Fanny Carter’s studio to celebrate the event. " The Great Bear ” sent with his acceptance of the invitation to the gathering some lovely flowers, proved a great

4 0 2 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

up-town flat where a quiet old mother and her hard-work­ing daughter could live in decent com­fort on the eighty- five dollars I'm enti­tled to every Saturdaynight. W hat do you think about it, girls V “ I approve,” replied Fanny, heartily ; " and, dear Nellie,

I’m so glad your first impulse is to make a home for yourself. I sometimes think that this business o f working in the big world is not, after all, the best life for women to lead. If events necessitate our going out to make our daily bread, why then we should do it without grum bling; yet as much as we talk o f the advancement o f woman, not all the progress of the world and the gratification of ambitions destroys within us that beautiful feminine impulse, the love o f a home. Every true woman wants her home, even after years o f wan­dering and work would seem to have killed the sweet instinct within her. She wants a place where she can have her own little feminine belongings about her, take up, in addition to her work, the sweet home cares, and know it is a nook where she is sheltered from the world and some tender heart wel­comes her.”

“ That’s just about the size o f it, Fanny mavourneen,” acquiesced Nellie, enthusiastically, but slangily, “ and a flat it shall be, where dear old mammy can have her arm­chair by an open fire. I’ll keep one maid-of-all-work, mammy will look to the housekeeping, and when the com­pany at the Half Moon goes out on the road, I shall grace­fully resign in favor of Miss Bacus and accept one of the offers managers o f stock companies here in New York have made m e; for do you know,” smiling a little grimly as she buttoned her jacket straight up to her chin, “ I, even I, who two weeks back ordered myself lowly and reverently to every dramatic superior, was looked upon as a fifth-rate soubrette, and clung with desperation to the Half Moon Company, knowing I had no chance or recom­mendation for the favor of any other manager, was but

this m o r n i n g inter­viewed by two heads o f g r e a t theaters. How they flattered ! and how amiably they smiled and assured me I would be vastly better placed under t h e i r man­agement. I h e l d my composure as best I could, yet all the while I was whis pering to myself, ‘ Nel-lie O’Conner, is this really true, or a dream?'"

The signs o f spring were in the air that afternoon, and after tea in the studio Nellie and Betty took a turn about Washington Square and walked up Fifth Avenue together.

" I am afraid you think I am a selfish pig, ” re­marked N e l l i e , l i g h t l y , " t o o t a k e n up with my own doings to ask how other folk are getting along.”

"O h , I ’m doing pretty well now ,” re­plied Betty. " The editor is giving me regular space-work, and with that and such odds and ends as I am able to pick up, I earn a regular income o f about eighteen dollars a week. Then I got a nice little sum from my article in the ‘Art Journal, ’ about Fanny. It’s awfully hard work, though ; I was not destined to be a child o f good fortune, like your­self.”

"D o n ’t say that, please,” broke in Nellie, seriously. " Think that for seven years I never knew the meaning of ‘ good fortune ; ’ indeed, ill fortune seemed to be my boon companion. Perhaps you don’t know that I be­gan to work on the stage when I was only sixteen. I left home because,—well, because I was not happy there. I come of a plain family. My father kept a bit o f a shop in a coun­try town, and did pretty well until he fell a victim to a dread­ful disease, for that’s what I call drunkenness. At ten years of age I had learned all the lessons o f poverty, distress, and disgrace. Mother and I kept the shop going, I shared the heavy housework, and had to care for the children o f my eldest sister, who married badly and came back to us a bed­ridden, heart-broken woman

" I got my education by reading the best books in the world, which I had the privilege o f borrowing from the library of a kind-hearted old gentleman who was the richest citizen of our town. He loaned me the little pocket Shake- speares I read and studied late into the night, w h e n t h e shop was closed, the dishes washed, the

VIII.AS long as the Half Moon Theater with the new play could draw comfortable

crowds the manager was content to profit by his new piece and new leading lady ; and Nellie, when she could master her com­posure on receiving her great advance in salary, came to quick and sensible conclusions, which she confided to her friends.

“ I shall bid farewell forever to boarding-houses and hotels,” she announced, "sen d for

my dear old mammy, and set up an establishment of my own here in New York. I don’t think I will

go on the road again, at leastnot for a y e a r or two, and I have the

tail o ’ me eye on

acquisition, and dropped as naturally into bis position as if be bad always been one of them.

DEMOREST’S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 40 3

babies asleep, and poor father found and put to bed. I had most of the plays by heart; and then, when I was fifteen Mr. Townsend took me to see the first the­atrical performance I had ever witnessed.I went home with my head in a whirl, and thought and thought, while I went about the household duties that had always been so repugnant to me. Never did a strolling troupe come to our village that I did not contrive to go every night. Then, alone in my little room over acted out the Shake- p a r t s , and by the guttering c a n d l e I Queen C a t h e r i n e ,B e a t r i c e , or Lady

the shop, I sp ea r ian

light of my was Cordelia, R o s a l in d, Macbeth, by t u r n s . I

ranted and raged, coquetted with and murdered my stolid fellow-actors th e

chairs, bed-post, and table, and not a soul was the wiser for the taste

and inclination daily growing silently stronger in my mind.

“ One hot summer afternoon, arrayed in a worn old muslin frock I had myself ironed that day, my hands showing red and work-worn, and a cheap straw hat on my head, I walked up the hill to Mr. Townsend s house, to get a volume of old comedies I hod long had my eyes on. Mr. Townsend was in his lovely garden at tea with

honor and a priceless chance. But I, oh, I could not ! And I would not, though she nearly knelt to me in tears ; though my father, sobered for a bit by the interesting turn of events and the hopes of a rich son-in-law, stormed, telling me I was an unnatural child ; and though my peevish sister daily and hourly harped in no soothing tones on my selfish decis­ion. It was then that they learned of my wild desire to go on the stage to earn my own living ; for I stoutly held that it was wrong, wicked, cruel, to marry a man for whom I could never feel an hour of real love.

“ When I finally said ‘ No ’ to everyone’s pleadings, my home became a positive distress to me. I was grumbled at reproached, blamed, and shamed ; only the dear old mammy went about with sad eyes, but never a word of complaint, the cruellest blow for me to bear. My niece was growing up to be a helpful little girl, so I quietly decided to leave. There was a troupe of strolling players in the town ; I offered my services. The manager thought I might be taken on for small parts, and so, blind to the horrible experiences before me, and at a salary of ten dollars a week, I started out on my first tour.

“ One evening, at twilight, I quietly kissed my mother good- by and walked up the village street, as though to visit a neighbor; an hour later the train was carrying me South and not for three years did I see my home nor people again.

“ Dear me ! ” said Nellie, softly, resuming her story again, “ how much concentrated wretchedness I did endure in those three years ! We were barn-stormers, clowns, tragedy

Ms sister, and they made me have a cup. After that Mr. Townsend and I walked around the garden,

he gathering a big bouquet for me, while he drew from my lips the story of how unusually bad matters were going at home. In the rose arbor he stopped, gave me the bouquet and said:

“ ‘ Nellie, child, I love you. Come up here and I c an make you happy, I think. As my wife you willhave enough money to help your people out of theirtrouble. What do you say ? ’

" I threw the roses at his feet, and fled away out of the garden, down the hill, and to my little room, as fast as my feet would carry me. Mr. Townsend came quietly down to see my mother, who, poor dear ! regarded it as a great

queens, fine gentlemen, villains, murderers, and peeresses all in one week. In a few months I had conquered full fifteen

new roles. I ran the gaunt­let of every one o f S h a k e - speare’s hero­ines, and then w e n d e d m y way in t o the very heart of the blood-and- t h u n d e r drama. They w e r e a kind- hearted, care-

4 0 4 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

less, improvident, unambitious crew with whom I had cast my fortunes, and what experiences we had !— gobbling bad dinners, breakfasts, and suppers from wayside luncheon- counters, sitting bolt upright night after night when on long railroad journeys, for we were too poor a company to afford the luxury of a sleeper. There was one set of glass jewels that we women of the troupe wore by turns ; one frowsy ermine robe for the kings, and queens, too ; and after a hard day's journey, bad food, and no rest, I would step on the draughty stage of some town hall and gabble my lines to a Claude Melnotte who wore the worn boots of daily use, sadly in need of resoling. I came down with a feverish cold that threatened pneumonia, and night after night our little lead­

ing lady, whose locks were frizzed and dyed like yellow wool, and whose once fresh cheeks were furrowed by age and hard work, and coarsened with rouge, nursed me tenderly. Sometimes, when business was bad, I got no wages at a l l ; sometimes I was obliged to leave pieces o f m y luggage at hotels to defray my bills ; sometimes we drove over rough country in a stage-coach ; and often and often we made a niggerm instrel of Othel­lo, and the low comedy man only made a

pretence of smothering Desdemona by way of a joke. In three years’ time I had made the grand tour of the States and a trip through Canada as a member of the Starlight Comedy Company , then, suddenly, the manager, weary of the battle for fame and fortune, abandoned the profession. Then it was, with a ten-dollar bill, a small

trunk of clothes, and a railroad ticket as all my worldly pos­

sessions, I faced the fu­ture.

“ I made up my mind promptly, and acted on the conclusion. I came straight to New York, put up at the shabbiest little boarding-house, and began to look about me. I went to see managers, and I

joined the anxious groups in the waiting-rooms of dra­matic agencies that I might be prepared for whatever should turn u p ; for that, you know, is one, possibly the only and best, way of securing an engage­ment when one lacks the small leverage of acquaintance in the profession, or influence.Now that I can look back I don’t think I regret so bitterly the years I spent knocking about the country picking up the knowledge and training for my profession through patient labor and privation. If I had a younger sister and she wanted to go on the stage, I would ex­haust every legitimate means to dissuade her from the step. If I found neither coaxing, reasoning, nor the truthful picture of my own trials could dissuade her, I would take her to some man­ager, ask to have her placed at the very bottom round of the long, long ladder, and leave her there to work her own way up. If she was made of the proper stuff, if she had talent, and what is best expressed as ‘grit,’ she would climb, maybe very slowly, but none the less surely, drudging

at first as I drudged, hoping in the face of disappointment, and bravely struggling under repeated blows of adversity."

“ Wouldn’t you put her in one of the schools here in New York?” inquired Betty, with surprise.

" No ! ” emphatically returned Nellie. " I have carefully examined into the question of the dramatic schools I find here in New York, where they are well conducted and able men are instructors, and I don’t hesitate to say that no great American actress will ever graduate from one of our schools to the stage. They get their training on the stage itself. I would give a girl a good English education, I would have her know Shakespeare, and then I would have her begin study and work at once, and on the same stage with able players, but waste no time getting false methods and laboring at work that must be undone. It is better for one’s art and future to act as the dresser of some able actress within sight of the footlights and sound of true expression, than to waste, as many girls do, hundreds of dollars striving in the schools. The next best thing to going on the stage direct is living in an actor’s family and getting training from him or her in exchange for some service rendered. The schools are expen­sive. I could not advise any young woman to come to New York and hope to live and study in a good school on a bank account less than a thousand dollars a year. It would be suicide to try it.”

“ And do you think that the stage is—is—well, that is, does it offer really dreadful temptations to wrong doing ? ” asked Betty.

Nellie nodded her head in silence. She turned, by and by, to face her companion and say: “ Yes; a woman on the stage is beset with terrible temptations on every side, diffi­cult to resist if she be weak; but if a woman be strong, and if she have a good mother to whom she writes a little letter every week,—a mother who believes in her, who loves her, and prays for her,—they lose all power to harm her.”

“ Well, and what did you do when you came here ? ” asked Betty.

“ I starved,” replied Nellie, with a short laugh. “ The managers were not very kind, and did not seem in great need of an ambitious soubrette, as I aspired to be in those days. In two weeks my ten dollars were gone, and yet I was one in the crowded agency rooms where young actors in search of an engagement sat in top hats, frock coats, and quered boots, and w o m e n i n a l l t h e i r

finery, trying to keep up the farce in which we all have an engagement, the farce of outward deception. There came a day, at last, when the postman put into my hands a note from mother, saying father was dead. I read the news as I walked down the street, dry-eyed and head erect. I felt I was walking straight to my doom, for I was on my way to the Half Moon Theater, there to interview the manager, who had given me

D E M O R E S T ' S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E . 4 0 5

c au se to hope. He talked to me a long while, and at last, with my heart stuck fast in my throat, I leaned forward to

receive my death warrant." ' I think,' he said, slowly, ‘ you might have the part of

servant maid in a play for which rehearsals begin tomorrow.I can give you only eight dollars per week, and-------’

" I burst into a passion of tears The relief from anxiety, the gleam of hope, the news in my mother’s letter, in addi­tion to the fact that I had had no food for twelve hours, broke down all reserve, and I shook and trembled with sobs. I think my white, drawn face and shabby gown made the truth very nearly clear to Mr. Clark, for he kind-heartedly patted me gently on the shoulder, saying,

" ' There, there now ; don’t let’s worry. It will all come right to so plucky a little woman as yourself.'

“ You may laugh, but I, Nellie O’Conner, known to the world as Eleanor Brandon, who in the old barn-storming

the gray and rose and primrose of the western sky a white star hung, trembling with its own perfect glory ; nurse­maids were wheeling away their charges; white plumes of smoke, rising from the stretch of distant factory-streets, grew rosy with the reflected radiance of the west ; sweet, childish voices echoed through the gathering gloom ; and through the trees, against the darkling, star-strewn heavens, a cross of fire flamed on the tower of a famous chapel. The din and roar of the city seemed but the far-away murmur of a great sea, and sweetly on the twilight air came the rolling of an organ ; someone was practicing in the church. The two girls rose from where they had been sitting near the statue of the Italian patriot, around which the gathering night threw a heavier mantle than the sculptor’s bronze draperies.

“ I often come here to sit,” said Nellie, as they slowly walked under the white arch and so up the broad avenue. “ It was here I met Fanny. It was in the old days, when I

days had curdled the blood of backwoods audiences with Lady Macbeth’s sleep-walking scene, sank humbly to the position of stage housemaid without a demur. For one hundred nights and some twenty-five matinees I built a make-believe fire in a p a p ie r m ache grate, dusted property furniture, snuffed stage candles, and took the leading lady’s opera-cloak without a word. To my gratification, when the next play was put on I came in for quite a part, as one of the ladies in a ball-room scene with ten lines to speak. My salary went up to fifteen dollars ; but there was mother to help, since the shop had been given up, and my own stage-gowns to provide, so I can tell you I lived close to the bone. W hen the Half Moon’s company went on the road they gave me a regular role at a fair advance, and for four years more I traveled. It was weary work doing the one- night stands, but I felt I was advancing. I knew I possessed no genius, but fair talent once I could get a chance to prove it ; and as I slowly progressed upward a bright ideal grew in my mind, a humble one, some will say I wanted to set up housekeeping with mammy ; for in the course of these years my unhappy sister had died, her children had become self- supporting, and mammy was alone. True to the saying, the unexpected always happens; and when Mr. Clark made me his leading lady, I knew the longed-for, but not then expected, chance had come, and now it is a reality.”

The mists of twilight were gathering in the Square ; above

was first in New York, and every face to me was strange, and every happiness in life seemed denied. One afternoon, heart-sick and tired, I dropped down on a seat and sat think­ing, thinking, until, raising my head, I saw a fair-haired girl

on another seat across the walk, her sketch-book on her knee, and her pen­cil very busy. Her gray eyes flashed

quick artist’s glances at me, the statue tow­ering above me, and the prospect beyond.

“ ‘ P l e a s e d o n ’ t move, ’ she said,gently,‘ your pose is perfect, and I’ve so nearly fin­ished the sketch. ’

“ I laughed and promised provid­ing she would tell me something

about the sketch, and why she had chosen me ; and in five minutes we were chatting pleasantly. In half an hour she was beside me; and encouraged by the look of sympathy and interest in her eyes I told,her my troubles. All she could give me were good wishes, kind words, and a hearty squeeze of the hand when we parted; but that little meant more to me than all the world, and since then I have felt that life would be a very dreary prospect were there no low­voiced, gentle Fanny to whom one could grumble and weep, confess and be comforted, feeling always sure of sympathy.”

( T o be c o n t in u e d .)

406 DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M AG AZIN E .

Farmer Bradford’s Shay.

H ANFORD BRADFORD was eight and sixty years o l d , a n d h e g l o r i e d i n t h e ownership of a “ shay ”

that looked twenty years older.Hanford Bradford was rusty and shabby, and his shay was

rustier and shabbier. It was a two-wheeled, nondescript affair ; a cross between a low phaeton and a high buggy, with its unreliable and creaking wheels encrusted with the accumulated mud of many springs, and the dust of many summers lying in the deep cracks of the dash-board and the folds of the rickety cover. A threadbare rug and a moth- eaten cushion with tufts of bristling hair sprouting up aggressively, like the weeds in the driveway, completed the to u t ensem ble of the “ shay.”

And the quadruped that drew this chunk of dust, mud, and groaning sounds to the village every day in the year? W ell, it did not look much like a horse, nor yet like a cow ; it was just a quadruped, roan as to color, no particular shape as to build, and with legs very much in appearance like the kind that the small boy makes at the four corners of his first attempt at animal drawing. Now these legs when in motion did not trot nor amble nor canter, but spasmodically crooked at the knee joints ; and had it not been for the loud creaking of the shay’s joints one would have undoubtedly heard them creak, too. W hen the ground was touched by the feet it was somewhat in advance of the first knee-crook, and thus in due course of time did Farmer Bradford reach the village of Portjones.

The shay had never broken down, though it had looked for the past twenty years as if it intended to the next day, but it had shed its wheels and its bolts and its shafts at irregular intervals since the memory of the oldest inhabitant ; how­ever, there never had been a genuine collapse. Some one has said that nothing ever happens until the time is ripe for it. Now the shay had long since passed the ripe stage, but nothing dire had happened ; and Farmer Bradford jounced back and forth from the village with the confidence born of long experience, and the soothing thought that there “ wouldn’t be no use of spendin’ good money for a noo shay 's long as he lived; and as fur Mariah, if she outlived him, why er— er— hem !— why she could jest walk ! ”

Mariah was Mrs. Bradford ; a sweet, patient, gentle-bred woman, with meek blue eyes and a down-curved mouth. She had not stepped her foot in the shay for ten years, and she had been to the distant village twice during that decade, — she had walked. Her last experience in the shay had been of such a thrilling and gooseflesh-raising nature that she had never outlived the memory of it.

It happened this way : It was a fine summer night; a f u l l moon threw its beams enticingly across the dusty road, a gentle breeze stirred the dust-laden leaves of the maples and sent fitful shadows dancing along the hedges.

Mariah,” said Farmer Bradford, suddenly appearing at the kitchen door, his jean trousers tucked into his high boots and held by suspenders over an unbleached shirt that was not like Caesar’s wife, “ Mariah, how— er— how would you like to go fur— er— er— a ride ? ”

One of his cows had given an extra quart of milk, and he felt like Abou Ben Adhem : he loved his fellow men.

“ Lor’ ! Hanny ! ” ejaculated Mrs. Bradford, dropping the sheet she was dampening, and staring at him in awe-struck amazement, “ you can’t mean it, Hanny ? ”

" I do, Mariah.”“ Lor' ! Hanny ! ” And so saying she disappeared into an

adjoining room to don her outdoor gear.Only once before had he ever made such a request, and

that had been forty years ago, when the shay had come from

the carriage builder’s, brave with new paint and the smell of fresh varnish ; but it was not out and out a strictly new shay. It had seen some service before Farmer Bradford had ex­changed an old cow for it, but paint had done the wonders that it does for other things animate and inanimate, and it was “ as good as noo,” chuckled Farmer Bradford when he thought of the cow he had got rid of.

Mrs. Bradford was dazed as she fumbled in the clothes- press for her wrap ; she got her bonnet on hind side before; however, that did not make much difference, for it was of such an ancient and perplexing make that it would have taken an expert to have guessed which was the front. Her excited and trembling fingers had blood-spilling tilts with every pin she touched, and a heavy moisture gathered about her eyes.

“ Lor’ ! Hanny ! ” she again exclaimed as she came into the kitchen, and with a nervous twitch at the corners of her down-curved mouth she timidly approached and kissed him on the spot where his chin should have been.

A murky red suffused his face, and he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.

“ You’re— er— you’re like you was a gurl again, Mariah, ” he finally cried, drawing his ample shirt-sleeve over his mouth.

“ Patty give an extra quart tonight,” he said pleasantly, as they prepared to get into the shay. “ E f she keeps that up fur a week she’ll be worth her grass.”

Mrs. Bradford’s additional weight told audibly on the shay.“ H ’ist over this way a bit, Mariah ; that there spring on

your side ain’t what it were.”So she “ h ’isted,” and they drove out into the moonlit

road.Mrs. Bradford was still in a sort of mental fog, and cast

timid glances at the remarkable profile of her spouse as he sat in silence staring at the lines that he slapped incessantly on the quadruped’s back. To tell the truth he was embar­rassed and did not know what to say. For so many years had he driven alone and given himself up to the pleasure of his own society, that thus to find his wife beside him filled him with discomfort and unquiet.

He was not a man of impulses. This was the first impul­sive act of his life, and he had not ridden far before he bit­terly regretted it. The extra weight of his wife caused the shay to sag on one side, and kept him constantly hitching over to avoid sliding down upon her ; he was forced to sit on a bristly part of the cushion, and the comfortable hollow that years of leaning had made in the back was occupied by Mrs. Bradford. On their return homeward the wrath that had been slowly accumulating began to roll up with compound interest, and suddenly burst forth.

“ Doggon it, Mariah,” he snarled, “ can’t yer set more ter yer own side ? I bet I be black and blue scrouged up to this here iron on the side; ” and he savagely slapped the lines on the quadruped’s back.

Now they had been wending their way along according to the quadruped’s fixed notions of a gait, and whether the quadruped was asleep when the lines whacked down with such purpose and energy, or whether it suddenly caught a side view of its reflected self on the white road, will never be known to mortals ; but instantly a most remarkable thing happened. It gave a wild shy up instead of to the side, and its hind legs shying in unison with its fore feet, they landed in some incomprehensible way on the dash-board and then into the shay. The dash-board did not exactly crumble at this unexpected onslaught, but it doubled up neatly into its many cracks, and lay on the rug a folded mass for the quad­ruped to pound its hoofs against.

And just here is the astounding part of it a l l ; the quadru­ped still went ahead, its fore feet on the road when not in

DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE. 4 0 7

the air, and its h ind fe e t in th e s h a y ! T h e y w e re o rd er ly , w e ll - r e g u la t e d h ind fee t, fo r th ey k ep t up th e ir g a it on th e dash-board w ith u n e rr in g p recis ion .

Farm er B rad fo rd and h is w ife , w h en th e ca tastroph e firs t burst upon them , bu n d led th em se lves in a bu nch on th e seat and out o f reach o f th e qu ad ru p ed ’s heels. A n inch , fo r th e time being, w as as go o d as a m ile ; bu t th e re w as no te ll in g when that inch w ou ld b e occu p ied .

“ M ariah ,” w h ispered F a rm er B rad fo rd , h oa rse ly ,— w h y he w h ispered passes th e u n derstan d in g, un less h e fea red to let th e quadruped in to th e secret o f th e ir p red icam en t,— “ w ot a ir w e to do? S he can ’t k eep th is h ere u p fu r long , and e f them heels o f h ern g it n ea rer w e ’re go rn ers , M ariah . Th is is fu r b r in g in g a w om an a lo n g ! ” h e concluded , in a louder k ey .

“ Can ’t w e craw l ou t th e back , H a n n y ? ” sh e rep lied , in trem b ling tones. “ F o lk s do th a t in ru n aw ays, som etim es. ”

“ Oh, th is a in ’t no ru n a w a y ,” he an sw ered , in a loud , scornful vo ice. “ T h is h ere is je s t a ------ ”

But w hat F a rm er B ra d fo rd con s idered it to be w i l l n e v e r transpire. I t m ay b e w r itten d o w n in th e b o o k o f u nspoken thoughts, bu t w e sh a ll n ot k n o w ,— th a t is, in th is d iv is ion ; for the quadruped, w ith a v ic io u s tw itc h o f h e r o f f ear, aga in shied up, and h e r h in d fe e t once m ore com in g in con tact w ith the earth , a w a y she w e n t !

Tam O ’Shanter, John G ilp in , th e g a lla n t r id e r o f B lack Bess, each and e v e r y one o f th em w e re ec lip sed and p u t to the w a ll. Oh ! th e m ad an tics o f th ose le g s ! A n d th e ghastly tr ick s th e m o o n lig h t p la y e d w ith th e ir sh adow s ! The trees sn ickered and n odded and tossed th e ir b ranches in convulsions o f am usem ent ; one b o ld e lm even w en t so fa r as to sm artly sw itch F a rm er B ra d fo rd across th e ch eek as th e

shay dashed by.Oh ! the m ad m errin ess o f i t ! On, on, on ,— Snap ! On,

on,— but n ow o n ly th e qu ad ru ped and n ot th e shay. In the m idd le o f th e d u sty road w e re th re e o b je c ts in a h e lp less h ea p ; th e shay, F a rm er B ra d fo rd , and M ariah . F o r an indefin ite space o f tim e it w as a tu m b led m ix tu re ; b u t f in a lly em erged from th e w re c k a h a tless m an w h o se tan -co lo red face the m oon ligh t and fr ig h t h ad b lan ch ed .

“ I ’l l be doggon ed , M ariah , bu t a l l th is com es o f b r in g ­in g a wom an a lo n g ,” th e d u st-covered m an sa id in w ra th y accents, cau tiou sly fe e lin g h is lim b s a bou t th e jo in ts to see i f th ey w ere a ll in p rop e r w o rk in g order. “ F o r ty y e a r h a v e I d r iv th is h ere sh ay ,—-for -ty y e a r , I say ,— and th is h e re is the fu st tim e I ’v e m et w ith such a d o ggon ed upset. I t ’l l cost good m oney to g e t th is h e re pu t to r igh ts . W h y ! th a t th e redasher’s clean go rn to th e dogs, and------ ” H e a b ru p tlystopped, and fu m b lin g u n d er th e shay d ra g g ed ou t h is w ife.

“ I t ’s m y arm , H a n n y ," she m oaned. “ I t ’s m y arm . Oh ! oh ! H anny ! ”

" By gosh ! ” h e cried , sea tin g h e r on th e g rass b y th e road ­side. " T h is is too m uch ! A noo dash er and a doctor ! B y gosh ! ”

Th ere is a lw a ys a g ra in o f go o d in th e w o rs t trou b le , and the gra in in th is p a rticu la r in stance w as th e fa c t th a t th e ir home w as n ot m ore than h a lf a m ile d is ta n t ; so ga th e r in g his w ife in h is arm s h e d ropp ed h er in to th e shay, and p lac in g h im self b etw een th e sh a fts h e tru d ged h om e th rou gh the dust and the m oon ligh t. T h e qu ad ru ped stood p la c id ly in fro n t o f the barn, w ith th e rem ains o f th e harness h an g in g about her, as Farm er B ra d fo rd s lo w ly d ra gged th e sh ay o v e r the w eed-grow n d r iv ew a y .

And th is is th e tru e account o f M rs. B ra d fo rd ’s la st rid e in the shay.

Ten years w en t by . T im e w ork ed h ard at th e shay and the quadruped, and le f t deep year-m ark s on them . One

can d ow n T im e by k e e p in g u p w ith h im ; b u t w o e b e tid e th e person o r th in g th a t la gs beh in d . H e so w s seam s in th e ir fa ces and cracks in th e ir su rfaces . R e n e w a l is h is g rea tes t fo e . K e e p y o u r fa ce w ash ed , and y o u r b a rn pa in ted , and h e slashes a t y o u in va in .

T h e shay d id n ot g e t a “ n oo d a sh er,” b u t th e o ld one, l ik e M rs. B ra d fo rd ’s b rok en arm , w as p a tch ed up, an d “ B o u t as go o d as n o o ,” so sa id F a rm er B rad fo rd .

T en yea rs had go n e b y . I t w as a b r ig h t, w a rm d a y in June, and F a rm er B ra d fo rd w a s in fr o n t o f th e ba rn p u n ch in g th e q u ad ru p ed in to th e sh a fts o f th e shay. T h e qu ad ru ped w as g r o w in g s o g g y and w o u ld n ot m o v e n o w w ith o u t m uch persu asion in th e sh ape o f pu n ch es, p ok es , and occasiona l k ick s .

“ H an n y , d ea r ,” ca lled M rs. B ra d fo rd fr o m th e k itch en w in d o w as she saw h im g iv e th e la s t pu n ch an d th en p roceed to t ie th e h arn ess to g e th e r w ith a f lu ffy - lo o k in g rop e , “ d o n ’t y o u th in k y o u ’d b e tte r g e t o ld Jones to m en d th a t th e re harness up r ig h t , and n ot fo o l w ith it th a t w a y an y lo n g e r? I t w i l l su re ly b e to y o u r h u rt, H a n n y , i f i t a in ’t fix ed u p

r ig h t and t ig h t .”B u t h e t ied on, and g a v e no h eed to h is w i f e ’s so lic itu d e

fo r h is w e lfa re . W ith a w e a ry s igh she re tu rn ed to h e r d ishes. “ H e w as a lw a y s th a t s e t,” she f in a lly c r ied ou t, w ip in g th e m o is tu re fr o m th e co rn ers o f h e r p a t ie n t- lo o k in g

b lu e eyes.W h e n F a rm er B ra d fo rd c a r e fu lly c lim b ed in to th e sh ay,

and h ad se ttled h is rou n d sh ou ld ers in th e h o llo w , th e q u a d ­ru ped g a v e tw o je r k y ju m p s in to th e a ir, and th e jo u rn e y to th e v il la g e h ad com m enced. A s th e sh ay passed th e k itch en w in d o w th e qu ad ru p ed w as b ro u g h t to an u n ex p ec ted s tan d ­s till, and bo th its jo in ts and th e sh a y ’s c reaked . F a rm e r B ra d fo rd ta p p ed w ith th e b u tt o f th e b rok en w h ip on th e w in d o w pane, and h is w ife , w ith a d ish in on e h an d an d a to w e l in th e o th er, in s ta n tly sh o w ed a su rp rised an d sm ilin g

fa ce a t th e glass.“ N o w lo o k a ’ h ere , M a r ia h ,” ca lled h e , lo u d ly , in h is ra sp ­

in g , nasal vo ice , g la r in g a t h e r s a va g e ly , “ y o u je s t w a sh th em d ish es and m in d y o u r o w n b iz . D o an ’t y o u g o fu r to b u ssy in g y o u rs e lf abou t m e o r h e r ,” j e r k in g h is h ead a t th e qu ad ru ped , “ o r th is h e re shay. I h a v e d r iv th is h e re f i f t y y e a r ,— -fif - t y y ea r, I sa y ,— and n e v e r h ad b u t on e d oggon ed upset, and I a in ’t a -g o in g fu r to a l lo w n o w om a n fu r to d ic ta te to m e h o w i t ’s to b e d r iv ; ” and in resp on se to a s lash o f th e lin es th e q u ad ru p ed ju m p ed , and th e sh a y creaked d o w n th e w e e d y d r iv e w a y .

I t w as a w a rm Ju n e day , and th e m a p les an d e lm s th r e w co o lin g sh adow s across th e su n -sw ep t road. T h e flie s b u zzed co m fo rta b ly in th e w a rm th , and one la rg e b lu e -b o tt le a tta ch ed it s e lf to th e h arness and rode u n d istu rbed to th e v illa g e . I t w as a w ick ed , d a n gerou s -lo ok in g b lu e -b o ttle , and k e p t one b u lg ed e y e on th e q u ad ru p ed ’s fa t n eck , and th e o th e r on th e d ro w sy m an in th e shay, w h o n odded and b o b b ed as h e w as jou n ced o v e r th e stones.

On th e re tu rn tr ip F a rm er B ra d fo rd , in o rd e r to co n su lt a b ro th e r fa rm e r on th e v ita l qu estion o f p o ta toes , h ad to ta k e th e sam e road th a t h e had d r iv e n o v e r th e n ig h t o f th e ca tastrophe ten yea rs b e fo re . B y th is t im e th e qu ad ru p ed and th e f ly w e re q u ite th ick . T h e f ly h ad jo u rn e y e d o v e r th e qu ad ru ped m an y tim es, fr o m stem to stern , sea rch in g fo r a th in spot in th e h ide, b u t w ith o u t success ; so, fo r th e non ce d iscou raged , it had aga in taken u p its p os ition on th e h a r­ness and w as d o c to r in g its fe e t p rep a ra to ry to a ren ew ed tram p o v e r th e o ld grou n d .

I t w as th e first tim e th a t th e road had been tra v e rs ed since th e a c c id e n t; and th e shay had no soon er g roa n ed a rou n d the bend than th e qu ad ru ped in s tan tly p r ick ed u p its ears, and th e b lu e-b o ttle , le a v in g its res tin g -p la ce , b egan to b u zz ex c ited ly about h er nostrils . N o w w h e th e r it w a s th e

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m em ory o f its m o o n lig h te d im a g e on th e road and th e suc­c e e d in g m a d ru n h om e, o r th e to rm e n tin g b u zz o f th e fly that u n n e rv e d th e q u a d ru p ed , w il l n e v e r b e k n o w n ,— it is so se ld om th a t th e reason fo r h a p p in e ss is k n o w n in th is w o r ld , it is o n ly g u es sed a t ; b u t c e r ta in it is th a t she had n o t taken m a n y ju m p s fo r w a r d as w a s h e r m a n n er o f g e t t in g o v e r th e g ro u n d , w h e n sh e su d d e n ly sh ied up.

F a rm e r B ra d fo rd w a s in a h a l f d o ze . H e h ad been w a tch ­in g th e f ly in a h a z y s o r t o f w a y fo r som e tim e ; th e re w as s o m e th in g a b o u t th a t b lu e -b o tt le th a t fa sc in a ted h im . S om e­tim es , as h e s ta red a t i t th r o u g h h is h a lf-c lo s ed lid s , it looked lik e a l i t t le b lu e im p c a p e r in g u p an d d o w n th e q u ad ru p ed ’s w e ll-s ea so n ed b a ck , a n d h e ch u ck led to h im s e lf as h e saw th e im p s it t in g on th e h a rn ess sh a rp en in g its p itc h fo rk fo r a n o th e r a tta c k on th e h id e .

I t w a s a t th is ju n c tu re th a t th e q u a d ru p ed sh ied and je rk ed th e lin e s fr o m h is r e la x e d h an ds. H e w a s dash ed a lo n g the su n -flo o d ed ro a d an d u n d e r th e tre e s th a t so lem n ly b en t o v e r h im in th e s t i l l a ir . I t w a s a sh o rt, m ad run . T h e qu ad­ru p e d p lu n g e d o v e r a b r id g e , an d th e y a ll la y in th e sh a llow s trea m b en ea th .

H o w th a t b lu e -b o t t le f ly b u z z e d !“ G e t u p ! G e t u p ! y o u n ig g a rd ! ” i t screech ed , w h iz z in g

it s w in g s a b o v e th e u p tu rn e d fa c e th a t th e c le a r w a te r r ip ­p le d o v e r . " G e t u p , g e t u p ! G e t o ld Jon es to m end yo u r sh a y . Y o u ’ l l b e h u r t , H a n n y .— Y o u a re h u rt, H an n y .— Y o u ’r e d r o w n in g , H a n n y ! Y o u ’re ca u gh t u n d er th e shay, a n d y o u c a n ’t m o v e .— T h e sh a y th a t y o u ’v e d ri v f i f t y year, y o u s e lf is h n ig g a rd . . . ... . W h e r e ’s M a ria h ? W h e r e ’sM a r ia h ? . . . I ’ v e g o t y o u n o w , H a n n y ; I ’m o ldJ o n e s ,— I ’m D a v y Jon es . C om e a lo n g ! I ’m th e im p . I ’m th e d e v i l , th e d e v i l , th e d e v il. . . . W h e r e ’s M ariah ?W h a t h a v e y o u d o n e f o r M a ria h , y o u o ld cu rm u dgeon ! a ll th e s e d r e a ry f i f t y y e a r s th a t s h e ’s s la v e d fo r you , cook ed fo r y o u , w a s h e d f o r y o u , d ru d g ed fo r y o u ? H o w m u ch h ave y o u g o t tu c k e d a w a y in th e b a n k ? H e y ? S e v e n ty - fiv e th o u ­sa n d ? S e v e n ty - f iv e th o u sa n d ? W h o h e lp ed yo u sa ve it ? M a r ia h ? M a r ia h ! H u r r y u p an d ch ok e i t ou t, m y p itch fo rk is h o t f o r y o u . I ’v e g o t y o u n o w , H a n n y . M in d y o u r ow n b iz . I ’ v e d r iv th is h e re sh ay f i f t y yea r . . . . W h e r e ’sM a r ia h ? M a r ia h ! N o w see h ere , H a n n y , I ’m o ld D a v y Im p D e v i l J on es , an d I ’ v e g o t y o u ; y o u ’re p re tty near s tr a n g le d , a n d y o u r a rm ’s b ro k e n and y o u r r ib s a re cracked, b u t I ’l l le t y o u o f f th is t im e i f y o u ’l l g e t M a ria h a n oo shay.

. W i l l y o u b u y ? W i l l y o u b u y ? Y o u w i l l? Y o u w i l l ? Y o u w i l l ? W e l l , I ’m o ld Jones, b u t I ’l l le t y o u o ff th is t im e . H e r e com es a m an on h o rseb a ck .” A n d so b u z­z in g th e b lu e -b o tt le f ly to o k h im s e lf o f f ; b u t w h e th e r it w as th e b lu e -b o tt le f ly th a t sa id a ll th is , o r th e w a te r th a t r ip p led in to F a rm e r B ra d fo rd ’s ears , o r th e s t ill, sm all v o ic e w ith in h im , is a n o th e r o n e o f th o se m ys te r io u s th in gs th a t w e can

n e v e r k n o w .T h e m an on th e h o rse g a llo p e d to th e b r id ge , ex trica ted

F a rm e r B ra d fo rd fr o m h is sh a y and h is p er ilou s p os ition , and th e r e b y s a ved h is m ite o f a sou l fr o m g e tt in g ou t o f h is b ig b o d y ; b u t th e q u ad ru p ed w as d ea d ,— dead as a m um m y. Its n e ck w a s b ro k e n ,— as b rok en as th e shay th a t lie s to th is d a y in th e c re ek and is a ca p ita l sp o t fo r fish .

M rs . B ra d fo rd n o w d r iv e s in a to le ra b ly fa ir-a p p ea rin g w a g o n " ’m ost as g o o d as n o o ,” b u t th e sp ir it fo r d r iv in g has le f t F a rm e r B ra d fo rd ; and w h en M a ria h d r iv e s th e sp r igh tly lo o k in g co b to th e v il la g e , h e tak es h is lin e and tru dges to th e c re e k to fish a rou n d h is o ld w a te r-soak ed shay.

M a r y A d e l a i d e K e e l e r .

F i v e D o l l a r s W o r t h o f P o r t r a i t s G i v e n A w a y i n

t h i s Nu m b e r ; see p a ge 894. Send fo r th e a lbu m at once

a n d com m en ce y o u r co llec tion .

D E M O R E S T ' S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .

R O S A R U G O S A R U B R A .

O ne-half actual size.

g lossy , la rg e -lea ved fo lia ge , w h ich possesses th e advan tage o f b e in g im p erv iou s to disease. I t is said o f th is p lan t th a t " i f it n e v e r produced a flo w e r it w ou ld s t ill b e en title d to a p rom inen t p lace on th e law n fo r th e b eau ty o f its fo lia ge , w h ich som ew h at resem bles th a t o f th e rose, bu t is v e r y h ea vy , rich , and sh in in g , rem a in in g on u n til la te in au tu m n .”

T h e accom pan yin g illu s tra tion g iv e s th e b es t id ea o f th is b ea u tifu l sh rub poss ib le w ith o u t th e a id o f co lor. T h e flow ers are o f a m ost v iv id scarlet, a re v e r y fra g ra n t, and born e in im m ense num bers in te rm in a l c lu sters o f ten or fifte en blossom s, w h ich com m ence to appear in June, b loom ­in g con tin u ou sly u n til s eve re frosts . F o llo w in g th e flow ers com e th e p ro lific bunches o f r ich -lo o k in g scarlet fru it , about

Some Acclimated Japanese Fruits.

A L T H O U G H Japan can boast o f in fin ite va rie ty in its vege ta tion , it is said to be m ore defic ien t in fruits than a lm ost any cou n try o f th e tem perate zones.

N o tw ith s ta n d in g th is fa c t th e re are som e exce llen t varieties o f Japanese fru it, a num ber o f w h ich h ave been acclimated in th e U n ited S tates d u rin g th e past fe w y ea rs and are at­tra c tin g m uch atten tion am on g those in terested in any addi­tion to th e v a r ie ty o f ou r dom estic products.

A m o n g th e m ost rem arkab le o f th ese Japanese n ove lties is the rosa ru g osa ru b ra , o r th e fru it-b ea r in g Japanese rose- app le, a deciduous sh ru b o f th e m ost b eau tifu l description, w h ich , it is said, com bines m ore a ttraction s than any other specim en o f flo ra in ex istence. I t is neat and com pact in fo rm , g r o w in g to a h e igh t o f fiv e o r s ix fe e t, w ith th ick ,

DEMOREST’S F A M ILY MAGAZINE. 409

d a i - d a i . w h o l e f r u i t a n d h a l f s e c t i o n .

O ne-ha lf actual size.

the size o f a jen n e tin g , and o f a p leasan t, s lig h t ly acid fla vo r. It is delic ious fo r ta b le use, and m akes e x ce llen t je lly . F lo ris ts declare th e rosa ru g os a ru b ra to b e a m ost va lu a b le addition to th e l is t o f d om estic fru its , and recom m en d it as being unsurpassed fo r g e n e ra l cu ltiva tio n .

Its hard iness ren ders it th e m o re v a lu a b le , as it flourishes in th e n orth ern sec tion s o f th e country, n eed in g n o p ro tec tion w hatever, and can b e re lied upon to p rodu ce b o th flo w e r and fru it u nder a ll con d ition s.There are in fe r io r g ra d es o f th is shrub w h ich do n ot b ea r f r u i t ; but the gen u in e can b e ob ta in ed at a reasonab le p r ic e fr o m th e principal flo ris ts . T h e Japanese rose-apple a lba is a sh ru b o f a sim ilar ch a rac ter p r o d u c i n g beautifu l p ea r l-w h ite flo w e rs and b r ig h t g o ld ­en scarlet-flu shed fru it , o f e x q u is ite fla vo r.

N e x t in im p ortan ce to th e ro s a ru g o s a ru b ra comes th e kak i , w h ic h has b een g ro w n fo r some tim e su ccess fu lly in som e p a rts o f F lo r ­ida and G eo rg ia . T w o o f th e m ost com m on varieties o f th is f r u it a re th e d a i-d a i and th e yam a ts u ru , illu s tra t io n s o f w h ic h are g iv e n .Th e d a i-d a i is th u s d esc rib ed b y m r. W i l ­liam R . K in g , sp ec ia l a g en t o f th e d ep art­m ent o f p o m o lo g y , W a s h in g to n :

S ize o f fru it , m ed iu m to la rg e , a v e ra g in g n ea r ly th ree inches in d ia m e te r ; sh ape, rou n d w ith b u t s lig h t dep ress ion at base, a s lig h t c a v ity a t th e a p ex ; su rface sm ooth and q u ite

fre e from dark specks o r cracks ; ra th er p a le o ra n ge in c o lo r ; flesh , o range red, s o ft w h en fu lly r ip e ; seeds, p lu m p , u su a lly p resen t; fla vo r, rich , s w e e t ; q u a lity , v e r y good . A s to th e m ean in g o f th e nam e th e re is a d iffe ren ce o f o p in ion e v e n am ong th e Japanese, som e sa y in g th a t i t m ean s 'b ig -b ig , ' and o th ers th a t it has re fe ren ce to th e resem b lan ce o f th e fru it in shape and co lo r to an o ran ge . ”

T he yam a ts u ru is described in an e q u a lly p rec ise m an n er : In s ize it is sm all to m ed iu m , b e in g fr o m on e and o n e -h a lf b y tw o inches, to tw o b y th ree in ches in d iam eter. In sh ape it is ob lon g , d is tin c tly p o in ted a n d p e c u lia r ly in c lin ed , on e side b e in g la rg e r than th e o th er. T h e stem is set on a s lig h t e leva tio n o r cone, in stead o f in a ca v ity , as w ith m ost k in d s o f f r u i t ; th e su rface is o f a b r ig h t red c o lo r and p e r fe c t ly sm ooth, th e flesh b e in g o f a d eep o ran ge-co lo r, v e r y sw e e t

and luscious.O ve r fifte en va r ie tie s o f th is fru it h a v e been in trod u ced

in to th is cou n try , and som e fro m th e m o re n orth ern p a rts o f Japan are expected , u ltim a te ly , to be su itab le fo r c u lt iv a t io n in th e N o rth e rn States, a lth o u gh th e y h a v e been in trod u ced at firs t in th e Sou th w ith a v ie w to g iv in g th em a b e tte r chance. Som e o f these a re o f a w in te r v a r ie ty , and som e r ip en m uch e a r lie r than others. T h e re a re va r ie tie s o f a h ig h q u a lity bu t p rod u cin g sm all crops, o th ers m o re p ro lific and su itab le fo r pop u la r use, w h ile som e a re b es t adap ted

fo r d ry in g o r p reserv in g .A n o th e r im p orta tion fro m Japan is th e w in e b e rry , one o f

th e m ost u se fu l fru its e v e r in trod u ced in to th e A m erica n garden . I t is a scion o f th e ra sp b erry fa m ily , and is h a rd y en ou gh to w ith stan d th e r ig o r o f a n orth ern clim ate. I t is, in fa c t, m ore h ardy th an e ith e r th e A m erica n ra sp b erry o r b la ck b erry , and stands a lik e th e co ld o f a n orth ern w in te r o r th e h ea t o f a sou thern sum m er w ith o u t th e s ligh tes t in ju ry . T h e fo lia g e is o f a da rk g reen c o lo r on th e ou ter s ide and s ilv e ry w h ite underneath , th e yo u n g sh oots and b ran ch es b e in g co vered w ith a h ea vy , redd ish m oss. T h e fr u it g ro w s in la rg e c lu sters o f fro m seven ty to a h u n dred b erries . F ro m th e tim e o f fo rm ation and b loom u n til th e y rip en th ese b e rr ie s are enclosed in a bu rr, w h ich is fo rm ed b y th e c a ly x c o v e r in g th em en tire ly . W h e n r ip e th e b u rr opens, e x h ib it in g a la rg e , g lo ssy b e rry o f th e b r igh te s t lig h t scarlet co lor. T h e

b u rr and stem s are co vered w ith a

T A M A T S U R U .

O ne-half actual size,

H A L F S E C T IO N . S E E

h ea vy redd ish m oss, lik e a m oss rosebud. T h e fla vo r o f th e fru it is en tire ly d iffe ren t fro m any o th er b e r ry ; it is ju ic y and p iqu an t in taste, not d isag reeab ly tart, bu t o f a m ost de lica te and luscious fla vo r w h ich ep icu res assert is n ot o n ly p ecu lia r to it s e lf bu t su perio r to th a t o f a ll o th er berries . Its ex trem e ju ic in ess ren ders it sp ec ia lly

des irab le fo r m ak in g syru ps and je llie s , and it is th e m ost p ro lific b e r ry kn ow n . Its fru it is r ip en ed ea r ly in Ju ly ,

it k eep s b ea rin g fo r a considerab le tim e. A s a dessertbu t

4 1 0 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

fruit the wineberry is incomparable; and it retains its piquant flavor when cooked or preserved much more dis­tinctively than either raspberries or strawberries. In fruit­ing time the bushes present a highly ornamental appearance.

Some of the drupe, or stone, fruits of Japan are extremely disappointing; an example being the cherry, which, instead of yielding a delicious harvest, expends all its strength on the beauty and fragrance of its blossoms, being to the Jap­anese what the rose is to western nations. A nice fruit of the plum variety, the Photinia Japonica, or Japan medlar, known to us as the Giant Loquat, has won its way to favor among American pomologists, and is grown in sufficiently large quantities through the South to be a common market commodity. It bears showy white flowers in pendulous racemes, during the winter months, and therefore cannot be cultivated anywhere but in the extreme South. The fruit resembles a small yellow plum covered with soft down, and is of a slightly acid but most agreeable flavor. It is put up in boxes like raspberries, and can be found dur­ing the spring months on sale in most Southern cities.Its culture is reported to have proved more particu­larly successful on well-drained, moist, and ultra-rich soils.

The varieties of the plum which have been intro­duced from Japan are so numerous that they have become quite common in various sections. A recent and very popular importation is the Satsuma blood,

which, being hardy, w i l l probably thrive better in the North than some of the other kinds. The flesh of this fru it is solid, of a purplish crimson

G I A N T L O Q U A T .

O ne-half actual size

J A P A N E S E W I N E B E R R Y .

O ne-half actual size.

color from pit to skin, juicy, and of fine quality, the pit being no larger than that of a cherry. The tree is a vigorous grower, with brownish-red bark and lanceolate foliage.

The elaeagn u s lon g ip es is another beautiful shrub from Japan, belonging to the olive family. It is of a dense, bushy growth, from five to six feet in height, the foliage being, like that of the wineberry, of a dark green hue with silvery underlining. In May the blossoms first appear, and the shrub is soon cov­ered with a profuse mass of small, pale yellow blossoms.The berries, which are oval in shape like an olive but rather smaller in size than the common varieties, are ripe by the early part of July ; and being of a bright scarlet color present a very handsome a p p e a r a n c e .This fruit is available for use in the same manner as the c r a n b e r r y , and the satsu m a blood plu m .shrub therefore s e r v e s a o n e -h a lf actual size.

DEMOREST’S F A M IL Y M AG AZINE.

double purpose, as i t is on e o f th e m ost beau tifu l fo r o rn am en ta l pu rp oses.

S o m e n u t-p rodu cin g trees fr o m Japan

have been acclim ated on th is continent w h ich on accou n t o f their su perior q u a lity and prolific y ie ld are b ecom in g great fa vo rites , and m ay a p ­propriately be classed w ith the fo rego in g lis t o f d essert fruits. A fa v o r ite k in d o f these is th e S ieb o ld ia n a , a species o f Japanese w a ln u t, w h ic h g r o w s w ild in th e m ou n ­tains o f N o rth ern Japan, and ea s ily adap ts it s e l f to th e c lim a te o f any section o f th e U n ite d S tates. O u r illu s tra t io n is o f a tree raised in th is cou n try , w h ic h g iv e s an id ea o f th e b eau ty

and s y m m e try o f its g r o w th and th e m an ­n er in w h ic h it fru its . F o r m a n y pu rp oses th is species is sa id to

O n e-h a lf actual size. O ne-sixth actual size.

J A P A N E S E W A L N U T .

he superior to o th e r v a r ie tie s . I t is e a s ily p rop a ga ted , g ro w s w ith grea t v ig o r , m atu res ea r ly , b ea rs w h e n yo u n g , an d is b o th more re liab le and p ro lific than a n y o th e r k in d . T h e le a v e s are large and o f a b ea u tifu l g r e e n h u e ; i t b ea rs lo n g , p en ­dent catkins, and c lu s ters o f f lo w e rs c ro w n ed w ith p u rp le stigmas, at th e sam e tim e , and th e trees p resen t a v e r y h an d ­some appearance. T h e n u ts g r o w in c lu s ters o f fifte e n o r tw en ty ; th e m eat is sw ee t an d o f su p er io r q u a lity .

N o th in g fin e r th an th e Japan g ia n t ch estn u t h as y e t been developed, th e fru it b r in g in g h ig h e r p r ices th an a n y o th e r in the m arket. T h e n u ts a re v e r y la rg e , and som e o f th e bu rrs contain fro m fo u r to seven n uts. T h is is am o n g th e fin est o f the Japanese va r ie tie s , an d w i l l b e an a ck n o w led ged fa vo rite as soon as it has b een c u lt iv a te d su ffic ien tly fo r a supply to b e g e n e ra l in th e m arkets .

A lto ge th er w e h a ve b o rro w ed q u ite fr e e ly fro m th e fru its o f Japan con s iderin g h er lim ited resou rces in th is d ire c t io n ; and the reports o f th e P o m o lo g ic a l S ection o f th e D ep a rtm en t o f A gricu ltu re , at W a s h in g to n , a re a u th o r ity fo r th e sta tem en t

Vol. X X X .--M a y , 1894. 30

ELAEAGNUS LONGI PES. O n e -h a lf ac tu a l size.

t h a t m o s t o f t h e v a r i e t i e s i n t r o d u c e d c a n b e p r o f i t a b l y

g r o w n b y t h e A m e r i c a n c u l t i v a t o r . L e s l i e K a n e.

O ne-ha lf actual size o f nut.J A P A N E S E G IA N T C H E S T N U T .

4 1 1

4 1 2DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E .

A Fortune By Pa lm istry .CO N S T A N C E H A Y D O N w a s sm itten w ith th e cra ze fo r

; h e r id eas w e re e n t ir e ly b o u n d b y th e lin eso f th e h ea rt an d l i fe , and th e m ou n ts o f J u p ite r and

V enu s.She s tu d ied h e r su b jec t d e e p ly , co n su lted w ith a ll th e

exp erts in th e a rt, and read m a n y p o n d ero u s v o lu m es on it. N a tu ra lly q u ick and c le v e r , sh e soon es ta b lish ed a rep u ta tio n as a reader o f ch a racter. S h e u sed h e r a ccom p lish m en t, in the m ain , as a p leasan t soc ia l on e , as o th e r g ir ls p la y th e v io lin or s in g ; b u t n o w an d th e n i t g a v e h e r a c ru e l advan tage, as on ce w h e n sh e to ld a r ic h p o rk -p a c k e r th a t she cou ld n o t m a rry h im becau se h is h an d in d ica ted th a t h e w ou ld h a v e fo u r w iv e s , and sh e d id n o t w ish to co u rt an ea rly d ea th b y b e in g th e firs t.

T h is s to ry w a s g o in g th e rou n d s w h e n G e o rg e A w k r ig h t firs t m et h er. H e h a d d ec id ed th a t sh e w a s a s illy , h ea rtless l i t t le th in g , and , th o u g h h e soon fo r g o t th a t o p in io n an d f e l l u n d er th e s p e ll o f h e r s w ee t n a tu re an d m a g n e tic c lev e rn ess , h e re fu s ed to le t h is h an d b e s tu d ied . H e seem ed to h a v e l i t t le cu r io s ity r e g a rd in g h is fu tu re , la u g h ed a t th e g i r l ’ s en thu siasm fo r th e s tu d y , an d p o lit e ly b u t f irm ly d ec lin ed to b e lie v e th a t th e re w a s a n y th in g b u t v a g u e g e n e ra lit ie s in h e r re v e la t io n s .

H e tea sed h e r u n t il h e r fa ith b ecam e q u ite sh aken , she lo s t c o n fid en ce in h e rs e lf, m ade m is ta k es , an d b ega n , e v e n t­u a lly , to h a te th e v e r y n am e o f p a lm is try ; h o w e v e r , sh e d id n o t w is h M r . A w k r ig h t to gu es s h is v ic to r y , an d in th e ir d iscu ss ion s th e m o re sh e w e a k e n e d a t h ea rt, th e firm e r she a p p ea red on th e su rfa ce .

O n e d a y th e y n e a r ly cam e to an o p en ru p tu re .“ D o y o u r e a lly m ean to s a y ,” h e sa id , a t th e en d o f a lo n g

a rg u m en t, “ th a t i f y o u sa w , o r im a g in e d y o u saw , in a m an ’s h an d th a t h e w a s g o in g to b e a m u rd e re r o r a b a n k ro b b e r, th a t y o u w o u ld n ’t m a r ry h im b ecau se y o u ’d b e lie v e th a t w as h is fa t e ? ”

“ I c e r ta in ly sh o u ld d ro p h is a cq u a in ta n ce a t o n ce ,” she a n s w e re d , f irm ly .

T h e s e d iscu ss ion s to o k a g o o d d ea l o f th e ir t im e an d so­c ie ty ; th e y d isa g reed , b u t th e ir a ttra c t io n fo r each o th e r w a s u n d o u b te d ; th e y m ig h t q u a r re l an d p a r t in a n g e r , b u t th e n e x t d a y M r . A w k r ig h t w o u ld g r a v ita te to w a rd s C on ­stan ce , a t a d in n e r o r a dan ce , as th o u g h th e ir id eas ran s m o o th ly in a s in g le c h a n n e l. P e rh a p s , in d eed , h e fo u n d th e g i r l m o re a m u s in g th a n i f th e y h ad .

O n e s p r in g d a y th e y w e re b o th s ta y in g a t a fr ie n d ’s c o u n try -h o u se . In th e tw i l ig h t , w h e n m o s t o f th e gu es ts h ad ta k e n th e m s e lv e s to th e ir ro o m s to sn a tch an h o u r ’s rest b e fo r e d in n e r , M r . A w k r ig h t fo u n d C on stan ce c u r le d u p in a h e a p in a c o rn e r o f a b ig o a k s e tt le in th e h a l l ; sh e h ad a n o v e l an d a b o x o f ca n d y b es id e h e r , b u t th e b o o k w as u n o p en ed as sh e d r e a m ily g a z e d in to th e fir e o f b ig lo g s th a t b la z e d p le a s a n t ly , f o r th e r e w a s s t i l l a l in g e r in g c h ill o f w in te r in th e A p r i l a ir .

H e sa t d o w n on th e o th e r en d o f th e s e ttle , lo o k e d a t th e t i t le o f th e b o o k , w h ic h h e n o ted w a s n o t on p a lm is try , and d is p la c e d th e b o x o f c a n d y w ith a m a scu lin e ex p re ss io n o f w o n d e r a t a g i r l ’s d e s tr o y in g h e r a p p e t ite b y e a t in g ch oco - la te s a t f iv e o ’c lo c k .

" I ' v e s o m e th in g s p e c ia l th a t I w a n te d to ta lk to yo u a b o u t ,” h e sa id , “ a n d I ’m so g la d to fin d y o u a lon e fo r a m o m e n t .”

" I h o p e y o u a re n o t g o in g to tease , b ecau se I ’m re s t in g u p f o r th e e v e n in g . I w o n 't le t y o u s ta y u n less y o u so lem n ly p ro m is e n o t t o q u a r r e l. ”

O h , I d id n ’ t c o m e to tea se , I w a n ted to te l l y o u th a t yo u h a v e m a d e a n e w c o n v e r t . Y o u see , M iss H a yd o n , y o u ’v e

ta lk e d so m u ch to m e a b o u t p a lm is try th a t at last I 'v e begun to b e lie v e in i t ; and , d o y o u k n o w , y e s te rd a y I w en t toC -------and h ad m y h a n d e x a m in e d .”

T h e g i r l ra ised h e r s e lf fr o m th e n es t o f s o ft p illo w s in w h ic h sh e w a s lo u n g in g , an d s c ru tin iz ed h is fa c e ; he

yo u r

w ase v id e n t ly in earn est.

“ W h a t d id h e te ll y o u ? ” sh e a sked , e a g e r ly .M r . A w k r ig h t s ta red g lo o m ily in to th e fire .“ O h , h e to ld m e a lo t o f s tu ff, a b o u t th e past that was

tru e , b u t i t ’s th e fu tu re th a t ’s b o th e r in g m e, M iss H aydon . I su ppose i f h e to ld th e t ru th a b o u t th e past, h e m ust be r ig h t a b ou t th e fu tu re , d o n ’t y o u ? ”

“ Y e s , ” sa id th e g ir l , “ b u t w h a t d id h e say abou t fu tu re ? ”

“ H e sa id th a t I sh a ll m eet, a t a cou n try -h o u se , v e r y soon, th e la d y w h o m I sh a ll m a r ry ; sh e is a w id o w , a b lon d lady o f g r e a t m u s ica l a b il i t y .”

“ O h ! ” sa id Constance. (S h e w as n ot a w id o w , h e r h a ir w a s b ro w n , and sh e cou ld n o t p la y a n o te on a n y k in d o f an in s tru m en t.)

T h e r e h ad com e d o w n , on th e a fte rn o o n tra in , a fra il, b lo n d la d y , d ressed in b la ck , w ith a co q u e ttish w id o w ’s b on n et, a m o n g w h o se p a ra p h ern a lia C onstance had seen a v io lin case. T h e fo rtu n e , i f w h a t C onstance had h eard o f th e fa sc in a tion s o f th e ch a rm in g M rs. D a r ly p ro v e d correct, m ig h t in d eed p ro v e tru e .

"T h e g ir l I lo v e , ” con tin u ed A w k r ig h t , g lo o m ily , “ can ’tin th e rem o tes t w a y b e ca lled a w id o w ; b u t s in ce a w id o w ism y fa te , I su ppose th e re ’s n o u se in m y a sk in g h e r to h a v e m e .”

“ P e rh a p s she doesn ’t b e lie v e in p a lm is try and w ou ld th in k y o u w e re e x tre m e ly fo o lis h to be gu id ed b y i t . ”

T h a t s th e w o rs t o f i t ; sh e does b e lie v e in it. She once said— ”

" I d o n 't c a r e w h a t s h e s a id ,” c r ied Constance, w ith a sobI h a te p a lm is try ! I t ’ s a l l nonsense ! I k n o w I m ade u p

h a l f th e th in g s I u sed to say. O h ! ” and she b u ried h er fa ce in th e b ig cush ions.

" T h e r e m a y b e som eth in g in it, a fte r a l l , ” said M r A w k r ig h t , a fe w m in u tes la te r , h o ld in g Constance’s l i t t le hand in h is b ig one, “ becau se th e tou ch o f y o u r hand te lls m e th a t I am g o in g to m a rry yo u ,— o n ly I sh a ll n ot w a it f o r y o u to b e a w id o w .”

P o l l y K i n g .

Society Fads.T H E m u sica l stars th a t du rin g th e sp rin g h ave flashed

across th e socia l firm am ent o f N e w Y o rk shook th e du st o f ou r tow n lin g e r in g ly and w ith honest regre t

fr o m th e ir re lu c tan t fe e t . T h e nob le arm y o f m asculine m in ­stre ls , P o le s and F ren chm en m ostly , h ave not on ly been lion ­ized to th e ir h ea rts ’ conten t, bu t hum ored and petted by th e p re tty y o u n g w om en in a w a y tha t has qu ite tu rned th e ir heads. T h e re w as S lav in sk i, fo r instance ; he p layed to- c ro w d ed hou ses, and w as th e gu est o f honor at num bers o f b ea u tifu l d inners. T h e re h e m et th e p re tty g ir ls , w h o fou n d h im c le v e r and agreeab le . T h e y fla ttered h im m ore subtly th an C leopa tra o f E g y p t , b y a sort o f reveren tia l, w orsh ip fu l a ttitu d e th e y took . T h e y asked h im to cosy lit t le teas in th e co rn ers o f th e ir m am m as’ d raw in g-room s. T h e y ta lked to h im q u ite s c ien tifica lly o f h is art, o f h is g rea t lifew o rk . W h e n a t len g th , rad ian t w ith so m uch fla tte ry , h e w ou ld go to the p ian o, and in th e fir e lig h t p la y strange, yearn in g pieces o f m usic, th e c le v e r g ir ls w o u ld snatch som e p iece o f jew e lry fr o m th roa t o r w ris t, and b e g h im to k eep it in rem em brance o f th em and th e m ost id ea l a ftern oon o f th e ir lives . W h en

DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M AG AZINE.413

the g re a t p ian is t d id a t le n g th tea r h im s e lf a w a y fr o m a ll the in to x ic a tin g adu la tion , h e ca rr ied q u ite a l i t t le ca ske t o f assorted fem in in e je w e lr y w ith h im . On on e sh a p e ly w r is t he w ore a p la in g o ld b a r b race le t, an d in s id e h is s t if f w h ite c o l­lar a s tr in g o f p e r fe c t p ea rls . T h e s e h ad b een p ressed u pon him b y a g rea t la d y fo r w h o se fa ir sa k e u n d ou b ted ly S lav in - ski g a lla n tly p rom ised to w e a r th em fo re v e r .

T h e a tten tion s a y o u n g F ren ch v io lin is t re c e iv e d has m ade him q u ite a r iv a l o f th e p ian is t, fo r n o t o n ly does h e re ce iv e flow ers and je w e ls fro m h is d eb u ta n te adm irers , b u t h is h ea lth is a lso w a tch ed o v e r b y them . T h e o th e r d a y th e v io lin is t ’s secretary w as sen t fo r b y a y o u n g la d y w h o g iv e s m an y d e ligh tfu l and co s tly p r iv a te m usica les . T h e v io lin is t exp ec ted that she w ish ed to en ga ge h im fo r som e fe s t iv a l o f th e so rt at h er h ou se ; bu t ju d g e o f h is aston ish m en t w h en th e secre­tary cam e back lo n g o f fa c e and w ith a m enu w r it te n ou t m ore su itab le fo r an in v a lid th an a rob u st y o u n g F ren ch m an . Th e ten der-h earted y o u n g h e iress fe lt su re h er fa v o r ite m u ­sician lo ok ed w o rn and ex h a u s ted w ith h is w in te r ’s con cert tour, so she had con su lted h e r o w n p h ys ic ian in h is b e ­half, and fo r a w e e k e v e r y m o rn in g fr o m h e r o w n k itch en w ere sen t th e d a in tiest d ish es ca lcu la ted to tem p t th e m ost fastid ious appetite . I t seem s, a lso , she s tr ic t ly en jo in ed th e p riva te sec re ta ry to see th a t h is e m p lo y e r w a s in b ed b y ten o ’clock, h ad a d r iv e in th e open a ir e v e r y d ay , and w as sh ielded fr o m a ll u n n ecessary e x c ite m e n t; a t w h ic h th e secretary b ow ed to h id e th e sm ile o f ir rep ress ib le am u sem en t cu rlin g abou t h is lip s .

In th e sp r in g th e re is n ot th e lea s t te ll in g in w h a t d irec tion the fa n cy o f th e a v e ra g e y o u n g w om an o f fa sh ion w i l l l ig h t ly tu rn ; and w h o cou ld h a ve fo r e to ld th a t a su dden d es ire to rush in to p r in t w ou ld b e th e la te s t fa n cy o f th e y o u n g e r set? It is so, h o w eve r . E v e r y o th e r p re tty g i r l one m eets h as a b ig inkstain on h er p en -fin gers, an d a t ired l i t t le w r in k le in h e r forehead. T h en by-an d -by , o v e r th e teacu ps, sh e g ro w s confidentia l, and, b lu sh in g , con fesses th a t she h as don e a s to ry fo r " T h e F in de S iec le ” o r a p oem fo r th e “ L y r e and L u te .” I t ’s a s to ry about soc ie ty fo lk , and v e r y p o s s ib ly a p o em w ith 'lo ve fo r its them e ; and th en she pou rs ou t h e r b u rn in g am ­b itions to be m ore than a so c ie ty b u tte r fly . I t s a l l v e r y fin e, bu t th ere is m uch p rom p tin g o f v a n ity and a sec re t y e a rn in g fo r n o to r ie ty beh in d a ll these am ateu r e ffo r ts th a t se ld om do the l it t le au thoresses g rea t cred it.

F o r a ll ills th a t flesh is h e ir to , ta k e th e e le c tr ic cu re, the w om en a re ann ou ncin g to on e an oth er. B y th e dozens, nay the hundreds, th e y a re flo ck in g to th e p r e t t i ly a p p o in ted rooms o f a certa in M rs. S om ebody o r o th e r w h o s ta rted th e c lever e lec tr ic boom , and ja d ed n e rve s a re u n d e rg o in g a ton ing up a fte r th e w in te r ’s rou n d o f h e a v y d in n ers , la te suppers, and such lik e d iss ipa tion s. E v e r y id le w om an , reasoned th is w ise M adam , w h o m an ip u la tes th e e le c tr ic button, has som e ch erish ed a ilm en t o r o th e r ; h a l f o f it , o f course, p u re ly im ag in a ry , th e o th e r h a l f th e re su lt o f to o much rid ing in ca rriages and fa r in g o f f r ich fo od s , and n o th ­in g she kn ow s can pay h e r so w e ll as to fin d a s im p le cu re fo r all these i l l fee lin gs . T h e n o v e lty o f m assage has w o rn o ff som ewhat, and so she has ap p ea red as th e h ig h p ries tess o f a new sure cure.

It is d e lig h tfu l to see h e r trea t th e d is tin gu ish ed p r e t ty patients w ho resort to h er fo r r e lie f. S h e has th e da in test little parlor and dress in g-room s im ag in ab le , w ith c le v e r

maids in attendance. H er m ost p o p u la r o ffice -h ou rs a re in the m orning o r la te a ftern oon s. A n y o n e w h o is to u n d ergo treatment exchanges h er g o w n and bon n et fo r a so ft , p r e t ty w rapper and easy lit t le T u rk ish s lipp ers , and th e m a id le ts

d o w n h e r hair. T h en M adam th e e lec tr ic ian , as th e p o o r s u f­fe r e r fro m headaches, in d iges tion , n ervou sn ess , o r in som nia, lie s on a d o w n y d iva n am on g m an y p illo w s , ta lk s o v e r th e sym p tom s o f th e case in a lo w , so o th in g vo ic e , and g iv e s th e e le c tr ic ity as sh e ju d g e s best. S om etim es one g e ts it m o s tly in th e so les o f one’s f e e t ; aga in , a t in y stream o f it on th e to p o f on e ’s h ead ; and on e is en cou raged to ta k e a l i t t le n ap o r lie fo r h a lf an h o u r w ith c lo sed eyes . W h e n en ou gh e le c ­tr ic ity has b een tak en , a m a id b ru sh es ou t o n e ’s lo n g h a ir , ru bs on e a l i t t le , a fa ce -b a th w ith p e r fu m e is o ffe red , and a w a y on e go es , sooth ed an d in v ig o ra ted , fo r a d a y ’s sh op p in g ,

o r a lo n g d r iv e and d in n e r-p a rty .

A w o m a n o f soc ia l s ta n d in g h as set th e fa sh io n fo r flo ra l d ecora tion in d ra w in g -ro o m s th is sp r in g . S h e is a p erson w h o in L o n d o n is ask ed to th e e x c lu s iv e l i t t le a fte rn o on s in S ir F red e r ick L e ig h to n ’s, W a t ts ’ , B o u gh to n ’s, an d A lm a - T a d em a ’ s stu d ios ; and th e re she sa id sh e lea rn ed th e a rt o f u s in g flo w e rs as th e o rn am en ts o f room s. O n ly certa in f lo w ­ers a re adap ted to vases , an d th o se m u st b e b o th lo n g ­stem m ed and g r a c e fu l ; m ore th an th is , f lo w e rs m u st n e v e r be m assed, bu t tw o , th ree , o r fo u r o n ly can o ccu p y o n e vase , and th a t va se m u st in sh ape o r c o lo r som ew h a t resem b le th e flo w e rs it con ta in s. F o r ex a m p le , sh e b ega n h e r ser ies o f t in y sp r in g teas, on T u esd a y a fte rn o on s , b y u s in g o n ly tu lip s and d a ffo d ils . O n ta b le s an d in n iches, on m a n te l-sh e lf, b rack et, and in s id e w in d o w -s ill, sm a ll b o u q u e ts o f th e se y e l ­lo w flo w e rs n od d ed g a ily in lo n g -n e c k e d y e l lo w o r g re e n g la s s vases , in c lu s ters o f th re e an d fo u r , and on h e r tea -ta b le w e re f iv e vases ; th o se th a t s tood a lo n g th e w in d o w -s ill w e re in pots. S he ca lls h e rs ra tio n a l teas, becau se sh e n e v e r asks m o re p eo p le th a n sh e can en te rta in a t on e t im e ; and sh e w ish es th em to com e w h ile th e s u n lig h t is s t i l l s tre a m in g th ro u g h th e lo n g d ra w in g -ro o m w in d o w s , a t th e h o u r th e y d r in k te a in E n g la n d . A n o th e r ra th e r O scar W ild e - is h id ea sh e in tr o ­du ced a t th ese teas : as sh e s e rv ed th e fr a g ra n t cu ps w ith h e r o w n h ands and th e m ascu lin e gu es ts h an d ed th em a bou t, sh e ca re le s s ly p u lled th e b lo ssom s fr o m th e va ses on th e lo w ta b le , an d la id a f lo w e r on e v e r y sau cer.

M a d a m e L a M o d e .

The W id o w ’s Match.

B U T , A u n t J u lia , I h a v e p rom ised to m a r ry D ic k in th e fa ll. I t is to o la te to b rea k w ith h im .”

" A w om a n m a y ch a n ge h e r m in d a n y t im e — u n t il she is m a rried . A n d y o u w i l l h a v e n o tro u b le a b o u t it . I w i l l m an age it fo r y o u .”

“ B u t I d o n ’t w a n t i t m a n a ged ; an d I w o n ’t m a r ry M r . O n derd on k . I ju s t h a te h im ! ”

“ C la ra M o b y le ! Y o u m u st n e v e r h a te a r ic h m a n .”" H e ’s so v e ry o ld .”" A s tro n g a rgu m en t in fa v o r o f m a r ry in g h im .”" O h ! A u n t ! H o w co ld -b lo od ed y o u a re ! ”

C o ld b lo o d is n o t g u i l t y o f o n e fo l ly w h e re h o t b lo o d p e r ­p e tra tes ten . I d o n ’t w o n d e r y o u p r e fe r D ic k D a r le y , H e is y o u n g , g o o d - lo o k in g , ta len ted , and is a g e n t le m a n . B u t — h e h as no m o n e y .”

“ H e w i l l b e a la w y e r , and h e w r ite s b e a u t ifu l th in g s . W e h a v e n o fe a rs o f th e fu tu r e .”

“ I su ppose n ot. N o r d id M r. A v id e a n d I w h e n w e m a r ­r ied on n o th in g . W e l iv e d in a sm a ll fla t f o r s e v e n yea rs . I tu rn ed m y g o w n s , d y e d m y g lo v e s , re - tr im m ed m y o ld h a ts , and d id th e h o u s e w o rk w h e n w e c o u ld n o t a ffo rd to k e e p a g ir l. I sa w m y s e lf a d ra g on m y h u sban d , an d b e lie v e d th a t h e fe l t it. O u r v e n tu re w a s a fa ilu re . C are k ic k e d L o v e o u t

414 DEMOREST'S FAMILY MAGAZINE.

of the window, and even Courtesy sometimes perched on the sill, ready for flight. Fortune came at last, but by sheer luck, not because we earned it, or deserved it any more than thousands do to whom it never comes,— your own parents, for instance. I mean to save you from the folly which cost us so dear. Marry Mr. Onderdonk, and you will have an as­sured future holding for you all your heart can desire of dress, jewels, horses, carriages, superb home, amusements, society,— all the lovely, luxurious world that belongs only to the rich. Marry Dick, and you will plunge into a precarious existence of mean economies and privations, if not actual poverty ; care will age you before your time, and you will realize, too late, that the struggle for mere life, in which your husband is involved on your account, condemns him to a hopeless future of mediocrity and to il; and perhaps he will tell you so, then. Now which marriage would be best?”

" Oh ! " sobbed Clara, “ I would never be a burden on Dick ; I love him too well. Sooner than that, I would give him up altogether.”

“ A sensible decision ; and you will see it so in the future, even more than now. Go and bathe your eyes, my dear, or you will not be presentable in case anyone should call.”

“ Dick will come ; he said he would. And how can I see him,— with such wicked treachery in my heart?”

“ Stop your crying, child. Crying makes wrinkles come. You will not need to see him. Leave everything to me.”

Clara submissively went to bathe her eyes, but to stop crying was beyond her power until the cry had “ cried itself out.” The idea of rebelling against the domination of her resolute and forceful aunt did not once occur to her. Mrs. Avide placidly resumed her reading of the book that lay in her lap while she so cruelly demolished the poor girl’s dreams of happiness. The widow, still on the sunny side of forty, was large, plump, creamy white, and possessed of no small share of beauty, though perhaps rather more mascu­line and forceful than most men would have deemed allur­ing to matrimonial intents. That she remained so long a widow was a fact she secretly contemplated with anger, and sometimes with poignant regret; and, really, it was absurd that she, with her ripe charms and substantial wealth, shouldwear “ weeds,” while a penniless chit of a girl like Clara-------

Mr. Darley was announced, and she received him with e m p re ssem ent. After a little unimportant preliminary chat, she said to him :

" I have something serious to say to you. I suspect you of putting in Clara’s little head some reprehensible ideas— about love and marriage.”

“ Do you mean that love and marriage are reprehensible ideas, Mrs. Avide ? ”

“ N o t always,— for those who can afford them ; but c ir c u m ­stances alter cases.”

“ You emphasize the circumstances?”“ Intentionally.”“ Ours are not at all hopeless.”" Everything at all dependent upon hope is practically

hopeless. The word is delusive. Frankly, leaving hope out of the question, for it is not at all a resource, as you very well understand, how could you support a w i f e ? Remem­ber, Mr. Darley, I have nothing against you personally,— indeed, I like and respect you very m uch; but I must look out for Clara's interests.”

“ A tabulated statement of my resources, minus hope, would not, I fear, be impressive.”

" Could you maintain Clara in the style to which she is accustomed ? ”

‘ ‘ Perhaps not quite, just at first, but I hope-------”“ Don’t ! Hope leads you to think you can discount the

future, but you cannot.”

" To leave out hope would blight all endeavor. One must either hope, or die. I have been admitted to the practice of the law, and hope to win fame and fortune by i t ; I am en­couraged to hope for even more immediate good results from my literary work. W h y ,” he continued, speaking jocosely, " I have written part of a drama, which, if I complete it to my own satisfaction,— which I doubt,— and find some in­fluential actor who fancies the leading role,— which is not likely,— and together we induce some manager to produce it,— which is scarcely probable,— and I am allowed to realize anything from the representations,— which is of all things the most improbable,— will certainly make for me an envi­able reputation as a playwright.”

The widow laughed heartily.“ M a y I ask one question?” pursued Dick, returning to

seriousness, and with a little trembling in his voice.“ Certainly.”“ Does Clara share now your views of the situation ?” " Yes. She sees, though unwillingly, of course, that mar­

rying you would be supreme folly, both for you and her.” The poor fellow forced a smile to his white lips as he

replied,“ It is a rather sudden shock to me. ”“ Things only seem sudden because we have not looked at

the causes of which they are the results. The unwisdom of your marriage with Clara has always been a fact.”

“ W e were sentimental, perhaps, and neglected the practi­cal side, which you see only ; and, as the world goes, you are probably right. Disparity in fortune is doubtless perilous to marital felicity.”

“ N o ; not ‘ disparity,’ but lack. There is no ‘ disparity' in this case. I have raised Clara as if she were my own daughter, with the tastes and habits of a rich girl, but she has not a dollar except what I give her. There is the trouble. Neither of you has anything. It does not matter whether the man or the woman possesses the fortune; but one or the other must have it.”

“ Nothing matters but the fortune ? ”“ Not much. Mr. Onderdonk has, practically, nothing to

recommend him but his fortune ; but, in the long run, Clara will be happier with him than she would be with you.”

“ So ! You mean that she shall marry him ? ”“ Yes. He has asked me for her hand, and she will accept

him.”" He is old as the moon. ”“ Past middle age, it is true.”“ Ugly as a gargoyle ! ”‘ ‘ He has not the beauty of youth. ”“ Coughs incessantly ! ”“ That must end,— somehow.”“ Is stupid. Only his goggles shine in society.”“ And his two millions.”“ Ah ! I forgot them.”“ Y o u should not. They give him the right to marry as

he pleases.”Dick was silent a few moments. Then he said, rather

huskily,“ Clara will return my letters, I suppose.”“ Certainly. Excuse me a few moments and I will get

them for you. "“ Thanks.”She left the room. Dick’s face was haggard and drawn by

mental pain. He sprang up, paced the room nervously, and unconsciously made a gesture of despair. Suddenly he stopped, seemed to cogitate deeply, as one to whom a hope­ful idea has suddenly occurred, brightened up, and even smiled. Mrs. Avide returned and handed to him a small casket, saying,

" Y o u will return hers?”

DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M AG A Z IN E .415

“ W ithin an hour ; as soon as I return to my hotel. I— suppose— I had better not see her ? ”

"I do not think it would be best. It could do no good.”He glanced at the objects returned,— his letters, the en­

gagement ring, some little trinkets and souvenirs. All had been given up. Laying the casket upon a stand he said, smilingly :

“ So, that is settled ; another page of life’s history turned down. And reason is on your side, Mrs. Avide. It is clearly the duty of the impecunious to marry only the wealthy,— if the latter can be induced to consent,— or else stay single. It is a good idea, but not easy of realization, I fear. Under its rule bachelors will multiply. Take my own case, for in­stance. W hat could I offer to induce a rich woman to accept m e ? ”

“ You would need to offer nothing but yourself, Mr. Dar- ley. Your talents and personal advantages give you the right to meet wealth on a plane of equality.”

" They have, thus far, realized for me nothing more than hope.”

“ W ith such a fair chance as capital and freedom from domestic care would give you, hope in your case would be quite a justifiable element in the calculation. Under such conditions your success in life would be an assured cer­tainty. ”

“ Do you feel sufficiently convinced of that to invest upon it? In other words, will you sustain your theories of life by your action? W e are both free now. You have said more in my behalf than I could venture to say for myself, and embolden me to ask you— will you accept the hand I now offer and be my w ife?”

“ W h y ! ” the widow stammered, but with sparkling eyes, “ this is very sudden, Mr. Darley.”

“ ' Things only seem sudden because we have not looked at the causes of which they are the results,' ” he quoted with a smile. “ I am serious in my offer. W ill you accept m e ? ”

“ Y o u are prompted by pique.”“ Not more than by conviction of the soundness of your

own arguments. And, even if I were, would I be any the less a good husband? Felicity depends upon financial solid­ity, not emotion.”

“ W hat would Clara think ? ”“ That I had been as wise as herself,— and more for­

tunate.”" But she might imagine I had schemed for th is ; and I

have not. ” " W h y need we consider possible imaginings prompted by

mere sentiment, and possibly resentment ? Our happiness is what concerns us ; and since we accept the same theories for its attainment, why shall we not enjoy it ? It only depends upon your consent. W ill you marry me ? ”

“ Yes,” she answered, in a modest whisper, submitting to the chaste caress custom prescribes on such occasions.

" And our wedding shall be at the same time as that of Mr. Onderdonk and Clara ? ”

“ If you so desire.” *When Dick went away the widow rather wished he had

said something about love ; but that was hardly to be ex­pected, “ and,” she reflected, “ a husband without sentiment would at least be better than no husband at all. ”

Clara pleaded a headache and did not come down to tea. A messenger brought for the girl a bundle, done up in a brown paper with a rubber band around it. Mrs. Avide, rightly judging what it was, examined its contents to see if they included a letter from Dick. No ; nothing but Clara’s letters to him, a glove, and some faded flowers. She smiled contentedly and sent them up to Clara.

Mr. Onderdonk came. A weak old man he seemed to be,

bent, walking feebly with the support of a cane, and cough­ing violently. Big, tinted goggles shielded his eyes, and with his untidily kept white hair and beard left little of his features to be seen. W ith a groan and an “ O u c h ! ” he slowly deposited himself in an easy-chair in the most ob­scure part of the room, where the light would not hurt his eyes.

“ Y o u r cough is better, is it n o t ? ” remarked the widow, in a tone of such tender sympathy as a millionaire might expect.

“ If so, I’m not aware of it,” he snarled, querulously, in a sharp voice.

“ Clara will be pleased to see you ; and I am glad you have come, as I wish you to meet Mr. Darley, who will call.”

“ I don’t know why I should meet that penniless scrib­bler.”

“ Please speak a little more respectfully of my future hus­band, Mr. Onderdonk.”

“ Oh ! You ’ve bought him, have you ? ”“ S i r ! ”“ I thought he was dangling after Clara. Rumor had

them engaged, didn’t it ? ”“ H o w absurd ! He came to see me, not her. She, dear

child ! never had any thought of a husband before meeting you. You are her first attachment, and she would be heart­broken if anything occurred to prevent her marriage with you.”

“ H u m p h ! The future is uncertain at my age, so I have ensured that she shall lose nothing but a husband should anything happen to me. I have made my will. ”

“ An excellent idea, Mr. Onderdonk. I had thought of i t . ” “ Yes ; we old folks are likely to have similar ideas.” “ ‘ W e old folks,’ indeed ! ” thought Mrs. Avide, resent­

fully. “ Insolent old beast! ”“ As I have no relations,” he coughed, “ to whom I care to

leave anything, and don’t encourage charities, I leave every­thing to Clara.”

“ O h ! how good! how thoughtful! how noble you a r e ! I must go and tell the dear child. She will be so grateful for the beautiful affection prompting the deed. She is in her room. I will call her.”

But before she had taken a step toward the door Clara entered from the back parlor. Tears were in her eyes, she carried an open letter in her hand, and when she spoke her voice trembled with emotion.

“ Y o u do not need to call me, aunt,” she said. “ I was there and heard all. I must speak. O h ! sir, I do not deserve such generous kindness, and will not be a party to deceiving you in return for your goodness. You must know the truth. I loved Dick very dearly, and I love him yet, and always shall.”

“ W h y ! W hat crazy things you are saying, C lara!” exclaimed the widow, in angry horror, gripping her arm with spiteful force. “ Do not mind what she says, Mr. Onder­donk. She has had a nervous attack, and is light-headed.”

“ Let her alone,” he answered, roughly, “ I want to hear her.”

“ Indeed I am not light-headed, sir. I tell you the truth. But my aunt insisted so much, and said it would ruin Dick’s future if he married me, and, though we were engaged, I gave him up. That I can do for his sake, but I cannot marry another man. It would not be honest for me to do so, when I shall always love Dick. I feel toward him now just as I did when I wrote him this letter which my aunt made him return to me.”

“ Let me see it,” demanded the old man, taking possession and holding it close up to his goggles.

Mrs. Avide dragged her niece away to the farther end of the parlor, and there, in a savage whisper, overwhelmed her

416 DEMOREST 'S F A M IL Y M AG AZIN E .

with censure and reproaches, to which the poor girl could only respond, tearfully :

“ I can’t help it. I do love Dick, and will not deceive Mr. Onderdonk.”

Had not the two women been so engrossed with each other they would have seen something surprising. Dexter­ously and rapidly Mr. Onderdonk unbuttoned his long, black surtout and threw it off ; with a circular sweep of his right arm over his head he made away at once with his white hair, beard, and goggles, casting all upon the floor behind him ; and sat transformed from the old man into Clara's lover. In her angry excitement Mrs. Avide said to the girl, so that he heard her :

" But, you little fool! between both stools you come to the ground. Dick Darley does not love you.”

“ That’s where you are wrong,” responded a voice, unmis­takably that of Dick himself, which made her stagger with surprise. Wheeling, she stared aghast at him and gasped,

" But— Mr. Onderdonk ! ”“ Has gone, leaving me to represent him,” answered the

young man, with a grin. “ After reading Clara’s letter he was in a hurry to go, and he never will return with any designs in which she can have any personal concern. But Dick remains, loving and steadfast to his Clara as she has avowed herself to him.”

The happy girl, with a cry of joy threw herself into his arms.

" And,” continued Dick, “ we will return to the original programme, however unwise it may seem.”

" But you are engaged to marry me ! ”“ On the day Clara marries Mr. Onderdonk, and so I will.

But if that is not satisfactory, I am willing to let society arbitrate on your claims. I believe my old fellow-members in the Amaranth Dramatic Club will be delighted to know how well I impersonated old Mr. Onderdonk.”

Mrs. Avide shuddered at the thought of society’s laugh, and forced herself to reply, with a grim smile :

“ Everything I suppose must be pardoned a lover, and I release you. My only claim shall be to see you and Clara do not suffer too much from marrying on a capital of hope.”

J. H . C o n n e l l y .

—— ----------------- > ♦ < ------------------------

Plants for Cemetery Use.

P LANTS for use in the cemetery ought to be free bloomers, good growers, able to get along with very

little attention after planting, and, above all, hardy. A tender plant is out of place there, no matter now beauti­ful it may be, because most persons cannot give it the pro­tection it must have in order to endure our long and severe winters.

These requirements necessarily limit us in our selection. W e have but few plants that are free bloomers, robust enough to get along with but little care, and perfectly hardy. Let me say, just here, that I am not one of those persons who consider no flower suitable for cemetery use unless it is white. I believe all colors are appropriate there. God made all colors, all flowers ; and they are appropriate any­where where the use of a flower is justifiable.

Among the shrubs the hydrangea is perhaps best adapted for cemetery use, because it is so extremely hardy, and because it is a very late bloomer. It is also very profuse in flowering. These qualities give it a place near the head of the list, if not quite at the head. Success with it is reasonably certain if it be planted in a rich soil and grass

be kept from choking it. It has a much more symmetrical habit of growth than most shrubs if left to take care of itself, and this is another point in its favor. If one has a large lot, I would suggest planting several hydrangeas in a group. The effect of half a dozen plants placed so close together that they seem to be one great plant when de­veloped is very fine. The result is much more satisfactory than where the same number of plants are scattered about the lot.

Deutzias gracilis and crenata are very desirable shrubs. They are not large growers, therefore care should be exer­cised in planting them. Never make the mistake of getting them in the background. Give them a place near the front of the lot, where their beauty can be f u l l y displayed. These are much more effective if grouped than when planted singly.

The weigelias are medium-sized shrubs. They form a rounded, compact plant if cut back somewhat during the first year or two, and are more effective planted singly than most of our shrubs are. There are several fine varieties in rose and red, and one good white sort which can be used very effectively in combination with the red, because of the con­trast it affords.

The old purple lilac is admirably adapted to cemetery use on a lot where there is no tree and where a large shrub would be effective as a substitute. It is one of the most beautiful of all our shrubs, blooms early and profusely, and is entirely able to take care of itself. It can be made to take on a tree form if thought best, by allowing but one stalk to grow ; but I prefer to grow it as a shrub, because that seems to be its natural form. The Persian lilac is a more graceful variety than the old sort, because of its slenderer habit. Its flowers are very beautiful, but hardly as sweet as those of the other. There is a white lilac that would be pretty were it not for the fact that its flowers are produced so far down among the terminal leaves of the branches that they are half hidden by them. It is not so free a bloomer as the other sorts named.

The Japan quince, or cydonia, is a very charming early bloomer. Its flowers are a rich, shining scarlet. It is a somewhat low grower, therefore should have a place in the foreground.

One of the most beautiful shrubs for the lower belt of the Northern States is exoch o rd a gra n d ifl o r a , introduced a few years ago from China. It becomes a neat, compact bush eight or ten feet high, and by pruning can be made to take on almost any desired shape. It is extremely beautiful. Its flowers are borne in loose, pendulous racemes on slender branches that bend gracefully beneath their burden of bloom. Before opening, each flower looks like a bead of pearly white­ness, so round and perfect is it. On opening, it shows a delicate tint of green in the center, which, by contrast, makes the white of the petals seem purer. This plant is somewhat rare as yet, but as soon as its great merit becomes fully* known it will be a general favorite ; it is also called s p i r aea grandifl o r a . I hardly think it hardy enough to be depended on at the extreme North, though leading nurserymen claim that it is. I have one growing on my grounds, but it is given protection each season. I have been too afraid of losing it to experiment with it in order to fully test its hardiness. South of Chicago it is doubtless entirely hardy : and well established plants may succeed farther north. The spiraeas p r u n i f o l ia and V a n H o u tte i are excellent shrubs of low growth. Both are white.

One of the most desirable plants for cemetery use with which I am familiar is, strange to say, but very little known. W h y it is not more extensively grown I cannot say. It is perfectly hardy ; it has pretty evergreen foliage, and beauti­ful pink flowers borne in clusters at the ends of the branches. It blooms at intervals during the season. For front rows it

DE MOREST’S F A M IL Y M A G A Z IN E . 417

is very desirable, being of low, spreading habit. Its name is Daphne mezereu m . I think it is somewhat difficult to propagate, and this probably accounts for its scarcity.

The best white rose for cemetery planting is Madame Plantier, a most profuse bloomer, entirely hardy. The

rugosa varieties, with their rich, crinkled foliage, are very pretty, as the seed-pods are quite as effective as flowers.

Among hardy perennial or herbaceous plants, the Achillea is a general favorite because of its constant flowering habit. It is very hardy. The flowers are small, but borne in such clusters all over the plant that a brave show is made by them. They are pure white, and double.

The anemone (J a p o n ic a ) is an old favorite, as it well de­serves to be. It begins to bloom in September, as a gen­eral thing, and continues to flower until cold weather sets in A lb a is pure white, with yellow center ; ru b ra rosy purple. Both these varieties are single. A new variety has been recently introduced under the name of “ W hirlwind,” that is quite double. It is evidently a chance seedling from A. alba, and it must prove a grand acquisition to the list of desirable plants for cemetery use.

The herbaceous spiraeas are among our most beautiful plants. P a lm a ta bears great, plume-like spikes of most graceful, delicate flowers on stalks that lift them well above the foliage. This variety is bright rose. A lb a is pure white. These are very effective when planted together.

The perennial phloxes are very desirable because they are so self-reliant. They do enough better with good care to make it well worth while to give it, but they can get along very well with next to no care, and on this account they should be widely planted by those who cannot give much attention to plants on the cemetery lot. They are wonder­ful bloomers, continuing until very late in the season, and we have no plant making a greater show of rich and delicate color. The rose and carmine varieties are finest ; and there are several good white varieties that can be used with them.

There are two varieties of phlox sub la ta— commonly called moss pink—that are very suitable for cemetery use, because of their low growth. They form a cushion of foliage almost completely covered with flowers. One variety is pure white, the other, rose-colored.

Coreopsis la n ceo la ta is a very pretty yellow flower. It is

most effective when planted with flowers of other colors yellow giving tone to the group that it can gain in no other way. A few yellow flowers have the effect on other colors that sunshine has, and no garden is complete without them. This plant is very hardy, and blooms through the entire season.

Some of the early spring-blooming bulbs should be planted on every cemetery lot ; snowdrops and crocuses will open the season almost as soon as the snow vanishes, and the narcissus, hyacinth, and tulip will bridge over the interval between them and the early annuals. Lilies are charming plants for the cemetery, but one must confine his selection to the hardier sorts, like s p e c io s u m a lb u m and ru b ru m . W hat a magnificent plant L i l i u m a u r a tu m would be for this purpose if it could be depended on !

In locations where there is considerable coolness and moisture, the Japanese iris succeeds admirably. Its range of colors is wonderful ; one gets the idea that a rainbow has got tangled up among the plants. The lily of the valley succeeds under similar conditions.

It is impossible to give advice that will be of much value in regard to the arrangement of plants on cemetery lots, be­cause conditions differ so widely. In order to give intelli­gent advice, one must know the size of the lot, its shape, and general outline. About the only general advice that can be given is, avoid the mistake of over-planting, that is, planting so many shrubs or plants that the lot will have a cluttered-up, crowded look ; and concentrate your plants in groups, rather than scatter them all over. Group them at the side or back. If the lot is large enough to admit of it, have several groups ; but on a lot of ordi­nary size one large group is quite enough. The same rule holds good here that applies to the lawn ; there should be a broad stretch of beautiful sward in order to secure the most pleasing effect. Break it up by planting shrubs all over it, and its charm is destroyed ; therefore, group your plants in such a manner as to leave a large portion of it free, and the beauty of both will be heightened by the effect of contrast and distance. A lot planted in this manner looks as large again as one of the same size on which the shrubs have been evenly planted all over its surface.

E b e n E . R e x f o r d .

Our Girls.

Helen’s Gift.W HAT I am going to tell you happened during Helen’s

holiday visit in the city ; and the temptation came in such an unexpected guise that she did not, at first,

recognize that it was a temptation at all.The fact that her slender wardrobe was not to be compared

with those of her friends Rita and Madeline Stratton did not trouble her in the least,— Helen was too sensible for that,— and she was so bright and full of tact, and entered into everything that was proposed with such genuine enjoyment and good spirits, that she won all hearts. Even Tom said she was the nicest girl he had come across in a long while,— “ no fuss nor frills about her,”— which was high praise from that young gentleman considering he was nine­teen years old, at Columbia, and rather given to looking down on girls of sixteen or seventeen. But departing from his usual exclusiveness in this instance, he and his mother’s young guest became good friends, so good. that Tom found

himself talking to her with a feeling of freedom and interest that surprised himself as much as it pleased his sisters and Helen.

Coming in one afternoon from taking a violin lesson,— she was making use of every minute of her time in the city, Helen ran into the library and knelt before the bright open fire to warm her fingers before going upstairs to dress, and to look for Rita and Madeline, whom she expected to find in their room. The sound of voices, however, from the parlor, which was divided from the library by heavy por­tieres, soon assured her that her friends were there enter­taining some late callers, so she opened her coat and settled herself on the tiger-skin rug to indulge in some castle build­ing in the dancing, ruddy flames. Presently some sentences spoken in the other room made their way to Helen’s far-away senses.

“ She’s the dearest little thing,— though after all she s not, so little, either,— and so fascinating ! She has perfectly bewitched us all, even Tom ,” said Mrs. Stratton’s voice.

4 1 8DEM OREST'S FAMILY M AGAZINE.

“ I'm going to band Cousin Henry over to her when he comes. I am curious to see if she can fascinate him,” putin Rita's laughing voice.

“ If she can make an impression in that quarter she must indeed be a remarkable young lady.” This was in a strange voice, the caller's. “ Is she so pretty ? ”

“ She's got a sweet little face,” answered Rita, warmly,“ and if she were dressed handsomely she'd be one of the prettiest girls in our set; and with her charming manners she'd be sure to be a belle. Doesn't she look sweet in that pink gown of hers, mamma ? ”

But Helen heard no more ; she sprang to her feet with scarlet cheeks, and stealing noiselessly out of the library flew up to her room in a whirl of astonishment and delight. They meant h e r ! She was the only one in the house who ever wore a pink dress; and they thought her " fascinating ” ! “ bewitching ” ! She, a mere girl of sixteen ! And pretty, too !

Helen went over to the mirror and looked closely at herself. The clear pink and white of her complexion, the pretty waves in her thick brown hair, the curves of her well- shaped mouth, and the brilliancy of the brown eyes that shone back at her from her mirror had all been seen before, many a time, but never as now ; and the thought that gave her most pleasure to dwell upon was that she was more than pretty,— fascinating ! bewitching ! Ah, that appealed to an unsuspected weak place in Helen's character. She would rather be a fascinating, bewitching girl, she thought, going over the words with delighted persistence, than a pretty one. How perfectly delightful to have people think and speak of one as a most charming and agreeable girl, — fascinating ! bewitching ! And who was Cousin Henry ? W as he so very difficult to please? W ell, let him b e ; all the more satisfaction would it be to have him agree with Mrs. Stratton and Rita’s opinion. W h at would mother and the brothers and sisters at home say when they heard what these clever society people thought of her ? A little feeling of home-longing which had lurked in her heart all day now fled away, and Helen sang softly as she put on her pink gown to go down to dinner.

A few days after this Cousin Henry arrived. In confi­dence, just before, Rita had told Helen, quite unaware of what the latter had overheard :

‘ ‘ Cousin Henry is really a very nice fellow, he’s so thor­oughly good and all that, you know, but he is dreadfully hard to entertain. He seems to find no pleasure at all in ladies’ society. Maddy says he fairly exhausts her, so he usually falls to m e ; and I begin to feel the need of a change, too. Do help me talk to him, Nelly, and if you can get him to talk back or show any interest whatever in anything you say, you'll give us a great surprise and we’ll owe you a vote of thanks.”

“ Certainly I will,” said Helen readily.So when Rita introduced a rather short, thick-set young

man who had a bored expression on his broad, honest-look- ing face as “ my cousin, Mr. Chadwick,” Helen gave him an engaging little smile, and entered into conversation with a bright friendliness and ease that seemed at once to arouse a slight degree of interest in her v is -a -v is .

A ll through the evening she devoted herself to Mr. Chad­wick’s entertainment. W ith delicate tact she discovered his liking for animals,— horses and dogs,— and drew him on to tell her of his summer’s experience on a ranch in Colorado. There were other guests at the house that evening, who engaged the attention of the family, but Maddy found an opportunity to whisper to Helen, “ W hat magic do you pos­sess? I’ve never heard him talk so much before.” And Mrs. Stratton gave her a meaning smile when Cousin Henry bluntly expressed his surprise at the swiftness with which the evening had passed.

Helen ran up to her room in a flutter of gratified vanity though she did not once recognize it as such. She told her­self that her elation came from having put her own feelings aside to please her friends, while in reality, at the bottom of her heart, she exulted that she, a school-girl, had succeeded where they, versed in all the arts of society, had failed. She was very tired ; it had required quite an effort to keep up that appearance of deep interest. There were really not many points in common between Mr. Chadwick and herself — she liked Tom ten times better ; but as she recalled the gradual melting of his bored indifference into pleased at­tention, and finally his slow eloquence over the joys of ranch life, her heart swelled with the consciousness of power.

It was certainly delightful to be able to make people like one, she thought, and then again mistook the glow of pride which pervaded her for pleasure that she had been able to relieve her friends of the task of entertaining a tiresome guest.

“ I suppose I ought to look after him while he's here, so as to relieve them,” was her last waking thought.

That Cousin Henry could overcome his aversion to ladies' society was made very evident during the next fortnight; for discovering that this was Helen’s first visit to the city and that her stay was limited, he endeavored to crowd as much enjoyment as was possible into each day. W ith Mrs. Stratton's help he got Up the most charming little parties to visit picture galleries, the horticultural show, the theater, and, one memorable evening, the opera. On all these occas­ions he made no secret that they were gotten up for Helen’s enjoyment, and put himself out to gratify her slightest wish with a readiness that astonished his relatives, the Strattons, and flattered Helen’s vanity immensely.

There were times, however, when she grew very tired of Mr. Chadwick's ponderous attentions ; times when she felt like calling him, as Tom did, “ an unmitigated bore ; ” times when she grew weary of simulating an interest which she did not feel. Then she would convince herself that she owed it to her kind friends to help them entertain their uncomfortable relative, and redouble her efforts to please, completely deceived as to her own motives,— until the night they went to the opera.

Helen wore her best white gown ; it was very simple, but very becoming. Mr. Chadwick had sent her a bunch of beautiful yellow roses, and she wore some fastened in the front of her dress. Her cheeks were flushed with excite­ment ; her brown eyes shining; she looked and felt happy. How could she help it? That afternoon had come a letter from home, from father, giving permission for her to extend her visit a week longer as Mrs. Stratton had asked ; and everybody was so kind, and the music was so exquisitely sweet!

A pleasant, somewhat wistful, light came into Mr. Chad­wick’s eyes as they rested on her happy face, and the lines softened about his heavy mouth. If he had expressed the thought uppermost in his mind just then it would have run something like this : " Nice little girl to have in the house, honest as the su n ! ” and an unusual emotion stirred the organ situated under the left side of his vest.

As he left the Stratton party at their own door he said to Helen, in one of his stage whispers :

" I’ve arranged with Mrs. Stratton to make up a party to drive tomorrow afternoon. I hope, Miss Helen, you’ll let me take you in my dog-cart? Daisy Bell can go like the wind.”

Tom brushed impatiently past to open the front door, and Helen’s answer was not audible.

She paused on the threshold of her door after leaving Rita and Madeline, hearing Tom’s voice in the hall below.

D E M O R E S T ’ S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .4 1 9

She wanted to speak to him. In a minute or two he came springing up the steps, and with a gruff " Good night ” made as if to pass her ; but Helen had been wishing for such an opportunity as this for several days past, and now she came forward and held out her hand.

“ W h y, Tom,” she said, in her bright, friendly way, “ it seems an age since we’ve had a talk together; and you wouldn’t even look at me when you came into the box this evening. W h at’s the matter? Now tell me ; you know we promised we’d be honest with each other as real true friends should be. Anything wrong at college? Do tell me.”

Tom had been edging away toward the upper flight of stairs, but the look of genuine distress on the sweet little upturned face appealed to him, and he turned back.

" Do you really want me to tell you the truth ? ” he demanded. His hands were stuck in his pockets, there was a portentous scowl between his straight black eyebrows, and a sternness in his tone that surprised Helen.

“ W h y, of course I do,” she said.“ W hat do you think of Mr. Henry Chadwick?” began

Tom, with sudden politeness and what seemed to Helen like entire irrelevance. “ Do you like, respect, and admire him? Is he a person with whom you would crave to spend the balance of your days? ”

“ Oh, no, indeed!” exclaimed Helen with, involuntary energy.

“ Do you care more for him than for any other male biped of your acquaintance? W ould you be willing to marry h i m ? ” pursued Tom, eying her keenly.

“ Not for the world ! I ’d die first I ” Helen cried, earnestly throwing out her hands. “ Don’t ask such silly questions, Tom. W hat ails you to-night?”

“ W ell,” said Tom, slowly, “ I a m disappointed in you.I thought you were different to the common run of girls, but I find you’re just like the rest of ’em,— as big a humbug as any of ’em.”

“ W hat have I done to deserve such a. speech?” Helen looked at him with such bewildered, reproachful eyes that Tom felt ashamed and then got provoked at himself for feeling so.

“ ‘ D o n e ’ ? ” he repeated, arching his eyebrows. " Oh, nothing at all uncommon ; only when a girl talks about the ' higher mission of woman ’ and her ‘ elevating influence over poor weak misguided man,’ and so on, it’s rather a sur­prise to see that same individual flirting for all she’s worth with the first idiot that comes along. ”

“ ' F l i r t i n g ' ! I ! — ” cried Helen, in a tone of astonished indignation, the angry blood rushing headlong to her cheeks. “ How dare you say such a thing, Tom Stratton ! I’ve never flirted in my life. I despise a girl that does such a thing.”

“ Oh, come now, I like th a t ." Tom addressed the bronze gas-fixture above Helen’s head with mocking incredulity. “ Well, if you don’t call it flirting, pray under what head would you classify the smirks and smiles and devoted atten­tion that you’ve been bestowing on that idiot Chadwick ? ”

“ You are extremely rude,” said Helen, in an offended tone, drawing herself up proudly. “ I have entertained Mr. Chadwick to please your mother and sisters.”

“ Oh, you call it entertaining, do you ? ” mocked Tom. “ ' A rose by any other name would smell as sweet. ’ ” Then with sudden wrath he added, roughly, “ Y o u can’t fool me that way, Helen. I ’m ashamed of your trying to do it. To act as you’ve done lately, smiling at a man as if you adored him, hanging on his words with breathless interest, going out with him, wearing his flowers, and all that sort of thing, when in reality you don’t care a copper cent for him, is as barefaced flirting as can be done. I’ll bet you what you like, Chadwick thinks you like him immensely, and that he has only to ask and he’ll have--------- ”

He had more to say, but the change in Helen’s face made him pause. She had grown very pale and there was a frightened, deprecating expression in her eyes quite new to them.

“ Oh, Tom ! ” she said, breathlessly, “ I didn’t mean to flirt. I never thought of such a thing. Do you really and truly suppose he thinks that I care— ? ”

“ He’s a big enough ass to think it,” Tom began, with un­necessary vituperation, then he added, honestly, “ any man would, Helen.”

“ Oh, he must know right away that I don’t care for him ,” Helen said, anxiously, ‘ ‘ but how shall I ever manage it, Tom ? ”

“ T e l l him yourself,” was the blunt reply; and seating himself sidewise on the banister Tom swung his foot with a great show of indifference.

“ Oh, indeed I couldn’t ! I c o u ld n 't ! ” Helen spread out her hands with a quick, emphatic movement, and turned her head away.

“ Of course you ‘ couldn’t ,’ that would be terrib le !” mocked Tom again. “ Y o u could do the mischief easy enough, but you haven’t the moral courage to come out and set things straight.— Tell you what it is, Helen, deep down in your heart you don’t want to lose Chadwick’s good opinion. And after the way you’ve talked to me about moral courage ! I declare, I ’ll never believe in another girl.” He got off the banister and walked towards the stairs.

“ You’re very, very hard on m e,” Helen said, unsteadily ; but Tom only answered " Good night ” in his gruffest tone as he shut his door.

That was a most unhappy night for Helen. The scales had fallen from her eyes; with deep shame and contrition she realized the true motives which had actuated her for the last few weeks. Not the desire to help or relieve her friends, but vanity, love of admiration, a craving for the good opin­ion of those with whom she came in contact, had influenced her in her behavior to Mr. Chadwick. She, Helen Keith, who had been so carefully brought up, so honorably trained, had let her miserable love of power lead her into doing the very thing she so much despised in others. Now that her eyes were opened, Helen was very honest, even severe, with herself; she felt that every word Tom had said was deserved, — not the least part of her humiliation was the loss of his good opinion,— and in default of a wiser counselor she de­termined to follow his advice and explain the true state of things to Cousin Henry. Tomorrow she would do it while they were driving ; but even as she came to this conclusion Helen shuddered and wondered if she should ever have courage enough to carry it out. She shrank from confiding in Mrs. Stratton or the girls,— they wouldn’t understand. Oh, how she longed for her mother’s wise, tender counsel. She would be ashamed of her daughter, but all the same Helen felt sure of her sympathy and help.

Very little sleep was hers that night, and it was a pale, as well as silent, little maiden who sat beside Mr. Chadwick in the tall dog-cart the next afternoon. All her bright spirits and vivacity were gone ; the mere thought of the dreadful disclosure she intended making almost turned her sick, and as Tom’s words came back to her she fairly disliked, nearly loathed, poor Cousin Henry, who, all unconscious of what awaited him, was in excellent spirits. W ith unusual ex­pansiveness he talked on all sorts of subjects, trying to be­guile Helen into conversation, but without success. Daisy Bell’s beauty and swiftness, the lovely scenery, the gay little dinner at the country inn, gave Helen no pleasure ; and she was thankful when the cavalcade started homeward again.

It was when the drive was nearly over, and Helen was getting sick with the fear that she might not be able to say what she had planned, that her opportunity came. Mr.

4 2 0 DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M AG AZIN E .

C h adw ick su dden ly said a fe w earn est w o rd s ,— th e rem em ­brance o f w h ich a lw ays h u m ilia ted H e len ,— and then she to ld h er s to ry . N o t in h er usual g ra ce fu l, fluen t m anner o r w ith th e p e r fe c t tact th a t w as natu ra l to h er, bu t in a sh y, honest, sham e-faced w ay , w ith b roken sen tences and h o t tears o f rem orse.

F o r a ll h is aw kw ardn ess and du llness and conceit th e re w as som eth in g n ob le in H en ry C h a d w ic k ; th o u gh u n d ou b ted ly su rp rised , and d eep ly h u rt, w ith cause fo r d isp leasu re, n ot one w ord o f rep roach d id h e u tter, nay, m ore, in h is c lu m sy w a y h e tr ied to sooth e H e len ’s d istress, and th a t h u rt h e r m ost o f a ll. Oh, h o w u tte r ly asham ed she fe lt !

T w o days a fte r H e len w en t hom e. R ita and M a d e lin e accom pan ied h er to th e station , and w a v e d th e ir ad ieu x as she passed th rou gh th e ga te . T o m she h ad n ot seen th a t day, and th ere w as a lit t le sore fe e lin g in H e le n ’s h ea rt as she settled h e rse lf in h e r seat in th e tra in . S he and T o m h ad been such go o d fr ie n d s ; b u t n ow h e d id n ot th in k en ou gh o f h er to even bid h e r good -b y , h e w as so d isgu sted w ith h e r b eh av ior. H e len ’s ch eeks bu rn ed and tea rs b lin d ed th e ey es w h ich stared ou t o f th e w in d ow .

Ju st th en som ebody cam e a lo n g and sat d o w n bes ide h er.“ I w ish you good -b y , M iss K e ith ,” sa id th e n ew -co m er;

and there, in th e sam e seat, a lm ost b rea th less fr o m th e haste w ith w h ich h e h ad raced o v e r fro m th e co llege , w as T o m ! H e to ld H e len h e had b r ib ed a good -n a tu red ga tem an to le t h im th rou gh , and a fte r a fe w coo l, p o lite rem arks, w h ich cam e s tra n ge ly fro m T o m , h e rose to go .

“ G o od -b y ,” h e said, in d iffe re n tly , h o ld in g ou t h is hand.“ G ood -b y ,” an sw ered H e len . T h en , sh y ly , “ I sp ok e to

M r. C h adw ick , T om , as yo u ad v ised m e to d o .”“ N o ! d id y o u ? ” and d ow n d rop p ed T o m aga in w ith an

en tire ch ange o f m anner. H e lis ten ed w ith th e deepest in te res t to a ll th a t H e len to ld h im , th en as sh e fin ish ed h e said, q u ick ly :

" I to ld you th e o th er n igh t th a t I ’d n e v e r b e lie v e in an oth er g ir l. W e l l , I w o n ’t ; I ’ l l ju s t k ee p on b e lie v in g in th e sam e one th a t I d id b e fo re , fo r y o u ’v e acted sp len d id ly , H e len , l ik e a re gu la r lit t le tru m p ! A n d , I say, I — I — b eh a ved ra th er bad ly th e o th er n igh t,— lik e a g rea t ro u gh bear. I k n o w I d id , bu t yo u see, I h a ted to th in k yo u w e re ju s t lik e th e rest o f them . N o w I k n o w y o u ’re not. D o y o u fo r g iv e m e,

N e l ly ? A r e w e g o o d fr ien d s a g a in ? ” H e h e ld H e le n ’s hand v e r y t ig h t ly , and lo o k e d a n x io u s ly a t h e r , h is e y e b ro w s a w ay u p in th e a ir.

“ T a k e d o w n y o u r e y e b ro w s , T o m ,” sa id H e le n , la u gh in g . “ I t ’s a ll r ig h t, and I ’m th a n k fu l y o u w a rn ed m e. T ru e fr ien d s h a v e th a t p r iv ile g e , y o u k n o w .”

T h e n th e gu a rd s sh ou ted “ A l l a b o a r d ! ” T o m g a v e H e le n ’s h an d a p a r t in g sh ak e an d s w u n g h im s e lf to th e p la t­fo rm , and o f f g lid e d th e tra in .

T h e firs t n ig h t sh e w a s at h om e H e len to ld h e r m o th e r th e w h o le s to ry o f h e r sad m is ta k e and its con sequ en ces .

“ A n d is i t w ro n g to w a n t p eo p le to l ik e o n e? ” sh e asked , an x io u s ly , in con c lu s ion , “ and to t r y to w in th e ir l ik in g ? B ecause I h a v e th a t fe e l in g a ll th e t im e , m am m a, e v e n w ith lit t le ch ild re n .”

“ N o , m y d a r lin g ,” sa id M rs . K e ith , t e n d e r ly , “ n o fe e l in g th a t G o d has p u t in to us can be w ro n g ; w r o n g o n ly com es w h en w e ill-u se o r abu se w h a t sh ou ld o n ly b e p u t to a g o o d pu rp ose . In fa c t, I th in k y o u r k in d ly in te re s t in y o u r fe l- lo w -c rea tu res and y o u r a b ilit y to m a k e th e m l ik e y o u a re qu a lit ie s to b e cu lt iv a te d an d to b e th a n k fu l fo r . Y o u k n o w , dear, I b e lie v e th a t e v e r y h u m an b e in g h as a ' g i f t , ’ a ta len t, — som e o f u s m a y h a v e m o re th a n o n e ,— a n d th a t w e a re a ll resp on s ib le fo r th e g o o d o r b ad m a n a gem en t o f w h a t has been en tru s ted to us. N o w , d a u g h te r , I th in k th a t y o u r p leasan t m an n ers and y o u r a b il it y to w in lik in g , p e rh a p s lo v e , w h e re v e r y o u g o , a re y o u r ' g i f t s , ’ an d sp le n d id ones, too . I f n o b ly an d u n s e lfish ly u sed , to h e lp a n d en co u ra ge y o u r fe llo w -c re a tu re s to b e b e tte r , s tro n g e r , p u re r m en and w om en , y o u w i l l b e o f th e g re a te s t v a lu e an d b e n e fit to a l l w h o k n o w y o u ; b u t i f y o u p u t y o u r g o o d g i f t s to an e v i l use, to fu r th e r w o r ld lin e s s o r v a n ity o r lo v e o f p o w e r , i t is p e r v e r t in g a g o o d th in g , and th en w i l l y o u b ecom e a h in ­dran ce in stead o f a h e lp , and h a v e v e r y m u ch to a n s w e r fo r som e day. W h ic h sh a ll i t be, N e l l y ? ”

“ O h, m am m a, fo r good , s u re ly ,” c r ie d H e len , e a rn e s t ly . T h e n w ith th e c o lo r d eep en in g in h e r s w e e t y o u n g fa c e sh e added , h u m b ly ,

“ B u t I sh a ll h a v e to b e on g u a rd a ll th e t im e , o r I m a y fa l l in to m is c h ie f a ga in . I t is so ea sy to m is ta k e o n e ’s o w n m o t iv e s .” B a r b a r a Y e c h t o n .

H o m e A r t a n d

Venetian Bent Iron W ork .

I F an ybody sh ou ld te ll y o u th a t fr o m a fe w b its o f w i r e a n d a sh eet o r tw o o f s to v ep ip e iro n cu t in to

n a rrow strips, you cou ld , w ith th e a id o f a fe w s im p le too ls , m ake a tab le lam p, a screen , a m atch -box , o r an y n um ber o f o th er u se fu l th in gs , in a ll p ro b a b ility y o u w ou ld th in k h e w e re jo k in g ; b u t a g la n ce a t th e illu s tra tion s w ith th is a rtic le w ill d isp e l an y doubts.

E v e ry one o f th ese p re tty and u se fu l o b jec ts can be m ade o f w ire and n arrow strip s o f th in iro n fash ion ed in to sh ape and des ign w ith th e fin gers and a p a ir o f p in cers to ben d th e v e r y sm all cu rves ; n or a re th ese a ll th e o b jec ts th a t can be m ade from such s im p le m ateria ls . T h e y are o n ly a v e r y fe w su gges tion s o f m any u se fu l and a ttra c t iv e orn am en ts th a t can be m ade to decorate th e h o m e ; and w e re it n ot fo r th e lim ited space, des ign s cou ld be g iv e n fo r p ic tu re fram es, easels, p h o to g rap h stands, w a tch cases, g lo v e and n eck tie boxes, c o lla r and c u ff h o lders, ch an de liers , u m bre lla stands,

H o m e C o m f o r t .w h isk -b ro o m h o ld e rs , in fa c t, an a lm ost u n lim ited n u m b e r o f u s e fu l and p le a s in g ob jects .

T h is class o f w o rk is g e n e ra lly k n o w n as “ V e n e t ia n B e n t Ir o n W o r k , ” and o r ig in a ted in I ta ly , p r in c ip a lly a t V e n ic e , w h e re fo r y ea rs p r e t ty and u se fu l o b je c ts h a v e b een m ad e b y th e n a tiv e w om en an d g ir ls . I t is o n ly w ith in a c o m p a r­a t iv e ly sh ort t im e th a t it h as b ecom e so p o p u la r in th is cou n try , and n o w m a n y l i t t le a r t ic le s o f d e c o ra t iv e fu r n i­tu re m a y b e ob ta in ed , p a r t ic u la r ly in th e la m p -sh o p s , as it is v e r y u se fu l and d es irab le in con n ection w ith a l l k in d s o f lam ps.

I t m ay p erh aps seem a d ifficu lt m a tte r to m a k e a screen lik e N o . 1, a ca n d les tick l ik e N o . 7, o r a ta b le la m p l ik e N o . 14, b u t it is not. P ra c t ic a lly it is v e r y s im p le w o r k ; and a fte r yo u once a cq u ire th e k n a ck o f b en d in g scro lls , to m a k e an y o b jec t y o u w ish w i l l re q u ire b u t t im e and p e rs e v e ra n c e to accom p lish y o u r desire.

T h e to o ls n ecessa ry to w o rk w ith a re on e fla t an d on e rou nd-nosed p a ir o f p lie rs o r p in cers o f m ed iu m s ize , a

DEMOREST’S FA M ILY MAGAZINE. 421

t h re e -co rn ered file f iv e o r s ix inches lon g , a pa ir o f s tou t scissors o r l ig h t m eta l shears, and a sm a ll ta b le v ise . T h e last is n ot a p o s it iv e neces­s ity , b u t is v e r y u se fu l to h o ld b its o f w ire o r bands o f iro n w h ile b en d in g th em in to desired shapes.

T h e m a ter ia ls needed a re severa l sheets o f s to v ep ip e iron o f th e best qu a l­ity , w h ich can be purchased from a tin sm ith fo r a fe w cents each ; a fe w yards o f seve ra l d iffe ren t s izes o f s o ft iron w ire , th e sm all­est abou t th e s ize o f lin en thread, and th e la rg es t abou t th e size

used fo r te leg ra p h c o n n e c t i o n s , or

R O U N D - N O S E D

P L I E R S .

F L A T - N O S E D

P L I E R S .

n ea r ly one- e ig h th o f an inch in d i­am eter. T h e l a r g e s i z e w ill s e rv e fo r t h e fra m e ­w o rk to w h ic h th e scro lls o f sh ee t-iron a re a tta ch ed w ith l ig h t w ir e o r l i t t le bands o f th e sam e m a te -

ria l, as th e case m a y be.Som e b la ck p a in t w i l l a lso be n ecessary, w ith w h ic h to coa t th e iron and g iv e i t a g o o d fin ish , as o th e r ­w ise i t w o u ld b ecom e a d ir ty b ro w n co lo r a fte r a sh o rt tim e , an d w o u ld h ave a ten d en cy to ru st.

T o m ake a screen l ik e N o . 1, cu t one o f th e th in sh eets o f iro n in to n arrow s tr ip s ab ou t o n e -e igh th o r th ree-s ix teen th s o f an in ch w id e ; th en on a p iece o f sm oo th b ro w n p a p e r d raw a s ix -in ch squ are, and in s id e o f th is a sm a lle r squ a re o f fo u r in ches, thus le a v in g an equ a l space o f one tw een th e o u te r and in n e r squ a res . inches in d ia m e te r in s id e th e sm a lle r squ are, and in th e cen ter o f th is a s t i l l sm a lle r c irc le m ea su r in g one and one- h a lf in ch es in d iam ete r. H a v in g n o w d ra w n th e r ib or fra m ew ork lin es , f i l l in th e scro lls and fin ish w ith th e top scrolls. T h is d ra w in g w i l l b e a fu ll- s iz e w ork in g -p la n , and o ve r it th e n a r ro w strip s o f iro n can b e b en t in th e fo rm s indicated b y th e lin es .

Be c a re fu l w h en b en d in g th e scro lls to g e t th em even and n icely fo rm ed , as o th e rw is e th e fin ish ed p iece o f w o rk w il l not lo o k w e ll. I t w i l l b e n ecessa ry to use th e round-nosed pincers to b en d th e se scro lls , and a fte r a l it t le p rac tice it w i l l be an ea sy m a tte r to b en d th em accu ra te ly .

T o fo rm a s c ro ll l ik e A , b en d a s tr ip o f th e iro n w ith th e fingers in th e fo rm o f a U, o r to lo o k lik e 2 A ; th en w ith the round-nosed p in ce rs b e g in an d cu r l on e en d in as sh ow n in 3A . C on tin u e c u r lin g th e s tr ip in u n t il on e side is p e r fe c t ly form ed lik e 4 A , and tre a t th e o th e r en d in th e sam e m anner, u n til th e fin ish ed s c ro ll is m ade to lo o k lik e A .

T h e scro lls and ban ds o f iro n sh ou ld b e fa s ten ed to each o th er w ith sh o rt p iec es o f th e sam e m a te r ia l; b u t i f you find it cracks o r b rea k s in b en d in g , it w i l l b e necessary to use s o ft sh ee t b rass o r c o p p e r o f th e sam e th ickness and about th e sam e w id th as th a t u sed fo r th e scro lls and o th er parts. T h e b rass o r co p p e r w i l l n o t b reak , bu t w il l bend easily , and w h e n p a in ted b la ck it w i l l lo o k th e sam e as iron .

1. S C R E E N F O R L A M P .

inch a ll around be- D ra w a circle four

T h e b in d in g is done b y b rin g in g tw o flat surfaces together and securing them firm ly w ith a lit t le m etal band as shown in B and 2B. W ith the fiat-nosed pincers squeeze the little band t ig h t ly o ve r the united scrolls w h ere it binds them , to m ake a t igh t union.

W h e n w o rk in g out a design in iron and tw o surfaces touch , it is best to unite them w ith a band, as it adds both to the strength and appearance; bu t i f the scrolls should be v e r y sm all and th ey touch o th er equ a lly sm all scrolls at m an y points, you m ust use d iscretion and not overcrow d them w ith too m any bands.

T h e fram ew ork o f an ob ject is a lw ays the first th in g to m ake w hen ca rry in g out a design, and to it a ll the ornam ental scro lls are to be attached. F o r th e screen N o . 1 the first th in g to m ake is th e six-inch square, then the four-inch one,

n ex t the c irc le fo u r inches in diam eter, and last, the sm all inner c irc le one and a h a lf inches in diameter.

A ft e r h a v in g m ade these o f the th in n arrow strips o f iron, fo rm th e scrolls (see A ) that fit in the corners be- tw een th e ou ter and inner squares, and then bend and

fit th e snake pattern (see C ) that fills the rem aining space betw een th e squares. W h en eve r any r iv e tin g is re­qu ired to jo in the ends o f sheet iron, a lw ays use copper tacks as th ey w ill bend easily and flatten read ily under th e tap o f a sm all ham mer. H o les th rou gh w hich to

pass th e tacks m ust first be punched th rou gh the sheet ironw ith a sharp-poin ted a w l and a m allet.

N e x t fasten the la rg e circ le inside the sm aller square, and m ake th e f o u r r i n g s that fill in th e c o rn e rs ; then m ake e igh t scrolls and bind these toge th er inside the la rge circle, and enclose th e sm all c irc le in th e center. T h e top part and scrolls are n ext to be m ade ; then m ake the bind­in g around th e sides and bottom o f the screen, and fasten it to the outside fram e o f the screen w ith fin e iron w ire . T h is b in d in g is made o f s o ft iron w ire o f m edium size, that is, a little la rg e r than an ord in ary pin. T ak e a round lead p en cil and w rap th e w ire around it, and when you reach th e end o f the pencil shove it back th rou gh th e co il form ed, and continue w ind ing

2A. 4A .

M E T H O D O F M A K I N G S C R O L L .

it round and round until you have made a solid coil seven or eight inches long. Remove the pencil, and by taking hold o f both ends pu ll the spiral coil out about twenty

T A B L E V IS E .

422 DE MORE ST 'S FAM ILY M A G A ZIN E .

2B.

M E T H O D OF B IN D IN G .

in ch es lo n g and th en fa s ten i t to t h e s c r e e n as d e ­scribed . T h is m ak es a p r e t ty an d s e rv ic ea b le b o rd e r a rou n d such a p iece o f w o rk , g iv in g a fin ish ed appearan ce .

H a v in g co m p le ted th e iro n p a rt o f th e screen i t m u st th en b e p a in ted b la ck . T h e b es t b la ck c o a tin g fo r iro n is k n o w n as B e r lin b la c k ; b u t as i t can n o t b e b o u g h t a t every p a in t o r h a rd w a re s to re , a

C.S N A K E P A T T E R N .

go o d su b s titu te t h a t can b e m ade in t h e fo l lo w in g m a n ­n e r w i l l a n sw e r v e r y w e ll. A t a p a in t o r h a rd ­w a re s to re p u rch ase a sm a ll can o f iv o r y b la ck g ro u n d in o i l ; i t w i l l b e th ic k , and m u st b e th in n ed to th e p ro p e r con s is ten cy w ith e q u a l p a rts o f Japan d ry e r an d sp ir its o f tu rp e n ­tin e m ix ed to g e th e r . D o n o t u se o il, v a r ­n ish , n o r a n y o th e r m ed iu m to th in th e pa in t w ith , as i t w i l l n e ith e r w o r k w e ll n o r d r y so q u ic k ly . T h e p a in t w h e n th in n ed sh ou ld f lo w n ic e ly an d b e a b o u t th e con s is ten cy o f r ich m ilk , and sh o u ld b e a p p lie d to th e iro n w ith a s o ft b ru sh in th in coats . U s u a lly tw o coa ts w i l l b e su ffic ien t fo r an a r t ic le th a t is to rem a in in th e h ou se ; b u t i f i t is f o r an o u t- d o o r la m p o r a n y th in g th a t w i l l b e e x p o sed to th e w ea th e r i t m u st fir s t b e p a in ted w ith a coa t o f red lead , an d o v e r th is , w h en d ry , th re e o r fo u r su ccess ive th in coa ts o f th e b la ck sh ou ld b e a p p lied .

T h is screen sh o u ld b e b a ck e d w ith c o lo red s ilk th a t w i l l h a rm o n ize w ith th e b la c k iro n ; th e s ilk is , in r e a lity , th e screen p ro p e r , th e iro n g r i l le -w o r k b e in g b u t th e fra m e on w h ic h to s tre tch it . T h e s ilk w h e n h em m ed a rou n d th e ed g e sh ou ld b e ju s t s ix in ch es squ a re , and is to b e fa s ten ed to th e ir o n -w o rk w ith b la ck s ew in g -s ilk . W h e n fin ­ish ed , th e screen m a y b e su spen d ed fr o m th e e d g e o f a g a s -g lo b e w ith a sm a ll w ir e h o o k , o r i t m a y b e h u n g a ga in s t a la m p -sh a d e and w i l l p r o v e a v e r y co n v en ie n t an d u s e fu l o b ­je c t to sh ie ld o n e ’s e y e s fr o m th e d ire c t ra y s o f a b r ig h t l ig h t w h e n rea d in g .

N o . 2 is a n o th e r su gg e s tio n fo r a p r e t ty screen o f iro n an d s ilk . T h e u p r ig h t p ie c e o f th e s tan d ard is to b e m ad e fr o m a p ie c e o f w o o d , and sh ou ld b e th r e e s ix te en th s o r on e q u a r­te r o f an in ch sq u a re ; o r a p ie c e o f s to u t ro u n d iro n w ir e o f ab ou t th e sam e th ick n ess m a y b e used. T h e s tan d ard sh ou ld b e e ig h te e n in ch es h ig h , an d n ea r th e to p tw o s c ro lls a re to b e m a d e fa s t fr o m w h ic h to su sp en d th e screen . T h e fo u r b o tto m scro lls , o r fe e t , m a d e fr o m th e n a rro w s tr ip s o f iro n , can b e e a s ily b en t in to th e sh ape in d ica ted in th e d ra w in g , a n d sh o u ld m easu re a b o u t s ix in ch es h ig h , an d tw o o f th em w h e n fa s ten ed to th e u p r ig h t d ir e c t ly o p p o s ite each o th e r , sh o u ld m ea su re a b o u t f iv e and a h a l f in ch es across a t th e w id e s t p o in t. A g o o d s iz e fo r th e screen is s ix in ch es squ are , o r s ix in ch es w id e an d e ig h t in ch es h ig h . I t sh ou ld b e b a ck ed w ith s ilk , as d esc r ib ed fo r N o . 1 . T h e b o rd e r a rou n d th e o u ts id e o f th e o u te r fra m e can b e m ade o f a n a r­r o w iro n s tr ip b en t in to fo rm w ith th e rou n d -n osed p in cers to lo o k l ik e C.

2. S T A N D I N G L A M P - SC R E E N .

N o . 3 is an id ea fo r a h a n g in g m a tc h -b o x th a t w h e n fin ­ish ed an d p a in te d b la c k w i l l m a k e an a t t r a c t iv e b it o f u s e fu l o rn am en t h u n g a ga in s t a l ig h t w a ll. F iv e o r s ix in ch es w i l l b e h ig h en o u g h fo r it , a n d th e b o x sh o u ld b e m a d e s u ffic ie n t ly la rg e to a cco m m od a te a q u a n t ity o f m a tch es . T o p re v e n t th e m a tch es fa l l in g o u t a t e ith e r en d , l in e th e b o x w ith som e m a te r ia l su ch as b la c k c r in o lin e o r a s t i f f s i lk o f a re d o r g r e e n ­ish co lo r . 3D is a s id e v ie w o f th e m a tc h -b o x , s h o w in g h o w to fin ish th e d e s ign a t th e s id e ; i t a ls o g iv e s an id e a h o w fa r o u t th e b o x sh o u ld p r o je c t fr o m th e w a ll . T h e fr a m e w o rk o f th e b o x sh o u ld b e o f s to u t w ir e ; b u t th e b a c k p a r t th a t res ts a g a in s t th e w a ll an d to w h ic h th e b o x is fa s te n e d is m ade o f n a r ro w s tr ip s o f iro n .

N o . 4 illu s tra te s h o w an o rd in a ry d r in k in g -g la s s can b e d eco ra ted w ith a fr a m e w o rk fo rm e d o f ir o n s c ro lls an d sus­p en d ed b y ch a in s , m a d e o f th e sam e m a te r ia l, fr o m a ga s fix tu re , an d s e r v e as a re c ep ta c le f o r b u rn t m a tch es . A

c o lla r o f iro n w ir e h a v in g th r e e o r fo u r e y e le ts tw is te d in i t sh o u ld b e m ad e to f it a ro u n d th e u p p e r p a r t o f th e g la ss , an d a n o th e r to f i t a ro u n d th e lo w e r ; b e tw e e n

th e s e tw o c o lla rs th e s c ro lls a re to b e fit ted an d fa s ten ed . A f r i l l m a d e o f ir o n s tr ip s can b e fa s te n e d a ll a ro u n d th e b o tto m , an d th e th r e e o r fo u r s u sp e n d in g ch a in s a re fo rm ed o f lin k s m a d e o f th e iro n s tr ip s as sh ow n in E . T h e s e ch a in s a re to b e ca u gh t to ­g e th e r a t th e to p b y a r in g m a d e o f s to u t ir o n w ir e , to th e to p o f w h ic h a h o o k can b e fa s ten ed . T h e ir o n sh o u ld b e p a in te d w ith tw o o r th r e e co a ts o f b la ck .

N o . 5 is a s u g g e s t io n fo r s o m e th in g s im ila r to N o . 4, b u t in s tea d o f b e in g u sed fo r b u rn t m a tch es i t m a y b e u t il iz e d to h o ld a sm a ll g r o w in g p la n t. T h e g la s s p a r t is an e le c tr ic -

l ig h t g lo b e o f o p a l o r p in k tw is te d g la ss , th a t can b e b o u g h t a t a n y g a s o r e le c tr ic f ix tu r e s to re . T h e u p r ig h t

ex ten s io n a rm o f th e b ra c k e t a re to b e m ade o f la r g e iro n w ir e a n d w e l l b raced w ith s c ro lls w o rk e d in

d e s ig n as s h o w n in th e illu s tra t io n . T h is b ra ck e t m a y b e fa s te n e d a ga in s t a w in d o w ca s in g w h e re th e p la n t w i l l g e t th e s u n lig h t. A l l th e iro n sh ou ld b e p a in te d b la ck ; an d th e p a rts a ro u n d th e g la ss g lo b e

sh o u ld r e c e iv e f ir s t a co a t o f re d le a d , as o th e rw is e th e m o is tu re m ig h t cau se th e s c ro lls to ru st.

N o . 6 is fo r a ca n d les tick an d sh ade. T h e can d les tick fr a m e w o rk is m ade o f s tr ip s o f iro n on e q u a r te r o f an in ch w id e ; th e re a re fo u r s c ro ll s id es and fe e t m ade fa s t to a

c e n t e r p i e c e o f w o o d on e q u a rte r o f an in ch squ are, to t h e t o p o f w h ic h th e can d le sock et is tacked .T h e

3. H A N G IN G M A T C H -B O X .

s o c k e t ism ad e f r o m s h e e t i r o n l ik e th e p a tte rn s h o w n in F , bending u p to socket,

3 D . S ID E V I E W

O F M A T C H ­

B O X .

a n d a f t e r th e ears fo rm th e each ea r

D E M O R E S T ' S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .423

A n o th er c a n d l e s t i c k , som ew h a t m ore e labora te , is illu stra ted in N o . 7. T o m ake it g e t a com m on t in cand lestick and t a k e th e bottom o ff, le a v in g th e s tick part, o r socket, w h ic h is to fo rm th e u p p er pa rt o f th e candlestick . B e n d f o u r scro ll sides and b in d th em a ll to g e th e r at tw o o r th ree d ifferen t po in ts to th e sock ­et, w ith m eta l bands. T h e inside edges o f th e la rg e bottom scrolls are a lso to be fastened tog e th e r b y a m eta l b a n d ; a sh ort p iece o f w ood one qu arter o f an inch square serves as a cen ­terp iece aga inst w h ich to b ind them . A good h e igh t

e v e r y o th e r l in K b e in g a c ir c le , a n d su sp en d ed f r o m h o o k s a t th e en d s o f th e a rm s, m a d e o f s to u t ir o n w ir e , th a t p r o je c t in fo u r d if fe r e n t d ir e c t io n s f r o m th e to p o f th e la n te rn . T h is la n te rn m a y b e a r ra n g e d to r e c e iv e a sm a ll o i l la m p o r a ca n d le , an d sh o u ld b e a b o u t t w e lv e o r fo u r te e n in ch e s h ig h b y e ig h t o r n in e in ch e s in d ia m e te r .

N o . 10 is a n o th e r d e s ig n f o r a la n te rn th a t m a y b e su sp en d ed b y a ch a in f r o m th e c e i l in g o r h u n g on a b ra c k e t . I t is v e r y s im p le t o co n s tru c t, b e in g m a d e o f th in sh ee t iro n a n d b a n d s o f th e sa m e m a te ­r ia l. A c y l in d e r o f g la s s , e ith e r c le a r o r c o lo re d , m a y b e u sed to g o o d a d v a n ta g e in c a r r y in g o u t th is d e ­

s ign , a n d sh o u ld f i t ju s t in s id e th e fr a m e w o r k o f ban ds. I t is so s im p le th a t an e x p la n a t io n is h a r d ly n ecessa ry , as th e i l lu s t ra t io n sh o w s v e r y c le a r ly h o w to c o n s tru c t it . A g o o d s iz e f o r th is la n te rn to a cco m m o d a te an o i l la m p is

fo r t h is cand le -6. C A N D L E S T IC K .

stick is fr o m ten

to tw e lv e inches. I f ten inches h igh , it shou ld m easure across at th e w id es t part about seven inches ; i f tw e lv e inches in h e igh t, th e w id th 8. C A N D E L A B R U M .7. C A N D L E S T IC K .

F .P A T T E R N F O R

S O C K E T .

turn can b e cu rved so th a t in th e fin ished socket th e can d le w i l l fit sn u g ly . T h e shade is fo rm ed o f scro lls b u ilt u p from a h oo p o f stout w ire , and decreases in d ia m ­eter to w a rd th e top . T h e s tr ip s the scro lls a re m ade o f sh ou ld not be m ore than one e ig h th o f an in ch w id e , and th e scro lls shou ld be sm all and v e r y n ic e ly made. T h e iron shade w i l l lo o k w e ll lin ed w ith co lo red s ilk , and shou ld be su p p o rted a b o ve and fasten ed to th e can d le b y m ean s

sh ou ld b e ab o u t e ig h t an d a h a l f in ch es . A c a n o p y sh ad e can b e m ade fo r i t o f th e sam e m a te r ia l d e s c r ib e d f o r N o . 6, o r i t m a y b e u sed w ith o u t. P in k , red , o r l ig h t g r e e n can d les h a rm o n ize w e l l w i t h th e b la c k iro n , an d y e l lo w is v e r y e f fe c t iv e .

N o . 8 is a su g g e s t io n fo r a fo u r -a rm e d ca n d le s ta n d a rd , o r ca n d e lab ru m , h o ld in g f iv e can d les . T h e r e a re b u t tw o a rm s s h o w n in th e d ra w in g , b u t th e o th e r tw o a re to b e th e sam e. T h e so ck e t h o ld in g th e c e n te r ca n d le is m a d e

fa s t to th e to p o f th e s q u a re p ie c e o f w o o d th a t acts as a c e n te rp ie c e an d to w h ic h th e s id e s c ro lls fo r m in g th e a rm s a n d le g s a re fa s te n e d . T h is s ta n d a rd sh o u ld b e m a d e a b o u t ten o r t w e lv e in ch es h ig h , an d c o n s tru c ted in th e sa m e m a n - n e r as d e s c r ib e d f o r N o . 6.

A s u g g e s t io n f o r an o d d h a n g in g la n te rn is g iv e n in N o . 9, th e to p a n d b o t to m b e in g o f th in sh ee t ir o n h e ld a p a rt b y fo u r u p r ig h t b a n d s o f th e sam e m a te r ia l. B e tw e e n th e s e u p r ig h ts a g r i l le - w o r k is to b e fo rm e d o f n a r r o w s tr ip s o f m e ta l b e n t in to c ir c le s o f v a r io u s s iz e s a n d s e c u re ly fa s te n e d to o n e a n o th e r b y m ea n s o f s m a ll m e ta l ban ds. T h e l in k s o f th e fo u r h a n g ­in g ch a in s a re m a d e o f n a r r o w ir o n s tr ip s ,

o f a can opy su p p o rter , w h ic h can b e b ou gh t at a la m p -s to re fo r a f e w cen ts. It w i l l b e o f brass, b u t w i l l lo o k lik e iro n w h en b lacked . A s ilk fr in g e a rou n d th e lo w e r ed ge o f th e shade w i l l add to its a p ­

pearance.

424 DEMOREST'S F A M ILY M AGAZINE.

fifteen inches in diameter.

N o . 11 is lantern, b u t 9. Make four

h igh to top o f roo f, and n ine inches

s till another design fo r a h an g in g considerab ly m ore e labora te than N o . fram es, each e igh t in ches w id e and

10. L A N T E R N .

9. L A N T E R N .

e leven inches h igh , o f stout iron w ire , and fill them w ith th e in ­dicated d e s i g n w o r k e d ou t in n arrow iron strips ; w hen th ey are a ll com pleted fasten them togeth er, fo rm in g a square. T h en m ake a ro o f o f th in sheet iron , cu ttin g ou t from each side s ix tr ian gu la r p ieces o f m eta l to a llo w drau ght fo r th e lam p ; fa sten th is ro o f to th e g r il le sides, and to th e top o f it secure a suspend ing r in g m ade o f stout iron w ire . T h e bo ttom to th e lan tern shou ld b e a d isk o f iron w ith a round h o le in th e cen ter su ffic ien tly la rge to adm it the lam p th a t is to be p laced w ith in . A circu lar d isk a tr ifle la rg e r in d iam eter than th e h o le should be secured to th e bottom o f th e lam p and a rran ged so it m ay be h eld to th e bo ttom o f th e lan tern b y m eans 6 i a k eeper r iv e ted to each side o f th e rou nd d isk and correspond ing to tw o m ade fa s t to th e lan tern bottom .

N o . 12 is fo r a sm all candle lan tern and b racket. T h e to ta l len gth o f th e b racket shou ld be e igh teen inches, and it shou ld p ro jec t fro m the w a ll a d istance o f e ig h t inches. A good size fo r th e lan tern is ten inches h igh , n ot in c lu d ­in g th e suspending rin g , w h ich is to be m ade fa s t to th e top and fit o v e r th e h ook a t th e p ro je c tin g en d o f th e b ra c k e t ; at th e w id est pa rt i t shou ld m easure seven and one h a lf inches square, not in c lu d in g th e scrolls , and th ree and one h a lf inches square at th e bottom . T h e u p r ig h t and

T h e b o tto m o f th e la n tern can b e a rra n ge d so a can d le m ay be passed in to it and h e ld in p lace.

N o . 13 is fo r a h a n d k e rch ie f b o x to b e m ad e o f s tou t iron w ire , n a rro w strip s o f iron , s ilk , w o o d , an d c la w fe e t. N o . 13G illu s tra tes th e a rran gem en t o f s c ro lls fo r th e co ve r , as it is n o t poss ib le to sh ow th e to p c le a r ly in N o . 13. A g o o d s ize fo r th is b o x is ten in ch es squ a re an d fo u r in ch es h igh n ot in c lu d in g th e c la w fe e t, w h ic h w i l l ra ise i t u p an o th er inch o r so. F o u r fra m es sh ou ld f ir s t b e m a d e o f s tou t iron

w ire , each ten in ch es lo n g an d fo u r h ig h , an d th en filled in w ith g r ille s , as sh ow n in th e illu s tra t io n . W h e n th e

sid es a re fin ish ed , fa s ten th em to g e th e r w i t h w ire so th e y w i l l fo rm a square, an d m a k e a b o tto m o f th in w o o d n o t m o r e t h a n a q u a r te r o f an in ch in th ic k ­ness. T h is b o tto m can b e fa s ten ed to th e lo w e r r ib o f ea ch p a n e l w i t h w ir e passed th ro u g h sm a ll h o les m a d e a ll a r o u n d in th e w o o d , c lo se to th e ed ge , w ith an a w l. U n d e r each c o rn e r o f th e b o x a c la w fo o t is to b e s c rew ed fa s t to th e w o o d b o tto m . S e v ­e ra l d iffe r e n t s izes o f th ese fe e t can b e b o u g h t a t h a rd ­w a re s to res w h e re th e y s e ll c a b in e t t r im m in g s ; t h e y w i l l b e b r a s s , b u t w i l l lo o k l ik e iro n w h e n th e y

a re b la ck ed .T h e fr a m e w o r k o f ir o n w ir e

fo r th e c o v e r s h o u l d b e ten in ch es sq u a re an d fi l le d in w ith th e s c ro ll-w o rk as sh o w n in th e d es ign 13G ; th e o u ts id e o f th e

fr a m e m a y b e fin ish ed w ith a f r i l l o f iro n m ad e fr o m n a r r o w s tr ip s , as sh o w n in C. T h e c o v e r m a y b e fa s ten ed to th e b o x w ith tw o o r t h r e e ban ds o f m e ta l, o r w ith w i r e p a s s e d a ro u n d th e r ib s on ce o r tw ic e and th e en ds tw is te d t o g e t h e r ;

12. l a n t e r n a n d b r a c k e t . th e se w i l l s e r v e as

11. L A N T E R N .

13. H A N D K E R C H I E F -B O X .

p ro jec tin g rib o f th e bracket, as w e ll as th e ou tside fram e o f th e lantern , shou ld be o f stou t iron w ire , and a fte r th ey are m ade it w ill be an easy m atter to fil l in th e scro ll des ign b y fo llo w in g the d raw in g . T h e appearance o f th is lit t le lan tern can be im p roved b y p lac in g a pane o f co lo red g lass in each side inside o f th e g r ille -w o rk ; am ber, l ig h t red, o r p in k are p leas in g shades in com bination w ith b lack iron .

h inges, and a lso to h o ld th e c o v e r in p la ce on th e box . T o fin ish n ic e ly and m ake th e b o x com p le te i t s h o u l d b e lin ed w ith s ilk o f s o m e p re tty c o l o r , such as o r a n g e , s a g e g r e e n , p e a r l g ra y , o r an y o f th e r e d s t h a t w i l l h arm on ize w ith b lack . T h e 13G . C O V E R F O R H A N D K E R C H I E F - B O X .

DEMORE ST'S FAM ILY M AGAZINE . 4 25

lin ing m ay be sh irred and cau gh t to th e iro n fra m e ­work w ith b lack sew in g-s ilk , and a pad o f pasteboard covered w ith s ilk can be g lu ed to th e bo ttom , th u s m aking a ll th e in te r io r o f th e b o x o f s ilk .

A handsom e and su bstan tia lly m ade table-lamp is illu s tra ted in N o . 1 4 ; although it w il l requ ire som e tim e and perseverance to m ake it, th e resu lt w ill repay th e trou b le . I t w i l l be necessary firs t to pu rchase a good - sized m eta l lam p fo u n t and bu rn er, w ith a tr ip od to s u p p o r t a shade tw elve o r fou rteen inches in d iam eter. A central d rau ght b u rn er is p re fe ra b le to th e old style du p lex , and can b e b o u gh t a t a n y large lam p-store. T h e s ize o f th e g r i l le b o x is governed b y th e d iam eter o f th e fo u n t, so if it measures s ix in ches in d iam eter, a go o d size to m ake th e b o x w i l l be seven in ch es square and ten h igh , n o t in c lu d in g th e c la w fe e t ; these w il l ra ise it u p an in ch o r so higher.

The fou r sides a re first to be m ade and fastened togeth er, forming a square.A wood bottom is then to be made fa s t to it, and to th e under side th e c la w f e e t a r e t o b e screwed, one under each corner. T h e

14. T A B L E L A M P .

to p is th e n e x t th in g to m a k e . T h is s h o u ld b e a s q u a re fr a m e w ith a ro u n d o n e in s id e ju s t l a r g e e n o u g h to h o ld th e m e ta l fo u n t a n d p r e v e n t i t f r o m fa l l in g th r o u g h in to th e b o x . T h e s p a c e s in

th e c o rn e rs ca n b e f i l l e d in w i t h g r i l l e - w o r k t o c o r r e s p o n d w i t h th e s id e s in d e s ig n . T h e s h a d e is th e n t o b em a d e o f n a r r o w s t r ip s o f t h e i r o nb e n t in to s c ro lls a n d fa s te n e d t o g e t h e r . A la r g e h o o p is f ir s t fo r m e d o f s t o u t w ir e , a n d f r o m i t t h e g r i l l e - w o r k is b u ilt u p t ie r a f t e r t i e r u n t i l t h e t o p

is re a ch ed , w h e n a n o th e r w i r e h o o p w i l l b e r e q u ir e d , a n d o n t o p o f t h is a r u f f le o f ir o n is a d d ed to fo r m a f in is h in g c r o w n .

A l l th e m e ta l p a r ts , in c lu d in g t h e la m p fo u n t a n d b u rn e r , s h o u ld b e g i v e n t w o o r th r e e co a ts o f t h e b la c k ; a n d t o f in is h t h e la m p n ic e ly th e sh a d e a n d g r i l l e b o x s h o u ld b e l in e d w it h s ilk . F r in g e a ro u n d t h elo w e r e d g e o f th e s h a d e w i l l a d d t o t h ea p p e a ra n c e ; a n d w h e n c o m p le te d th is la m p w i l l fo r m o n e o f t h e m o s t a t t r a c t iv e a n d u s e fu l o d d b its o f fu r n itu r e a b o u t t h e h ou se .

N o . 15 is f o r a M o o r is h h a n g in g la m p o r la n te rn , a n d ca n b e m a d e a lm o s t a n y

s iz e f r o m t w e lv e in c h e s t o t h r e e f e e t h ig h . T h e f r a m e w o r k is o f s to u t

ir o n w ir e , a n d a l l t h e g r i l l e - w o r k is m a d e o f n a r r o w s t r ip s o f ir o n r a n g in g f r o m o n e e ig h t h t o o n e q u a r te r o f a n in c h w id e , a c c o rd ­in g t o th e s iz e o f t h e la n te r n . T h e r e a r e b u t t w o l i n e s o f c h a in s s h o w n in t h e d r a w in g , b u t th e r e s h o u ld b e a l in e t o e v e r y r ib o r a n g le o f t h e f r a m e , a s i t is a s ix -s id e d a f fa ir , c o n ­s e q u e n t ly th e r e s h o u ld b e s ix s e ts o f ch a in s . T h e s ix f la t s id e s o f th e la n te r n s h o u ld h a v e p a n es o f c o lo r e d g la s s , a n d o n e s e c t io n is t o b e a r r a n g e d a s a d o o r th a t ca n b e o p e n e d t o a l ­lo w a la m p to b e p a s s e d w ith in .

T h e d ro p s a t th e b o t to m in th e fo r m o f in v e r t e d l i l i e s a re cu t f r o m s h ee t ir o n a n d b e n t in to p r o p e r s h a p e w it h th e fin g e rs . A p a tte rn f o r th e m w o u ld lo o k l ik e H ; th r e e o f th e m w i l l b e in th is fo rm , b u t o f v a r io u s s iz e s , w h i le th e b o tto m o n e can b e m a d e f r o m a p a t te rn l ik e F . I t w i l l b e m u ch e a s ie r to m a k e th is la n te rn b y f o l l o w in g th e l in e s o f th e d e s ig n th a n t o w o r k fr o m a n y e x p la n a t io n , a s anillu s t r a t io n c o n v e y s a c le a r e r id e a th a n p a g e s o f e x p la n a ­t io n .

A n y p e rso n p o s s e s s in g so m e m e c h a n ic a l a b i l i t y a n d p e r s e ­v e r a n c e s h o u ld b e a b le to m a k e a l l o f th e s e p r e t t y a n d u s e fu l o b je c ts . A s y o u w o r k n e w id e a s w i l l c o n s ta n t ly s u g g e s t th e m s e lv e s , an d in c a r r y in g th e m o u t y o u w i l l s p e n d m a n y p lea sa n t h o u rs .

J . H a r r y A d a m s .

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H a v e y o u s ta r te d y o u r P o r t r a i t A lb u m y e t ? T h e h a n d ­so m e a lb u m th a t w e w i l l s en d y o u f o r f o r t y c en ts , w h ic h in c lu d e s e x p re s s c h a rg e s , is , n o tw ith s ta n d in g it s ch e a p n e s s , a b e a u t ifu l b o o k th a t w h e n f i l le d w i l l c o n ta in a c o l le c t io n o f p o r t r a it s th a t c o u ld n o t b e b o u g h t f o r $ 2 0 0 .

P A T T E R N F O R I N V E R T E D L I L Y .

15. M O O R IS H H A N G I N G L A M P .

426 DEMORE ST'S F A M IL Y M AGA Z IN E .

The World's P r o g r e s s .

C U R R E N T T O P IC S , N O T E S A N D C O M M E N T S O N E V E N T SO F T H E D A Y .— IN T E R E S T IN G S U B JE C TS A N D N O T ­

A B L E T H IN G S W H IC H H A V E O C C U R R E D D U R IN G T H E P A S T M O N T H .— C O N T E M ­

P O R A N E O U S H IS T O R Y FR O M A F A M IL IA R P O IN T O F

V IE W .

The Supreme Court.T h e appoin tm ent o f Senator W h ite by the Presiden t to the

vacant p lace in the Suprem e Court o f the U n ited States, and the prom pt confirm ation o f that appointm ent by the Senate, once m ore com pletes the num ber o f Judges, and the Court can now sit w ith a fu ll bench. V e ry soon a fter the adoption o f the Con­stitu tion o f the U n ited States the Court concluded that the peop le w ou ld be best satisfied w ith th e ir decisions on politica l o r constitu tional questions by having the argum ent heard b e fo re a ll the ju dges and the decision o f each ju d ge separately rendered. I f there was any d ifferen ce o f opinion the decision o f a m a jority o f the ju dges w ou ld becom e that o f the Court and the other decisions w ou ld be m erely d issen ting or ind ividual opinions, o f no lega l fo rce , but va luable as illu stra ting w hat the m a jority o f the ju dges d id n ot agree to. Th is practice o f hearing constitu­tional questions before a fu ll bench on ly has continued, and fo r this reason the s tru gg le between the Presiden t and the Senate has seriously delayed the real business o f the Court. Th e other questions w hich com e before the Court and are heard before any num ber o f the ju dges, though not less than a m a jority o f the w hole num ber, are rather consequences o f the peculiar fo rm o f ou r governm en t than such as in vo lve grea t questions o f constitu­tional righ t. By th is care in hearing the great questions the Court has deserved ly earned the h ighest esteem throughout the c iv ilized w orld .

Ballot Reform.Suffrage is a ttracting attention in a p ractica l w ay in N ew

Y o rk State, and as N ew Y o rk does, so the rest o f the country is lik e ly to do. Th e tria ls o f M cK an e and other vio la tors o f the e lection law s have been com m on news in the papers, bu t the efforts o f the L eg is la tu re and o f the approach ing convention to revise the Constitu tion may not be recogn ized as on ly second in im portance. Just now the e ffo r t to in troduce the Australian ballot-system is lead in g to re liance upon deta ils and records m ore than the honesty o f e lection officers, and now the inev itab le Am erican in ven tor has appeared w ith a v o tin g machine on the princip le o f that one w hich te lls you r age when the handles are m anipulated as directed. T o this m igh t be added that o th er one which takes your picture as you pu ll the knobs. Som eth ing o f this k ind was suggested in derision o f a ll re form , tw en ty years ago, in the Constitu tional Convention o f another State. Th e interest in honest elections is not lik e ly to pass aw ay like fire fo r w ant o f fu e l, fo r agitation has already begun to change one o f the fundam ental th ings about our governm en t by g iv in g the peop le a d irect vo te on many subjects o f leg islation . Thus, i f the peop le vo ted fo r free trade, Congress cou ld n ot pass a ta riff law ; o r i f the vo te proh ib ited liqu or se llin g in any tow n, the Leg is la tu re cou ld not pass a general license law . Such a change w ould be in the w ay o f true local self-governm ent, bu t w ou ld be useless as lon g as ba llo t-box stu ffing continues. One extrem e o f fre e ba llo tin g is w here a vo ter steps up to the p o ll and declares his choice aloud. Th a t has gone ou t o f fashion, on account o f the fraud and v io len ce a ttend in g elections. Th e o th er extrem e is a ba llo t so secret that the vo ter cannot recog­nize his ow n ba llo t a fte r casting it, w ith the opportun ity fo r som eone to change it w ithou t fea r o f d iscovery. I t is n ot enough to steer a m idd le course, fo r it has not becom e com m on to disfranchise a vo ter who cannot read ; and p rovid in g fo r the assistance o f the illite ra te vo ter opens the door fo r dow nrigh t purchase and sale o f his vote at the very instant he is p reparing his ballot.

Public Pawnshops.A s Am ericans recogn ize the du ty o f every person to have

some care fo r his neighbor, it is n o t rem arkable that pu b lic opinion is m ovin g rap id ly tow ards approval o f public pawnshops, instead o f regu la ting the rates charged by those who m ake a profit by len d in g to the un fortunate. A few years ago there w ou ld have been grea t opposition to any such in terposition by the State, on princip le ; but now the econom y o f such a m ethod o f assisting the unfortunate appears to be upperm ost in the pub­lic m ind, a lon g w ith the usual robust Am ericanism that the th in g can be abolished i f it is not successful. M eanw hile, ph ilan ­throp ic gentlem en in N ew Y ork are seek ing fo r the necessary au th ority to carry on the paw nbrok ing business at the sm allest possible rate o f profit, and upon their success or fa ilu re w ill de­pend w hether the public m oneys are to be loaned in this way.

Th ere seem s to be no dou bt that there must be am ple capital. T h e ord inary paw nbroker excuses his rates by the want o f suffi­c ien t capita l, so that he must bo rrow h im se lf t o be able to lend. I n fa ct, when m oney is hardest to obtain , e ith er from the sale o f investm ents o r b orrow in g , is the ve ry tim e w hen the pawnbroker is the busiest.Schoo lh ouse F lags .

D uring a recen t trip to th is cou n try th e E arl o f M eath was so im pressed w ith the d isp lay o f the Stars and Stripes on many o f our schoolhouses that he has donated fifty pounds to the London School Board fo r th e purchase o f flags fo r th e ir schoolhouses. Th e E arl was an observ ing m an, n ot a m ere enthusiast, fo r he noticed , w h ile in this country , tha t som e school-boards w ished to incu lcate a d iv id ed patriotism by fly in g variou s flags a long with the Stars and Stripes ; so the con d ition o f the E a r l’ s g i f t was that no flag save the U n ion Jack shou ld be used. T h e School Board so heartily approved the p a trio tic purpose as to appropriate additional m oney fo r flags, a ll a g ree in g that pa trio tic sentiments w ere o f real va lue to the national defense. O f course those who read the h istory o f Queen E liza b e th ’ s reign cannot avo id adm it­t in g the va lue o f s en tim en t; but n ot m any are aware that the grea t B ism arck, on ly a few years ago , dec lared the strength o f A m erica was, not in its m arvelous w ea lth , bu t in the v iv id enthu­siasm o f the peop le fo r th e ir country. I t is a lso a curious p iece o f European h istory, th a t the fo rced union betw een N orw ay and Sweden, in 1815, was m ade possib le, in part, by N o rw a y ’ s rece iv ­in g a national flag. D u rin g the many p reced in g cen turies the N orsk flag was m erely the Danish red w ith a w h ite c ro ss ; and although the Swedish y e llo w was m in g led w ith the b lue o f the new flag, the peop le had a flag, a sym bol o f b roth erh ood w ith o th er nations. N o w they th ink the y e l l ow shou ld be struck ou t, even i f by b loodshed ; and som e day a European war m ay fo llo w ove r a co lo r in the N orw eg ian flag.

A Penny-in -the-S lot Gas M eter.Perhaps the one last resu lt o f these hard tim es w ill be the

rem edies fo r waste, en rich in g both in ven to rs and users. Th ere is n oth ing Am erican in d en y in g on ese lf th e use o f c o m fo r ts ; in fact, e lec tric ligh ts and bath-tubs are b e tte r assurances o f public order than thousands o f po licem en. So the pu b lic are o ffe red by progressive gas-com panies a m eter w ith a s lo t arrangem ent, by which a qu arter’ s w orth o f gas m ay be purchased r ig h t in o n e ’ s own kitchen , and another and another, as lo n g as th ere are quarters to drop in the slot. Th is m eter was d es ign ed to encour­age fla t-dw ellers , especia lly , in the use o f gas fo r cook in g , in place o f coal. W h eth er th is a ttach m en t fo r gas m eters w ill p rove popu lar o r not, tim e a lon e can p rove ; bu t it seem s a step in advance.R eg is te r in g P e t A n im als.

W h ile the d o g ta x is fa m ilia r enough , i t has n o t a va iled to p re ­ven t in any w ay the le v y in g o f b lackm ail b y s tea lin g p e t an im als, and a tax on cats has scarcely been th ou gh t o f as p ro tec tion against m id n igh t concerts. N e w Y o r k C ity is n ow to set an exam ple to a ll the rest o f the cou n try b y re g is te r in g bo th cats and dogs, so th a t any u n tagged b o w -w o w o r pussy sh a ll be im m ediately liab le to arrest and a speedy term in a tion o f l i f e ’ s tro u b les ; w h ile the reg is te red cats and d ogs are to be esco rted hom e lik e lo st ch ild ren . A s th is new law has been secured b y the A m erican S oc ie ty fo r the P reven tion o f C ru e lty to A n im a ls , success in N e w Y o rk w ill m ean its adop tion in o th e r c it ie s w h ere the lon g-su fferin g ow ners o f p e t an im als h ave h ad n o rea l p rotection against licensed dog-ca tch ers as w e ll as th ieves and b lackm ailers w ho grabbed up cats and d o gs fo r th e rew ard expected . Th is fea tu re is qu ite aside fro m any c ru e lty , and interests eve ry person w hose fea rs o r sym path y cou ld b e w o rk ed on by sk illfu l sharpers. P rac tic e in s tea lin g cats and dogs has a lready em boldened th e th ieves to ca rry o f f ch ild ren and even the bodies o f the dead, and there is n o reason w h y o n e ’ s w ife o r husband should n ot b e h e ld fo r ransom ,— in deed , w h y s tea lin g rich peop le ou t o f s leep ing-cars m igh t n o t p ro ve m ore p ro fit ­able than robb in g th e ex p ress-cars. P o p u la r in terest in s o c i­eties fo r the p reven tion o f c ru e lty ou gh t to be g rea te r than i t i s ; fo r w ho can te ll h ow fa r any m ean and v ic iou s m an o r w om an w ill g o w hen once started on the b road and easy road d o w n h ill ?

D ynam ite O utrages.T h e bom b-th row ing and ca fe-w reck in g so o ften th e b u rd en o f

European new s are n o t h a lf u n derstood th is s ide o f th e A t la n t ic . W e have som e such ou trages because w e h ave p eo p le am on gst us o f in tense selfishness. In th e ir v ie w , there m u st b e d es tru c­tion to c lea r the ground fo r b e tte r th in gs . B u t then w e h a ve the grea t an tido te o f pu b lic op in ion fr e e ly exp ressed and un­fe tte red by any slavish regard fo r w h at ou r g ran d fa th ers th ou gh t. Perhaps our g rea test con serva tive fo rc e is u n sparin g r id icu le . Th at is a lm ost a crim e in th e o ld w o r ld , and p roph ets o f e v i l p red ict it w ill be so here when th e v iv a c ity o f you th is o u tg ro w n by ou r peop le . S till, such proph ets o v e r lo o k th e d iffe ren ce betw een contem ptuous rid icu le and good -n a tu red re p ro o f o r d is s en t; and go o d natu re easily go es hand in hand w ith g o o d liv in g . Th e Czar m igh t s leep easily i f Russian anarch ists w e re not m artyred in S iberia, bu t penned up and fa tten e d lik e sh ow ca ttle fo r a cou ntry fa ir. W h y n ot ?

DEMOREST'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE. 427

Our Flag at Rio.While Americans are not warlike, the great bulk of the people

would like the flag to float on every sea as the symbol of true lib­erty to every oppressed man or woman. That feeling was grati­fied when our fleet of new warships was cleared for action in the harbor of Rio. This was not a threat to destroy the homes of innocent people in revenge for some one’s evil doing, or to obtain some unfair business advantage. War vessels of the rebels at­tempted to interfere with American commerce in violation of international law, and after great forbearance were informed, not only at the cannon’s mouth (for that was not enough), but by a shot as well directed as usual in our navy, that law must prevail. Since that shot—and it was only a little gun which dis­charged it—there has been petty annoyance such as rowdy boys inflict upon policemen, but no further need to support the flag with loaded guns. British men-of-war used to be prompt to load their guns, and even destroy towns, for such interference with commerce. At Rio they have done nothing, though accused of thereby favoring the rebels in a desire to restore the empire. Instead of a shot such as the Detroit sent into the impudent Bra­zilian, the British and other foreign war-vessels have not even protected their own merchantmen ; and finally a Britisher, with more sense than pride, applied to our admiral for protection while obtaining water, and behind the broad stripes and bright stars of the Yankee flag took in that necessary liquid. This made the far-away editorial lions of England roar and roar again, and then figuratively chew their tails (now America is too rich and too friendly with Russia, and even with Germany and France, for any old-time threats), and then the excitement died out. Nor did it rise again when an ingenious German shipmaster asked the American admiral for protection against the theft of his cargo unloaded into barges and still lying beside his ship. The grant­ing of this request would have embarked our ships in a general lighterage business, for the harbor was full of ships waiting to unload, and our admiral refused, without complaint by anyone save the disappointed German. But the effect of the Detroit’s shot still remained, and in a little while the rebel fleet was com­pelled to surrender for want of that outside assistance which could not be had without a breach of international law. There was Uncle Sam’s big fleet to keep the law, and so the officers and big fighters among the rebels fled to Portuguese and French war- vessels and were carried away without further fuss. Just before the fleet surrendered, an election for President of the Republic of Brazil was held under unusual conditions; the prevailing martial law was suspended to allow a freer ballot, and the can­didate favored by the government party was not a military man ; thus the excuses for rebellion were cut away. There appears to be very little doubt that the rebellion could have succeeded, with­out regard to any causes for its commencement, only by a resto­ration of a monarchical form of government. Several European nations would have been interested from family relations between their sovereigns and the restored family of Dom Pedro ; and of course Great Britain would have benefited commercially. But the strength of our fleet and the seeming indifference of the European navies were always present towards the last to the leaders and schemers in Rio de Janeiro. A similar fleet at other family differences in South America will gradually produce that wholesome regard for an American which appears necessary for the peace and prosperity of this hemisphere.Consumption as a Dangerous Disease.

Last September the Michigan State Board of Health began to require notice to the local health-officer of the location of per­sons suffering with consumption and tubercular diseases. This action is similar to that taken about twenty years ago in relation to scarlet fever. The notice is required to be given by the phy­sician in charge or by the householder, and results in the neigh­bors of the premises where such disease exists receiving pam­phlets explaining how to restrict the spread of the disease. The result of twenty years' enforcement of such rules relating to scar­let fever is thought to have cut down the death-rate one half, as there has been intelligent cooperation in isolation and disinfec­tion. This action in relation to consumption has not yet reached any positive results. In January of this year the Philadelphia College of Physicians conceded that disinfection and isolation were advisable; but did not recommend that they be compul­sory. The interference of the State Board of Health is, how­ever, justified by the large number of the poor who have no regular physician, and who do not know the danger they are car­rying to others and how readily it may be avoided. Then, too, there are the people who will expectorate anywhere, without the slightest regard to their neighbors, and rather think they are as­serting their rights in this way. As the Michigan plan appeals for popular support, it is confessedly a halfway measure; but even as such it is believed that every year the lives of fifteen hundred persons can be saved in that State.Household Motors.

Sewing-machines, and even washing and wringing machines, in private houses, have frequently been looked after by inven­tors of small motors, and a very practical spring-motor appeared some years ago. But the trouble of winding and the consider- able cost prevented its use. Then came the cheaper and less troublesome water-motor, without plumbing but compelling the operator to keep the sewing-machine and the water-motor rea­sonably near a stationary washstand, bathtub, or some such exit fo r the waste water. Of course with a little care this

Vol . X X X .—M a y , 1894.—31

objection might be overcome ; but too many operators would prefer to use the treadle rather than to stop and connect rubber tubing and turn on and off the water. Now the electric motor seems most likely to come into general use, as even factories are demanding separate motors for each sewing-machine. Instead of running by a large motor thirty or fifty sewing-machines, each starting and stopping independently of the other, it is round cheaper to supply each machine with a small motor and a key (or switch) to turn on and off the current. When these little factory motors are made in large quantities they will not only be cheap in price but perfectly safe to handle, and no family need fear to use such a machine, whether supplied with power from a battery in the house or through a wire from some electric company. There are still improvements to be made to diminish the number of parts and for the protection of the machine from careless use, and these might delay the invention o f a good motor if it were to be sold only to families. With assured sale to factories, inventors and capitalists now have the necessary incentives.Lord Rosebery.

The new premier of England is in some respects a remarkable man. Probably no leader of a political party was ever more gen­erally respected and personally liked by those violently opposed to the principles he advocates. A man of wide human sympa­thies, he has always been prominent as a friend of education and everything that means progress for the race. He has rendered great service to the municipal interests of London as chairman of the Loudon County Council; working tirelessly and spending time and strength in an apparently thankless task, as none but his immediate family knew anything of the labor involved. His over­whelming success in every public office has been only what his country, Scotland, which has had faith in him from the begin­ning, has expected. He has been known to wish he were a com ­moner, not from any hostility to his order, but because he felt his high rank and titles were a handicap to him in his efforts for the reform of time-honored abuses, war against which he could more effectually wage in the House o f Commons than in the House of Lords.

A man of brilliant wit and ready tact, without the least trace of affectation, Lord Rosebery is as popular with “ the masses ” as with “ the classes ; ” his purity of purpose and uprightness of character have never been questioned by his bitterest oppo­nent ; and all who come in touch with him, whatever their rank, recognize as a governing principle of his life the universal broth­erhood of man. He is the idol of the Scottish people, who call him “ the uncrowned king of Scotland.”The Political Situation in England.

England’s new premier interests Americans less as a contrast to Gladstone, than as a mile-post in political progress. That con­servative land belies its conservatism by all manner o f radical schemes to revolutionize the suffrage, the land tenure, the almost inborn class feeling, and the fundamental principles of all laws. Old-fashioned Tories and Churchmen look across to America and sigh for our steady progress, while even the most radical of the Liberals seriously contemplate the States Rights theories of the fifties and dream of a federation between Ire­land, Scotland, Australia, and all greater Britain with the Eng­land of pre-Reformation times. The most curious suggestion, as it is the latest, is an arrangement for an allied British and American Navy, chiefly on the score of economy to each country, though somewhat appealing to American patriotism by offering to leave the Western hemisphere to our domination.Kossuth.

The death of the great Hungarian leader recalls not only his own visit to America forty-odd years ago, but also the previous visit of Lafayette and the popular enthusiasm over both men. Lafayette had fought with the heroes o f our Revolution, while Kossuth had not been born until two decades after our Inde­pendence, yet to this day Kossuth holds the affection of the American people. While we share with the English the honor of having saved his life when the Hungarian rebellion against Aus­tria collapsed in 1849, it was one of our new steam-frigates which bore Kossuth away, as our nation’s guest, from Turkey, where he had taken refuge. It is a curious coincidence that our new steam-frigates of that day were as superior to European war- vessels as our new ships of today are now believed to be. Of course, our national affection for Kossuth is in a sense purer than for Lafayette, for Kossuth fought none of our battles. His native land and its freedom engaged all o f his attention. His knowledge of English came to him sixty years ago, from lonely prison hours when he had been forbidden all other reading, and was suffering punishment for revealing the true condition of his country. It was this intense patriotism and thorough belief in republican institutions which stirred the American heart. After the war of 1866 between Germany and Austria, Kossuth lost all hopes of seeing the freedom of his native land, and refusing to live in his own country while joined to Austria, he has died an exile whose influence may yet bring his people to self-govern­ment. The impressive demonstrations over his death may not result in any great change, for Hungary lies a neighbor to Rus­sia and Germany, whose rulers would rather dismember the land than see a republican form of government so near to broken Poland on the one hand and the Greek principalities on the other.

428 D E M O R E S T ' S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .

Mrs. Orr, o f Youngstow n , O ., is en gaged w ith her husband in the undertaking business.

Mrs. M artha Strickland, a law yer o f D etro it, lectu res on par­liam entary law to parlor classes o f wom en in Ch icago.

Mrs. Am anda Smith, an A m erican co lo red w om an, is d e liv er­in g tem perance lectures in E ngland, under the auspices o f Lady H enry Som erset.

Mrs. Yates, o f O nehunga, N e w Zealand, has been m ade the firs t woman M ayor w ith in the lim its o f the British E m pire.

Mrs. Gladstone has ju st passed her e igh ty-firs t b irthday, and her v ita lity is as rem arkable as that o f her husband.

Mrs. L . C. D w ine ll, o f C o lorado Springs, has been appoin ted by the G overnor o f C olorado a m em ber o f the board o f trustees o f the D eaf, M ute, and B lin d In stitu te , at C o lorado Springs.

A bi-m onthly paper ca lled " E l Fatat ” ( “ Th e Y o u n g W om an ” ) is published at A lexan dria , E gyp t. A Syrian lady, M iss H in d N ou fa l, o f T r ip o li, is the ed ito r, and a ll the contribu tors are women.

Mrs. John R ockefe ller and h er daughters spend vast sums annually on charities o f eve ry description . M iss A lta R o ck e fe l­ler supports and superintends a p riva te hosp ita l o f her own fo r women, at which she has entertainm ents g iven e ve ry w eek to in terest the invalids.

Mrs. B rad ley T . Johnson, o f Baltim ore, w ho arm ed, c lothed , and equipped the first M aryland reg im en t in M ay, 1861, and a fter­ward nursed the soldiers o f the com m and through an ep idem ic o f typhoid fever, has been e lected an honorary m em ber o f the M aryland L ine.

Lady Butler, who is better know n in this country as E lizabeth Thom pson, the pain ter o f the fam ous “ R o ll C a ll,” is liv in g at A ldershot w ith her husband, Gen. Sir W illia m Butler, and their five children. Lady B u tler is pa in ting a p ictu re fo r the R oya l Academ y, the subject being W aterloo .

Miss M ary P hilbrook, o f Jersey C ity , w ho is the first woman in N ew Jersey to apply fo r admission to the bar, first becam e interested in law w h ile type-w riter and amanuensis in a law yer ’ s office, where she had access to lega l litera tu re. She is on ly twenty-three years old.

Fourteen young wom en o f Ind ianapolis laundries, by pu tting their sm all means together and borrow ing the rest o f the m oney, established the U nion C ooperative Laundry tw o years ago. Th ey now own a plant va lued at $4,000, c lear o f incum brance, and the business is one o f the m ost prosperous industries o f the city.

Mrs. Ann S. Austin, w ho was la te ly e lec ted m ayor o f P leas- onton, Kan., a town o f a thousand inhabitants, is described as an O hio woman o f N ew England ancestry, a bright, in te lligen t per­son, and blessed w ith tact. She has been prom inent in social, religious, and politica l w ork , is a State o fficer o f the Indepen­dent Order o f Good Tem plars, and an active woman suffragist.

The R a ilw a y Commissioners o f V ictoria , N . S. W ., claim that they have effected a saving o f fu lly £ 1 0 , 0 0 0 by p lacing wom en in charge o f railway stations. T h e ir services have g iven general sat­isfaction ; and although tw o hundred w om en are now in charge o f stations it is intended to increase the number. W hen heavy w ork has to be done, men are sent from the nearest main station.

About three hundred wom en la te ly h eld a m eeting at Sinai Tem ple, Chicago, to organize the Ch icago Section o f the N ationa l Council o f Jew ish W om en. Mrs. H . Solom on, President o f the Council, set fo rth its purposes as fo l lo w s : T o awaken Jew ish women and men to a better kn ow ledge o f the ir re lig ion , by means o f study in the council and by exertin g an in fluence upon the Sabbath sch o o l; and to prom ote preven tive philanthropy. 8 everal prom inent rabbis w ere present.

Mrs. Frederick V anderb ilt likes to fit g ir ls fo r self-support. Through the pastors o f the fo re ign missionary churches in out- of-the-way corners o f N ew Y o rk she learns o f g ir ls o f ab ility who on ly need a start. Th is she furnishes by sending the g ir l $500. One g ir l thus helped fitted h erse lf at a cook ing-school fo r the position o f a cordon b leu ; another w ent to a tra in ing-school fo r nurses; another studied art. E ve ry year at least ten you n g women are thus started in life .

Chat.A lo v e ly country w ed d in g which is set fo r the first o f June

augurs w e ll i n name, a t least, fo r the fu tu re happiness o f tb p rospective bride and groom . I t is to be a c lo ve r w edd ing, the sw eet w h ite and pinkish -purple blossom s o f the c lover w ith m aidenhair ferns b e in g used la v ish ly to decorate both the dear o ld -tim ey church, and the spacious room s, w ide halls, and broad p iazzas o f the b ride ’ s sum m er hom e, w here she has elected that th is im portan t day in h er l i fe shall be celebrated. She will thus be surrounded by her nearest and dearest friends, and not be exposed to the m erciless cu riosity o f the c ity rabble o f w ell-dressed fo lk , wh o ou gh t to k n ow better, but who throng the sidew alks contiguous to churches w h en ever the aw ning the door announces a w edd ing, and even rush in to the street and surround the b rid e ’s carriage fo r the sake o f a peep at their v ictim . M any friends from tow n w ill g o ou t to the “ c lover w ed d in g ,” and they w ill be m et a t the station— three m iles dis- t a n t - b y flow er-trim m ed hay-racks and oth er rustic veh icles ' which w ill convey them to the church. In stead o f the t r adi- tional w edding-m arch w hen the bridal party en ter the children o f the Sunday-school, w here the bride has taught every summer since she w as in her early teens, w ill s ing a caro l w ritten fo r the occasion. E ig h t you n g g ir ls w ho fo rm the b rid e ’s class in Sun- day-school are to be her maids, and w ill w ear gow n s o f sheer In d ia lawn trim m ed w ith m any row s o f Valenciennes insertion, and ivo ry -w h ite m oire ribbon. T h e ir p ictu re h ats of shirred lawn w ill bear nodd ing clover-b lossom s, and they w ill carry para- sols o f w h ite chiffon w h ich w hen closed w il l look l ik e s h o w e r bouquets o f c lover. A sister o f the bride w ill be h er m a id o f honor and w ear a gow n o f accord ion -p la ited chiffon. A ft e r the cerem ony there w ill be dancing on the lawn and bride's tab le w ill be set under a c lo ve r canopy on the w ide piazza. E very pleasure and de ligh t o f a law n fete w ill be prepared fo r th e en terta inm ent o f the v illa g e and tow n fo lk b idden to t he f east, bu t early in the a ftern oon th e b ride and groom w ill qu ie tly start in a phaeton fo r som e lit t le adventures o f th e ir own.

The coaching days are here again, and ju d g in g from the lively in terest m anifested and the many n ove l pro jects, financial de- pression has n ot touched the fo rtu n ate holders o f the ribbons.A ll the w ell-kn ow n m en w ho have been iden tified w ith coaching

in this country and abroad are in terested in th e present schemes and have drawn in n ew men. W ith the coach in g tr ip from Paris to London — the coaches crossing the treacherous channel on a special s te a m e r-w e ll established, i t is s a fe t o c o n je c t u r e t h a t the n ex t th in g w ill be a ta lly-ho running from London to Wash-ington . T h e m ere m atter o f crossing “ the p o n d ” __by somerespectfu l bu t o ld -fash ioned fo lk ca lled the A tlan tic Ocean - w i l l be n oth ing w ith a p riva te “ greyh ou n d ” the jo l ly crow d over. T h ey w ill land, o f course a t E lizabethport,hallow ed by W ash in gton ’ s departure, andon the m acadam ized roads o f the near fu tu re to c ap i t a l of the w estern w orld . W ith proph etic eye w e see th e grea t trans-con- tinenta l bou levard stre tch in g o ver m ountains, p ra ir ie s ,va lley s , and plains and hear the m erry coaching-horn as th e g litterin g coach w ith its ga y crow d speeds on its w ay betw een N e w York and San Francisco.

The chic bridal-bouquet is com posed o f a num ber o f small ones correspond ing to the num ber o f bridesm aids, is tied w ith w ide w h ite ribbon o f w hich there are several stream ers each ornam ented w ith a cluster o f flow ers, and in one section is h i d d e n

a r in g w h ich is said to possess a m ystic influence. W hen the bride leaves her attendant m aids to don h er go in g-aw ay gown, she pauses h a lf-w ay up the staircase, and loosen in g the con­fin ing ribbon tosses the nosegay am ong th e m aids ; and happy is she to whom F a te awards the ring, fo r she w ill be a bride w ith in a year. Th e idea l brida l-bouquet o f the m om ent is com posed o f w h ite orch ids and w hite lilacs.

Spring flow ers are now the fa vo rites fo r tab le decorations and crocuses and da ffod ils , tu lips and daisies, hyacin ths and lilies o f the va lley , and prim roses and v io le ts are used in profusion . W hen there are small tables, each has its special flow er and co lor, and the e ffec t is very artistic. F o r betroth al d inners and bridesm aids’ luncheons it is de rigu eu r tha t the floral decorations be pink.

W h a t W o m e n A r e D o i n g .

DEMOREST 'S F A M IL Y M AGAZINE. 4 2 9

S a n ita r ia n .

Correct W a lk in g and Breathing.T O a ll person s in te re s ted in th e p rog ress o f th e race

to w a rd s p h ys ic a l p e r fe c t io n th e re is m uch fo od fo r th o u gh t in th e spectac le p resen ted on e v e ry occasion

w h ich d raw s g re a t th ron gs o f p eo p le to g e th e r. B y actual count o f a c ro w d on an y o f o u r c ity streets it w il l b e fou n d that n o t tw o p eop le in one h u n dred h o ld th e ir bod ies co r­rectly , w a lk w e ll, o r b rea th e p ro p e r ly . A n d th ese h ab itu a l actions a re fu n d am en ta l steps in p rog ress o r d eteriora tion , and an in fa llib le in d ex to th e cu ltu re , ch aracter, and ph ys ica l h ea lth o f th e hum an b e in g .

A ce leb ra ted F ren ch p h ys io gn o m is t w as w o n t to dec lare that h e h ad bu t to fo l lo w p erson s and im ita te th e ir w a lk , gestu res, and fa c ia l exp ress ion , to d iagn ose a ccu ra te ly th e ir | gen era l ch aracteris tics , and e sp ec ia lly th e em otions o f th e m om ent. N o w i f w e rea lized , a lw a ys , w h en m in g lin g w ith ou r fe llo w -b e in g s , th a t “ h e th a t ru ns m ay r e a d ” even ou r m ost sec re t th ou gh ts , w e sh ou ld ce r ta in ly pu t a gu a rd upon o u rse lves th a t th e th o u gh ts m ig h t b e such as w e sh ou ld not be asham ed to a ck n ow led ge i f th e y w e re procla im ed fro m th e h ou setops. I f y o u dou b t th is sta tem en t, y o u h a ve bu t to m in g le w ith th e c ro w d and im ita te p ron ou n ced w a lk s and gestu res , to b e fu l ly con v in ced o f th e tru th o f th e th e o ry ; and y o u w i l l a lso be d eep ly im pressed b y th e p h ys ica l and m en ta l e ffec ts thu s produced .

P a r exem ple, assum e a s lou ch in g ga it, le t th e b o d y fa ll h e a v ily o v e r on one h ip , d ra g one fo o t a fte r th e o th er, d rop th e ou te r corn ers o f th e e y eb ro w s and th e corn ers o f th e m ou th , and, p resto ! y o u w i l l in s ta n tly fe e l c o m p le te ly d e­m o ra lized ,— a w reck , u tte r ly u n fit fo r th e s lig h tes t m en ta l o r p h ys ica l ex ertion ! A s yo u pu rsu e y o u r in ves tiga tio n s you w i l l b e am azed by d is c o ve r in g h o w fr e q u e n t ly th e hum an be in g appears but a h u ge lu m p o f sem i-in e rt m a tte r w ith a countenance ex p ress in g as n ea r ly a m en ta l va cu u m as N a tu re can to le ra te . T h ese a re cases o f h ea v in ess o f m in d ac tin g upon th e body, and tha t, in tu rn , d ep ress in g th e m ind, t i l l th e cond ition , i f n o t d isease, c lo s e ly a pp roach es i t ; and th e person is an easy v ic t im to a n y and e v e r y con tam in ation th a t is in th e a ir.

I t w ere an easy m a tte r to c ite ex a m p les in n u m erab le , s im i­la r to th e a b ove , o f h o w -n o t-to -d o -it ; b u t it is n o t a p lea s ­in g n or a p ro fita b le s tu d y e x c ep t as a w a rn in g , a n d w e h a ve pu rsued it fa r en ou gh fo r th a t p u rp ose . M u ch m o re p rac tica l w il l it be, and fa r m o re in te re s t in g , to s tu d y co rre c t m eth ods o f w a lk in g and h o ld in g o u r bod ies , and y o u w i l l fin d the e x a m p les o f h o w -to -d o -it p leasan t a n d e v e n fa sc in a tin g .

T h e fir s t e r r o r th a t m an y p eo p le , e sp e c ia lly w om en and g ir ls , fa l l in to w h e n to ld to h o ld th e f ig u re e re c t is to th ru st ou t th e ch in an d t ip th e sh ou ld ers b a ck , w h ich g iv e s th e abdom en d isa g reea b le p rom in en ce and le a v e s a p o s it iv e c a v ­i t y in th e back . B es id es b e in g v e r y u n g ra ce fu l, th is th row s th e b o d y o u t o f ba lan ce , s tra in s th e sp in a l co lu m n , and en ­ta ils g r e a t fa t ig u e (th e sp in e is , p erh a p s , on e o f th e m ost h a b itu a lly abu sed p a rts o f th e hum an b o d y ). W h e n w e rise to w a lk th e w h o le b o d y sh ou ld b e th ro w n in to a sta te o f g e n e ra l ten s ion w h ic h b r in g s a ll th e m u sc les in to v ig o rou s a ction , and so p e r fe c t ly b a la n ced th a t e v e r y p a rt does its w o rk w ith o u t p e rc ep t ib le s tra in . In th is ba lanced position th e lip s , ch in , ch est, and to es com e u pon a lin e ; th e shou lder, h ip , and a n k le jo in ts a re a lso u pon a lin e , and th e shou lder- b la d es p ro je c t o n ly a l i t t le b e y o n d th e h ee ls . In th is posi­t io n th e b o d y a cq u ires its g rea te s t ease, and e v e ry m uscle p e r fo rm s a m a x im u m o f la b o r w ith a m in im u m o f w aste and co n seq u en t ex p en d itu re o f fo rce .

W h e n w a lk in g , accustom yo u rs e lf to freq u en t in te rva ls o f conscious b rea th in g ; th is is o f th e u tm ost im portance, fo r no in vo lu n ta ry action o f th e body is h ab itu a lly so care less ly p e r fo rm ed — so a lm ost sh irked— as th is one, and upon no o th er does o u r h ea lth so la rg e ly depend. T h e g rea t m a jo r ity o f th e hum an race k eep th e ir lu n gs in a sta te o f sem i-starva ­tion ; and diseases and a ilm en ts m an ifo ld can b e traced to th is cause a lone, since th e v e r y act w h ich d ep rives you o f l i fe - g iv in g o xygen a lso re tu rns to th e a rteries im p u re b lood w e igh ted w ith poisonous carbon ic acid.

I f th e lu n gs be p ro p e r ly in fla ted , th is act a lone g iv e s to th e b od y a bu oyan cy g re a t ly in creasin g th e p leasu re and lessen ­in g th e exertion o f w a lk in g . O f course a m in c in g o r lan gu id step m ust be avo ided . T a k e a fr e e and firm , bu t l ig h t stride, ba lan c in g th e u pper part o f th e b o d y a lte rn a te ly upon each h ip — bu t w ith o u t sw a y in g it p e rcep tib ly— and g iv in g th e im ­petus fo rw a rd w ith a s ligh t sp r in g fro m th e ba ll o f th e fo o t. N a tu ra lly , a t first, th e m in d w i l l h ave to d irect these m otions ; bu t th e b o d y responds d e lig h t fu lly to r ig h t w a ys o f d o in g th in gs , and i f th e exerc ise o f w a lk in g can be taken w h e re th e re is m uch o f in te res t to d iv e r t one, it w ill be fou n d a g rea t advan tage, fo r th is read y and ch eer fu l response o f th e en tire b od y w h en its m uscles are thus ca lled in to h arm on iou s action im parts a sense o f ex h ila ra tion w h ich w il l m ake yo u fe e l m ore lik e a b ird than a n y th in g e lse can t i l l fly in g - m ach ines are accom plished facts.

T h e lu n gs h ave th e ir o w n m u scu lar p o w er, w h ich , u n - fo rtu n a te ly , is n ot m ore than h a lf d eve lop ed . T h e s im p lest p rep a ra to ry exerc ise is fu ll, d eep b rea th in g ; d ra w in a lo n g , deep breath , exp a n d in g th e chest as fu l ly as possib le w ith o u t s tra in in g e ith e r lu n gs o r m uscles. R e ta in th e b rea th th u s taken w h ile yo u count ten ; th en as s lo w ly as possib le e x p e l it. T h is conscious b rea th in g w i l l soon en la rge and stren g th en th e lu n gs , and th e m ore fre q u e n tly yo u can m ake th is a con ­scious action th e b e tte r fo r y o u r lu n gs and h ea lth .

A n efficacious rem ed y fo r obstina te cases o f in som nia is to lie fla t upon th e back and in h a le and exh a le deep , lo n g b rea th s ; take th ir ty o r fo r ty o f them , th en tu rn on one s ide — p re fe ra b ly th e r ig h t— and s leep w i l l com e b e fo re yo u k n o w it, unless yo u h a v e th e pern ic iou s h ab it o f ta k in g y o u r w o rk to b ed w ith you . T h e fa c ility w ith w h ich w e can rest and recu pera te fro m g rea t fa t igu e , e ith e r m en ta l o r ph ys ica l, d e ­pends g re a t ly u pon o u r p o w er o f d ism iss in g th o u gh t and en cou rag in g a sta te o f vacu ity . I t is a qu estion o f h ab it, b u t one w h ich is in e v e ry o n e ’s p o w e r to acqu ire ; and o f so g rea t va lu e th a t it is w o r th m ore than a s ligh t e ffo r t to w in .

R em em b er in a ll b rea th in g exerc ises th a t N a tu re ’s aven u e to th e lu n gs is th rou gh th e n ostr ils ; p ro v is io n is m ade in th e nasal passages to catch im p u rities and fo re ig n substances w h ich i f ca rr ied to th e lu ngs, as w h en b rea th in g th rou gh th e m ou th , m igh t cause seriou s trou b le . T h e v e r y best t im e to practice lu n g gym n astics is in th e m o rn in g b e fo re dress­in g , and aga in a t n igh t, fo r th e b ody sh ou ld be fr e e fro m a ll re s tra in in g c lo th in g . S tand erect, w ith ch in dow n , and rise upon th e toes as yo u in ha le , h o ld th e b rea th a fe w m om ents so th a t th e a ir m ay act on th e w h o le su rface o f th e b lood , n ou rish in g it and at th e sam e tim e ta k in g up im p u re gases, then ex p e l it fo r c e fu lly and as c o m p le te ly as possib le , com ­in g dow n upon th e heels at th e sam e tim e. F iv e m inu tes o f th is w o rk n igh t and m orn in g w ill w o rk w onders.

I f a p rop e r carriage o f th e b o d y be re ta in ed in a ll th e o rd i­n ary du ties o f l i fe , w h e th e r s itt in g o r w a lk in g , it w i l l b e fou n d to g rea tly m in im ize th e fa tigu e o f d a ily du ties. I t is th e th ro w in g dou b le w o rk on som e m uscles b y le a v in g o th ers in id leness th a t causes m ore than h a lf th e pain o f back and lim bs w h ich w om en su ffer. I f you w a lk up sta irs p rop erly , w ith figu re erect, le g s and jo in ts flex ib le , and b rea th e p rop erly , it is a h ea lth fu l exerc ise w h ich cannot h arm even a fe eb le wom an. M a r c i a D u n c a n , M .D .

430 DEMOREST’S F A M IL Y M AG AZIN E .

H o u s e h o ld .

Flower Luncheons.

JA P A N and th in g s Japanese h a v e been so w id e ly s tu d ied d u r in g th e past tw e lv e m on th s, th a t th e a rt and cu ltu re o f th is u n iqu e p eo p le h a v e m ade a d e ­

c ided im p ress upon som e o f o u r fash ion s and w a ys o f d o in g th in gs . N o ta b ly , i t is fe l t in th e r e v o lt a ga in st th e cru de and in a rtis tic fa sh ion o f d eco ra tin g o u r houses fo r fe s ta l occa­sions w ith flo w e rs w h ich w e re fo rc ed e n t ire ly ou t o f season. I t had th e recom m en dation to th e n ou ve a u x r ich es and th ose c ra zy fo r n o v e lty o f b e in g so e x p e n s iv e th a t bu t fe w cou ld fo l lo w it, and g a v e to th e ir d isp lays a p ron ou n ced stam p o f lu x u ry and ex tra va ga n ce . B u t n o w go o d ta ste w i l l h a v e none o f i t ; o s ten ta tion m u st ta k e a back seat ; b ea u ty m u st be th e firs t con s idera tion , and in so fa r as p oss ib le m ake on e fo rg e t its cost.

Although flower luncheons are no longer a novelty, they have by no means lost favor ; and ever the ingenuity of woman is devising some novel combination or feature which gives to the occasion all the interest and enjoyment of prac­tically a new thing. A m i-ca re m e luncheon, which cele­brated a birthday and did honor at the same time to some out-of-town guests, elevated to popular favor the modest crocus and snowdrop. The crocuses were of all shades of purple and lavender and also white, with just here and there a yellow one, shining like rays of sunshine through summer clouds. They were arranged in a mass, with their own leaves, just as if growing, in the center of the table. The cloth was of finest twilled linen with a wide border of Span­ish drawn-work above the fringe ; and the border of the table-center showing around the flowers was a dainty em­broidery of delicate fern-fronds and pearly snowdrops on sheer white linen. There was much cut glass on the table, and the principal service was white-and-gold china of a sim­ple, delicate pattern ; but the salad set was decorated with maiden’s-hair ferns, an en tree was served on violet china, and for the dessert an exquisite set of orchid plates was used.

A spray of snowdrops and a purple crocus tied with laven­der ribbons was placed beside every cover, and this was the only use of ribbons on the table. The guest cards were little celluloid hands holding clusters of the same flowers, and so designed that they could be used afterwards as book­marks.

The hostess of the day has a dislike to the uncanny appearance of food in unnatural colors, so but little attempt was made to carry out the color scheme in the menu. The Frenched lamb chops had little frills of mauve c r ep e -paper around their bones ; the salad was of delicate purple cabbage and chicory, and the mayonnaise which masked it was tinted with damson-blue and carmine, which make a beautiful mauve. The mauve sorbet had crystallized violets frozen in it, and both the sorbet cups and the finger- bowls were of amethyst glass with dainty borders of gilding.

There are vegetable and fruit colorings that can be used with perfect safety to produce almost any desired color. Apri­cot coloring and saffron will tint anything yellow; apple- green or spinach will color green ; for red, carmine, alone or mixed with apricot coloring, and cherry red will give almost any desired shade; all of these are harmless and tasteless, and can be used without hesitation. Mayonnaise can be colored red by beating into it a small quantity of raspberry jelly.

A charming luncheon given on Easter Monday to the maid of honor and bridesmaids of one of New York's fairest brides was all a golden glory of yellow daffodils ; they

greeted you in the entrance hall, shone from every dark corner and secluded niche, and in fact irradiated the whole house. The table napery was all of purest white except the oblong table-center, the irregularly scalloped border of which was formed by a wreath of daffodils embroidered with yellow floss. In the center of this, resting upon a mirror plaque, was an old blue Delft bowl filled with the joyous blossoms ; at the corners of the table-center were tall, slender crystal vases holding clusters of daffodils, and narrow yellow satin ribbon was tied carelessly around the tops as if holding the flowers in place, and then was twisted around the base and fastened in a loose knot. At every cover stood a small Baccarat vase with a cluster of daffodils, and the guest cards were tiny banners of yellow satin ribbon with a poetical quotation and name in silver, suspended from silver arrows which could be withdrawn and used as hairpins. The bride expectant wore a gown of daffodil-colored c r ep o n , but her mother carried out the harmony of the blue Delft bowl in a quaint gown of oddly figured blue-and-white China c re p e , looking as if she had stepped down from the curio shelf of some old Dutch collector.

It was easy in arranging the menu to run through the gamut of yellows without doing violence to one's preconceived con­ception of the colors of things. Half a shaddock— grape-fruit — picked apart, sugared, etc., and then put back on its skin was the appetizer served before the amber-colored b o u illo n . Broiled salmon with sauce ta r ta re followed this ; then came breaded lamb-chops with yellow tomato sauce, and aspara­gus on toast with yellow cream sauce. The e n tre e was chicken croquettes with Bechamel yellow sauce, preceded by orange sherbet. The salad was lobster and celery on a bed of chicory; and the ices for the dessert were in the form of various yellow fruits, bananas, nectarines, limes, and lemons.

Two clever girls who celebrate their birthdays in May with luncheon-parties will utilize the fruit blossoms in bloom at the time. If Jack Frost does not unkindly interfere with plans for the first, peach-blossoms will be used. W ith her own hands this young maiden has decorated a dessert service and en tree set with peach blossoms ; and Fate cannot be so un­kind as to spoil her plans for their dedication. A cut-glass bowl will be filled with the blooming branches for the center of the table, and midway its length on each side will be placed tall opal glass vases holding a few branches arranged d la Japanese. For the second luncheon, cherry-blossoms are to be used, and all the decorations, souvenirs, etc., will be Japanese. The dining-room has Japanese decorations, and opening out of it is a delightful morning-room where things Japanese have full sway ; and here tea will be served after the luncheon, in dainty blue Heizen cups of the so- called hawthorn pattern, which is really cherry blossoms. These cups will be souvenirs of the pleasant occasion.

Those who have the run of the woods could find nothing lovelier for a late-in-May luncheon than the shy, proud tril- lium, familiarly known as wake-robin, or wood lily. These arranged with wild ferns would be lovely for a green-and- white luncheon, and a menu for these colors is very easy to arrange. A wild-flower luncheon would be charming, using together the delicate blossoms of hepatica, anemone, and violets. The stately flowers of our hillsides and mountains, too, the rhododendron, laurel, and wild azalea— called May pink in New England, and wild honeysuckle in the South — are well adapted, in skillful hands, for most effective dec­oration. The first two are specially commended for the dinner or luncheon table because they are odorless ; and so many people are most unpleasantly affected by strong per­fumes that the wise hostess bars out many lovely flowers on account of their very sweetness. Hyacinths and most

lilies should never be placed in the dining-room.

DEMOREST’S F A M IL Y M AG AZINE . 431

For a purple luncheon, the purple and lavender rhododen­drons could be beautifully arranged with the gracefully droop­ing wistaria; and later in the season that lovely flower, which not even fashion has given the place it ought to hold, the f le u r de lis , could be used with quite as charming effect as orchids, at a tenth of the cost of this millionaires' pet.

During late spring and early summer the wealth of garden shrubs offers an almost endless resource to the decorator at modest cost; and as the summer advances there is an em­barrassment of riches, so it is neither difficult to carry out any color scheme nor to devise something original. The best effects are gained by selecting one, or at most two, flowers ; and if two be chosen they should harmonize, not contrast. It is well, also, to work with a curb rein, as it is very much easier to err on the side of over-elaboration than on that of simplicity.

A lavish use of wide ribbons and silk scarfs is always in doubtful taste, and— for all small mercies we are devoutly thankful— it is pleasant to record that the dreadful plush center-pieces and table runners are things of the past. The general choice for all napery is pure white, though the very expensive cloths enriched with insertions of Venetian gui­pure or Spanish drawn-work are usually underlaid with colored silk. Occasionally tea or luncheon cloths are chosen of the silk damasks, which come in all delicate colors ; but generally color is reserved for the dainty table-centers and d’oyleys which are embroidered with flowers in their natural colors, and when matching the flower used for decoration give effective aid in enhancing these.

E . A . F l e t c h e r .

“ I 'm a Daisy ! ”

Y ou are a “ daisy,” that is clear!I think you know it, too, my dear.The way you clutch that bunch of toes,A n d pucker up your infant nose,And smile at me with all your might,Your dancing eyes just full of light,All tell me quite as plain as day They named you in the proper way.Your title ’s not of queen nor king,To call you “ Daisy” ’s just the thing. T.

The Discontented Man.H e grieved because the times were hard,

And everything went wrong;Such weather would his trade retard,

The butter tasted strong,His coffee never looked quite clear,And everything he bought was dear.

In fact, from early dawn till night He gloried in his woes ;

No earthly thing was ever right,And all his friends were foes.

But this fact most his patience tried :His wife was always satisfied!

W a r n e r W i l l i s F r i e s .

Love’ s Barrier.

(S ee F u ll-p a g e G r a v u r e . )

T HE charming picture which we reproduce this month bears with it a suggestion of fresh and fragrant May

mornings on breezy uplands and heaths with the musical bay of the hounds resounding in the air as they careen in full cry after the fleeing Reynard.

But it is quite evident that though horse and dogs are quite ready for the meet,— nay, restive and impatient under the dallying of their youthful master,— that the gallant youth is more intent on hunting hearts this morning than hunting foxes. The courtly but jealous old father will find his effort to make himself an effective barrier futile, for “ Love laughs at locksmiths ” even, and here it is quite evi­dent that the very hounds are bristling with a sense of the old gentleman’s hostile emotions towards their beloved mas­ter, and are quite ready— no fox being in sight— to make him their quarry.

A Prize of $100 for Photographs.A C h a n c e f o r A m a t e u r s a n d P r o f e s s i o n a l s .

T HE publisher of D e m o r e s t ’s F a m i l y M a g a z i n e offers a prize of $ 1 0 0 for the finest collection of photo-

graphic views illustrating a subject of popular inter­est and suitable for a magazine article. The subjects may be foreign or domestic (preference will be given to the latter), the only stipulation being that the photographs have never been used for publication. The competition will be open until August 1, 1894. Contributions which do not win the prize but are available for publication will be accepted and paid for at regular rates.

From ten to twenty photographs should be included in each group, and the subjects may be anything suitable for publication in a magazine ; those which are most original and timely,— when well executed, of course,— standing the best chance in the contest. If possible, a descriptive article should accompany the photographs ; but when one cannot be sent, data must be given so that one can be prepared, and the possibility of making an interesting article from the matter furnished will be one of the points considered in awarding the prize.

Of the contributions which do not win the prize, those arriving earliest will stand the best chance of being accepted and paid for.

— ------------------------------

A Puzzle Prize.publisher of D e m o r e s t ’s F a m i l y M a g a z i n e

offers a prize of ten dollars for the best puzzle sent in between now and May 1, 1894. The puzzle must

be original, that is it must not have appeared before in any publication, although it is not essential that it shall have been invented by the party sending it in. Many excellent puzzles which have been originated for private amusement would afford a vast amount of fun for the general public if they were published in D e m o r e s t ’s M a g a z i n e . Some of these, indeed, may be of the simplest character and yet pos­sess elements of interest. W e invite all those who know of any puzzles of this kind, which have interested or amused themselves or friends, to send in a description or drawing of them in competition for the prize. Contributions which are meritorious but do not take the prize will be accepted and paid for at regular rates. Of the contributions which do not win the prize, those arriving earliest will stand the best chance of being accepted and paid for.

DEMOREST’S F A M IL Y M AGAZINE.

Puzzles.

D I A M O N D P U Z Z L E .

T h e objects shown represent seven words to be arranged in the form of a diamond. Commencing at the top, each word contains two letters more than the preceding one until the fifth. The fifth and succeeding words each contain two letters less than the preceding word. Arranged in this order, the central letters of these words, when read down­ward, spell the name of a great naturalist.

H O W M A N Y F I S H A B E R E P R E S E N T E D I N T H IS P U Z Z L E , A N D W H A T A B E

T H E I R N A M E S ?

THE BLACKSMITH’S BILL.

A m a n had five pieces of chain, each containing three loops, which he wished to have welded into one piece of chain. He took them to a smithy and asked the price, which was twenty-five cents per weld. The bill was rendered for seventy-five cents. How was the chain welded ?

A RURAL SCENE.

this Look the theI f U will tree & U will C

come the meadow woods riverY Y men planting pppp.

(This is a sentence when correctly read.)

A D A T I N M A Y .

To solve this puzzle, first find the names of objects in the illustration, and place them one under the other. The first and last letters of the words will form the name of a day in May.

W H A T IS M Y NAM E?I 'm a word of five letters but spoken with t w o ;I’m often an object of hate ;Yet the dead and the living Are sure to be giving Submission to me, soon or late.

AN SW E R S TO PUZZLES IN APRIL NUMBER.I. Take IV (Ivy) from 4 ; nothing remains.II. There are twelve birds: Crane, Laughing Jackass,

Dipper, Goose, Kite, Turtle Dove, Kingfisher, Rook, Toucan (two cans), Bunting, Trumpeter, and Daw (door).

R E V I E W OF F A S H I O N S . - M A Y .

T h e m o d es o f th e sp r in g w h ich a re d is t in c t ly th e sm artest a re m a rk e d b y a d e c id ed co n se rva tism and re fre s h in g sim ­p lic it y . W h i l e th e d is t in c t iv e fe a tu re o f m ost ta ilo r -g o w n s is th e n a t ty w a is tc o a t ,——o fte n e r th a n n o t a d d in g a tou ch o f b r ig h t c o n tra s t in g c o lo r ,— th e re is a s e v e re r b u t less m annish s ty le w h ic h o m its b o th w a is tc o a t a n d ch em ise tte , th e corsage la p p in g to th e l e f t an d b u tto n in g fr o m w a is t to shou lder, th u s g i v in g n o p la c e f o r la p p e ls o r r e v e rs ; a s ix -in ch basque, f la r in g m o d e ra te ly , a n d e x te n d in g o n ly to th e fr o n t darts, is s e w e d on a t th e w a is t lin e , an d a l l th e seam s a re s trapp ed ,— th a t is , a v e r y n a r ro w b ia s o f th e c lo th is la id o v e r th e seam s a n d s t itc h e d o n b o th ed ges . T h e s k ir t seam s a lso a re s tra p p ed .

T h e r e is m o re lic en se in th e le n g th o f coa ts th an e v e r b e f o r e ; th e m o s t p r e v a le n t s ty le is th a t w o rn a ll w in te r , w h ic h rea ch es n e a r ly to th e k n ees . B u t th is is su ited o n ly to th o s e fa v o r e d w o m e n w h o a re “ d iv in e ly t a l l . ” L it t le w o m en fin d a tw e lv e - in c h le n g th m o re b ecom in g , w h ile som e p r e fe r th e m n o lo n g e r th a n e ig h t in ch es . T h e m ost u ltra s ty le o f a l l is th e lo n g “ p a d d o c k ” coat, cu t a n y w h e re from ten to f iv e in ch es s h o r te r th an th e g o w n . T h es e a re u su a lly d o u b le -b rea s ted , th e s k ir t e ith e r la p p in g — b u t n e v e r fa s t­en ed — o r cu t a w a y ju s t to m eet, w ith w id e re v e rs bu t no sh o u ld e r co lla r , an d s h o w in g a ch em ise tte and tr im n eck tie a t th e th roa t. T h e P r in c e A lb e r t coa t is s im ila r to th e pad­d o ck , b u t is k n ee le n g th , an d h as w id e , tu rn ed -back cu ffs . O fte n th e cu ffs an d re v e rs a re fa ced w ith m o ire .

T h e fe m in in e w o r ld is n o t so a g ita ted on th e su b ject o f s k ir ts an d th e ir cu t as a t th is season last y ea r , and th e o n ly re su lt o f th e c r in o lin e c ra ze w h ic h ab id es w ith us is th e in c rea sed fu lln e s s o f th e b o tto m s o f o u r go w n s . E v e n th e e f fo r t to in tro d u ce s tra ig h t b ack -b read th s has m et w ith bu t p a rt ia l success, as th e y a re con fin ed e x c lu s iv e ly to th in and w a sh a b le fa b r ic s . T h e r e is s t ill g r e a t v a r ie ty in th e cu t o f g o w n s k ir t s ; f e w o r m a n y go res , and th e c irc le , b e in g s t ill u sed, a cco rd in g to m a te r ia l o r th e taste o f th e w earer. F o r a ll w a lk in g -g o w n s th e a im is to secu re a sk ir t th a t w il l fla re w e ll a t th e fo o t ju s t b ack o f th e h ip s and h an g in e ven flu tes, o r godets, b eh in d , c le a r in g th e g rou n d a ll around. F a n c ifu l

trim m in gs are con fined to house and even in g gow ns, th ose fo r th e s treet b e in g sev e re ly p la in , o r h a v in g on ly a flat tr im m in g.

T h e sk irts o f ta ilo r-gow n s m easure fro m th ree and a h a lf to fo u r yards, and are cu t w a lk in g le n g th ; th ey are lined w ith s ilk , w ith o r w ith ou t crino line, o r s im p ly faced, and fre q u e n t ly th e seam s are stitched on th e outside, o r strapped. In add ition to th e p e r fe c t fit and correct outlines o f a ta ilor- g o w n , a d is tin gu ish in g charm is the adm irab le fin ish , the neat p ress in g and stitch ing.

E lab o ra tion o f m ake and tr im m in g are reserved fo r silks, grenad ines, and crep on s and th e m yriad o f da in ty summ er fab rics , upon a ll o f w h ich th e m odiste s till lav ish es h er in gen u ity in d ev is in g un iqu e and odd e f fe c ts ; bu t a ll these d ressy go w n s are in tended fo r socia l functions. Contrasts are n ot so d a rin g as la st season, and a re lie f note o f b lack, in n arrow est p ip in gs o r trim m in gs, o r loops and bow s o f r ib ­bon ,— v e lv e t o r m o ire ,— is added to ev e ry th in g and anyth ing. B la ck m o ire , esp ec ia lly , is m ak in g up fo r its lo n g dethrone­m en t b y an unpreceden ted popu larity .

A s a ru le it m ay be said th a t shou lder trim m in gs h ave been d ec id ed ly m o d e ra ted ; and on som e gow n s th ey are en tire ly om itted . S leeves con tinue la rge , bu t are no lon ger enor­m ous ; th e re is g rea t v a r ie ty in th e ir cut and in th e arrange­m ent o f pu ffs , and m ore atten tion is g iv en to fin ish ing the w ris ts than fo r severa l seasons past. Buttons, also, are com in g in s igh t again , and th e fron ts o f E ton and other ja ck ets h a ve row s o f th em on both sides,— eith er sm all ones, c lose to ge th e r, o r la rg e ones at w id e in terva ls ,— w ith loops o f s ilk cord, and th e y can be fastened sn u gly toge th er o r le ft open , accord in g to conven ience. On w oo len fabrics and linen and duck ou ting-su its, pearl and horn buttons are u s ed ; but on s ilk s , and a ll fa n cy stu ffs, r ich ly chased o r cut m etal and je w e le d ones a re seen.

T rim m in gs h ave lost n o th in g o f th e d a zz lin g sh im m er and g l it t e r w h ich m ark th e fash ions o f th is f in de siecle period, and in years to com e w ill be a fea tu re o f its re v iva l. G a l­loon s th ic k ly sew n w ith p a ille ttes are the m ost popu lar fin ish fo r an edge, and com e in w id th s from a qu arter to fou r inches. In b lack and stee l the w id e bands are su ggestive o f arm or. V e r y sm art d in ner and even in g gow n s are o f b lack satin o r m oire, v e iled w ith b lack ch iffon o r lace, em broid­ered w ith steel beads and pa illettes.

DEMOREST'S FA M ILY M AGAZINE.

A Modish Design.A f a n c y figu red crep on is th e fa b r ic o f

th is p re tty g o w n ; it is a m ix tu re o f b row n and g o ld tin ts w ith o liv e green . T h e sk irt o f ou r m odel, go red a ll around bu t qu ite

Afternoon and Reception Gowns.C o r n e l l B a s q u e . C a m e r o n S k i r t . P r e s t o n B a s q u e . M e r l i n S k i r t .

Afternoon and Reception Gowns.

T w o a t t r a c t i v e

m o d e l s a r e h e r e

s h o w n , s u i t a b l e f o r

a f t e r n o o n s a t h o m e ,

r e c e p t i o n s , c a l l i n g ,

a n d f o r c h u r c h w e a r .

T h e g o w n o n t h e

s t a n d i n g f i g u r e s —

w h i c h g i v e b o t h

f r o n t a n d b a c k

v i e w s — i s o f

t a n - c o l o r e d

f a c e d - c l o t h

c o m b i n e d w i t h

b r a i d e d . O t h e r p r e t t y c o m b i n a t i o n s a r e t a n w i t h b r o w n ,

c a d e t b l u e w i t h n a v y b l u e , a n d f i n e c h e c k e d w o o l s w i t h d a r k

v e l v e t o r m o i r e . F o r d e s c r i p t i o n s o f p a t t e r n s o f t h e “ C a m e r ­

o n ” s k i r t a n d t h e b a s q u e s , s e e p a g e 4 4 0 .

A Waistcoat Basque.T h e r e l u c t a n c e o f m a n y w o m e n t o p u t s o m u c h m o n e y

i n t h e r e g u l a t i o n w a i s t c o a t a n d s t i l l h a v e a g a r m e n t t h a t

c o u l d n o t b e w o r n w i t h o u t t h e c o a t , n e c e s s i t a t i n g a b l o u s e

t o w e a r w i t h t h e s k i r t i n t h e h o u s e w h e n c o a t a n d w a i s t c o a t

w e r e d i s c a r d e d , h a s s t i m u l a t e d t h e t a i l o r s t o i n v e n t a n e w

w a i s t c o a t w i t h s l e e v e s a n d b a c k o f t h e s a m e g o o d s a s t h e

f r o n t , w h i c h r e p l a c e s t h e b l o u s e f o r h o u s e - w e a r . I t i s m a d e

o f a n y r i c h s i l k , c o r d e d a n d s h o t , o r w i t h c h e c k e d a n d

b r o c h e e f f e c t s , a n d i s l i n e d w i t h s i l k o r s a t i n . T h e b a c k

i s e x a c t l y l i k e t h e b a c k o f a m a n ’ s w a i s t c o a t , w i t h o u t

s i d e f o r m s , a n d h e l d i n a c r o s s t h e b a c k w i t h s t r a p s

a n d a b u c k l e . ( S e e i l l u s t r a t i o n o f b a c k . )

I f d e s i r e d t o u s e t h i s s i m p l y a s a w a i s t c o a t ,

t h e s l e e v e s c a n b e o m i t t e d a n d t h e b a c k

m a d e o f l i n i n g . T h e p a t t e r n — t h e “ B l a i s -

d e l l ” b a s q u e — i s c o m m e n d e d a l s o f o r a l l

h e a v y c o t t o n o r l i n e n f a b r i c s , t o b e w o r n

w i t h a s k i r t t o m a t c h , a n d i t i s p r e t t y i n

a n y o f t h e l i g h t w o o l e n s . F o r d e s c r i p t i o n

o f p a t t e r n s e e p a g e 4 4 0 .

B l a i s d e l l B a s q u e . (B a c k .)

m o i r e o f a l i g h t e r s h a d e . T h e s k i r t — t h e “ C a m e r o n ” — i s

i l l u s t r a t e d a n d d e s c r i b e d s e p a r a t e l y ; t h e b a s q u e i s t h e “ C o r ­

n e l l . ” I t h a s a F r e n c h b a c k d r a w n s m o o t h l y o v e r a l i n i n g

w i t h t h e u s u a l n u m b e r o f s e a m s ; t h e c u t - a w a y f r o n t s a r e

f i t t e d w i t h o n e d a r t i n e a c h , a n d t h e f u l l v e s t o f m o i r e g i v e s

t h e e f f e c t o f a b l o u s e . T h e b a s q u e i s t h e f a v o r i t e c i r c l e

s h a p e , s l a s h e d a t t h e b a c k . B l a c k c r e p o n c o m b i n e d w i t h

m o i r e w o u l d b e h a n d s o m e m a d e i n t h i s f a s h i o n ; a n d i t i s a

g o o d d e s i g n f o r r e m o d e l l i n g l a s t y e a r ’ s g o w n s .

T h e o t h e r f i g u r e s h o w s a g o w n o f h e l i o t r o p e crepon c o m ­

b i n e d w i t h c l o t h o f a l i g h t e r s h a d e , a n d t r i m m e d w i t h b l a c k

b r a i d . T h e s k i r t i s t h e M e r l i n , ” a f i v e - g o r e d m o d e l , i l l u s ­

t r a t e d a n d d e s c r i b e d i n D e m o r e s t ’ s f o r N o v e m b e r , 1 8 9 3 . T h e

c o r s a g e — t h e “ P r e s t o n ” — f l a r e s s l i g h t l y o v e r t h e h i p s , a n d

s h o w s a w i d e b a c k , a l t h o u g h t h e l i n i n g h a s a l l t h e u s u a l

s e a m s . T h e b e r t h a i s i n c i r c l e s h a p e . A b i a s b a n d o f c l o t h

h e a d e d w i t h b r a i d f i n i s h e s t h e b o t t o m o f t h e s k i r t , a n d t h e

y o k e a n d l o w e r p a r t s o f t h e s l e e v e s a r e a l s o o f t h e c l o t h ,

f u l l i n t h e b a c k , —

m a d e b y t h e " M e r ­

l i n ” p a t t e r n , a f i v e -

g o r e d s k i r t i l l u s ­

t r a t e d a n d d e s c r i b e d

i n t h e N o v e m b e r ,

1 8 9 3 , m a g a z i n e , — i s

l i n e d w i t h g r e e n

s i l k , a n d u n t r i m m e d

e x c e p t f o r t h e f i n i s h

o f a p i p i n g - l i k e f o l d

o f g r e e n s i l k a r o u n d

t h e b o t t o m . T h e

b a s q u e — t h e " R i g a ”

— i s f i t t e d t r i m l y

W i t h t h e u s u a l

s e a m s , a n d i s s l i g h t ­

l y p o i n t e d i n t h e

A Waistcoat Basque. T h e “ B l a i s d e l l . ”

434

DEMOREST'S F A M IL Y M AG AZIN E .435

back, as in fron t; th e fu l l v e s t is o f th e sam e goods as th e rest o f th e basque, and th e revers and cu ffs and edge o f basque are fin ­ished w ith a p ip in g o f green s ilk . F o r description o f pattern see page 440.

J u s t a Little Protec­tion.

T h e r e are days even in summer when a ligh t w rap is needed, and the “ E lto n ” furnishes a m odel v e ry des ir­able fo r this purpose. I t is as convenient as a c irc le to adjust and rem ove, and is dressy and b e c o m i n g ; th e ends are fastened at th e sides. Made in camels’-hair

trim m ed

ga rm en ts , th e sk ir ts o f w h ic h a re ru in e d i f k e p t on in th e h ou se. I t is d o u b le -b rea s ted , fa s te n in g w ith tw o la r g e p ea r l bu tton s, and o p en a t th e th ro a t to s h o w a c h e m i­se tte o f b lu e -a n d -w h ite th rea d -s tr ip ed la w n . T h e b a ck is in th e s t ill p o p u la r " u m b re lla ” s ty le . F o r fu l l d e s c r ip t io n o f th e p a tte rn see p a g e 440.

i n g ; o r it cou ld be m ade o f n et o v e r co lo red s ilk , w ith ruch ings o f net fo r a fin ish . I t is a da in ty , s im p le w ra p , that anyone cou ld m ake easily . T h e pa ttern is described on page 440.

A Spring Traveling-Gown.

G RAY-and-b lue m ix ed c h ev io t is th e fa b r ic o f th is sm art go w n , and th e s im p lic ity o f its lin es com m ends i t fo r a ll th e lig h t sp r in g w o o len s fo r e v e ry d a y w ea r a t h om e o r tra ve lin g . T h e re is n o tr im m in g , a ll th e edges b e in g fin ished w ith ro w s o f s titch in g . T h e sk ir t is th e " M e r ­lin ,” described in D em ores t’s fo r N o vem b e r , 1893. T h e basque— th e “ H u s ta ch e ” — is o f th e p o p u la r len g th w h ich ladies fin d so m u ch m ore con ven ien t than th e v e r y lo n g

Commencement Gowns.W h i t e is o f co u rse th e f ir s t ch o ic e f o r

th ese g o w n s , w h ic h a re o f su p rem e im p o r t­ance to y o u n g g ir ls , c o n n ec ted as th e y a re w ith a v e r y h a p p y e v e n t in th e ir liv e s . T h e econ om is t w h o lo o k s u p o n w h ite as an e x tra v a g a n c e b ecau se n o t su ited to m a n y o th e r occasion s is a d v is e d th a t i f a s o ft w o o l b e ch osen , o r a s im p le la w n o r d o t te d S w iss , i t can b e w o rn a ll su m m er fo r ch u rch and l i t t le v is its .

T h e a sso rtm en t o f ch a rm in g fa b r ic s fo r th ese g o w n s w a s n e v e r so v a r ie d , b u t th e s im ­p le r th e y a re m a d e th e b e tte r . In w o o ls

n o th in g can b e p r e t t ie r th a n c re - p o n s, w h ic h com e in g r e a t v a r i­e ty , c o s t in g fr o m s ix t y c en ts a y a rd u p . T h e sk ir ts o f th e s e m a y b e p e r fe c t ly p la in , o r tr im m e d w ith ro w s o f sa tin o r m o ir e r ib b o n ; a s in g le n a r ro w ru ch e

o r a ru ff le o f r ib ­b o n d i r e c t l y o n th e b o tto m , a n d a ru ch e o f w h it e su ­ra h , cu t b ia s a n d f r a y e d o n t h e ed g es , a re o t h e r s im p le a n d e f fe c ­t iv e t r i m m i n g s . F o r t h e h o m e d re s sm a k e r s in g le s k ir ts a lso a re a d ­v is e d , f o r th e y a re q u ite as m o d ish as d ra p ed o r d o u b le sk ir ts , an d th e l a t ­t e r r e q u ir e s k i l l ­f u l f i n g e r s t o a d ju s t th e m p r o p ­e r ly .

T h e ro u n d b od - i c e s f o r s u c h g o w n s a re s l ig h t ly fu l le d o v e r a f it te d l in in g an d h a v e v e r t ic a l r o w s o f la c e in s e r t io n o r r ib b o n w ith fu l l ru ff le s fa l l in g o v e r th e s le e v e - p u f f s , o r e ls e th e y a re m a d e w ith y o k e s an d h a v e fu l l b e r ­th a s o f la c e o r r ib ­b o n -tr im m ed r u f ­fles . T h e w a is t is g ir d le d w ith r ib ­

bons, ca re less ly fo ld e d , an d t ie d in odd , sq u a rish b o w s in fro n t, at one side, o r in th e b ack , and m a y h a v e lo n g sash- ends o r n o t, a cco rd in g to fa n cy .

A S p r in g T r a v e l in g -G o w n . H u s t a c h e B a s q u e . M e r l i n S k i r t .

436 D E M O R E S T ’ S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .

G o w n s o f mull, lawn, and dotted Swiss, are trimmed with lace-edged r uffle s or frills o f lace and many rows o f insertion. A sheer India lawn has two overlapping, f i v e - i n c h ruffles, edged with narrow V a l e n c i e n n e s , round the bottom, and a second skirt, almost as long as the under one, cut in deep points at the bottom and fin­ished with a ruffle of lace four inches wide . It is l o o p e d slightly almost at the waist, on one side, and fastened w ith rosettes and ends o f ribbon de­pending from the waist.The s l e e v e - p u f f s are banded w ith lace, and finished at the elbow with ruffles. The full bodice— without lining — crosses in front in surplice fashion, and a Marie Antoinette fichu is worn over it. The V at the neck is filled in with a chemisette of lace and tucked lawn.

More girlish are the waists with shirred or tucked yokes opening in the back, and these are specially pretty for dotted Swiss, w h i c h makes useful and be­coming gowns for all summer. There is a fancy for t r i m m i n g these gowns with the

The Latest Skirt.In th is m odish sk irt w e h ave another concession to the

strenu ous e ffo r ts w h ich are b e in g m ade to d r iv e ou r fa vo r ite p la in sk irts from th e stron gh o ld th ey occupy. T h e new m odel— th e “ C am eron ” — has s ix go res and is w ithou t a seam in th e back, w h ere th e fu lln ess is h e ld in tw o fla rin g box-p la its, k ep t in p lace b y tapes across them on th e inside. A tr ia n gu la r g o re is in serted in each fron t and side seam,

a t th e bottom o f th e sk irt, and i f a contrasting m ateria l be used fo r these th e e ffec t is o f another sk irt sh ow in g th rou gh slashes in the ou ter one. Som e sm art b lack gow n s h ave the go res o f b lack m o ire o r o f m ir o ir v e l v e t ; w ith tan-color, b row n o r g reen is e f fe c t iv e ; w ith dark b lue, red o r ligh t b lu e ; and w ith g ra y , n a vy blue, p lum color, or b lack . W ith changeab le fabrics, the m ost becom ­in g co lo r o f th e m ix tu re is th e best choice. F o r descrip tion o f pattern see page 440.

W it h a M o d e s t ly M a s c u lin e A i r . T r o u v i l l e C o a t .

W ith a Modestly Masculine A ir.T h i s ja u n ty coat w ith its s ty lish w a istcoa t is one o f the

fa v o r ite m odels o f th e season fo r a garm en t to w ea r w ith va riou s sk irts, o r to com plete a costum e o f w o o l fo r street or tra v e lin g use. I t is som ew h at sh orter than p rev iou s m odels, has a m od ified “ u m brella ” back, and th e fron ts m ay be se­

cu red w ith a bu tton o v e r th e bust. A b lou se-w a ist or a basque m ay be substitu ted fo r th e w a istcoa t; bu t th e sm art­est su its h ave a w a istcoat w ith fro n t o f s ilk , p ique, o r m ar-

seilles , w ith w h ich is w orn a lin en chem isette and tie. T h e w a istcoa t can be m ade a ll o f th e same m ateria l, as recom ­m ended fo r th e “ B la isdell ” basque, and h ave s leeves added, w hen it cou ld be w orn in th e house w ith ou t th e c o a t ; and th e coat, w ith ou t the w a istcoat, is a good one to use w ith th e “ B la isd e ll." T h e pattern is fu l ly described on page 440.

A Lesson in Millinery.

E v e r y w om an h er o w n m illiner is a condition that ofttim es w o u ld b e v e ry d e s i r a b l e ; bu t there is no reason w h y an y w o ­m an sh ou ld not b e h e r o w n m il­lin er on occasion, fo r exam ple, w h en so sim ple a hat as the one

A L e sso n in M ill in e ry .

O rien ta l y e llo w laces ; and, excep t fo r com m encem ent, w hen it is best to lea ve a ll co lo r to be g iv en b y flow ers , th ey are b righ ten ed and va ried b y h a v in g severa l sets o f ribbons o f d iffe ren t color. Y e l lo w and la ven der are esp ec ia lly e ffe c tiv e , and, at th e m om ent, th e m ost chic. A cco rd ion -p la itin g has lost n o th in g o f its prestige , but, on the con trary, seems even to ga in in fa vo r. D a in ty gow n s o f cotton crep on , m u ll, o r­gan dy, and dotted Sw iss, h ave a ll th e ir fu lln ess pressed in fine p la its ju s t as ch ild ren ’s gow n s h ave been p repared fo r th e shops fo r severa l seasons past.

T h e L a te s t S k irt . T h e “ C a m e r o n .”

DEMORE ST’S F A M IL Y M AG AZINE . 437

illu stra ted is to be trim m ed . W ith th e illu s tra tion s on p a ge 436 and th e fo llo w in g descrip tion th e v e r ie s t am ateu r can acqu it h e rse lf w ith honor, and e v o lv e a s ty lish hat.

T h e hat sh ow n is one o f th e m ost p o p u la r shapes o f th e season. I t is o f fin e b la ck s tra w w ith a fa n cy s tra w edge, and is trim m ed w ith fu l l b ow s o f b lack , sa tin -faced m oire ribbon , je t rin gs , and b la ck ch rysan th em u m s h a v in g y e llo w centers. N o . 3 sh ow s th e u n tr im m ed h at ; N o . 1, th e fron t v ie w o f tr im m ed h a t ; and N o . 2, th e b a ck v ie w , trim m ed, and h o w it sh ou ld b e p la ced on th e head. T w o and th ree qu arter ya rds o f r ib b on th ree and a h a l f in ch es w id e w ill b e requ ired . Cut a p iece o f r ib bon th ir ty in ch es in le n g th ; fo ld it d ow n th e m id d le its en tire len g th , secu re one end at th e back o f th e c row n , b r in g th e r ib b on arou n d the crow n to w a rd th e fro n t , and e ig h t in ch es fr o m th e fa s t ­ened end d ra w th e r ib b on th ro u g h th e r in g to fo rm a lo o p th ree and a h a lf in ch es l o n g ; tw is t th e r ib b on across th e fr o n t o f th e c ro w n fo r a space o f th ree inches, then d ra w it th ro u g h a n o th e r r in g fo r a loop o f th e sam e le n g th as th e p re v io u s one, c a rry the rem a inder o f th e r ib b on a rou n d th e c ro w n and fasten at th e back. F a s ten th e r in gs and lo op s so th e y w il l n ot s lip . T h e je t r in gs can b e d ispensed w ith and a k n o t o f r ib b on su b stitu ted to secu re th e loops , i f p re fe r red .

Cut fo u r p ieces o f rib bon , each ten in ch es lo n g .D oub le each p iece to fo rm a lo o p ; th en la y tw o p la its in th e ends, and a fte r fo rm in g th e p la its d ra w th e ends t ig h t ly to g e th e r and ta ck th em secu rely . P la c e one o f th e lo o p s in an u p r ig h t p o s i­t ion at th e back , ju s t on th e to p o f c ro w n ; one, d ro o p in g to w a rd th e b ack ed ge o f th e b r im , and ta ck th e dou b led ed g e to th e ed g e o f th e b r im ; and th e rem a in in g tw o lo op s p la ce on each s id e o f th e u p ­r igh t lo op , re s t in g th em on th e c ro w n , th u s fo rm in g a sort o f w in d m ill b o w (see illu s tra t io n N o . 2). T o c o v e r th e jo in in g o f th e lo o p s secu re a ch ry sa n th e ­m um about th em to g iv e th e e f fe c t o f a ro se tte .

Cut fro m th e rem a in in g p iece o f r ib b o n fou rteen inches, fo ld o v e r one e d g e o f th e rib bon an in ch its en t ire le n g th , th en b r in g b o th ends to g e th e r a t th e m id d le o f th e len g th , and d ra w c lo se ly to g e th e r to fo rm tw o lo o p s ; c o v e r th e jo in in g w ith a

th e m id d le o f back b en d th e u p tu rn ed e d g e o f the b r i m d o w n on th e b rim , f a s t e n in p l a c e w i t h a c h r y s a n - t h e m u m , and th e tr im m in g o f y o u r h a t is com p le ted .

L in e th e h a t b e ­fo re com m en c in g to t r i m it. T a k e a s tr ip o f l in in g s ilk f iv e in ch es w id e and ab ou t t w e n t y - f o u r i n c h e s l o n g ; sew

1. S t r a w S a i l o r - H a t .

on e e d g e to th e in s id e e d g e o f th e b r im , h o ld in g th e in ­s id e o f th e h a t to w a rd y o u so th e s e w in g m a y b e con-

5. A P ic tu re H a t .

2.

t i g h t k n o t o f

r i b b o n , a n d s e ­

c u r e t h i s b o w

d i r e c t l y i n f r o n t

o f t h e o n e a t

t h e b a c k o f

c r o w n , a s s h o w n i n i l l u s ­

t r a t i o n 1 . T h r e e

a n d a h a l f i n c h ­

e s e a c h s i d e o f

3 . 4 .

Modish H a t s .( S e e P a g e 438.)

c e a l e d ; t h e n h e m t h e o t h e r e d g e o f t h e l i n i n g , a n d i n s e r t a

r i b b o n s o t h a t i t m a y b e d r a w n u p t o f i t t h e c r o w n a f t e r t h e

h a t i s t r i m m e d .

T h i s s h a p e m a y b e h a d i n a l l c o l o r s a n d i n d i f f e r e n t

k i n d s o f s t r a w ; m a n y a r e s h o w n w i t h p l a i n s t r a w c r o w n s

a n d l a c e s t r a w b r i m s , o t h e r s , m i x e d s t r a w c r o w n s w i t h

p l a i n b r i m s , a n d s o f o r t h . A v e r y p r e t t y h a t o f t h i s s h a p e ,

s h o w n a t o n e o f o u r l e a d i n g w h o l e s a l e h o u s e s , i s o f e c r u

c h i p , t h e u p t u r n e d b r i m o v e r l a i d w i t h h e a v y c r e a m l a c e ,

a n d t h e t r i m m i n g e c r u m o i r e r i b b o n a n d p i n k crushed r o s e s .

438 D E M O R E S T ’ S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E .

Modish Hats.( See P a g e 437.)

N o . 1.— W h it e straw sailor-hat, trimmed w ith a band of b lack m oire ribbon, and a bow o f the ribbon and jetted cock’s feather at the le ft side.

N o . 2.— B lack chip hat w ith lo w crown, trimmed w ith b lack lace, green velvet ribbon, and a ful l cluster o f black plum es.

N o . 3.— H at o f open -w ork black straw , w ith brim rolled on both sides and covered on the outside w ith white lace. T rim m ing o f ivory -w h ite m oire ribbon, passed through a rhinestone buck le in front, and m ingling w ith the lace in h igh loops on the le ft s id e ; a large bunch o f violets at the back.

N o . 4 .— Fancy straw hat— brow n and ye llow — with low crow n and m edium b r im ; trim m ing o f green velvet, gold lace butterfly w ings, and jetted cock’s feathers, placed at the left side, the righ t hav in g only a velvet band around the crown.

N o . 5.— Picture hat fo r the carriage and receptions. The w ide brim o f w h ite lace em broidered w ith go ld threads is but ligh tly supported w ith w ires, and surrounds a tiny crown o f go ld and pearl passementerie. B lack feathers and aigrette, a cluster o f m ignonette and loops o f black velvet form the trim m ing, placed fo rw ard o f the crown.

Descriptions of the Designs on the Supplement.W e D o N o t G i v e P a t t e r n s f o r A n y o f t h e D e s i g n s o n t h e S u p ­

p l e m e n t .

T h e designs on ou r Supplem ent are selected from the m ost re liab le fore ign sources, and a lso represent popu lar fash ions here. They furn ish suggestions f o r d raperies, trim m ings, com binations, etc.,—in fact, fo r every detail o f the fash ionab le to ilet,— and the m odels are so practical, and in m any instances d iffe r so little fro m the patterns w e give, that they can easily be m odified, even by the least experienced am ateur, to suit individual needs, and adapted to a ll seasonable fabrics, sim ple as w e ll as expensive ; w h ile fo r professional dressm akers they are in va luable.

1.— W alk ln g -co a t o f b lack kersey, w ith sleeves and revers o f m oire.2.— Chrysoprase serpentine b rooch .3.— G o w n o f s ilv e r g ray crep o n ; stock co lla r and necktie o f white

chiffon.4.— R eception -gow n o f purp le-and-green chine silk w ith oversk irt o f

h e lio trope c rep o n .5.— H o u se -gow n o f satin -striped b lack m o ire ; revers and vest o f white

satin em bro idered w ith paillettes.6.— Scarf-p in set w ith a pearl and diam onds.7.— D iam o n d cluster ring.8.— C om m encem ent-gow n o f w h ite chiffon o ve r In d ia silk.9.—B ridesm aid ’s b roo ch set w ith chrysoprase and pearls.

10.— T a ilo r-go w n o f iron -gray Scotch su it in g ; waistcoat, silver-gray silk w ith b lack polka dots.

11.— T a llo r -g o w n o f covert c lo th ; the jacket has broad coat-tails In the b a c k ; w a istcoat o f brow n -an d -b lack checked silk.

12.— A dressy g o w n o f helio trope jeunesse silk— accordion-plaited—w ith oversk irt o f w ide cream lace.

13.— D in n er and reception g o w n o f changeable m oire— ciel and rose co lor— com bined w ith accord ion -p la ited b lue chiffon. G ird le o f b lack m oire.

14.— V is itin g -gow n o f b lack m oire and jeunesse silk, w ith yoke o f em broid ­ered w h ite chiffon.

15.— G o w n o f b lue duck bra ided elaborate ly w ith a pearl-edged w hite bra id .

16.— E ven in g corsage o f fan cy silk c rep o n , com bined w ith ve lvet and lace.

17.— E ven in g gow n o f w h ite gauze ove r ye llo w silk. The style is com ­m ended fo r a com m encem ent-gow n .

18.— F an cy silk g o w n — g reen and rose co lo r com bined w ith dark green m oire.

19.—H ouse -w a ist o f fan cy silk , w ith g ird le and cuffs o f b lack m oire.20.--C rescen t b rooch set w ith diam onds.21.— B a r chain b ro och w ith be ll pendant.22.— G o ld brooch set w ith pearls and chrysoprase.28.— B lack ve lve t g o w n w ith shou lder trim m ing o f Venetian point.24.— W a lk in g - g o w n o f b lue s e rg e ; plain round skirt finished w ith

stitching.25.— C om m encem ent-gow n o f w h ite silk g ingham trim m ed w ith n arrow

bands o f m oire ribbon . The g lo ves m eet the sleeves at the e lbow .26.—C om m encem en t-gow n o f In d ia m ull w ith insertions and ruffle o f V a len ­

ciennes lace.27.— Pearl-se t brooch .28.— M atron ’s d inner-gow n o f b lack satin com bined w ith heliotrope velvet

and trim m ed w ith b lack lace.29.— Com m encem ent-gow n o f w h ite Jeunesse silk over p lain India silk ;

corsage o f chiffon.90.— H e lio tro p e silk chineed w ith green and go ld ; trim m ed w ith ruchings

o f the silk and w h ite lace.81.— B etro th a l b ro och set w ith diamonds.82.— T a llo r -g o w n o f dark green faced cloth.

Standard Patterns.D escrip tion s o f these P a tte rn s w ill be fo u n d on P a g e 440.P a t t e r n s o f these desirab le m odels b e in g so fr e q u e n tly

ca lled fo r , w e reprodu ce them in m in ia tu re th is m on th in order to b r in g them w ith in th e lim it o f tim e a llo w ed fo r selection . F o r it shou ld be rem em bered th a t one in estim ab le advan tage o f ou r “ P a tte rn O rd e r ” is th a t th e h o ld e r is n ot confined to a selection from th e patterns g iv e n in th e sam e num ber w ith th e “ P a tte rn O rd er,” bu t th e ch oice m ay b e m ade from any num ber o f th e M agazin e issued d u rin g th e tw e lv e m onths p rev iou s to th e date o f th e one con ta in in g th e “ P a tte rn O rder.” A lw a ys rem em ber th a t a “ P a t te r n O rd er ” ca n n o t be used a fte r the date p r in te d on its back.

Misses' Hats.(See Page 441.)

N o . 1.— B lack s traw sa ilor-h at ; c row n banded w ith w h ite r ib b o n ; tw o la rg e rosettes o f b lack ch iffo n in fro n t, w h ich support sprays o f orch id blossom s.

2.— Y o u n g g ir l ’s h a t o f unb leached L e g h o rn tr im m ed w ith a v e ry la rg e b o w o f w id e b lack m o ire rib bon at th e le f t o f the fron t, and a w rea th o f p in k roses arou nd th e crow n .

SUPPLEMENT t o DEMOREST’S FAMILY MAGAZINE f o r MAY, 1894.

Fashion Gleanings from Abroad.(For Descriptions, see Page 438.)

W E DO N O T G IVE P A T T E R N S FOR A N Y OF TH E DESIGNS O N T H IS S U P P L E M E N T .

DEMOREST'S FA M ILY M AGAZINE.

Descriptions of Our Cut Paper Patterns.R E M E M B E R T H A T E A C H “ P A T T E R N O R D E R " E N T IT L E S T H E

H O L D E R T O B U T O N E P A T T E R N .A lw a y s r e f e r to these descriptions before sending yo u r “ Order ” fo r a

Pattern , that you m ay know ju s t the num ber o f Pieces that w ill be in the Pattern received.

F o r G e n e r a l D i r e c t i o n s f o r C u t t i n g a n d J o i n i n g t h e P i e c e s ,SE E T H E B a c k O F T H E E N V E L O P E I N W H IC H T H E P A T T E R N 1S IN C L O S E D .

H u s t a c h e B a s q u e .—H a lf o f the pattern is given In 9 pieces: T w o pieces o f the front, side gore, side form , back, co llar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. The ro w o f holes in the fron t shows where it is to be turned back to form the revers. Gather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. A m edium size w ill require fo u r and a half yards o f goods tw enty-four inches wide. P a t­terns in sizes fo r 84, 36, 38. and 40 inches bust measure.

C o r n e l l B a s q u e .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 15 p ieces: F ront, side gore, side form , and back, o f lin in g ; vest, outer front, revers, outer back, skirt, collar, three pieces o f the sleeve, cuff, and epaulet. G ather the vest top and bottom, fo rw ard o f the holes, and place the back edge to the ro w o f holes dow n the front. L ay the epaulet in three box-plaits on the outside, according to the boles, and place it to the ro w o f holes across the shoulder. Gather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. A medium size w ill require fo u r yards o f goods twenty-four inches w ide, and one yard and a half ad­ditional fo r the vest and epaulets. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

P r e s t o n B a s q u e .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 9 p ieces: F ront, side gore, side form , back, collar, bertha, and three pieces o f the sleeve. P lace the bertha to the ro w o f holes around the top o f the waist. G ather the sleeve-puff at the top, between the holes, and at the bottom , and place the. low er edge to the ro w o f holes across the sleeve. A m edium size w ill require three and a half yards o f goods twenty-four inches wide, and one h a lf yard additional to face the yoke and low er parts o f the sleeves. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

B l a i s d e l l B a s q u e .— H alf o f the pattern is g iven in 9 pieces: T w o pieces o f the front, side gore, back, strap, collar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. The row o f holes in the front shows where it is to be turned back to fo rm the revers. Fasten the straps in the back w ith a buckle. G ather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. A m edium size w ill require three and a half yards o f goods twenty-four inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36,38, and 40 inches D ust m e a s u re .

R i g a B a s q u e .—H alf o f the pattern is given in 10 pieces: F ront, side gore, side form , back, collar, vest, revers, and three pieces o f the sleeve. Gather the vest at the top, forw ard o f the hole ; and at the bottom , and d raw it in as closely as possible. Place the back edge o f the vest and the fron t edge o f the revers to the ro w o f holes dow n the front. G ather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. A medium size w ill require fo u r yards o f goods twenty- fou r inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

T r o u v i l l e C o a t .— H alf o f the pattern is given in 11 p ieces: Front, side gore, back, collar, and tw o pieces o f the sleeve, o f c o a t ; and tw o pieces o f the front, back, strap, and collar, o f the waistcoat. The ro w o f holes in the fron t o f the coat snows where it is to be turned back to form the revers. Gather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. The holes in the collar o f the waistcoat show where it is to be turned over. Fasten the straps in the back with a buckle. A medium size w ill require three yards o f goods forty - eight inches wide fo r the jac k e t ; and one yard and a h alf o f goods twenty- fou r inches wide fo r the waistcoat, if made entirely o f one material. Pat­terns in sizes fo r 34,36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

C a m e r o n S k i r t .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 6 p ieces : F ront, tw o side gores, half o f back, and tw o small gores fo r fron t and sides. F it the darts carefully in the top o f the fron t side-gores, lay a couple o f shallow plaits in the second side-gores, and lay the back in tw o box-plaits on the out­side, according to the holes. Cut the front, side gores, and the fo u r small gores, lengthwise o f the goods dow n the m iddle ; and the back, bias down the middle. A medium size w ill require seven yards o f goods twenty- fou r inches wide. Patterns in tw o sizes, m edium and large.

E l t o n C a p e .— H alf o f the pattern is given in 3 p iece s : Y ok e, cape, and collar. Gather the cape at the top. A medium size w ill require three and a quarter yards o f goods twenty-two inches wide. Patterns in tw o sizes, medium and large.

M i n t a W a i s t .—H alf o f the pattern is given in 10 pieces : F ront, side gore, side form , and back, o f lin in g : fu ll outer fron t and back pieces, collar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. Gather the outer fron t and back pieces at the top, forw ard and back o f the hole in each, respectively, and place them to the ro w o f holes around the waist. Gather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. The size fo r fourteen years w ill require three yards o f goods twenty-four Inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 14 and 16 years.

U r q u h a r t C o a t .—H alf o f the pattern is g iven in 11 p ieces: F ront, side gore, back, collar, and tw o pieces o f the sleeve, o f c o a t ; and tw o pieces o f the front, back, strap, and collar, o f waistcoat. The ro w o f holes in the fron t o f the coat shows where it is to be turned back to fo rm the revers. Gather the sleeve at the top, between the holes. Fasten the straps in the back w ith a buckle. The size fo r fourteen years w ill require fo u r and a half yards o f goods twenty-four Inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 14 and 16 years.

I r m i n e D r e s s .—H alf o f the pattern is given in 14 p ieces: F ront, side gore, side form , and back, o f waist lin in g ; outer fron t and back pieces, collar, bertha, three pieces o f the sleeve, and three pieces o f the skirt. Gather the low er edge o f the outer front and hack pieces, fo rw ard and back o f the hole in each, respectively. Gather the bertha and place it to the ro w o f holes in the upper part o f the waist. Gather the sleeve-puff at. the top, between the holes, and at the bottom, and place the low er edge to the ro w o f holes across the sleeve. Gather the back and side gores o f the skirt, back o f the hole in the gore. The size fo r fourteen years w ill require seven yards o f goods twenty-four inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 12 and 14 years.

T r u r o D r e s s .—H alf o f the pattern is given in 11 p ieces: Front, back, outer front and back pieces, collar, tw o pieces o f bretelle, three pieces o f the sleeve, and skirt. Gather the outer fron t and back pieces top and bottom , forw ard and back o f the holes in each, respectively. P lace the bretelles to the row o f holes across the shoulder, and match the notches at the low er ends with those In the bottom o f the waist. Gather the sleeve-puff at the top, between the holes, and at the bottom, and place the low er edge to the ro w o f holes across the sleeve. The skirt is to be gathered. The size fo r eight years w ill require fou r yards o f goods tw enty-four inches w ide, and one yard o f embroidery. Patterns in sizes fo r 6 and 8 years.

H e n r i t a W a i s t .—H alf o f the pattern Is g iven in 9 p ieces: F ron t,s id e gore, side form , back, bretelle, collar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. The bretelle Is to be gathered between the holes, and the fron t edge is to be placed to the ro w o f holes in the fron t and back pieces. The sleeve is to be gathered at the top, between the holes. A medium size w ill require five yards o f goods twenty-four inches wide, and three quarters o f a yard o f vel­vet. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

S e r p e n t i n e B l o u s e - W a i s t .—H alf o f the pattern is g iven In 4 p ieces; Front, back, two collars, and sleeve. The back is to have a casing fo r a drawstring in a line with the ro w o f holes. The portion be low this is to be worn under the skirt. The large collar is to be laid in a triple box-plait on the shou lder; the back edge is to be joined in the back Beam. The small collar is to be cut double and w ithout a seam at the upper edge, and is to be laid in a triple box-plait in the m iddle o f the back. T he sleeve is to be gath ­ered at the top, between the holes. T o adjust the waist, tie the drawstring in front, under the fronts, then cross the fronts and tie the ends at the back. Cut the fronts lengthwise on the front edges. A m edium size w ill require five and a half yards o f goods twenty-four inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36,38, and 40 inches bust measure.

N e w p o r t B l a z e r . — H alf o f the pattern is given in 9 pieces: F ront, side gore side form , back, cape-collar, collar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. The

holes in the fron t show w here i t is to be turned back to fo rm the revers. The cape-collar is to be laid In a double box-plait in the m iddle o f the back The puff f o r the sleeve is to be gathered top and bottom , betw een the holes, and the low er edge is to be placed to the ro w o f holes across the sleeve. A medium size w ill require tw o and a ha lf yards o f goods fo rty -e igh t Inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust m easure.

B o x Co a t .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 6 p ie ce s : F ron t, back, co llar two sides o f the sleeve, and cuff. The ro w o f holes in the fro n t sh ow s w h ere it is to be turned back fo r the revers. The ro w o f holes in the back sh ow s where it m ay be fitted w ith a seam, i f preferred . Cut w hole dow n the backif a seam is not desired. The sleeve is to be gathered at the top, betw een the holes. A m edium size w ill require three and a quarter yards o f goods fo rty -fou r inches wide, or tw o and three-quarter yards o f fifty -fou r inches wide. Patterns in sizes fo r 84, 86, 88, and 40 inches bust m easure.

Z a d e l J a c k e t .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 10 p ie ce s : F ron t, side gore , side form , back, band fo r neck, collar, pocket, flow in g sleeve, and tw o sides o f coat-sleeve. The sleeves are to be gathered betw een the boles at the top A m edium size w ill require tw o yards o f go o d s fo rty -e igh t inches w ide , and three-quarters o f a yard extra fo r the flow in g sleeves. Patterns in sizes fo r 34, 36, 38, and 40 inches bust measure.

A v i l a M o r n in g - D r e s s .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 9 p ie ce s : L in in g fo r front, outer front, side form , lin ing fo r back, ou ter back, co llar, and three pieces o f the sleeve. The opposite notches at the top and bottom o f the fron t designate the m iddle, and show h ow fa r it is to be lapped. T h e outer back is to be shirred at the top above the ro w o f holes, and shou ld be draw n sm oothly from the side fo rm and tacked to the lin ing at o r near the back Beam, to g ive the effect illustrated. Th is fu lness m ay be laid in a doub le box-plait on the outside, i f preferred. The sleeve is to be gathered at the top, betw een the holes. A m edium size w ill requ ire thirteen yards o f goods tw enty-four inches w ide. Patterns in sizes f o r 84, 86, 88, and 40 inches bust measure.

B r ig h t o n D re s s .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 7 p ieces : F ro n t and back of blouse, chemisette, co llar, tw o p ieces o f the sleeve, and one h a lf o f the skirt. The chemisette is to be laid on the fron t so that the holes w ill m atch The fron t o f the co llar is to be p laced to the ro w o f holes in the chem isette. The bottom o f the blouse is to be hemmed, and a tape o r elastic run th rough the hem to d raw the b louse in to the proper size. T he sleeve is to be gath ­ered top and bottom , between the holes. The sk irt is to be laid in box -p la i ts. according to the holes. The size fo r six years w ill requ ire five yards o f goods tw enty-four Inches. Patterns In sizes fo r 6 and 8 years.

M i m i e D r e s s .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 10 pieces : F ron t, back. sleeve, and co llar o f g u im p e ; and fron t, side fo rm , back , b rete lle , s leeve ,

and one-quarter of the skirt, fo r the dress. The gu im pe is to be gathered at the neck, fo rw a rd and back o f the hole in the fro n t and back, respective ly , and to have a draw -string at the waist line. The sleeve is to be gathered top and bottom , between the holes, and the lo w e r part sew ed to a band o f the

proper size.The bretelle is to be placed on the w aist so that the holes w illmatch. The sk irt is to be gathered at the top. T h e size f o r fo u r years w ill require two and th ree-quarter yards o f goods tw en ty -fou r inches w ide , fo r the dress, and one yard for the guim pe. Patterns in sizes fo r 2 and 4 years.

Manrico Su i t .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 8 p ie ce s : F ron t, back, p ie c e s o f th e sl eeve o f b louse ; and fro n t and back o f

one leg o f trousers. The vest is to be placed under the fron t so that theThe blouse is to be hem m ed at the bottom , and a tape o r

elastic run in the hem to d raw the blouse in to the requ ired size. T h e size years w ill require three yards o f m ateria l tw en ty -fou r inches w ide

and three-quarters of a yard additional f o r the co lla r and vest. P a tterns in sizes for 6 and 8 years.H i l a r io S u i t .—H a lf o f the pattern Is g iven in 11 p ieces : F ron t, back

collar, sleeve and cuff, o f b lo u s e ; fron t, back, and tw o sides o f the sleeve o f ja c k e t ; and fron t and back o f one le g o f trousers. The b louse is to be hemmed at the bottom , and a tape o r elastic run in the hem to d ra w the blouse in to the desired size ; o r it m ay be finished w ith a n a rro w b in d ing o f the proper size. The sleeve fo r the blouse is to be gathered top and bottom between the holes. The holes in the fro n t o f the jacket sh ow w h ere it is to be turned back to fo rm the revers. The size f o r six years w ill requ ire one yard and a h a lf o f good s tw enty -fou r inches w ide to m ake the jacket and trousers and two yards and a quarter fo r the b louse. Patterns in sizes f o r 4 and 6 years.

R ic a r d o Su i t .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 12 p ieces: F ron t, back and tw o pieces o f the sleeve o f ja c k e t ; front, back, collar, sleeve, and cuff o f blouse ; front, and back o f un derw a ist; and one h a lf o f the sk irt T h e skirt is to be laid, according to the holes near the top, in kilt-plaits a ll turned one way. The blouse is to be hemmed at the bottom , and a tape o r elastic run through the hem to d raw the blouse into the size o f the un derw aist o r it m ay have a n arrow binding o f the requ ired size. T he blouse sleeve is to be gathered top and bottom , between the holes. The holes in the fro n t o f the jacket show where it is to be turned back to fo rm the revers. T h e size f o r fo u r years w ill require three yards o f goods tw en ty -fou r inches w ide f o r the skirt and jacket, and tw o yards and a quarter fo r the blouse. Patterns in sizes f o r 2 and 4 years.

Se f t o n B lo u s e .— H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 8 p ie ce s : F ro n t back collar, chemisette, belt, cuff, and tw o sides o f the sleeve. Lay the fro n t and back in plaits, as indicated by the holes turned to w ard the m idd le o f the fron t and back, respectively. The chemisette is to be p laced un der the fron t so that the holes w ill match. The size f o r six years w ill requ ire five yards o f goods tw enty-four inches w ide, and one yard and one-ha lf addition ­al fo r the collar, cuffs, and belt. Patterns in sizes fo r 4 and 6 years

R u t h A p r o n .—H a lf o f the pattern is g iven in 2 p ie ce s : A p ro n and shoulder strap. The fron t is to be shirred b y three ro w s o f gathers at the neck and w aist line, and draw n in to fit, n arrow straps be in g p laced on the inside to hold the shirring. The size fo r s ix years w ill requ ire one yard and three-quarters o f goods tw enty-four inches w ide, and six yards o f trim m ing fo r one plain row . Patterns in sizes fo r 6, 8, and 10 years.

A Remarkable Portrait Album.(See Page 394.)

I t costs too m uch tim e, trou b le , and m on ey to g a th e r th e

p ictu res fo r o rd in ary pu b lish ers to u n d ertake such an en te r­

prise as our P o r t r a i t A l b u m . E ve n th e e x p en s iv e E n c y ­

clopaedias o f B iog ra p h y do n ot a ttem p t to g iv e a u n ifo rm

series o f portra its, bu t p resen t a m ed ley o f la rg e and sm a ll

p ictures, som e steel en grav in gs , som e w oodcu ts, and a f e w

reproductions from ph otographs. O u r p ic tu res (see th e

pages betw een 394 and 395), are sp ec ia lly m ade fo r th e P o r ­

tra it A lbu m , a ll o f th e sam e size, and a ll th e sam e k in d ,

exqu is ite h a lf-ton es fro m su perb p h o tog rap h s , m a k in g a

fa ir com parison o f faces and fea tu res a s im p le m atter.

D E M O R E S T ’ S F A M I L Y M A G A Z I N E . 441

For Summer Days.F o r any o f the p re tty prints, g in g ­

hams, and th e host o f lo v e ly cotton fab rics that ch ildren m ay be dressed

in , th is is a v e r y d e s i r a b l e m o d e l; it is also good fo r w o o l­ens and silks, and a com bina­tion o f m ateria ls adds to its e f ­fec tiveness. A ll-o v e r em bro id ­e ry o r lace cou ld be used w ith a ll but th e h eav iest

fabrics, and these are a lw ays p re tty and b e c o m i n g T h e d e s ig n is exceed in g­ly s i m p l e , bu t it cou ld

A School-Gown.T h i s charm in g ly simple

g o w n fo r a y o u n g g irl is com m ended fo r a ll light- w e igh t w oo len s and cotton fabrics. A s illustrated o f p in k -an d -b lack c o tton

For Summer D ays. T r u r o D r e s s .

be m ade s t ill p la in e r b y th e om iss ion o f th e bre- te l les an d th e p u ffs on th e s lee ves . T h e p a t­te rn — th e " T ru ro ” dress — is d escrib ed on page 440.

2. Leghorn Hat. (See Page 438.)

1 . M is s ’ s S a i lo r H a t .{See Page 438.)

c r ep o n . T h e s k i r t is s lig h tly go red , and fin ish ed w ith a sim ­p le h em ; th e corsage is fu lled bo th back and fro n t o v e r a fitted lin in g , and th e b erth a surrounds th e shou lders. A f t e r n o o n go w n s o f ch a llie and In d ia s ilk

w ou ld be v e r y p re tty m ade b y th is m odel, and cou ld b e ren dered qu ite d ressy w ith tr im m in g o f ribbon and lace. F o r descrip tion o f p a t t e r n -—th e “ Irm in e " — see p age 440.

A Young Girl’ sFancy W aist A. Young Girl’s Fancy Waist.A CHARM INGLY you th - T he “ M in t a .”

fu l b lou se o f pa le b lu ec r ep e and Ir is h gu ip u re . T h e fro n t and back a re a l ik e ; th e fu l l s k ir t is cu t on, n ot added, and a b e lt o f th e c r ep e o r ribbon g ird le s th e w a is t and h o ld s th e fu lln ess in to th e fit ted lin in g w h ich is g iv e n w ith th e pa ttern . A cco rd in g to th e fab rics em p loy ed th e ga rm en t m ay b e d ressy o r p la in , and th e pa ttern is v e r y su itab le fo r g in gh am s, law ns, o r m u lls. F o r d escrip ­tion o f p a tte rn — th e " M in ta ” b lou se-w a ist— see page 440.

An Up- to-Date Costume.F o r conven ience , com fort, and becom ingness, th is is one o f

th e b es t des ign s o f th e season. T h e sk irt— th e " T a d e lfo rd ” — is a fiv e -g o red m odel firs t illu stra ted and described in Dem - o re s t ’s fo r June, 1893. T h e coat— th e “ U rq u h a r t ” — has th e fa v o r ite “ u m b re lla " back, and th e fron ts are cu t so th ey m ay be bu tton ed at th e bust, i f desired . T h e w a istcoa t is e n t ire ly separa te fro m th e coat, and a b lou se-w a ist o r basque m a y b e su bstitu ted fo r it w hen desirable. T h e m odel is es­p e c ia lly des irab le fo r w oo len s, and w ill be m ost e ffe c t iv e w ith th e w a is tcoa t o f a con tras tin g m ateria l. T h e illu s tra tion rep re ­sen ts d a rk b lu e serge w ith w a istcoat o f dark red corded silk sh ot w ith w h ite . H a t o f b lu e s traw trim m ed w ith b lu e v e lv e t and red a ig re tte s . F o r descrip tion o f the coat pattern see p a g e 440.

An U p -to -D ate Costume U r q u h a r t C o a t .

T a d e l f o r d S k i r t .

T h e r e is a g rea t re v iv a l o f neck bow s.T h e p rettiest and m ost becom in g are o f p la ited ch iffo n , o ften held b y a lo n g R h inestone buck le , and ex ten d in g in A S c h o o l - G o w n . a flu ffy mass both sides o f th e chin. I r m i n e D r e s s .

4 4 2 DEMOREST’S FA M ILY M AGAZINE.

A Strange Anomaly.B Y W . J E N N I N G S D E M O R E S T .

T h e right o f protection is am on g th e m ost s ign ifican t and im portant claims th e p eop le h ave on th e govern m en t. W ith ­ou t the benefit o f pro tection , to ou r liv e s , h ea lth , and p rop e rty , w ith o u t assu rance o f a gu a rd in g care b y those in a u th o rity , so c ie ty w ou ld be a ch aotic con fu s ion o f con flic t­in g passions and v ic iou s anarchy.

P ro te c tio n th e re fo re becom es an essentia l e lem en t o f ou r c iv iliza tio n , bo th fo r th e m ain tenance o f ou r persona l lib e r ty and th e secu r ity o f o u r m a ter ia l in terests , dom estic tra n q u il­l i t y and ju d ic ia l s ecu r ity o f a ll th e r ig h ts th a t perta in to ou r com m on h u m an ity b e in g th e basis o f h om e co m fo rt and th e sa fegu ard o f a ll o u r re la tion s to soc iety .

L a w can h a v e no co n tro v e rs y w ith a ju s t and p eace fu l en jo ym en t o f p erson a l lib e r ty . P ro te c t io n is n ot o n ly an in d ispen sab le ad ju n ct o f c iv iliza tio n , hom e, and happiness, bu t w ith o u t p ro tec tio n so c ie ty cou ld n ot ex is t. I f n o t p ro ­te c ted b y la w fu l a u th o rity , o u r c ities w o u ld becom e h o w l­in g bed lam s.

T h e p erson a l debasem en t, an arch ica l tendencies, p o lit ica l k n a ve ry , d eb au ch ery o f conscience, and th e p u b lic and p r i­v a te o u trages in th e com m u n ity th a t a re con s tan tly a r is in g fr o m th e use o f a lcoh o lic b eve ra ges , m ak e th e dem and fo r p ro tec tio n fr o m th is in s id iou s and dan gerou s po ison o f a lco h o l on e o f im p e ra t iv e n ecess ity . A n in d ica tion o f w h a t te r r ib le d es tru ction fo llo w s th e use o f a lco h o lic b ev e ra ge s can b e seen in th e occasion a l ou tb reaks th a t occu r u n der th e in s tiga tion o f a fr e e use o f a lco h o lic b e v e ra g e s in an y p u b lic a ssem b lage. B u t its m ost d isastrou s resu lts a re fou n d in o u r h om es, in th e w re c k o f in d iv id u a l ch aracter.

I f th is p o iso n o f a lco h o l is so d e tr im en ta l to th e b es t in te r ­ests o f so c ie ty , w h a t m u st b e said, w h a t can be said, o f such d ia b o lica l, such w il l fu l, d is rega rd o f th e h ea lth , liv e s , and p ro p e r ty o f th e com m u n ity , as w i l l to le ra te , yes , e ven en ­co u ra ge , th is m ost a l lu r in g ly e ffe c t iv e m ean s to a w a k en th e v ic io u s passion s o f m en , in s t ig a t in g th em to p e rp e tra te th e m ost ou trageou s crim es and b ea s tly ou trages u pon h elp less v ic t im s ,— w h ich , i f p ossib le , does w o rse th an th is in m a k in g dem on s o f e v e n w om en and ch ild ren , in c it in g th em to com ­m it th e m ost d a m a g in g crim es, w ith o u t a consciou s k n o w l­ed g e o f th e in ju r y p rodu ced o r th e en o rm ity o f th e ir acts?

B u t w h a t o f such a rran t h y p o c r is y as th e ju s t ific a t io n and en cou ragem en t o f th ese a troc iou s crim es b y th ose w h o a ttem p t to screen th em se lv es b eh in d a p reten se o f " non- p a r t is a n ” o r “ g o s p e l” trea tm en t o f th is in fam ou s cr im in a l­ity , o r th ose w h o b ecom e so delu ded in th e ir b lin dn ess th a t ev e n in th e ir re lig io u s cerem on ies th e y c la im to use these in to x ica tin g , a llu r in g b ev e ra ge s as in c item en ts to h o lin ess in l i fe , lo v e to G od , and p u r ity o f ch a rac ter? T h is is n o th in g sh ort o f b la sp h em y !

A n d w h a t abou t th e a ttitu d e o f th ose w h o k n o w th e n atu re o f a lco h o lic po isons and th e te r r ib le resu lts o f th e ir use, and y e t do n o t use th e m ost e ffe c t iv e m eans to p roh ib it th is d an gerou s cu rse o f l iq u o r s e llin g , bu t stand w ith fo ld ed hands, u s in g la z y p la titu d es o f “ tem p e ra n c e ” and “ m odera ­tion , t r y in g to w a rd o f f th e sh a fts o f tru th and s tifle th e v o ic e o f c o n v ic tion b y p reten ses o f fr ie n d ly e ffo r ts to p ro ­m ote re lig io n and s o b r ie ty ? A n d , w orse than th is , th rou gh th e ir d egen era ted conscience illu s tra ted in th e ir vo tes , th e y fo r t i fy and g i v e th e best poss ib le le g a l en cou ragem en t fo r th e use and p e rp e tu ity o f th is in fam ou s liqu or-bu siness.

I t is on e o f th e m a rve ls o f m odern d e p ra v ity th a t th e p eop le in th e ir s o v e re ign ca p a c ity as vo ters sh ou ld so d eg rade th e ir m a n h ood as to b e o b liv io u s to b o th m o ra l and p o lit i­ca l o b liga tion s , and p ro s titu te th e ir s o ve re ign p o w e r o f p ro ­te c tio n to th ro w arou nd th is dem on o f se lfish cru e lty , th e

liq u o r tra ffic , a ga rb o f le g a l re sp ec ta b ility , u s in g th e fo rm s o f la w to su b ve rt th e v e r y o b jec t o f la w ,— sh ou ld e ven p ro ­v id e fo r th e ir feasts th ese in c it in g b e v e ra g e s w ith th e ir crim in a l tendencies, and use th is po ison as a re lig io u s em b lem o f good w il l and persona l v ir tu e , e v e n p e r v e r t in g and q u o t­in g S crip tu re to ju s t i fy th is frau d and in ju ry .

T h e use o f th is a lcoh o lic po ison and th is m o ra l in sen s ib ility to its e ffec ts a re a w fu l re flec tion s on ou r h u m an fr a ilty , and are am ong th e m ost u naccoun tab le en igm as o f ou r tim es. I t w ou ld seem th a t th e m ost dem on iaca l in flu en ces had taken possession o f th e p eo p le ’s m inds, th a t th e ir consciences h ad becom e so b lin ded and benum bed w ith v ic io u s ten den cies and so d egraded w ith v ic io u s in du lgen ces th a t th ey h ad becom e in sen sib le to a ll th e cla im s o f re lig io n , th e dem ands o f v ir tu e , and even th e ir o w n person a l h app iness, irresp ec­t iv e o f th e w e ll b e in g o f soc iety .

V o te rs m ay w e ll ask th e qu estion s : H o w can w e a ton e fo r th e te rr ib le resu lts o f ou r d e lin q u en cy o r ou r w ick ed rem iss­ness on th is g rea t qu estion in th e past? H o w m uch m isery and w retch edn ess cou ld h a ve been a ve rted b y a p ro p e r use o f ou r m ora l in flu ence and p o lit ic a l o p p o rtu n itie s? H o w m an y w iv e s and ch ild ren h a ve su ffe red and d ied , and w h a t te rr ib le crim es h a ve been in s tiga ted by th is dem on o f in to x i­ca tin g d rin k , and w h o are th e pa rties resp on s ib le fo r th ese le g a liz ed a llu rem en ts to crim e and m ise ry ?

T h e re is bu t one answ er : T h e v o te r w h ose b a llo t sanctions in th e m ost e ffe c t iv e w a y and th ro w s arou nd th is a w f u l curse a ll th e sa fegu ards o f la w and p ro tection . T h e le g a li­za tion o f th e liq u o r tra ffic is a p ervers ion o f th e ob jec ts o f la w , or, ra th er, a m ora l d ep ra v ity th a t ch a llen ges th e w o r ld fo r its en orm ity ; and w h o can w on d er th a t w e a re h a v in g ou r fin ancia l in terests so p a ra ly zed w ith u n certa in ty , ou r com m ercia l in du stries depressed w ith id leness, and th a t e v e ry b ran ch o f trade is in a sta te o f despondency, w h en th e resources o f th e peop le are so la rg e ly used and exh au sted byth e v ic io u s in du lgen ce o f an a llu rin g , d e te r io ra tin g po ison ,__a po ison th a t reduces th e ir am b ition , th e ir m ora l s tren g th and th e ir p h y s ic a l s tren gth , to th e lo w e s t lim it o f hum an endurance.

A re vo lu tio n is in ev itab le . P ro te c tio n is dem anded b y e v e ry in stin ct o f ou r n atu re and e v e ry in te res t o f soc ie ty . W h a t w e w an t and m ust h a ve is G overn m en t P ro te c t io n fro m th a t m on ster enem y, a lcoh o lic po ison in g.

The Most Effective Missionary Enterprise.T h e C o n s t it u t io n , an eight-page m onthly paper, go t up in

good style, w ith logical and convincing argum ents on the neces­sity fo r lega l prohibition o f the liquor traffic.

Ten copies yearly fo r six cents, or one hundred copies fo r five cents each. Single subscriptions, ten cents.

W e th ink that we do not venture too much in assuming that w hole neighborhoods can be aroused and revo lu tion ized by the generous introduction o f T h e C o n s t itu t io n . There n ever was o ffered such a splendid chance to do good w ith so lit t le e ffo r t or so lit t le expense.

F iv e cents fo r each yearly subscription when 100 are sent in at one tim e, or s ix cents each when ten are sent. E verybody w ill respond to an invitation to subscribe at th is rate. -

W h o w ou ld not be a m issionary fo r the go o d o f this country w hen so much can be done w ith so little effort and w ith so much personal gratification ?

Friends o f hum anity,— especially friends o f the p roh ib ition o f the great curse o f the country, the liqu or tra ffic ,— do not fa il to send a club o f subscribers fo r this m onth ly m on itor fo r P roh ib i­tion . G et this ob liga tion fo r do ing go o d fix ed on you r m ind and conscience. Conclude in this w ay to reach every fa m ily in you r neighborhood, and ge t up such a b laze o f enthusiastic in d ig - nation against the terrib le curse that w e shall find the whole com munity aroused to action . W e are qu ite sure no o th er m ethod w ill be so cheap or e ffec tive as the m onthly p resen tation o f such logica l and in teresting argum ents on this question as w e propose to g ive in T h e C o n s t itu t io n .

Address.W . J en n in gs D e m o re s t ,

N o 10 East 14th S treet,N e w Y o rk .