HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Exeter Advocate, 1895-6-28, Page 3OWN' THRO' THE RYE.
BY HELEN B. HATHER,S.
(CONTINUED.)
"Are you loyal?" I ask, looking up at
Paul Vasher; "I hope so, for I could never
like you if you won not. Sonte people
say rude things abont royalty theysthink
it sounds grand, but 1 think it is simply
very bad taste."
"Shall you think I am disrespectful if I
say that in my opinion kings and queens
are not so good-looking, as every -day peo-
ple?" he asks.
"No, for that is often true. For in-
stance,'I say,looking across at Silvia and
her lover, "where would you see suoit a
pair as that?"
He does not wince in the very least as
his eye falls upon them, and yet he is
going to stay on here for her sake.
"So that is the couple forwhom you are
kindly going to act the pal t of gooseberry?"
he asks,with a smile. "I thought you said
you were going to play it for me?"
"So I was, "I say, turning very red, but
still looking him well in the face; "it was
you I meant,"
"And the lady?"
"Look at this photograph, "I say, quick-
ly ; "is It not pretty?" In my hurry I have
laid my finger down on a fat baby taken
a la flg-leaf, so precipitately shift it and
indicate a couple of Luttrell lovers, who
look even more foolish than they feel.
"Very," says Mr. Vasher, with emphasis.
"But where is the gooseberry?"
"I wonder," I say, raising my voice a
little, that I may talk my color down,
tsvhst plain. people, hay,. thein.,photegraphs
taken do "much oftener than handsome
ones? It is such a rare thing to findpretty
face in an album! Do you think those
people know how ugly they are?"
We are looking at a man whose oyes
already well rolled by nature have el,'
dentiy acquired a distinct and superero-
gatory roll by long practice; he looks as if
a smart rap on the back of his head would
send them into his lap.
"No," says Paul, "for the plaineit peo-
ple always think themseives the hand-
somest. Have you ever had yours taken?"
"Once, at Pimpernel; it was a horrid
experience, and I never wish to have an-
other like it."
"What did he do?" asks Paul. "Did
he, like the little fat photographer in
Punch, say, 'Look at me, miss, and don't
smile?"
"No, but he did worse; he wished me
to smile, but he would not let me do it
my own way—he regulated it. When I
had got up a moderate grinthe would say,
'A little more, miss!' but on trying o
oblige him, I showed a little of my teeth
which was strictly forbidden.
"I am afraid the -Pimpernel process is
a long one," says Paul, laughing.
While he puts the book back, I glance
around me. The mon look arniable and
oheerful in the extreme, as all mankind
has a mayof doing ;atter dinner; one Or.,
two of them sentimental, tears will stand
in their eyes by and by, if a plaintive bal-
lad is sung. it is not an ennobling rellec-
' tion that the best of men is better after a
good dinner than he was before; and that
the hottest love]; can be made hotter still
by a choice vintage. Miss Lister is going
to sing; she spreads out her green silk
skirts, and takes off her bracelet, and
clears her throat. Do the birds make any
preparation before bursting out into a
rush of exquisite song? She sings""
and Jack's ridiculous verse comes into
my mind as I listen:
"Only a face at the window
Only a face, nothing more;
If ever it owned any legs,
They must have 'Walked out at the
door."
Some songs move me, but this one
never does. e mo "When Sparrows
build," with the yearning cry of the girl's
broken heart wailing through it,and "the
faded bent o'er head." Alice sits down
and plays glorious "Tam 0' Shanter."
How the rollicking, dare -devil, spirited
notes ring oat! How we seem to see the
hot pursuit, feel the witch fingers creep-
ing nearer and nearer to the terrified gal-
loping horse! An hour slips away.
been a charming evening.
"Good -night !" says Paul Vasher, stand-
ing before me; "we are banished to
billiards. Are you going to begin your
duties as gooseberry to -morrow morn-
ing?"
CHAPTER V.
It is half past eleven o'clock, and we are
all in church (save Pane and Captain Oli-
ver), confessing ourselves to be miserable
sinners, although in our secret souls we
think ourselves nothing of the sort.
And now we are all standing up, able
to take our fill of staring at the well -
washed, well -greased congregation, who
are singing, "Jerusalem the golden" with
all the strength of their bucolic hearts and
voices.
I wish they hada few H's among them,
these good and bad people! They let them
all go so recklessly, but with the univer-
sal law of compensation put them in
again in the wrong place. How loud and
clear presently sounds their "Incline our
6arts to keep this law!"
The rector is very like Mr. Skipworth in
appearance, voice, and manner. For an
hour we sit under him and listen to his
discursive ramblings, whioh, so far as 1
can make out, are about .Teremiah in the
briers, though what on eartn he did there
or how he got into such an uncomfortable
• pofiltioa, we are, trot told.' ',Catikisiiiits a
doves man say all he has to say to his con-
gregation pithily and well in twenty min-
utes?
And now we are but again,and walking
across the church -yard; and the sun flick-
ers down gayly on the living who walk
ereetand on the green shield of earth that
lies heavy on the breast of those Who have
'fought their fight with the pale warrior,"
and been vanquished.as all have been and
must be. At the gate the carriages are
waiting, for Luttrell 'G'ourt is more than
two miles away, and I find myself seated
next to Mr Vasher,and opposite Milly and
•
Mrs. Lister.
"How well you behaved in church!"
says Paul; "you tweet, smiled once, not
even when that fat lady tried to pass the
fat man in the narrow pew, and they got
wedged together I"
"Did I not?' I say, laughing. "I could
not help thinking of a rhyme in one of
the nursery -books at home;
'There was a young lady of YarroW,
Who went up to church in a bat -Dales
She said with a smile,
sAs she stuck in the aisle,
They build these her churches too nar-
row.'"
"The lady in church Must have been a
Airect descendant of the one at Yarrow,"
saya Paul, looking at me.
I impe he is not observing the crushed
and forlorn appearance of my bonnet; in
ititure I will, at all risks,carry a banal -Jaz,
airy Ureetion is quite :guiltless.
Mre. Lister looks as, print .and Un ipproach.
aisle as though she were made of linekram.
Her lips are pursed up very tight; she
, grasps her prayer -book as though It were
a pistol, and a together she is not a plea-
sant object to contemplate.
" There is Fen° 1" says Milly, suddenly
as we roll sinoothly along under the she
dow of the giant trees that line the park
and there, sure enough in the distance
saeahily dotiglug, behind a tree, and leek
' tog Very- hot, dirty, and. Maned of him
Self, $ her missing lord and master.
Did I ever say that Fano is only a few
years older than Milly, and that they are
a very young couple indeed? Every Sun-
day morning, regularly as clockwork, does
Milly make Fano dress to go to church
with her, and every Sunday morning, at
the very last moment, does he succeed in
masking his escape, and she has to go with-
out him. Milly gets out of the carriage
and majestically walks aoross the grass to
I Who e they lie perdu (where could she
have learned that dignided swagger?
should like to sou her try it on with the
governor), and we all follow.
IFane and his companion, thus run to
earth, emerge and present their disreput-
able persons to onr gaze. Their light
summer suits are all patched and stained
with green, as though they had been roll-
ing on the grass. The captain's face is
soratehed, and so is Fane'e hand. Half a
dozen dogs are tearing round and round
a tree,at the top of which a piteous miaul !
suffieiently expaans the nature of these
gentlemen's Sunday amusements.
"I am disgusted with you Fane," says
Milly; "and as to you, Captain Oliver, I
am surprised at you."
And she sails away with her lord, leav-
ingscautainGlivensfitterly„-squathget g He
does not know that it is Milly's habit to
visit all her husband's misdeeds upon his
friends, and that nothing will ever make
her believe that they do not lead him into
every scrape—not he them.
"Poor Oliver?!" says Pant as we walk
away, leaving that abased warrior to the
tender mercies of yrs. Lister. Very ten-
der they will be, too, as she wants him for
a son-in-law. "How crestfallen he does
look, to be sure! And he is considered to
have more brass than any other man in
his regiment."
"He is quickly routed, then; hut it is
impossible for a man to be rude to a lady,
is it not?"
"Quite."
"Aro fathers generally polite to their
families?"
"If they are gentlemen."
"Oh!"
"I want to know," says Mr. Vasher,
looking down on my tumbled bonnet,
what am I to call you. I won't call you
Miss Adair; I don't like Helen May I
call you Nelt "
"Oh, no. What would Sfilly say? Be-
sides, 1 was young when you used to call
me that; I am grown up now."
• "And no longer Young?"
"Oh, yes; pretty well. When we have
known each other a little longer,you know
1
"Yes, we shall be near neighbors," he
says, with quite a sudden gladness in his
voice; "we shall have plenty' of time for
getting to know each other better."
"1 do not improve on cquaintanoe,"
I say, smiling. "Oh, you will find me out
to be such a little wretch! If you saw me
In a rage once you would not forget it."
"Who puts you out?"
"Dorley, or Bashan, or—or—a' other
person."
"And supposing I do?"
"You will be frightened."
"I am not afraid," he says, looking deep
into my laughing face with his big brown,
brown eyes, that are self-willed, and
strong, and tender at one and the same
time. "Did any one ever keep you in
order, Nell?"
" Never r ' I say, proudly.
And I smile to myself as I think of my
lover and bond -slave George,who never
swayed, and never could sway me in will,
or mind, or heart. No, certainly, I have
never been managed by anybody yet.
"Women ought not to have their own
way," says Mr. Vasher. "After a while
they go in for Wonien's Rights asd last
it comes to the husbands standing on the
platform and holding the baby, while they
hold forth upon everythingdmheaven and
earth."
"I don't think those sort of people ever
have anything so frivolous as a baby," I
say, considering. "Tenzing of babies, do
you know that you will see two at lunch-
eon to -day? They are coming down for
certain."
"Horrible !" he says, shuddering. If
there is one sight more appetizing, clean,
and savory than another, itis a baby at a
table,"
"Take care the mothers do not hear
you," I say, as we enter the house, "they
would never speak to you again."
"We have taken off our bonnets and
pulled out our locks, have powdered our
hot fires as our habits or inclinations
will, and we are sitting, one and all, in
the cool dining -room, eating cold lamb
and sa se.
"I saw a man in church who was even
smaller than lain," says Lord St.John to
me, "and Iwas so pleased. Not but that
I always console myself with a couplet
that I saw somewhere once; it began:
" 'Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.' "
chokes in the distance announce the �4.
von of the oilve-branollee,
The door opens and enter two nurses
bearing aloft a small Lovelace and a email
Luttrell, who are deposited by the same on
their mothers' laps. Milly's baby is very
young yet, end has that peouliar decrepit
, look that et. i.serne youth and age seem to
share equulty. Be is too small to be
;
troublesome' and is flat on his back, star-
lug about him and teking a meal off his
"'fancy that applies to things, not peo-
ple," I say, doubtfully, "and I am nearly
sure it Is a hymn."
"St. John has lost himself among the
psalms," says Cheri s.
•The, safest place ne ever 4. ot " says'
Mr. Silvestro.
"That comes of going to church," says
Captain Brabazon.
Lord St. John smiles blandly at his
friends and continues: "It may be that I
am prejudiced, Miss Adair," for a man
naturally likes to think that be ought to
he exactly like what he is, butl like be-
ing little.
He betakes himself to claret -cup, so do I,
and sit listening to the nonsense that is
flying aboat. How very seldom Silvia's
volco is heard. Iti the rarest thlng to
h ar her speak, and then it is only to 'Wily
or Fano, or Sir George Vestris. Although
she lives among us, sho somehove seems to
be sot apart; if it were not for her perfect
(wellness, one could never know she was
present I have seen neither look nor
word exchanged between hor and Paul
Vash r to -day. /1 he loves her still, how
can he bear to see her appropriated by an-
other man as he does? Mrs. Lister is op-
posite MO) and I make a discovery con-
cerning her; she wears false teeth, and
they do not fit her, She will eholte herself
eome day. Perhaps if she were to return
them to the dentist and say,
"Take back the teeth that thou gavest—
What is their use, sir, to me?"
he would glye her a sot that might flt her
better.
"There's my precious," exclaims Alice,
lifting her head and listening; and, sure
enough, certain clacks and coos and
fists. Alloe's son is a different matter.,
He ts eighteen months old, and of an 4n-
quiving, avaricious turn of mind. He
drink wine out of his mother's glass
without winking; he smashes a plate or
two, and nearly puts out his eyes with a
fork.
• Little Lord Si. John leaves his place, and
goes round, to look at the youngster, ad-
dressing it affectionately as chucky,
°hooky, ollucky!" whether under the
mistaken notion that he is a species of
young pig, I know not.
"Little angel I" murmurs Alice, gazing
at her son.
"Pretty king!" says Milly, as her in-
fant sneezes In her face.
"Never makes a sound," says Alice,
kissing the top of her baby's golden head.
• "Netter cries at strangers," says Milly,
• rubbing her cheeks against her heir's
primrose down.
I never knew until to -day how mothers
drivel. Lord St. John ventures his face
too near Alice's boy, and he puts out his
plump, jelly -covered tittle fingers, and
firmly grasps that •gentleman' mus-
taches with a solemn and del1ghtedddun-
tonancc. The more the poor man tries to
get away, the harder the babe holds on,
and ni t until tears of pain stand in Lord
St. John's eyes is he released.
We go intuthe drawing:room,.and stare.
at one another, and marvel, as eierybOdy
does every Sunday of their lives, what we
are going to do with ourselves.
"Are you going to church this after-
noon?" asks Paul Vasher's voice behind
me, as I stand drumming my fingers
against the glas•.
"It is too hot," I say, turning round.
"Oh, I do feel so orossl Why, may not one
work or, dis, or do something useful, on
Sunday, afternoons?"
"We are going to church," says Miss
Lister, appearing before us; "will you
come, Miss Adair?".
"No thanks," I say, looking up at the
burning, cloudless vault overhead. "Is it
not too far for you?"
They do not think it is, and go away to
"put their things on," ehich means half
an hour's hard labor before the looking -
glass, trying to make a silk purse out of a
I sow"Dsoena'rt. betray me if I tell gone secret,"
says Paul, laug Ing; "but I think the
Listers expect Brabazon and Oliver to ac-
company them to churoh, and they are
cowards! Did they pi omise to
go?"
"They temporized, I believe."
"Alas for the glory of the British flag!'
I say. "Isnot that one of them peeping
round. the beech -tree?"
"It is."
"I have a great mind, a very great
mind„ to tell the Listers where he is; they
would not stand on ceremony, they would
fetch him."
"Brabazon and Oliver would run," says
Paul "and it is to, hot for a chase, is it
not? Here they are."
I "Have you seen Captain Oliver?" &eke
the one.
"Have you seen Captain Brabazon?"
s asks the other, looking anxiously about.
I They are not looking in the right diree-
tion, or they would see the whole of one
gentleman's right boot and a half of the
other gentleman's left eye.
' "Wb en I look at those girle, " says
Paul, emphatically, "I feel thankful that
I have no sister."
"I am going out into the garden," says
Milly, appearing with Fane; "will you
come, Nell?"
I fetch my hat, and we all go Out to-
gether. Husband and wife walk in front.
His arm is round her neokber arm is half
way round his waist they lean toward each
other like a tall and short weeping -willow.
It is rather trying to one's gravity to walk
behind them, and catching Paul's eye, I
go off into a. fit of laughter.
"Do they always behave like that?" • I
ask. "I no -ver saw them together before,
except when they were engaged, and there
was some excuse then."
"They always did abroad," says Paul,
"or at least when I met them; they were
the amusement of all beholders."
"I would rather get up early in the
morning to do it" I say, energetically,
"than have every one smiling at nie,
would not you?"
I "Much rather!" he says, with em-
phasis; "it would pretty well take the
bloom off to have any amount of people
looking at one."
We are in the park now, where are cool
shady paths and long -pleasant glades.
through which the hot tyrannical sun can
not pierce. In the distance, Silvia and
Sir George Vestris are walking; do they ,
never, I wonder, grow tired of each other's '
• socidy?
"There go the lovers," says Paul, look-
ing toward them.
• "Are they both pretending, do you ,
think?"
"Pretending!" he repeats, with real
astonishment; why should she? I did not
know people ever pretended to be in love"
Evidently he has no suspicion that she
loves him still, far less is there any of the
quick eagerness in his voice that a lorer
should borrow.
"Nell," he says, looking down on rne
with a queer Smile, "donit
ceive any one, for •your face will always
betray you! Now, I know what you are
thinking; pray, was it to me and Silvia
that you meditated playing gooseberry?"
"'Yes, it was," I say, turning my red
face round. "1 have always wanted to tell
you. I knew all Along that you liked her;
I knew it at Charteris."
I "And you think I like her now?"
I "Do you not?" sI say,lifting my eyes to
his d re. :ace. "Do you forget so quick-
ly?"
"1 de not forget," he says, "but that old
fanoy is dead and buried, thank God I"( he
throws out his • arms with a gesture of
freedom), "and it is as likely to be revived
again as a body that has lain in the earth
until ib has fallen into dust."
'• "And she?" I ask, involuntarily.
I "Has forgotten," ho says; "why should
the remember me? • the never looks at or
notices me, and I don't think wo have ex-
changed twenty Words.
"Yes," 1 say to myself, "and that is
what makes me so MVO. If she ever look-
ed at or talked to you as any OPE else—"
But in hlin love is surely certainly
dead, for jealousy is the very pith and
maTTOVJ of the passion and he does not
feel a single twinge.
"She does not care for him!" I say,
stontly, ' "I have seen real lovers oftee;
they are different
Paul is loyal even to his buried love.
He doeil not say, "She is coquette to the
heart's core; she can never really' care for
any one," And I honor hire, as e
his peace and eve nothing.
• "And to -morrow thie Watt" I KW, ails
we turn back toward the house, following
the gracefully interwoven forms • of my
sister and brother-in-law, "you will be per.
'way ham among the birds! I wonder if
any instinct tells them that this is their
last day on earth?"
"It is to b.: hoped not! .4.nd What will
you, be doing?'
"Oh, I am going to enjoy insyelf, too,"
I say brightly; "rshall have a long gos-
sip with my sisters in the morning,and in
the afternoon I shall go down by the sea."
"And take a book?"
"No. I have such heaps to think
about I"
"People?" '
"Plenty—mother, and Jack, and Dolly,
and—and others."
"And others?' he repeats, bonding his
head to look into my face. "Tell me,
among these others is there—a Lubin?"
CHAPTER VL
.A.t Luttrell our letters are brought up
to us with our cup of may tea.
I have only one letter'and it lies on the
tray, staring me in the face.
I have heard that love -words written
down are even mocker than love -words
spoken; I break the seal and take
out the sheet whieh is written over in a
bold, bright handwriting, so very like
George's own looks. It is not very long
or particularly eloquent, but it is manly
and sover-like and not sufficiently spoony,
thank Heaven, to read ridiculously. I
think a good, long course of such letters
as these would impress me very favorably
as regards him.
Breakfast is early this morning to suit
sportsmen, and when I go down -stairs I
find it Well 'begun. The men are eating
with ft healthy vigor that nothing short
of some prospective slaughter of bird or
beast ever inspires in their manly breast.
They all look intensely awake, and upon
their countenances is that satisfied, all -is -
well expression that nothing on earth,
save the first of September, ever brings
there. Shorn of their nethes garments,
and clad in knickerbockers, they stand
confessed—stalwart men of flesh and
muscle, or weakly miserable creatures,
whose legs look as though a touch would
break them. Fano, Charles Lovelace, Sir
George Vestris, and Paul Vasher, stand
the test well; but the others but the others
—ah, what a falling off was there!
The conversation is not particularly in-
teresting; it is of "covers" and "coveys,"
"bags" and "beats," with many other
phrases that convey small meaning to our
ears, and once there is an indistinct
murmur of "luncheon and ladies." Yes,
ladies come last of all! For this is that
day of days when women, with a certain
sinking of the heart, or a sore smarting of
their vaniey, are forced to possess but a
divided empire over the hearts of men.
Breakfast is over,and we are all leaving
the dining -room.
"Won't you wish me good luck?" asks
Paul Vasher, st .nding before me, big and
,• masterful in his cootsgray clothes. (What
splendid legs he has got!)
"No, for you're bound on a bad errand
On the mint ary, I hope you will miss
everything, and that"—I cast about
floundering for a suitable sporting phrase
— "that your neighbor will wipe yonr
eye!"
He laughs. "Who taught you that ex-
pression?"
• "I forget. Jack, I think. It was quite
right, was it not?"
We are at the hall door now, where are
gathered togeber sportsmen, keepers. and
dogs, and a handful of young wives and
maids. Milly is bidding her lord farewell
for a whore` day, with a fervor that many
a death -bed parting lacks; Alice is stand-
ing on tip-tse to kiss Charles. It is as
pretty a picture to my mind as any of Mr.
Frith's.
"I hope," says Paul Vasher, that you
will enjoy your afternoon by the sea, and
— You never answered my question yes-
terday—was it an impertinent one?"
"It was," I sav, looking at him steadily
through the burning red of my cheeks.
What if I had asked you if you had a
Dulcinea?"
What, indeed!" he says, looking down
on me with an amused laughter in his
eyes.
"Are you coming, Vasher?" calls Ft net
and he goes with the rest.
(TO BE CONTIUED.)
Reclaiming a Brigand.
The last survivor of a wealthy Greek
fami.y, Skilizzi by name, was in Naples
overseeing the erection of a magnificent
mausoleum to the memory of his brother,
recently deceased. The mausoleum was
at some distance from the city,and a wild-
erness separated the building from the t
nearest road. In this wilderness Skilizzi
had one evening a strange adventure,
which he related afterward to Mr.liudolph
Lehmann, who prints it in his "Remin-
iscences."
Skilizzi was on his way to his carriage,
when he was accosted by a notorious arm-
ed brigand who infested the neighborhood,
and had baffled all attempts to oapture
him.
"Your purse or your life," called the
brigand, at the same time leveling his
gun. Skilizzi instead of being frightened,
answered quietly:
Put down that gun, and let us have a
talk."
The man obeyed.
"1 can give you my purse," Skilizzi
continued, "and should not feel the loss
,ottt; hntwould yousgain much by its con-
tents? They will not go far, and you will
then have to continue a brigand until you
are caught and beheaded."
"Quite true," said the man; "but then
I have a wife and children. I cannot let
theta starve."
"Suppose one promised to take care of
them, would you give up this infamous
life?"
"If I were sure of lb," said the man,
staggered, "I would give it up to -mor-
row."
"I give you," said Skilizzi, "a gentle-
man's word of honor that I will take care
of your wife and children. Will you come
with me, give youself up, Work out your
sentence -which will be infinitely more
lenient than if you were captured,—and
begin an honest life afterward?"
After., some moments of hesitation, the
man accepted the offer, They entered the
carriage together and drove to the nearest
pellet) station, where the man goy° him-
self up, to the unspe ikablos surprise of the
authorities.
Through the iron grating which now
separated the two the brigarld shook hands
with his captor, and said, "God bless
you!"
His Hobby.
1leooklyn Trolley Car Conductor—Go-
ing to lay off to -clay, Jim?
The Motorman—Being kinderlonegoine
I'M ging to werk, 'cause I inay run across
aortae of my old friends don to.
FOR ADAMS HELPMEET.
• HOUSHROLD HINTS.
'Metal Information for Our.Wives and
Daughters—Worth a Careful Head..
, Florenee Nightingales Wisdona•
Surely wornamshauld bring the best she
has, whatever that is, to the work of
"God's world. It does not make a thing
good that it is remarkable that a woman
should have been able to do It, neithor
does it make a thing had which would
have been made good if a man had done
it, if it had been done by a woman. 0,
leave these jargons, and go your way
straight to God's work in simplicity and
singleness of he rt.
trl Shonicl Learn
How to arran_e the parlor and library.
To say "Ilo," and mean it or
and stick to it.
To dress for comfort and health,as well
as appearance.
How to sew on buttons, darn stockings
and mend gloves.
To make the sleeping room the neatest
room in the house.
How to cultivate flowers and make and
keep the kitchen -garden. '
To regard morals 'and habit:, and not
Money in selecting their associates.
To observethe old rule: "A place for
everything and everything tn its place."
The iniportant tralsm that the more
they live within their income the more
they will save and the farther they will
get away from the poorhouse.
Buttons.•
Tailor-made dresses will if possible be
made even simpler than they Java been
heretofore, with nothing but two rows of
large buttons on the short h p waist and
large flaps reaching to the hem of the skirt
and themselves also adorned with buttons.
With such a oostume will be worn a small
girdle of velvet or passementerie closing
at the side with a single gigantic button.
Similar stripes are also applied on the
neck and sleeves. It is, of course, under-
stood that these buttons must be as ele-
gant as possible. They are made of oxi-
dized metal quite plain and flat or plate
shaped, and covered with chiseled ara-
besques or even in open-work ettect.
A Nobby Golf Suit.
An exceedingly nobby golf suit of brown
serge is made in blazer style. The coat,
coming about 12 inches below the waist-
line, has rounded fronts and a slight full-
ness at the back. The rolling collars and.
revers and the cuffs on the moderately -full
sleeves are bound with tan leather, and
the blazer fastens with twoleather-covered
buttons and a leather loop.
•The skirt has a gored front and full
• baok, and comes to the shootops, being
bound with tan -colored leather.
With this costume are worn tan leather
leggings and four -button pique gloves in a
darker shade of brown, leather belt, shirt
of p nk madras, black satin tie, and a
soft -stitched hat of the serge, bound with
leather.
For the Hair.
A. man, be he ever so young or old, does
notfeel any loss of dignity-, or presence, as
his hair departs and his head grows bald,
but a woman! Ah! that's quite another
story. There is no age at which baldness
adds anything to her looks or her import-
ance, and she never reaches the tirne of
life when she has not the coquetry of
wishing not to displease, even if she can
no longer please. Wiseacres tell us she
will never be first cousin to a billiard ball
Lf in her youth she will vigorously brush
her hair night and morning for fifteen
minutes, but, if the unwelcome process
has already begun, it may be stopped by
the use of a restorative made by adding a
teaspoonful of oil of mace to a pint of
deodorized alcohol. Pour some of this
liquid into a saucer and apply to the head
with a area I brush, rubbing vigorously
around the roots of the hair. On the bald
spot the mixture may be rubbed into the
s alp with a bit of flannel until the skin
is red. This should be done three times
a day for a month, or until the hair begins
to grow; then apply once a day and brush
the head thoroughly afterward.
For falling hair use a wash made by
steeping three -large onions in a quart of
ruin for twenty-four hours. Apply this
every second day, out should it be object-
ed to, ten drops of the oil of lavender and
ten grains of arubergris will overcome the
scent.
For Little Maids.
The smart little maid must have just as
nobby gowns as her fashionable mother.
She wears bigsleeves a flaring skirt and
sufficient waist garniture to make her as
pretty as a picture. She can rival the but-
terfly's wing in gay eolors, or she can be
dainty as the petals of the spring flowers
in white and the lovely soft,delicate goods
which seen to have been made especially
for the little darlings. Then, too, there are
so many attractive styles for children. Go
to some store where the ready-made gar-
ments are kept, and you will be perfectly
bewildered at the display and wonder wo-
men do not buy garments for children in-
stead of having thorn made at home. The
secret of it is this, these ready-made gar-
ments are too elaborate and hard to laun-
der. Most mothers prefer plain garments
for morning wear, with a little more
style and finish for afternoon. Yokes of
velvet, lace, or all over embroidery, give
such a touch of elegance to the tiny best
frocks. The simple wash dresses can be
made very attractive by the addition of a
mull collar adorned with ribbons. Plain
lawns, mulls, linens and piques are much
sought efter for children's wear, any ma-
terial having an embroidered dot being in
especial demand.
Too Hitch Honeymoon Sweets.
While traveling in Montana on the OA
stage lino running between Ogden. and
Helena, I met a sweet young Married couple
who never had been in these parts before.
At the dinner time tho conversation be-
tween thent run thus: "Please pass the
butter, lOve,'"Raip me to the salt,
floosie," "Hand mo the potatoes, darling,
etc. The stage driver and barn helper, who
always oat with the passengers at the
same table, became disgusted with such
talk, and decided to mock them, so the
driver said: "Jim, pass me the cheesie
vveezie 1"
This of course broke us all up, and you
could have heard us all roar with laugh-
ter, tvhile the loving couple hardly know
whether to join in the merriment or not
Good manners are stometimes an actin's -
ed habit.
_
FRENCH WOMEN AND FumEns,
----
Titioy Have ser A Finlay for Each Other
That A tise rassisions.
A Freueh woman al wa,ya weakens be-
fore the fascination of an °Ariel) plume.
There is it lilt and dash about the feath-
ers that she canuot resist, She puts theta
in her bets and on her gowns, ad she
wears them in her heir. Summer and
w i n ter, her example makes then:, fashion
able. This year they, will be worn in com-
bination with flovvem on the summer hats,
and will be used. in other ways for trim-
ming.
As trimming for evening dresses, they
are always fashionable. Oue beautifrd
FEA.TIIBB-TRIMMED seoWN.
dress of pale blue, with a heavily em-
broidered petticoat, was trimmed with
black feathers that looked as if they grew
where they were placed. There was ft.
bunch of three on each shoulder, one on
eath,side just below the bust line, two at
the waist, one of which was long and
hung down the skirt. Small tips finished,
the sleeve puffs. There was an embroid-
ered yoke of the same material as the
skirt, and the whole was a very striking
gown.
Another evening gown which attracted'
considerable attention was also a pale
blue silk. The skirt and sleeves were
blue, but the bodice was of crimson velvet,
the exact shade of jacqueminot roses.
knew it was the same shade, because the
young woman who wore it carried a large
bunch of the "jacks" tied with ribbon of
the same shade.
Flowers, notwithstanding their popular-
ity, are not much used on evening dresses
as they were in the early spring.
For young girls, a pretty evening dresse
is of white Swiss, trimmed with tiny.
flounces of yellow Valenciennes lace.
The Dressing of Small Daughters.
It is a much debated question among.
mothers who make a study of dress for
themselves, as to whether it is wisest to
train the small men and women to live up.
to ideal clothes, or to let them grow up in
plain unconspieuous garments, untram-
meled by the conventions of dress. Cer-
tain it is that the little girl will take on
dainty airs in reflection of her pretty
gowns; nothing teaches children to carry
themselves well so surely as being dressed...
to the part thee are wanted, to play. But
then again, vanity and self-respect are apt
to become hopelessly- intermingled. •A
great deal depends on the mothering the
child receives along with its clothes, ber
they pretty or plain.
The general rule to be laid down'is,
something as follows: from birth to two
years of age, white lawns, dimities, nein-
sooks and cambrics are used almost ex-
clusively, although after eighteen month.
very light-colored ginghams, daintily
striped flannels and Henriettas are quite
frequently worn. White guimpes are
made of tucked, feather -stitched or lace -
striped nainsook, and even for delicate
children are sufficiently warm, if all -wool
undergarments are used. Evert mother
should, by this time, understand the neces-
sity of clothing the little ones in pure
wool underwear. At two years of age the
skirts begin to shorten, having up to this
age reached to the instep, or barely
escaped the ground. At three they reach
quite to the knee, where they remain until.
the prospective woman has reached the
mature age of nine; then they are length-
ened an iuch or so for each year, until, at
fifteen, they are down to the boot tops.
• Shoeing the Baby.
The sole of the baby's bare foot is more
or less wedge-shaped, broadest at the' toea
and narrowing toward the heel. A shoe
mede on nature's plan should conform, im
a general way at lenst, to the shape of ths.
foot, being neither too loose nor too tight.
The toes of it little child, instead of being
cramped together, should have room to.
spread out, and mothers should see that
the baby's shoes are made on this plats:
The shoe should also be a trifle longer
than the foot, allowing room for growth -
and motion.
Of late years the idea of putting moo-
casins on the baby's feet has grown in
favor; and there is much to commend it.
Any really soft leather will suffice, though.
chamois is the most popular.
If made to lace well up above the ankle,
the moccasins will stay on the active littler
feet much better.
Defter Than Darning for Ilittolen Good*.
There are several sorts of gum tissue for
sale now to use in mending woelen mater-
ials, and the object of this paragraph is to
recommend any one of them to women
generally. An awkward rent may be al-
most entirely concealed by their help when,
the best darning ie the world would show,
and it new piece is always great trouble
and sometimes impossible. A bit of the
guru is put beneath the hole and then •fie
piece of the garment's material under the
gum. A hot iron is laid On the latter and,
prestol the thing is done. Care must he
taken to keep the tissue in a cool place
and not to have much of it on hand diaring
the hottest months, as it, is pretty sure 10.
run and stick hopelessly together.
• one wesonts,s Taste in Literature.
A young girt recently went to it neigh-
bor, on Saturday, to ask for it book for her
mother to read. • Naturally she was guess
tioned in regard to her mother's literary
tastes,: "0, she doesn't tare," was •the
naive reply, "whet sort of hook it is as
long as it has a'pretty binding. She Wants
something that she can hold in her hand
when the sits on the porch Sunday after --
noon," Now this is a true story.
HOW to Motto a Pinbox.
A. pillbox is an invaluable adrift -101x to
one's dressing table. To make it, corer
six small square boxes, which halos been
filled with entied hair, with One shade of
silk and fasten together at the sides. Sew
o valence around the °aside of all, of the
same silk. On one put black pins, another
white, another the Getman tedoti, phi*
enotlisse safety pins, Another }zanies ataii.
keep the last for stiek pins