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!/V\ I.' ':?' v *V ...* t >.y v'* v\ ' V ^ f\:,' } 4/jjraS Silent Sounds. Ton do not hear it? Unto me The sweet low sound comes ceaselessly; And, floating, floods tho earth and sky With tender tone. Ton do not hoar the restless boat * Upon the floor of childish foot? Of feet that tread tho flowery street Of heaven alono. At morn, at noon, at eve, at night, I hear tho patter, soft and light, And catch tho gust of wings, snow-white, About my door. And on tho silent air is borne The voice that from my world was torn? That loft mo, comfortless, to mourn, For evermore. Sometimes floats up from out tho street The boyish laughter, bird-like, sweet? I turn, forgetfully, to greet, My darling fair: Soft as tho ripple of tho stream, Breeze-kissed beneath the moon's palo beam, How strangely real doth it seem! And ho not there. Ah, no; 3*011 cannot hear his call; You catch no laugh, nor liirht footfall; I tun his mother?that is all; And Ho who said, "I will not leavo tlice desolato," Has, somehow, loosed the bonds of fate And left ajar tho golden gate Which hides my dead. ?Nellie Walls McVcy. A SINGER'S ROMANCE. A full, rich, powerful voice, cnidc as yet, and untutored, yet with the unmistakable attributes of genius, a voice which promised a glowing future. "Sing it again, Nora?that's splendid," and the singer commenced again. Full, swelling, passionate, until the voice died away in a trembling, weirdi;ir? ti iVVy IliV/UU* Scene.?A large, scattered workshop in the heart of the bustling, busy city. Time?Noon. Cast of Characters?Some twenty or more tired shop-girls, seated around the stove, eating their plain, coarse dinner. Not a very romantic affair, and yet from that shop was to come one who should weave a romance which I know to be true. "If I had a voiec like yours, Nora, I'd make it tell," cried Maggie Hunter, a good-natured girl, who sat by the fire, contentedly munching an apple. "If I had your voice, Nora Neale, I'll tell you what I'd do. I'd nevor rnst ron tented in this old shop, but I'd make it earn my living for me. God didn't give you beauty, Nora, but lie did give you a splendid voice, and it's your own fault if you don't make the most of it." i "Oh, do you really think it is good ^ enough for that, Maggie?" and Nora turned her flushed face to the speaker. "If I thought I should ever be a fine singer, I would work day and night for I would be willing to wear a calico < disss all the days of my life, only to hav^ ^jflcceps at last." W- HL"No need of your wearing calico all W your life. Your voice will earn you silks, if you only have sense enough to make it," returned her companion. All through the long afternoon strange fancies ran through the head of Nora Neale. The sharp click of the sewing-machine kept time to the busy thoughts whirling through "her brain, and as she walked ' % 0 ' home in the dull, November twilight, a firm resolution filled her soul. 1i7antkd-A YOTTXO- ftinr. tfi watt vv on the door and lusMMt tlio housekeeper. Apply at No. 40 Buueon street. Nora laid the paper down. Outside the chill, drizzling, November rain fell drearily, making sad, desolate music; but inside Nora's heart was full of sunshine. She knew the house well. Every morning, for over a year, she had passed it on her way to the shop, often stopping to hear the sweet melody filling the air. How many times she had wished as she v read the name of the great musician, that she could go to him and cultivate the voice God had given her. And now, not only to enter his house but to live there! What matter if she was onlv the crirl to wait on thn dnnrl Would slio not constantly hear the glorious melody flouting out on the air, and could she not gleam some knowledge from what she could overhear? "No harm trying," said Nora, as she folded the paper carefully and went to her room. "Yes, I think you will suit. The fact is," and the old housekeeper grew confidential, "I ain't so young and spry as I used to be. I find that running up stairs and down stairs, is almost too much for me, and when I spoke about it to Master Carl, he told me to get some nice, young person to wait on the door, and run errands for me. Yes, dear, you look smart and trim, I'think you vill do." And ? Nora left the talkative housekeeper with a joyful heart. A week later and Nora Nealc was an inmate of Carl Matzell's beautiful -oine. The old housekeeper was in her room, taking her customary aftcuoon nap. Nora had finished her work, and taking enmp tnwola t.Kft K/maMrnnrvnr Ko/1 her to hem', she brought them into the sitting-room, and sat down at the window to sew. Prom the ioxt room the voice of one of Master Carl's pup.'s practicing a difficult trill, ca.no distinctly to her car: "Oh! if I could only hear what he tells her, tncn I might practice it to-night, after he goes out," murmured Nora, and Ifora drew the cricket softly to the door, ^ "\a.' ^'?^1 ^ ' ^ ''y 3^^"' mmm?mmm~mmx=*mm-mmmm~mmm-m~?mmm?mmmmmmmmm. just in time to hear him say, "Try tha again, Miss Morton. The voice shoul< linger a trifle more on the upper tone." Again the clear bird-like voice of th pupil rang out, until the dclightei teacher clappcd his hands softly, ex claiming: "Bravo, Miss Morton, that was find; rendered." Nora listened eagerly, until the rust ling of silk warned her that the lessoi was finished, and she heard the lady lis to go. That night, after Carl Matzcll left tin house, Nora having satisfied herself tha the liousekecjier was busy chatting to ai old friend, stole softly to her room, am commenced the lessou she laid listenec to that afternoon. Days and weeks glided away, and Nori steadily practiced the lessons she stol< from her unsuspecting teacher. A year had passed away since Nori had entered Carl Matzell's home. Tin housekeeper was out, and Carl was away Seated before the open piano, Nori played softly an accompaniment; thcr her full, clear, rich tones filled the room Trilling, like she had heard Miss Morton, then bursting forth iu full, clear melody. The door softly opened, and Carl Mat zell silently took the picture in. "Waiting until the singer had finished, lie exclaimed, softly: "Very well done, Nora. Very wcl done, my girl." Poor Nora; a deep blush overspread her face; then, suddenly, she becamc pale as death. "Never mind, Nora, a happy accidenl has revealed to me the power of youi voice. It is my wish for you to commence a thorough course of instruction, for I have every reason to believe that, with proper training, you will bccomc one of the finest vocalists I have evci heard." Nora knelt at his feet in irratitudo. nnd - - - - - o ~ * impetuously kissing his hand hastened from the room. "At last," she murmured, "at last. Tc think I shall really become what I have always longed to be. And Mr. Matzell! oh, he is so good!" and happy Nora burst into a flood of tears. Never did Carl Mntzell have a more industrious pupil than Nora, and never was enthusiastic teacher more abundantly rewarded. Two years from the time Nora Neale entered Carl Matzell's home, as an humble maid, found her dressing for her debut. Nora's voice trembled as she glanced at the surging mass before her, but one look at her teacher's face reassured her, and she retired amidst the wildest applause. Nora Neale rode home that night a distinguished woman. Her appearance had been a compietc success. But Nora was not pericctly happy. Foolish Nora had learned another lesson. Slic had learned to love her noble teacher In vain she cliided and reproached herself for her folly. Late that evening Carl Matzell, opening the door of the music room, was surprised to sec Nora sitting in the utmost abandonment, her head resting on the ta >le, her rich robes sweeping the floor. Sob after sob shook licr frame, and Carl watched her tenderly, pityingly, while a deeper, warmer feeling crept into his heart. A new emotion thrilled him as he looked at the youncr irirl. That evening he had been proud of his pupil, had admired her as she stood before the delighted audience, but not until he beheld her, desolate and alone, did the love, long slumbering in his breast, ivakc to full life. "Nora," he cried, softly; and Nora raised her tear-stained face from the table. "Nora, come to me;" and Nora sped to the open arms, thankful for the love and protection offered her. Manv vears have nnssnd awhtt nlt.m * / X" "" "J *"#,v Nora Neale became the wife of tbe noble Carl Matzell, and every year but strengthens the love they benr each other; while in the whole city th-re is no happier home than that of the wealthy music teacher and his gifted wife. Medical Intelligence. Col. "VVithcrepoon, to whom wc have frequently referred to as the meanest man in Austin, has been in poor health for some months past. The principal cause of his feebleness is his unwillingness to feed himself with sufficient copiousness. A few days ago, while he was taking the air, he met Dr. Perkins Soonover. Withcrspoon thought this was a good chance to get some medical advice without paying for it. "How do you do this morning, colonel?" asked Dr. Soonover. "Poorly, doctor, poorty. Fot aome time past I have been suffering from weakness. As von ?oiv T ran linr/lln -walk. What shall I take, doctor?" "Tako a hack," replied the doctor, gruffly, as he strode off."?8 if ting 8. She Knew Him. Sarcastic wife ? "Coming home &! usual, I suppose?" Pond of staying out late husband? "Yes, certainly." Sarcastic wife?"Well, put this-lettei in the first mail in the mornfog, and il you meet the milkman tell him to leaY< two quarts."?Judge, ~\ WHALING. I An Old Sea Captain's Tale of ? its Rise and Kail. 4 1 * Brisk Dr>y3 in Now England Porta Followed by Stagnation. Forty years ago, before gas and mineral oil had come into general use, the II pursuit and capture of whales was one of 0 the most important industries in the country-, and Ncw-Enjjland was its home. 3 Every spring a large licet of whaling ves* sels sailed out of Vineyard and Block Is1 land Sounds, to return in two or three ^ years loaded to their decks with oil and * bone. Their erews were composed of Americans, men who had been born and 1 brought up in New-England, either on 2 the mainland or on Nantucket, Block Island, Martha's Vineyard or some of the adjacent islands, with now and then a 1 farmer's son fresh from the liny field, or 2 dissipated young men who were sent out by their friends in the hope that the voy1 age would work a reformation iu their 1 characters and tastes, and a foreigner was seldom seen among them. The wharves > of New-Bedford, bag Harbor and NewLondon resounded with the songs and " cries of the stevedores as they hoisted " out the barrels of oil and bales of bone " from the holds of returned vessels, teams rambled down on the piers laden with I stores of provisions and rigging for outward-bound ships, and the ringing sound l of the calking mallet as it struck the iron, 1 the creaking of blocks and the llapping sails, all combined in one busy hum ^ which lasted from morning till night. Now all is changed. In the spring a " few small vessels and perhaps one or two large ships, a mere ghost of the former fleet, creep out of the sounds betwnon ! the headlands of Montauk and Cape Cod, and spreading their patched and worn sails to the breeze, stand ont into the ^ deep water in search of the "lords of the L ocean." Their crews are composed of I foreigners, mostly Portuguese from the Western Islands, and it is as rare to sec ! an American among them as it was forty ' years ago to see a foreigner. The wharves are deserted and still, and in place of the many gallant ships which in the good old 1 days tilled the harbors, are a few small fishermen and coasters, and the arrival of a whaling vessel causes as great a commotion in the town as a visit from a royal personage. In years past the American flag was carried by whalers to the uttermost parts of the globe; now it is seldom seen off our coast. An old sea captain said recently: "Forty years ago we were the greatest nat:-on on the sea; now we are the greatest on the earth. The first attempt to capture whales for the purpose of getting oil which is contained in the blubber or outer covering of which we have any record was made by the French in the latter part of the fourteenth century. These whales were a small species, probably l lll.'inlcfish wllinll frimivnl/iil T)..,. 1 ? W.. ..v.juvmuu MAI/ JJUJ U1 Biscay, and they were soon driven olT the coast by the unceasing war which was waged on them. From this time until toward the end of the sixteenth century we have no record of the industry. About > this time the Dutch founded a smali village on the island of Spit/.cnberg, and whaling was carried on by them to some extent. The whales, however, were soon 1 driven oil and betook themselves to the coast of Greenland. The Dutch followed them, and for more than a century the i Dutch oil trade flourished. in 1080 it reached its height. There were then 200 1 Dutch ships and 14,000 sailors engaged in the business, but from that time it begun to decline and in the present century has been given up altogether by that pcoi. pie. Then it was taken up by the English, but they never made a success of it . and now they have almost abandoned it. > In 1815 they had 1G4 ships in the business, but at present less than twenty. "The industry was early taken up by 1 the New-England colonies, aud was at first carried on ia small boats from the shore. In the first part of this century the yrhaleswere driven off the coast and became scarce, and larger vessels were fitted out for their capture. The principal whaling ports at this time were NewBedford, Holmes's TIoll, Edgartown, Sag Harbor, Greenport and Xew-London. In 1854 the industry reached its height. There were then nearly five hundred vessels employed in the trade, and their aggregate tonnage was over 200,000 tons, but then it began to decline, and ' has never since regained its former magnitude. Now there are about 100 whalers hailing from New-England ports and about twenty from Sun Francisco. A large p:'rt of the New-England whalers are what is called 'plum-puddingerSj'that is, vessels which go out on short cruises, generally for a year. The San Francisco vessels are mostly large barks. They cruise both in the South Pacific and Arctic oceans, and generally ship their men for a three years' cruise. Of late years mftny so-called improvements havo been made in the appliances used in the capture of whale, among which are the ( bomb gun and bomb-lance, but old whalers do not believe in these modern inventions and claim that, nothincr has yet been invented which is equal to the t old-fashioned harpoon and lance, j "Whales arc getting plcntier and plcn, tier every year and if there hould ever be a big demand for sperm A V/' . \ V ?V >- "' ^ >. < - *<$V*'V"7* '' :^>*V ! *> * ?t*i TVs" i \ v ? 7. I oil you'd find there's plenty of whales left. But I'm afraid that time will not ., come in my day, A whaling trip's not p exactly a pleasure trip, but one gets attached to the business,- and although I'm over sixty years old now I believe I could throw an iron as well as I ever could. In the old days a captain would make enough money in a few trips to keep him the rest of his life, but now h?'? lnH-v if lm makes enough to keep him a year. No, whaling's not what it used to be."?JS'tw York Tribune. Delcrium Tremens. The late John 1J. Gough thus described j his experience of this disease: "As in the former attack, horrible \ faces glared upon mo from the walls? faces ever changing and displaying new and still more horrible features?black, bloated insects crawled over my face, and myriads of burning, concentric rings 1 were revolving incessantly. At one mo- i inent the chamber appeared as red as i blood, and in a moment it was dark as a cliarnel house. I seemed to have a knife with hundreds of blades in my hand, every blade driven through the flesh of my hands, and all were so inextricably bent and tangled together that I could not withdraw them for some time; and j when I did from my lacerated fingers the , bloody libers would stretch out all quive- I ry with life. After a frightful paroxism of this kind I would start like a maniac from my bed and beg for life?life! "What I of late thought so worthless seemed now ol unappreciablc value. 1 dreaded to die and clung to existence, as -r i: ii-.i * * - iccinig timt my sours salvation depended 1 on a little more of life. A great portion I of this time I spent alone; 110 mother's hand was near to wipe the big drops of perspiration from my brow; no kind voice cheered me in my solitude. Alone I encountered all the host of demoniac forms which crowded my chamber. No one witnessed my agonies or counted my woes, and vet I recovered?how still remains a mystery to myself; and still more i mysterious was the fact of my concealing my sufferings from every mortal eye. In about a week I gained in a great degree the mastery over my accursed appetite, but the strife had made me dreadfully weak. Gradually my health improved, my spirits recovered, and I ceased to despair. Once more I was able to crawl into the sunshine; but, oh, how changed! Wan cheeks and hollow eyes, feeble limbs and almost powerless hands plainly enough indicated that between me and death there had indeed been but a step." Prince Bismarck at Homo. A North Gerniiin nrrindirnl +Vin * ? " j following story of the great Chancellor at ^lomc as told by a Bible colporteur: "In one of my journeys I came to Varzin wliHe the Imperial Chancellor was residing there. After 1 had done a long day V work?it was generally understood thai my object was to spread abroad the word of God?I went to the inn. I was there asked if I would go to evening prayers at Bismarck's house, as the daughter of the host was going. I accepted the invitation, and when I got there I found myself in a spneious and very suitable room, which had been built for the purpose. It was well filled with servants, farm laborers, and villagers, some of whom, having seen me before, greeted me kindly and invited me to sit beside them. Soon afterwards Prince Bismarck made his appearance, and went through the assembly to the reading-desk, nodding kindly right and left as he passed. I was delighted to see him take the place as fnasi tcr of the house in such a way. lie thon commenced, 'I hear we have a Bibleman among us'; and he looked ine straight in the face in a kindly way, whereupon, on course, all eyes were turned upon me. You will be so kind as to conduct service for this evening.' I roso up and answered, .'It would be displacing your highness for me to ' I could not say any more, when the prince interrupted me with, 'Ah, my good man, what does highness signify? Here in God's sight we are all poor sinners, so come here and take my place this evening, and conduct the service for us.' So, of course, 1 acceptepted his invitation, the prince taking his place amongst the audience; and when it was over he shook me warmly by the hand, and wished me God's richest blessing on ray way." Origin of "A One-IIorse-To>TiuM The old Virginians were singular city builders, says Joaquin Miller in one of his letters. * All cities of the earth, except the two theocracies of Jerusalenvnnd Salt Lake city, as a rule, took root at . some port. But these "cavaliers" never seem to have cared for boats or anything but their horses to curry them. And so wo find Jefferson and Monroe away out here 100 miles from the nearest port. And to this day these people literally ' live on horseback. You oan not get an old Virginian to take the cars if the contemplated journey can possibly be made on horseback. And so it is that at all the towns you pass by you see horses hitched to the 4'racks" up and down the long straggling streets. Sometimes you see two dozen horses, sometimes ten, sometimes six, sometimes only a very few. It depends on the size and dignity of the town. Sometimes you see only one hone. And so that is a one-horse o wn. This is the origin of the expression "A. town." V1-V-' ? mj''JrH . '} v" P JL AUIES' DEPARTMENT. Tlie SoiiRorihe Home llroom. I sing tho crisp song of tho house broom, So brisk nnd of nothing afraid, Tho emblem of order nml neatness. In tho strong grip of mistress or maid. For whether to whisk, swoop, or freshen, I sing and rejoice while at work, And my honest home thrust is at rubbish and dust Wheresoever they rally or lurk. In drawing room, boudoir nnd chamber, I'm at home ns in kitclion or ball. Upon doorsill, piazza, and stairway "Swish! swish!" sounds my challenging S<ol1 I'm tlio tyrant Sloth's Nemesis; swiftly TLio chains of neglect I unloose. Room, nom for the broom, inactivity's doom, Sworn foo to defect and disuse! Over Axminster woof and rag carpet My march I impartially take, "While my sister, the plumed feather duster, Head erect, follows fast in my wake. Not a corner so dark but I search it, Not a cranny too deep to explore; After which, shoulder arms! till the next day's alarms Call 1110 forth, thorough-paced as before. My queen, lovely woman, impels mo, I'm her slave or defender at need, As many a foe will beat* witness "Whom a broomstick hath put to his speed. In her grasp, bo it dimpled or bony, I'm tho sceptre or drudge of her will, And my besom-like course, gathers daftness or force As hor housewifely wishes I fill. I am the sprite of arrangement, I am tho vassal of thrift; To woman, for man's better comfort, I am civilization's best gift. Whilo cleanliness?so runs tho proverb? Is to godliness nearest allied. Room, room for tho broom, amid snnshine and gloom Tho housekeeper's glory and pride! ?Nathan D. Urner, in New York Sun. Persian Women. Diplomacy, intrigue and influence in Persia are dependent in a large measure on the force of character displayed by the women. If a man wishes to influence another in an affair of importance, he manacres it bv confiding the matter tn i w - O one or all of his wives, who in turn visit the wives of one who has influence over him, and by urging and presents seek to attain the object. Most of the important transactions of Persia arc conductcd in this manner. In tlie Social Circles ot Mexico. There is great excitement in the higher social circles of Mexico. A number of innovators are attempting to introduce the Parisian bonnet, and many Mexican ladies are wearing them instead of the j national and poetic mantilla. Mexican patriots see in this the entering wedge of national decay, and call upon the ladies to resist the blandishments of those who would bring them under the dominion of the Parisian milliner. The ladies, how 1 | ever, do not appear to be impressed by i their appeal.?Chicago Journal. i Woman's Charm. Every woman has some special charm, j which she should find out and cultivate. It may be lier eyes, her mouth, her hair, her brow, her form, her hand?or her foot. It may consist in some trick of smiling, or of a drooping lid; some grace of speech or of silence, of laughter or of ' motion. There are ugly beauties?the . New York stage has one?and Fifth avent c another?as ugly and as irresistablc as that famous Countess of Berlin of whom Lola Montez used to tell. She had a dull eye, a rough skin, a dumpy form and a pug nose. But she had an exquisite voice and she understood the difficult art of conversation. She knew in what her strength lay, and she had cultivated her two gifts to the highest point. "Had I a daughter," Lola Montez said, "the first thing I would teach her should be that to converse charmingly is a far greater accomplishment than to play, sing or dance well.?Fashion Bazaar. Woman'* (alorjr. "One of the few markets for a woman's work which is not overcrowded, and at which competent and fairly intelligent girls can earn good wages from the first day they enter upon the profession, is that which includes the working, cutting, and general arrangement of the human hair," said a leading New York tonsorial artist recently. "At present the hair trade, like other businesses, is very dull. Wearing short hair had a great deal to do with the depression, but now it is going out of fashion, thank goodness. It used to take six or eight people cutting hair all day to earn $10. The average wages for female-hairdressers are #8 a week, rising to $18 and sinking to $5. A girl who understands tho whole business thoroughly in all its branches can command $18 anywhere. One large artist ih this city used to employ 140 girls, and paid out $700 weekly in wages." "Where do the profits of the profession lie?" "In the falsc-hair department. We sell on an average three wigs a day, even during dull times. The ladies who have had their hair cut and are tired of it buy' trim nr cwit^Vinc Va mnar ft. +v*. 1. I ?. w? WM.WMVV W AM VHV OUWV? Those whose hair is poor, or who suffer from baldness, wear them at all times. Girls who confine their attention to hairworking alone earn from $8 to $10 a week. It is an art that needs some skill aud no small amount of patience and per* severance to succeed with. The hair with which the wigs are made is collected by special drummers in Gormany V :rwwm. X? v -'<v V' ,>' >'; ,;'-!T ?|A- *aCJ^-V.vV V ,'* , '; . ? 4 *' *W-* V .^/'YVv. "? : * 1 ' * *'" and France. Englaud and Belgium are but poor markets for hair, not because of its scarcity, for both English and Rulcinn ? r O women have the finest heads of hair in the world, but because they will not sell it. Wlien collected it is put through a cleaning process severe enough to fetch the dirt out of an elephant's bide aud then dyed several times over. The best hair-dressers never buy hair from tho head or from private hands." "What is the rarest kind of hair?" "Perfectly white hair; it will command almost any price. Natural curling hair is also of considerable value. A good wig of white hair costs $40. The material of which these wigs arc made are clipped from the festive goat, and seldom from the human head. A peculiarly soft, silky kind of snow-white hair originates on the Angora rabbit. A perfectly white and abundant wig of white human hair would cost at least $1000, which price few ladies would be willing to pay. Dead hair?that is, hair cut from the head after death?is never used by any tonsorial artist worthy of the name. Indeed, it cannot be used to any advantage, as it will neither curl, twist, nor manipulate, llair cut from a living Lead is not dead, a fact which can be easily proved by takiug a hair and strctcliingit out to its utmost capacity. It will then contract quietly back to its former position." Fnihlon Notes. Tucks arc revived for frocks. Bordered stuffs are worn again. Silver and gold braid arc much worn. Striped cheviots come in new shades and colors. The new cotton goods are as handsome as India silks. Homespun promises to be popular for new costumes. New hats and bonnets arc as high as ever or higher. Velvet surfaced waterproof garments are much worn. Pulls and pads around the armholes are things of the past. Summer homespun come in diagonals, stripes and plain ground. Blue and green, giving a peacock effect, is used iu Parisian costumes. Jetted tissues have stripes with designs in round beads and pendants. i'ansian lasluon decrees that each dress must have a mantle to correspond. Galloons of loops and frayed ends of braid are employed for trimming mantles. Violets will lose their popularity soon ?as soon as they become plentiful in the fields. For combination toilettes of which velvet forms a part the bonnet is of the velvet. Iridescent and jet beaded tissues are shown in rich designs for panels and plastrons. The old-time fashion of trimming the edges of basques with bead pendants has been revived. White petticoats are no longer worn directly under the dress skirt, except for indoor toilets. Another season of black hosiery predicted, but not to the exclusion of colored stockings. Shirred bodices have sleeves to correspond, resembling the old time leg-ofmutton sleeves. rasnion decrees that old and eldorly adies may wear colors as well a3 black and dark gray. Short loose jacket fronts opening over long-pointed waistcoats are seen on some of the new spring street drosses. Some of the new dresses have full overskirts shirred on to the long bodice, which is pointed back and front. Dark blue, dark green, pansy shades, garnet, bronze and drab are worn by eldorly as well as by younger women. Velvet basque bodices may be worn with contrasting skirts of silk or wool and tulle or lace. The -velvet should be of a dark color. Neck trimmings t\xp of the daintiest and most exquisite description, and will be a most becoming adjunct to many of the spring styles. Immensely big buttons?too largo to pass through a buttonhole?are used simply decorativcly, being sewed on dresses that are fastened with hooks and eyes. Statesmen In Street Cars. "Washington, says a correspondent, abounds in fine carriages and horses, yet - " tw6-thirds of the House of Representatives^ half the Senate and nearly all the Supreme Court patronize the street cars. Senator Edmunds lovos a seat at the front of tho car, where he may turn his back on everybody and look, out of the window. On cold days he carries a heavy blanket whh him, which he spreads over * his legs. His ride is a long one, from the Capitol to the outer end of Massachusetts avenue, "t was crowded out by the exccss of civilization down at Thomas "** circle," he says, "and I have gono clew ^ out under the shade of the woods at Kalaramn." The Southern men use the cars without exception, unless it be But ler. He love# to roll homo in a conpe. Hackmen find him a go6d customcc. Sabin, pf Minnesota, usually keeps him company and they chip in on fare*.