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MAGNES GCTON- WINNSBORO, S. C., WEDNESDAY, JULY 4, 1906. ESTABLISHED 1844 BERHIA RDT'S ART MII DRESS GREAT SPLENDOR OF WARDROBE OF THE WORLD'S GREATEST ACTRESS. Much Study Given to Make Each Gown Adaptable to the Part Fre sented.-Artist's Taste and Genius Very Evident. What does Madame Bernhardt wear? During her engagement in this coun try, this question about the famous actress was asked by every woman unable to judge by seeing for herself, and the reply is the de ghted ex clamation: "Her gowns are simply gorgeous they are a part of her." In the many plays presented, Bern hardt has aa oppo .unity of displaying a great variety of dresses, and thou sands of women who have packed the large theatres at every performance whereever she appeared, have stared at them in wonder, recognizing not only their perfect adaptation to the part .presented, but also how much of Bernharfft's own taste and genius there was in them. HER GENIUS FOR ' "SIGN. What is it? The gift displayed in this particular, is as characteristic of the woman as any other of the count less details which go to make her the public idol of all lands. Even those who did not understand the spoken language of the play, were full well able to comprehend that of the silk, satin and lace facing them over the flaming footlights. This artiht has demonstrated to thousands, that a gown may be superior in lines and ccnstruc tion to the flimsy models sent over each year from Paris for our slavish 0llowing. Street clothes, of course, demand a certain amount of c-aven tionality, in order not to ma>% the wearer conspicuous, but sinc: the Bernhardt engagement in their respec tive fashion centers, not a few devisers of costumes have declared their inten tion of taking indoor styles more ser iously. HER EXAMPLE FOLLOWED. For those women whose incomes ad mit of certain and extravagant expend iture for clothes, it is just now consid ered wonderfully "smart" to furnish their own dressmakers and tailors with water-color sketches of models, speci ally drawn for them by famous artists, these sketches being used solely for their own particular gowns. With the stage for a precedent, these fashionable dames have found it convenient to adopt its methods. For those who can not indulge in this fad, theater-going MADAME SARAT In Costume Worn in Her Fam<c assumes an added phase of enjoyment to womankind. Sara Bernhardt's crea tions are curiously interesting from the point of view that they serve as an ad e vance- courier of what may be accom plished by women who -effect the hour glass figure as that demanded by fash ion purveyors. Her carriage is lofty, her chest is high, her waist line ample, and her head well poised-quite the reverse, you will observe from the figure usually attributed to French women. But how unfettered is Bern hardt's every action, and how splendid her movements! In other words, she has mastered so absolutely the art of dressing well, that once clothed, she is utterly oblivious of her adornments. -A UNIQUE INNOVATION. Novel indeed is the hip swathing of all Mmne. Bernhardt's gowns and all her frocks are set up on classical lines. The bodices show waist lines either below her natural bust or well down on her abdomen, preferably the latter style, as it gives her body that hygi enic poise which every woman's better nature knows to be its proper setting for prolonged activity. To demonstrate how Mme. Bern hardt manages to make this audaci ous deviation from fashion's dictates attractive, it is well to say that she had specially designed a cuirass over w!' she has her maid wind yards of soft ribbon which is finally tied in front with an ornamental bow and long streamer ends. This style is especially adapted to her, as it makes her appear taller, a point well worthy of imitation! On this particular gown the hip swath ing ends in pailletted stole ends, drip ping with gold fringe. Her tiny feet are encased in marvelously fitting slip pers of cloth of gold. WONDERFUL BREAKFAST ROBE. The robe worn in the breakfast scene in "Magda" is worthy of study. It is a silver-encrusted lace creation over pastel blue, set up with wide shoulders and a swathing of pale blue ribbon, ending in large rosettes with stole ends in front. A uniqz . but char acter-lending touch is a miniature Em pire stole-merely a patted line of priceless sable, which gives the frock, in its Empire draping, the much need ed long straight lines from neck to hem. The sleeves, too, which are lace puffs, with forearms of transparent lace, show pale blue bracelets at their division, made visible only by the art ist's gestures, a subtle touch, but very pleasing. COSTUMES WORN IN "CAMILLE." Ravishing, indeed, are her "Camille" dresses! The first mystery is in sil ver strewn gauze, wrought with a lat tice work of pink ribbon embroidery near the flare at the foot, this outer work of art being fashioned over let tuce green satin soupl6. The hip swathing and stole ends are in the same tone, and she wears with extra ordinary grace a frosty pelerine of pale green chiffon, decorated with fetching clusters of blush roses. Another of the "Carmille" frocks re veals the French dressmaker's power of detail. The material is lustrous white satin, with raised embroidery in variegated pink flowers with green foliage-the corsage resplendent with well set gems. Another change to which she treats her audience in "Camille" is a gorge ous half-fitting robe of white lace semi-fitting princess is this model, the lace flecked with reddish gold figures, seemingly woven into the texture. Pale pink is the foundation, as is also the hip lining. HER "ANGELO" COSTUME. In "Angelo," Mme. Bernhardt's dress, an Italian princess costume, is fashioned from gorgeous gold brocade. It is set up on short-waisted, half-fitted [BERNHARDT. s "Camille" Ball-room Scene. bodice lines, with the long sweeping folds of the skirt attached. The mater al is so draped as to present an unbro ken straight front, from the tucker decorated corsage to the foot line. Beautifully adjusted leg-of-mutton sleeves of gold brocade meet fitted fore arm coverings of cloth of gold, the lat ter extending In shaped circular flares, well drawn down over the knuckles, ending just a touch of .uching to soften the effect. A classic drapery of gobelin blue crepe, deftly touched with embroidery of deeper tone, accentuates the beauty of the ensemble. This cloak hangs in long straight lines over the gown, be ing but loosely caught together at the sides with tapestry blue cords arnd tag sels. With this is worn a dog collar of pearls. Other femInine accessories. quite out of the ordinary, are the jewei-studded cloth-of-gold chatelkine bag, susnended on a long. danging gold chain, and several plain linked gold chains worn JULY SECOND THE DAY GOVERNMENT HISTORIAN SAYS REAL LNDEPENDENCB IS 3OT THE FOURTH. Colonies Made Declaration Against England Previous to Drawing iis torical Paper.- Final Signing of Document on August Second. According to the opinions of the latest historical authorities both the school children of by-gone days and those of the present time have been taught incorrectly as to the proper In dependence day of the nation. No one date seems to de-'elop such excitable emotions as does he mention of the Fourth of July, but how unattractive would it seem if we were to state that the second of July is the day of fire crackers, bombs and Roman candles. -And yet, according to Mr. William H. Michael, Chief Clerk and Historian of the Department of State,, "The real In dependence Day is the second of July." Since we bent over our childhood histories we have always had an idea that our fathers severed the ties with Great Britain on the Fourth of July, 1776, and we have had word of no less an authority than Thomas Jefferson, author of that hallowed instrument, that the Declaration was signed on that date, on whose anniversary the great father of democracy died. But Mr. Michael says no, and for years he has toiled for his country beneath the same roof which shelters the sacred document; has had the nation's arch ives at his fingers' ends. INDEPENDENCE ON JULY 2. "The independence of the United States was declared by resolution on the 2d of July, and the adoption of the form of Declaration on the 4th of July was a secondary matter," says Mr. Michael. "It is a little strange that more importance was not attached to the 2d of July in connection with the Declaration of Independence. The res olution introduced by Richard Henry Lee, was passed on that day (July 2, 1776). This was really the vital point -the crucial juncture." The real act of independence, which Mr. Michael has had reproduced in fac simile, was then the Lee resolution declaring: "That these United colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and inde pendent states; that they are absolved from all allegiance to the British Crown, and that all political connection between them and the State of Great Britain is, and ought to be, totally dissolved." SIGNED AUGUST 2. Concerning the actual date of the Declaration's signing, Mr. Michael says: "Mr. Jefferson in his account states that all the members present except Mr. Dickinson, signed the Dec laration in the evening of the Fourth of July. The journal shows that no one signed it that evening except Mr. Hancock and Mr. Thomson. The journal entry is: 'Signed, John Han cock, President, Attest, Charles Thom son, Secretary.' * * * On August 2, the Declaration, as engrossed under the order of Congress, was signed by all of the members of Congress present." What really did happen on July 4, of that year of years was the final adoption of a draft of the "form of announcing the fact to the world" that independence had been decreed two days before. Jefferson had writ ten this draft in his Philadelphia apartments, consisting cf a ready-fur nishied parlor and bedroom In the new brick house of Hyman Gratz, at the southwest corner of 7th and Market streets, "on the outskirts of the city." The Penn National Bank now occupy ing the site of this dwelling, is in the very business heart of Philadelphia. WRITTEN LATE IN JULY. But the "original Declaration," which all pilgrims to Washington formerly gazed upon in awe and reverence, was not ordered written for more than two weeks after that long but unjustly hallowed July 4. On July 19, Con gress ordered that the Declaration be "fairly engrossed on parchment," and that "the same, when engrossed, be signed by every member of Congress." Some time within the next two weeks the beautiful pen work which thous ands of Americans have since mar veled at and admired was executed upon the great strip of sheepskin now locked away in the Department of State at Washington. On August 2, 1776, just a month after the real stroke of independence this great sheepskin was unrolled in the presence of the Continental Con gress, in Independence Hall, with the wording of the corrected draft it was carefully "compared at the table." This formality gone through with. it was spread out upon a desk and signed by all of the members of Con gress present. Fifty of these fathers of the republic signed on that day. Six of the revered "signers., did not affix their signatures until later dates. George Wythe of Virginia signed about August 27. Richard Henry Lee. Virginia; Eldridge Gerry. Massachu setts, and Oliver Wolcott, Connectient dId not sign until some time in sen tember. Matthy Thornton, of New Hampshire, did not add his name until November, and Thomvis McKenn of Thelawar-e. nrohablv did not affix his thep final sfrenatura nntil fivLe years later, or 1781. Matthew Thornton. by the way, was not appointed to Con gr-ess until September. and did not take his seat until Novemrbr-four months after the adoption of the Dec laration. Other signers who were not members of Congress on July 2 or 4, were allowed to sign on August 2, the general signing day. These were Benjamin Rush, James Wilson, George Ross, George Clymer and George Taylor. JUL Y FOURTH. The Day of Days Among Uncle Sam's Sailor Boys. Uncle Sam makes the Fourth of July a .greater day among his sailors than ev en Christmas. Indeed, it is the gre-ttest day for relaxation and pleasure for Jackie in the whole year. The early Secretaries of the navy established the custom and it has been almost religiously maintained invio late through the long line of officials who have succeeded them. Indepcndence day belongs to the Jackie. His -superiors recognize that his life is in some respects a hard one. To him is denied the ties of 1 family, the friendships and all the r other in~erests and diversions of life that make up the landsman's existence, I so for ti is reason Uncle Sam believes 1 that his sailors should have as many holidays as possible. To mase Independence Day the big- s gest day of all is to give the day a j special significance which cannot fail t in some degree at least to carry its lesson of patriotic duty to those who 2 serve the republic on the seas. Hence commodores and captains A always ;lan to remain in port on July 4. Then, after dressing ship, fir- U ing the national salute, and brief patri tic services, the day is given to the t men to er-joy as they see fit, discipline being almost entirely relaxed. The i sports that attend the sailors on the I Fourth of July are of a varied char- s: INDEPENDENCE HALL acter. Our naval service has, of ~ course, became affected to a consider-' able extent by the great outdoor move ment that hias converted Independence Day into the greatest sporting carni- t val of the year.c The Navy Department has wisely encouraged this tendency,, and where- ~ ever an open field is available, the piece de registance is a baseball game, e sometimes b)etween rival nines picked lI from members of the same ship,c oftener bei.ween teams representing ( different ships and in some extreme' cases between nines from separate squadrons who happen to be In ren- n dezvous nesr each other. Then there are track and field n events. TI:e fleet-footed wearers of 1 the blue show how fast they can i sprint. Nowr just what good this does them in their developments as fighters , is not clear, for even had they the t Instinct to flee and get over ground c faster than a Duffy it would do them no good at the moment when the prow of the ship was heading for a moist , trip to Davy Jones' Locker. However, they run and throw weights, jump and c pole vault. If no athletic field is available, then t the rivalry must be confined to aquatic events, swimming and rowing races. In extreme cases where it is not pos- t1 sible to get ashore or the water con ditions precluzde rowing or swimming, p the Jackles test their prowess at box- E ing, wrestling, fencing, dancing and t singing. Then the ship's larder Is drawn on t, or slch extra delicacies as trans- b forms the regular -neal into a banquet, v; and Mr. Jackie crawls Into his ham- u crock with the comfortable feeling f that July Fourth Is :. pretty big day " after all, and that he is glad to be. ible to pass it In Uncle Sam's service. i Black Hair the Strongest. d Black hair is stronaer than golden a 'resses. and will sustain almost double r he weight. Recently a scientist found, e't ay experiment, that it is possible to p msend a weight -of four ounces 'by a i. :ingle hair, provided the hair be black. si Blond hair will give way at weights raryng according to the tint. A yel- II ow hair will scarce support two onees. "' r brown will hold up three without a breaking. while one of a very dark , yrown will sustain an additional half te )unc. - - - - . t C Y d. Synopsis of preceding chapt At early dawn the country inn was l1 alive. The archer was as merry as L grig, and having kissed the matron tnd chased the maid up the ladder >nce more, he went out to the brook Lnd came back with the water dripping rcm his face and hair. "Hola! my man of peace," he cried o Alleyne, "whither are you bent this! norning?" "To Minstead. My brother Simon; dricson is socman there, and I go to ide with him for a while." The archer and Hordle John placed a and upon either shoulder and led the oy off to the board, where some moking fish, a dish of spinach, and a ug of milk were laid out for their reakfast. "I should not be surprised to learn, ion camarade," said the soldier, as he eaped a slice of the fish upon lleyne's tranchoir of bread, "that ou could read written things." , jou plfloo I ;T n9TjneaE[ ;o siatlo.V :aaq aNUTq I jetfl Sdiaas,, 'Pa.za.-ss ;;IT "It would be shame to the good beir clerk this ten years." The -bowman looked at him wi'h reat respect. "Think of that:" said e. "And you with not a hair to your 3ce, and a skin like a girl. I can oot three hundred and fifty paces 4- 1 AT PHILADELPHIA. vith my little popper there, and four tundred and .wenty with the great var-bow; yet I can make nothing of his, nor read my own name. "Why, it is written in the French ongue," said Alleyne, "and in a right lerkly hand. This is how it runs In ur speech: 'To the very powerful nd very honorable knight, Sir Nigel aoring of Christchurch, from his very1 aithful friend Sir Claude Latour, aptain of the White Company, chate ln of Buscar, grand lord of Mont hateau, and vassal to the renowned -aston, Count of Foix, who holds the ights of the high justice, the middie, nd the low." "Look at that, now!" cried the bow ian in triumph. "That is just what e would have said. You come with ie, mon gros Jean, and as to you, ttle one, where did you say that you aurneyed?" "To Minstead." "Ah, yes! I know this forest-country ell. We shall travel round with you c Minstead, lad, seeing that it is little ut of our way." As they passed the old church, hich stood upon a mound at the left and side of the village street, the door as flung open, and a stream of wor hippers wound down the sloping path, oing from the morning mass. Eleyne bent knee and doffed hat at te sight of the open door; buit ere he ad finished an Aye, his corr-ades were t of sight round the curve of the ath, and he had to run to overtake "What!" he said, "not one word of rayer before God's own open house? [ow can ye hope for his blessing upon ie day?" "My friend," said Hordle John, "I ave prayed so much during the last T'o months. not only during the day, ut at matins, lauds, and the like,1 hen I could scarce keep my head pon my shoulders for nodding, that I el that I have somewhat overprayed I tyself." "How can a man have too 1:nuch re gion?" cried Alleyne earnestly. "It the one thing that availeth. A man but a beast as he lives from dayv to 1 ay, eating and drinking, breathing nd sleeping. It is only when he ties himself, and co...aerns himrself I Ith the immortal spirit within him, I nt he becomes in very truth a man. ethink yA how sad a thing it would 3 that the hlood of the Redeemer inild be spilled to no purntose " "Bless the lad. If he doth not blush E ke any girl, and yet preac'h lik'e the hole College of Cardinals!" cried the -her. "In truth I blushed that any one so eak and so onworthy as I should try Steach another that which he finds f so passing hard to follow himself." 4 -By Kwper Cr rot era rs at end of this installment. "Prettily said, mon garcon! Touch ing that same slaying of the Redeemer, it was a bad business. A good padre in France read to us from a scroll the whole truth of the matter. The soldiers came upon Him in the Garden. Eu truth, these Apostlesof Hisimay have been holy men, but they were of no great account as men-at-arms. There was one, indeed, Sir Peter, who smote out like a true man; but, unless he is belied, he did but clip a varlet's car, which was no very knightly deed. By these ten finger-bones! had I been there, with Black Simon of Norwich, and but one' score of picked men of the 'ompany, we had held them in play. ould we do no more, we had at least Illed the false knight, Sir Judas, so 'ull of English arrows that he would :urse the day that ever he came on ;uch an errand." The young clerk smiled at his :ompanion's earnestness. "Had He wished help," he said, "He could have summoned legions of archangles from ieaven, so what need had He of your poor bow and arrow? Besides, bethink rou of His own words-that those who ive by the sword shall perish by the sword." v "Now, youngster, let things be plat and plain between us. I am a. man who shoots straight at his mark. You saw the things I had with me at ronder hostel; name which you will, 5ave the box of rose-colored sugar 7hich I take to the Lady Loring, and you shall have them if you will but :ome with me to France." "Nay," said Alleyne, "I would gladly :cme with ye to France or where else re will, just to list to your talk, and *cause ye are the only two friends bat I have in the whole wide world )utside of the cloisters; but Indeed it ray not be, for my duty is toward my :>rother, seeing that father and mother ,re dead, and he my elder. Besides, when ye talk of taking me'to France, re do not conceive how useless I should be to you, seeing that neither by training nor by nature am I fitted !or the wars, and there seems to be 'tought but strife in chose ;arts." "Bethink you again, mon ami," iuoth Aylward, "that you might. do much good yonder,, since there are ihree hundred. men In the Company, and none who has -ever a word o1 grace for them, and yet the Virgin cnows that there was never a set of men who were In more r.eed of It. Sickerly the -one duty may balance the )ther. Your brother hath done with Dut you this rnany a year, and, as I gather, he hath never walked as far as Beaulieu to see you during all that time, so he cannot be in any great need Df you." "Besides," said John, "the Socman of Minstead is a byword through the Corest, from Bramshaw Hill to Holmes ley Walk. He is a drunken; brawling, perilous churl, as you may find to your cost." "The more reason that I should strive to mend him," quoth Alleyne. "There is no need to urge me, friends, for my own wishes would draw me to France, and it would be a joy to me c-ould I go with you. But indeed and indeed ft cannot be, so here I take my leave of you, for yonder square tower amongst the trees upon the right must surely be the church of Minstead, and [ may reach it by this path through the woods." "Well, God be with thee, lad!" cried the archer, pressing Alleyne to his tieart. "I am quick to love, and quick to hate, and 'fore God I am loath to part. Yet It may be as well that you should know whither we go. We shall now journey south through the woods until we come out upon the Christ :huroha road, and so onward, hopin~g to-night to reach the castle of Sir William Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, >f which Sir Nigel Loring is constable. I'here we shall bide, and it is like mough that for a month or more you mnay find us there, ere we are ready ~or our voyage back to France." It was hard indeed for Alleyne to break away from these two new but miearty friends, and so strong was the :cmbat between his conscience and his inclinations that he, dared not look round, lest his resolution should slip away from him. The path which the young clerk had now to follow lay through a magnifi :ent forest of the very heaviest timber. where the giant boles of oak and of beech formed long aisles in every di rectio'n. shooting up their huge branches to build the majestic arches af Nature's own cathedral. It was very still there in the heart of the w'oodlands. The gentle rustle of the branches and the distant cooing of pigeons were the only sounds which aroke in upon the silence, save that nce Alleyne heard afar off a merry :all upon a hunting bugle and the thrill yapping of the hounds. He pushed on the quicker, twirling his staff merrily, and looking out at every urn of the path for some sign of the >1d Saxon residence. He was suc~enly trrested, however, by the appearance >f a wild-looking fellow armed with a ~lub, who sprang out from behind a ree and barred his passage. He was rough, powerful peasant, with cap tnd tunic of untanned sheepskin, eather breeches, and galllgaskins ound his legs and feet. "Stand!" he shouted, raising his leavy cudgel to enforce the order. 'Who are you who walk so freely brouc-h the wood?" Whither would roi ego, and what is your errand?" "Why should T answer your ques tons, my friend?" said Alleyne, stand nw on his guard. "Because vour tongue may save 'cm' pate. What hast in the scrip?" "Nought of any price." "How can I tell that, clerk? ZLet mq "Not I." "Wonil! I could pu'1 voui limb from nib like a pullet. Wouldst lose scrIp *nd life too?" - "I will part with neither without a ~ght." -". fight, quotha.? A fight betwixt