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