The Abbeville messenger. (Abbeville, S.C.) 1884-1887, April 27, 1886, Image 3
!/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*.