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Probably there Is no other woman so un
iversally disliked and execrated, says the
New Orleans Picayune, as the woman who
has contracted the borrowing habit. We
all know her. We have all been her vic
tims, for she has all times, and seasons,
and neighborhoods for her own, and
though you journey to the uttermost
parts of the eaith you shall not escape her
Importunities. She is one of the pests of
society, and the wonder is that in a world
too full of laws we have not yet found
any way to abate her as art unmitigated
nuisance.
Apparently she never provides herself
with any of the necessities of lift, how
ever much she may flaunt the luxurb s
before your face. Indeed, the time comes
when you are forced to the conclusion
that her borrowing habit is nothing more
or less than a kind of blackmail she
levies on the neighborhood in order to
spend her money on show, and not on
plain, every-day living. At any rale, a
familiar and monotonous figure in your
kitchen soon comes to be her servant
or child with the request, “Mrs. B. says
will you please lend a cup of sugar, or
a lltte coffee, or some baking powder,
or a teaspoon of vanilla." Of course, you
lend It to her. Sometimes she pays it
back, generally in an inferior article,
oftenesl you never hear of it again. Now,
the question of generosity doesn’t enter
Into the matter at all. You might, and
would be delighted to give it outright to
her if she needed it, but it is troublesome
to have to go and get things out, and
equally troublesome to put them away
again if they are returned, and with fatal
persistency the borrower always sends
Just at the most Inconvenient time, when
you want least to he interrupted.
Naturally, the borrower always has her
nerve, as the slang goes, along with her.
She doesn't hesitate to send over and
borrow your new waist to see how the
trimming is put on, or your patterns be
fore you have used them, or your papers
and magazines before you get a chance
to look over them. These are so many
economies she permits herself at your
expense. Then, If you happen to have the
misfortune to be staying In the same
house with her, she borrows your stamps,
and your- fine stationery, and you soon
Come to know that If your perfume, or
eny little belonging is missing, you can
hunt it up and locate it in her rooms.
"You ore so good-natured I knew you
wouldn't errr,’’ the siys sweetly, ‘ mi |
just happened to be out,' as if she wasn’t
eternally out of everything she ought to
have.
Worst of all the borrowing fiends is the
one who borrows your clothes. On the
slightest acquaintance she will presume
to borrow your new cape, or your picture
hat, and friendship with her is simply
purchased at the expense of your entire
wardrobe.
The Haggard In Love.—From Puck—
I give you a key to my heart,” sni-1 she
"So come when you will and unlock it;
Your key is just this” (and she offered a
kiss);
"Don't let it wear holes in your pocket!”
Two days flitted by ere I ventured to try
My luck in that storehouse of blisses-
I tried the new key she had given to me
But, lo! she rejected all kisses.
lou re really so slow,” she yawned,
don't you know—
Or were you away on vacation?
I knew your key'd rust, and—you don't
mind, I trust—
I'Ve altered the combination!”
It really seems, says the New Orleans
Time*-Democrat, that in climbing io a
higher plane of right woman is mounting
a sand hiil that has a peculiarly loose dis
position to slide under her feel. A case I
have heard of betokens this. A Mrs. R
had a pet $l5O dog anil another brute, her
husband. Had this second been sunstruck
or otherwise assisted to die, she could
have borne up bravely under the lioreave
ment, replaced the red riblions on the
dog s neck and tail with decorous rem
nants of her own crape and placidly
hoped that the deceased was having a*
calm a time in the next world as she was
in this.
But cruel Fate decretal otherwise, which,
the fact that the dog was the idol of her
heart, serves to explain: It was her lit
t.e god spelt backward, her constant com
panion. which had been shorn in part so
us to resemble some other animal as yet
unfamiliar to natural history; and had a
coverlet and an appropriate iid-bits, a silk
coverlet and an appropriate baik to which
its tail lieat time. He escorted her when
out of doors, and was as much attached
to her by a silver chain as to feel himself
to be her very cavalier—ami liked nothing
better save the toothsome caramel.
But some misunderstanding arose be
tween this pet and the husband—they
omitted to speak save in a growl, and the
latter, failing to recall that "Love me,
love my dog," was a vital clause in the
marriage vow to which he had declared
"I will,” permitted his petulent foot to
collide one morning with the darling,
which thereupon sped to its mistress yelp
ing its grievance. The resentment of the
wroth wife was shown for several days,
in a tranquil unconsciousness that the ag
gressor existed, and when dumbness shuts
down the. safety-valve of her siK-eeh n wo
man Is In something like a dynamite stage
of feeling, us you know by experience.
Irritated by her large storage of reserve
and persuaded that it was all due to the
dog, he lay in wait for li, feloniously
seized It, bore it from the house and gave
it away to some unknown persons, but
■with probable instructions to give it u
nice both and brick.
Do you know that that woman has
sought the Court of Common Pleas and
the inhuman judge decided that the hus
band was at entire liberty to bestow a
kick upon the dog whenever lie pleased:
nay, that the town officers would “pound”
It, too. If found astray, and that she had
no remedy whatever; and this, mark you.
after all the bland assurance of man that
woman is his equal" and that her tender
susceptibilities and other property should
be put beyond his control.
And now that woman thinks of her lost
cue. unkempt and stimulating its de-
jected life by collecting either food from
ash barrels or vulgar fleas from bad com
pany, and she recalls with reverence the
forty-nine Danaides who murdered their
husbands at Argos.
Woman's Sigh for a Pocket—Carolyn
Wells, In Jamestown Kvening Journal—
How dear to this heart are the old-fash
ioned dresses,
When fond recollection presents them to
view!
In fancy I see the old wardrobes and
presses,
Which held the loved gowns that in
girlhood I knew;
The wldespreading mohair, the silk that
hung by it;
The straw-colorc-d satin,'with trimmings
of brown;
The ruffled foulard, the pink organdie nigh
it";
But, oh, for the pocket that hung in each
gown!
The old-fashioned pocket, the obso
lete pocket.
The praiseworthy pocket that hung
in each gown.
That dear, roomy pocket, I'd hail as a
treasure,
Could I but behold it in gowns of to-day;
I’d find it the source of an exquisite pleas
ure,
But all my modistes sternly answer me
“Nay!’’
'Twould be so convenient, when going out
stepping.
'Twould hold my small purchases com
ing from town;
And always my purse or my kerchief I'm
dropping—
Oh me! for the pocket that hung in
my gown.
The old-fashioned pocket, the obso
lete icket,
The praiseworthy pocket that hung
in my gown.
A gown with a pocket! How fondly I’d
guard it!
Each day, ere I'd don. It, I'd brush It
with care;
Not a full Paris costumo could make me
discard it,
Though trimmed with the laces an Em
press might wear.
But I have no hope, for the fashion is
banished;
The tear of regret will my fond visions
drown;
As fancy reverts to the days that have
vanished,
I sigh for the pocket that hung in my
gown.
The old-fashioned pocket, the obso
lete pocket,
The praiseworthy pocket that hung
in my gown.
The story, says the New York Times, Is
told for an actual fact, and the relator
is noted for her veracity*. It took place
at a large boarding house, which is the
temporary home of a great many very
nice people. On this particular occasion
they were gathered In the dining room for
dinner, and the colored waiters were, as
usual at such a time, doing their best to
edify the guests with the most obsequious
servfce. Ben, in particular, was most at
tentive. Ben was not a regular, but, one
of the regular waiters being away for a
time, he was substituting. And he did
his best.
As the dinner progressed, it was enliv
ened from outside by the strong and not
unmusical notes of a piano organ.
“What a pretty tune!" exclaimed Mrs.
Blank, a sweet-faced, white haired, elder
ly woman, as a familiar melody i>enetrat“d
the room. "I wonder what tt is?” Then
she speedily forgot the music and her re
mark. But Ben did not.%
Waiting for a leisure moment, he slipped
outside to ask the piano,organ music mak
er for the name of that particular tune.
Presently Mrs. Blank heard Ben's voice at
l*er elbows speaking in low, but very dis
tinct tones. He was speaking to her:
"All coons look alike to me." said Ben.
"What?” said Mrs. Blank, a little star
tled by the suddenness of the remark.
"All coons look alike to me, ma'am.”
repented Ben, respectfully.
A bewildered look crept over Mrs.
Blank's face. Did her ears deceive her.
was she crazy, or had Ben lost his mind?
“I dont—l don’t understand,” she gasp
ed.
“It was the tune, ma'am, you wished to
know what it was," said Ben with a tone
of reproach in his voice. Then there was
■i sudden and spontaneous burst of laugh
ter from the listening roomful, and Ben
never could understand why his little act
of thoughtfulness should have caused
such amusement.
To Elsie, or Why We Don't Marry—From
Harlem Life.
Your foot is the tiniest that trips, love.
Thro' the maddening maze of the waltz;
Two blossoming buds are your lips, Jffve,
Your eyes say your heart is not false.
Your hands are so dainty and white, love,
Your figure so wondrously tine.
That I'm tempted almost, but not quite,
love.
To ssv I adore you!—be mine!
But, no! there's a frightening fear, love,
That will not allow me to speak,
You’re spending three thousand a year,
love,
I'm making twelve dollars a week.
She is as plain as a -pipestem in her
dress.
To this comment, says the Philadelphia
Record, uttered In u most contemptuous
tone, I replied: I sincerely admire the
good sense that prompts a woman belong
ing to tlie middle classes to dress quietly.
Her sogfal grade calls for only the sim
plest ipodes. You cannot deny that the
subject of your criticism is always pre
sentable, no matter where she goes or
with whom she Is thrown.
My defense did nbt please. 1 could see
that I wns (egarded as decidedly "queer."
This, howefer, rarely deters me from
speaking my mind. I certainly felt im
pelled to do so on this occasion.
The evil of our day is overdressing. This
evil as a rule I do not find among rich
women, hut In the midst of those of my sex
who ar>‘ busy aping their wealthier sisters.
Limited incomes are responsible for the
constant appearance of gowns, hats,
wraps, that become tawdry simply because
of their environments. This must of ne
•oessity he so, for the woman of average
means has by comparison sparse opportu
nities for dress display.
Her inordinate vanity refuse's to admit
this. When she buys on elaborate article
of dress it is done with but one object <n
view—nnmely, o find In her mirror an
Image that plea-es her.
She does not stop to consider how this
bit of extravagance is to be fitted into her
every-day surroundings. She squeezes and
pinches in every conceivable way to get
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JANUARY 23. 1898.
together a costnme that must be put to
severely practical uses, and It lias been
modeled, mind you, after a creation de
signed to figure only at elaborate func
tions.
The fussy original, a very stunning toilet,
appears at a swell luncheon, a fashionable
reception or in some place frequented by
exclusives; the copy switches Ps way
through the shops and along crowded
thoroughfares, stamping the wearer with
every swirl of its draperies are unrefined.
No use to beat about the bush. We
women Judge each other by the way we
clothe ourselves. Often the judgment is
unfair, Indeed, downwright cruel, and
should not be allowed a leg to stand upon.
But stand It does, and ofien to our com
plete undoing.
There is, says the Philadelphia Times, a
new thing “just come over,” called the
“Swiss Beauty,” and that just describes
it. The fabric is a trifle more sheer than
Swiss, and is, too, more durable. It has
the correct l'nes that cross and break into
squares and is singular for its embroidered
flowers. Masses of wisteria or locust clus
ter here and there over It. all embroidered,
not stamped, upon the goods, und it is on
this account a good investment, for it will
wash and wash, and still look new.
That brings me to the subject of the
care of nil these dainty < )#thes. They
cannot and will not stand the damp or any
crushing. Only- when fresh are they pret
ty, and they lie kept fresh?
There is a very sure way of doing it, but
it Is trouble. You must have a clean sheet,
sponge and gum arable; also that miracle
cleaner, gasoline.
Length by length stretch out the soiled
breadths and sponge clean w-ith gasoline;
let them dry and then sponge with weak
gum water. Keep them stretched, as Is
done with lace curtains, during all the
processes of cleaning, and when they are
dry it is chip dry white. You will find the
stuff crisp, glossy and fresh.
“Trouble ?”
Well, after all, not more so than to wash,
dry, starch and iron, only different, that id
all, and requiring strict cleanliness
throughout.
We were sitting around the samovar,
says a writer in the New Orleans Times-
Democrat, and one woman spoke.
“I have just met that lovely Mme. X.,”
she said enthusiastically, and we ail set
tled more comfortably to listen.
The semi-invalid grunted. “Oh, don't
rave. It's so much more amusing to roast
people."
“But I have been awaiting an opportuni
ty for a year, to really get acquainted with
young Mme. X.,” returned the spontane
ous creature, “and to know her is to em
phasize one's impressions of her. She is
a dream. She dresses so well; she is ami
ability itself; she speaks adoringly of her
husband and her babies, and she doesn’t
pretend to be a deep woman—ln fact, she
is simply perfect. I never feel honored
with an acquaintance, but I confess that
I now experience an analogous sensation
at the proffer of hers."
I glanced over at the sincerest of wo
men, who seemed to be flushed and who
was so mute that she looked sphinxy.
Knowing her to be a neighbor of young
Mme. X., I wondered that she did not Join
in the conversation. After the others had
disppeared, all save the semi-invalid, the
sincere woman and myself, she the first
designated grunted again. “Come now,”
she whispered, settling herself on the di
van, "let us roast Mme. X., since we are
each other’s bosom intimates and are
ready- to swear to eternal secrecy.”
“One half of the world knows nothing
about the other half.” she began, “which
is a true platitude. Emma is such a dear
simpleton, taking everybody at face value.
How is she to know that Mme. X. Is a
cheat and an impostor in every relation
of life? That sounds dreadful, doesn't it?
She treats her husband worse than she
would dare to treat her cook. 1 have
seen him clap his hat on with a sort of
reckless desperation and have heard her
voice haranguing him till he was out of
sight—she rages so that she forgets, oft
times, that she is girt by a neighborhood.
Her children have not been bathed in a
year. Oh, don’t exclaim, it IS every word
true. I have been in her house when the
poor tols would straggle in without her
knowing it, and as late as you like in the
day the sleep has not been washed out of
their eyes. I have observed one pair of
green plaid stockings on the little boy for
ten days at a time—not the same pair? Oh,
yes, my dear, with the self-sume hole,
growing larger day- by day, just under the
left knee. Week in and week out those
children are kept indoors without the sun
shine or pure air or the light that even
the ilttle human flowers require for
growth. Sometimes a slatternly servant
will take them to the grocery store in the
neighborhood, their poor little heads mat
ted. their sweet faces streaked with dirt,
their guinea-blue smocks absolutely chang
ing color from grease and tilth—l won't
vouch for njy servant's statement that
these children are put to bed and taken
up in the morning In those dresses and
with those unclean hands und faces—and,
as l said, when they go to the grocery!
even the little dago girl on the corner holds
her little print dress aside lest it be de
filed by contact as they pass her. The
little Xsos are really pretty children, al
though It tikes lye and pumice-stone to
find it out. And such pretty little forms
they have, too; but their petKconts arc
too forbidding for one to enjoy the obser
vation of their well-shaped limbs.
"i know Mrs. X. to Im* idle, because
whenever I have looked from my window
1 have seen a movement behind her shut
ters; 1 sit always awaiting a husband
with some fancy work with win
dows w ide open when the allo w s.
Site wears her loose, untidy al
ways, even when her husband Is m home
of an everting; but oh, what she expects
company or goes to anything! Such a
transformation of her yellow parchment
to a roseate complexion! Such a change
in her figure, in her bearing, in her ami
ability, even in her voice! That is the
woman, then, that our friend enthuses
about. And I will not be the woman to
tell her what decayed self-respect dies in
that whited sepulchre.”
It Is a disagreeable, but almost statisti
cal fact, that there are more lazy moth
ers and degenerate housekeepers in New
Orleans than in most other Southern cit
ies; ydt there was a time wiien in every
department of the home Southern woman
hood ranked foremost.
Where are the mothers of a score of
years since?
"I know what I am talking about,” re
marked a member of congress to a Wash
ington Stur reporter, "when I say that
congressman has troubles of his own. It's
a fine thing to be a statesman and show
up in the national parade of greatness at
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the capital, but there’s a good deal more
to it than (hat. And one of the things
that is hardest to bear is what they say
about us. Why l ; a lady can't come up to
her and ask to see a member that there
aren't a half, sjozen people to wink and
shake the head and a lot more of the
same to make him wish all the women
were in hades. Of course, there is some
ground among us for remarks, just as
there is among preochers and doctors,
and hod carriers and everybody else hu
man, and I know a woman or two who
find their chief delight in trying to involve
congressmen and other officials in any
kind of a flirtation that comes handy.
They are pretty and persuasive, and be
fore a roan knows what he is about he'
is down in the Senate restaurant paying
for a lunch and listening to some kind of
of a tale of woe.
"But they miss it now- and then, and I
am gl tp nsue an 'instance which oc
curred only a day of two ago. A mem
ber from a Northern stale had been in
vited to call at a lady's hotel the next
day, and she had asked him <o let her
know if he could come. He wrote, saying
among other things: ‘To-morrow, madam,
I hope* to see the loveliest woman in the
whole world..’ Naturally she was pleased
nnd told all the people around the hotel
about it. The next day he did not appear,
and the next she saw him at the capitol
nnd asked him what he meant by treating
her so.
“ 'What did I do?’ he asked innocently.'
" 'You said you were coming to see mo,’
she said, blushing at the remembrance of
his words
“ ‘I think not.’
" ‘lndeed you did,’ she Insisted. ‘You
said you would see the loveliest woman in
the world,’ and she blushed again.
’’ ‘Oil, I bog your pardon,’ he said, smil
ing. ’I meant my wife. She just arrived
yesterday.
”1 like a lady what does what she says
she’s goin' ter." was one of the com
ments, says the New York Tribune, over
heard on a street corner where n couple
of servant girls were standing, discussing
their respective “places." Domestics, as
a rule, resent omissions, more even than
exactions. To require a metil at a certain
hour and then keep it waiting, to order
the carriage at one time and then change
for another,' etc., seems to upset them
more than double the amount of work
done in a regular way, even although mi
lady’s change of mind does not really add
to their tasks, the philosophy doubtless
being that such vagaries emphasize the
difference in caste, the luxury of changing
one’s mind being permitted permitted only
to the leisure class. Calling one afternoon
on the "day" printed on the card of a
certain great lady, a visitor was informed
that Mrs. was "not at 'ome, ’m." "But
Is this not her day?” queried the caller.
"Yet, It Is, ’m,” was the answer. "Are
the young ladles In?” persisted the vis
itor. who felt loath to relinquish the cup
of hot tea which she had expected to be
rogniled with, and thoughi th£t some of
the family at least must he representing
the hostess,.
"No’m, they hare hall hout," replied
.Teenies Yellowplush, and then his aggriev
ed feelings getdng the better of him—
'and ladies a-callin’ nt hevery minute!
Just see the cards, ma’am”—showing a
pile of pasteboards—“and me a hexplainln’
and hexplaUlin', with nothin’ to hexplain!”
S, Half the women In the new Now York
nowadays seem to he nervous almost to
the verge of hysterics. If this tendency
keeps on Increasing os it has increased la
the last ton years, says the New York
Sun. it will be a very short time before
womankind is all nerves. Nine women
out of ten, if questioned, will frankly con
fess that they fall to crying without any
reason for tears whatever; that the desire
frequently comes to them to scream at ihe
top of their lungs; that they often long
to go away to some place where there
isn't so much as a song bird to break the
silence. Of course, a woman in this con
dition wouldn’t stay in such a place long,
because she has sunk into the realms of
sensation and must have change. If she
does not have change she will'aciuajly
become hysterical or collaose phvstfaily
and mentaliy, just as the farmer** wife
does because she lives at the other ex
treme of the belt of life. Her path is a
treadmill of monotony, and she finds her
self just as nervous as her city sister,
but she is nervous in a different way. and
she declares that she is only “ailing a mite
and nothing more or less."
When asked if the. reason for so much
nervousness in women is not largely the
result of so much noise, Dr. George F
Shrady said:
“It is said that one of the balances of
culture is the absence of noise, and an
evidence of culture is that people should
not give way to any feeling or emotion.
Half or two-thirds of the women nowadays
are nervous to the verge of hysterics, and
this tendency is increasing. It is true that
this condition is largely the result of noise
or rather the result of the repression of
feeling. Think how shocked everybody In
n street car would be if every woman in
the car screamed when the gong clanged
ami clanged and clanged unnecessarily, as
it frequently does. Anti yet nearly all tno
women who travel in cat* feel like doing
that. This constant repression has its bad
effect on men as well as on women, but
men aren’t so delicately organized, so sen
sitive to sound, and so on.
The Silent Tongue.—From the Chicago
News—
Mary had a little tongue
That never spoke a word,
And as ‘Mary was quite talkative
This statement seems absurd.
To school one day she took it,
Within a sandwish white;
And all the children did exclaim:
"Oh, say, give us a bite!”
The cigarette habit is growing at an
alarming rate among New York women
"We sell an average of five ladies’ cigar
ette cases a day,” said a silversmith who
makes a specialty of them. "Three years
ago a woman who smoked had to content
herself with a man’s case. The newest de
sign for men and women is made of cork
and mounted in silver or gold. This tnakea
a stunning case when studded with rubles
emeralds, amethysts or carbuncles. For a
long time both men and wopien have com
plained that they found the metal ease*
too heavy and too thick. The new cork
case is as light almost as a feather, is
made very thin, and one side is concave
so as to fit comfortably against the body
when carried in the inside coat pocket
By touching a spring a cigarette is push
ed up so that the smoker can readily re
move it. The cases for ladies are not
more than one-half the size of those for
men. They come high, hut the dear girls
who smoke must have ’em."
You've heard ulioiit the pitiable condi
tion of the millionaire who had such dread
ful corns on his hands from h s coupon
cutting scissors, of course, hut perhaps
you haven’t heard about a certain Wash
ington woman whose wealth is almost as
much of a burden to her, says a writer
in the Post. She lives in a beautiful house
out on Sixteenth street, and a woman I
know went to see her once upon a time
on business one morning. The lady te
ceived the visitor, but apologized for her
appearance. She hadn’t her false front
on, and she was wearing a dressing sack.
"You really must cxcqse me," ’she
“but I’ve been so busy I really haven't
time to dress.”
"Busy?” echoed the business woman,
surprised to find that wealth does not
bring leisure.
“Oh, dear, yes,” returned the lady of
the house. “I’m always so busy the first
of the month signing checks that 1 haven’t
'time for anything else.”
A New Y'ork doctor, noted for his skill
in treating women, says that to every
woman who dies of cold In the head and
Us consequent jlls three die cf cold in the
feet. He says ihat nine out of ten colds
are caught through the ankles, and that
if the ankles were always kept warm and
well protected there would he a great de
crease in sniffing and sneezing. Women
must have found this out, observes a pa
per published in that city, because they
are wearing sabers this winter more than
they have since the barbarous time when
even delicate consumptives insisted upon
wearing low slices through the severest
weather. The newest gaiter is roodhsh in
the extreme, heavy ribbed silk being the
favorite material. The gaiter is cut so high
that it com. s up at least four inches above
the top of the ordinary walking boot, and
runs up to a pretty point behind. It is
lined with thin wool, and buttons snugly
about the instep. Black Is the favorite
eoior, but those who do not wear over a
No. ! A or B boot can Wear the pretty
soft shades in tan and mode and feel sure
that their feet look both swell and small.
It is en acknowledged fact, says the
New York Ledger, that a great age Is at
tained by women oftener than by men.
One of the most famous female centena
rians was the Countess of Desmond, who
lived to he 145 years old, and died In the
reign of James I from the effects of an ac
cident. This wonderful woman found her
self, at the age of 100, so lively and strong
as to be able to take part In a dance; and
nil. n she was 140 she traveled from Bris
tol to London—no trilling- journey in those
days—in order to attend personally to
some business affairs.
Lady Desmond is, however, quite thrown
In the shade by a French woman, Marie
Prion, who died at St. Colombe, it Is said,
at the wonderful age of 150. Toward the
end of life she lived exclusively on goat’s
milk and cheese. Although her body was
so shruhk that she weighed orily 4fi pounds,
she retained all her mental faculties to the
last.
It is an extraordinary,! out incontestihle
fact, that some women uf the age when
most people die undergo a sort of natural
process of rejuvenation—hair and teeth
grow again, the wrinkles disappear from
the skin, and sight and hearing reacquire
their former sharpness.
A Marquise de Mirabeau is an example of
this rare and remarkable phenomenon.
She died at the age of &6, hut a few years
before her death she became in appearance
quite young again. The some change hap
pened to a nun of the name of Marguerite
Verdur, who, at the age of 62, lost her
wrinkles, regained her sight, and grew
several new teeth. When she died, ten
years later, her appearance was almost
that of a young girl.
A frankness that is almost brutal, says
the New York Tribune, seems to pass cur
rent in society for up-to-date smartness,
and the language that is now used by cer
taip society people among themselves is
sometimes only a little short of billings
gate, while "swear words” seem to have
lost their awfulness, and are used almost;
as freely by women as by men. It is cur
ious how “gentility,” both as a word and
quality, has disappeared. Fashionable
lieoplo are distinctly no longer “genteel. ’
They may on occasions be high bred, hut
the mincing propriety of the belles an!
beaus of yore has entirely disappeared. In
a well-known society novel written fifteen
or twenty years ago, which was a presum
ably correct delineation of the manners
and habits of the fashionable life of that
time, two heroines play their roles. One,
a Vere de Vere, with the correct speeea
and manners of her caste, and the otlnr
a suddenly exalted bourgeoise, who g *
through the asocial fires of criticism and ex
periences before she emerges pur.' goß*
from the ordeal. Oddly enough, to-da.v ths
type might be reversed; it is the bourgeoise
who is “high-toned,” and the Vere ue 5 ere
who Is a slangy hoyden.
The pearl, says Table Talk, is perfect
in itself, art can add to it no new luster,
and every effort to improve It has resulted
only in marring It. The formation of the
pearl can be likened to a human tooth. It
it; covered with three layers similar <•>
enamel, and so long as these are un
broken the pearl Is not readily injured,
but the slightly piercing of the enamel
envelope and rapid decay sots in. A
perfect pearl is one that is evenly spheri
cal, free from the minutest flaw, and wit'
a sheen like rich satin. There is *
quaint rabbinical legend that Illustrates
the esteem in which pearls were wont io
beheld, only one object in nature heir?
rated above them:“On approaching KgJ'Pt
Abraham ioeked Sarah in a chest a
order that none might behold her datiget'
ous beauty. But when he was conn i®
the place of paying customs the collec
tor said, ’Pay us the custom,’ and he said.
‘I will pay the custom.’ They said 10
him, ‘Thou carriest clothes?’ and he said.
’I will pay for clothes.’ Then they said
to him, ‘Thou carriest gold?’ and he an;
swered them, ‘I will pay for my goal-
On this they further said to him. s in
ly, thou bearest the finest silk?’ and lie re
plied, ‘I will pay custom for the (ic J
silk.’ Then said they, ’Surely, it t u “
be pearls that thou talsest with thee,
and he only answered. ‘I will pay t" 11
pearls.’ Seeing that, they could name noth
ing of value for which the patriarch wa*
not willing to pay custom, they said, it
cannot be. but open thou the box ari l le;
us see what Is within.’ So they opened
the box and Ihe whole land of Bgyp‘ " :i:)
illumined by the luster of Sarah’s heath'
—far exceeding even that of pearls. 1
Is most curious to learn, that precious
stones are capable of contracting certain
diseases, which affect them much as the>
would human Ijelngs. Pearls are pecu
liarly susceptible, and are known to l’®
the victims of incurable maladies that
cause them to crack and eventually i0
break. Belhg composed entirely of car
bonate of lime, they perceptibly feel even
slight temperature changes. Mere hand
ling will often lessen their luster, a n '
nacklaces of pearls worn close to the skin
have been known to change color through
the acid contained in the perspiration. ■
touch of any corroding acid will ruin
pearl Irretrievably, and one dropped into
fire at ordinary red heat will be spi ■ ,|IJ
reduced to a mere sprinkle of lime dust.
—’*Ah,” said the salmon, shuddering!,
as lie slipped back into the river, “I really
feel uncanny.”—lnuianapoiis Journal.