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“My ta*te for economy I•bringing mo to
the ragged edge of ruin," mi id the girl in
gray, according to a writer in the Chicago
Times Herald, as she tried to snuggle her
chapped and red right hand out of sight
un<ler the sofa pillow. “Oh. I never yet
tried to be saving that it wasn't a fnore
expensive proceeding than rampant waste
fulness. I recollect once l>cing very self
denying and giving up a visit because it
would cost $2.50 for a return railway tick
et. A month afterward 1 found that 1
really must make that visit, but I was
then a much longer distance off, and my
ticket cost me $10.35, without parlor car
or luncheon fares counted in.”
“1 know,'' murmured her confidante, “I
never yet went without luncheon when
downtown but I got so hungry that 1
squandered twice the amount of lunch
money in a good big box of candy. Econ
omy is the most expensive of luxuries."
“It is," said the first speaker. “Here is
u fresh instance of it. 1 went downtown
yesterday with anew pair of gloves on.
When the snow began to drizzle down 1
took the gloves off for fear they would
spoil and carried them in my hands. Yes,
it was cold, and 1 could feel the chaps
spreading on my fingers as I grasped
tight hold of my gloves and parcels. Well,
I got home with the bundles, but the
gloves must have dropped en louie. So
t here’s another $1.75 gone through being so
obstrusively economical.''
“Why didn't you put your gloves in your
pocket?” asked the third girl, in a matter
of-fact way.
Tiie first girl looked rather foolish. “To
tell the truth,” she stammefid, “I have so
many pockets in this tailor suit that 1
don’t dare put anything away lor tear of
losing it. Anyhow, what good are pockets
in a woman’s gown—they just look awful
if they are filled. They bulge so."
“That reminds me," said the third girl,
“of a time 1 had making a trip from Lake
wood to Philadelphia. I had to pass the
little station of Tom’s River, where sundry
of my relatives and friends abide, and as i
knew they would positively find out if 1
•went through without stopping and be
angry and naggy about it after the pleas
ant manner of friends and relatives as
long as we ail should live, why, 1 con
cluded, at a good deal of inconvenience, o
clamber off and stay over night. My train
left at 6 o’clock the mxt morning—a cold,
miserable, winter morning, and l just got
into a cab and drove to the station alone.
Then I walked to the ticket seller’s win
dow and began to reach back in my pocket
for my purse. Now, that was a tailor*
made gown, but the tailor had insisted
that, there was no other place for th<*
pocket but In the placquet hole. Conse
quently, I rarely used it. One needs io do
a good deal of groping to find anything In
that sort of a pocket. Besides, it is un
comfortable when one sits down. This par
ticular morning, however, for some l inex
plicable reason, I had pul my purse in my
pocket, probably because my hands were
tilled with bundles and the small, slippery,
slab-sided packages which relatives usu
ally present to the unhappy traveler. Of
course, 1 couldn’t find the purse. 1 didn’t
really quite expect to the first time, so
watched the railway clerk punch the
leket and fail inio an altitude of agoniz
ed patience, and didn’t much mind. Then
1 carefully deposited five of my parcels
on the ticket window’s lodge, nearly ob
literating the clerk as 1 searched anew for
my purse, and a slim line of people began
io gather behind m. Not meeting with
any real success it occurred io me that I
had better retreat into the waiting-room,
deposit m.v parcels and gloves and get to
work in earnest. 1 did so, and just then
the train arrived and matters became ex
citing. By this lime 1 could feel the
purse, could grab the pocket, but, alack! I
< ould not open it. Some adverse fate had
that morning coused me to twist t(ie thing
Inside out, so that, as you will/ under
stand. the mouih of it turned inward.
There was no lime to lose. 1 walked over
to the ticket seller and turned solemnly
around. ‘Here,* I said, ‘is a pocket, and
yon can plainly see the outline of a purse
in it. Now, I can’t find the opening to
that pocket nor get at that purse, but if
you can I am willing lo pay a bonus on a
ticket.' ”
"What diil he do'.”’
“Oh. he was n discreet young man. and
rose to the occasion. ‘l'll take you Into
the oar,' he said, 'and tell the conductor
how much you ought to pay. It will give
you a chance to lind your pocket by the
time you reach Philadelphia.’,’’
“And how far oft was that?”
“Just two hours and a half.”
“But what is the moral? Never to have
pockets, or to have pockets for ornament
only? Or to eschew feminine garments
and wear clothes which even pockets Can
not cause to look uglier? Does it come
to this, or ’
"Choose your own morals, and point
them as you like. As for rr.e, 1 now carry
my purse in my hand, and brave sneak
thieves and ‘snatchers’ at every step. But
on the whole. I (ind it safer and less exas
perating than the refuge of a pocket."
N. B.—lf you wish further conversation
either on the subject of economy or i>oek
ets, apply to Mrs. Hetty Green, who econ
omized on a $2 sleeper ticket, dozed in the
discomfort of a day car, and had her pock
et picked of SBO. It seems possible that
women may tilt too hard cither at the win
dowsill of economy or the privileges of
pockets, and achieve too much of each to
be happy.
That the mind of woman moves in a
mysterious way Its wonders to perform,
has long been recognized by the thinking
few who have attempted to follow it in
its flight, says Dorothy Dix in the New
Orleans Picayune, but the fact has re
cently had a curious illustration in a di
vorce case that has come up in a Texas
court. A woman who had been married
to a man for thirty-eight years, and who
had, as far as her husband or friends
knew, been reasonably happy and content,
suddenly left him. She gave as her rea
son for going that before she was mar
ried she had been in dove with a young
man who had died, and that the longer
she lived with her husband the more con
vinced she became that she preferred the
man she didn't marry, and so she packed
up her things end left.
It is not to be supposed that a mere
man can follow (he intricate chain of
this kind of unreasoning, but every mar
ried woman will know Just how It is, For
no mutter how good end kind a husband
we may have, there are still times and
reasons or domestic stress when we all
secretly regret the man we didn't marry.
There may be many good reasons why we
didn't marry him. Sometimes he didn’t
ask us to. sometimes there wasn’t any
other man at all, sometimes we had u
hard-hearted father who Used good, old
fashioned coercion io keep us from wreck
ing cur lives by making an idiotic match.
Occasionally we had a gleam of common
sens.' ourselves in time to prevent our
making a fool of ourselves by marrying
the other fellow. It doesn’t matter. In
the mellow haze of distance he looms up
with charms he never possessed, and at
tractions that were not his due. He is
the Carcassonne of human beings.
In all good truth, the man we didn’t
marry Isn’t a man at all. He is a dream,
a figurehead, that stands for a woman's
ideal of what a perfect husband ought to
be, and generally isn't. He is the John we
married with a halo, and without "ways,”
a masculine angel in a dress suit, with a
temper that is never ruffled when dinner is
late or the bills beyond reason. He is al
ways and invariably unparalleled perfec
tion, the man we didn’t marry.
Of course, we are not saying a word
against the man we did marry. Dear
John is the best fellow on earth, and if it
wero to come down to a plain business
proposition we wouldn’t trade him off for
any man alive. Still there’s no denying
lljat he is trying at time, and It is then
that we lake a melancholy satisfaction in
thinking how different life might have
been had we only married the man we
didn’t.
For one thing we are sure the other one
would have understood us. He would
have known we were a profound and in
strutable mystery. John doesn't. It has
never occurred to him that we have vague
yearning afier the whatness of the what
and the intangible generally, that we mem
orize poetry, and In ihe secrecy of our own
apartments have recited scenes from Mac
beth that made the cat howl and run un
der the bed. John is strictly practical and
absorbed In business, and there wouldn’t
he the slightest use in trying to explain a
yearn to him. He would look up from
bis paper and say. “Eh, what? Heav
es and earth, Mary, can’t you let a man
read the market report in peace? Say, 1
made a good deal to-day; if you want a
new frock, go down and get it.” And we
sigh patiently, and smile a sweet, sad
smile ns one who must en
dure these things, and think thai
tne man we didn't marry would have un
derstood our soul longing. Then we re
flect that better is a good income and
plenty than poverty and comprehension,
and there Isn’t a bit of disloyalty to John
in our hearts as we go down to get the
new frock.
Another advantage that the man we
didn’t marry lias is that we can always
picture him as being wildly, tragically in
love with us. Not In the prosaic fashion
of John, who, having once declared his
unalterable affection for us, and having
married us to prove it, has neve£ felt it
necessary to mention the temperature of
his devotion since. Perhaps he thinks in
his dull, blundering man fashion that his
patient, unremitting toil, day after day,
to make us comtortubie is a good deal bet
ter evidence of his love than any flowery
speeches, but that doesn’t satisfy a wo
man. Her idea of a perfectly undying love
is somebody who will pay tier compliments
al the breakfast table when her hair is
done up In curl papers, Ijet a man do that
and she will let hbn starve her, and ne
glect her, and still congratulate herself
upon having made a good match. Words
are always the main thing with her.
Of course, the man we didn’t marry nev
er would have gone out at nights. He
would never have wearied of our compan
ionship and longed for the society of his
own sex. On the contrary, he would have
adored pink teas and parties, and there
would never have been any struggle to
get him into his dress suit, and out to
receptions, where he stood around with
the expression of an early Christian mar
tyr, like John does when we ding him out
into society, and that makes us wash to
goodness that we had left him at home to
drowse over pipe and paper in his own li
brary. The man we didn’t marry would
have shown iti society. He had the happy
knack of saying the right, thing in the
right place, and of paying the loveliest
compliments. We still recall regretfully
the things he said about our eyes. Yes,
but he said the same things to other wo
men, too, and, uni, perhaps it is just as
comfortable in the long run to be married
to a man whose tongue is not too adept,
and who has not had too much experience
in tine speeches. Not so exciting, but safer
and more peaceable.
Love’s Service —
Love called to a young man winningly.
“Come, join the ranks of my company,
And take the Held in my service."
But the young man said, “There are other
things
Than blushes and kisses and flowers and
rings,
Of far more worth than your service.
“There’s business and sport and pleasure
and art;
Your war is mere folly, your weapon a
dart—
I’ve no time to spare for your service."
Love turned lightly away when he heard
„ the rebuff.
Of young volunteers there were more than
enough
To HU up the ranks of his service.
Put lime, pasping hy, made clear to the
man 1
That liny are the wisest who Join when
they can
The worshipful ranks of Love’s service,
So )>e offered to l,cve hlsuewels and coin:
Forgetting his age, he thought he would
Join
The throng who pressed to Love's
service.
But Ix>ve answered lightly, “The day has
gone by,
A sere autumn leaf Is too okl and too dry
For a garldnd worn in my service.
“You can buy, if you like, a friendly re
gard.
And perhaps it may seem, If you try very
i-.n rd.
As if you were In my service.
THE MOUSING NEWS: SUNDAY, FEBRUARY 27. 189a
"J3ut the raw recruits for my household
guard
I take from the young; the old arc de
barred
From taking the oaths of my service.
"The countersign’s ‘Youth.’ Con you give
It?" ”Ah, no.”
“Then right about face. You're too old
and too slow
To learn the details of my service.”
—Charles F. Johnson, in the New York
Tribune.
"What do you think some girls are do
ing now? Wearing stockings on their
arms as well as on their legs! How and
when and where? Just go into a woman's
dressing room at a party or a danep and
anybody who has so much as half an eye
can s,v. Not every woman can afford to
have a long, warm evening wrap with fur
lined sioeves to wear with low-necked,
short-sleeved gowns, says the Washington
Star; so those who can’t content them
selves with pulling heavy warm stock
ings. minus their feet, on over their bare
arms. Escorts lttt'.e dream of the display
of hosiery under coats that has been
made this winter.
“This wearing of stockings to protect
bare arms is fine,” says a girl who has
been trying it all winter. "I’ve never
been so popular in my life as I have this
season,* and I lay It all to the stockings.
Wouldn't the men laugh if they knew
that? You see It 'was this way: Last
winter und the winter liefore I never
dreamed that I could go out In full dress
without a carriage. One night last fall a
man called to take me to a reception with
out a sign of carriage. Mother was going
to chaperon me, and it was positively fun
ny, for we both had on our most sparse
evening gowns. We held a consultation
and figured that we would hurt this man’s
feelings if we telephoned for a cab. So
we decided to make the best of It. The
idea came lo me to cover our arms with
stockings and our necks with knit woollen
shawls and to slip dark skirts over our
light gowns. We did so and went to the
reception in the cable car. We were as
warm as bugs in a rug and had a real
jolly time, and the man. who Is a strug
gling author, was $lO in. Imagine my
amazement when we got in the dressing
room, which was crowded with women,
and found half of ’em with stockings on
their arms. They’d come in the cars,
too. That settled it with me. I saw (hat
it was possible to go out in full dress
comfortably without a carriage, and I
made my mother tell my friends when
they asked me out that I positively re
fused to go In a carriage. The result?
Oh, I’ve had more invitations to go out
this winter, more escorts and more steady
beaux, as our second girl puts it, than any
girl in my set. I always knew stockings
were 'magerful' things with men, to use
Sentimental Tommy's word, but bless me
if I realized their power fully until I took
to wearing them on my arms.”
“Yes, my dear, the Countess is actually
coming to pass the summer with us,” said
Mrs. Bobby Jones, whose sister had mar
ried a scion of a noble hut impoverish
ed Knglish family. From her pretty villa
in'Newport, says the New York Tribune,
Mrs. Jones had written to her brother-in
law's mother, hearing that the latter was
about to visit America, and invited her to
the Newport home.
“What do you think is her answer? That
she will accept with pleasure my kind in
vitation, and spend the summer with us,
adding graciously that she has heard so
much of Newport, and expects to enjoy
her visit immensely. Do you know that
woman hardly took the slightest notice of
me in London? She gave me a couple of
l ; mp Angers when we met, and asked Bob
by and me to a family dinner with Miily
and her husband. 1 hated her there, and
only asked her to stop with me to please
Miily, and because I thought it looked bet
ter over here to be on good tenns with the
family; but I never dreamed if having her
more than a ooupie of weeks at the out
side. Bobby is quite wild, hut Ido not
see what T can do about it.
“Her ladyship, with true British econ
omy', wishes free quarters at Newport, and
I suppose she thinks with people like us
it does not In the least matter what we
think as long as she gets what she wants.”
In the course of time Lady B. arrived,
and, behold, a transformation. Mrs. Bob
by could hardly believe that her agreeable,
interested and always easily amused guest
was the same person as the indifferent,
haughty individual whom she had met in
London. Lady B. on the defensive and
Lady B. on the make being entirely dif
ferent.
There is a certain frank greediness In
getting all they can upon their travels that
seerhs to a Characteristic of aristo
cratic British "globe-trotters” who lately
appear to have discovered America, and
adopted it in their itinerary. It would be
impossible for an American under any cir
cumstances to take for granted hospitality,
or any favor which saves their exchequer.
An American couple who were starting
home after an extended tour in Europe
were invited to meet a well known traveler
at a dinner in Tsmdon the day before their
departure. This man happened to say that
he Intended before long lo visit America.
“Come over now." said Mr. A, the Amer
ican; "I have taken a passage for my son,
who has suddenly determined not to go,
and I should he delighted if you would
use it." The great man declared It would
lie a pity to lo.se such a chance, and ac
cepted; and the next day sailed with bis
new-made friends for Now York.
So far so good. There was no reason
why an Invitation so frankly and heartily
made should not be accepted In the same
sptrft tjtui it was given, but Mr. and Mrs.
A., who were anxious to rejoin their
younger children, whom they had left at
home, never contemplated paying their
guest any further attention than perhaps
n dipner In his honor. A day or two be
fore landing, however, Mrs. A., who. wo
• manlike, was given to Intuition, said *o
her husband:
v 'Jlenry. 1 am Hire Mr. P. intends stop
ping at our house In New Y’ork."
"\Mhy. of course not, my dear. How
could he? Neither of us has asked him."
‘'Nevertheless,” site persisted, "he in
| tends making us his headquarters in
America, and 1 simply cannot have him.
The house is all upset, and il want to be
alone with Ihe-children."
Her husband laughed at the idea of a
man of Mr. S's. position forcing himself,
as It were, upon their hospitality; but
events proVed her right. The Englishman
ordered his luggage to go with theirs as a
matter of course at the dock, entered the
carriage, and drove with them to their
house, where he remained while in New
Y’ork, leaving his "tr ips” in what he was
pleased to call his room while making
short trips about the country.
"It did me good just to see them,” the
short, stout saleswoman said to Ihe tall,
lean filter as the two met ai the drawer
where they wen putting away things,
says the New York Sun.
' See who?’ was the inquiry made with
a pin between the teeth, as the fitter meas
ured inches on a cost shoulder.
’That couple that went out of here just
now. Y'ou must have noticed; a big,
gawky man from Ihe country and a glri
dressed up to the nines all In cheap feath
ers and pink ribbon. Had a big satchel
along with them.”
"Believe I did see them.” said the fitter
without taking the pin from her mouth.
"A bridal pair?”
"Going io be. Aliout the first of the
month. X think. He is helping to pick out
the bridal outfit. The girl is young, about
19 I should say. She wanted a velvet cape,
a shoulder cape, bui she couldn't go over
$lO.
"The idea of anybody expecting to get
a velvet cape for $10,” said the titter; “just
like these greenhorns. How did it come
out?"
”Sh& wanted Jet trimmings, lace anrl all
that for $lO. The cheapest thing we have
in that line, you know, Is $12.00, and that’s
no great shakes. Well. I his girl tried he
cheapest one on ami was delighted with it.
She wouldn't be a bad looking girl If some
l>ody pul a decent corset on her and show
ed her how to dress. The groom liked the
cape, too. He told her she looked like a
peach In It and praised her up so that
she turned all colors. He even asked my
opinion as to how it looked. However, she
hauled it oft at once when she heard the
price, but her face fell to zero and she
looked very nearly ready to cry w hen she
said that after all she believed a coat
would be more useful and picked up the
■?10 coat she had trjed on."
“Weill, so it would be more useful,” said
the fitter, jabbing her pins in line an exact
distance from the armhole and holding the
garment to view. "I)irl she get it?”
“No; she's got the cape,” was the an
swer, “and I’m as much pleased about It
as she is. That young fellow she is going
to marry is a great, hulking clown, but
he's got a big heart and as much delicacy
as a duke. When the girl took the cape
off and looked so disappointed he motioned
to me behind her back, holding out a $2-
blll, and then he said out loud: ‘Here,
miss, is that the lowest you could lake for
this cape? She's bought two dresses and
pair of shoes, and some handkerchiefs
down stairs, and it seems to me you ought
to make her a better price than that. The
cape ain’t worth a cent over slo.'
“I pretended to consider a while, and
even walked away as though I went to
consult somebody in the matter. While
the girl was examining the precious cape
for the fifth or sixth time, and I was be
hind a screen hanging up some cloaks,
be came behind there and gave me the
extra $2.50. ’Don't let her know, whatever
you do,' he whispered in a hurry. 'She’d
never take it if she dreamed I had helped
to pay for it. You make out that you
let her have it for ten. It's her wedding
cape, and I want her satisfied.’ Then I
went up to the girl and told her that as
it was the last cape we had of that par
ticular kind we would let It go for $10.”
"Well, I never," said the fitter, drop
ping her pins; “X didn’t Know before that
you were such an actress. The stage is
losing by your being here in the cloaks’
and suits' room.”
”I\ho couldn’t act with that young fel
low so dead set for his girl to have the
cape, and she so openly disappointed? She
wasn't much more than a child! You
ought to have seen here face when 1 told
her she could have it. Why, she just lit
up all over, like a sunburst, and she
handed out the $lO bill in a jiffy and went
off wearing the new cape, as proud as
though it was silk velvet instead of vel
ours and was lined with real silk instead
of farmer’s satin.”
“What sort of trimming did it have on
it?" askod the fitter, resuming her meas
urements.
“All sorts," was the answer. "It was
one of those with Vandykes of Jet running
up to the shoulders and a beaded collar
and lace down the front. It was lined
with red. Of course at that price the vel
vet had to be mean and flimsy to allow
for so much trimming, but the girl does
npt know' the difference. They have gone
down to the restaurant how to get lunch.
I doubt if the young fellow has much
money, but he's head over heels in love
with his girl, and he’s as tender of her
as If she was made of crystal and likely
to . fab to pieces in his hands any minute.”
"I do like to see real lovers,” said the
fitter with emphasis, as she turned up the
coat sleeve she held just three-quarters
of an inch. “It’s nearly lunch time now;
you think. If we went/down right at the
drop of the hat we'd see them eating to
gether?"
“Shouldn’t wonder." was the answer
“They are In town for the day, and, judg
ing from the way the pocketbooks looked
1 don t think they've got much more shop
ping to do. They will probably take a
long time over lunch and then'sit round
in the ladies’ parlor and listen to the mu
sic until time to lake the train.”
A Bangor lawyer attending court in the
ancient town of Wlseasset, in Maine went
rummaging recently in the colonial court
records of the place, says the New Y'ork
Sun, and in the course of his reading ran
across the official registration of a "smock
marriage.” Not knowing what sort of
marriage that was he looked further, and
got considerable light upon a custom that
prevailed in England a century or two
ago, and also to some extent in the Amer
ican colonies.
Smock marriages were weddings where
the bride appeared dressed in a white sheet
or chemise. The reason of such a garb
was the belief that if a man married a
woman who was in debt he could be held
liable for her indebtedness If he received
her with any of her property; and, also,
that if g woman married a man who was
ill debt his creditors could not take her
property to satisfy their claims if he re
ceived nothing from her. In England,
says an Antiquarian, there was at least
one casv where the bride was clothed puris
naturallbus while the ceremony was being
performed in the great church at Birming
ham, The minister at first refused to per
form the ceremony, hut finding nothing in
the rubric that would excuse him he mar
ried the pair.
To carry out the law fully, as the people
understood it. the ceremony should always
have been performed ns it was In the Bir
mingham church. But modesty forbid
ding. various expedients were used to ac
complish the desired purpose and yet
avoid the undesirable features. Some
times the bride siood in a closei and put
her hand through a hole in the door;
sometimes she stool behind a cloth screen
and put her hand out at one side; again,
she wound about her a white sheet fur
nished for the punxxse hy the bridegroom,
and sometimes she stood%n her chemise,
or smock. Eventually, in Essex county
at least, all Immodesty was avoided by the
bridegroom's furnishing to the bride all
the clothes she wore, retaining title to the
same in himself. This he did in the pres
ence of witnesses, that he might prove the
fact in oase he was sued fpr any debts she
might have contracted. A marriage of this
kind occurred at Bradford In 1733, and the
following is a true copy of the record of
the same;
Bradford, Dec. ye 24. 1733.
This may certitte whomsoever It may
concerne that James Bailey of Bradford
who was married to the widow Mary Ba
con Nov 22 last past by me ye subscriber
then declared that he took the said person
without anything of estate and that Lydia
the wife of Eliazo Burbank & Mary the
wife cf Thomas Stickney & Margaret the
wife of Caleb Burbank all of Bradford
were witnesses that the clothes she then
had on were of his providing & bestowing
upon her
William Balch, Minister of ye Gospel.
It Is noted by the same writer that in all
cases of smock marriages that have come
to his knowledge, the brides have been
widows.
It Is thought that during the reign of
George 111. there were many smock mar
riages in Maine, then a part of the prov
ince of Massachusetts Bay—chiefly in Lin
coln and York counties, or in the territory
which is now so known. There is nothing
to Fhow that the practice outlived the
Revolution. In Maine, up to 1852, a hus
band was liable for debts of his wife con
tracted before marriage, and no such sub
terfuge as the smock marriage cou'd re
lieve him.
Women don't miss it far when they say
that this season's parasols are dreams of
beauty. Many of them are so thin and
fluffy and cobweblike that they almost
look as if they might vanish with handling.
The parasol is one of the so-called sum
mer girl’s most effective weapons of at
tack and defense. It is a pretty back
ground for her pretty face, and from be
neath it she can hide or show her feelings
at will. It may seem queer to the men
folks, but the last thing a woman consid
ers in selecting one parasol or a whole out
lay Is whether they will protect her from
sun and rain. The first thing she lends
an eye to is becomingness, and it is a pos
itive fact that in every parasol department
there are large mirrors, before which the
women try their sunshades just as relig
iously and revently as they do their hats.
The swellest parasols for afternoon wear
are made of white. Some of the handsom
est have duchesse lace covers in new de
signs with panels, set on over a black
chi it on foundation w’ith black insertion
let in. Tiie combination is striking. Even
more dressy but less expensive parasols
are made of white or cream silk fish net
with flounces of the same edged with nar
row satin ribbon. Another pretty design
is made of white chiffon fulled on and
trimmed with fluffy ruffles of the same ma
terial edged with very narrow black vel
vet ribbon. White and black is the favor
its combination for dress parasols. A
new design is a parasole made of heavy
satin and entirely covered with full frills
of narrow satin ribbon. These are partic
ularly effective in cerise, turquoise blue,
and white, and will be much used with
tailor-made suits of pique and duck. The
handles of all parasols are much hand
somer and longer than ever before.
It is difficult, says the New York Tri
bune, for the people who are obliged to
“skimp” and manage to make both ends
meet to realize that they get more pleas
ure out of life than those who can afford
to gratify their whims and who need not
think twice before deciding upon any pur
chase that strikes their fancy. As Bridget
says in "Elise,” there is a “middle state,”
in which people are far happier—lf they
would only believe it—than those who are
well endowed with this world's goods.
‘“A purchase is only a purchase, now
that we have money,” continues Bridget,
regretfully. "Formerly it was a triumph!
When we coveted a luxury In those good
old times we used to have a debate for
days before, and weigh the for and against
and think what we might spare it out of,
and what saving we could hit upon that
could be an equivalent. A thing was worth
buying then, when we felt the money we
paid for it!” A book, an ornament, a
plant, a bit of china, a piece of silver—all
had their value in the days of our sim
plicity. Shall we ever learn that there
are better things in the world than money
can buy? Simple pleasures and happy
hours, that are unattainable by the rich!
What are the young people made of
nowadays that they dread poverty so
much? Are not youth and health, and a
sufficiency for absolute needs, riches
enough? Does romance count for nothing
in these days of Mammon? Riches take
to themselves wings and flee away, and,
as a matter of fact and of’Statistics, those
marriages which, from a worldly point of
view, seem most desirable, often turn out
disappointing, while the young couple who
begin life with modest wishes and simple
requirements are apt, in their middle life
to bask in the sunshine of prosperity.
Some author has said that a comfortable
fortune is the supplementary youth of
middle age. A poor supplement, indeed,
and one which those who possess the real
thing need not envy, even although com
parative poverty may be its accompani
ment.
Mrs. John Jacob Astor is popularly said
to be the most beautiful young matron in
New York. This means that in addition to
her beauty, which is indeed great, but no
greater than that of dozens of other wo
men in the same city, she unites all the at
tributes of wealth, family and position
which go such a long way to making beau
■ tv noticeable. Mrs. Astor is of the type Du
Maurier admired and made famous. His
women were all tall, astoundingly slender,
with the length of line he gave the Duch
ess of Towers and Trilby, yet while Mrs.
Astor has this figure she is neither thin
nor angular. Her face is sweet and piquant;
she w'ears her dark hair In straight bands;
her throat is long and her arms gently
molded. Sheds sylphlike in general effect,
and rather girlish. When last seen at the
opera she was attired in a white dress,
embroidered in silver, with white roses at
her belt and in her hair no jewels, except
a single string of pearls.
Fashions are said to be established in
Paris by a elaboration of the dressmakers
who criticise and help each other in bring
ing out the best effects for anew design.
Others believe that the manufacturers arc
the real designers, for they are responsi
ble for the class of goods put on the mar
ket. and the dressmakers arc thus com
pelled to devise a proper way to use the
materials.
Two girls were discussing summer plans'
and gowns In the Waldorf tearoom in New
York the other day.
"Its perfectly fine that you are coming
to Beverly," gushed one. "You’ll love it.
We've had four seasons there, and I
wouldn't go any place else far the world.”
“I suppose I'll need more thin gowns
there than at Bar Harbor,” said her
friend, thoughtfully nibbling a macaroon.
"Oh, U don’t fnake much difference
about that;’but, my dear, you simply must
have a scarlet golf coat.”
“I don’t play golf.”
“That doesn't make any difference. All
the men do.”
Tho friend looked puzzled. “I don't un
derstand,” she said.
"Why, you know the Essex County Club
brings loads of men down there. Men!
They’re really a drug on the market.
That’s why I take mamma there,” vow
ed the Beverly girl unblushingly.
”1 mean I don't understand about the
red coats.”
“Oh. Well, you see, 4he club coat ta
scarlef, and the fellows wear them all the
time.”
"Yes, but why do the girls need them?"
The Beverely girl looked Impatient. "I
Should think you might figure that out
without a map.” she said. “Don't you
drive with men, and sail with them, and
stt on the cliffs with them, and aren't you
fond of hammocks? Well, a scarlet coat
sleeve can be seen a mile off. All the girls ,
BEWARE OF MORPHINE.
Mrs. Pinkham Asks Women to Seek Permanent
Cures and Not Mere Temporary Belief £
From Pain. j..
Special*forms of suffering lead many a / ! \ \ \
woman to acquire the morphine habit./„ BgwA - \
One of these forms of suffering is a , AlV'Tj/jMK*- i
persistent pain in the side, accompanied by \ jI f '\ ‘J
heat and throbbing. There is disinelina- j
tion to work, because work only increases x&ijtjKiri
This is only one symptom of a chain of > wjw
troubles; she has others she cannot bear VI
to confide to I er physician, for fear of—
an examination, the terror of all sensitive, ui
modest women. ” \
The physician, meantime, knows her condition, but \
cannot combat her shrinking .terror. He yields to • y
her supplication for something to relieve the pain. , \
He gives her a few morphine tablets, with very \ J \
grave caution as to their use. Foolish woman ! She si j \
thinks morphine yviil help her right along ; she be- I j
Comes its slave ! V J l
A wise and a generous physician had such a case; ) \ >
he told his patient he could do nothing for her, as \
she was too nervous to undergo an examination. In despair, she went to visit
a friend. She said to her, “ Don’t give yourself up; just go to the nearest
druggist’s and buy a bottle of Mrs. Lydia E. Pinkham s \ egetable Compound,
It will build you up. You will begin to feel better with the first bottle.” She
did so, and after the fifth bottle her health was re-established. Here is her own
was very miserable ; was so weak that I could hardly
■ound the house, could not do any work without feel
•ed out. My morAhly periods had stopped and I was
ed and nervous all of the time. I was troubled very
with falling of the womb and hearing-down pains,
nd advised me to take Lydia E. Pinkhams Vege-
Compound ; I have taken five bottles, and think it is
:st medicine I ever used. Now I.can work, and feel
like myself. I used to be troubled greatly with
my head, hut I have had no had headaches or palpi
tation of the heart, womb trouble or bearing-down
pains, since I commenced to take Mrs. Pinkhams
medicine. I gladly recommend the Vegetable Com-
V- pound to every suffering woman. The use of on*
bottle will prove what it can do.” —Mus. Lucy Pkabley, Derby Center, Vt.
have red golf coats their second season
in Essex county.”
Evidently more thought, goes into the,
planning of a girl’s summer wardrobe '
than the uninitiated would suppose.
It is, of course, quite superfluous for me
to say that a refined gentlewoman will
never be too lavish in her use of perfume
and sachet powders, says a writer In the
Philadelphia Times. She will never go
about the world with an overpowering per
fume about her that preceded her into a
room and announce her presence before
she is seen. Many people, of course, do
use too much scent, but they are not
gentlewomen in any sense of the word,
and proclaim their vulgarity and station
In life in the way they overpower one with
some favorite sachet powder combined
with a heavy, clinging perfume. Some
people seem to imagine also that it pro
claims a long purse and a good income to
buy only those perfumes whose scent is
the most overpowering and strong. A del
icate perfume, whose presence is hinted
at rather than forced on one’s notice, they
seem to consider show's poverty in the per
son who uses it, and they hurriedly run to
the other extreme in their vulgar desire
to proclaim their wealth to the world at
large.
Some people also make the mistake of
not resting content with using one per
fume only, but mix one or two opposite
scents together at the same time with a
most unhappy result. They combine new
mown hay and cherry blossom, for in
stance, and one Is quite bewildered to
know whether it is spring time or summer.
All women of refined minds have some
favorite flower, and will wear no other
as long as they can obtain special
one; and in selecting a perfume they natur
ally chose the one that is yielded by that
favorite flower. They are also most par
ticular in paying a good price for it, as a
cheap perfume is an abomination to every
one who hah the misfortune to encounter
it. Besides, a cheap perfume is far more
costly in the end, as a drop of good and
expensive perfume will last twice as long
and smelt three times as strong and sweet
as one that is cheap and nasty. The sachet
powder that is used with the perfume
should be identical with it, or match it in
odor.
Perfume should never be used to over
power any disagreeable smell or closeness
of any kind; the effect is only horribly
sickly and does not achieve what It is
supposed to. Perfect freshness and sweet
ness is required before the perfume is used
and then the effect is all that can be de
sired. The best way to use perfume is to
keep a tiny vaporizer on your dressing
table and use a little in that, or put a few
drops on your handkerchief and laces.
If you wish to perfume your furs you
should remember that the scent clings to
them long after it has left anything else,
so you should be moderate in how you
use it.
The way to perfume your clothing is to
do it by means of sachet tx>wder. A good
plan is to have a very thinly padded silk
slip to lay on the bottom of all your flraw
ers where linen, etc., is kept; into this
your sachet powder must be quilted. You
can also introduce the perfume into your
skirts and bodies by means of tiny flat
silk pads that have the sachet powder
quilted inside. But this should be vary
carefuily done, and not to much powder
used at a time. They must also be fre
quently changed or the-y will smell stale.
It is far better, however, that the per
fume should be suggested by the clothing
haying acquired it by being in a wardrobe
or drawer with scented walls than that
it should be overdone by too much powder
in the dress itself.
A young woman of this city, says the
Chicago Times-Herald, who Is about to
be married, had a call recently which was
in the nature of a surprise, and affected
her unpleasantly, like a decree of fate,
She was summoned to the parlor, where
a young woman of her own age awaited
her, but who was evidently very differ
ently situated In life,and who was now
weeping softly.
“I have called to make an apology,”
said the girl between her sobs. “I am a
seamstress employed by Miss Smith, who
is making your wedding gown. There are
several of us girls working on It, but to
day I got to thinking, and then was nerv
ous and cried, and some of my tears
dropped on the silk.”
"And ruined it?" suggested the owner
of the gown with a tragic motion.
“No, there was no damage done, hut
Miss Smith was very angry, and said
it meant bad luck to cry over a wedding
gown, and she discharged me, I am very
sorry, and I don't believe such a trifling
thing can bring you any harm, and I
thought iif you would be kind enough to
ask her Miss Smith would take me back.
I know she would refuse you."
Then this fortunate young woman said;
"I wouldn’t have had It happen for the
world—the tears, I mean—and I think
Miss Smith did perfectly right to dis
charge you before you had ruined other
wedding gowns. It should b a lesson."
And she showed the Nlobe of fashion
able dressmaking to the door.
He was a very ingenious man. He had
made an invention which was of great
value. He thought so at least, if the
world did not, and he had his invention
patented. It was a combination camp
stool, cane and umbrella. The cane was
the usual form of the invention. At a
big parade nothing could be more con
venient, and for an ordinary, unexpected
rainstorm what, could be better? A man
is sure lo have his walking stick with
him.
it was not so very long after the in
vention had been perfected that the man
was out walking with his wife, and a
sudden shower came up. There were no
cars accessible, and the Only thing to do
was to run, and the unlucky pair did this
with a vengeance, reaching the house hoi,
uncomfortable and pretty wet.
“Well, we are her at last,” said tha
man, drawing a long breath of relief.
"Yes,” said the wife, disconsolately,
“but I think I have ruined my new bon.
net. And John Smith,” she added, sud
denly, with a little scream, “what do you
think you have done? You had that *oM
invention of yours—eane-campstool-um
brella affair—in your hand all the time
ready for an emergency and forgot to usa
It " g
The man tells the story, and thinks i(
is a great joke.
I’m Pretty Sure—
Mattie E. Gammons, in the New Y'orW
Tribune.
I’m pretty sure that Heaven isn’t so very!
far away,
I'm pretty sure we're close beside the pore
tal every day:
And It seems to me quite certain as I think
the matter o'er,
That our feet go tripping daily within Ita
open door.
I'm pretty sure that we can make of earik
a Heavenly spot,
If only now and then we try to help an
other’s lot;
And Heaven’s door will open to you and
me, my friend.
And Heaven won’t he far away when our
work 4s at an end.
I’m pretty sure that when we try we'll £r,d
all sorts o’ ways
To send across our neighbor’s path a tiny]
sunlight ray,
The plan is very simple; follow the Golden
Rule,
I’m pretty sure you've learned it wherj
you used to go to school.
I’m pretty sure that Heaven Is a plara
where all can go;
I’m pretty sure I’ve found at last a truth
that all should know;
That Heaven's gates are open; yes, the
doors are open wide.
And I’m pretty sure the faithful will find
a seat inside.
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