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MAGAZINE SECTION.
BERNHARDT’S ART IN DRESS
GREAT SPLENDOR OF W ARDROBE
OF THE WORLD’S GREATEST
ACTRESS.
tfuch Study Given to Make Each
Gown Adaptable to the Hart Pre -
sented. — Artist’s laste and Genius
Very Evident.
What does Madame Bernhardt wear?
Hiring her engagement in this coun
•y, this question about the famous
tress was asked by every woman
able to judge by seeing for herself,
1 the reply is the de ghted ex
mation:
‘Her gowns are simply gorgeous—
ey are a part of her.”
In the many plays presented. Bern
irdt has a.i oppo unity of displaying
great variety of dresses, and thou
* ands of women who have packed the
arge theatres at every performance
tvhereever she appeared, have stared
at them in wonder, recognizing not
only their perfect adaptation to the
part presented, but also how much of
Bernhardt's own taste and genius
there was in them.
HER GENIUS FOR "SIGN.
What is it? The gift displayed in
this particular, is as characteristic of
the woman as any other of the count
less details which go to make her the
public idol of all lands. Even those
who did not understand the spoken
language of the play, were full well
able to comprehend that of the silk,
satin and lace facing them over the
flaming footlights. This artist has
demonstrated to thousands, that a gown
may be superior in lines and construc
tion to the flimsy models sent over
each year from Paris for our slavish
following. Street clothes, of course,
demand a certain amount of conven
tionality', in order not to make the
wearer conspicuous, but since the
Bernhardt engagement in their respec
tive fashion centers, not a few devisers
of costumes have declared their inten
tion of taking indoor styles more ser
iously.
HER EXAMPLE FOLLOWED.
For those women whose incomes ad
mit of certain and extravagant expend
iture for clothes, it is just now consid
ered wonderfully ‘smart” to furnish
their own dressmakers and tailors with
water-color sketches of models, speci
ally drawn for them by famous artists,
these sketches being used solely for
their own particular gowns. With the
stage for a precedent, these fashionable
dames have feund it convenient to
adopt its methods. For those who can
not indulge in this fad, theater-going
MADAME SARAH BERNHARDT.
In Costume Worn in Her Damons "Camille" Ball-room Scene.
.-sump* an added phase of enjoyment
to womankind. Sara Bernhardt’s crea
tions are curiously interesting from the
point of view that they serve as an ad
vance courier of what may be accom
plished by women who effect the hour
glass figure as that demanded by fash
ion purveyors. Her carriage is lofty,
her chest is high, her waist line ample,
and her head well poised—quite the
reverse, you will observe from the
figure usually attributed to French
women. But how unfettered is Bern
hardt’s every action, and how splendid
her movements! In other words, she
has mastered so absolutely the art of
dressing well, that once clothed, she is
utterly oblivious of her adornments.
A UNIQUE INNOVATION
Novel indeed is the hip swathing o?
all Mme. Bernhardt’s gowns and all
her frocks are set up on classical lines.
The bodices show waist lines either
below her natural bust or well down
on her abdomen, preferably the latter!
style, as it gives her body that hygi-1
enic poise which every woman’s better!
The Montgomery Monitor.
nature knows to be its proper setting
for prolonged activity.
To demonstrate how Mme. Bern
hardt manages to make this audaci
ous deviation from fashion's dictates
attractive, it is well to say that she
had specially designed a cuirass over
which she has her maid wind yards of
soft ribbon which is Anally tied in front
with an ornamental bow and long
streamer ends. This style is especially
adapted to her, as it makes her appear
taller, a point well worthy of imitation!
On this particular gown the hip swath
ing ends in pailletted stole ends, drip
ping with gold fringe. Her tiny feet
are encased in marvelously fitting slip
pers of cloth of gold.
WONDERFUL BREAKFAST ROBE.
The robe worn in the breakfast
scene in “Magda” is worthy of study.
It is a silver-encrusted lace creation
over pastel blue, set up with wide
shoulders and a swathing of pale blue
ribbon, ending in large rosettes with
stole ends in front. A uniq; but char
acter-lending touch is a miniature Em
pire stole —merely a patted line of
priceless sable, which gives the frock,
in its Empire draping, the much need
ed long straight lines from neck to
hem. The sleeves, too, which are lace
puffs, with forearms of transparent
lace, show pale blue bracelets at their
division, made visible only by the art
ist’s gestures, a subtle touch, but very
pleasing.
COSTUMES WORN IN “CAMILLE.”
Ravishing, indeed, are her “Camille”
dresses! The first mystery is in sil
ver strewn gauze, wrought with a lat
tice work of pink ribbon embroidery
near the flare at the foot, this outer
work of art being fashioned over let
tuce green satin souplA The hip
swathing and stole ends are in the
same tone, and she wears with extra
ordinary grace a frosty pelerine of pale
green chiffon, decorated with fetching
clusters of blush roses.
Another of the ‘‘Camille’’ frocks re
veals the French dressmaker’s pow'er
of detail. The material is lustrous
white satin, with raised embroidery in
variegated pink flowers with green
foliage—the corsage resplendent with
well set gems.
Another change to which she treats
her audience in “Camille” is a gorge
ous half-fitting robe of white lace —
semi-fitting princess is this model, the
lace flecked "with reddish gold figures,
seemingly woven into the texture. Pale
pink is the foundation, as is also the
hip lining.
HER “ANGELO” COSTUME.
In “Angelo,” Mme. Bernhardt’s
dress, an Italian princess costume, is
fashioned front gorgeous gold brocade.
It is set up on short-waisted, half-fitted
bodice lines, with t.ne long sweeping
folds of the skirt attached. The mater
ial is so draped as to present an unbro
ken straight front, from the tucker
decorated corsage to the foot line.
Beautifully adjusted leg-of-mutton
sleeves of gold brocade meet fitted fore
arm coverings of cloth of gold, the lat
ter extending in shaped circular flares,
well drawn down over the knuckles,
ending just a touch of uching to
soften the effect.
A classic drapery of gobelin blue
crepe, deftly touched with embroidery
of deeper tone, accentuates the beauty
of thp ensemble. This cloak hangs in
long straight lines over the gown, be
ing but looseiv caught together at the
sides with tapestry blue cords and tas
sels With this is worn a dog collar of
pearls.
Other feminine accessories, unite out
of the ordinary are the jewel-studded
; doth-of-gold chatelaine bag. stj«nended
! on a long, dangling gold chain, and
: several plain linked gold chains worn
! in festoons over the corsage
MOUNT VERNON. GEORGIA. THURSDAV. ji’LY 5. 1906.
JULY SECOND THE DAY
GOVERNMENT HISTORIAN SAYS
REAL INDEPENDENCE IS NOT
THE FOURTH.
Colonies Made Declaration Against
England Previous to Drawing His
torical Paper.— Final Signing ol
Document on August Second.
According to the opinions of the
latest historical authorities both the
school children of by-gone days and
those of the present time have been
taught incorrectly as to the proper in
dependence day of the nation. No one
date seems to develop such excitable
emotions as does the mention of tiic
Fourth of July, but how unattractive
would it seem if we were to state that
the second of July is the day of fire
crackers, bombs and Roman candles.
And yet, according to Mr. William 11.
Michael, Chief Clerk and Historian of
the Department of State,, “The real In
dependence Day is the second of July.”
Since we bent over our childhood
histories we have always had an idea
that our fathers severed the ties with
Great Britain on the Fourth of July,
1776, and we have had word of no less
an authority than Thomas Jefferson,
author of that hallowed instrument,
that the Declaration was signed on
that date, on whose anniversary the
great father of democracy died. But
Mr. Michael says no, and for years he
has toiled for his country beneath the
same roof which shelters the sacred
document; has had the nation’s arch
ives at his fingers’ ends.
INDEPENDENCE ON JULY 2.
“The independence of the United
States was declared by resolution on
the 2d of July, and the adoption of the
form of Declaration on the 4th of July
was a secondary matter,” says Mr.
Michael. “It is a little strange that
more importance was not attached to
the 2d of July in connection with the
Declaration of Independence. The res
olution introduced by Richard Henry
Lee, was passed on that day (July 2.
1776). This was really the vital point
—the crucial juncture.”
The real act of independence, which
Mr. Michael has had reproduced in fac
simile, was then the Lee resolution
declaring:
“That these United colonies are, and
of right, ought to be, free and inde
pendent, states; that, they are absolved
from all allegiance 1o the British
Crown, and that all political connection
between them and the State of Great
Britain is, and ought, to be, totally
dissolved.”
SIGNED AUGUST 2.
Concerning the actual date of the
Declaration’s signing, Mr. Michael
says: “Mr. Jefferson in his account
states that all the members present
except Mr. Dickinson, signed the Dec
laration in the evening of the Fourth
of July. The journal shows that no
one signed it that, evening except Mr.
Hancock and Mr. Thomson. The
journal entry is: ‘Signed, John Han
cock, President, Attest, Charles Thom
son. Secretary.’ * * * On August,
2, the Declaration, as engrossed under
the order of Congress, was signed by
all of the members of Congress
present.”
What really did happen on July 4,
of that year of years was the final
adoption of a draft of the “form of
announcing the fact to the world”
that independence had been decreed
two days before. Jefferson had writ
ten this draft, in his Philadelphia
apartments, consisting of a ready-fur
nished parlor and bedroom in the new
brick house of Hyman Gratz, at the
southwest corner of 7th and Market
streets, “on the outskirts of the city.”
The Penn National Bank now occupy
ing the site of this dwelling, is in the
very business heart of Philadelphia.
WRITTEN LATE IN JULY.
But the “original Declaration,” which
all pilgrims to Washington formerly
gazed upon in awe and reverence, was
not ordered written for more than two
weeks after that long but unjustly
hallowed July 4. On July 19, Con
gress ordered that the Declaration be
“fairly engrossed on parchment,” and
that, “the same, when engrossed, be
signed by every member of Congress.”
Some time within the next two weeks
the beautiful pen work which thous
ands of Americans have since mar
veled at and admired was executed
upon the great, strip of sheepskin now
locked away in the Department of
State at Washington.
On August 2, 1776, just a month
after the real stroke of independence
this great, sheepskin was unrolled In
the presence of the Continental Con
gress, in Independence Hall, with the
wording of the corrected draft, it was
carefully “compared at, the table.”
This formality gone through with,
it. was spread out. upon a desk and
signed by ail of the members of Con
gress present. Fifty of these fathers
of the republic signed on that day.
Six of the revered “signers,, did not
affix their signatures until later dates
George Wythe of Virginia signed
about August 27. Richard Henry Lee,
Virginia: Eldridge Oerrv. Massachu
setts, and Oliver Wolcott. Connecticut
did not sign until some time 1n Sen
temher Matthy Thornton, of New
Hampshire, did not add his name until
November, and Thomas McKean of
Delaware, probably did not affix his,
the final signature, until five years
later, or 1761. Matthew Thornton,
by the wav. was not. appointed to Con
s Tess until September and did not
take hfs seat until November —four
months after the adoption of the Dec
laration. Other signers who "-ere
not members of Congress on July 2
or 4. were allowed to sign on August
2, the general signing day. These
were Benjamin Rush, James Wilson,
George Ross, George Clymer and
George Taylor.
JULY FOURTH.
The Day of Days Among Uncle Sam’s
Sailor Boys.
Uncle Sam makes the Fourth of
July a greater day among his sailors
than even Christmas. Indeed, it is
the greatest day for relaxation and
pleasure for Jackie in the whole year.
The early Secretaries of the navy
established (lie custom and It lias been
almost religiously maintained invio
late through the long line of officials
who have succeeded them.
Independence day belongs to the
Jackie. His superiors recognize that
his life is in some respects a hard
one. To him is denied the ties of
family, the friendships and all the
other interests and diversions of life
that make up the landsman's existence,
so for this reason Uncle Sam believes
that his sailors should have as many
holidays as possible.
To make Independence Day the big
gest day of all is to give the day a
special significance which cannot fall
in some degree at least to carry its
lesson of patriotic duty to those who
serve the republic on the seas.
Hence commodores and captains
always plan to remain in port on
July 4. Then, after dressing ship, tir
ing the national salute, and brief patri
otic services, the day is given to the
men to enjoy as they see tit, discipline
being almost entirely relaxed. The
sports that attend the sailors on the
Fourth of July are of a varied char
rm
*i i
I .Ml. I
i ir-n — r~t. ■■■■-■ ' 1
INDEPENDENCE HALL AT PHI LA DE I.Pill A.
acter. Our naval service has, of
course, become affected to a consider
able extent by the great outdoor move
! ment that has converted Independence
Day into the greatest sporting carnl
, val of the year.
The Navy Department, has wisely
1 encouraged this tendency,, and where
evcr an open field is available, Die
, piece dc resistance Is a baseball game,
sometimes between rival nines picked
from members of the same ship,
oftener between teamis represent Ing
different ships and in some extreme
cases between nines from separate
1 squadrons who happen to be in rert
-1 dezvous near each other.
Then there are track and field
events. The fleet-footed wearers of
1 the blue show how fast they can
sprint. Now just, what good tills does
; them in their developments as fighters
is riot clear, for even had they the
1 Instinct to flee and get over ground
faster than a Duffy It. would do them
no good at the moment when the prow
of the ship was heading for a moist
trip to Davy Jones' Docker. However,
they run and throw weights, jump and
pole vault.
If no athletic field la available, then
the rivalry must be confined to aquatic
events, swimming and rowing races.
In extreme cases where It. Is not pos
sible t.o get ashore or the water con
dltlons preclude rowing or swimming,
the Jackies test their prowess at box
ing, wrestling, fencing, dancing and
singing.
Then the ship’s larder Is drawn on
for such extra delicacies as trans
forms the regula- neal Into a banquet,
and Mr. Jackie crawls Into his ham
mock w-It.h the comfortable feeling
that July Fourth Is pretty big day
after all, and that he Is glad to be
able to pass ft In Unde Sam’s service.
Mack Hair the Strongest.
Black hair is stronger than golden
tresses, and will sustain almost, double
the weight. Recently a scientist found,
by experiment, that It Is possible to
suspend a weight of four ounces by a
single hair, provided the hair be black.
B’ond hair will give wav at weights
varying according to the tint. A yel
low hair will scarce support two ounces,
a brown will bold up three without,
breaking while one of a verv dark
brown will sustain an additional half
ounce.
BHB gin
Abv'vV.u~oaan D.n'W' \‘ I
Copyrighted. 1894 By liArper '
Synapsis of prococllne chapters .it end of this Installment.
At early dawn the country inn was
all alive. The archer was as merry as
a grig, and having kissed the matron
and chased the maid up the ladder
once more, be went out to the brook
and came back with the water dripping
from his face and hair.
“Hola! tny man of peace," he cried
to Alleyne, “whither are you bent this
morning?”
"To Minstead. My brother Simon
Edricson is socman there, and I go to
hide with him for a while.”
The archer and Hurdle John pin a
hand upon either shoulder and led the
boy off to the board, where some
smoking fish, n dish of spinach, and a
jug of milk were laid "Ut, for their
breakfast.
“I should not be surprised to learn,
mon catnarnde,” said the 1 soldier, as lie
heaped a slice of the fish upon
Alleyne's traneholr of bread, “that
you could read written things."
~‘jou pinoD I j! nopniMji jo Hjaqinid
u.i.iq o.ujq | pun flmo.is,, ‘p.uowsuu >t|
“It would i>e shame to the good
their clerk this ten years.”
The bowman looked at him with
great respect. “Think of that! said
he. "And you with not a hair to your
face, and a skin like a girl. I can
shoot three hundred and fifty paces
I with my llUli' popper there, and four
) hundred and twenty with the great
war-how; yet I can make nothing of
this, nor read my own name,
“Why, It Is written In the French
tongue," said Alleyne, “and In a right
clerkly hand. Thin Ih how It rnnH In
our speech: ‘To the very powerful
and very honorable knight, Kir Nigel
Coring of Christchurch, from hIH very
faithful friend Kir Claude Latour,
captain of the White Company, chate
lain of BuHcar, grand lord of Mont
chateau, and vassal to the renowned
Gaston, Count of Koix, who holds the
rights of the high Justice, the middle,
and the low.”
“Look at that, now!” cried the how
man in triumph. "That is Just what
he would have said. You come with
me, moo gros Jean, and as to you,
’ little one, where did you say that you
Journeyed ?"
“To Mlnstead.”
“Ah, yes! I know this forest-country
well. We shall travel round with you
t< Mlnstead, lad. seeing that It Is little
out of our way.”
As they passed the old church,
which stood upon a mound at the left
hand side of the village street, the door
was flung open, and a stream of wor
shippers wound down the sloping path,
coming from the morning mass.
Alleyne bent knee and doffed hat at
the sight of the open door; but ere he
had finished an Avo, his comrades were
out of sight, round the curve of the
path, and he had to run to overtake
them.
“What!” he said, “not. one word of
prayer before God’s own open house’
How can ye hope for his blessing upon i
the day?”
"My friend,” said Tlordle John, “I ,
have prayed so much during the ,ast
two months, not only during the day,
but at matins, lauds, and the like,
when f could scarce keep my head
upon my shoulders for nodding, that I
feel that I have somewhat overprayed
myself.”
“How can a man have ton much re
ligion?” cried Alleyne earnestly. "It
Is the one thing that avalleth. A man
Is but a beast as he lives from d»v to
day, eating and drinking, breathing
and sleeping. It Is only when he
raises himself, and no. erns himself
with the Immortal spirit within him,
that he becomes |n verv truth a man
Rethink ye how sod a thing ft " - ouM
he that the blood of the Redeemer
should he spilled to no purpose ”
“Bless the lad. If he doth not hlusti
like anv gtrl. and vet preach I'Ve the
whole College of Cardinals!” cried the
archer
“Tn truth T blushed that anv one «n
weak and so unworthy as T «hoo|d try
to teaeh another that which he finds
ft »o passing frard to follow himself.”
"Prettily said, mon garcon! Touch
j 1 iiK that same slaying of the Uodeemer,
it was a had business, A Rood padre
In France read to us from a scroll the
whole truth of the matter. The
soldiers came upon Him in the Garden.
In truth,these Apostlesof Hlamayhave
been holy men, hut. they were of no
great account as men-at-arms. There
was one, Indeed, Sir Peter, who smote
out like a true man; but, unless he is
helled, he did hut clip a varlet’s . or,
which was no very knightly deed.
Ity these ten finger-bones! had I bei n
there, with Black Simon of Norwich,
and but one score of picked men of the
Company, we had held them in play
Could we do no more, we had at letLst
tilled flic false knight, Sir Judas, so
full of English arrows that he would
nurse the day that, ever he name oil
such an errand.”
The young clerk smiled at his
companion's earnestness. "Had He
wished help," he said, "Hi* could have
summoned legions of arehungles from
heaven, so what need had lie of your
poor bow ami Trow? Besides, bethink
you of His own words that those whe
live by the sword shall perish by the
sword.”
"Now, youngster, let things be plat
and plain between ns. I ant a man
who shoots straight at his mark.
" •i 1 » niitniin hi i itihiii >ii HIM 111 • l I IV .
You saw the things 1 hud with me at
yonder hostel; name which you wHI.
save the Imx of rose-colored sugar
which I take to the Hady Coring, and
you shall have them If you will but
come with me to France.”
"Nay,” said Alleyne, "I would gladly
■ come with ye to France or where else
j ye will. Just to list to your talk, and
la cause ye are the only two friends
that 1 have In the whole wide world
outside of the cloisters; but Indeed it
I may not he, for my duty Is toward my
brother, seeing that father and mother
nre dead, and he my elder. Besides,
when ye talk of taking me to France,
ye do not conceive how useless 1
should he to you, seeing that neither
by training nor by nature am I fitted
for the wars, and there seems to he
nought hut strife In those parts."
"Bethink you again, mon ami,"
quoth Aylward, "that you might do
much good yonder, since there are
three hundred men In the Company,
mid none who has ever a word of
grace for them, and yet the Virgin
knows that there was never a set of
men who wen l In more need of It.
Hlekerly the one duty may balance the
other. Your brother hath done with
out you this many a year, and, as I
gather, he hath never walked as far
as Beaulieu to see you during all that
time, so he cannot be In arty great need
of you.”
“Besides,” said John, "the Socman ol
Mlnstead Is a byword through the
forest, from Bramshaw Hill to Holmes
ley Walk. He Is a drunken, brawling,
pi rlloug churl, as you may find to your
cost."
"The more reason that I should
strive to mend him,” quoth Alleyne.
"There Is no need to urge me, friends,
for my own wishes would draw me to
France, and It would be a Joy to me
could I go with you. Hut Indeed and
Indeed It cannot be, so here I take my
h ave of you, for yonder square tower
amongst the trees upon the right must
surely be the church of Mlnstead, and
I I may reach It by this path through
the woods.”
"Well, God be with thee, lad!” cried
the archer, pressing Alleyne to his
heart. "1 am quick to love, and quick
to hate, and 'fore God I am loath to
part. Yet It may be as well that you
. should know whither we go. We shall
now Journey south through the woods
until we come out upon the Ohrist
ehtirofi road, and so onward, hoping
to-night to reach the castle of Sir
William Mont.aoute, Earl of Salisbury,,
of which Sir Nigel Boring is constable.
' There we shall bide, and It Is like
| enough that for a month or more you
I may find uh there, ere we are ready
I for our voyage back to France.”
It was hard Indeed for Alleyne to
! break away from these two new but
hearty friends, and so strong was the
combat between his conscience and his
Inclinations that he dared not look
round, lest, his resolution should slip
away from him.
The path which the young clerk hau
now to follow lay through a magnifi
cent forest, of the very heaviest timber,
where th" giant holes of oak and of
beech formed long aisles In every di
rection, shooting up their huge
branches to build the majestic arches
of Nature’s own cathedral. It was
very still there in the heart of the
woodlands. The gentle rustle of the
branehes and the distant cooing of
pigeons were the only sounds which
broke In upon the silence, save that
once Alleyne heard afar off a merry
call upon a hunting bugle and the
shrill yapping of the hounds. He
pushed on the quicker, twirling his
staff merrily, and looking out at every
; turn •* the path for some sign of the
i old Saxon residence. He was tselflenly
' arrest) <l, however, by the sippearance
' of a wild-looking fellow armed with a
club who sprang out from behind a
tree and barred his passage. He was
a. rough, powerful peasant, with cap
and tunic of untanned sheepskin,
leather breeches. and gnlllgnsklne
round his legs and feet.
“Stand!” he shouted, raising his
heavy cudgel to enforce the order.
"Who are you who walk so freely
throu-h the wood?” Wh'ther would
you eo, and what Is your errand?”
"Whv should T answer vour ques
tions. mv friend , ” said Alleyne, stand
ing on his guard.
“Because vour tongue may save
vr nr pate. What hast In the scrip'"
“Nought, of any price.”
"How can T tell that, clerk? T>et me
see •*
"Not T."
••tc,,,,!) t eonld pull von Hmh from
limb like a pullet. Wouldst lose scrip
and life too'”
“T will part with neither without a
fight.”
"X fight, quotha? A fight betwixt.
PART TWO.