The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, June 24, 1900, Page 13, Image 13

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WOMAN’S WORLD. The Rev. Jesse H. Jones writes in the New York World on “The Secret of a Happy Marriage,” as follows: Who can describe in words that heav enly time of young love, when the deep est affections of life burst forth into their perfumed blossoming and life is in its springtime? Why is it that this joy Is so transient and so apt to fade and darken like the hues of the sunset? Why do there come to some the bitter frosts that cut love down or the subtle poisons that destroy it, while oth ers enjoy it until death? These are serious and not merely senti mental questions. Life is not all logic and economics. The problem of securing and retaining affection is fully as import ant to the happiness of our homes as the problem of securing wealth. A separate individual is but half a life, and happiness depends upon findnng the other half who is the most perfectly suit ed in mind and temperament. There is perhaps for every person one perfect mate, though it may be seldom that such marriages occur. Practically speaking, we can only hope to get as near perfection as possible. One secret of a happy marriage is (o re tain, as far as may be, ihe spirit and relations of courtship. Marriage should never be considered the gateway to li cense and selfishness. Lover-love is the highest type of love in the world. It is even higher and holier than mother-love. It is tlie ripe and ra tional affection of equals for each other. The highest conception which Whitman ha* of the civilization of the future is that we shall have a “world of lovers.” In every true marriage there should be an element of devoutness. Nowhere is flippancy more out of place than at the marriage altar. We would have fewer di vorces, because less need for them, if every marriage were regarded as a pecu liarly serious and solemn undertaking. I was present once at a country wedding which illustrates what I mean. The young couple were plain, molest folk from the farm, and appeared to be deeply impressed as the ceremony proceeded. When the minister reached the words, “Let us pray,” they both turned around with a quick mo tion and threw themselves upon their knee*, bowing their heads upon the sofa, •nd so remained to the end of the prayer. It was the first Uase in which I ever knew any one to kneel during the wed ding prayer, except in a formal way, and there was such intense earnestness and devotion In their manner that every one present was profoundly moved. It was very evident thAt they dedicated them selves to one another with their whole hearts. To the children born of love, in wedlock that is kept holy in fact os well as name, we must look for the elevation of the race. There is no need of laws forbidding certain people to marry, for it is a fact that people who are very inferior may have children far better than themselves if they are drawn together by love and obey the laws of their nobler natures. But the chief scorer of a happy marriage Is the following rule: Put the woman at the head of the family instead of Ihe man. If there is to be any ruling it is better to have the women enthroned than the man. More authority will make the woman stronger and more service* will make man gentler. No man can ever know the full sweetness of love who insists upon being the lord and master of his household. The English common law says: “The man and the woman are one, and that one is the man.” This unjust and absurd sentence has been the means of making our homes little empires instead of little republics. I protest against any sort of imperialism in the home. The highest marriage is that which develops the liberty and self-hood of the woman as well as the man. Women should be the owners of them selves as well after marriage as before. All the immortality of the world centers around the, submissiveness and practical slavery of women. Every woman should cultivate the sense of self-ownership, for unless love is free and pure it is not love. It is mere selfish amativeness and nothing more. The great need of our homes is not so much for better mothers as for better fathers. The man for whom the world waits is he who will ascend into the high est of hia manhood and live there: who will be strong enough to climb the hights of unselfish love. It is he who shall “love as a maiden loveth," and by the culture of liis own brain and heart attain to com . plete self-mastery. In such a man the passion* will not be extinguished, but con trolled, arid his better self will be the Su preme Court of his nature, from which there can be no appeal. There Is a clergyman in New Tork. says the Times of that city, who. whenever he has a chance to tell a siory. tells a Dewey story. It concerns a small hoy in his Sunday school and took place a lit tle while ago. when the Admiral was a more genera! subject of conversation than he Is now. In the course of a talk the minister had with his scholars one day he had asked a general question: "'What great deed did Dewey per form ?” That was an easy conundrum, for ft contained the answer In itself, one small boy in the school thought. When he heard that word "deed," he knew' in a moment that was the reply the minister wanted, and he piped out shrilly: "Deeded his house to his wife.” There Is almost always a woman In the esse and she docs not alw'ays get her Just dues. When Mrs. Dewey lost a dia mond pin in Detroit the other day all the papers came out Immediately with the story of the little boy who found It. But It seems that there was a little girl. I.lllian McGrath who saw the pin at the same moment that the small boy did. though the boy got to the pin first and grabbed it. But it was little Lillian who told the police and mode its return pos sible. And she was amply rewarded. She was one of the little patriots who were wildly anxious to see the Admiral and his wife. Ii did not look as if she was going to have the chance, hut after the finding of the p'n. word was sent that she was to be taken to call on them at their hotel, where she had a chance to talk with Admiral and Mrs. Dewey for at bast half an hour. Then the Admiral Resented to Mrs. McGrath a JBO check, with which to start a bank account for Lillian, and better than that, t*e promis ed lo send the little girl his autograph on a photograph when he reached Washing ton. t "I find ft an Interesting study In soci ology.” remarked a clubman, to the New Tork Tribune, recently, "to follow, step by step, the rise of a successful parvenu. Tfake the Clymbens, for Instance. I can give you the history of their progress from the very beginning, for I saw at once that their methods would insure success. I often make mental bets on the field. I o„ those who are in the race for social advancement, and I singled the Clymbers out as sucoessful candidates several years ■go. "When they came to New York from one of the Western states ten years ago, they did not know a soul, but Mr. C.'s reputation os a business man was ex cellent, and he found no difficulty in floal irvg various schemes In which he was In terested among men of known financial position. X happened to have met him on a business trip out West, and although of no particular weight, either financially or socially, he offered me the position of director in one of his companies, which I accepted, and It was owing to this cir cumstance that I was enabled to watch events. "His wife was an extremely pretty w'oman with no end of tact, and her first success was with old Van Dttsen. presi dent of the Bank, w ho was beguiled Into dining with them by Clymber. on tin pretence of talking over an important business deal, but really for the sole pur pose. I am aura, of bringing him under the influence of Mrs. C., for the chief re sult was a promise that Mrs. Van Duson should call at once. The latter also fell under the spell, for our pretty social as pirant made herself us attractive to wo men at? to men. Next, following Mrs. \an D. s advice, she began to attempt small dinners and theater parties, and with wonderful good sense she made haste slowly. She never made an undesirable friend. The best or none seemed to be her motto. A few well worded paragraphs mentioning her guests began to appear in the society columns about her little func tions. Clymber on his part put society men up to good things in Wall street, and their wives returned the civilities by asking the C.’s to dinner. “Aristocratic women who are always In want of pin money had also ‘favors’ done them by deals in stocks w'herem they risked nothing end stood to win a good deal, and they, of course, praised the C.’s to the ekies. Finally, the latter ventured n ball. That was the crucial test, for oddly enough, it is much easier to get Invitations to tiptop balls than to make the ‘tiptops’ come to yours. I am not suro what wiies were pulled to make the X.’s and \ .’s and Z.’s come to the Olymbers’ dance, but I suspect some of them. I know that Mrs. Z.’s most intimate friend, <* whom she is really devoted, has anew diamond spray; that Mr. X., whose af fairs every one said were shaky, has pull ed himself together, and Mrs. Y.’s fav orite charity had a most munificent check from i Mr. C. Anyway, they came: the ball was an immense success and the Clymbers are now fairly in the 6wim.” A Mother’s Reasoning— I miss the little, laughing baby face**, The loving ey< s that always turned to me: I miss the roguish ways and elfish graces Of little forms that clustered at my knee. Of rosy lips that left such happy kisses Upon my ever-willing cheek and brow. And, oh! the thousand nameless joys and bliss s That once I had, but only dream of now’! And vef r know full well if Time could bear me Back to the days of proud young moth erhood. I’d miss the gentle presence ever near me Of those who as my grown-up babies stood. To bn without my boy’s strong reassur ance, To be without my girl's sweet sym pathy, Would go beyond my heart’s most firm endurance, E’en though my babies clung again to me! Well, motherlike. I miss the bonny tresses That lay upon my breast in tangled curl; Yet T would die to lose the love that blesses My whole life, in my grown-up boy and girl. —The Presbyterian Journal. The New York Press is entitled the oredir for the following reflections of an old bachelor: r? a thin, woman is rich, she is only e 1 i ght. The closer you get to her the more far away look a girl gets. A man’s ambition is to be noted; n wo man's to be noticed. No man knows w'hat it means to suc ceed with a woman till he has failed with one. A woman can conceal her age, but ■when i man plays golf he has got to shcw his legs. The best way for n woman to get rid of a man she doesn’t like her husband to like, is to treat him too nice. There is never any hope for a man his wife gets so she thinks she can pick out his clothes best for him. If a man apologized to company for his wife’s cooking half ae much as she does herself, she would go home to her moth er. Half the time when a man lie** to his wife, he does it because he knows he can get up n story that will sound a lot more reasonable to her than the truth. The woman of to-day does rot tell her husband everything she does. This is net staled as a matter of news, but simply to assure the husband who has found his Wife out that he is not alone. Some years ogo it would have been thought monstrous for a woman to have an income derived from a source kept secret from the mart she has sworn to love, honor and some times obey, but to-day such a thing ex cites little remark. Yet w ith all the progress of recent years in this direction It Is rare that a woman has become famous without her husband's knowledge. Such a case, however, is of record. A young London solicitor rec n'- ly found himself in financial difficulties owing to a fall In Kaffir shares, in which he had speculated rather rashly shortly before war in South Africa became a cer tainty. Like many husbands, be never troub’ed his w6fe with his business affairs until his position became so ominous that he felt it would be only right to warn her of the crash which seemed inevitable. Having learned the exact amount of money neces sary to cover the deficiency, she astonish ed him by offering to find the money with in three hours. Explanations folowed and he discovered for the first time ihat his wife had secretly devoted ell her 'eis ure to novel writing and had met with such astonishing success that she had three novels publ'shed under a masculine nom de plume in four years and had real ized from them more than twice the supi necessary to save the situation. The rea son for the secrecy was that she hud written the first novel to suprprise her htisband. and when he read it upon publi cation he expressed so poor an opinion of it that she resolved to keep her secret as lone as possible. But the success her novel met decided her to continue writing and she has now. needless to say, the most hearty encouragement from her hus band. An unfortunate estrangement was caus ed by an army officer discovering, upm his recall from India, that his wife had seoertly gone into business during his long absence from home. Although a wo man moving in the best society and pos sessed of an enormous circle of friends, she had successfully launched herself in to trad* without the knowledge of any of her acquaintances, taking over a modest cigar store in a street not far from Shaftesbury avenue, where her beautiful face which was famous in the best draw ing-rooms in London, attracted innumer able customers, any one of whom might have been an intimate friend and expo-ed the whole business. Assisted bv a young woman, howev r she was able to attend shop or rot, Just as her private engagements permitted and it was very rarely she served across ? he counter after 7ln the evening. Never theless the greater part of every week day She devoted to pushing her business, and she had already trebled the turnover be fere she was detected, which occurred in a manner not quite clear, hut almost Im mediately upon the return of her hus band. -I love a beautifully worked darn!” said a good housekeeper to a New York Tri bune wtlter. "II Implies so much. If I see table linen that has been carefully mended I say to myself. 'That woman la an excellent housemlstress, and a *lrl whose stockings are neatly darned by her self Is a girl after my own heart. I tell mv sons to find out If a girl dims hr stockings before asking her to matry. I know one young woman who s. We up her stockings with black thread, and an - otlver who wears a stocking until it Is useless and then gives It nway. I hop* neither of those girl, will Income my daughter-in-law. A neatly nvndel glove or carefully darned stocking, I say to my liovs Is fur more attractive than a per fectely new article, for It shows the char apipr of its owner. "Some old-fashioned writer of moral t iles tells how a young man falls In love with a girl because of u dear little darn in the toe of her stocking, her dipper having been stuck In the mud, while lor far mom beautiful sister revolts him by betraying inadvertently a hole In the l ed of her silken hose. I dore suv the ren 'n those old sotrles who bestow their af fections with so much discrimination seem like absurd prigs to the g.rl of the THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, JUNE 24, 1900. Borfltngcr Glass craft I . r NUMBER TWELVE. ' Suggestions or ■*&■ I Coming Style It isn’t prophecy, but simply the advantage of position, -which leads us to observe and note the signs whi ch point to this tendency or that in the world of glassware. The signals now indicate the coming uie of light fine ware, with little cutting ®and light decorations, for table service. Sold all over the United States by This trade- C. DQRFLINGER 8c SONS mark label on everypie. BROADWAY . NEW YORK period, but after all it is the hom*ly vir tues that wear the best, and a < man might do worse than choose a wife on account of her housewifely merits.’’ A Topeka Kansas dispatch the New York Sun says: The wearing, of b oomer uniforms by a basketball lean ► of girls at the Kansas. State Normal School has started a row between the fac illy and re gents which has been car rife] to Gov. Stanley and which may result: in several removals. During the past fejw months Miss Anna Stone, who has charge of the dei>artment of physical cultu re at the State Normal School, has beta training two teams of girls for a match game of basketball, to be played as a part of the exercises of commencement wv* k. The training took place in the g nmnaMum, where the other students were i <*t permit ted to see the girls in uniform.. The question of the propriety of the girls wearing their uniforms luring ihe public game came up and Miss £ Hone final ly gave her consent. The appe nrance of the girls thus attired created qu Ire a stir. A photographer placed his can Kara in a convenient place and secured a g ood pic ture of the players and Miss SIU ne. The latter then refused to permit the*game to go on unless the authorities of iThe ‘nsti tution should secure the plate. The pho tographer refused to surrender :K. The impatient auditnee began shouting “Play ball!” and the girl** mutitiled and played the game against the order of their teacher. Miss Stone car;n ed the matter to President Taylor and usl-cd that the refractory girls be suspend id. lie sustained Miss Stone and was ibout to take action when John Madden, resident member of the Board of Regent a, inter fered. Both sides are making a firm st£\c and. The faculty is selected by the of re gents. The members of the boart I of re gents are appointed by the Gove mor. If he sustains the board there will urobably be several resignations in the facu II y t*s a result of the Incident. A speeiaj meet ing of the board has been called an and will be attended by Gov. Stanley. Mr. Madden made and won the fi £ht for the retention of Prof. Chrismari, v'no re cently offended the Congress of Me others at I>es Moines by declaring th-at tut *’o not love. * The status of farmers' wives is 9ect iring unusual consideration these days i r* the columns of agricultural Journals through out the country as well as at gath tringa of farmers. At a recent institute lu ?ld in Kentucky Mrs. Lucy Cleavor Me filroy spoke some pungent truths these drudges of the farm. "At lhe first gray streak of daw'n,” she said, "the wife's pet rooster crows long .and loud. He does it on purpose to a Walken her from her beauty sleep, and is alw ys successful. She has obeyed lire * tum nions so often that it has become se ccni nature, and before she realizes it -tj |e :s out of the warm blankets. noise! etsly trembling in her clothes lest she wak r the sleeping baby: half clad, her cold fin fere still fidgeting with her brooch, she scs- mp ers to the kitchen. Once there a nerv-ous fear that breakfast may be late st Ize* her and she rushed about until it is on the table and the family seated, when tihe draws her first long breath while tihe blessing is being asked. The breakfast boiled in hot haste and the man .tff to work, she resumes her hurry, sennit s through the dishwashing and kitsti * work, hastens through bedmaklng unit housecleaning, skims over milk vessels* refrigerators and churning, hurries to ths garden for vegetables, rushes through din. ner, mokes her fingers fly on the after, noon sewing and scouring, so she m6-y worry through supper at the proper hou (, to sink exhausted into a c'na'r at bb time, too weary to speak or think. "How would our Southern farms im> prove if the women would but know that a part of their tme position on the farm is to make farm life beautiful. Can there , then, be a question that the true pofiuoi i of woman on a farm Is yet among tb e problems of the future? When the farn n progresses to the position of a well-ord r ed business, having its debit and credit account with each of its fields and indus tries; when its capital is fairly apportion ed to the different branches of work and! Its receipts are correspondingly divided'; when the farmer admits the wife as hit* business partner, entitled to her Just star* of the profits of the farm, and when ho remembers that 'woman won' does not necessarily mean that neglect ar.d ,nulf ference are as acceptable to the wife as arder and attention were to ih& sweetheart when the woman om the farm realizes that upon her depend not only the cooking. th care of the children and other domestic, duties, but that everything that make* life on the farm pleasant as far at neat ness taste and embellishment can make it are her especial charge, and that she also must remember in the hard-work Ing. aging husband the lover of her youth, then and only then, will woman s true position on the farm be reached, and the garden of Eden will find again a place on earth a rural life will become the envy of those bred and dwelling in the confine ments of city life.” "I did ten strokes better in golf this morning." said a young girl, as she threw herself down on a chair by her mother. The latter laughed: "Do you know why. she asked slyly."lt is because I let out vour stays before you put them on, and you were in such a hurry you. never-no ticed it." Thereupon, says the New York Tribune, followed a brisk argument, and, of course, the usual assertion* on the part of the young woman—how she always wore her cloth,* "looser than any girl she knew.” etc -all the protestations with which every mother is . "But why is it, queried the parent, ig noring the usual asseverations, "that you and your friends consider small waists so desirable? What possible difference can a couple of Inches make In VOW fu t„re except, perhaps, to render It misera ble by causing ill-health? Who will ad mire you more because of it, or love you better for The reason that your waist measures 21 inches instead of 24 or 2o in ches' I cannot tell you how foolish I think It is of you girls to sacrifice so much for so little?" . . "What Is that story,” exclaimed the daughter mischievously, "that your moth er used to tell you about Mary with a thick waist and Emma with a tiny one, and how Emma died with consumption nnd Mary married Emma's lover? But Emma had the lover, you see, In the first place and why, O dearest mamma, was It necessary to tell you that story? Did you not. perhaps, pull the strings of your corsets also Just a little hit tight? Whereupon her mother laughed consci ously, for she. too. had been proud in days gone by of her slender figure. Tight lacing Is by no means a thing or the past, as so many seem to think, and how the athletic young woman of to-day can perform the feats that she accom plishes with a squeezed-ln waist is one of the marvels of physiology, going to prove more than ever that we are “fearfully and wonderfully made.” Dead Rcses— Beloved, the hours that I spent with you Were like unto white roses when the new Swift Spring bends over each to mako it fair Nay. was It fault of mine I plucked so few? Ah, me! my rose that T bore away Faded to memories within a day; But I have pressed their petals In my heart— In its closed pages are they shut alway. Yes, sweet, comfort is there in this thing: Though I plucked no new buds in any Spring. Listen! I turn the pages of my heart— Can you not hear dead roses rustling? —Theodosia Garrison, in the Smart Set. In France women are allowed to wear male attire, but they must pay for the privilege. The amount of the tax which a woman pays for wearing breeches is about £2 a year; but her willingness to pay the tax does not insure her the right to wear these garments. Asa matter of fact, the right is conferred by the gov-, eminent as a tribute of great merit, and the honor conferred is something like that of the coveted ribbon of the Legion of Honor. The only woman to whom the right to wear male attire has been given are Georges Sand. Rosa Bonheur, Mme. Dieu lufoy, the Persian archaeologists; Mme. Foucalt, the bearded woman; Mmes. Fourreau and La Jeannette, both sculp tors. French women are very anxious some times for the right to wear male attire, but it is carefully guarded. Last year the government was petitioned In vain by Madame de Valsayre. This lady is well known for her propensity to fight duels, and her efforts to get elected to the French Assembly. She Is a pretty woman with a profusion of blonde hair, but her beauty had no effect on the hearts of the authorities, who sternly refused to allow her the coveted privilege. Clement Scoit pays the following tribute to American women in a recent London publication: “You must meet Americans in their own to find how gracious, kindly-hearted and hospitable they are. HospUJble. I nit an. not only in giving you the best they can afford, but In go in# oui of their way to sivo their guests a happy time under roof. “Say you are invited to a dinner party. You discover an air cf geniality and gav ety directly the street door closes behind you. No stlffmss or formality or stand offishness mars those cmetim 6 n cold and ghastly moments that precede a dinner party at hom©. The introductions are cheerfully done and often with a sense cf humor. The conversation at once be omes general and animated. You are In a happy family circle in less than five minutes. “You are asked to be the e cort of some highly-educated lady, beautifully dressed and in excellent taste, as ail Americans are, and, in nine cases out of ten. with th* glorious hair of * very imaginable tint and shade, Loin gold to red, which is the pride of the American race. “You will have, b°li*ve me, to hold your own with this delightful dinner compan ion. Tt will not be the case of a cold and cheerl-ss siatue and having to draw rter out. Quite the contrary. She will do her utmost to draw you out and test your knowledge on every conceivable subject, and von will find her well informed on almost every topic, social or literary, that generally occupies conversation. “U is the rarest thing to find any American woman who does not know something, and that somethirg nccuratfly, on a variety of subjects, ordinary and abstruse. Your partner will arguo with you with skill ami acumen, never dog matically, and will end by making you as pleased with yourself as she very likely is with herself. “Thfn the host and hostess do their utmost to make the conversation amus ing and general. It is a case of give and take all around. Whenever we drove honv* from an American dinner party there was but one remark, ‘What a delightful even ing!’ “American women love to congregate and discuss matters dear and Interesting to them. They never waste time on frivol.” The fashionable women of Persia, saya the New York Sun. have finally deetd and .to adopt European dress, and the ser -1 .ices of the dressmakers in Teheran are ► eld to te rewarded now at a fatu’- ' cqs rate. All the women of the capital decided suddenly to abandon their naive <iress and appear in costume< modelled after the fashions of the Boulevard des Capucines. * Only three foreign dressmakers live in Teheran. Two of them are French wo ttl 'n, while the third Is a native who spent some years in Europe. Now there is a profitable held for the labors cf m: ny others. a the European mode of dr ss will in all probability be retained thi sre. ’. The Persian women are said to be ex tr vagantly luxurious in matters of dress. Tb e thr.e seamstresses in the town have rat sd their prices, which their customers I ay without protest. The task of sud d e.lly dressing the wealthy women of an e tttlre city, who decided one day to abun d on their traditional garb and follow Eu r jpean modes, was of course, too much ( r the dressmakers. They had to take t e ladles according to their rank and <filarged them prices beyond anything tin t even the Persian women had ever pal. 1 before, qg ,t question of gowns was not the only ot lie that confronted the Persian women w tho changed their ld*as of dress. Cor s ‘.s, which they had never worn before, tvdd to he provided, and that task proved qhe most difficult of all. They had always bean looked upon in the past as highly fori unate in being free from the bondage of the corset and had always escaped th dine a scs of women which it was supposed to cause. 'jlSeheran Is said to be regarded now as .a 4 londike for French milliners and drea smakers, who are moving toward it rapji Uy. and as the Persians are not as ■tec well Informed about the fashions tjiei aIV carrying with them anything they could find ready. "F. >r one thing European women are to b en vied," said a student of singing who has 1 ust returned from a sojourn .if three yeart tin Europe. "That is the facility with whla h they ate able to keep lady's maids on lit itle or no Income. I have known wo w<m abroad to keep maids when I have wwf.dered how they could employ them w torking on the meager wardrobes they s (pined to possess. "A lady's mold is looked upon by most A .lnerican women as a luxury. An Ameri c in woman never thinks of engaging a n i:ltd until she has pretty nearly every -1.1.1 mg else In the world that a reasonable, woman would want. After she has a**- qulred Jewelry, clothes and an income which is likely to enable her to enjoy these things permanently, she thinks of getting a maid to take care of them. Rut the maid abroad is a necessity, to Judge from her unexpected appearance in the ser vice of many women. I have met frowzy old women of title in Germany, dressed in shabby black and living In small ho tels of the kind I visited, who might have gone for years without anew bonnet, to Judge by their appearanA*. But they all had their maids. 1 found the same thing true In France. Thin, sharp-faced, un married women, who had long passed tHe age at which they needed the protection of a maid amt who mighi Ik* entirely with out vanity or thought for their personal appearance, to judge by their looks, had their maids. English women who would ask for the smallest and cheapest room In the hotel and would haggle with the proprietor over rales until he was almost ready to let them go rather than take, off a cent more, might arrive with a very small allowance of luggage, but their maids were in charge of it. “No American woman who had *o live so economically as these women would over think of dragging a maid after her. But it always seemed as if the maid were a distinctly necessary part of the existence of the women to whom I refer. Most of them looked a* if they had a hard time in struggling along themselves, but they were determined to get the comfort that itime from having a maid to look after them. Most women appreciate the luxury that is supplied by the service of a maid, even if they would not consider that it afforded sufficient compensation for the economy necessary in other directions. The foreign er has her maid, however, even if she has to be parsimonious in other matters.” One reason for the custom of employing lady’s maids in Europe, even when the mistress is not rich, says th<* New t^ork Sun, could probably be found in the great er cheapness of living for servants abroad. In New York hotels the mistress must pay nearly as mu< h for her maid’s entertainment us for her own. and, com bined with the maid’s wages, the cost for keeping her can be borne only by the wealthy, or at least by those who cun in dulge themselves in any luxury they de sire. Lady's maids are so roro in the United States that no arrangements for housing them reasonably have ever been made. The lady’s maid is probably em ployed as frequently hero as in Europe in the families of well-to-do people. Probably every New York family of a certain in come employs ong or more ladv’a maids, in accordance with the number of daugh ters there may be in the household. Un der such circumstances a lady’s maid is loss expensive than she is in a hotel. Maids who are not accomplished seam stresses will find It difficult to get employ ment. They are relied upon to do much of the plain sewing of the young girls and usually make their gowns when these are not too ell>orale. It is only to the woman who boards that the lady’s maid is a lux ury in this country. To look trim in her shirt waist, says the N*\v York KerukV. seems to be an im possibility to the average summer girl. Apparently she goes on the principle that because the waist is loose It requires no attention beyond putting on and buttdn ing. Nothing could be further from the fact. Gareful adjustment is necessary to gi,vo the good fitting, well put together appearance. Large safety pins or white beaded pine* three inches long should be regarded as oomplementnl of every shirt waist. Use three, or perTiapg four, of these, prefera bly the white hced<d ones. Having put on and buttoned a shirt waist, first pin the back down to the corsets below the waist line. F’ull ike sh4rt well clown before adjust ing the pin. This improves the fit and reveals the curve of the back, one of the prettiest of feminine lines. Next see that the fronts of the waist from the under arm seam to the gathers are smooth on the figure, then pin each side securely down to the corset on a line with the back. This done, the dress skirt may be put on. and that fastened In the Iwck #o the shirt with the fourth pin. About the waist then goee the belt, and the arrange* meat Is complete. ►Shirts are sometimes made with a gath ering string which pulls from the back of the wai-st. tying in front, and these are worn by a number of deluded women, who fancy that because they lie a string about the waist they are getting a trig effect. On the contrary, of all shirts this style Is most “sloppy.” The gathers spread unbecomingly, pull up out of place, and after an hour of wearing the whole waist has the appearance of trying to wrest itself from its owner. Some women have eyes sewed on the backs of their shirts. This, as far as it goes, is recommended for trigness, birt is disastrous to the ahirt, for the weight of the skirt is often too great a strain; more over. the eyes frequently tear the fa bile in the wash and never fail to rust, leaving two bad stains. Shirt waists wrinkled in front and back, pulling up from the belt and generally askew, are more commonly seen than in necessary. There is no reason why they should not fit as well as the body of i tailor gown. Rut it does not all lie with the shirtmnker. The woman must do her part. We will fit the thing well, but defrauded of bones to guarantee its per fect shape. So the woman, If she b* trig, shape* it herself. And this she does by pulling it in close all around to her figure and firmly fastening it to her corsets with three long white headed pins. Taking Up a Claim The Story of Tucker A Hos% Ileal , Kstate. IIY CHARLES R. niIIMBLECRM. The deputy assessor snapped the elas tic band around his bulky took after duly setting forth therein the possessions cf Tucker & Rose: “Real estite: S. E. Va, se< tion 15, township 8. soi th range 3 wen, etc.; 83 acres orchard, 12 acres pasture and hay land, 65 acres timber land.” “Well, you ain’t a-goln* before dinner, so Jest £et right down here," said Ezra Tucker, genially, and the tired cfli lal cKd not hesita/e to accept a seat on the co 1 venranda betide his host. “You’ve lived here a lor.g time,’* raid the deputy. “Twenty-seven year this spring,” re plied Tuck* r. “Made some little changes in that time, too. Mighty nUh this whole claim was thi k woods when I fust seen It. “’Twas a cjt'ous hing, too. I’ll fell you how ’twas. You see, I kinder got a notion that it would be a good to take up some gov’ment land, so I rode up here from Santa (’ruz, sixteen mile, over a pesky trad, and my /rands, ti e Crawfords, over here on the San Lo renzo, they showed mo tils quarter-at c tion. “Thee was a 1 ‘t'e shuck of a ca la on the place, bjiilt by Tom Tudor, a feller who used to hunt and 1 trap for a livin', l ut he never pre-empud the land, and at that time he’d Konu to Arizona. 8 I took up the janch, without any ide of trouble, and then went hack to Santa Cruz o git n me? things, ’cause 'cordin' to law. you hud to live on your claim six months before you could prove up. ••Rut th • re xt lime I com-* up, Mnl eolmb Crawford, he told me that he’d heard there was another feller prospect in’ 'round my ranch. He'd been up ttnro himself with his gun io Inquire about It. but didn't se notoiy; but he sail I’d he4ter git up th**re a qul k the Lord w uld let me, and hold down tHo claim. “I left my horse at Crawford’s ‘cause there want much feed In the woods, and made up a pack of flour, bacon, cofL-o and .lUgar. and Malcolm lent me a shotgun that he said might come in handy, on ihe way up I fired both barrels of tie gun at some quail, and then I found that Id forgot to bring any ammunition. “Everything was still as death, ©x.*ept the crickets chirpin’ with a lonesome Greater Bargains Than Ever! The Last Week of Our Stock-Taking Sale Will Be Made Profitable to Buyers. A Great Clean Sweep Will Be Made, Prices No Ob ject—the Goods “ MUST BE SOLD. “ THE STOCK-TAKING SALE Irish Linen Lawns, “Genuine Imported," at 19 Cents Imported Zephyr Ginghams, "The Latest,’’ at 19 Cents Irish Dimities, “The Very Best Qualities,’’ at 19 Cents White Batiste Mull, “Very Fine and Sheer,” at 19 Cents White India Linun, “Exquisite 25c Goods," at 19 Cents 40 Cents Choice Embroideries, “Best Ever Sold,” at 19 Cents ,50 Cents Ladies’ Laundered Shirt Waists at 29 Cents Best duality Taffeta Silks, "All New Shades,” at 69 Cents Ecru Pongee Silks, “imported From China,” at 50 Cents Black China Silks, at 33c, at 39c, at 49c, at 69 Cents 50c Towels Reduced to 25c 51.25 Black Taffeta Silks, 27 Inches Wide, at 88 Cents SIOO Black and Colored Serges. 54 Inches, at 59 Cents 10 Yards of Best 27-inch Wide Diaper, at 69 Cents Men's Fancy Dress Shirts, Select Styles, at 39 Cents Men’s India Gauze Undershirts go at 15 Cents Solid Colored Pique, the 19c Quality, at 40 Cents 19 Cents Lawns, Madras and Organdies at 10 Cents 20 Cents Edgings and Insertings, a Gilt, at 10 Cents 25 Cents White Checked Dimity Corded at 15 Cents 45 Cents Genuine French Organdies Now at 25 Cents A Great Handkerchief at 3c $2.00 White Shirt Waists, Choice Styles, at SI.OO $4.00 White Shirt Waists, Very Finest, at $2.23 $1.50 Plain and Fancy Linen Crash Skirts at 88 Cents Applique Skirts, an Absolute Slaughter, at $5.00 White and Fancy Parasols, $2.50 Quality, at $1.50 $2.00 Iron Grenadine. Plain or Striped, at $1.25 $1.50 Pure Irish Linen Table Damask at 98 Cents $1.50 Pure Irish Linen Dinner Napkins at 99 Cents $2.00 Black Silks, Satins and Armnre at $1.25 Yard-wide Blcachings and Sea Islands at 5 Cents No Fake! Every Item is Here in Ample Quantity, as Advertised. The Best Goods in Savannah Less Than the Trash Elsewhere 1 GUSTAVE ECKSTEIN & CO. sound, and I put the things in the cabin. There was a lit tie 11 r place built of mud and sticks in one end, with a chimney of split l>oards, and I built a lire to git a bite of supper. “As I was ptundln,' in the doorway feel in' kinder doleful, I sec a man with a pack on his hack cornin’ up the trail. He was si out and his fac© was preity red, and when he se© me It got quite a bit redder. He, come up puffin’ and seemed put out ’ Ik>ut someihing, and Jest then it come into my head that mebbe he was the other feller. “ ‘What you doin’ in that cabin T he says, real cross. “ 'My residence at present,’ say I. ‘Won’t you com© in?’ “ ‘None o’ your blarsted sqrc*e wi’ me,’ he says. ‘This ’ere Is my claim, and I want you to git off it directly.’ “ ‘You're laborin' under a slight mis take.’ says I. ‘This is my claim; but you n< . dn*t be in a hurry ’bout goin’. 6tay till mornin’, anyway. Darned if I ain’t glad of company.’ “Well, wo talked awhile, and he kep* gittin* madder and madder. “ ‘You’ve got the advantage of me now,’ he ro.irs out, ‘but if it wa’nf for Ihat bloody gun you’ve got so ‘andy I’d put you out o’ my cabin quleker’n a wink.’ “ ‘You needn’t fret about the gun,’ I says. (I’d left It outside leanln’ agin tho cabin.) ‘Why, I fired off both barrels at some quail down here, and I didn't bring, a mite o’ ammunition with me.’ “ ‘You carn’t come it on me,’ he says, kinder sneerin. ‘You’d like to hentlco me lo come on and then let me 'ave it, wouldn’t you?’ “ ‘Well, take the pesky gun and se for yourself,’ I says, holdin’ it out toward him. “ 'No, you don’t, old smoothy,’ he says, turnin’ away. “ ‘Come in and hav© a bite of supper, anyhow.’ I says. ‘The water's bllln’ and ni make some coffee In n Jiffy.’ “He grumbled something, end went off and camped under nil oak tree a little ways off. That’s the very tree down there by the barn. “I’d done my best to b© sociable, so I made my coffee and fried some bacon, gome way ’twas kinder pleasant to -ee th© other feller’s fire. but he lookel mighty crusty and didn’t have a word more to say. • After supper T lit a piece of candl© end read a newspaper that I’d brought from town, but I got s*h-cpv pretty quick iipread my blankets in the l unk I shut the door and put a prop .agin it—nor that I was tfraid. but T Jest happened to think that I didn’t really know anything al>out the other feller. “I was oiT to sleep in a minute, and th* next tiling I know was seeln’ a big glare of light and feelln* things gittin’ pesky hot. I Jumped up, and. Lord! if the wnoie end of the cabin won’t in ablaze! •“Gosh all hemlock!’ I says He’* b id man and Is tryln’ to burn me up, s-ure as tho devil's an Injun.’ “Hut jo*t then 1 I heard an awful ham nv-rlrr on tho 'loor and tho other feller hollerin’: “ ‘Git up, you blarsted fool! I>o you want lo be' rooked alive? Turn out, and be d—d to you.' . . . . "Then I Jedged that the fire had caught In th* old dry chimney. I bounced ur> and irrablea] the coffee pot and threw the irrounds on the conflagration, but it didn’t <|o a mite o' good, so 1 kicked away the prop and run out, kinder singed. I I'lck. C.l UP a low. Stick and began to knock ofT the boards that was afire, but the Idiot that built the caldn had nailed 'em on from the Inside, and wlcn I knockrd 'em oil they all tumbled Inside, of course, and I had to run in and drajr ’em out, and I burnt mv hands pretty bad. The other feller had been standln' off, laughin' kind er sarcastic. .. 'Much oblceged to you for wakln m, I says, us tie started back to his camp. " '.With blamed carelessness I never see,' he Krowls. 'You’ve got to repair my cabin or pay for It.’ "I out n few saplln's and set em up agin the open erid of the cabin. It was moonlight, and 1 could see pretty well. Then I . rawied into the bunk again. I didn’t prop the door thi* time, but I wish ed I had afterward. My hands hurt me so bad that I couldn’t sleep, and I turned and twisted for an hour. "All at once I heard something. My bloc.l all turned lo tee and my hair brlalled like a shoe brush. It was a soft, hut heavy tread, and u loud, hoarse breathin' Just outside the cabin close to my head. ! And then 1 smelt somethin* like a pig sty. I knew well enough what It was. There was only the thickness of a split clap-board between mo and a big bear! ‘ "1 began to think like chain lightning. The shotgun 'twa'n’t louded, and If it had been charged to the muzzle ‘twould only sting him and motto him mad as a hor net. i might climb upon the croas beams. Pshaw! They wa'n't seven foot from the floor, and one scoop of his paw would bring me down like a ripe plum. "Not. thlnkin' of anything sensible to do, I didn’t do nothin', but I kep' still as I • ver kep' in my life. 1 fairly shrunk up like a withered potato. “The bear walked slowly around thg cabin, breathin’ as if he had the asth ma. Pretty soon I saw him through tba saplin's, and 1 knew he could brush ’em away like smoke. He lifted up his big head and looked toward me, and I'll take my solemn oath that he was bigger than any bull ihat ever pawed the earth. Ha stuck out hln nose and sniffed with a dreadful noise. I tried to think of the Lord's prayer. "Hurt pretty soon he moved on and I heard him chompin' file bacon rlnda out side. He walked around the cabin four tim.-s, and eveiy time he stopped and sniffed closer to the saplin’s. 'Twas only the smell of tlie fire that kep' him from cornin' in, that's sure Then he moved OiT. for 1 didn't smell him anymore. All of a sudden I made one Jump to tho door, cusstn’ myself for a darned cow ard. There I'd been thlnkin' 'bout myself ail the time when that other poor feller was sleepin’ in the open, and tho boar would be sure to visit him after flnishln' with me! And he'd been kind enough to sa v mo from burnin' up, too. 1 run out hollerin' to him: " 'Look out, pardner, there's a grizzly around!" " 'Tell mo somo news, will you,’ come a grouty voice out of the air, It seemed to me. I looked up and saw something dork up the oak tree, about as high aa a man could well go. “ 'You're roostin' high,’ I says. 'Did ha take aft, r you?' " ‘I seen ’im a-comln' and I didn’t stop for lunch,' says he. Me blankets Is rtb hona, and he's eat everything but the as and fryln’ pan.' “'Will, slid,, down and make a break for the c:t! in. He ain’t in sight now.' " 'Thank ye, I'm comfortable,' says he. "However. I talked him into cornin' down, and he made a very pretty run for the cabin. I couldn't have best It myself, and I wes pretty spry in those day . We slipped in and propped the do, r and he began to cuss a fool who would come uway and forgit his ammu nlll n. "Daylight was an awful long time a-comin', but it showed up at last. Wo built a tire and made some coffee, but we d'dn't fry no bacon. "The other fellow seemed kinder blue. I felt sorry for him, so I says: “ ‘My friend, you can have this ranch* 1 don’t like to interfere with anybody** plans, and my business in town Is press in’, anyway. You con have my blankets and what grub Is left, and I’ll bid you gol-by.' " 'No you don’t,’ ho ho’lered, Jumpin' up. ‘This ’er ranch is yourn. I wao oily Jokin’ last night. The climate 'or* , oft agree si' me. I mu-t be oft.' " "I couldn’t think of It,' says I. ’You ran mak ■ a nice home out of It. Good luck to you.’ " 'I means what I says,’ he growls, real hufTy. 'This ’ere ranch Is yourn, and don’t you insult me by Insinuating that I’m trying' lo git It you.' "Well, the upsho' of it was that we had a blgxer quarrel than we had the night before.” Ezra Tucker laughed and slapped his knee. "But, how did it come out?” asked the deputy assessor. "Oh the other feller Is Rose, thy part ner. We got over our scare and we both stayed. Th-re's Ros- cornin’ now, end I guess dinner’s ready.” —Bishop Lcnihan (Roman Catholic), of Auckland, who has Just pars-d through the United State* on his way home, after an ofllclal visit to Rome and a tour of Europe, enler-d the New Zealand mls siomry field when twenty-four years old. In 1896. on the death of Bishop Luck, he was consecrated bishop. Thhs is the first vacation he has had since entering tho missionary field. 13