Below is the OCR text representation for this newspapers page.

8 THE REJUVENATING WAIST. WOMEN LOVE IT BECArSE IT MAKES WEARERS LOOK YOUNG. The LatPßt Fnrlaiun BrfMf Has Blown the Trouvtlle Shirt Walwt OTer Herr—Some Vital Qneallons of Taste In Rreard to the Correct Sleeve to Wear To-ilny Each Woman Ia Loir Into Herself o> to the Way She Shall Clothe Her Arm—lin|)Oi*tnnt Trifles That Af trct the TolletP of Well Dresse.l Women. New York, Aug. 10.—It is the endearing young charm of the shirtwaist that holda variable woman ever true to it, for while y:her fashions come nnd go, the shirt waist wears on forever. A man who is rapidly making his millions on the soie manufacture of this garment has been pondering the stability of the cotton bod ice. He has come to the conclusion that woman loves It, not only because it Is cool and easy, but because she feels she looks young when slipped in its becoming em brace. There Is, make it how and of what you will, an Indefinable, but none the less surely unmistakable, air of juve nility about it —an air that Is more or less caught by Its wearer. A tvomon of 60, arrayed in a smart shirtwaist and crisp necktie, feels the sap of fifteen latent in her veins; therefore the manu facturer of these youth-giving garments has figured it out that his grandchildren, even unto the 'steenth generation, will continue to roll in riches won from th*‘ making of pretty muslin, percale, silk and flannel bodice*. At this moment the reigning shirtwaist leans to spots or tucks or Insertions, and the feminine populace is bent on wearing white. Nine-tenths of the women, what ever skirt* they wear, cling to a cool While Muslin and rink Crepe Gown?. crispness of speckless lawn or white dot ted muslin above the belt, while there l a remnant, and perhaps the most fash ionable remnant, exploiting chambrny, percale and French gingham shirts of white, with big Sevres blue, or sealing wax red, or sweet pea pink dots sparingly sprinkled on the snowy background. Shirt Aoveltle*. The latest breeze from Paris has blown us the Trouvllle shirt waist of two ac ceptable types. The goods is the thinnest, silkiest mohair In a Sastei tint. Jet us say of rose, with big dots of rich red thereon, elee a cream white shirt Is besprent with dots In a half dozen pastel colors, one blue, ona green, one rose, one lilac, and so 'A Fresh Summer Toilet for Country Wear. on, and the girl who wears such a bit of twentieth century color twi©rs about her throat a ecarf of wide cream whit© liberty silk. It goes around twice, knots in front and then waves on every lightest zephyr a long pair of sash ends finished with frills. A delicate question needing decision Is whether ’tis smarter to wear a shirt with a heavy linen cuff or a shirt finished with a dress sleeve. The dress sleeves are pret ty, but the stiff cuffs certainly are a degree more modish. This brings us right around to a ques tion of sleeves in general, for on the nrms a good half of all artistic effort and dress trimming goes. In the short space of one season we have developed at least nine hundred and sixty-nine different and wholly commendable way© of decking sleeves, end every day sees new fashions of this branch added to the list. The rea son of this lies in the fact that every wo man is a law unto heiself in the making of her arm casings. She is privileged to turn her cuffs up or down, or have none at all. to run her sleeves clear down to her second knuckles or crop them off at the elbows, to set them in the armhole© with a little puffing or fit them as flat as those in a man's coat, and the consequence is a novelty In sleeves for nearly every gown that is made. Skirt Decoration*. Next, after the Interest in sleeve cul ture, the trimming of skirts is attract ing the greatest amount of feminine at tention just now. There is a charming sketch given to illustrate how far along In this direction we have gone already, and what the autumn tendency Is going t> be. The winter goods do not Invite flounce effects, therefore the broad box pleat, ns the sketch clearly shows, will form a species of drapery, and. as this is a white cloth gown, from the hips to the knees nearly a layer of coarse ecru iace is laid on the cloth between the pleats. Where the lace sheathing ends a scarf of the softest worm yellow Per sian satin clasps the skirt. This runs over some pleats, and under others, and a little to the left of the front, is finished In a bow. Decorations of wee gold but- tons are set on above and below the sash on those pleats under which it passes, and upon the tvalst all this ornamental treatment is repeated. A crush belt of yellow fotill encircles the waist, and sloshed tabs, trimmed with buttons, fall at the wrists over full frills of lace. Two Renatlful Summer Gowns. Figure I—This dathlng summer frock Is shown In the popular and always effective black snd white The drtes is made of crisp, sheer white muslin, ornamented with block lace and narrow black velvet ribbon. The skirt, cut In graceful, flow ing folds, Is finished t the foot with two flounces, edged wllh three rows of nar row bluck velvet ribbon and a niching THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 12, 1900. of narrow black lace. The full baby waist is trimmed with broad appliqued hands of black lace, edged with the vel- I vet, the same garniture appearing on the sleeves. The yoke is trimmed with cir ! eular bands of black velvet, and finished with a wide ruffle, edged with a narrow' ruching of black lace, surmounted with the narrow velvet ribbon. The girdle in of black velvet, and the hat Is of rough white chip, trimmed with great chous of white chiffon, relieved with touche© of black velvet. Figure 2.—Parisian art Is shown in every line of this beautiful creation. It is made of pale pink crape, with a garniture of applique face and pink ribbon. The tucked corsage Is folded over, surplice fashion, and caught at the left side with a gold buckle. The wide shaped collar is draped in front and finished with .1 big ohou of crepe. It is elaborately ornamented with an applied band of cream lace in a bold design, over which Is a waving design of gathered pink satin ribbon with small ribbon rosettes. A ruching of pink chiffon edges the collar and the close fitting sleeves of tucked crape. The tuck ed yoke is of cream mousseline de sole, with a high stock of the same. The train ed skirt is garnitured with a waving de sign In ribbon and rosettes as an access ory to the elaborate lace applique. The Necktie Contest. There seems to be a sort of necktie con test going on. No two women have the same kind of collar decoration, and every thing, save leather straps and shoestrings, have been commandeered for use in a des perate striving after unique shapes and L. - r ■ -- - Eight Now Ways of Making Fashionable Sleeves. combinatlons. One of the latest phases of the contest Is represented by a broad rib bon, w T hale-boned to stand up, and fasten ing at the back of the neck with a wide Jeweled clasp. Another evidence of the tax placed upon human ingenuity is a stitched stock of white silk, at the hase of which Is drawn a scarf of fine white net. spotted in small black lace dots and edged with black lace. This Is bowed and fastened with a jeweled pin in front. Details of the Toilet. The beige brown silk muslin or chiffon veil has been swamped ut erly by the wave of bright, grassy green veils that have rushed into popularity. Some wo men claim that these verdant tissues soft en a glaring summer landscape to the eyes far more effectively than the brown chiffon, and certainly the green makes a brave show about the brim of the summer hat, but truth compels the confession that under her green veil even a healthy wo man locks ghostly pale with sickly sha dows cast upon her countenance that the good old brown face covering never gave. A mention must be made here and now of the whimsicalities In handkerchiefs that make ones money feel hot In ones pocket. These oddities are meant only for use a few times with organdie gowns, and such a few of them have the stami na for a visit to the washtub. There are lfttle brown batiste muehoirs edged with white lace, or a narrow line of embroid ered forget-me-nots, or wee pink, blos soms. There are deeply scalloped and lace edged bits of sheer white lawn, with bou quets of spring blossoms, stamped In their corners, and for garden parties we see handkerchiefs, to tuck in b-lts or luffs, made of pastel blue and pink and yellow silk muslin edged with lace and stamped with wavy black or white pin-stripes through their entire length and breadth. Again we see swee, mourning trifles of the most cobweb like black batiste, solid black and edged wtih white foot ing, while for more practical purposes the choice mucholr Is white linen, fine ly hemMltched In pink or blue, and In one corner a piece of colored lawn, the slse of a twenty-five cent piece, Is set. On this the initials are embroidered. Many women have their handkerchiefs marked with etched work. For this the handkerchief is as has been Just de scribed, only that the initials on the disk of colored lawn are worked in the finest black thread, so that it looks almost as if It had been done by a very superior and artistic sort of India Ink. Mary Dean. StCCISSFI L At GI ST RECIPES. A Dellrlon* Stimulating Ilncon Ome let and a Fruit Sponge. Bacon Omelet.—Chlsp, wafer thin, bacon will tempt the appetite, these hot morn ings, but cooks complain that It is im possible to have this crispness In warm weather. If the bacon can be made firm In the lee box or eleetvhere and care taken that the pan is ’’•lzzllrg” hot before the slices are put in, crispness is Insured. Warm, flabby bacon, will never cook properly, therefore the slicing must be done In a cold place. Try bacon treated in this way In omelet, which, if made as follows will be tender and golden: Remove rind and hard bile from a small bit of bacon and cut Into six slices, liter- ally e* thdn as a wafer. Cook quickly, when crisp, remove to a hoi dish. Pour the fat fnom the pan and mind no salt remains. Now put a tablespoonful of the clear fat in the hot pan. break four eggs, the white of one rejected, into a bowl and give them a few stroke© with a fork, stir in half cup of water, (not milk.) and pepper to<aste, the bacon will give suffi cient salt. Turn into the i>an and begin at once to pick the mixture, os it thick ens, with a fork. Remove from the fire while still thin, but do not turn out until it i© set. While picking do not touch the bottofi of the pan. but leave a thin coating to brown. A knife thrust to the center onfe or twice will prevent scorch ing. Put the bits of bacon here and there on the ofnelet after it is folded on the dish and garnish with parsley. This ome let should be so soft and delicate that rolling should be impossible, hut one dex terous fold i© easily accomplished. Bettor no fold at all. remember, than any ap proach to over cooking. A pancake may be folded! an omelet must actually be tossed from hot pan to hot dish and must be in soft yellow flakes. Water makes a more tender and delicate omelet than milk. Fruit Sponge—To use up odds and ends of fruit, ripe and good, but not fresh look ing enougn to serve whole, a sponge is the very thing. Wash the fruit, add half a cup of water, stew for a few moments, then squeeze through cheese cloth until a pint measure is filled. Soak half a box of gelatin in a cup of cold water for five minutes, add half a cup of sugar, now stir into this the fruit juice, boiling hot, pour in t o a shallow tin dish and when cooled a little place this in another of cracked ice and salt. When this begins to thicken, stir occasionally and add the stiffened white of four eggs. All will now be light and "spongy” and must be turned into a mould and be put on the ice to harden. S rve with a custard made from the yolks of the eggs. Fruit Juices brought to boi ing point, two small table spoonful of corn starch mixed smooth with a little cold juice, half a cup of sugar added and the whole cook ed for five minutes is delicious when al lowed to become cold and firm. Care must be taken to thicken only Just A White Cloth Gown Showing the New Mffect In Decoration . enough lo hold together. Serve with whip ped or plain cream and never omit a pinch of salt in both pifdding and sauce. Mini Cordial.—Crush a bunch of mint by rubbing each leaf with a wooden masher, pull In bits, then soak for half an hour In the strained Juice of two lemons and add the carefully grated yellow rind of one. Put a pint each of water and granulated sugar to heat until the sugar spins a fine thread, remove from the fire and stir Into It the Juice of a large orange and the lem on and mint. Strain, put on Ice until very cold and serve In wine glasses. Corn Pudding.—To a pint of corn pulp add a pint of milk, stir In the well beaten yolks of four eggs, 11 tensponful of salt, pepper to taste. Mix thoroughly, lastly add the stiffened whites and bake in a moderate ovtu in a greased dish for one hour. A delicious accompaniment to roast meat. Corn Oysters.—To a pint of com, prepar ed as above, add the well beaten- yolks of two eggs, two large tablespoonfuls of flour, half a teaspoonful of sale, a hint of cay enne and black pepper. Mix well and when the fat for frying is ready, add the stiffen ed whites. Drop, in oyster shape, from a spoon, into the hot fat, brown on both sides and serve hot in the vegetable course. Very good. JOHN HAD GERMAN MEASLES. Mr*. J. Matrimonial IHlhs Ventilate* Her View* Ipon tlie Proper Care of a Sick and Consequently Cross Hnl>n nil. “Well, if she treats him like that, I won’t answer for the consequence,” re plied Mrs. J. Matrimonial Bliss, laying down her lace work and shaking her head solemnly ot the Atlantic ocean, roll ing its blue summer waves before the veranda on which she and Miss Emily Lonely sat gossiping. “For my pert, I think she is a very tender, devoted wife, and he’s a surly brute,” retorted Miss Emily. “The par titions in these summer hotels are so thin I couldn’t help hearing when ho said something about a devilish bore, and she replied In the gentle way, ‘Dear, you aren’t .well,’ and then his language be came perfectly awful. I simply put my fingers in my eers. I can’t help thinking flow in the past few days all her ideals must have become shattered by his be havior. and they have only been married two months. Men are such treacherous creatures. Sometimes one does appreci ate one’s dignified independence,” and Miss Emily gave her water color version ol his majesty the Atlantic, a moon that looked like a white celluloid poker chip gone astray. Mrs. Bliss laughed cheerily. “He isn't a brute. Miss Emily. He’s just a little .run down, poor young man, and his con fiding. adoring, pretty little wife evident ly hasn’t got far enough along in her knowledge of the sex to realize that there is a mighty big difference in the best methods of taking care of a sick woman and a sick man. Now, wc all know that a woman wants to be coddled and cud dled, petted and fussed over when she is ill. She grows quite fond of her med icines. loves to tuck up among pillows and discuss her symptoms, and speak in a still, small voice and make large, pathetic eyes of a suffering gazelle at her relations and the doctor. Must be Handled With Glove*. “If there is one insult that a man more acutely resents than another.” Mrs. Bliss continued, “it is Illness, and he deeply objects to being reminded of it. He knows that he is then unmanned and more or less an object of amused pity to his own sex. so a sick husband must he handled with gloves. It is wifely tact that tides him over, and that is what our l’ltle friend should learn. She really is painfully obtuse. Last night she tried to put her white worsted shawl about his big. broad shoulders, mode him change his seat, because she suspected he was in a draught, and reminded him of his pills right before all the other men. Do you wonder he used winged words, that Is to say, direct colloquial language; though being newly married he spoke in a tone only she could hear and complied with ell her requests, except the use of the shawl. In consequence she was hurt and huffy, and her eyes grew pink, and then he got madder and went out, by way of revenge, and stamped up and down the wet beach, reveling, no doubt, in the knowledge that she was wringing her hands on the piazza and longing to rush out, and on her knees offer him his overshoes, but her pride and fear of his manly wrath held her at bay.” “And you think that’s kind and ten der and noble and”—began Miss Emily Lonely in wrathful ameie. “No. (Miss Emily.” chuckled Mrs. Blise; “but it's masculine and natural, and I’ve been oil through it with my John. Did I ever tell you about the time that John Matrimonial Bliss, esq., banker, broker, aftes-dinner speaker and retired warrior, come down with the German: measles?’’ Miss Emily shook her head. “He doesn’t dream to this day that he ever was the victim of so pesky a little ailment, but sometimes, w r hen he chooses to reminiss about his wonderful escape and daring adventures, he nods across the table at me and refers to the summer of his return from Cuba, when he had a very close call, and I say with a sort of break in my voice, ‘Ob, Jack, don't talk of it,’ and he leaves the impression with his appreciative male listeners that he has faced worse things than San Juan Hill. AVlten tlie Crisis Come, “That summer I knew Jack was droopy when he began running down the cook, but I didn't suggest there was any loss of appetite. From being an entirely so ciable creature he seemed to find pleas ure in sitting alone and glowering a good deal, and when I assumed a more cheer ful air than usual he tried to explain himself by saying. In the weird, vernacular of down town, that the street had cold feet. “The last familiar phase that always leads to some sort of an attack with mv husband is when he. as mild a man as ever paid bills, or dismissed tipsy cooks, began to. excuse me. Miss Emily, but to damn things. Then I knew John was ill. and the crisis came when he got into a perfectly towering rage with the end of a palm leaf that tickled his nose while he sat reading his Sunday paper. I apol ogized for and removed the palm, and when the racking headache developed I lightly suggested the hot weather, a touch of possible malaria and invited the doctor in to tea. "Well, the long and short of it was John spent four days In bed, and I bundled off the children and covered my self with glory trying to keep my lord in spirits, and at the same time in his room. We never once let on it was measles, that would have hurt his dignity, so the doc tor and I talked on a basis of incipient typhoid, brought on by Cuba and over work, and alarmed him into obedience, while I kept up his courage by wonder ing at his superb constitution. Poor Jack, he was scared into fits at the sight of his temperature, for man-like, once persuad ed ho Is ill, he glooms over the future, and I could easily have given him o serious seiback by watching him with pained, anxious eyes, by tiptoeing around the room, tickiing his poor pulse, plead ing with him to eat, hushing all normol, familiar sounds, and begging him every ten minutes to teil me how he felt. How to Msiinge n Sick Man. "Treatment of that sort drives a man either In a rage, out of his bed, or puts Mother’s Friend I docs away with the suffering of child- ■ birth. It is a penetrating liniment tobo zJ used externally. It causes the muscles ■ to expand anti gives them elasticity ■ ami strength for the coming ordeal. H Mothers who have used it consider it H as necessary as the food they eat. It B is utterly impossible for it todo harm, M as in the case of medicines taken in •SI? Mathvr'a Friend at THE BHADIIUD MGCLATOHCO. him into alternate nervous chill© and fevers of sheer fright. The proper nurs ing for one’s husband is to make his sick room look cheerful and agreeable, walk around as if there was nothing to be afraid of, and speak in a pleasant, buoy ant tone of voice. Gloat over his splendid resistive powers when he gets down in the mouth for no man likes his constitu tion to be impugned any more than his honesty or his fcourage, and by proving to him that, though it suffers terrible strains, it comes out always ahead, you can flat ter and stimulate him to his great ben efit. When the time comes for the nasty dose allow him to dedicate it with all the naughty words in his vocabulary. It helps him, he thinks, and then, when it goes down with a whoop and a gurgle and more language and facial contortions, assure him you don’t see how he does It, that being a woman you would faint over the ordeal, nnd then he lies back, feeling him self strong, even in his weakness. “As to feeding a sick husband. I don’t think there is a bigger mistake than to peater him with requests as to what he would like, to wail at his lO6S of appe tite and to get up untempting invalid dishes. Men are sociable creatures, and if John Is taking any solid food at all I dine and lunch and tea, and breakfast with him. If I eat with him he doesn’s feel as if he were being dieted, and. to tell you the truth, barring a few really in jurious things that the doctor may put on the menu expurgatorious, I always feed my sick man on the beet and most various the market can afford. We’ve had some really Jolly meals on the counter pane. “The last and most precious sacrifice a wife can make to her ill or convalesc ing lord Is to yield her point in argument. Now, I don’t mean high and noble for titude when he grows absurdly angry over some foolish trifle, or a pained Christian silence when he contradicts or stiffens himself to refuse his medicine. That attitude irritates, but I mean when he takes some strange but harmless no tion In his head, contrive if possible, to let him have his way, and when anything must be talked over yield to him the rich and rare delight of accepting his view. Yield slowly, for he will want to thor oughly enjoy the sweets of victory, but yield nevertheless, and in after days you can resume your old, original, obstinate position, and he won’t contest it with you.” "It’s a pity,” remarked Miss Emily Lonely, as the lunch gong roared through the hall, “that you couldn’t give some of that really sensible advice of yours to our little friend out there, moping so tearfully under the lawn tent.” “Oh. she will find it out by and by," assured Mrs. J. M. Bliss, rising with hungry alacrity. “There is no school for sharpening woman’s wits like Joining the big class in matrimony.” EMILY HOLT. THE YOUNG WOMAN WHO WRITES. HER FIRST STORY. In the first place the Individual men tioned above generally belongs to a good family, has a fair education, and, last, but not least, has been a prolific letter writer all her life. One day a well-meaning friend remarks, Oh, Alice, you do write such lovely, in teresting letters. I should think you would write a story. Alice laughs and blushes at the very Idea, but the mischief is done. A little later the seed takes root, and 6he Is scribbling oftener than usual. If any member of the family approaches her desk she hastily covers the precious papers with a letter started weeks ago to Belle or Sue, as the ease may be. While the writing fits lasts she simply loathes Interruption and finds it difficult to bring her mind down to mundane things long enough to give advice in re gard to a circular ruffle on Ellen's dress or a crush collar on mother's new silk waist. At last they leave the room and she gives a big sigh of relief as she returns to her story, but, to her dismay, she finds that every idea has flown from her head and she cannot write. When she commenced her MSS. the words fairly flew from her pen, she decid ed that she really had some talent and did not, think that authors had such a very hard time after all. But, now! she reads over what she has already written; sounds very nice so far, but beyond! her mind is an absolute blank. She thinks she is nervous and tired and will wait till the inspiration comes again. The next morning she arise*, full of activity, and “feels Just like writing,” so she assures herself. She refuses the de lights of a shopping tour, she must abso lutely write some letters. Seats herself and takes out the precious sheets, and reads them over. As she does so the story sounds more and more famil iar; what Is the matter with It! She has always been a great reader of all matter, from scientific information to love stories. The truth gradually dawns on her that she has unconsciously absorbed the gen eral style of the "Duchess” and has put on paper something that might be considered a “hash” of several of her stories, com bined with a weak imitation of “Conan Doyle.” The sory is at once consigned to the waste basket, for if there is anything she takes pride in It is her originality. She decides that love stories are not her forte and she will try a mild adventure. This time she succeeds beyondherexpec tatlons, the ideas flow smoothly, and after many trials, ends the story in a satisfac tory manner. She copies it very clearly to induce the unknown editor to give it more than a casual glance. She feels sure that if he once begins to read it his Interest will be awakened and the charm of the adventure will appeal to htm. Takes the name of some long depar'ed ancestor for a nom de plume, as she thinks, in her beautiful Ignorance, that the editor will be much Impressed with that fact, and imagine that she is an “old hand” a', the tuslress. Reads it once more, surely there ere some fine points In it; It ought to be worth $lO, if It is worth anything at all. So she writes, "Price $10,” and ties the sheets with blue ribbon, so that they will turn over easily. She has visions of an editor, rushing to death with work, easily Irritated (by trifles, and Just such a little thing as MSS. being easy to read, might decide her fate, she thinks. Now the. question arises, shall she read her story to the family or Just to her brother, or shall she wait till It comes out In print, and surprise them all. Pleasant little shivers of delight thrill her as she thinks of this possibility, and how they will praise her and marvel at her long concealed talent. The longing for appreciation concealed In every woman's heart proves too much for her and when her young brother stalks into the room alone she remarks In a nonchalant tone: "Say, Ted! want to read my story. I wrote one for fun this afternoon. Just to see if I coukl." Ted begins to grin, hut warned by her heightened color that this Is dead earnest, says: "Sure! What’s Its name?" and seats himself to hear It, with a polite air of resignation. As she unfolds the precious thing she announce* the title, and swallows hard before beginning. There seems to be something the matter with her voice, and surely she has heart trouble. It never beat In this irregular fashion before, She feels ns if she could weep, but gathers herself together and begins. At the end of every sentence she casts an anxious eye at Tid. Oh! Joy! at the end of the second sheet, he gets up end stands before the fireplace. That’s a good sign, and when he rumple* up hie heir she Is delighted. As she finishes, he says: "Good enough, Alice! You're a brick. 1 didn’t know you had It in you." Do you really and truly think It’s worth prlntisg, Ted? 1 should say It was, first rate. “My sis- ter, the well known authoress! Won't fellows 'rubber?' I tell you, sis. i m there is one genius in the family Ba<l Ted does a cakewalk across th? ro on . an< * Don’t talk such n nsense, Ted. Ther a long distance teiween writing on,-. and being famous. But. privately ' "' r doesn't think the distance will be so v'" 9 great after all. She swears him to secrecy, but st, Just dying to see what her s sterl? sav. ' She opens the subject warily on* M day in this way: "Oh. dear! What o'* pid day this is! I believe 1 11 wrl e a —sentence addiessed to no one in ,_ T ular. “You write a story!" sniff- R ' c ' "I think I see the story you could Wr if' Why. it takes years and years m anything decent, ui less you are bo>n J! a special gift that way." '* Bess' temper Is ruffl-d by the rain Sk. wanted to wear her new hat to th nee, so Alice does not feel this de-ply. But when her mother . thoughtfully: "They say there are onlvr (afferent plots for stories in the V r u and every one is obliged to use some™, of them, only dressed in a different st vi. and I think amiteur stories are nth' tedious, anyway.” Then Alice's vanishes, and she decides it is not an splcious moment for confidences and r tires to her room with: "Weil, I am -J* to try it some day.” 8 ln Before sending the-beloved MSS reads It once more. The rain beats aeai the window and her spirits sink lower n-t lower. How could she ever have seen thing funny in that incident on the this page! When she wrote it she Imagined th. editor sitting in his chair and laughing ill the tears ran down his cheeks. Now she thought she would just as laugh at a funeral. mct Presenly she gets up courage enough „ seal the envelope, and mournfully affix* five 2-cent stamps. It is better to stamps, she things, than to have it return ed from the dead letter office. By iml time she is perfecly sure It will come back, and life possesses the hue of Indigo Her days for the next two weeks alter nate between hope and despair Everv time the postman appears she manages to be within hearing distance. At last she gives up all hope of ever hearing from the magazine to which sc. lias intrusted her tledget, and that very night her brother springs up the stai-s exclaiming: "Alice, here’s a letter froni the magazine. Hooray!” She hastily tears it open and reads' "Madam, we are in receipt of MSS., mark ed $lO. We can use it at $1.50. Plea-e let us hear from you by return mail Respt., Blank & Blank." She sees nothing but the blissful word* "We can use it!” That Is enough to ill her heart with joy. She masks her de light and imemdiately assumes little airs of importance, and says to Ted: ‘Of course, I did not expect to get my own price at first, but I’ve always read that they, meaning editors in general, never give more than half what anything is worth.” She posts her glad acceptance, then won ders whether she will get the check before or after the story is published. When the next copy of the magazine is due she haunts the newstand. It happens to be three days late. When it does come she scans the contents hastily. No sign of her story. She wonders what can ba the matter. Ted says: "Oh, probably they have got a dozen ahead of yours,” and so she has to be content for another long month. At last it appears. It looks very much nicer In print; but so short, and she had written thousands of words. She buys half a dozen copies to send to her friends, and returns home to throw the announcement of her success like a bomb-shell Into the bosom of her fomtly. She receives congratulations and praise, tempered with criticism from Bess, "so that she won't be too puffed up," Best says. Ted exults because he knew all about it beforehand. When do I get the silk uiw hrelia you promised me? he asks, and Be S i demands anew belt buckle. Alice had omitted to mention the sura she was to receive for her story, but Tea had privately distributed the information that she had got a good price for it. By thi stime they are all so impressed with her cleverness that they think any amount probable, and Alice does not un deceive them. She writes to her dearest friend next day as follows: "Dear Sue—l send you by this mail a story that I have written. Of course, it does not amount to much; and pray, do not think I nave an enlarged cranium in consequence, but I knew you would be greatly Interested, of course, etc.” "P S.—The magazine paid me quits well.” She sends something of the same sort to four or five other friends, and then waits for her first check to arrive. RRR Radway’e Ready Relief, used Inwardly, will in a few minues tcure Cramp*. Spasms, Sour Stomach, Heartburn, Nau sea, Seasickness. Nervousness. Sleeyles.*- ens 9, Sick Headache, Summer Complaint, Cholera Morbu®, Diarrhoea, Dysentery, Colic, Flatulency, and all internal pains. Take 25 Drops of Radway's Ready Relief in half a tum bler of water on rising in the morning to strengthen and sweeten the stomach and prevent all of those feelings of lassi tude and "tiredness” so common at this season. Radway’s Ready Relief Instantly re lieves and soon cures Bruises, Burns. Bites of Insects, Swelling of the Joints, Lumbago, Inflammations, Congestions, Rheumatism, Neuralgia, Headache, Toothache. 50 Cent* n Bottle. Sold by Drug*!*'". RADWAY A CO., 55 Elm St„ S. Y JUST RECEIVED A CAR LOAD OF GARDEN TILE, [Mi Mil'S Sill 113 flronjtton Street, Wet. J. D. WEED * CO IAVAIMAU, aA. Leather Belting, Steam Packing 4 Hose. Agent* for NEW YORK RUBBER BELTING AND PACKING COMPANY IF YOU WANT GOOD MATERIAL and work, order your lithographed ‘ ni printed etatlonery and blank book* l tom Morning News, Savannah, Qa.