Newspaper Page Text
winter e ST s r\jr
I NICE COAT AND SKIRT IN PALE GREEN FACE CLOTH
DEACONESS FUND ALL HIGKT
.Clubwoman's Committee Finds Little Op
position to Its Plans.
Ever since the clubwomen of New-York proposed
t<> provide a deaconess to work in St. Mark's
parish, cesolatetl by the Slocum tragedy, there
have been some who disapproved of the plan, but
V~.f r.mrber of sympathizers were so much larger
srd their enthusiasm so great that not much
tttcnticn was paid to the opposition. This minor
'ixy. hr>T.-ever r has lately been magnified by rumor
Into a formidable body, and the friends cf the
f::u*e have been alarmed by a report that the
cluts were tuminp a deaf ear to the third ap
!>• .il of the committee charged with the task of
niHinir the fund.
This alarm turn? out on investigation to be
quite unnecessary. The committee knows nothing
i. bout a third appeal cr protested subscriptions, and
*!ready has so much money in hand that «>ven If
the clubwomen had decide to go back on their
pledsea it would not be in very serious difficulties.
VThen Mrs. Augustine Wilson, treasurer cf the
dt-aco::ess fund, was seen yesterday, she had not
beard of the rumor to the effect that some of the
women who Lad proiiiiscd money had backed out.
"That story is made out of whole cloth," she ex
ciiimed, indignantly. "I never heard before of
fuch a trumped up affair! Of the men who
promised to contribute at the me^tir.sr, all but ono
nave paid thtir money already, and I'm ab
,eoli:?»]y certain that she has never thought of re
furfr.g her contribution. She is out of town for the
summer, that is aS Twenty-eight dollars was
bonded to me tn the day of the meeting and $67
was pledged then.
"Altogether the committee- has raised nearly J3OO.
which has been paid to me. This money all came
In response to the apjx'a.l which we are sending
out to the clubworr.en Individually. We have cent
our apptal to the president of every woman's club
.'" trie city, and almost every president has ser.t
tack word that Ehe will be glad to bring- the mat
ter before .her club at Its :ir.=t meeting."
Mrs. Ralph, who was one cf the first to suggest
helping the S!ocur. sufferer?, took the same view
of the rumored criticisms a? d.d Mrs. Wilson.
"The people who say that there was no need for
KB to engage a deaconess." she said, "evidently
know nothing of the existing conditions. If they
kad investigated they would have found that the
Eloc'jbi fund, as it now stands, does not comprise
esy great amount of naoawy. After the funeral
expenses cf the victims were paid and a sum was
laid aside to help the families next winter, the
fund took a biff fall. Moreover, a careful consid
eration of the subj-ct would have shown the
ones tha.t a deaconess could not. ac
cording- to the letter of the law. be paid out of the
Sued. When the dcasoneas left the Mother House
In Philadelphia to come to up, we paid down (130
,*o the house iit one time for her services. Siie
,ias go-, right into the families and is doing her
sreate?;t work in bringing to Uglit needy isses to
be nt'jK*: by the geiural fund.
"And what n au.all amount is S3/ from the
wotaen's cluLs of New -York? It means that no
CTiH win be taxed to speak of, tor if each club
»Tsber gives <,n!y a few cents the mcii'-y will Le
raisea in full."
# Mrs. Belle di Kivera was the only representative
«« the opposition who could b» found i:i town and
ser opinion was that the efforts of the ciujwomen
"i •R-aji In perfect mpathy with the sentiment
that, prompted the plan." she said. "It is the
e»eete*t and lovllest sentiment in the world, but
its direction doesn't seem lo me exactly right. If
toe charch needs a deaconess I don't t>ee why she
KjOttfdnt be paid out of fund raised by the city.
There is no reason why wo should have a lot of
JJttle funds. I don't know to what extent my feel
ing* in the matter are shared by others. I have
to several clubwomen who think as i do
*--.<; to others who are very enthusiastic la support
Of the plan. Some even want to do more than ha.<
•etn pledped. and not only l pay the deaconess for
One year, hoi keep her at St. Mark's. I think that
Is a lovely idea. It would bt- a beautiful memorial
•f the dead, and more than the citizens' committee
could, be expected to do. but I doubt If it can be
<Jor». New-York clubwomen have many claims
ipon their tim» and pockets, and the impression
Of even iuch a terrible disaster as that of the
surnlnir of the Siooum Is shortlived. When the
clubwomen get back to th* city again I doubt if
they will b<- quite so much Interested in the niat-
If as they -wore Wfeen they wont away."
This historic GL9 ENGLISH TAVERN
KECFEN FO'l THE LONDON SEASON.
Seal Ci^ English ffarc.
*o\e cu\o^ \V.c iofcsA. *sVvt open r.T.v.-
*57ax>&\.\.vwa \ovaV xa^o-as.
Pnm.e SVrWvris o$ ib^cV S^idUs o^
iwettklt»*m l&'itto'v Scotch Sa^mcA.
3\us StWton. 6V4. "Ports aT.fi "E-aT
pH -:&, a.ud a'A Vr -..z famous
— <Th» Gentlewoman
GOWNS BY CABLEGRAMS.
Dressmakers Fail to Get Modes from Paris
In Any Other Way.
Th* National Dressmakers' Association ha* hit
upon a new method of getting Its Paris modes.
No Paris models are on exhibition at the conven
tion which opened yesterday at No. 172 Fifth-aye..
but the ill l MUMS l 1 11 think that their models em
body even later ideas than would have been found
In the Paris confections They were designed ac
cording to cablegrams from Paris, which came
much more quickly than the mo - could travel,
and therefore It Is argued they must be later in
conception than the latter could be.
The reason for this unwonted proceeding Is that
the Paris dressmakers have been trying to lessen
American competition by declining to sell models
at the early date required by the American trade.
September 15 was the date they set for the arrival
of the gowns in this country, and the American
buyers promptly replied that If they could not have
them before that they did not want them at all.
The result Is that the models will probably be here
before lons, but meantime the National Association
thinks that cablegrams will answer the purpose
The cablegram models were not all in place at
the opening of the convention yesterday, but among
those shown several things were noticeable. One
was the full skirt, so full that It was evident it
could not get through life without some firm sup
port to l<?an on. Whether this is to be called
crinoline or by some other name, la immaterial. The
i,.,. v _ which were much puffed at the top, also
had a suspicious estion of stiffening, but It is
suM that skillful king is all that will be neces
sary here. . , ,
The cut of the skirts and the trimming, whi^h
consisted in i»oni<? cases of • Inked and fringed frills
and ruchinsrs interspersed with rosettes and in
sertions made them look very much as If they had
cemt- out of wnt ancient chest In the garret, or
had stepped out of an old picture.
One model had a draned oversklrt over a white
lac« petticoat, it was made in Marie Antoinette
stylo with a quaint t.ointed bodice and the over
jltirt'was looped up charmingly over each hip.
Princess gowns were numerous, and th* coats
were all cat with their skirts of all lengths, from
a little frill about the hips to the long skirt reerh
ing almost to the feet. A few coats had only little
tails at the back, and one had the long basques
entirely irate from th* coat In front, where It
assumed a bolero shape, while at the back the two
parts of the garment were connected.
Ribbon was much used, not only as a decoration,
but as a foundation material. One gown was al
most entirely composed, as to the skirt, of wide pale
blue satin ribbon, one row pleated and the other
plain the ends of the plain bands tieing in front
over a white lace petticoat.
The convention Will continue in session until
10, and there Will be talks .very ;:fter
nooa. beginning Wednesday, by Mme. Baker, the
director, and Mrs. I '".da ROSS Aa-ie.
M: and Mrs X lo* Stewart announce the
rt. to Walter Girdwood IfnUtner. son of the
of Leamington, England.
a irriage will take place at the book ol Mi
it Cro* K«it-on. Fort
wist:. ■ on Jfonday. September
the ;:••• Charles W. Mrkb>
James's Church. offlciaUng. Onl> the relatives ol
THE WOMAN HUNTER.
Women have always been successful at hunting.
whether for bargains or for deer, in the Adlron
dacks and the hunting season, which opens on
September 1. will find many women In the hunting
parties which have gone Into rough camp. There
they may have to undergo many hardships, for
"rough camp" may mean anything between a rude
log cabin and an open shed made by the guide
who drives two long crotched sticks upright Into the
ground about twelve feet apart, with a third
piece laid across: the top and balsam boughs
placed against the latter so as to form a slant roof
that will shed rain Hut all this the woman hunter
it* prepared to endure without complaint.
One New-York woman, who la an excellent shot
always goes to the Adirondack.-? with her husband
ard a guide when the hunting season opens, and
never fahs to bring home a fine buck. the guide
takes bej-JOOt and finds a comfortable place on a
good runway, where .ho often remains for a
w'lf'le <!iv all alone in the wilderness, wait
iiic for the tmTßt to come to her quarry, Bhe
iSfottS frUrbtened « t.ic B tllln«w. but the ■llsht
"t JouVl ar.iu.--s her hunting instinct.* and Bte
VrmedUt.lv becomes ulert. Frequently she is the
™ c i ! Auch eurlosUv on th« pan 01 cJ»ipmun«
<nd other small animals, but even th - tempting
u,Dearance ot a fox does not so nmca as cauaw
$ -r t* "aW tW muzz!- of her (run, for the report
(n( n ; r .i,; Smi would echo and re-echo mr long d.s
taßces through th« forest and would fnghu-r. away
tl T Ve ar . >i .'Tt.nr,l. llt '.is-i ;t !lv worn for hunting consists
of^hort brown skirl high lacod i^.ts. £££«*
•■■hi-iwiist and a sott felt hat. 1 h»sc jjarmonis
co rbh'.. ightroES ar.d warmth pnJ do not retard
SrSmM through the d'ns*- underbrush. A H«ht
rlfl" is usually carried, as it is difficult
?,,r a woman to hold a heavy gun steady enough
"r&'numbe? o* 1 "Women hunters I. the Adlron
'•■\ J camps haa Increased rapidly in the
BnS years, and their success has been largely
c sss^t. iu fn mBK
iTe^toappcar, X* e aid a in the Adirondack..
XEYV-YORK DAILY TRIBUNE. TUESDAY. AUGUST 30. lftO4. *
ITS SUMMER SESSION.
Y. "W. C. A. Classes Have Commencement
— Recreation and Instruction.
With a concert bs th* singing class, and drills
and dances by the physical culture class, and an
exhibition oj baskets, trimmed hats, shirtwaists
and embroidery — trophies of the various classes
—the summer school of the Young Women's
Christian Association at No. 7 East Fifteenth-st.
came last night to a successful close. Never,
they said, in the history of the institution had
the summer school known so successful a season,
or given Instruction and pleasure to so many.
Miss Kathnrlne Martin, the supervisor, made
a tittle speech, in which she reviewed the sum
mer's work. Two hundred girls have worked In
the shirtwaist class, under Mrs. Martha Rein
harrlt. This has been the largest class, and very
enthusiastic have . the girls become as they cut
and fitted and tucked and bottonboled. Some of
fliem diii not know how to sew when they joined,
so • ey i(.i,i to build from the very subeeflar up.
But they built, all the same.
Indian clubs. r.-,.nils. dumbbells, dancing steps and
drills of various kinds have held the attention of
about on» hundred and fifty girls in the gymnastic
classes, with Miss Katharine Burger as teacher,
while forty-five young women have enjoyed sing-
Ing glees, two par songs and choruses under the
tutelhgrc of M!es Emma Brazier Those who take
the singing must pledge themselves to sing at the
Sunday afternoon service? through the year Last
night the class bore fruit In sOm< pleasant part
Kinging, and Miss Rose Setig of the class sang
Some "sweet" hats testified to the ardor of the
millinery class (Miss Frances Simmons, instructor),
the exhibition In tri;« line being pronounced the
.-• • ever held
But perhaps nothing has been more popular than
the class, in parlor and kindorgartner gamps and
basketry, In which sixteen-year-olds and gray
haired womer in their fifties have joined with the
gre.-ilrst zcrt. The object was to show the mem
bers how to ntertnln their little brothers and
-isters. Miss Marie Yost was the teacher. Some
lavo|y rnffla basketry wn« shown yesterday thai
hnd besn done by her pupil.-, besides raffia bats
which the makers have been wearing with much.
"How to combine Instruction and recreation for
the women and girls who must remain in town
all »umm«r is a problem In every large city." said
Mls^ Martin to, a Tribune reporter, "but I think
Miss Doheny has solved it for New York. Girls
wh.> applied for entrance to the summer school
had difficulty In understanding that everything was
free Including the entafntninmei ts by nineteen
professionals, and the mid«m:-mer garden party.
given by th.- girls themselves, with a play and ;i
distribution of Bowers to every one In the audience
of »'in'it hundred."
Letter? nf reels tion from the girls nre fre
quent. One i;ir! wrote. "I wish to tell you how
much I have enjoyed 'ii' summer school This is
my third year of attendance at the singing and
physical culture classes. I do not mind staying in
the city when I have the clauses to go to. 1
Miss Doheny, chaplain of the Young Women's
Christfa . Association and head of the summer
school, wired her greetings and congratulations
from Stamford. N. V
a 4?^ '-'ZiirHt iff w^<^ n
ON SUMMER VACATIONS.
"Only four days more!" said the young man.
with a sigh.
"Only four days more," echoed the girl, carefully
preserving a tone of nonchalant indifference, as
they mounted the steps of the hotel pinzza.
"Only four days more— and I'm glad of It!" ex
claimed the girl's mother, with undisguised satis
faction, as the pair Joined her.
"Why, mother!" The young girl's Indifference
disappeared. In surprise at h^r mother's no. as
she dropped intoia chair by the latu-r's sl<e.
"Why, Mrs. Burton!" said another woman in the
group on the piazza. "Will you be so glad to leave
us? I'm afraid you haven't properly appreciated
"I'm surprised, Mrs. Burton." said the young
man, seating himself on the rail. "See what We
have to leave " And be waved his hand toward
the fair vista of hills, » river and sky before them.
"All this In exchange for city streets!" •
"Yes, and the cares of bousekeeptog." said the
cstron. "And yet J'm glad It's nearly over and
that we re all going back to the old routine I'm
sorry for you young men. with only two we*>\s'
respite from oftVe work, but"
'That's all right," interrupted the young man.
cheerfully. "I'll be glad, too, to get back to work."
There was another chorus cf lurpria d exclama
tions, and the girl gave him a quick glance from
under her eyelashes.
"I'm dying to go back, too! ' she exclalmM,
with a touch of malice.
"For you se~," h.- continued, smiling, "it doesn't
Involve saying goodby to friends. 1 shall see you
all again m town. I hope. But somehow, when
going back to work Is Inevitable, and when one la
really Interested In one's work, as nearly all of U3
are at heart If we've put s.!iy conscience into It
somehow— two weeks are enough, one wants to
get into the groove again "
"Thct'e what I say." put in Mrs. Burton. "1
spend half th*: year dreading summer It's such an
unsettled time. All very well for the people who
have cottag-s at Newport, and that sort of thing;
but w»- Who go to ordinary summer resorts have
a new problem every year. Last year's place is
never quite what you want again. You always
want to try a new experiment, and the question,
'Where shall we go?' haunts you right along after
Ciiriiunias time. Just about May It begins to worry
you. and you spend June In a state of Indecision
and a constant flurry of correspondence with all
sorts of managers and proprietors. You don't know
exactly what ssrt of an outfit you'll need until the
question Is decided; then the last few weeks are
spent In a rush of preparation, a:, this, mind you
is added to the usual spring labors, house clean-
Ing, carpet cleaning, packing things in camphor—
oh. II! spare yo"u the net. Then you have an orgy
of packing, a long, uncomfortable Journey, < my to
settle down in some place v. here you have all" the
discomforts of horn? and none of its advantages
Then, after you recover from the effects of the
change, you begin to gain flesh, which you dread
above all things" -her*-, the youthful, pink-cheeked
bri*fht-eyed matron glanced at her own comfort
able; proportions, and began to laugh at 'he pict
urea conured up by her Jeremiad.
"Mother you're a fraud. " cried the young irlrl
Joining in the laugh. "You know you like this
place, and you've had a lovely time and so
"Wei!, maybe I h:iv" But all the «nme I hate
this summer outing business, with all its unsettling
detail - "
"And its separations!" broke out another woman
"Every member of our family baa to go avav at
a different time, and all In different direction? "
"You ought to se- our bookkeeper after his vaca
tion." said the young man, with an am'ieed smile
•Me .-onus back thin a* a rail, and hagjenrd as if
he d had a fever Takes him two weeks to re
cruit, He's one of those fellows, you know who
thin** you have to go U every day an ul'l (1 v
long, or else It Isn't a proper vacation. ramps
* Hozz+£etvi%;e*s 9 Ejcchange.
The present day American undoubtedly gives
less time and thought to "polite manners" than
did his ancestors: the strenuous atmosphere, per
vading even the social world nowadays, excuses
and encourages the lack.
Perhaps woman's present position of indepen
dence and equality with man is responsible for a
certain difference In his attitude. . The old fash
ioned woman's happy dependence upon her hus
band Inspired and developed In him love of at
tention to the details of her pleasure and- comfort.
and he found her appreciation ample reward.
No other country in the world offers to woman
the same freedom. in all ways as America, and
children reared in such an atmosphere must, ne
cessarily, be inclined to express themselves with
a degree of liberty not always becoming In ex
treme youth. If home training were more fashion
able, no doubt foreigners', impression of juvenile
America would be somewhat altered.
Surely '•respectful manners" are perfectly com
patible with true democracy, for 'true democracy
Is that which allows to every man possibility for
t!i' highest development." ;.nd who would have
the courage to say that the latter does not In
clude courtesy, the universal expression of nobi<?
thought and that sympathetic fellowship which
makes the whole world kin?
An ethical revolution would take place could we
nil ■ Use In our actions the hl(rh Ideal so beau
tifully expressed by I-owell:
!V noble, and th" S«bISB*SS that lira
la other men steeping. but never d**a.
Will r:»« in Biajstti to sneet thine own
J. MAC K. H.
The exchange la grateful to F. R. B. and S. &
G. for their courtesy in answering X. Ys question
In Saturday's !ssue. " The recipe has been Cor
warded to X. Y.
out, sleeps on blankets on the ground, walks
twenty miles a day. plays golf and tennis— never
rests. Thinks he's got to do it because he sits still
toe m .i. the resl of the year - Of course. It nearly
Kills him. because he isn't trained to It. I used to
take my vacations that way, but I've learned bet
"Ti^se girls tramp too much." amid Mr?. Burton.
.- ' . l i?' it. but I hate to be a damper on their
fun. X hey re a bit cross ard out of sorts every
year when they get home. Last y*»ar in a little
mountain sort. It was the in] m for nil the
women to climb and tramp every day. and boast
at night of the number of miles they'd made. A
big lanadVn woman set the pace and a lot of dell
cate ones tried to keep it up. They thought me a
freak because I wouldn't do It, though I'm not
not delicate. You see. I don't want to become so!
The other summer trials are bad enough for me."
I tried staying at home orce." said a woman
who had not spoken before.
"You did? And what came of it'"
"I supposed, of course, it would half kill me.
but it didn't. I was as well as ever in the fall. I
have one friend who takes her rest and change in
the winter. Sh<> says It's line, when you hare time
to do it." ' #
"Well, it's boner than spending the winter in
wondertrg where vu'll go r<-xt summer."
Tno young rran laughed again. "You shouldn't
take time to wonder.' he said. "Trust to inspira
tion. With me. 'It- Johnny Bowlegs pack your
kit nnd tr.'k.' as X", Una says."
"Well." said Mrs. Burton, rising "1 suppose we'll
ail k^.-, on v.-!th ■•';:• private fresh ;v- fund busi
ness, whether •••.. like it or ior And it does fresh
en us up! Come along, children, there's the din
' GOOD CHF.EK.
Have rou had a kindness shown?
Pass It on.
■*"«■«• not given for yj alone-
Pass it en
Let !t travel down th» yeara.
I>"t It wipe another's tears.
Till In heaven the deed appears—
P-bs it -jn.
SOWING AM) REAPING
What we sow
Will surely grow.
Though th» harvest may be slow!
It may he
We shall see
Fruitage In Eternity.
From some deed i
Dropped, like seed.
For a soul that was in need!
L*t us strive,
While we live.
Worthy things to do and give;
With good Will
Empty granaries to fill:
For what we sow
Will surely grow.
Though the harvest may be slow".
Letters are rreclvcil <K"cas!nm»!!y from admirer* of
the Tribune Sunshine Sn»-lrt.r allowing that they hove
easJSSsed it with organization* of nearly similar name
»üb»cqtiently »t»rted by person* whom they mistakenly
beUeveel to be «till In the «ervirr of The Tribune. To
avoid error nil eotiiniunlcationit. n»rka«e«. etc.. should
be addr«"«e<i "The Tribune M!n-»btn- »><-tety. Tribune
BuiUlinc. New- York."
RAYS OF SUNSHINE.
The following Is an extract from a letter sent by
a, Danbury, Conn.. T. S. S. member:
"I wish 1 could tell you how much pleasure your
gift of the Osborne Art Catalogue gave. it is
far beyond what I anticipated, and will shed many
ray* of sunshine In dark rooms. I shall frame
some of the pictures and distribute them to those
who need cheering It came in good order and
prompti-- and I am very grateful to The New-York
Tribune' for Us sunshine work. -y^ncerely
vj;.;"; 1 SOPHIA E. .VORRIS.-
CHEER IN THE WEST.
Mrs. Frank Thompson, of Lenora. Kan., wishes to
thank Mrs. Jacob Hay. of Pennsylvania, for her
contribution of clothing, papers, quilt pieces and
books for the Sunday school library Mr- Thomp
son writes that the box was especially welcome as
the corn crop is burn-d up and them prom to
be little money to spend this year In her part of
THE CASH GIRLS' OUTING.
The littlfi cash girls in one of Sixth-ave.'s bizgest
department stores clambered Into their special car
and '■ rgol all about salesladies end floorwalkers
and oushirrs and checkbooks, rot weren't they
bor.n-1 for Fort George as the guests of the Trib
unn Sunshine Society?
They came trooping out of the store punctually
at 12:13, the. radiance of a "good time coming" on
thfir young f.ices. As they waited, banked up. on
th«! corner, waiting for their "special.' many were
the expressions of admiration from passeraby at the
neatness and pretty di.-~.-<--s of the little bread
Mr. Schwartz, the superintendent of the Sixth'
eve. division of the Metropolitan Street Railroad,
accompanied thy party all the way to see that It
bad the proper .ire. and talked and Joked with
bis youthful passengers, much to their entertain
ment Hi- alsi gave directions to the starter at
Fort C.eorge that th»- Tribune Sunshine party was
to have the right of way on th.- return trip and
that no intruders were to be allowed on the car.
When th<- Ferris wheel appeared ■'■ view, such a
scampering of happy feet down the hill! The free
dom children so love and seek was theirs for the
rest of the day. , . ,
Everything was at their disposal— the carousal.
the* swings md the ruzzi.'-d.izzb The proprietor
and the attendant* seemed as much plei Bed at the
children's pleasure as the children themselves,
and many a "turn" not on the programme whs
Th'-re w:is a treat of ice cream, and the girls
overran th« Reids in search of golden rod and other
floral trophies to ta.ke back to their city Oats and
The merry afternoon en me to a close with many
Cheers and thanks for the Tribune Sunshine Bo
ciety CouW the kind friends who gave the ex
cursion have seen the g«nuine an unbounded
pleasure which flowed from their generosity they
would have felt gratified.
God hies, this noble^orjc. HART JKR..ME,
President of Ever Ready Branch.
OFFER TO HELP
A Brooklyn friend hns offered to send copies of
"The Living Church' "Illustrated History of OUT
Country " and "Ptctni eeque America. " and a white
shirtwaist to TSS members who would enjoy
them. The office will send the addresses to her
In ;i few days
The !>:-!Kht nasturtiums sent from <:rerelawn.
Long [•ton.d, on Saturday brought .i deal of pleas
ure to half a domen ps |
X large pa kage of birch b.irk came to the of
fice from Mr- Charles Ramadell. of Manhattan.
who is summering up the State "Mj h-.;shan<|
and children went to the wo writes, "and
re Du!«n.^f k W- : Blghty.fifth- R t.. New-York
, It> " has contributed materials foi embroidery
ami Pattenburg work •
F E Mkins sent a most iseful package to five
... & g. i- -v blue mohair suit in tint
condition, .i black Jack I a pair of shoes and a
couple ■•' !■•" ks
WHY SHE 13 CHARMIN'".
A eliarming woman once seen Is remembered
always. She is like a tuni<- to those who meet
' her Bbc attracts and holds her position forever.
Why? She believes in people She knows how
they feel, and svmpathlzes with them. Her
thoughts are kindly, and her dear. kind, speak
ing eve shows if She is Interested In the affairs
of others', all like to confide in her. sure that
their confidence will not be betrayed. She puts
her friends at ease, making them appear at their
beat, briiißinK out some talent No function is
complete without her Best of nil. she is un
1 conscious of It all but moves about in her sphere,
happy herself, rhiirminjr »>very one she meets by
' making them feel happier, and life better worth
1 living SARAH :~H VM COTT
P i< : The besi :n:Mi at a wi- ill . .- Is rapposed
to be rattreb: the companion ar.d attends
the bridegroom, and take? no part In the bridal
proi «■ ' ■■ -• th»- church or coins:
O.::. His first cars i- to sat ihit I •
provided the rtng. which he takei In bia oeta
poastssaoa, and bards to tho forirer at Ihe words
"with this ring." •t. Be goes Into the cestry
with tlie bridegroom through tSs private entrance,
ami r-r.alns there until the wedding m.t •
nounces 'h^ airtva! of the bride, whereupon the]
both g,, into the chancel and stand there facing
tb<* congregation while awaiting th-- coming < f
the wedding part- "'aririK the rasiIHMHIJ be stands
by ihe aide of tlie tiridegroom. handing him the
rlnrt as has already been stated, and then, when
the ceremony has been completed, retiring through
the vestry to Join tho ushers outside of the church*
with whom he returns to the home of the bride,
or wherever the wedding; entertainment Is to be
givens His dnress is the same ;>•< that of the
bridegroom— Prince Albert coat, light trousars.
v.-Hlte vest, white silk ascot tie and w! ate bouton
Bhe JVejrt "But One.
Maynard had come to town for the 'varsity match.
It was his annual visit to the metropolis, and the
card Miss Renton had sent him for Lady Brandon's
ball had found him with no reason for a refusal.
"Do come." she had written across it; and May
nard had come, knowing, all the time, he had better
have kept away.
The sight of Miss Rerton, a veritable queen in
the midst of the homage her beauty exacted, only
made him feel more ashamed of his temerity In
ever having dreamed of miking her his wife. lie
could but congratulate himself that he had had
the good =er.re to keep his folly to himself arid had
giving her no opportunity of rebuking his presump
tion. With her charms of face and manner, charms
that destined her to shine in the world of wealth
and fashion, was it likely she would hive been con
tent to become the wife of a country SSJBBre, who
had as much as he ■ sold do to keep together his
Miss Rentor. wes to make a rich SBatcU. It was
with this intention, open and avowed, that her
aunt. Lady Brando::. h.TI given her a season In
town, .mil May ward •!■: : noi dar*- flatter himself
that, in Lady Brandon's eyes his paltry fifteen
hundred a year would cable him to ■■! :im exemp
tion from th* stigma of poverty.
It was on Sir George Farebass. the owner of
Fareham Hall, in Yorkshire, a boose In Park I^ane
and ihe finest moor in Scotland, that rumor had
bestowed the hand of the fortunate young lady, and
rumor had penetrated even to th' wilds of Corn
wall, where Maynard had te»-n busy w.t'-. bis t stale,
knitting his brows over the drotrtb ard fearing for
his wheat crop.
In an interval betwst-n the dances he found him
telf standing close to his envied rival, who was
watching the doorway with evident impatience.
Miss Rentcn had promised the next dance to May
nard. and as she entered the room both he and
Fareham hastened to meet her. The latter reached
her first, and Maynard drew back.
But Miss Renton smiled sweetly.
"No. no, Sir George; it was the rest but on" I
gave you." She tun to Maynard: "This Is
Parebam rould but bow an<l acknowledge hi«: mis
take, wondering who the tall, sunoumed rran coald
be for whose dance Mi-.- Renteo had so careful a
"You don't want to dance. Mr. Maynard, do
you?" said she. "Come and find a breath of fresh
She led the way to the balcony, and they stood
leaning over the cushioned balustrade looking into
the street below. On the opposite side of the square
another dance was in full swing! the music sounded
across the Intervening trees.
Miss Renton sighed. "Isn't if a whirl" " she said.
"To me it to, 1 said Maynard; "but. then. I am
new to it all: three ilays of the season, you know.
Is my' annual allowance."
"Oh!" she said. ' t«l! rr about the country—
Trevethan; it s^ms years since 1 left It."
"I'm afraid there is little nov«»l;j in Trevethan.
The tide conies up the estuary twice a day. as
usual; and wo farmers grumble, as usual, about
th« weather. What am I to tell you?"
"You've told r> just what I wanted to know,"
she. answered; "there's nothing chanced. Do you
remember— one day when we picnicked on the golf
links— up there by tii« sandhills, where you look
all around the horizon and seem in the midst of a
perfect circle— you remember, some one said It
seemed like the centre of the world?"
Miss Renton paused and looked thoughtfully
down on the moving lights of the carriages. "
"I've often thought of that since." she went on.
"and I feel now as If It had been true, as if it had
b»en the centre of the world. Everything Feemed
so still there; here we seem on the very cis" —
rushing round so fast that it takes one's breath
M.iynard had refuse in silence, hardly under
standing her mood
"I'm so glad you came to-night." she said softly.
"I feel as If you. at all events, were out of th»
whirl; and you— you steady me, somehow, and help
me to think."'
Maynard looked around involuntarily to «c« that
no one was within hearing;
Mi.»* Renton noticed the glance and smiled a little
"Yes, I suppose it would sound strange " she said
"It isn't quite the thing to talk so seriously in
London, is It? One has to pretend that life "is a
game and that nothing matters very much — perhaps
"No, please don't think that." be said.
"Oh, it was easy enough in the country— there I
MODERNIZING OF COUNTRY WOMEN.
Changes in Social Conditions. DTess and
Horne — Surroundings in Greater Harmony.
'•' r < n steady growl - ,- n the
try f>xhiii:t no k>nger the sl:.ir: ! Oerei
twent; - ' try mat ■. r.v-e
.ntry woman, up- hfirnmlnt
err.n^d until the shades of dtsttnctb
th"m and i v - - folk arc almost. If no<
obliterated. o<> writes an observer who foi
year-^ has oscillated between rs and coun
• ■ ■:;i->r' ;
There la no on.- cause foi tinues
the observer Ir was Inevitable witti the trend of
progress. The world moves outward as well as
onward. Nowadays ■:.- trolley lands the two mile
away farmer's wife cto»« t.i the home of h?r
friend for a Visit and a cup of tea. No —-.1 to
wait for "John to harness up." or for the horses
to be freed from the demands of farm work. Rural
delivery of mails, at least once a day, is now the
order in practically all the outlying country dis
tricts. The dally or weekly newspapers the om
niscient saw slims. k»eu the farm folk thoroughly
allve to the topics of the times. Summer visitors
add their quota of Influence whei they are of the
class that honestly ndmires and genuinely appre
ciates, rather thai, Of the snobbish, ill-bred type
which the native people discriminatingly dub "rus-
Heaters." In truth, this type of summer sojowner
Is far more rustic In all that makes for the best
of life than the scorned country folk. Withal. in
the right spirited intercourse, the country man or
woman, gives as well as puns Atiother factor.
potent in social Influence, is the local grange of
the countryside, existing avowed!] for purposes of
common advantage. The grange hall and its fur
nishings are objects of zeal, quite as the meeting
house and vestry were twenty years ago. And
when a grange gathering listens eagerly— as ha;
pened at two consecutive meetings recently— a
lecture and discussion on "Th. Best Way to Raise
Sweetpeas" and "Duty of th" Individual to the
Community" the observer realizes that both .p>
thetic impulse and civic righteousness flourish in
These are a -few of the general manifestations of
the modern spirit in country living. Particular evi
dence one sees in the present day dress and sur
rouniimes of womankind whose homes are in quiet
places. The shirtwaist suit for every d.-. . the
modish hat— or no hat at all— the dainty "better
gown" are Just as surely to be s> m on the country
girl us un her •lty sifter. Perchance there is more
incongruity of enVct. and lets a.-suranc« ot bvaruis:
yet tiie ".ouniry damsel, driving iiome v.-.tn her
latin r irom market, la worn to i .ok quite us mod
ern and charming .<> the It) maidei on it>* «••
randa of tiie cuuniry inn. The country girl has
read the last no^el. she possibly has had Iht own
"nouse party." She knows of Miss Rooaevelt's
gayeties, Just as ti.e city girl on the veranda does.
As for the country mother— no longer does her at
tire consist of calico wrapper and curl papers. The
mother herself has passed out of that era of cos
tume. If her own aroused sense of harmony had
not forced her out. the daughter would have led
her away from those frowsy entanglements of a
liven to the grandmother generation the modern
izing extends. A farmer's wife living well outside
one of the New-England townships rides in her
husband* oxen drawn cart from their farm to the
town, seated tranquilly on the bags of produce, a
modern hat In place of the one time sunbonnet.
white necktie or trim shoulder cape In place of the
old enveloping .shawl. Mother and grandmother
have Intelligent opinions on the questions of the
day. 'They follow the event of the St. Louis Ex
position; they know, as well as can be known at
large, th«" status of the Russo-Japanese war.
An the change has had its marked effect on social
conditions and dre*«. so likewise has it affected
the home. Driving through the country nowadays
one sees everywhere trim flower decked door yards,
beds of geraniums, nasturtiums and sweetpeas;
clumps of sunflowers, dahlias and hollyhocks in
picturesque places. Hammocks are invitingly hung.
Windows show muslin curtains. Pianos have di."
placed organs, or made places . for themselves,
Kousei ,<nd barns, t, be sure, ar? torn, timed
bizarre in coloring. Bui Nature's wonderful set
tins of green co assimilate into beautiful Umd
s;ai>f even glaring pinkish r»-d nnd sickly blue.
Good browns, reds and •••• ■!' ■ prevail hi outride
paint, fortunately. New-Kngland tn particular.
once invariably green and white painted, or left to
the natural wood color, takes on year by year
richer tones. sijcnifi< :>.nt of its expanding life.
Without doubt. these changes in the people
themselves, in their dress ami surroundings, make
the country psenaanter to the city visitor. Country
living for half the year— many people say for a
longer term— ls th*> perfection of existence, when
to the charms of the country are added the amen
ities and harmonies of the city. How great a debt
we owe to the country— concludes the observer —
seldom stop to count. Emerson reckoned appre?
datively when he wrote of the accomplishment of
th« farmer's days— which the loving co-operation
of the farmer's' wife makes possible. "Where are
the farmer's days gone? See., they are hid in that
stone wall, in that excavated trench, in the harvest
grown on what was shingle and pine barwn.
Labor hides Itself In every mode and form. It Is
masked and blocked awv in that stone home, for
fifty years. It 1? twisted and screwed into fra-
could take even views, and— and— oh." she broke off.
"it's the hurry of it all that frightens rre."
"You're tired." he said lamely.
"Perhaps I am. but I wanted you to come to
night; and I wanted to talk to you seriously— we
have talked seriously before now, haven't we— ln
Maynard's thougnts flew back to his favorite
Cornish cliffs, back to the golf links, back to that
unique estuary where the tide flowed to and fro
twice a d'iy. and he remembered many a sail he and
her brother had had together, with Miss Renton
for a passenger. One evening in particular lived m
his memory. «rh~n they had rounded the Gull Rock
at racMt, and -■■:'»■! the sun sink into the crira-
"Suppose we sit down.'" she said.
Supper had claimed it- tribute of hungry men
and BXtidMM. anil th»* iialcony -was left In peace.
"Do you know Sir George FarehamT' she asked
J'ny.'.an: winctd; the conversation bad* fair to be)
"Only by si~':t." he answered.
M^.ss Rcataa w;?s silent for a mom. at: then she)
"I vrurt t«. n-k. your rc2v;ce."*
"M •• .-' ■ j'i»-rt» d "Suif lv
"(>h. ye*, I know wh-it you will ss?y: Tliere 9T9
lot= of people rr-v,iv enough with ;idvk-<\ but they
nil Ivive — Oh. a London point cf vlctr. you know.
Vnu don't loo',: at things in quite tho sr.~"V way. fir
lEKtanc*. tKvt I-afly Tirandon does."
Alavn.-ini smiled. "No. I Jon t support I do— not
"A i- yon still laltbful to what you ure^l to call
your philosophy of lif»?"
:». iyn:.rd smiled again. "I am fond of rev w«
estate— v.c r..\ • had it for so many generations.
you s*-e. arc' I want to do mv own little corner of
the earth. Is that what 1 -ill my philosophy of
UfeT every man to sweep his own do*>r?te;>— not
:»n ambitious gramme; is it?"
"A:- ! to i> rich and etnried, and som" ore In th»
world oi London, wouldn't t-mpt you?"
"No." be answered. "I don't know that it would:
but. thep, I lave never -lit! the chance."
"Have you my -any philc*oohy of love? Do yon
think it is tru»— what n<ecs have said about It
Maynard lookcl at her; marked th* graceful pels
i T tli.- h»id. tl;e sweet set of the Itos. th- TovciT
contour of the neck ami chin. "Love's not Time"-*
(■••<>!, thouzh rosy li»>s and cheeks within t.i- bend
ins rtckWs compass come." Did be love the sjlrl
by his rtd- fo- her bestuty alone? Was his the love
that would "bend with the remover to remove**?
He a?k.d 1 imseir the question frankly, and f"r
I'ie rronv nt. at lei-t. hail no doubt but that hi*
was the I iv« that "bears it out. even to the ei"s«
"Ti s." 1-e o-'IjI. "I ve nn th«> g| i.. of the poet".**
jTj^a r;<»:itnii played nervously vrlth her fan.
"Woiilr!— would you think ir wrong of a wots*;*
to marry a man— bf-oauso— because he was rich?"
"His wife will te th" er.vy of half the wesi tn
l»n<*nn." h^ «aid thouchtfun.v.
Mi^s Rrntim's color hei?hten»d. Mavnard h-»<f
forgotten for the moment that he hid ".-> right to
assume .i knowledge of the particular "he" con
"Y-s." she rejoined, "wealth ani the envy- of
one's friends are idols that we most of us bow
down to: but you — you haven't answered m* "
The music of the' "next but one" ha;l begun all
"Quick,*" she exclaimed, hurriedly, almost hys
terically; "I am dancing with him— this very
danee — you must help me — one drifts so. Oh. you
don't know how hard it is'" •
Maynard drew a Inn? breath.
"You mustn't a=k me to help you." he said slow
ly: "It lan't fair
"Why not?" sfie asked.
"Because— though I revr bad much hope — until
there is some on«» ei«»> there is alwny* n little."
Despite the ! ■■■ ■'.:'■ intonation thsre vras no
mistaking: his miming.
"Oh." she cried. In a s.-af-d nn.'error.e. rising Jr»
her agitation, and moving aeain to the of tt»
balcony: "what have I don« ' "R'hat will you tMr-.fc
of me' On my honor. I n'v»r knew— l never
'He followed her. protesting that she had done r.o
"No. of course you never kr.-Tv." he "a'J. "hr-w
should you? I ne-. mrant to tell you— lt's all right.
"Oh but you don't understand: it Isn't that — It H
—oh. don't you see. it L.oks ;1 s if I had wanted you
to tell m«» — and— you must believe me— on my honor
I never knew you carer*."
"What do you mean —
"Ob. what will you think of aif." she rted asrain.
"I was certain vnu didn't d»r». but" She whi»
perofl the words so low thiit h* <?oulr! scanreb*
CMtcii what she sr»id. "I think I have wished that
you did care, since ever so Ion? ago."
Tho valse w:«s "Mandaliy." Through the one-!
window came the rhythmic lilt of the refrain: bur
the music of the "n":;t but one" had no anxiety for
Maynarl row. A line of song rose triumphantly
to his memory:
Plucky lot »he tare' 1 for i!c'» r.h>n I kt«?ej '•" wher«
On the r;a>i to M.in.lalay.
grant hay which fills the barn. It Is under the
house; in thtr well; it is over the house in slates an.l
waterspout; It grows in the corn; It delights us in
the flower bed: It keeps the cow out of the garden,
the rain out of the library; the miasma out of the
town It is In dres*. in pictures, in ships and can
non: In every spectacle. In odors, flavors, in sweet
Bounus, in words of safety, of delight, of science.'
WORM IX CABBAGE PATCH.
Mrs. Wiggs or Lovey Mary Sent It to til
[FROM TKE TKIBt'NE BfRE-VC.I
Washington. Aug. 2?.— The -■■-.■ caooages
In a certain part of the country has almost ceased
and. as usual, a woman is the cause of it. Tbis
particular worr.an was making sauerkraut. Sh«
had chopped and seasoned enough ingredients to
fill a barrel, when she discovered a horsehair sn;;l:* .
Fearing th.. the littl- white worm-snake hidden
in the £old< <>f the very last cabbage had pcicousd
ihe whole qu:tnti:y. she threw it all away. Boiled
dinner? have become unpopular in that neighbor
hood since the incident, and debases are allowed
to decay where they grow. The worm was sent to
the Smithsonian with its story. A few days later
ar.othf r letter was received from a different part or
the country, rcntjininu a narrative of a hairsnaka
which had wound itself around a cricket artil
squeezed the life from ir.
The worm-snuke is a parasite of the cricket, and
the solution of the matter Is that the cricket diet:
after th«- spake made jts appearance in th!s rid.
and the latter wound itself r.rour.il the tody cf the
insect. It la known rot i>> have a/iy of the pow»r3
of constriction possessed by the snake. II la decid
edly not poisonous. When a.-ketl regarding the
damage done by the worm-snake in the sauerkraut.
an official answered that worm-snakes were not
Rood as a steady diet, but that ••"• > or ■ ■*">•■ now and
then wouldn't make much difference.
Many and Incredible lire the stories v sent to the
museum during the year. In some instances, how
ever, they can be easily explained — nearly always
when snakes lake the leading parts.
As if t-> coui-.terbalarce the satisfaction fe!T. bj
the. Lcndna tradesman over the last season.
which wp.s bot!t long and I ••«!. the hotel keepers
and amusement men at the English seaside resorts
are walllEg over their had summer. Everybody
who can afford 1" has gone abroad, it seems, and
while the pleasure places look to be crowded It is
with a different class of peocle— the kiud that
doesn't leave its money behind It. People wtio>
used to go to a place for a fortnight now con
tent themselves with ■ week if they come at all.
and unless a place has srolf links. It car.not attract
any but the cheapest sort of visitor. "English sea
side resorts hay ■ lest their popularity," is the cry.
and every time the English se-.iside proprietor hears
or .-tees it it makes him Pee) the poorer. Social
philosophers aver that one reason for this state of
affairs Is the extortions of the natives, who com
bine to fleece the unwary pilgrim and stranger.
Another reason given is the re-establishment of th»
entente cordtale with Fran and French sr-">a<ctn-r
countries, which was sadly fractured during th»
Boer war. Yet another is th- undeniable and un
palatable truth that money is mm -
The old roatd of fifty years ago, who kept fi cat
to solace her hours si lonliness. has a curious
counterpart in the unmarried woman of the twen
tieth century who keeps cats for profit. The cat
Is growing ir> popularity as a pet in the home*
of the wealthy, nnd (t is not likely that "he supphr
of high bred cats will »-xiT*>rt the drcsund for sosasl
time to cone.
lie fannlns; is fas: coming to be r°i-o,;r.ire-J .<■•
a croxssn's industry, jo successfully true wormi
;:tk»:i) it u;i. Net cr.lv do tamers' vrlvrs *•?•».»
net from th-ir hives r> Hrser asaoaS Income' th^n
th«ir hcsbacdn are übir :<> rrstke in the- s».im* prijil
from the produce of their farms, I :t fashionable
women are follow ins it at their country plac*.
with the result that they are able to resale the!r
friends durlns the winter with "hocey that I
grew myself." Mrs. Jacob Art.-s jr.. of "De-rHeM
111., who has made a reputation tor herself and
her honey in that part of (he world, says that,
beginning with one swarm that came into her yard.
sh« now has twenty-five strong colonies. They
have cost her little besides her care of them, and
they have yielded an excellent income. Women
who go in for bee? get to love the work and gen
erally keep it up a3 lons as they live. It U one of
the few industries where* It Is possible to sit still
and grow rich honestly through the *x«rtlana q;