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.2 DO MEN, AS A RULE, LIKE FLIRTS ? me Cold Truth Is, They Criticise Them Severely, But Event ually Marry Them All the Same, in This Merry, Giddy World. Ella Wheeler Wilcox Tells Why the Retiring-Girl Remains in Seclusion While Her Gay Sister Mar riest-Happily. the "Go" That Makes Young: Women Attractive, and Why Some Plain-Looking* Feminines Become Famous as Courted Belles. a Y^ • -wri*Tßrrmnj~_h._\ mam*lmmWmaamj*WTti_ Bf A Fan, White Lilacs and a Romance at a Ball in a Second- Tier Box— Fact and Fiction in Woman's Superb Kingdom. ERE you to ask any man the ques tion, "Do you like flirts?" he would reply in a scornful negative; a i) d h e would in all probabili t y 3d d some omphalic re i.arkstothe _RW irrlvJil ™V^"^ I Ka 11 c g a t i ye, writes Ella Wheeler Wilcox in the Chi cago Tribune. He would tell you that ■•a flirty girl" was his abhorrence; that the lowered the standard of her sex.and he felt genuine regret whenever he en countered one of them; and that any man who was rash enough to be in veigled into marriage by a flirt ought to receive our mingled pity and con tempt. 1 venture to* say that ten men out of every ten you might consult on this point would give you this sort of a reply in case you asked the question seriously and de manded a serious response. And yet— and yet— how are we to explain the fact that the flirts almost invariably marry, and quite frequently marry better than do their modest and retiring sisters? "We have but to look about us to prove this statement. Select your own imme diate circle of young lady friends— those whom you have known during the last ten years— and you will find, I think, that few if any of the Flirtishly Inclined Girls remained single, while several of their ■prudent and well-behaved and more in dustrious sisters are still clinging, un fathered, on the parental branch. Not many years ago I heard a father caution his two lovely and accomplished daugh ters against an intimacy with two of their girl friends. "Those girls are be coming so flirtish and gay," he said, ••that I am sure your good names will Buffer it you are seen much in their company. Men are quick to comment upon and misinterpret such friv olous actions as I see those girls Indulge in, and I do not want fou to suffer from an unwise in imacy. 1 have no doubt they are inno cent girls now, but they will soon lose the reputation ot innocence if they are Rot more prudent." The daughters of the gentleman listened to his counsel and ceased to visit the young ladies •who had been accused of being flirts — and not without cause; and yet, I regret to relate, the two flirts are today wives of men w ho' adore: them, and who are the most tender and devoted husbands, while the --two _. prudent daughters of the discreet gentleman have re mained at home un wooed and unwou. Innumerable cases of, a similar, kind Imve come under my immediate obser vation. 1 always feel exasperated with men when 1 see them choosing such girls for wives, while the prudent and discreet ones are possed by; exasper ated not; because of their choice so much as because "of their praise for the type they, neglect and their censure for the type.they, select. It is a curious problem": * I have tried to solve it and render the conduct of the men con sistent with their ever-repeated" asser tions of aversion to the very ' girls they seem """lost Ready to Marry. It seems to me that I arrived at the explanation of the problem. Men themselves do not know why they are attracted to and won by these girls, despite their better judg ment; but I think I can explain the matter to them. Stronger and deeper than man's cultivated and acquired taste for the domestic virtues of civil ized life is his inborn admiration for what they usually term "go" in women. 1 think 1 have seen more ineu'3 eyes sparkle when they described a woman as" full of "go" than 1 have ever seen from any other cause. A man will be very calm and matter-of-fact when he tells you how very beautiful somewoman is; he will be phlegmatic and prosaic when he tells you of some "highly ac complished and charming woman," he knows. Not a ripple will disturb the repose of his face when he speaks of some good, domestic, virtuous girls of his acquaintance; but when ;he says, •'By Jove! she's full of go!" his calm becomes exhilaration, his eye glows, his voice thrills. 1 have heard them say it •cores ot times, and it is always with the same intense delight and appre ciation. I heard it said once of a girl on a country farm: the hired man fell ill just in the harvest season, and she took bis seat on the great reaper and drove four horses until the over ripe wheat was cut and bound. I heard it said of a young girl who had been reared in luxury and idleness, and whose father died suddenly and left the family with nothing but debts; in less than six months sue had canvassed all the adjoining towns, and had obtained a large paying class iv music. 1 heard it said of the wife of A Famous Politician, whose energy and tact and brilliancy had won him half his success; and I heard it said of a society girl, who was not beautiful or rich, but who became a belle because she was the best dancer, rider, swimmer and talker in her set. Now, it is the same element— a sort of combustive hidden quality of character —that actuated these women to do what they did which causes many girls to become flirts. An excess of physical vitality, an over supply of mental activity, an ambition to do or to be which has no proper . out let—in other words, misdirected "go." Indeed, it Is only the occasional woman who is full of "go." whose life is so well directed and whose nature so well balanced that she keeps wholly out of mischief. At the same time, whatever direction or escape this element finds, it makes, itself felt above all mere neg ative-goodness or passive propriety coupled with domestic virtues. Girls devoid of this element do not under stand why they are not as attractive to men as some "less beautiful and less prudent friend may be, and think the male sex very unappreciative. They hear men severely criticise the girl whose misdirected "go" has led her into .flirtatious follies with his sex, yet he is attracted, in spite of himself, by the quality which actuated her follies, and he ends by marrying her. "1 do not see that it pays to be well behaved and prudent," said a very beautiful and modest girl to me recently. "The men treat you with respect, but they pay all their attention and finally raarrv the girls who flirt with : them." I could not deny the truth of her statements, yet I felt sorry to admit it. But no modest and : discreet girl need envy the happi ness of a flirt. If she marries a man she loves every indiscreet act and every familiar attention she has received from other men during Her Flirting Days will be like drops of gall in her cup of sweets. And if she does not love tho man she marries surely she is not to be envied, for she is very likely to continue her flirtations after marriage. The best advice 1 can give to the modest and good girls is to cultivate "go." Ex tremely discreet and domestic girls.who never feel any inclination to kick over the traces of conventionality, are worthy and excellent members of socie ty, but they seldom possess much "go." This quality needs to be born in a person, like most . other quali ties, if we would achieve great results, yet it can be cultivated. Shake yourself up, overcome your self-consciousness, your indolence" and your fears of public comment! Try to be animated, try to be ambitious, tact ful, amusing and thoughtful of others. Don't get into conventional ruts and act like every other girl you know. Dare to be yourself, for everyone lias an individuality peculiarly her own. But in your efforts to be attractive don't attempt to be flirtish when it is not your nature to be so, because you see that men make love to flirts even while despising them. If you do you will surely bring rid icule and disgrace unon yourself and win no man's regard. It is not the flirting ■which draws the men— it is the element 1 have referred to, which, when mis directed, frequently causes a girl to flirt, that attracts them, even in spite of their prejudices. A man would pre fer a girl who possessed "go" and who did not become a flirt. If you, devoid of this element, degenerate into a flirt, you will be like some literary aspirants who emulate the vices of Balzac and Swinburne without possessing any or their genius. Avoid flirting, my dear girls, but cul tivate "go!" At. THE BALL. A Fan, White Lilacs and a Ro- 1 nance in a Second Tier Uox. T WAS at one of the big balls at the Met ropolitan opera house last week, says Edith i Sessions Tupoer in the New York World. The music was crashing, the house ablaze with light and the flashing of jew els. The. boxes were filled with laughing, chattering, flirt ing groups. Flowers,per fume, the rustle of silks, the frou-frou of laces, the popping of champagne corks.the murmurs of admira- 4 t__ma z^ c *-~W tlon, and the mute but more expressive language or soft eyes speaking to eyes | that answered, made :* up the ** brilliant j ensemble. - "**, :**.' '*■*? *-? '-'■■ •: ' :* 1 The entire scene was like a sparkling passage in music, full of movement and 1 staccato effects. Strange that into it j there crept, like the cry of a breaking \ heart, a minor chord unheard " by the j careless throng of dancers, and be- i holders. . •„ . - . In a second tier box was the liveliest party of the ball— a , ci*owd of Bohe mians, writers and artists, with their wives, sisters * and sweethearts. Wine was plentiful and toasts were many. They were bemoaning the delay of one of their party, a woman who was al ways in the group. ''Why does she not come?" over and over was demanded. Suddenly she came, glowing, radiant, all smiles and pretty apologies for hav ing disappointed them so long. Her maid was probably the most stupid creat ure in existence; she had mislaid her mistress' fan, and an hour had been spent hunting it. Finally it had been . discovered at the last, moment, and thrust in her hand by the careless serv ant just as she was leaving the house. Was there no wine for her? Yes; here' was her glass waiting. Four or five sprang to -fill it. She laughingly delegated one .- as her cup-bearer, from his hands received the amber drink and raised it to her lips. " "• : - At that moment her eyes fell on the fan lying on the silken folds of her gown. Why, that was not her fan— the big, gray, delicious feathered thing, the weapon of au experienced coquette— ■ with which she had slain her thou sands. "-Whose was this— this somewhat faded toy, which she mechanically opened, noting : the tattered 1 lace, yes, and the broken pearl stick which hung helplessly down by the crumpled rib bon bow. *_k_BN3-^PV!V| Had my lady seen a phantom? Her .mile vanished; the repartee died from her curving lips. She lifted the lan to her face. A faint odor— the ghost of a perfume— stole to her senses. Lilacs? Yes;, white lilacs. j The "guttering hors*eshoe curving be tween -faded away, and with it went the dancers, the music, the lights, the revelry. My lady's blue eyes were staring straight down at the gay scene before her, but she saw nothing of it. What did she see? White lilacs: the winding garden path, bordered by trees bending under their snowy load and "shaking out honey." Bees rioted through the fragrance over her and a humming bird dipped his bill in a luscious cluster there, just above her head. She pulled down the branches, broke off one and buried her face in the flowers in an ecstacy of de light. How sweet they were! With the cluster in her hands she mounted the stairs leading to a chamber. Propped up by pillows, with great eyes in whose depths lurked the prescience of the fast-coming chance of woilds. lay a feeble girl whose hands were clasped m pleasure as she saw the white lilacs. "Oh, my dear flowers," she mur mured; "my dear flowers; I had hoped to pick you myself .this spring, but it was not to be." and. kissing the blos soms tenderly, she shaded her eyes and looked steadily at her sister. * "You will put a cluster on my breast when I am gone?" she said. "When you are gone ! Do not speak like that. You are better. You will soon be about again." "No, 1 shall go, and before the lilacs have finished blooming. And lam glad to die with my flowers." "Darling, don't; 1 cannot bear it." *"", "Yes, dear, you willy 1 know we have loved each other better than many sisters, but you will "bear it. You will even forget me and remember me only when by some chance you recall white lilacs. .See, dear, 1 have been looking over these boxes and here *is my fan. which I want you to have. Keep it always. I've a fancy I should like you to carry it on your.wedding day, dear." My lady drew a long sigh. "What is the matter with yon . to night?" cried a merry voice. . "I never saw you so subdued." t^^s_^vrTW r m*\ But she murmured some pleasantry, and, while her fingers tightened round her faded fan, she saw her sister lying white and cold with white lilacs on her girlish breast. '.' : :***Ss___-'^s§i_B3-£sS§sßj Then she saw herself standing before THE PAINT PAUL -)Ali,y/ GLOBE: SUNDAY MORNING, FEBRUARY 7, ' 1892. ---SIXTEEN PAGES. the altar in the old stone church. The afternoon suu was streaming through the chancel on a wedding party. The church was trimmed with white lilacs, and she, the bride, held her dead sister's fan. - • ' My lady's eyes were dimmed, but a cynical little smile touched her lips as the years since then rolled before her. Love deserted rose and looked at her across a grave (tiled with memories. Sorrow touched her shoulder and whis pered in her ear. A train of remem brances swept before her. Some kissed their bands and* smiled, others veiled their faces and wept. She pressed her fan to her cheek, and, as again the odor of the dead years stole to her, she came back to the pres ent. The music down there was send ing its waves of melody through the great buildine. One by one the party had left the box to enjoy its tempting measures. She was alone with her thoughts. Suddenly, down among the vast throng she suddenly caught sight of a face, a face which she had thought would never influence her again in any way, but the very sight ot which sent the blood to her white face. The dark eyes sent up one appealing glance. . She sat as if carved from stone. When she looked again the face had disappeared. Then a strange revulsion took posses sion of her. The old feeling was not quite dead after all. She forgot the es trangement, the neglect— worse. She remembered a hundred little kind nesses, a hundred endearing words. "I wish he had not gone," she thought, and tears slowly dropped upon tho shabby little fan. There was a sound behind her. She turned quickly. Her husband stood at the back of the box. He was very palo and his eyes were full ■of suppressed emotion, In his hands he held a huge cluster of white flowers, whose breath floating towards her brought back anew the old garden where he had wooed her. . "1 have brought you some lilacs," he said, slowly. Then his voice sank al most to a whisper as he added: "For give me." For one moment she hesitated, then, holding the poor little fan over her heart, she went to him and took the lilacs. THE SCIENCE OF DUSTING. Of the Greatest Sanitary Impor tance to Be Careful and Thor ough in the Work. T IS a scienc since the doctors have discovered for us that the •furnishings of our houses are the camping-ground, of lively unknow obles called bac teria, -says the St, Louis Republic. The removal of dust is, tnerefore, knot only a per il form an cc of aes thetic nee esssity, but of the great jest sanitary im- Iportauce as well- [mum It is not going too far to say that there is just as much need of : classes in the hygienes of cleaning and dusting as there is of cooking classes. The simple displacement of dust isn't dusting, and the whisking of the feather duster is no more evidence of cleanli ness than the possession of many books nowadays is an evidence of learning. A room is dusted only when the dust is taken out of the room, aud that is done only when it has been carried out of the room. This is done by using a soft, slightly dampened cloth to dust with, and by wiping the surface of each article slowly and with care not to throw the particles of dust up in the air, whence they will settle again instantly somewhere else. The utility of the feather-duster ex cept for walls is to be doubted, and even for walls a soft cloth is better. A thin silk cloth or a piece of cheese-cloth makes a. good duster. So does - a soft, firm woolen : cloth, but linen and cotton flannel leave lint behind them. One woman 'uses all. her worn out silk stockings for* dusting, and still ; another makes loose mittens out of old woolen, which she puts on *as "dusters. A turkey's wing is admirable to get the dust out of chinks aud between rails.and chamois gives a last "polish better than anything else. The best polish in all the world to Keep furniture from look ing dingy is the following : Two table spoonsful cottonseed oil; one table spoonful turpentine. Instead of cot tonseed oil, grout oil and good vegetable oil may be used. This should be well rubbed into the wood, and then a last polishing given with chamois. This is the recipe of a famous furniture dealer in "Sew York. BBH YOUNG GIULS AT COLLEGE. They Should Not Leave Home at an Early Age. GREAT many girls nowadays get away to college too young. This is becoming more com , mon as the academic course is more directly shaped toward prepara tion for college, and that alone, says the St. Louis Republic. A 'girl may possibly be very well qualified to enter college at seven teen, but that is no in dication that she will not be better qualified at eighteen or nineteen, a"nd even twenty. Nat ure as it seems to most girls, lias advantages all its own. A girl's brain at seventeen is not so strong as it will be at twenty, neither has her body the poise of health that it will have later if she is careful. More- *jp_s_WL__* ii li over, her course of preparation has necesssarily been continuous up to the time of her entrance to college, if she. goes at seventeen to eighteen, and there is no doubting that a rest of a . year or two before the strain of the new life be gins is highly beneficial, both to body ana brain, lt gives the eager young intellect a chance to digest what it lias already taken in, a process that nothing but leisure and time will bring it; it gives her a chance to apply the knowl edge she already has to tile problems she finds about her, and to get new knowledge from the results. Moreover, a girl at twenty ..knows what she can do better than a younger girl. And she usually knows* pretty definitely what she means to do. ln this way she is not likely to misdirect her energies at the outset. Any one who has had any ex perience, in teaching girls vary ing in age from sixteen to twenty-one and over must have noticed the greater strength and solidity of the more ma ture mind. The older girl may not get her lesson so rapidly or recite it so ! fluently as the younger one, but in nine cases out of ten, she gets more out of it. Let a teacher ask a few questions just beyond the range of the lesson,' but suggested by it. and she instantly sees that the older mind is the one , that can follow her. This is not a matter of; su periority or inferiority in brain, but simply a matter of maturity. The prin cipal of Somerville Hall, Oxford, lays great stress on this subject in receiving English girls into the university. - Girls are admitted here at seventeen*, but far better results are gained in the opinion of this thoughtful woman where the students are considerably, older. - ••_•; , Two. Anxious Women. Boston Courier. ■■'■ ■■'■ "■ It was in the crowd about .the door of an overflowing meeting of the W. C. T. U., and the women were struggling with the vigor boru of devotion to a sacred cause and an eager determina tion not to be beaten by each or any other. One little woman who was much mauled about, and who at last came to feel that her situation was' pretty nearly hopeless. . turned., her; face toward ■".". a pleasant' looking stranger who was struggling by her side to breast the human current. "Oh, dear," she said, do so want to' • get in. '1 want to hear Lady Somerset speak." v "And I want to get In," the others re plied, "for l ! am Lady Somerset,' and 1 have to speak." FLiOREXCI. MGIINGALE. Unpublished Itnniinisccnccs- of the Distinguished Heroine. _T»_^ "^"-^ OON after the close . of the Crimean war there was a memorable' dinner In London, giv en by Lord' Stratford . to s (the ranking oflicers of the British army and navy, writes Mrs. (Jen. Wallace in . the St/ Louis Repub lic. Natural ly, versa-* tion turned on the recent conflict, and tnivcif .1 (, „ ' l » « cl i ?l ni conclusion of the entertainment the host suggested that each guest should write on a slip of paper the name connected with the war which he believed would be most, illustrious through future ages. All wrote as requested, the ballots were* collected by the proposer of the move ment, were opened and • read amid en thusiastic cheers, for every one of them contained the name of Florence Night ingale. The result has proved the truth of that evening's prophecy; a whole gen eration has passed since then, rand who thinks of the dead and gone generals who fell at the storming of the Mala koff? The elocutionist gives the "Charge of the Light Brigade" without knowing who obeyed the bitter blunder; the military student may recall the hero of Kinglake's history— the' beloved Rag lan- -and possibly some veteran dimly remembers the great commander of the gray hosts of the Vladimir, but the sweet name of Florence Nightingale is. dear in almost every home where the English language is spoken. • Ancient Scutari, the largest city on the Asian shore of the Bosphorus, is overlaid with history, far-reaching and full of association which stirs the deep waters of memory, lt was the haunt of hordes in the mythic period; they are forgotten. Persian satrap and the West ern Crusader encamped on the heights; they are not mentioned now; nor is pious Godfrey or imperial Constantino; but every tourist is pointed to the yel low building used as Turkish barracks, where the world has learned how divine a woman may be in ministry to men. '.In Constantinople it was my good fortune to know an English woman well acquainted with the subject of my sketch, who left England when she was about thirty-six years old. Said my in formant: "1 have often seen her in the midst of suffering, and where misery and despair were deepest she was sure to be found. Her figure was slight and* graceful, her manner dignified, her face beaming with tenderness for the sol diers, who blest her as she went by. Her fortitude at surgical operations passes belief. Once when the agonies' of a patient in the hands of surgeons put to flight his attendants. Miss Night- ingale turned around and with grave rebuke called to the trembling fugi tives: -Comeback: Shame on you as Christians, shame on you as women 1' And her courage, joined with what the ' French call the gift of command.brought the timid nurses again to their duty. . "She was always on her feet, 1 "never . saw her seated but once in a council of surgeons, who , hated her because she broke, through their routine and refused submission to regulations."* . From the bloody heights of Inkerman 900 wounded were sent to Scutari. She demanded mattresses.stores for the sick, locked in the custom house or lying in the ships in the harbor, and was told three days was the shortest * time in which they could be unloaded; and dis tributed, and the rules of the service could not be transgressed to save even 1,000 men. She..; hastened to the maga- ' zinc.told the sergeant of the guard who she was. and asked if ,he would take an order from her. He ,, replied he would. • She commanded him to break down the door, for the men would- arrive iv a few hours and no beds were ready. That incomparable woman -stood all" day, or dering, arranging, distributing, in the midst of unspeakable misery, her ap pearance everywhere a sign of good : comfort, and so touched witn heavenly charm that virtue seemed to go out from her garments in the press of the crowd. The brief space allowed me will not • hold half I have to tell. Night was her : accepted time. When the attendant and medical officers slept, and silence and darkness settled on the long lines of cots, holding the broken wrecks of the bloom and flower of English soldiery, she walked the dreary corridors alone. A little lamp in her hand scarcely il luminated the gloom a few. teet around her, but it was cheering as sunlight, an omen of hope to the hopeless. Now she whispered holy words to a youth moan ing half-sleep of home aiid'niother. now. smoothed the pillow of some wasted skeleton from the trenches, or lightly touched the limbs straightening for the grave. What wonder" that hundreds kissed her shadow as it fell, and, soothed |by her benign presence,' turned on their narrow beds and closed their eyes to pleasant dreams. When her work was ended and peace declared, honors were showered on her. The Cross of St. George was presented by Queen Victoria, engraved: "Blessed Are the Merciful." An exquisite brace let came from the sultan, but she stead ily refused all moneys. A man-of-war was placed at her disposal on the re turn voyage to England ; she declined the distinction, and traveled through France by night in order to save pub licity. Sore need had she of rest and quiet; though prostrate bodily by the long strain, her spirit was undaunted. From her darkened chamber and in valid chair she spoke cheerfully to the infirm of heart and purpose who sought her counsel, wrote letters to unknown correspondents, and' patiently listened to intrusive appeals which must have appeared via I to her comprehensive mind. Her heart beat for all humanity, and before her noble nature nothing was too petty or mean for interest. To the last she was a comforter, brave and busy, refined and delicate/forgetful of nothing but self. Brief Mention. Miss Searing, of New. Orleans, who is i described as a young and charm ing" woman, is conductor of a large orches tra. ragpS The prize for the design of a seal for the board of women managers of the ■; Columbian exposition has beeu awarded to Miss Sara Bodtker. ■ Mrs. Frederick Neilson, the sister of 'Frederick Gebhard, is an expert in judg ing a diamond, detecting readily the least flaw or falling off in color. Lady Salisbury, wife of the British premier, has become a member of the women's committee formed to look after the exhibits of English women at the world's fair to be held at Chicago. . Miss Mary A. Livermore is the '. first and only woman student in the Crozer Theological seminary, where she; ex-/ pects to take the full three years' course in order to fit herself for missionary work. Mrs. Halle T. Dillon, M. D. (colored), daughter of Bishop B. T. Tanner,' is not only the first colored woman physician, but the first woman of any race to pass ; the Alabama state medical examination. Dr. Dillon; after passing with a .high avfcrage, now occupies the place of resi dent .physician at the Tuskegee (Ala bama) institute. z^_m^s_^m_^_^EE_\ The Duchess Eugenic Littaßoloquine, of Milan, is winning the admiration and regard of all good. women. Wearied of the monotony of fashionable lite, she has sold : her jewelry, laces and fans to secure "WO,OUU with which ; to , build : a hospital for little children in her own city, It is her purpose to take a subor dinate position in the convalescent ward of the hospital. ; . /.'„■. Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U. S. Gov't Report LV'^sßstm Powder ABSOLUTEIX PURE WASHINGTONSOGIETY In What Manner It Differs : .; From the Giddy Whirl of ] 1.2 Gay Gotham. Cosmopolitan View of the Capital City's Pillars of ■><- Society. New York Considered Alto gether Too Mercenary for Good Form. * The Government Employe an Exceedingly Fortunate -; : Person. Special Letter to the Globe. New York, Feb. 4.— On visiting Red fern's establishment in Washington the other day I was so charmed with the refined air of unaffected culture of the inhabitants of that city, the width of its streets and charm of the surroundings, that 1 felt quite loth to return to the bustle and dollar-grabbing which to us uninitiated foreigners seems at times to constitute "New York life. Please don't bristle, and don't recount the advantages of New York life to me, because not be ing a practical person, with a good head fou business, I probably shouldn't un derstand them and shouldn't appreciate them if 1 did. To a cosmopolitan stroller like myself New York is full of interest, but there are times— l say this with the greatest re spect for this clever precocious city— when one tires of that "mixture of -the millionaire, the stock broker, and the effete old family," that Julian Haw tiiorne writes of as some of the features of New York. That cleverness, genius and culture are encouraged, no * ob server, however superficial,' can fail to see, but it often seems to be encouraged as a promising speculation, as an ex hibition of cultivated talent in which the audience takes the merest outside interest, and in some cases with the dreadfully poor motive of adding to its list of wonders and celebrities which, to use a horribly coarse pnrase, "it has -done." '4<sJ^__famfjtt\_u% llire_|cr_Bi_a__MW_fl___ v -lt.i was. noticed this season' that the opera has not succeeded in drawing the 4uo from their own little round of social gayetles.- This does not look as though music is valued as it should be by the' people of the most progressive city in the world. Now Washington is ndt'dis tressingly busy, and, therefore, has time "to spend m'studying and enjoying music, literature and art. >. Government i em ployes with business: • hours -which only .take* a small .slice out of the day and" leave a good proportion for recreation/ dabble delightfully in ***** archaeology, ■' water-color painting '.'. and **: conver sational French. Who is not fa miliar with that r charming figure, -Arhiithnot, the y government clerk in ..♦♦Through One Administration?" Perhaps it would be hard to find ; quite such a complex,* quietly witty, accom plished and faultlessly mannered young man out of a book, but "he " has maiiv of the points which mark the Washington society lounger. And then the street comparatively free from the rush and rattle of business traffic, file carriages, the statues, the. dome of the capitol, everything clean, gay and unoppressed apparently by business. The type of man who becomes a piece of furniture when out of his office— Mr. Merdle of society life— is an unknown quantity in Washington! ' :...,. Books are well discussed. Pictures are intelligently criticised. Music is enjoyed, not endured. But of money little is heard, although from appear ances it is used— "seen, but not heard." The Washington ladies are certainly not quite as stylish as the New Yorkers, but at the same time they dress in good taste. While there 1 noticed a soft cin namon-brown cashmere gown, trimmed with bands of mink, with the upper part of the bodice and the train of stamped velvet, lt was made in the Russian style, which seems to hold its position with great firmness. The manner in which the bodice is fashioned seems extremely popular just now, but it should be adopted only by thin or slight ladies. A sketch of this gOwn will be seen lower down on this page. The banded coat Is another thing which the Washingtonians have adopted after watching them cautiously as worn by visitors from Paris and New York. This coat, though perhaps shortening in its effect on the average figure, is very stylish and a great relief after the three-quarters coat with no relief whatever, which has been the ap- Droved livery of the fashionable woman for some time past. li^y^pll ; Here will be seen a fair type of the coining coat. Large lapels— l have Red-" fern's own word for this— will extend over the chest and break away over the sleeves,' which, "in :-. their turn, .will be "•'out" up"- use a technical expression which apparently means a great deal, ln fact, no sleeves are perfectly plain from shoulder to wrist except In the unalterable tailor-made gown. If not pulled, looped, trimmed or out—they are shaped in some peculiar form, leg of-mutton'being a favorite. /arty^fe^wil| The blouse, that much grumbled at much worn garment which seems to have "come to stay" and means to go on forever, is to be made this year with a deep corselet and .braces. * They say these last additions are to be made of wash letter and Russia leather. But they can say anything of that sort while we are only anticipating warm Weather. When it comes the thought of leather will be too heating— the wearing of it im possible—but for spring wear the idea is pretty and feasible. " LEBarox de Bremoxt. HE BARELY! NOTICED HER, And So She Sent Him a Cutting and Sarcastic Note. F COURSE she was provoked when he passed her on 'the street without . stopping to speak to her. He lifted his hat, it is true, but she re called- the time when he ! would have turned' and walked several blocks with her, no matter how pressing his busi ness," says the Chi cago Tribu ft c. I . .".'■.''"";*,'v^s 8 "T " Hadn't they been sweethearts a few years before? Why should the fact that they ban not met for three years so change - him? Ought he not to be the more pleased to see her? The more she thought of it the more she jelt that he should have paid her some little attention, if only for the sake of old times, and when" she reached home she was so angry that she re solved to make him "repent his apparent slight. The next day - he received the follow ing: :*..'■ Mr. Filkin: I belive you have a pho tograph of me— one that 1 gave you sev eral years ago in a moment of girlish tolly. * 1 -have since regretted that I was so thoughtless in such matters. 1 will esteem it a favor if y_u will return the photograph" at your earliest conven ience. Ethel Deaxe. "•■ She held that it was a cutting note and that it would bring him to his senses if anything would. She told her best friend that she had . brought him up with a round turn, but. she didn't tell her best friend about the fol lowing reply which she received: . "Miss De axe: If you insist, of course, 1 will do as you wish, but it will be a great deprivation ■to the baby. The little fellow is passionately fond of pictures, and for nearly six months the ■photograph of you has been regarded as his especial property. Still my wife says she will take it away from him if you really need it. Very truly, Albert Fieri She didn't send* for it. She didn't even bow to* him when she next met him on the street. She didn't do any thing except wonder when he was-mar ried and why she was so foolish. WHEN TO WEAR DIAMONDS. Some Good Advice That Young Ladies Should Heed. Diamonds should not be worn in the morning ever, says the Ladies' Home Journal. |_P^_&9_£| They should not be worn when a sim ple visit is paid before "* o'clock. y They should not be worn when one is doing charitable work. . ■ * :'* They should not be worn . where they are likely to attract so much attention that they will cause envy and heart burnings'." They should not be worn m profusion with any street toilet, although a' small brooch, a pair of solitaire ear-rings and a ring, which is concealed oy the glove, ".> are frequently noticed on refined women. They should not be worn . in bathing; this sounds a little odd, but as they have been seen in such places somebody ' evi dently, needs to be given a word or two about them.*linßn-MBBB_-BHn§-___HB-i Tliey should not be worn to any* ex tent, even in the evening, ats place of amusement. __ftoQSg_-i__£_Bß~i They should never be seen on chil dren. . They should not be worn by people who are in mourning. - r - They should not be worn unless one's gown is in harmony with them, for a boi ed, mussed costume and a profusion of diamonds is a very bad combination.; They should not be worn by men. I They should not be worn at all unless they are real, unless they are properly set, and unless - they are suited to the weare'r.'tM-)i--9W_UBoflßH | VfflP^i Enormous ear-riugs, pulling down the lobes of the ear, are the essence of vul garity. Enormous pins that look like electric lights are in equally bad taste. «a - THE GREAT SUCCESS WW of the genuine imported Jo &__» harm Boll's Malt Extract as. a JlB^L tonic nutritive has caused a Ml Ha crowd of fraudulent imitators fl to come into the market. Be \ \__m^\_ ware of them ! The genuine B||j|g'jHhas the signature of "Johann _-^^_i Hoff " on the neck of ever bottle. RELIABLE Clearance Sale Shoes. We make no claims of selling" Shoes at "Half Price," op "Fifty to Seventy-Five Cents on the Dol lar," but we positively assert that OUR PRICES are below any and all competition. THIS TRUTH is DEMONSTRATED and daily INDORSED by keen, and prudent buyers after CAREFUL COMPARISON. Our FphniArv niQAHinpp Qplp GUiUdij uiydialsuo ddiu Will include Tomorrow and the remainder of the week, the following Special Bargains: Edwin C. Burt's Popular French Kid Button Boots for Ladies' Wear at $4; all our regular $5 and $6 Shoes. Ladies' Bright Dongola Hand-Turn Button, _.._.<*). Ladies' Hand-Sewed Walking Boots, $3.25. Ladies' Fancy Slippers and Oxford Ties at greatly reduced prices. Gentlemen's Patent Leather Shoes at $-50. Gentlemen's Patent Leather and French Calf Bluchers, $6. Burt & Packard's Korrect Shape Shoes, $4. These prices must convince you. This is the place and now is the time to buy RELIABLE FOOTWEAR. "■': tj The Largest Retailers of Fine Footwear in the Norihwest, 87 and 89 East Third Street, St. Paul, Minn. , Write for Illustrated Catalogue. Goods sent on ap proval.* * ■--■ a ■ « -f - -* ■* • -_-_——■ in _ n._ ,i * - .'*-.... ■ l QUALITY REGULATES PRICES Our Prices Have Not Advanced. _J_M_IL -_fcLJ xxTS OF THE HIGHEST QUALITY. PRICES THE LOWEST. WE ARE HEADQUARTERS FOR ALL PACKING HOUSE PRODUCTS AND CAN SUPPLY YOU WITH THE CHOICEST " Tenderloins, Spare Ribs, Fresh Hams and Shoulders. In any quantity. Hotels, boardin<r houses, lumber camps and all large consum ,':"**:" ers will do well to inspect our stock. £__*"* We can please the most fastidious in our Matchless Putter Department. ST. PAULPROfSION CO. Wabasha St., Between Sixth and Seventh. i>— —»———^— ——.——— ————— ————— —^ TUE DAI UPC FURNITURE I ML rHLnuL & CARPET CO. . 419 and 421 Jackson Street. Largest and Most Liberal House Furnishers in the City. ■iIBER y & _■__. J— ma. a^^mtw 9 ccc Hardwood Suit, r y ""•_•*" Square Glass, for <£ I o f_E_ jj ; -yi An Elf-emu ""-Piece Hardwood Suit, Chevai Glass, 18x40. with 3 Drawers, I y **3 like cut, at ! B!"J C-i -i i, ilw HH tjtaMjmmma_f9fm_*\ DRAPERIES ' '-"^-•" _ *'**osS_i-^ r ' Wall Paper, lEQJJttIICtMIC^HiJJTJ .|U| J llia iß*S{Bff!W r £**llß_^ ' ' BbS— l * - ft_a_B& 1 " t____s- Stoves, Ranges and Heaters of All Kinds. We Pay Freight 100 miles. Send tor Catalogue.