The Minneapolis journal. [volume], September 17, 1904, Colored Supplement, Page 2, Image 23

About The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939

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XA SXJMMEE TOUB I N BOHEMIA.
Illustrations 1 Penrhyn Btanlaws,
A poet?" said Bobby in tones of
deep disgiBt. "Really, Nancy, I think
you might draw the line somewhere.''
"Speaking of lines," Nancy went on
cheerfully, "there was also an artist
"Good Lord!" groaned Bobby.
"Incidentally, there was a sculptor
and a man who wrote problem stories."
"And I've been abroad only two
months.
"It was your going abroad that did
it, Bobby. It wakened a longing for
travel. I couldn't go to Europe. We
were too poor even to go to the coun- came often.
trv. That Wall street fracas compli
cated our summer plans dreadfully. I
said to myself, I really must travel,
but it must be a journey without
money and without price.' Then I shut
myself in my room and concentrated
my mind upon a purple iris in the glass
vase. (By the way, Bobby, there has
also been a yogi, but that's quite an
other story.) Did you ever concen
trate your mind on a purple iris in a
glass vase?"
Bobby shook his head emphatically.
"Well, of course, I really ought to
ohoose Bomethmg yellow, but I prefer
purple. I got just as many ideas
when I meditate'upon purple and the
ideas are much livelier. After I had
put in about 15 minutes on the ins, I
Baid, Go to. I will travel in Bohemia.
I got my tickets from Mrs. Wallace.
I was to be personally conducted. When
Mrs. Wallace couldn't do tho conduct
ing she was to provide a substitute but
I didn't bother her much about substi
tutes. I furnished them myself. Do
you know Mrs. Wallace?"
Bobby didn't.
"What does Wallace do?" he asked.
"He stays at home."
"What does Mrs. Wallace do?"
"She travels in Bohemia."
Bobby sat up very straight.
"Now, Nancy, see here.
"But she's all right, Bobby. She
was a Schuyler, but she a taste for
fcear leading. She doesn't Iterve to
live in Bohemia, but she wor
ships at the shrine of genius.
She has at least one rabid enthusiasm
each fortnight."
"You seem to have hit her pace,"
aid Bobby rather grimly.
"Exactly only I doubled up. Some
times I drove my enthusiasm tandem.
iYou see my time was short."
"Why?''
Nancy blushed and when Nancy
blushos she is adorable. Then she
looked embarrassed. Bobby knows she
never is embarrassed, but he always
finds the exhibition entertaining.
"Well, I knew that after August I
couldn't bo happy outside the Philis
tine camp the young woman said
vaguely.
Bobby returned the last day of Au
gust.
It was too transparent. He laughed,
so did Nancy.
"Te ll me all about it," he said, tak
ing out his cigar case. Bobby always
smokes cigars, and good ones Even
the most casual observer would never
expect him to be guilty of a cigarette.
Nancy put an ashtiav at his elbow
and offered him a sofa cushion.
"It will piobably make you very
tired,'' she said sweetly, and he took
the cushion.
"Mis Wallace gave a dinner," Nan
cy began A good dinner?"
"Yes
"That's not Bohemia."
"No, but it mtioduced be to Bo
hemians. They did the rest. I've
been where "veisos and hair and vm
ordinaire flowed like water, Bobby but
that came later. Mis Wallace's wines
are distinctly Philistine
"Where was Wallace?"
"He had an important business en
gagement at his club."
"My heart warms toward Wallace,"
murmuied the man who came often.
I went out to dinner with Mis.
Wallace's latest enthusiasm. Wasn't
that noble of her Bobby? He's a poet,
and she had told me that he was the
most fascinating being she had ever
known. She said he was like the an
el Israfel, whose heaitstrings were a
ute."
I '11 bet you made the lute play rag-
time," said Bobby.
"Not at all. You evidently don't
know Bohemia. There aren't any
Ten Commandments in Bohemia.
There is only one but that one
is, Thou shalt not drop thy
pose.' It's fairly Inspiring, Bobby, to
see how devoutly they follow that one
law. Israfel might covet his neighbor's
wife and run amuck the decalogue, but
never, never would he play ragtime.
It's this way. Everybody in Bohemia
falls in love early and often, but no
ood Bohemian ever forgets himself
oving. An egoist rampant on a field
purple. There you have Bohemia's
coat of arms."
"Buf he did tune his lute to sing
thy praise?" urged Bobby.
Nancy smiled.
"He wrote twenty-six sonnets to
me."
"Suffering Moses!"
"I've never been called out of my
name as I was in those sonnets, Bobby.
My worst enemy wouldn't have recog
nized me. Now, Bobby, tell me serious
ly. Do you think I have a sinuous, ser
pentine smile?"
Bobby grinned.
"And would you like to be a pome
granate flower and a marble sphinx and
an old-world melody, all in fourteen
lines?"
"Well, it's a good thing to hurry
thru a stunt like that," suggested
Bobby consolingly.
"He found out before we were half
thru the soup that my nearness trou
bled him strangely. He asked if I ever
felt a haunting premonition of ap
proaching pain, I told him I seldom
felt that until after the salad. Then
we talked about the Gospel of Pain.
Don't ask me what it is, Bobby. I
don't know but it's very beautiful. I
almost wept over it during the entree.
"We had Maeterlinck with the salad.
No it isn't a cheese. It's a man who
writes prose that makes one yearn, and
plays that make one squirm. Either
process is a delirium of exquisite pain.
The poet said so. Would you rather
vearn or squirm, if you had your choice,
Bobby?"
I don't think I've ever squirmed,
and we don't yearn in Philiatia. We
-just want things
For no apparent reason Nancy
blushed. Then she returned hastily to
her poet.
"We reached Swinburne bv dessert
time. You see the agonv of protest
ended with Maeterlinck and salad. With
the nesselrode and Swinburne we re
signed ourselves to indigestion, phvsi
eal and moral. On the whole, I think
I liked it better. It's more restful.
Still I didn't like sanguine grapes
of sorrow and purple blood of pain, and
dead sheaves, and ruined fruit, and all
that sort of thing with nesselrode. I
seemed so messy. I bore up for a while,
and then I asked him if he hadn't a
nico clean little Felicia Hemans bit of
verse, by wav of Cordial.
"He wasn't offended. He smiled a
beautiful, wistful, far off smile, and said
that a star eved, dewy-souled child like
mo could not be expected to find in
Saturday Evening,
J# MISDEMEANORS OF NANCY
By ELEANOR HOYT.
Copyright, 1004, Bouliledny, Page Co,
her hea?*i an echo to the sob of world
agony.
It made me feel very young, Bobby.
He looked at me across a great gulf
of years and experience, and yearned
for the snows of yester-year. Anybody
could see him yearn. There was no
mistaking the faet that, personally, he
had been steeped in sobbing agony, I
was very impressive. I was calculated
to make any girl long to be a healing
spirit. I quite understood why women
call him fascinating.
"Bobby, why do women find an un
savory masculine record interesting?"
They don't," said the man who
often "At least, good women
don't. It is the hurt of the record that
interests thoni fi posmbilitv of heal
ig. It is romantic, foolish. Men trade
on tho ion v. iu wnon good women
stop yearning over worthless men, God
help the world'''
They were silent for a moment. Then
Nancy put out a slim little hand and
patted his pillow. There were timos
when she ^is distinctlv fond of Bobby.
He apparently did not notice the friend
ly hand. He had learned to know
Nancy.
'And with the coffee?" he asked.
"We had eoftee in the drawmgroom.
The artist was served with it. He
wasn't really as beautiful as the potft,
but then he is very young. He is a
'The man who came often."
symbolist. No I don't know what it
is That's lust it If any one knew
what it is, it wouldn't be. The in
effably subtle is what my artist is after.
He told me so at once, so that I
wouldn't nurse any vain hope of satis
fying his quest. But then, a little later,
he decided that my smile had the sub
tlety of a Da Vinci smile. That's be
cause it is sinuously serpentine, I sup
pose I'm going to suppress that smile,
Bobby. I don't believe it is fit for pub
lication."
The smile was rioting over the
piquant facea gay, wholesome, infec
tious smile. Bobbv watched it with in
dications of approval.
A smile is the eyes of the observ-
er," he remarked, sententiously.
"Don't rob the general public because
a few Bohemians have astigmatisms."
"It was the next night after that
dinner that I really set sail for Bohe-
mia," Nancy went on. "Mrs. Wallace
went with me. The man who writes
problem novels took us.''
"Was he beautiful, too?" Bobby in
quired, with fine scorn in his tone.
"Bobby, he was lovely He looked
like a cross between an oatmeal adver
tisement and a spanked cherub. You
nevov iw anything so round and rosy
and innocuous and serious. Psychologi
cal? Whv, my yogi wasn't a circum
stance to him. Anything one says sets
him off, and if one keeps still the silence
sets him off He says silence is so full of
question that it drives him madthat
he can endure verv little of it at a time.
And he looks like a mild, benignant
full moon when he savs it.
"W went to a table d'hote place
way uptown. It is the last refuge of
the crinsen few, the last stronghold of
Bohemia. The artist begge"d me, with
tears in his eyes, not to tell any one
about it.
"Ms soon as it is known,' he said,
'tho crowd will rush in and spoil it, as
thev have spoiled our other haunts
"Tsn't i+
pathetic Bobby to be so
great that the vulgar horde follows one
and hanp's upon one's woids and gest
ures? There's something positively
epic about that retreat of the Bohe
mians. I reminds me of all sorts of
things in historv, only I can't think
what they are. Driven back from one
rockv fastness to another."
""Rock"*, thev are," agreed Bobby.
Don't interrupt me when am see
ing noble visions, Bobby. Making one
stand rfter another, only to be pursued
and routed. Why, it's like Homer, or
Poland, or the Boer war, or the tender
loin
suggested to the artist that he
ought to make a picture of the devoted
band planting their standard on the
Harl3m ho'ghtsort of a Custer's Last
Pallv group, you know^ He didn't
think it would be symbolic. He was
of laid it would tell a story, and no one
opho paints a picture that tells a story
can bo paved.
"It'i nice little place,
th
rt'fngea overv the elect There's a
garden and a l
12
rape arbor
and a delightful French patron.
He -would make an excellent Bloom
ingdale warden. He believes in humor
ing them, ces gens la. He told me so.
He confided in me. It was my hopeless
Philistinism that moved him to it, I
suppose. 'He said he had alreadv know
cette espese in the Quarter Latin, so he
understood them.
'Hs sont des braves garcons, mad
emoiselle, mais un peuvous savez, tin
peu'
I saveyed.
'C'est touiours comme ca avec les
vers et les tableaux. lis rendent un
peu drole. Mais avec do coeur! Mais
oui, mademoiselle. Ah, si on pouvait
acheter des poulets avec de coeur''
"It would be iolly, wouldn't it,
Bobby, if one couid buy chickens with
good will in any of the world's mark-
ets?"
"It has been done," said Bobby.
"Oh, no, it hasn't. Some men think
they are doing it, but they always pay
in something else, sooner or laterpay
to the last farthing."
"How many were eating, the chick
ens on this particular night?"
"About fifteen, I fancymostly men.
I met them all. I was quite a little
familysort of a mutual relief associa
tion. Everybody was allowed to talk
about himself for a certain length o
time, provided he'd give the other man
a chance to talk about himself for the
same length of time. Eeciprocity is
a great thing, Bobby. I've never seovi
lL- -'^i*-*--' Vf
men and women so frankly and absorb
ingly interested themselves as those
Bohemians. It's delightful to see such
simplicity of motive. I should think
Bohemia wouldn't be complex enough
for the problem novelist but I suppose
he goes, not for copy, but for a chance
to talk about his copy."
"We seem to have lost the poet,"
prompted tho man who came often.
"Oh, no, we haven't. He was in a
corner alone, his eye in fine frenzy roll
ingtoward me. He wrote the sonnet
on the back of an envelope (addressed
to him in a feminine hand), and sent
it over to me. It was my second that
day. He sat up late the night before
to write the first one. This second
one was most depressing. I seemed
there wasn 't even a faint auroral gleam
of sympathy about me. I smiled on
all. I was la belle dame sans merci,
and he suffered cruelly.
Later he recited some of his poems.
It's a way they have up there, a Latin
quarter importation, and part of the
mutual relief,"
"Beastly hard on the artists, I call
it," said Bobby. "What do they get
for their money?"
"Oh, they qust talk about their pic
tures. The things the poet recited were
rather warm for a July evening, Bob
by. He went on until the stoutest held
his breath, for fear that he wouldn't
stop in time to avoid a raid. Swin
burne would have hidden his diminished
head and thought himself a coldstor
ago plant if he could have heard my
poet. Everybody drew long breaths
when he had finished. Mrs. Wallace
was tremulous with rapture. 'What
temperament!' she gasped.
"He was quite prostrated aft^T uis
outburst. So were we. He came oyer
to our table and apologized for being
silent. The urge of song is a master
ful thing, he says, and leaves a man
limp
Bobby grunted discourteously.
I don't like your being in it," he
said, with a certain decisive set of his
jaw.
"But I've come back to the fold,
Bobby. I wandered after strange gods,
but now I CT(. ta louts of the
Philistines, where the conversation
wears lubbers, and the people only do
disioputable things. They draw the
line at singing about them.
There was another poet at that table
d'hote. He recited, too but he wasn't
lund. His wife said his poetry had a
wan, moonlight mystery. He told me
that ho and a few others had found the
seciet. Bless you, I don't know what
secret. 'Mallarme was nearer than I,'
he said humbly. Your true great man
is always modest, Bobby. But his wife
smiled and shook her head. It was all
very well for him to be modest, but
Bhe knew his worth. She begged the
problem novelist to help wrap her poet
up. They tucked a muffler around him,
and put him into a cape that made him
look like an anaemic brigand. 'You
can't know what a responsibly it is
ich a soul,' she
to have the care of such
said to be italics. Then she took
him home."
"Well, at any rate, they were mar
ried. I thought that was out of fashion
in Bohemia.
"Oh, no, Bobby. You're all wrong.
Most of them are mariied, but they are
dieadfully ashamed of it, especially if
thev are happily married. I isn't so
bad if the marriage is a trag
edy or has spoiled, a life, or
there are some other extenuating cir
cumstances. There usually are. The
poet and the lady who has the respon
sibility of caring for such a soul assure
every one that they married under pro
test. They thought it a degradation
of soul union, but the poet's publish
ers would have it. They said it was
hard enough, at best, to float his books,
and the American public wouldn't
stand for an American poet who per
sonally and openly outraged decency."
"They do these things better in
France.''
I did meet some Bohemian couples
who took a pose of transcendent matri
monial bliss, something sort of sublim
inal and uneaithly. We went to_ a
studio supper one night, and the wife
stopped us the vestibule. She drew
the cui tains behind her and put her
finger on her lips. She didn't say
'Hist!' but she looked it. It chilled
our blood. We were on the verge of
a stampede when she whispered:
'Hush! He is speaking of his art.'
"We hushed.
"Wasn't it lovely?"
"Wasn't there any salt in Bohemia,
Tancy?
Lots of it. Frank, iolly young fel
lows, who were poor as church mice,
but pegging away cheerfully at maga
zine stories and illustration and that
sort of thing. They weie usually mar
iied and proud of it and they talked
shop, but they didn't believe they were
the cream of literature and art. But
they aren't real Bohemians. They
don't assume the pose. They only eat
the cheap dinners."
"Wait till they arrive," prophesied
Bobby darkly.
"If they arrive, they'll shake the
dust of Bohemia from their feet, and
if they don't arrive, they won't think
thev have arnved. I like them. They
have a sense of humor. That's why
they don't pose as Bohemians. Your
Bohemian, so-called, hasn't really a
sense of humor. If he were presented
with one, it would be another case of
Undine and a soul. He'd flicker and
go out at once."
"But about that poet? He seems to
be a wandering minstrel.''
"Oh, yes, the poet. He lasted four
weeks. I went out to dinner with him
often, and we met in the park
I thought you never squirmed, Bobby.
It was a trifle hard to get away
from 'Arry and 'Arriet in the af
ternoon, but a glimpse of primitive
methods only accentuated the charm of
esateric flirtation.
"Oh, Bobby, Bobby, why don't you
talk to me about star-cool glances and
shadow-girdled brows and stirring
ghosts or dead dreams?"
"Bot!" exclaimed Bobby.
"Did you ever notice an aureole
woven, flower-like, in my hair?"
Bobby eyed the fluffy hair anxiouslv.
"I'm afraid you arn't observing,
Bobby. That aureole has been seen."
"What became of him?"
"He went away
One summer day,"
Nancy chanted. "It was in August.
That was the only graceful Bohemian
thing to do. He couldn't go on, be
cause he was a trifle afraid of me, and
he wouldn't go back, and there was no
fun standing still. As is was, he
had just time to show what he could
do in the way of reverential love-mak
ing, and then there was a golden op
portunity for parting and despair and
dumb resignation. I knew the resig
nation was dumb, for he told me ail
about it.
I was left with the twenty-six son
nets and a sweet memory. The sonnets
are to be published in February, so his
time wasn't wasted, and I needn't re
proach myself. Yet they say there is
no thrift in Bohemia.
I asked one of my nice boys why
the poet fled. He said the old chap
had gone up to Harvard to see his old
est son, and after that was going to
Indiana to stay with his wife and fam-
A PAGE FOR FEMININE FANCY
ily until his creditors got discouraged
and quieted down.
Then the artistbut that's another
story and weren't we going out to
Bobby rose from the couch, rammed
his hands in his pockets and stood star
ing out of the window while Nancy put
on her hat and veil,
"Your mother oughtn't to allow it,"
he said, turning around and speaking
very slowly and distrinctly. Yes, you
may laugh, but you ought to show some
discretion in your whims. That sort
of thing isn't wholesome. It isn't your
sort. I tell you 1 don't like it."
Nancy moved toward him. He fan
cied she was angry, for her face was
serious: but he stood his ground.
1 don't like it," he repeated de
fiantly.
Nancy stood quite close to him.
"I'll tell you a secret." she said
very softly. "Neither did I." Then
she added inconsequently, "Oh, you
nice, clean, sensible ordinary man!"
There was a queer little note in her
voice.
Bobby gave the beggar at the corner
a dollar.
XI.THE WAY OF A WOMAN.
A FINISH.
"Nancy's at home I've seen her."
There was a stir on the club veranda.
The young woman who had launched
the news bomb smiled sweetly.
The five men who had at one time or
another proposed to Nancy looked any
where save at their fiancees and wives.
The one man who had proved immune
showed a lively interest.
"Has she changed?"
"Um-m-m, yes. Pretty as ever, you
know, and charming, but different.'
"Bum go, her marrying a poor man at
last and trotting off tofcSouth America
with him. I wonder if she's sorry."
The five men hoped she was.
The girl who had seen Nancy shook
her head emphatically.
"Sorry? Sorry?Why she's maud
lin, positively maudlin about Bobby and
the baby."
WHAT WOMEN
WANT TO KNOW
By Marion Alcott Prentice.
Good Manners.There is a young girl
in our family this winter whose table
manners are a constant annoyance to
me. S he has never ben taught how
to behave at table and how can I
correct he faults without hurting
her feeling7Perplexed.
The principle factors of all well-bred
table manners are the same thruout all
the English-speaking countries, altho
localisms peculiar to the section are ob
served by the traveler. A young girl
who cuts an entire portion of meat into
pieces before she begins to eat. and
who butters an entire slice of bread
deserves to be relegated to the nursery.
As her presence your-, home is un
avoidable for a time, try and interest
her in a discussion of table etiquette,
and you will then have an opportunity
to point out proper usages without
seeming to be personal. If matters
cannot oe adjusted this manner, force
of example, by bringing her in contact
with cultivated young people may
bring about a reformation. To appro
priate the choicest part of any dish,
careless of soiling linen, loud mastica
tion or extravagant praise or com
plaint of the food are simple inexcus
able and stamp the person selfish
and underbred. Tab1
Sangedr
Cereal, Sugar and Cream.
Fried Eggs French Fried Potatoes.
Cora Dodgers Coffee.
LUNCH.
Curried Tomatoes with Rice.
Fruit. Tea.
DINNER.
Carrot Soup.
Beef Stew, with Vegetables.
String Beans Beets.
Endive, trench Dressing.
Wafers Cheese.
Apple Sago.
Coffee.
TUESDAY.
BRDAKFAST.
Fruit
Cereal, Sugar and Cream.
Broiled, Salt Mackerel. Stewed Potatoes.
Toast. Coffee.
LUNCH.
Meat Turnovers
Sliced Tomatoes.
Cake. Cocoa.
DINNER.
Clam Bouillon
Veal Cutlets, Brown Gravy.
Mashed Potatoes. Buttered Carrots,
Lettuce and Pepper Salad
Wafers. Cheese.
SyllabnbS
Coffee.
WEDNESDAY.
BREAKFAST.
Fruit.
Cereal Sugar and Cream.
Liver and Bacon.
Philadelphia Potatoes,
Vienna Rolls Coffee.
LUNCH.
Ragout of Vegetables. OHvw.
Fruit. Cake T**.
DINNER.
Onion Soup.
Roast Loin of Mutton,
Boiled Rice. Succotash.
Lettuce, French Dressing
Wafers. Cheese.
Grapes.
Coffee.
THURSDAY.
BREAKFAST.
Fruit.
Cereal, Sugar and Cream.
Broiled Bacon. Potato Cakts.
Egg Rolls. Coffee.
LUNCH.
Scalloped Meat. Olives,
Grapes Cocoa.
DINNER
Lima Bean Soup.
Veal Potpie Mashed Potatoes.
Stewed Tomatoes
Chicory, French Dressing.
Wafers. Cheest.
Cup Onstards. wi^
Coffee.
FRJDAY,
BREAKFAST-
Fruit
Cereal. Sugar and Cream.
Scrambled Eggs. Latticed Potatoes.
Defective Page
tfTHE MINNEAPOLIS JOURNAL, rf^llSftW|^fd- September 17, 1904. H?
mannersa,s like all
forms of training shlould begin in the
'nursery, and by insisting upon correct
methods, inelegant habits will not be
acquired. Allowing children or young
people to behave earelessly at home
when the family only are present and
expecting grace before visitors can
never result in aught but mortification
to all concerned. Children should be
taught that the best they can do is ex
ecte of them, then there will be less
of acquiring the blundering de
ceit vulgarly designated as company
manners, which is usually rendered a
failure by numerous little breaks. Dem
onstrate only the best 'Whether training
the very young or nearly grown child.
Never allude to the improper some
children would never think of doing
certain rude or mischievous acts were
they not thoughtlessly suggested by pa
rents or instructors. To say "don't
play with fire" is to implant the desire
to experiment and taste the forbidden,
with children of certain temperaments.
QUESTION FOR MONDAY
Removing Pemature Wrinkles.I am
too young to have as many wrinkles
on my face as I have.. They may be
the result of a recent severe illness,
but whatBver caused them, I want
them removed. How shall I go to
work?Mrs. L.
MENUS FOR A WEEK
From Table Talk.
(By Special Permission.)
MONDAY.
BREAKFAST,
Fruit.
All sensible women will rejoice in the
well-settled fact that short skirts are
here to stay even the Parisian, who
has been anything but practical in re
spect to the length of her skirts, has
capitulated. The instep-length skirts
are not only to be worn for walking but
for reception gowns, and those who look
best in skirts of that length will wear
them, and in many instances evening
gowns of round length tor dancing will
be seen.
In the longer skirts, those that barely
touch the front and at the sides and
lie on the floor the back will be fash
ionable for dinner gowns and general
evening wear. The skirts that he on
the ground several inches all the way
around, and that are as ungraceful as
slovenly, are taking their germ-laden
folds out of sight.
For women, especially those of middle
age, or of too evident stoutness or thin
nesseither being fatal to graceand
also the short woman, look better in
skirts that iust clear the pavement than
in the shorter or instep-length, but such
skirts are more or less a nuisance, for
they are iust long enough to dip into
every puddle or other filth on the street
and yet too short to hold upa pecu
liarly ungraceful effect being given by
the lifting of skirts that manifestly
clear the ground. Perhaps the compro.
mise between this and an instep-length
is best found in the skirt that clears the
pavement an inch all the way around.
I is to be hoped that all women
adopting round skirts will see to it that
they are not only long, but a shade
longer the front than in the back
after being worn awhile as when first
donned. If a skirt is not cut properly
there is a tendency for it to ride up
in the front, and this tendency should
be discovered and remedied, for noth
ing is more fatal to one's appearanco
than to have a skirt tilting up at the
front. Even a properly cut skirt, if
it is tight, may have its "hang" ruined
if its wearer is not careful how she
sits and stands in it.
The new skirts that clear the pave
ment from present indications are to be
fuller, and all sorts of plaits used, but
it# is hardly likely that the heavy
winter cloths this fullness will be at
tained in walking gowns, as it would
make them too cumbersome to be other
wise than tiring, and American women,
especially the younger ones, are, despite
their following of fashion, not slaves
to extreme modes, and prefer comfort to
discomfort when walking.
Coats fitted at the back and over the
hips, but swinging a little loose in front
to show vests of contrasting colors, are
a, feature of the new walking costumes,
but the devotee of the Eton coat need
not be discouraged. The Eton is a case
of the survival of the fittest, and while
many attempts have been made to de
throne it, it is too comfortable and too
well suited to the requirements of num
berless women to be otherwise than
fashionable so long as coats are worn.
For buving the ever serviceable sep
arate skirt don't get black that is al
ways a foolish choice for a woman with
out a long purse, who wants to get the
best use out of the skirt. Only the most
high-priced black goods are worth while.
Even the best qualities show every spot
and catch the dust. They must be con
stantly cleaned to look well they can
not dye any other color when they are
old, and, in short, black was never in
tended for an inexpensive garment of
anv kind.
The pavement gray and black mix
tures are the best and the common de
sign with the interlacing broken square,
made of black thread, is always stylish.
The fabrics that have a woolly surface,
or what the designers cal"nubs," are
not &n altogether wise choice.
The Between-Season Hat.
The hat of white felt really seems to
fill in the gap between summer and au
tumn most fashionably, and at the same
time most logically. The new shapes in
these are more or less upon the sailor
order. Not that this may be taken to
mean monotony for there are more
shapes and varieties built upon the
sailor block than one could at first im
agine. The summer shapes had a ten
dency to be wider from side to side
while the autumn productions lean to
larger crowns, with the longer line run
ning iust the other way.
And the crowns are shown in such
variety of style that the ordinary
round crown seems tame and monot
onous. Square crowns, oval crowns,
crowns shaped like a flatiron, others
with diamond points some shaped like
the base of a sugailoaf with a flat top,
and others with a top rounded off like
a man's derby hat.
In consonance with that dictum of
fashion which demands some touch of
brilliant coloring with the white cos
tume, all of the new white felt hats
have this little touch deftly introduced
In place of the flowers of the sum
mer time one finds the new plumes. Os
trich plumes are, of course, out of the
question upon this style of hat, but the
soft coque plumes, with feathers that
stir with every passing breeze, and the
hackle plumes, with their closer, shorter
feathering, are so graceful that one
could not desire a prettier or more
artistic trimming. Very often the de
mand for the touch of coloring is ex
pressed in the plume, and the rest of
the hat is left in# white. The smoked
pearl, a new coloring in dull gray with
glimpses of opaline tints, goes well
with white, and when a little knot of
Muffins. Coffee.
LUNCH.
Clam Chowder.
Peach Short Cake. Tea.
DINNER
Clear Tomato Soup.
Halibut a la Flamande.
Mashed Potatoes Corn.
Cucumber Salad.
Wafers.
Peach Ice Cream.
Coffee.
Cheese.
SATURDAY.
BREAKFAST.
Fruit
Sugar and Cream.
Delmonico Potatoes.
Coffee.
LUNCH.
Curried Mutton.
Fruit. Tea.
DINNER.
Raw Oysters
i wed Chicken. Mashed Potatoes.
Savoy Cabbage
Tomato Mayonnaise.
Wafers. CfeMM,
Junket witb. Fruit.
Coffee.
N SUNDAY.
BREAKFAST.
Fruit.
Cereal Sugar and Cream.
Panned Tomatoes Oream Gravy.
Fluted Potatoes,
Cream Biscuit. Coffee.
DINNER
Mock Turtle Soup
Beef a la Mode. Mashed Potatoes.
Stuffed Egg Plant.
Escarole. French Dressing
Wafers Cheese.
Peach Ice Cream.
Coffee.
SUPPER
Salmon and Olive Salad.
Hot Raised Biscuit.
Peach Short Cake, Coffee
THE SHORT SKIRT HAS TAKEN THE
PLACE OF THE SWEEPING TRAIN
The New Skirt Clears the Pavement and Should Be a Trifle Shorter in the Back Than
in the FrontThe White Felt Hat Acceptably Filh the
Between Season Want.
At the End of Summer.
A most important point in the
economy of clothes is laying them away
for the change of season interval.
A little care bestowed at this time of
year, before the summer finery is "put
into storage," will greatly increase its
usefulness nex^ season. It is not worth
while attempting to renovate, as a pos
sible change of fashion may make still
further alteration necessary but every
thing should go into winter quarters
as clean as scrubbing and scouring can
make it.
More than one of the glove clean
ing preparations now on the market are
very useful in removing spots and dis
colorations from articles that do not
take kindly to washing with soap and
water These are applied according to
directions on the boxusually with a
bit of flannel and gentle rubbing.
Manv of the summer hats, if not com
pletely tubable, are scrubable. The
pique and linen affairs are, of course, a
case for soap and water, pure and
simple. Straw hats should be thoroly
brushed and packed into individual
boxes with tissue paper. It is not
woith while to remove the trimming un
til they are resurrected for next year.
Clothing too worn to be of further
use should be carefullv weeded out from
that which may -justify rebuilding an
other season. Rubbish overcrowds the
pressees and makes continued disorder.
Summer frocks clean and neatly
ironed will be much more encouraging
to begin work upon next year than# the
same articles in a soiled or even in a
rough-dried state.
No woman, unless she can afford to
let the dead past bury its dead in the
way of clothes, can afford to overlook
this imnortant matter of "putting
away.''
Fancies for the Fair.
I is rumored that the waist line will
be more accentuated as the season ad
vances.
Walking skirts will just touch the
ground and the jackets will be tight
fitting and long.
There have been introduced of late,
from Victorian times the low shoes that
button over at the sides.
THE VOGTTE OF PLAIDS.
To the small checks, whieh have been in vogue for some time, the plaids have succeeded at
a natural consequence Brown and white are favored combinations and the novel coat and skirt
are in these colors, the plaid relieved with white cloth braided in brown and gold soutache The
Eton is semifitting the deep belt of white suede cleverly denning the waist line. The skirt is
tucked in dart design over the hips and at the knee a flounce is shirred overlaid box panels de-
fined with braid relieving the fullness at intervals. A deep facing of brown velveteen where
the hem usually is makes the light weight cloth stand out weU around the ankles.
burnt orange is tucked in somewhere,
the effect is very smart indeed.
A Strange Fad of Certain English
Women Has Brought Snakes and
Other Reptiles Into the Drawing
rooms and BoudoirsMiss Roosevelt
Says She Never Had a Pet Snake.
Cereal.
Broiled Ham.
Popovers Miss Alice Roosevelt has denied the
story that she once wore a grass snake
as a necklace or bracelet, but if she
had done so she would only have fol
lowed the example of certain English
society women who have used the
glistening little reptiles as ornaments
more than once.
Not only do these Englishwomen like
the tiny snakes, but they have made
pets of the boa constrictors also, and
one of the most famous pets in Lon
don is the huge python which trails its
fourteen feet of mottled skin over the
boudoir of Mrs. Arthur Cadogan, Mrs.
Cadogan acquired a liking for snakes
when she was in India ,with her hus
band, and she is very fond of her pet,
who is supposed to live in a handsome
vivarium, but really spends most of
the time crawling about the room or
coiled up before the fire.
Everybody does not share Mrs. Cado
gan's fondness for snakes, and her
guests are often heard shrieking in fear
UNPLEASANT PETS OF SOCIETY WOMEN
li3&5*S''t
A fancy has displayed itself for capes
and three-quarter coats in a loud check
tweed.
A lace handkerchief makes an excel
lent jabot by folding it cornerwise and
turning the upper point so as to fall a
little above the under one.
Broadtail velvet, which is really a
crushed velvet, is one of the coming
stuffs for outer wraps.
Old-fashioned lavender silk, which
brides of a half a century ago were
wont to revel in, again comes fashion
ably forward.
Tartan tweeds are quite the latest for
autumn tailor-mades blue and green,
brown and vellow, and quiet mixtures.
Fringed bias taffeta ruffles are made
into charming flat boas for cool even
ings.
The taffeta gown is an indispensable
change from the muslins and laces of
summer. Every woman has at least one
of these dresses in her wardrobe.
The owner of even a bit of real lace
is nowadays making the most of her
possession, for scarcely any costume is
seen without some lace decoration.
A prevailing autumnal fashion will be
the closely fitted waistcoats. They are
now shown in delicately embroidered
muslins and cambrics. As the season
advances silk and brocade will be seen
in conjunction with smart little cuta
way coats.
A rich-looking belt buckle is made
of two large button molds covered with
velvet ana embroidered with beetles in
gold thread, or green and gold silk. At
the back of these molds strong hooks
and eyes are attached.
All Japanese silks and embroideries
in Japanese patterns are popular. Lit
tle sleeveless straight coats of Japan
ese embroidery are worn slipped on
aver muslin and lace gowns. Some of
those are made of a straight fold over
each shoulder, united with straps in
the back.
So many pretty, old-fashioned trim
mings are used, quillings of silk or sat
in, shirring, forming shells, covered
buttons on bands, or in the center of
ruehes, and lace ruffles, squares, saw
teeth, scallops, piped and laid over
lace or some other trimming, and pleat
ingsfine knife pleatings everywhere.
Less of the dyed lace is used.
when they aee the python crawl from
under chairs and conches. Onca it
worked its way into the stuffing of a
couch and frightened two young wom
en into hysterics by pushing ^gainst the
velvet covering until the sofa seemed
to be alive. Mrs. Cadogan ripped off
the covering to find her pet coiled
among the springs.
"You can get such a lot of fun out
of a pet snake," she laughed with little
sympathy for her frightened guests.
Lady Constance Bichardson is anoth
er woman who keeps a great boa con
strictor, and she takes the snake with
her wherever she goes. Alligators and
toads are other unpleasant pets which
society women are making much of,
and Lady Eleanor Wickham frequently
places her toads on miniature Japanese
trees as a decoration for the dinner
table, and the frightened exclamations
of her guests when the ugly creatures
hop about the table give her as much
amusement as Mrs. Cadogan obtains
from the escapades of her snake.
Mrs. Fletcher, a well-known society
leader, who resides at Alnwich Manor,
Bognor, Isle of Wight, is* a great rep
tile enthusiast. She values her collec
tion of frogs and lizards at $12,000, and
derives a large income from breeding
these creatures, whieh she ~sells to so-,
ciety women who make pets of reptiles,]
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