OCR Interpretation

Daily inter mountain. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1881-1901, October 14, 1899, Image 12

Image and text provided by Montana Historical Society; Helena, MT

Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn85053057/1899-10-14/ed-1/seq-12/

What is OCR?

Thumbnail for 12

New York, Oct. in.— The newest fad in
house decoration calls for the use of a
great deal of deep, oriental red—a color
which has the double advantage of set
ting off evening dress much more bril
liantly than the white and gold of recent
seasons, and of according with the desire
of many hostesses to make the t
in which the afternoon bevorage is serv
ed. warm and cosy and, to a greater or
less extent, Eastern.
The practice of setting out conspicu
ou si y in some portion of the reception j
room for no use of old crockery, in- j
tended for no use but posing as a tea j
service. has been pretty definitely aband- !
oned. 'Instead, those houses which have ;
not the English "tea-room'' have added to
themselves, in library or boudoir, a tea ;
corner, whose couches, pillows, rugs and j
hangings—supplemented or not by East- i
orn lamps and tabourets—Invite repost 1 j
and Oriental languor.
Here the tea is brewed for callers, and
here women who like experiment offer
sometimes Turkish coffee pulv rizid with
an antique handmill—too rough work
this, though, for tender fingers. Or they
rally with the harem tea of Morocco -
over sweetened and giving th ■ tang of
ii.l in
fresh lime juice, instead of lemoi
honest, old-time cream and sug n
ever, is again the stand-by of r :
deserted it temporarily for fa's ■
The tea gown, as donned at tin
Ing hi ur. takes its tone in of
soft, rich materials, dusky or g
from such surroundings. Kasten
and mousselines, gold toned embn
clinging silks and deep-piled vrf
its constituents; and only in its
princess shape—Oriental robes a
—does it betray its western origin.
One little woman of my aco.uaintam
■e short
pi s ;
les, I
y '/>
\ Ä
;l> silic
has what she calls "tea gown days,"
when either the weather or her moods
disincline her to exertion, and when the
reading or scribbling which occupy her
until dinner are done in the tea corner,
and in a robe—this present autumn— of
pale mauve crepe de chine, verging on
rose. The sybaritic lady is pretty, de
[spite the fact that her hair is of so pale
a blonde and her complexion so delicate
as to suggest that she would fade in the
wash; and the colors she has chosen arc
j precisely those which give most life to
j her somewhat fragile charm,
j Her mauve-rose robe is cut as a grace
! ful princess, long, close-fitting and with
; out decoration, except that its high Med
[ici collar and its open fronts are edged
; with a narrow niching of slightly dark
j er chiffon. This dainty garment, nar-j
i row in the back as a street dress, opens i
j oil a soft, not very full fr nt of the same
crepe, confined at the waist by a broad,
folded band, which disappears under the
princess dress, so that the beautiful un
derarm curve is unbroken. Its sleeves
are tight fitting to the elbows, where
they are scalloped and chiffon-lined and
allow the escape of mousseline frills part
ly covering the hands. I
When this gown d s not suit her j
fancy, she dons one almost equally effec
tive, of soft, biack satin, over which
bangs—right away from the shoulders at
tin 1 back—a long train of black chiffon,
lightly embroidered with a squirming de
sign of black spangles. The loose effect
; of the transparent train is repeated in
I front, where the filmy c hiffon hangs from
I the bust fi on a deep yoke of cream lace
traced with black chenille. All the hem
of this cobwebby robe is lightly weighted
with long black silk fringe. The sleeves
are of cream lace, and the black seems to
be slipping off the creamy (lace) should
ers. Through the shadowy gown, the
slim, pretty figure in its tight satin bodice
is daintily defined.
Stately tea robes have been made this
autumn of the new ruby velvet, w hose
trailing folds are enhanced by embroid
ery of gold bullion thread and rubies and
by fringes of bullion and chenille. And
of black velvet set off with lace motifs in
sprawling flower patterns, sunk deep in
the rich pile. And of magnificent gray
velvet cut up in points from the bottom
to show Brussels lace flounces and lem
on-tinted crepe painted with forget-me
not. And of gleaming water-green panne
and shoulder scarf and under-robe of
pink chiffon. And of a hundred other
things. But tea coats of panne are more
novel than any of these and more
A tea coat lately made—for ^export—
for an American woman living in I^im
don was of white panne patterrÉnl .wra a
blurred design of roses. ClBe-fitwng
and short in the back, it had l|n fjffit
narrow triangular basques and fifen
narrower revers, whose deep, triangular
points came to the waist line. Tts st®id
ing collar flared into a point ongeach ®de
of the throat, and left a pointed-opening
in front, whose V was define<t;-by ihe
drapings of the fine, lightly pBtterued
lace vest, which, blousing siigjitly. $as
caught at the waist by a sashl of bljàek
chiffon. But the charm, the dtjqinoflon
of the unique garment was foiled inAp
plications of black Chantilly, w^tk'h S»ve
animation to revers, collar and wlîite
chiffon sleeves. '
The skirt sent to accompanyt^his -coat
was of white satin, which— aftër -the
English fashion—has largely replaced
black for such purposes and to accom
pany theater waists, at least among
those who can afford the more easily
soiled material.
Matinees for boudoir wear show the
daintiest possible combinations of lace,
silk and lawn. The kimono-like gar
ments introduced during the summer, of
Japanese blue-and-white crepe or of Jap
anese challies in cream color and pink
with broad pink facings, have been suc
ceeded by more Frenchy, ruffled sacques;
for example of lichen-green silk with
Fauntleroy collar of lace and lawn.
Petticoats for wear with dainty negli
gee are, like those for evening wear, of
taffeta silk with a billowy knee bounce
of criffon, on which are sewn small
lapping' chiffon ruffles. These in
turn are fluted with the tiniest meltings
of the same fairy-like material, thus
giving the softest, most cloudy, yielding
mass about the ankles.
Above underskirts come topskirts. and
above these comes the universal fancy
waist, which this winter is to be of lace
for evening and of something much yok
ed and collared with lace for daytime.
More than ever are waists made to hook
up in the back, when designed for the
owners of long arms and supple figures,
and the chief novelty is the velvet waist
with its waist scarf of fringed silk or 1
At a stupid play last evening I made
mental notes of a far from stupid thea
°' e î- i
le j
i an
I the
ter toilet, one item of which was a skirt
of a..me silky woolen material, possibly
serge. The color was silver gray, and
the skirt was made long, long. long.
trimmed about with silver hand embroid
ery: its folds were clinging and trailing. I
The velvet waist in the same silvery i
tint was stitched so as to look as if cord
ed a la bayadere. The tight, gathered
sleeves were of lemon-colored crepe, the
yoke was cream-toned lace, and there
was a girdle of silver bullion fringe. In
her hair the small, bright-cheeked, gold
enhaired wearer had placed two fluffy
balls of black crepe, which were pinned
just to one side of the high-piled tresses.
i si
Another costume, about whose beauty j
there might ho room for more than • ne ,
opinion shaded off from the waist down- j
wards and upwards, from black to tur
quoise. Tills effect had been brought
about by an ingenious adjustment of
black chiffon in single, double and triple
layers, mounted, as the shading demand
ed. over black or blue silk. The various
gradations were worked in with one an
other by means of waved lines of narrow
biack velvet ribbon. Black trille, this
tle-down puffs were worn in the hair.
The stupidity of the play was made
the more distressful by the strut from
my neighbor, a well-dressed ex-beauty,
who appeared to be the center of a battle
between sachet powder in excessive
quant Lies and liquid ifume, each si dy
ing for what i am sorely tempted to • ill
a scciit-dency. Just as women gradually
get color-blind as far as the employa: nt
of ronge is concerned, and keep increas
ing th quantity, until they look like auc
! tion room daubs of paintings, so lovers of
j perfume apparently become Insensible to
the amount of scent they are employing.
The pity was the greater In the case of
my neighbor whose theater bodice of daf
fodil satin drew on her many admiring
eyes. Worn, in spite of recent edict,
with a b lack satin skirt, this glowing
waist was trimmed elaborately with
fucked white chiffon and narrow yellow
velvet ribbon; tiny chiffon tucks being
carried up the back in highly original
fashion. The tucked chiffon sleeves were
draped about the shoulders with white
lisse daintily embroidered. Her large
black glaize fan was painted with yellow
Silk waists and shirts for day wear
are made as a rule quite simply, with
tucks or cordings for trimming. A jack
et and skirt costume, comprising, say a
dark or plaid skirt, with coat of Oxford
gray and shirt of sealing wax red, makes
a most desirable early winter outfit.
Fancy flannel shirts will be greatly
worn throughout t he winter, smartly
coni pie ted with satin or velvet cuffs,
stock cravat. The green shirt with plaid
skirt and green leather belt has come to
be so popular as to nea' - its decline for
use among the golfing clans.
Children's plaids are even larger and
more gorgeous than those appropriated
by grown-ups; and, when a small girl
apes the Scot, her smaller brother, is
pretty sure to he discovered strutting
about in Highland suit with sporan and
kilts, these last, however, of plain Irish
suiting, like tlie mannish coat and vest.
Winter kilts do not expose the knees but
are worn over gray stockinette tights and
golf stockings. Such a costume is prop
erly completed by Scotch cap and calf
skin low shoes.
New York Sun: Old attaches of the
United States senate like to tell stories of
the palmy days of Senators Pomeroy.
"Old Pom," of Kansas, Zach Chandler, of
Michigan, and Nesmith of Oregon.
Chandler was more of a practical joker
than a story teller. Roscoe Conkling. be
ing a much younger man and in almost
constant training, subjected Chandler to
some severe drubbings in their friendly
bouts with the gloves. Once Chandler in
vited Conkling to dine with him. and at
table he was introduced to a mild-man
tiered, well-built man who seemed to be
i somewhat embarrassed by his environ
j ment, and ventured not a word beyond
! the most commonplace expressions.
! Conkling concluded that the stranger
[was a backwoods constituent, and be
yond ths pptmmut vivU'Uos. ceased to ad
! dress him. After Jiuniv they repaired to
! the billiard room, and presently old Zaeli
j and Conkling, as usual, put on the mit
; lens. Conkling was in high spirits and
i seemed to enjoy himself immensely in
: knocking his old friend all around the
] room.
I Chandler soon cried enough, and inti
mated that his other guest might be dis
[ posed to join Conkling in a bout. The
I stranger jumped at the suggestion and
; donned the gloves. Some awkwardness
I was shown by the newcomer, although he
j seemed quite spry upon his feet. Conk
j ling caught him a hea'vy blow on the
I chest which staggered him, followed by
i an uppercut that missed its purpose, and
he caught in return a blow on a point of
I the chin that landed him fiat on his back. |
1 Throwing back his curls, he was up in !
an instant and rushed on his antagonist, j
Full of fire and indignation, intending to j
give him a settler. Instead, he was turn
ed upside down by a left-hand blow on I
the neck that came with triphammer !
force. As he slowly raised himself, he
caught sight of his host doubled up with !
of the room. Without saying a word he j
laughter, rolling on a settee in the corner i
removed the gloves and stalked out of j
the bouse. At a dinner party next night. I
i Chandler related how he had engaged Jem
Mace, the champion heavy-weight pugil
I Pre q t o them,
i "What is it
ist of England, then exhibiting in this
country, to meet his friend Conkling, and
the result of t he interview. For a few
days Conkling was boiling mad, but the
fuii of the situation was too much, and
he gave in and joined in the laugh.
Senator Pomeroy used to tell of a local
preacher in Kansas who had forced him
S"1 fupon the stump after Lincoln's sec
ond nomination and who demanded rec
ognition of the party for his services
during the campaign. He said he would
like to be sent as minister plenipoten
tiary to England or France, and when
told that it was impossible, i nsisted on
being appointed consul to Liverpool.
Finding that the "powers that be" con
i si derod that equally preposterous, he was
quite offended at what he considered a
lack of appreciation of his services in a
state that nothing could have turned
against the republicans. Finally. Sena
tor Pomeroy said to him: "I'm going to
Washington in about two weeks—think
the matter over, and if you should light
on something in reason, I'll aid you in
getting it." In ten days he called on the
senator again. Ids head still away up in
the clouds, and being assured of the im
possibility of getting what he thought
was about his due, said:
"Senator, can't you think of some place
that would suit me?"
"Yes." said Pomeroy, "I've thought of
a place that would suit you and that you
would suit, and that there is a possibility
of getting for you. It's an Indian
"An Indian Agency! What's that?"
queried the preacher.
"Well, you arc to look after the welfare
of our red brothers and see that their
supplies are properly and honestly deliv
"Fifteen hundred dollars and perqui
sites," returned the senator.
"Perquisites—what perquisites?"
"Well, you sec. my friend, the govern
ment contracts for so many herd of beef
cattle averaging about so many hundred
pounds. Now. in delivering these cattle,
they are counted while being driven into
an inclosure, and if a yearling should
j happen to slip in now and then, you an
ne , not to make too much fuss about it. and
j there you will find your perquisites.
Think It over."
"I'll take it." said the reverend gentle
man. "I've already thought it over, and |
do you know, senator, I think veal is a |
blamed site better than beef for Indians, j
anyway." '
Nesmith of Oregon had never been at!
the capital until after his election as i
Si nator, and of course he was much im- ,
m essed by his new surroundings. He j
was sworn in alone. Doing escorted to the
vice president's desk by a senator from
Pennsylvania, and the scene filled him j
with awe. Some months later, when he j
had grown familiar with fellow senators
and surroundings, and has been found
to be the most companionable of men. he
was asked as to his feelings when he first
entered the senate chamber. He replied
that when he walked down the aisle to
take tin oath and viewed the white and
venerable beads on either side of him, his
heart jumped to his throat and he could
This beautiful evening dress was sketched at the house of one of the most
fashionable women in Paris recently, on the occasion of a dinner dance, which is
a big formal dinner followed by dancing. The skirt is made of the new Pyren
ncse silk, very thin and quite like lace. The overdress is dotted lace bordered
with garniture royale and the bodice is of the garniture with vest of silk. Im
mensely effective is the damson red velvet which forms a corsage decoration
and which matches the immense red feather fan carried by the young woman.
hardly refrain from saying aloud, Nes
mith, how the devil did you ever get
here?" Well," said a eolleage, no\\
that you have been with us six months
and are no longer a stranger what aie
your feelings as you look o\ei the august
"Well. ' replied Xesnnth,
the measure of each I look on the old
bald pates by which I am hedgedjn, and
involuntarily say
'now that I've
chance to meet you all and take
_ ................ to myself, 'Nesmith,
how the devil did they ever got here !'
Indianapolis Sentinel: Mention of the
fact that Senator David Turpie was the
last of the "old guard" to retire from pub
lic life has revived many interesting
stories of the old days in public history
when Senator Turpie was in the senate
serving his first term with senators who
had been the contemporaries of Play and
Webster. In
One of the most interesting of these
stories is an incident connected with the
only time Henry Play ever made a speech
in Indiana. He had touched upon the
river towns once or twice, but never did
lie visit the state for the purpose of mak
ing a political speech but once. This was
in the early forties, and ho came to Rich
mond to speak. It was then as now the
center of a Quaker population, and the
fact that Mr. Play was a large owner of
slaves was taken up ancf used against
him. An immense crowd was present,
and just before Mr. Play arose to speak
Mr. Mendenhall, a prominent resident of
Richmond, handed him a petition signed
by 3,000 names urging him to liberate his
slaves. Mr. Play looked over the peti
tion carefully, arose amid intense silence
and said: j
"Ladies and Gentlemen—Before begin
! ning my address I would like to refer to
a petition I have in my hand which lias
been handed to me by Mr. Mendenhall. 1
have, it is true, 78 negro servants. Of
these perhaps 30 are able-bodied workers. :
The remainder are too feeble to engage
in the arduous work required on a plan
tation. These thirty are taking care of
tho rest.
"I ami asked to liberate my servants
and send them to the north as f ree per
sons. I agree to this proposition on one
condition. These servants of mine have
been with me all their lives, and are not
only my servants but my friends. Were
1 to send them from their homes on my
plantation 1 would have to, be thoroughly
satisfied that they will be as well taken
care of as they are now. I must be sat
isiled that those of them who are aide to
work are secured regular employment as
now, and that those who are not able to
work are insured comfortable homes for
the remainder of t he.ir days. If you. Mr.
Mendenhall, will insure this and will fur
nish me with a just and sufficient bond
that this will be done, I consent to the
"But, Mr. Mendenhall I am certain as
you are that you would not be abl#- to do
this. I therefore ask you to spend your
energies in relieving the distress and
want of the widows and orphans f\nd of
the aged and infirm or your own commu
nity: that you devote your attention to
this benevolent work: that you make this
your business and that you attend to it.
1 will attend to mine in the same lines
among those dependent upon me."
It is said by one .who heard this speech
that before Mr. Clay had concluded 1rs
remarks a large part of tlie audience was
tears and the petition was never heard
of agaifi.
Senator Turpie was In the senate with
Henry S. Lane, ol Indiana. Mr. Lane
was a veteran of the Mexican war, and
while one of the most brilliant stump
speakers the state had produced, he never
made a speech in the senate. In fact it is
recalled that the only speech he ever
made in or near Washington was under
the most unique circumstances.
When the battle of Bull Run was
fought both branches of congress had ad
journed for a clay or two, and many of
the members of both branches drove out
to witness the battle. In fact, so close
did some of the members of congress get
that one member was captured by the
confederates after the rout began.
History has told of the result of the
battle. Senator Lane had driven out in
a buggy and with a field glass was
watching the battle from a distance.
When the union forces began to slowly
give way and the mad retreat began.
Senator Lane had left his buggy by tlie
side of the country road and was stand
ing on a stump in the center of the road,
which made a sharp turn to avoid the
This brought the senator almost
In the middle of the road. For an hour or
more lie stood in the middle of the road
on the stump, searching with his glass
and eye practiced in the Mexican war
the operations of the troops. When the
retreat; began stragglers began to file
past. Men without their .arms, some
without hats or coats, their hair stream
ing in the wind. Then small detach
ments, t he remains of whole companies,
began to hurry by, all bearing indisputa
ble evidence of the true condition of af
fairs. The army was in a mad flight.
The distressing scone moved Senator
Lane greatly. He determined to do what
he could to stop the fight and reorganize
the men. He began addressing the men
and urging them by their love of country,
by their love of honor and manhood, to
stop and form for battle. His white hair
j was blown about his face and never was
man more earnest or eloquent. Many of
the infantrymen did stop and gathered
about the aged orator. Things seemed
hopeful thait a united stand might be
At this instant there came up the road
in wild flight a troop of cavalry with
horses white with sweat and the men
urging them on. Senator Lane stood still,
although the crowd around hint scatter
ed to prevent being run over.
"Look out, old man, or you will get run
over." cried several, and one or two tried
to pull him out of the way.
Senator Lane refused to move, and, as
the cavalry swept up, began addressing
the troopers. One or two seemed i nclin
ed to stop, but one burly horseman i n ad
vance shouted: "Get out of the way. old
man, or we will run you down." One
horse was ridden directly at the aged
senator, but shied at the stump and the
senator's life was probably saved. As ir
was he was knocked from the stump and
'two of the infantrymen pulled him to the
side of the road. He did not attempt to
speak again and the rout went on.
"She's the salt of the earth and a pillar
of society," declared the husband, who
admired her.
"So she's Lot's wife,' 'snapped his bet
ter Half, who envied her."—Detroit Frei
Washington Star: "I am told that you
have a great many friends."
"Oh, I don't know," answered the cynic
in plaid clothes: "it all depends with me.
the-name as with other people, on wheth
er I'm trying to borrow or willing to

xml | txt