The Lafayette gazette. [volume], December 16, 1893, Image 1

About The Lafayette gazette. [volume] (Lafayette, La.) 1893-1921

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SlGAZETTR
y f f ' LAFAYETTR, LA., "SATURDAY, DECEMBER 16,1893. NME 1
stairmy house on
7 ,r. . wt. nalbu. 1tlen e 11
wss huge@s ipereahed em
aba 4 t ities the
r isb sle er stau.
SiV the ibd at gte "rose-tree, usheeding
Snteniag~ storm!'
the blithe leasfchaser, rejoleing in
;.gi-no arsoird for the morrow-they
. : qwuo eare. today:
. - And the thoumad things
: . Thatthe future btrings
Sma sblnk testueh as they.
'.i3~. by the household Ingle, can interpret the
#d t Ws ooehoos" through the keyhole.
. rea shadow the house enshrouds:
Ad I Moei I must quit my mountain, and go
d awnli to the vale below.
Wor my horse is chill
Ons the windy all,
the a tu mmntempests blow.
My mind is for ever drawing an Instructive
r all - lel
- temporal thiegs that perish and eternal
things that dwell
Whien billows and waves surround ma. and wa
tesr my soul o:erdow.
I deseend in hope
S rom the mountain top
To'the sheltering vale below.
I go down to the valley of silenee, where the
worldly are never met;
I know there is "balm and healing" there for
eyes that witltears are wet;
And I fan; in Its sheet seelusion, gentle solace
- foralimy-eare.
For, that valley pure.
With its shelter sure.
Is the beautiful vale of prayer.'
-Naenie Power.O'onoglhue, in Chamber's
JournaL
t riaa r MSounsna
[Co p right lIo, by
u thor i
Na beautiful
summer day not
long ago, two
handsome wom
en eat on the
terrace of one
of the many
charmingi hunting-castles with which
the mountains of Styria abound.
"Hear in mind, Dora, that Prince
Ilenatschew is a very dangerous man."
Countess Dorothea blushed crimson.
"Why. do you call him dangerous?"
"Is not your husband a little jealous
of his pretty wife?"'
- "Ah, it he only were! But he de
votes night and day to the study of po
litical and economic subjects. and has
no time for me."
"Do you mean to say that he neglects
you?"
"Not exactly; but he has so many 1
things to take up his thoughts that he
would not have time to be jealous. In
fidelity on my part would arouse his
anger, but it would not try his heart.
He is a cold and austere man, Emmy
a great'and noble man, if you will-but
like a block of ice."
"While Prince Benatschew is a ver
itable volcano."
tDora does not reply, for the subject
of their conversation appears on the
terrace where the two ladies are chat
ting
t" hope that I am not disturbing an
exchange of confidences, ladies?"
"We were speaking of you, prince."
" answered Emmy. "It was said that
you are a man of a volcanic disposi
tion."
"You must be flattering me."
Countess Dorothea has indignantly
risen. "I have said nothing of the sort,
for I know nothing of Prince Benat
schew's character. Pray, let us return
to the drawing-room; I hear Mr. Green- t
low play the prelude to his--" s
"I entreat you, conntess, stay. It is C
the 'Moonlight Serenade,' and I am f
sure we can enjoy it to better advan- to
tage here, with the real moon shining c
down upon us. What a lovely summer s]
night! Look down yonder, countess, a
and watch the effect here, from where
I am standing! Do you see the moon d
reflected in the lake, and the fountain a
transformed into a sparkling pillar of 6
silver?" o
Reluctantly Countess Dorothea -fol- is
lows the prince. This man exerts a ti
si
- at
- . w
* P"
'OOUNTESS DOROTHEK HAS IxDIOXAYTLY
mssax."
strange power over her. Emmy if "
right; he is i dangerous man. bh
"'Whrer areyou, Emmy'?" cries she, as
she: turns to where her friend had been
sitting. "~Come and watch the moon
.lght." T"
Bit Ummy has disappeared- through hi
. the .woor whih leads from. the veranda .
lia-e br.lliantly -ighted drawink.
room;and dthe two are left alone. A
S4 asitrable feeling of iawe
-eo'f Doroth~a's soul.
P epest dayis she hais coni
s aiteda tile tempter. T- ri
r..emain spellbound, held ap- LI
-*edis *r *blch Is greater than as
ae. Wt he again speak of rq
- Jeg.. .elihtttal oenei" she
oo... .A delight- g
*n daonrnaioniam
sell The man of the orld lanterprets
these symptoms correaly, and begins
to do what she has feared-or hoped,
I she does not know which-whisper a
peassionate avowal of love into her ear.
To him her silence means a yielding
to his entreaties. "You- have made me
supremely happy," he murmurs softly,
and steps aside to meet several persons
r who are at this moment approaching
from the drawing-room. Among them
is Count Tolstegg, Dorothea's husband.
Early in the morning of the follow
ing day, Count Tolstegg informs his
wife that he is called to the city on im
portant business and must leave by the
elast train that evening:
"'And the tableau in which- you are
expected to take part?"
"As the train does not leave until
nine, I will have ample time to figure
in that, since I was foolish enough to
.consent to such childish play. Our
hostess insists that mo bne but myself
can represent the character for which
she has chosen me, and it would be un
kind to spoil her pleasure."
"Then we will loave before the ball
commences?"
"We? There is no reason why you
should not remain. I will come for you
in a few days."
'"Command me to go with you, Otho-
I beg of you!"
But Count Tolstegg shrugs his shoul
ders with a smile, and makes no reply.
The guests are assembled in the prel.
ty little amateur theater, and the play
ers have gathered behind the scenes on
the stage. In the first row sites Doro
thea, and beside her Benatschew. He
has been her escort during dinner, and
has filled unnoticed her glass with
champagne as often as possible. Dora's
cheeks are flushed, and a feverish light
burns in her black eyes. Her excite
ment, however, is not caused by the
wine, but by the inward struggle of
the past few days.
"I will not!" cries conscience. "I
will-I must!",answers another voice
in her breast, as if under the ban of
some strange hypnotic power. Her
husband's departure! Has everything
conspired in "Henatschew's favor? Oh,
if Tolstegg had but spoken one word
one word of comfort and kindness
when she entreated him to take het
back with him. She would have gath
ered strength from it to resist the pas
sionate yearning that drives her into
the tempter's arms. There is but one
way out of the difficulty. She must
confess to her husband the danger with
which she is beset. Several times dur
ing that day she has been on the eve
of doing this, but when she lifter her
eyes to her husband's cold, indifferent
countenance, she relapsed into silence.
And now, now he is going from her
to leave her unguarded to the other's
wiles. "I am lost! I am lost!" moans
the unfortunate woman.
Three of the tableaux, copied from
famous works of art, have already been
presented. The next on the programme
is the one in which Count Tolstegg is
to figure. A side-door which leads to
"I AM SUPPOSED TO HAVE STABBED YOUB
LOVIER."
the stage is suddenly thrown open, and
some one enters and advances toward
Countess Dorothea. beckoning her to
follow. One of the performers has been
taken ill, and Dora is the only one who
can successfully take her place. Would
she consent? The tableau is already
arranged; there is no time to be lost. C
Dorothea gives her consent. Her
dress is soon arranged to suit the char
acter which she is to represent. They a
endeavor to show her the photograph r
of the painting from which the tableau t
is copied in which she is to figure, but in
the general confusion it has been mis
laid. Count Tolstegg is bidden to in
struct his young wife. the is ready.
The count hurries to her side. A cry d
of delight and admiration escapes
Dorothea's lips. She has never known
him to look more handsome. He t
snatches her hand and draws her on
the stage with him. The others are in
their paces. Tolstegg leads her to the
center of the stage and, bidding her to
kneel down before him, he says, with
mufmed voice: "I am supposed to have
stabbed your lover: you are to gaze
with horror upon his bleeding form.
Press one' hand to your temple-so- d
cl-ncbing the other, as Igrasp your ii
wrist. You are trembling, dear. Have
I hurt you? Forgive me; but for a mo
ment the part which I am playinl t
seemed so natural, as if I were in real- e
ity the avenger of my honor." n
"tlto-speak-would you have done ,
as he did?" asks Dorothea under her tl
breath.
"'Oh! my life, my all--T don't know a
whom I would have killed in such a
Ease Perhapbs myself!" whispers Count
Tolstegg, with suppressed emotion, as
his eyes rest lovingly upon the proe
twrate form of his young wife.
"Otho!"
' Attention !# cyies the stage manager.
The signal is given. The curtain rise .
An hour later Count Tolategg's car
riage is -on ito way tb the statidn
Leaning back inthe edshlons, ifth his u
srn around her waist, and haer head
rqpting on his breast, sits Dorothe.
She has confessed to her husbrand.
The pround, a·astere -man diaws hwi
gently to him. "Then Master Angeli
helped me toube the. 9vipr of my
_"_ taewl7 c
.i· iN
s LEARNING TO EAT POL
Aesea £ mgaast* or he thLsema Dsantyr
of the Slmdwleh Islands.
At your first meal, mays a letter from
Hawaii you inquire hungrily for poi,
S. and there is brought you a little
( wooden bowl or calabash containing a
I, queer-looking grayish sticky compound
a resembling paper-hanger's paste. You
R regard it askance, and ask for a spoon,
n but are told it is to be eaten with the
L fingers
"Why, no one could take that stuff
up in their flngers!" you gasp.
"0, yes, just see," and into a com
panion calabash your instructor dips
two fingers, and with a twirl, only ac
quired by long practice, withdraws
them loaded with the compound, which
is at once transferred to his mouth and
swallowed, his countenance assuming
meantime an expression of beatified
o epicureanism. You do not know what
i expression may have taken its abode
upon your visage, but you know your
principal sensation is one of simon
pure horror.
" "Now, you try it," says Epicurus.
Tentatively you thrust one finger into
the mess and gather up a minute dose
of the delectable viand. As you raise
it toward your mouth your nose takes
cognizance of a sour smell that har
monizes perfectly with the appearance
of the poL You close your eyes, and,
mentally breathing forth a devout
ejaculation, open your mouth and suck
the poi from your fingerr. By a sublime
effort of will-you keep your lips closed
over the mouthful, while your compan
ion looks on interestedly, evidently ex
I -pecting to hear your palate screpm with
delight. Meanwhile your imagination
is workingwith lightning speed. The
poi is cold and clammy. The poi tastes
t like stale yeast; it stings your tongue,
and an unutterable disgust possesses
your souL You are sure you are going
to choke, though you know you dare
not, and-you figuratively take yourself
I by the throat and force yourself to
swallow the compound. You can trace
1 its progress through the esophagus by
the horrified shudder that organ gives
as the mouthful passes along it; you
can hear the villi in your stomach
shriek as the frog-like lump makes its
appearance amongthem, and you think
you are going to die then and there.
"Don't you like it?" your hear some one
say. You struggle back to conscious
ness and murmur your fear that you
are not educated to such a high point
of taste.
O"O, never mind," is the consoling
reply. "You'll be so fond of it in a day
or two you can't keep house without it."
You know better than that, but you
offer no contradiction to the assertion.
But if you would leave the islands
with a conscience untainted by poi you
must hold to your resolution to ab
stain from tasting the stuff again. This
will be difficult to do. You will see all
your acquaintances dipping into their
calabashes and hear them expatiating
on the delights of poi, and you begin
to aspire to taste again. You think
about it by day and by night, and at
last you venture. You take another
step along the downward pathway.
As the poet has so touchingly described:
"You first endure, then pity, then em
brace" the calabash.
Poi is a dish that must long remain
peculiar to the Hawaiian islands-al
ways, in fact, unless some means are
contrived for preserving taro so that it
will stand export. Poi is made from
taro, a root resembling the turnip. It i
grows in the water, with a large, hand
some, green leaf, and it is almost
tasteless. There is also an upland
taro cultivated in the mountains by
the natives which has a more de
cided taste, and which, as I learned
to my cost on tasting it raw, bites the
throat like horseradish. The low taro
is the chief vegetable in the island, and
in early days constituted the native's
principal crop. When cooked it as
sumes a mottled gray and white ap
pearance very like the lava rock that
abounds every where in the islands. The
process of manufacturing the poi is
quite a lengthy one. A great hole is
dug in the ground, and into this the
taro roots are placed around piles of
hot stones. The earth is then heaped 1
over the place and the taro left to a
steam. When the taro is thoroughly
cooked, which operation often takes
several hours, the roots are dug out
again, peeled, and put into a huge stone
receptacle, in which they are pounded
to a pulp. This work is performed by
the men. It is an arduous task, and 1
on a hot day (and nearly all days are i
hot on the islands) the pounding of poi
is a scene over which it is desirable to
draw a veil. The poi pounder not only
earns his bread by the sweat of his
brow, but mixes it as well largely with r
that fluid. V
The "poe of commerce" is "now made b
by machinery. The natives, how.
ever, still make their own. When !
the mass is thoroughly beaten and '
smooth it is mixed with vwater to the
proper consistency, about like good l
thick paste, strained through a coarse
cloth, and set away for two or three
days, until it begins to ferment, when
it is ready to be eaten. It then tastes
a little like buttermilk, and is very nu- n
tritions and wholesome. The natives
eat it by the gallon. Give the average a
native a big pot of poi, half a dozen i'
raw fish, and a bottle of gin, and you h
may have the kingdom and the rest of
the earth as well. He will squat upon at
the ground, break the head off one of f.
the fish, take a bite from its raw side, I t
piek it in a mouthful of pot, and wash m,
the whole down with a swallow of gin, I
and repeat the process until all have I d
disappeared, t
Singularly enough, revolting as this Pi
sounds; the actual scenb is far from be- le
ing didgusting. I have watched a dozen ii
natives feeding thus, all dipping poi
from the same calabaqh, and seen less ir
daintyrand cleanly' table manners in tI
many a backwoods hotel in the states. b
Why should we swallow a raw oyster ti
without winking and shiver at the i
thought of raw fish is one of the mys- o
teries of aesthetice few can solve.--San vI
Francisco CalL
-Husband (listening)-'I think there or
is burglar in the house." Wdfe (ex- v
n ttedly).p
twue·-·. i"
QUICKle WITTED.
I Cool HReads Whleh Have Turned the DelL1
eats Seale of ife and Death.
m A Southern girl anxious to support
aI, herself, and to make her own in the
le world, entered the training-school for
a nurses at Bellevue hospital, New York.
id She became an expert nurse, remarka
m ble for courage and self-possession.
n, One night a patient, who had been
le hastily admitted to the wards without
in'quiry respecting her mental condi
SI tion, attempted suicide by throwing
herself from a window. This nurse,
n- by her coolness and quick wit, diverted
as her from her purpose and saved her
c- life.
rs The incident made an impression ,
h upon the mang~iers of the school.
d When they received an application from 7
g an insane asylum for nurses to be em
d ployed in the scientific care of deranged
it patients, she was highly recommended
le for the work, and was subsequently
ir promoted to the responsible position of
1- matron in one of the largest insane
hospitals in the country.
s. One of this nurse's experiences with
o insane patients disclosed her nerve and
e quickness of mind. She was attacked
e in a ward by a powerful woman, who
is had taken offense because for miscon
r- duct she had been forbidden to go with
e the other patients to the noonday meal.
L, The nurse, being alone with her, had i
t incautiously turned her back upon the t
k patient. The infuriated woman crept a
e up, and seizing the little nurse by the r
d waist, lifted her from her feet and
- spun round and round with her like a t
- top. t
h The nurse was completely in the a
t power of an uncontrollable lunatic, f
e whose excitement and frenzy were in- s
s creasing every instant. It would have t
gone hard with her if she had lost her
s presence of mind.
g What she did while she was whirling
e in the air was to take a large pin fast- r
f eing the belt of her uniform .and a
o thrust it into the woman's arm. The a
e assailant, startled by the sudden pain, i
j relaxed her grip and released her pris
Soner.
I Then the nurse faced her, and had o
her instantly under control. Looking I
a her in the eyes, she sternly ordered her o
c to go to her room and get into bed. b
The woman, completely cowed, obeyed ,
a like a child.
The same quick wit enabled a sur- c
a geon to save the life of a hospital pa- t
t tient who was undergoing a critical h
operation.
The assistants had dropped their in- p
struments, for the patient's heart had
apparently ceased to beat. "She is ce
dead," they said; "it is tseless to go on." li
The surgeon seized a pitcher of hot it
water and poured into the gaping h
wound. "Go on with your work!" he d
cried.
The circulation of blood was imme- m
diately restored by the sudden access ft
of heat. The operation was quickly vi
completed. The patient lived and was st
restored to health. tl
Often it is the simplest device which a,
turns the delicate scale of life and
death; but only the coolest head can sr
think of it in time.-Youth's Compan- ai
ion.
TOES TURNED IN. a
in
How a Distingulshed Maln Was Iemem
bered by an Admirer.
A lady who recently had the good
fortune to meet a distinguished man
and spend half an evening in his com- a
pany, was eagerly questioned after
wards by her friends i-ith regard to st
him. Her impressions were highly fa
vorable. She found him brilliant, cour
teous. kindly and agreeable.
"And how did he look?" inquired It
one friend at length, after his manners
and conversation had been fully de
scribed. pi
"lie is very good-looking-even hand- lii
some," was the reply. Then after a se
slight pause she added, pensively. "lBut di
I wish I wasn't sure that I should al- w
ways remember him sitting' with his le
feet planted rather far apart on the os
rug. and his toes turned in." to
"His toes turned in!" echoed the be
other ladies in dismay. ar
"Turned very much in," replied the ur
lady who had met him; and it is safe to
assume that not one of those who heard at
her say so, can ever again think of this so
revered literary idol independently of th
his toes. I
It is of course ridiculous to be in con- san
stant fear of ridicule, and it is con- we
temptible to pose for effect. Neverthe- fu
less, if many people realized in what 'fi
particular attitudes the memories of pr
their friends most readily recalled
them, their carriage and outward de- ca
meanor would be sensibly improved. tel
It is a trick of memory to catch and to
retain tricks of pose. People who know fu
us seldom think of us as looking our me
best,-unless our best is the way we lit
look every day, but as looking most be
natural, most familiar, most character- wl
istic- da
If a person is in the habit, when talk
ing, of nursing an elbow in each hand as
and rocking to and fro, or of rumpling p
his hair, or stirring the dimples in his w
knuckles with a forefinger, tnme memo- a
ries of his friends take in the conscious- e,
ness of the act like so many kodaks. cet
Their minds hold in remembrance the sea
absurd and trifling peculiarity, which, for
in the man's more flattering picture of
himself, he never sees at all. of
It is true that little personal tricks a
and attitudes sometimes gain a charm dec
from merely being characteristic, and ful
that an absent friend is often recalled ani
most affectionately in an attitude tal
whose very awkwardness has beuome thu
dear. Nevertheless, it is probable that ma
the friend, could he know it, would
prefer to be remembered in a position
less natural to him, but more becom- cus
ing. pea
The distinguished author who turned (ain
in his toes would doubtless rather be son
thought of with toes turned out, even brO
by an admirerardent enough to believe wh
the former position permissible. Grace, eat
like goodness, is a quality that we all w'
of us admire and should try to culti- dea
vate.-Youth's Companion. In
-"Why did everybody laugh so long Iwh
overthat. story of old Boreby's? It jas
wasan't a bit *ub-y." "They were nat
afrsaid he would tell auoer if they too
FIRESIDE FRAGMENTS.
IL. -Russian Tea.-Pare and slice fresh
juicy lemons and lay a piece in the
rt bottom of each cup; sprinkle with
te white sugar and pour hot, strong tea
>r upon it. Serve without eream.-House
k. keeper.
a- -Baked-nash.-Mix well about equal
portions finely minced cold meat of any
n kind and minced cold potato, moisten
it with milk, gravy or soup stock-never
i- with water-season with salt and pep
g per, make into a roll, put in a buttered
e, pan and bake in the oven. This, if
d properly prepared and cooked, will be
r delicious hash.-Boston Herald.
-Pie Crust.-Rub thoroughly one
n cupful of lard into two cupfuls of flour,
I. to which has been added a little salt.
n Mix with enough ice water to make a
r- soft paste, but which can be rolled out
d thinly. Do not handle more than nec
d essary, as upon that and the coldness
f of the water depends it flakiness.
f Have the filling of the pies ready be
I fore making the crust, as it should not
stand before using.-Housekeeper.
S--Omelette Souffle.-For this an
I earthen pudding dish should be uied.
d Butter it warm. Beat the yolks of two
o eggs with a tablespoonful of powdered
i sugar and half a teaspoonful of vanilla
extract. Then beat the whites of four
* eggs until stiff, and whip them lightly
into the flavored yolks. Pour the mix
e ture into the dish and bake at once in
a moderate oven from ten to twelve
e minutes. Serve immediately.
I -Braised Tongue. - Simmer the
a tongue two hours. Tie the tip to the
thick part. Brown two tablespoonfuls
e of butter, add two tablespoonfuls of
flour, pour on one quart of hot stock.
add one-half of a carrot, one-half of a
i turnip, one onion, one cut potato, one
r sprig of parsley, two bay leaves, one
stalk of celery, one tablespoonful each
i of Worcestershire and mushroom catch
up. Add to the tongue and bake one
and one-half hours. Boil sauce down
e and pour over tongue.-Good House
keeping.
-Tropical Snow.-Ten sweet oranges
pared and grated, two glasses sherry,
one cup powdered sugar, six bananas.
Peel and cut the oranges small, taking
' out the seeds, put a layer in a glass
bowl and wet with wine, then strew
with sugar, next put a layer of grated
cocoanut. slice the bananas thin and
cover the cocoanut with them; when
the dish has been filled in this order
1 heap with ooecoanut; eat soon or the
oranges will toughen.-Detroit Free
Press.
I -Cucumber Salad.-Peel and slice the
Icucumbers very thin, sprinkle with a
little salt, cover with bits of cracked
Sice. Let them remain thus half an
hour before they are wanted; then
drain, and they will be crisp and with
out any bitterness. For the dressing
mix slowly together two tablespoon
fuls salad oil with the same amount of
vinegar, and a teaspoonful each of
sugar and white pepper. Pour it over
the cucumbers just before meal time
anl serve.-Orange Judd Farmer.
-Sponge Cake.-Take one cupful of
sugar, four eggs, one cupful of flour
and one level teaspoonful of baking
powder. Beat the yolks of the eggs
and sugar together, then add the flour
in which you have put the baking pow
der. Lastly stir in the beaten whites
of the eggs. This makes one loaf.
,laked on a long shallow tin this makes
a very nice rolled jelly cake. I have
used this recipe often and like it, both
for jelly cake and sponge cake. It
should be baked quickly.-Prairie Far
mer.
SUMMER FANCY WORK.
It Slay Save Time In Future as Well as
Kill It Now.
On all the porches and out on the
piers one sees pretty hands engaged in
light work which in some cases never
sees the light after it is made to dc
duty as a killer of time during the
warm weather. Many an utterly worth
less bit is wrought out in endless stitch
es, which might have been put to bet
ter service if only a little thought had
been exercised in the selection of the
article or articles that pass muster
under the head of fancy work.
A few hints may not come amiss even
at this late date. Instead of starting
something more than usually elaborate
that will in all probability never be
finished, point the needle toward some
smaller and less discouraging bit of
work that can form a part of the great
fund of Christmas gifts that one never
finds time to.prepare during the rush
preceding the popular holiday.
In the list of articles that are easy to
carry about and yet are worthy the at
tention bestowed upon them are fine
towels that can be made more beauti
ful by drawn work or embroidered with
monograms either in wash silks or
linen thread. Even one of these would
be rarely appreciated by a housekeeper
who dotes on .dding to her linen closet
dainty eteeteras of all sorts.
Next to towels, in the order of their
actual merit, are all the pretty ap
pointments for the table, from the
wine glass and butter-plate doilies up
to the largest bit of its kind-the cen
ter scarf. The smaller pieces are, how- a
ever, the handiest to carry about and P
certainly a dozen doilies or initialed a
serviettes are no mean present, either s
for oneself or for one's friend.
Bureau covers, or dainty little pieces
of drawn wvork for the tops of pin
cushions, or to be put td the hundred
and one uses a woman intuitivelv un
derstands, all are sensible and delight- t
ful bits of work to occupy the hands
and the time with, and will more cer
tainly be finished as to one's satisfaction
than if more pretentious efforts aee Ii
made.--Chicago Times.
Two strange Death Cstemas.
In some parts of England a queer
custom is still in vogue, which is re
peated whenever a death occurs. It is
called the "bite of sin," and whenever
some one in a house dies a piece of
bread is laid on the breastof the corpse
which some stroller-by is persuaded to h
eat for a good sum of money. In this
way it is believed that the sins of the a
dead are transferred tothe living, who
in turn can shove them off together
with his own by a similar ceremony
when his life comes to an end. On the
Sandwich Islands the widows have the
names of their departed husbands tat. -l
toced on their to~nu.~-V-· m.Iwd ~Sre
b WOMAN AND HOME.
he PRETTY LITTLE.. OLOAK.
th
ea rew to m]ake an Artstle Ularment fe
3m a Girl--The I ateriea Usaed by toe I1
venter or This Charmlan Desiam Was a
ta worm-Ot Dese of Considerable Am
tigatty.
en Economy does not necessarily sacri
e. flee daintiness and beauty to useful
,pr ness. Some of the prettiest dresses
ed imaginable are "made over" dresses,
if and the number of bewitching little
be garments our grown-up clothes are
capable of being turned into for the
me tiny folks is legion.
ir, The little cloak illustrated here is
a one of the ."made-overs," and I am
ut quite sure no prettier need be asked
,c- for to put a little four-year-old maiden
as into. It is very simple, but I was con
as- verted to the doctrine of simplicity for
' children long ago.
ot The materials for the little cloak
n were-well, a worn-out dress belong
d Ing to a former generation! To be
sure, the worn-outness was not uni
ved ersal-only the sleeves really. So the
ed little coat has all the wear of new
goods in it. The body is dark blue
r plaied off with lines of gold and red,
ly the sleeves of plain blue to match the
' ground-work of the plaid, and the
cuffs and yoke of blue velvet. Blue
ve ribbons tie under a little round chin.
However, the material is immaterial!
Colors and goods may vary to suit a
body's taste-and worn-out dresses!
of
Ic,
a
ie
:h
re
e
g I
ARTISTIC LITTLa CLOAK.
a Or goods fresh from the counter may
d be treated acceptably in just this
n fashion.
n The pattern in this case was adapted t
-turned "wrong side foremost"-from I
a round-yoke French Mother Hubbard.
:- The little yoke may be either round or t
f square-the little illustration shows a t
1 happy medium. The cloak is plaited c
r instead of gathered to the yoke, with
e only a narrow heading, and the plaits a
are side-plaits running each way from v
f a broad double box-plait in the center a
r of the back and from the.opening in i
1 front. The sleeves are very full and
a plaited into the arm-size rather than
r gathered, and plaited, too, into the vel- ,
- vet cuffs. Two long strips of material t
s (lined heavily with "stiff'ning") are p
plaited into a stiff little frill that
s stands upright on either shoulder. r
e These epaulets are graduated in width, li
1 from quite broad in the center to very c
t narrow where they merge into the arm- tl
size altogether on either side. Long o
ribbons tie at the throat, and a hook n
and loop fasten the yoke at its lower 9
end. And there you have the little coat
complete! Could it be simpler or more
childish? In my own eyes it is very
e dainty and charming.-Annie Hamil- ii
ton Donnell. in Country Gentleman.
FASHIONABLE CHAIRS. a
Chippendale and Sheraton Styles Are the d
Most Popular. tl
At a recent sale of old furniture the g
most eagerly sought-for specimens s
were noticeably the rather gaudy Em- o
pire styles, gilt chairs, onyx tables and ti
"whatnots," ormolu cabinets, mirrors, ti
etc. Next in public estimation evi- e,
dently came specimens of Chippendale's o1
tl
w
hi
was quite noticeable that the Gothic or
wood-carving so much admired a dee- or
ade ago had gone off in the ever-fickle wi
public estimation, as there seemed ab- n
solutely no sale for the many beautiful 'k
specimens which were shown. As a ha
guide as to what is fashionable in
chairs nowadays, we give a sketch of
three-an Empire, a Chippendale and a
Sheraton- all perfect specimens of tb
their kind.
The Night to Lie Singaleal
It has hitherto been the law in Japan
that is a woman was not married by a
eertain age the authorities picked out t
a man and compelled him to marry
her. The mikado has just abandoned
this usage. In luture Japanese women
will be allowed to live and die maids, do
as in European countries. th
The Inlmesee of Womn, ei
"No man ever lived a right life who ha
has not been chastened by a wom- t
an's love, strengthened by her courange
and guided by her discretion."-John -
Ruskin. *
- Thse Wrong Plane.
Poet-I have a poem here to sell
Editor (harshly)-Euse .me, but in
this i~ not a junk shop. Around the
isOrpe plEease)rontrjit Wigs 11w.
Tllr adaeeoor Paau .4.
FAMILY SCRAP BAG.*
Arvra knives have been eleaoedt
may be brilliantly polished with e
coal powder.
IN making coffee the broraer
bottom and the smaller the toioOf t
" vessel in which you prepare it the ~te
ter the coffee will be.
.i- SIK handkerchiefs should be washeA r
. in a suds, made with castile soap aixl:
as tepid water. They should never be
wrung out, but just shaken and ironed:
[ with a cool iron.
TEnna is nothing better for cleanIln7"
copper kettles than powdered b.-'
e and soap. Wet a coarse cloth inl
water, soap it well, and apriWd*le
is it the powdered borax. -..
n Wnax stewing fruit, or, in fact,wbhew:
d cooking anything in an open vessel d
n not leave the spoon in if you swlasi*
have it boil quickly. The spoon c*
ries a portion of the heat off into thie:
air.
k  Monday proves a stormy day the
white clothes, after washing,. should-"'
f- be put into clean water and wait.fotr y
e the hanging untiL fair weather. Callz
- coos and flannels should not be washed.
e until fair weather.
W BRAss ornaments should be first
be washed with a strong lye made of
rock-alum, in the proportion of one -
Sounce of alum to a pint of water. ,
e When dry rub with leather and fine s
° tripoli. This will make the brass brill- r
L iant.
THns is one of those simple things .
a which few people know of. If you are
in a Pullman car get a pillow from the- .'
porter, put it on your. lap and plae -
your writing materials on it. The
elasticity of the pillow will insure
smoothness. Where a pillow canne
be obtained use a shasvl or coat.
A COFFPPEE pot with a strainer of
aluminum that will not rust nor cor
rode, a bread-knife with the cutting .,
edge in reflex curves, that is warranted.
not to crumble nor crush warm or
very light bread, and liquid 'hoeolate
in pound cans, ready for use in layer • , 
cake, are some of the new conveniences .
offered by the stores.
SoME women unwisely try toenhancg
the brilliancy of thier eyes by expos
ing them to an air slightly impreg
nated with a powerful .acid or rub
over each eye a tiny quantity of bella
donna ointment. This artifielal dilar
tion has again and again been the
means of injuring the sight. Plenty of
sleep and good digestion are the best
cosmetics for the eye.
HOUSEHOLD NOTES.
P oum stone is one of the best
things to use in removing stains of any
kind from the hands.
GOLD and silver jewelry may be
thoroughly cleaned by a strong solu
tion of ammonia-a teaspoonful to a
cup of water.
RL'usiG all sorts of vessels and uten
siles with charcoal powder is a good
way to rid them of old smells that
seem to defy the sand and water scour
ing.
AN apple poultice is said to be s .
good a thing for sore eyes that it is
used regularly in French hospitals,
but any poultice is dangerousforanon
professional to apply to the eye.
DrRT on a wall paper can be most
readily removed by rubbing over it
lightly a lump of dough made of the
coarsest flour, and but little stiffer
than for a pudding. Stale bread is
often used for this purpose, but it is
not so valuable as the dough, as the
latter leaves no crumbs.
The Training of Girls.
The foundation of society rests o
its homes. The success of our homes
rests on the wives. Therefore, first of
all, teach our girls how to be success
ful wives. Begin in their infancy to
develop their characters. Teach them
that, jealousy is an immorality, and
gossip a vice. Train them to keep the
smallest promise as sacredly as an
oath, and to speak of people only as
they would speak to them. Teach
them to look for the best quality in
everyone they meet, and to notice
other people's faults only to avoid
them. Train them to do small things
well and to delight in helping others,
and instill constantly into their minds .
the necessity for sacrifiqe for others'
pleasure as a means of soul develop
ment. Once given a firm foundation "4
of character like this, which the poor
est as well as the richest can give to
their girls, and no matter what neces
sity arises, they will be able to-rise -
above it--Womankind.
To Wash the Hatr.
Por washing the hair, particularly
such as is inclined to be oily, nothing .
is better than the common hard soap
of the kitchen. A woman who has
used it frequently herself and seen..its
benefits tested in other cases pre
scribes it with strong falth. "Make a
strong suds," she says, "'rub it quickly
on the hair and wash it off again, at
once. After that any scented soap or
wash may be used in the way of an ordi
nary shampoo." An English maid,wh is
'amed for the care of her mistre
hair, may be taken in further testi-l
mony of the same article, as the only
wash she uses is soapsuds thickened,
with a teaspoonful of glycerin had
the white of an egg. Undobedl"
women waste money in expensivi b haIr
beautifiers and preservers. Simple'i
means right to one's hand are just "ns
effeetive. The pnlp of a lemo6n, for h,
stanoo, rubbed on the roots of the hlar
will stop ordinary cases of fellng oth
Suash Pie WlUaet s u .
Bake the squash in the- ~s
done, semove with a spoon tads
through a colander. nFor nept
eight tablespoonfuls of the
half a cap of sugar and out j·iijs
third eaup of bolling ,millkfh rPdii
milk. 4ibwly ovej the squash,..
rapldly ef4uib~ie, to make h
lure light. flake-in band eimi '