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Red Robe By STANLEY J. WEYMAN (Copyright, 1894, by Stanley Wejman.) A E VII.—CONTINUKD. "M. de Barthe she said, in a trem bling voice, which told me that the vic tory was won "Is there nothing else? Ha-ve vou no other penance for me?" "None, Mademoiselle." She had drawn the shawl over her head and I no longer saw her face "That is all you ask?" she murmured "Tnat is all I ask—now," I an swered "It is granted," she said slowly and firmly. "Forgive me if I seem to speak lightly—if I seem to make little of your generosity or my shame but I can say no more now. I am so deep in trouble and so gnawed by terror that—I can not feel anything much to-night, either il-anie or gratitude. I am in a dream: ud grant it may pass as a dream! We sue sunk In trouble. But for you ana .what you have done, M. de Barthe—I she paused and I heard her fight ing with the sobs which choked her— "forgive me I am overwrought !And my my feet are cold," she added suddenly and irrelevantly. ""Will ou fake me home'" 'Ah, Mademoiselle," I cried re morsefully, "I have b^en a beast! You are barefoot and I ha\e kept you heio "II is nothing" she said in a voice v/lu thrilled me "My heart is warm, Monsieur—thanks to you It is many hours since it has been as warm Sha stepped out of the shadow as she spoke- and there, the thing was done. As I had planned, so it had come about Once raoie I was ciOt,sing the meadow in the dark to be received at Coche foret a welcome guest The frogs croaked in the pool and a bat swooped round us in cncles and, surely never —nev°r I thought, with a kind of exultation in my breast—had man been placed in a stranger position Somewhere in the black wood be hind us—probably in the outskirts of the village—lurked de Cocheforet. In the great house before us, outlined by a score of lighted windows, were the soldiers come from Auch to take him Between the two, moving side by side in the darkness, in a silence Jfcrhich each found to be eloquent, were mademoiselle and I: she who knew so touch, I who knew all—all but one Ut ile thing' We reached the house and I sug gested that she should steal in first by the way she had come out, and that I should wait a little and knock at the door when she had had time to explain •natters to Clon "They do not let me *ee Clon," she answered slowl\ "Then jour woman must tell him," I rejoined "Or he may say something and betray me "They will not let our woman come lo us "What?" I cried, astonished. "But fchis is infamous You are not pris oners'" Mademoiselle laughed harshly. "Are we not' Well, I suppose not for if we wanted company, Captain Larolle said he would be delighted to see us —in the parlor "He has taken your parlor?" I said. "He and his lieutenants sit there. But I suppose we should be thankful," she added bitterly. "We have still our bed-rooms left to us "Very well," I said. "Then I must deal with Clon as I can But I still nave a favor to ask, Mademoiselle. It Is only that you and your sister will descend to-morrow at your usual time. —in the parlor." "I would rather not," she said,' pausing and speaking in a troubled voice "Are you afraid?" "No Monsieur, I am not afraid," she answered proudly "But—" "You will come?" I said. She sighed before she spoke At length, "Yes, I will come—if you wish It," she answered and the next mo ment she was gone round the corner of the house, while I laughed to think of the excellent watch these gallant gentlemen were keeping de Coch eforet might have been with her In the garden, might have talked with her as I had talked, might have entered the house even, and passed under their noses scot-free But that is the way of soldiers. They are always ready for the enemy, with drums beating and flags flying—at ten o'clock in the morn ing But he does not always come at that hour I waited a little and then I groped my way to the door and knocked on It with the hilt of my sword The dogs began to bark at the back and the chorus of a drinking song, which came fitfully from the east wing, ceased altogether. An inner door opened and an angry voice, apparently an of ficer's, began to rate some one for not coming. Another moment and a clam or of voices and footsteps seemed to pour into the hall and fill it. I heard the bar jerked away, the door was Hung open, and in a twinkling a lan thorn, behind which a dozen flushed visages were dimly seen, was thrust Into my face. "Why, who the fiend is this?" cried one, glaring at me in astonishment "Morbleu! It Is the man!" another shrieked "Seize him!" In a moment half a dozen hands were laid on my shoulders, but I bowed politely "The officer, my friends," I said, "M. le Captaine La rolle. Where is he?" "Diable! but who are you first?" the lanthorn-bearer retorted bluntly. He was a tall, lanky sergeant, with a sin ister face. "Well, I am not M. de Cocheforet," I replied "and that must satisfy you, my man. For the rest, if you do not fetch Captain Larolle at once and ad mit me, you will find the consequences Inconvenient." "Ho! ho!" hP said, with a sneer "You can crow, It seems. Well, come In." They made way and I walked into the hall, keeping my hat on. On the great hearth a fire had bean kindled, but it had gone out. Three or four earbwe stood against one wall and ....Jr.-.i irT, I raised the latch and went in. At a table in front of the hearth, half cov ered with glasses and bottles, sat two men playing hazard. The dice rang sharply as I entered and he who had just thrown kept the box over them while he turned, scowling, to see who came m. He waa a fair haired, blonde man, large-framed and florid. He had put off his cuirass and boots and his doublet showed frayed and stained where the armour had pressed on it. But otherwise he was in the extreme of last year'3 fashion. His deep cravat, folded over so that, the laced ends drooped a little in front, was of the finest his great sash of blue and sil ver was a foot wide He bad a little jewel in one ear and his tiny beard was peaked a 1' Espagnole Probably when he turned he expected to see the ser geant, for at sight of me ha rose slowly, leaving the d«ce still covered "What folly is this?" he cried wrath fully "Here, Sergeant' Sergeant!— without there! What the—! Who are vou, Sir?" "Captain Larolle," I said, uncovering politely, "I believe?" "Yes, I am Captain Larolle," he re torted. "But who, in the fiend's name, are vou? You are not the man we are after!" "I am not Cocheforet," I said coolly. "I am merely a guest in the house, le Capitaine. I have been en joying Madam de Cocheforet's hospi tality for some time, but by an evil chance I was away when you arrived And with that 1 walked to the hearth, and, gently pushing aside his great boots which stood there drying, kicked the logs into a blaze. "Mille diables'" he wispered. And never did I see a man more confounded. But affected to be taken up with his companion, a sturdy, white-mustached old veteran, who sat back in his chair, eyeing we, with swollen cheeks and eyes surcharged with surprise. "Good evening, M. de Lieutenant," I said, bowing gravely. "It /is night" Then the storm burst. "Fine night!" the captain shrieked, finding his voice again "Mille diables! \re you aware, Sir, that I am in pos session of this house and that no one YOU SEEM SURPRISED, harbors here without my permission? Guest' Hospitality! Lieutenant—call the guard' Call the guard!" he con tinued passionately. "Where is that ape of a sergeant?" The lientenanl rose to obey, but I lifted my hand. "Gently, gently, captain," I said. "Not so fast! You seem surprised to see me heie. Believe me, I am much more surprised to see you." "Sacre!" he cried, recoiling at this fresh impertinence, while the lieuten ant's eyes almost jumped out of his head. But nothing moved me "Is the door closed'" I said sweetly. "Thank you it is, I see Then per mit me to say again, gentlemen, that I am much more surprised to see you than you can be to see me. When monseigneur the cardinal honored me by sending me from Paris to conduct this matter, he gave me the fullest— the fullest powers, M. le Capitaine—to see the affair to an end. I was not led to expect that my plans would be spoiled on the eve of success by the intrusion of half the garrison from Auch!" "O ho!" the captain said softly— In a very different tone and with a very different face. "So you are the gentleman I heard of at Auch?" -"Very likely," I said dryly. "But I am from Paris, not Auch." "To be sure," be answered thought fully. "Eh, lieutenant?" "Yes, M. le Capitaine, no doubt," the inferior replied And they both looked at one another, and then at me, In a way which I did not understand. "I think," said I, to clinch the matter, "that you have made a mistake, Cap tain or the commandant has. And It occurs to me that the cardinal will not be best pleased." "I hold the king's commission," he answered rather stiffly. "To be sure," I replied. "But you see the cardinal—" "Ah, but the cardinal—" he rejoined quickly and then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. And they both looked at me. "Well?" I said. "The king," he answered slowly. "Tut-tut!" I exclaimed, spreading out my hands. "The cardinal. Let us stick to him. "You were saying?" 'Well, the cardinal, you see—" And beside them lay a heap of haversacks^ then again altar the same words, hi and some straw. A shattered "stool, broken in a frolic and half a dozen empty wineskins strewed thefloorand helped^to give the place an air of un tidiness and disorder. I'looked round with eyes of disgust and my gorge rose. They had spilled oil and the-'place reeked foully. "Ventre bleu!" I said. "Is this con duct in a gentleman's house, you rascals? Ma vie! If I had you, I would send half of you to the wooden horse!" They gazed at me open-mouthed. My arrogance startled them. The sergeant alone scowled. When he could find his voice for rage— "This way!" he said. "Wc did not know a general officer was cbming, or we would have been oetter prepared!" And muttering oaths under his breath, he led me down the well-known pas sage. At the door of the parlor he stopped. "Introduce yourself!" he said rudely. "And if you find the air warm, don't blame mej" stopped—stopped abruptly, and shrug ged his Shoulders."* rM I began .to suspect something. "If you have anything to say Monseig neur," I answered, watching him nar rowly, "say it. But take a word ol advice. Don't let it go beyond the door of this room, my friend, and it will do you no harm." "Neither here nor outside," be re^ torted, looking for a moment at his comrade. "Only I hold the king's com mission. That is all. And I think enough. For the rest, will you throw a main? Good! Lieutenant, find a glass, and the gentleman a seat. And here, for my part, I will give you a toast. The cardinal—whatever betide!" I drank it, and sat down to play with him I had not heard the music of the dice for a month, and the temptation was irresistible. But I was not sat isfied. I called the mains and won his crowns—he was a mere baby at thf game—but half my mind was else where. There was something here 1 did not understand some influence at work on which I had not counted something moving under the surface as unintelligible to me as the soldiers' presence. Had the captain repudiated1 my commission altogether, and put me to door or sent me to the guard-house, I could have followed that But these dubious hints, this passive resistance, puzzled me. Had they news from Paris, I wondered. Was the king dead? oi the cardinal ill? I asked them. But they said no, no, no to all, and gave me guarded answers. And midnight found us still playing and still fenc ing. CHAPTER VIII. THE QUESTION Sweep the room, Monsieur? And remove this medley? But, M. le Cap taine—" "The captain is at the village," I replied sternly "And do vou move! move, man, and the thing will be done while you are talking about it. Set the door into the garden open—so!" "Certainly, it is a fine morning. And the tobacco of le Lieutenant— But M. le Captaine did not—" "Give orders? Well, I give them!" I answered "First of all, remove these beds And bustle, man, bustle, or I will find something to quicken you." In a moment— "And M. le Captaine's riding-boots?" "Place them in the passage," I re plied. "Ohe! In the passage?" He paused, looking at them in doubt "Yes, booby In the passage "And the cloaks, Monsieur?" "Theje is a bush handy outside the window. Let them air."' "Ohe, the bush? Well, to be sure they are damp. But—yes, yes, Mon sieur, it is done. And the holsters?" "There also!" I said harshly. "Throw them out. Faugh! The place reeks of a line leather Now, a clean hearth. And set the table before the open door, so that they may see the garden. So. And tell the cook that we shall dine at 11, and madam and mademoiselle will descend." "Ohe! But le Captaine order the dinner for half past eleven?" "It must be advanced then and mark you, my friend, if it is not ready when madam comes down, you will suffer, and the cobk too." When he was gone on his errand, I looked round. What else was lack ing? The sun shone cheerily on the polished floor the air, freshened by the rain which had fallen in the night, entered freely through the open door way. A few bees lingering with the summer hummed outside. The Are crackled bravely an old hound, blind and past work, lay warming its hide on the hearth. I could think of noth ing more, and I stood and watched the man set out the table and spread the cloth. "For how manj, Monsieur?* bo asked in a scared tone. "For five," I answered and I could not help smiling at myself. What would Zaton's say could It see Berault turned housewife! There was a whita glazed cup—an old-fashioned piece of the second Henry's time—standing on a shelf. I took it down and put some late flowers in it, and set it in the mid dle of the table, and stood off myself to look at it. But a moment later, thinking I heard them coming, I hur ried it away in a kind of panic, feeling on a sudden ashamed of the thing. The alarm proved to be false, however and then again, taking another turn, I set the piece back. I had done noth ing so foolish for—for more years than I liked to count. But when madam and mademoiselle came, they had eyes neither for the flowers nor the room. They had heard that the captain was out beating the village and the woods for the fugi tive, and where I had looked for a comedy I found a tragedy. Madam's face was soed with weeping that all her beauty was gone. She started and shook at the slightest sound, and, un able to find any words to answer my greeting, could only sink into a chair and sit crying silently. Mademoiselle was In a mood scarcely more cheerful. She did not weep, but her manner was hard and fierce. She spoke absently and answered fretfully. Her eyes glittered and she had the air of straining her ears continually to catch some dreaded sound. "There is no news, Monsieur?" she said, as she took her seat. And she shot a swift look at me. "None, Mademoiselle." "They are searching the village?" "I believe so.' "Where is Clon?" This in a lower voice and with a kind of shrinking in her face. I shook my head. "I believe they have him confined somewhere. And Louis, too," I said. "But I have not seen either of them." ."And where are—? I thought these people would be here," she muttered. And she glanced askance at the two vacant places The servant had brought in the meal. "They will be here presently,*' I said coolly. "Let us make the most «f the time. A little wine and food will do madam good." She smiled rather sadly. "I think we have changed places," she said "and that you have turned host and wo guests." "Let it be so," I said cheerfully. recommend some of this ragout. Come, Mademoiselle fasting can aid no one A full meal' has saved many a man's Ufe," N ITo Be Continued.] \jj xj PECK'S BAD BOY WITH THE CIRCUS By HON. GEORGE W. PECK Author of Peck's Bad BoyAbroad." Etc Ul AJ ICopyriKkt by jr. B. bowta.) The Bings Are So Muddy the Perform ers Have to Wear Rubber. Boots— The Freaks Present Pa with a Big Heart of Boses—The Show Closes and the Bad Boy Starts West with His Pa in Search of Attractions for the Coming Season. Well, Missouri is the state to teach a circus humility, and we have taken the thirty-third degree in the last ten days. It has rained nine days and a half out of a possiole ten days, and the mud is something we never dreamed of before. The wagons have been mired in the mud on the way from the train to the *ot every day in the streets of cities big enough to have street cars and electric" lights. The cities have one or two main streets paved, but the rest of the streets are just virgin soil, and you have got to swim to get to the paved streets. When you start away for "the lot, it is like Washington crossing the Dela ware. And yet the people come from miles around to see the show, and every body rides a web-tooted mule, that can wallow in the mud. They hitch the mules to fences outside the tent, and while the performance is going on the mules bray in concert and drown the band. Pa has been wild ever since we struck Missouri, and no wonder, cause everybody seems to lay everything in the way of weather on him. Every place we show the lot is one sea of mud, and when we get the rings made they seem like a chain of lakes, and in galloping around the rings the horses splash mud and water clear to the reserved seats. The riders of the horses have to come out in rubber hunting boots and when they get on the horses we have to pull their boots off and hold them until* the act is over, then the riders sit on the horses and pull the boots on and get down in the mud of the ring and bow to the audience. The women riders are the worst to wear rubber boots, cause they fall They Tossed 7a Up in the Blanket down in the mud and spoil their dresses and kick scandalous. The trapeze performers have to be carried out of the dressing room on stretchers, and hoisted up to the net, cause they can't do stunts up on the trapeze with wet feet, and we have worked our selves to death getting things in shape. The confounded elephants just glory in the mud, and the minute they get in the ring they all lay down and roll in the mud and water, so when they are ready to do their act they look like walking mud pies. The freaks are awful to handle, the giant being the only one that can wade through and look pleasant, and the fat woman would make you weary, she has to be carried back and forth to the platform by half a force of hands. Pa has had shawl straps and coffin handles fas tened to her clothes, so there will be something to grab hold of to move her around, don't think that an other year we will have any fat wom an, cause pa says it costs more to get this 500-pound female from one place to another than all the rest of the show. He thinks that people who vis it the show don't care much about a fat woman anyway, but just guy her and ask her what kind of breakfast food she lives on. He thinks if we had three reasonably fat women that weighed about 200 pounds apiece, it would give better satisfaction and they would be easier to handle but when she heard what pa said and felt that she was going to be shook next year she began to cry, and it was like turn ing on water in a bathtub. Pa had to pet her and then the bearded woman got jealous. At Jefferson City there came a cold wave and everything was froze stiff, and you could skate in the rings, and 4he management decided to get to St. Louis and send the show to winter quarters, and organize for next season. So we have had a time closing up for the season, and sending the animals to the barns on our farm up north, and discharging and paying off the per formers and bidding everybody good by. We have bought presents for everybody, and it has been a picnic. Pa had a big heart, with roses all around it, made of a horse collar, covered with flowers, which came from the freaks, and the performers remem bered him with presents, and pa gave everybody something, and everybody got together in the main tent and made speeches. The manager thanked everybody and promised that next year.we would have the greatest show on earth. He said the management had decided that what we lacked this year was a wild west show, as the people everywhere seemed to dote on busting bronchos, and roping cattle, and chasing buffa loes and seeing Indians and rough riders chase up and down the arena. He felt that in justice to our rough riding president, it was proper to have a wild west show that would make Will Search for the Wildest of Bed Men. things hum next year. He said he took pleasure in informing the people of the show that pa had been commis sioned to go out west at once and se cure the Indians and cowboys, horses that buck and bounce off the riders, cattle that would stand it to be las soOed and thrown down for the amuse ment of the public, buffaloes that would bellow and act like old times on the plains, stage coaches and robbers, and he promised that next year they would have no cause to be^ashamed of the show. He said pa was authorized' to spare no expense to round up a wild west show second to none. The per formers and hands cheered the mana-j ger, and then they yelled for pa for a speech. Pa got up on the tub that the elehpants stand on, and said that it was true what the manager said about a wild west show, and that he was proud of the confidence reposed in him. He should be glad to take an ex pedition and go out into the far west and beard the wild west Indian in his tepee and engage Indians by the hun dred to come with us next yeai. He would pierce the wilderness of the west in search of the wildest red men andjocular would hunt the cowboy in his lair and secure those who could make the most trouble for cattle and horses and shoot up an audience if necessary to keep the peace, and he would buy buf faloes enough so every performer could ride one if he wanted to. He said while we had this year had some at tempts at a wild west department in our show, it was only a tame imita tion of what we would have next year, and'he wanted them all to pray for him, that he might come out of the wild far west without being killed. He said he should take Hennery along with him as a mascot, and if the worst came he could trade me to an Indian tribe for ponies, or leave me as a hos tage with some tribe until he returned the Indians at the close of next sea son. Pa closed his remarks by hoping that nothing had occurred during the past season that would cause anybody to have it in for him, cause he had tried to be impartial in his cussedness, and while he felt that ho had been considered an interloper in the pro fession at first, he had found that ev erybody looked upon him later in the season as the main guy in the show, and that all had felt at liberty to give it to him in the neck on every proper occasion and he felt that he had taken his medicine like a thoroughbred.' They gave three cheers for pa, and then they brought in the blankets and tossed everybody up until they lost everything out of their pockets and yelled that they had enough, and they wound up by tossing pa up in the blan ket until he could see stars. They were going to give the fat woman a hoist, when the boss canvassman gave the signal to take down the tents, and all was in a hubbub for about 15 min utes. When everything was down and ev erybody went to the train, after joining hands around the middle ring and singing "Old Lang Sine," pa and I and the manager went to a hotel to organize our expedition to the far west in search of talent for a wild west show that shall be the greatest ever put under canvas. After all had gone away, and only pa and I and the man agers were left, it seemed, as we thought over the incidents of the past season, as though there had been an earthquake and the whole show had been blotted out of existence. Pa choked up and was going-to cry, and I got my throat full of something so I could not speak, and the mana gers began to wipe their eyes, and pa saved the day by saying: "On, what's the use, let's order up Some highballs," and when they came, with a red lem onade for me. pa said: "Well, here's to the people that crowd around the ticket wagon and flght to get the first ticket when the window is open, and go away after the show and say it is the greatest show ever." "Hey Rube!" said the manager, and we drank standing, and pa went out and bought tickets for Cheyenne, and some beads to give to the Indians we shall viBit In the west. FATE OF EUROPEAN BISON. Bevolutions in Bussia Cause crease in Number of These Animals. De- An interesting side effect of the re bellion and perhaps revolution of which we read in Russia is the possible speedy extinction of a species of ani mal which for many years has been jealously protected by the czar In times of national peace and content ment the European bison lives in the imperial forests of Lithuania, presuma bly unmolested but whenever there is a rising in Poland and the rebels take to the woods they use this herd of bison as a part of their commissary and kill them for beef. For many years, says Forest and Stream, there has been a gradual less ening in numbers of this herd, which by many zoologists is thought to be due to inbreeding yet there are others who believe that the decrease in this protected herd, which 50 years ago numbered nearly 2,000 and which Uvea wild in its native habitat, is too rapid to be accounted for solely by inbreed ing, and must be due to destruction by man, notwithstanding the efforts made by the authorities to protect them. Statistics of the Bielowitza herd in Grodno show that between 1833 and 1857 these bison increased from 768 to 1,898, but from this time on the de crease has been constant until in 1892 the herd numbered less than 500. The butchery of human beings in Russia, which is reported to be taking place on a scale quite unparalleled in times of peace for the last hundred years, stirs the emotions of the world yet zoologists will view with keen re gret the diminution of the European bison, which for hundreds of years has been preserved from extinction only by the very hand that brought its num bers so low. Of the herd of these bison which in habits the mountains of the Caucasus, in the province of Kuban, we know lit tle or nothing, but the same causes which seem likely to bring about the absolute extermination of the. herd in Grodno will be operative in the Cau casus, and the race seems likely now to receive a blow from which it can never recover. On one or two estates in Europe and in a few zoological gardens there are living specimens of these bison, but their number are very few. Perhaps the little herd belonging to the prince of Pless is the most numerous. American Humor. "The other day," said a man who knows a joke, "several of us American 'littyratters' were chaffing an intelli gent Englishman on his dullness of perception of American humor, and some of us made the statement that American humor in literature ranked higher than that of any other nation on the globe. The Englishman chal lenged the statement and asked what writers of humor we had of even na tional reputation who were continuing the work of their predecessors which had given to us our adventitious fame. We all began at once to silence him forever by hurling at him the names of Mark Twain, Bob Burdette, George Ade, Peter Dunne and—and—well, we stopped there, so far as the Englishman was concerned. True, we mentioned the names of others, but the Englishman said he had been liv ing in a western town for two years and had never heard of them until he came to New York. He gave us the ha! ha! and offered to get all kinds of liquid refreshments that the bunch of us couldn't name ten Amer ican writers of humor who had any thing more than a local reputation, and that wouldn't last as soon as the newspapers got tired of them. This put us up against it" said the man, according to the New York Press, "and we began to figure a bit with no great success. At last accounts we were considerably shy of the promised ten. and now I am, questioning myself as to whether or not we are producers of humor or merely appreciators of it. I mean that sort of humor which is something more than the vaudeville joke, good for one season. If any of you can tell me ten good names of substantially funny writers I'll be obliged to yon, «nd get the drinks on the Briton. He B~.s kindly given us 60 days in which we may jedeem our selves." Joke on theJEditor. An editor, who does not mind a joke at his own expense, says he went into a drug store recently and asked for some morphine. The assistant objected to giving It without a prescription. "Why," asked the editor, "dp I look like a man who would kill himself?" "I don't know," said the assistant "if I looked like you I should be tempted." The present article Is intended to give an application of the foregoing use of symbol forms to decorative treatment. Decoration is to be under stood as the application of form, line or color to surface for its beautiflca tion The form, line or color is ap propriate for such application which is considered for the especial use of the surface or object offering a chance for decoration. Taste in Decoration. In other words, taste dictates what presentation of a selected form should Tr-'~ EASY LESSONS IN DRAWING By FREDERICK RICHARDSON (instructor tn Composition and in Charge of Illustration Classes in the Art Institute. Cnicago.) (Copyright, by Joseph B. Bowles.) DECORATIVE TRE 1TMENT OF NATO HAL FORMS VIOLETS-LANDSCAPE —DANDELION -GRASSES. be chosen for the given place for dec oration As taste is a variable point of view, differing in time and with peoples, the fixture of any point of view is open to dispute Criterions of taste may be fixed for a certain people by the classics of that people. A broad catholicity of taste is able to recognize the good in the art of any people, but that is not fixing the style for any of them. Anyone familiar with the widely differing decorative principles of the Orientals or the changes of style that European art have undergone will understand this PLATE MOTIF-RATS tain of his pupils the desire for the expression of the decorative instinct will often find that it is opposed to this realistic expression, and the same with those pupils who can see art only in the realistic way The dec orative presentation does not appeal to them. This is the same difference in temperament which has shown itself at so many other points in the training of a class of children of varied artistic instincts. The claim that the decorative is the higher order of artistic expression is not for dis cussion here. What is presented here is the application of such material as has been cultivated to decorative pur poses as defined How Material Is Used. If, taking the band of snails, we were'to present one snail with natural setting for consideration, it would probably under that condition be re garded as a more or less realistic pic ture of a snail, but if we take the snail as a motif, regarding its form as one showing grace of line and re- HER ©®®I The teacher who discovers in cer- A CHILD'S BOOK PLATE 't&n -*p- 1 I rA peat it under artificial conditions, that is, not giving it natural surro'uncV mgs and individual consideration but making a pattern or band of its multi plied form, we have arrived at its decorative possibilities. One snail might be a picture of a snail, the same snail repeated results in a form of decoration The same is the case with the violet band The small argu ments that may dispute this are waived as immaterial to the present intention. A single form, as the dandelion, becomes a conventionalized one, and as such, material for certain styles of decoration, when it is multi plied and made to obey certain laws of symmetry which the natural flower would not serve. A naturalistic pres entation may be equally serviceable for another form of decorative use, as the bunch of grasses, obeying by natural inclination the shape of the round in which it is placed There the selection of quantity and the propor tions of the whole space supply the decorative element The Japanese show us how a nat ural form may obey decorative treat ment The landscape by well consid ered spaces and reduction to few planes also serves in half realistic decoration. It will be seen from the exampk shown that all unnecessary details and graduations of tone have been sacri ficed to this giving of a few well shaped masses that cut the whole space into pleasant and unconven tional proportions. In such arrange ment the allotment of color will be seen to be arbitrary as far as local color is concerned, and is used only to obtain a decorative balance Of course Where it is so contrived as to represent the actual local color or marking ingenuity of design is gained Book Plate Designs. The child's book plate is a figure motif given with freedom of line and almost natural treatment, relying upon the symmetrical rendering of the whole mass to give it the character its purpose demands. It is suggested to give the child forms and spaces to fill with decora tion from motives to be decided upon or to be left to the child's selection. Try to direct the child's taste in the way of the big and simple. Guard against a too realistic or overworked rendition, and where possible keep be fore the child good models, which in these days of a wider and broader ap preciation of esthetics ought not to be so scarce. Mental Requirements. "A man must know a great deal to be of much value to your corporation." "Yes\" answered Mr. Dustin Stax, "and, on the other hand, we must for get a great deal."—Washington Star. i^st"