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o* r y - _ ■• -.\ —^—BB———lM^—^^^^— Ill: HP fifl BUr i tekK_^^B sir - ■-. .: :... -■ ■x : x jg HBSB&Ma ■' IBS sSS^y<^SJS*a^:S^^ ■***• **«™« No. I—SALUTE. BY ELLA ADELIA FLETCHER. Tho teacher of fencing—the maitro d'armes i -is always in lore with his art, and he draws a marked distinction between fencing as a fad aud the art of fencing-of fencing in earnest. Not all society women take fencing as a fad. Many of them have a double object in view; to be amused, of course—none will work so hard to be bored—but the woman who is in earnest realises that if she masters the fascinating art not only will her amuse ment be trebled, but she will reap a reward in the added grace which the agile move ments impart. Systematic practice will de velop the feminine figure, at the same time strengthening all the limbs and imparting litheness to their movements, with perfect ncise and ease of bearing and that lightness of step the want of which makes a woman hoydenish or loggy, according to her age. The most awkward woman or girl cannot fall to exchange that handicap for alluring i grace of movement if she gives herself with enthusiasm to the endeavor to acquire ex : pertness in handling the foil. It so quickens the pulse and stirs the blood, without over working the muscles, that it ranks as one of the most perfect forms of exercise. Fencing has well been called "the sport of kings." Nothing else calls into such ac tivity the highest powers of the human being. Exercise with the foils stirs a woman's brain to such rapidity of thought and Infinity of resources that she will look back upon the days before she practiced this fine art of athletics as a period of intolerable sluggishness, and feel that only now has she come into possession of her best self. The various movements, salutes, lunges, parries, ripostes and on guards, are mat ters of technique and are easily learned, but the secret of expertness in the art lies In alertness of sight, thought and movement. Every parry and reposte calls these move- ■ " - ':"■■: - '■■: Ho. S—GRAND SALUTE. ments into instantaneous action. Here Is one thing into which a woman must enter with her whole heart and soul or enter not at all. She cannot here scatter her forces by thinking of one thing and doing another, as has been her deplorable, nerve straining and demoralizing habit. No other drill equals that with the foil in compelling a command over the simul taneous action of all the powers of mind and body; and no other art cultivates to the same extent celerity of thought and alert for these so desirable qualities", in all fields of endeavor are indispensable in foiling the adversary's attacks. The eye and thought are thus trained to re markable unity in action, and the muscles to instantaneous compliance to the nerves of command. During lessons or practice every square inch of the body derives some benefit from the varied movements. Lungs are developed and the chest broadened, and the stillest limbs must gain suppleness and elasticity. The art of fencing dates from the sixteenth century, when armor gave way before gun powder, and men had to learn to defend themselves with swords, but it reached its highest point early in the nineteenth century, when it came into vogue in France. The favorite system, called the French school of fencing, was- founded on the historical sword-play of Spain. In Italy, especially in Naples^ and from patriotic motives, the sword-masters still retain the long foil, with its bell-shaped guard, which, is a descendant of the Spanish rapier. The French school combines nobleness of character with correctness of form, har monized by their national instinct for all that is truly artistic In its early days, in fluencedby the prevailing bombast and blus ter of the period following the French Revo lution, it was overlaid with superfluous form and theatrical nonsense. Now, however, a ST. PAUIi GLOBE: mr^TDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1902. rigid simplicity of movement has taken the place of the old-time extravagance of ges ture, thus reducing the action to those par ries and ripostes—"tbe keystone of fencing" —which are most effective. The best description of the aim in fencing is, perhaps, that which'Moliere puts into M. Jourdain's mouth—"A dormer et a ne point recevoir." In English this is: To "pick" your adversary, but to parry his ripostes. The slender, modern foil is an evolution from its deadlier sharp.-edged forerunner, used on the dueling field for cutting and slashing. Its flexible, quadrangular blade is dull, about 34 inches long, and its sharp point is securely protected by a button in all amicable -contests and in practice. When 'I "~ "" . ' ' .. .TV- x * safe** !•.■ :■ ;■:? •• >>*£ ■-■■;• ■: -:■ '.-.*!? 5 y;. :. <t 1?:-:;.. 5 ■:■ j; v:-: :■ ;■ss ■.;.:■:;■>;■?■:■:;:■ . :-.■; ; ■. ■ ■;■.■■.-..■:;■:■:■:■: .:■ ■■ ■ : ::.:-. fcjagram ■■ : -: ■ ■'■ ■■'■ -: ■' ■ ?fcsss?ji'jy""ui>tii" j""i-"i'>" >i'ii'if'ii|gww<aßo9^jgnß^gwK^^^ '. ... -**^ - - ■-.' " ~ - ' engaged In these friendly bouts the partlcl-,, plants are protected from bodily harm by wire masks and padded waistcoats and gloves, but for ordinary practice these are dispensed with, as they are heating and cumbersome. In the first position the foil Is held in the right hand, between the thumb and index finger, the other fingers clasping easily the handle, which fests lightly along the life line of the hand. After the salute the torso is twisted slightly to the left, exposing only about three-quarters of its surface to the adversary's ripostes. The parries illustrated are those most fre quently used, parry four being generally considered the strongest and most forcible of all. There is a meaning and use for every line and gesture which these poses show. The left arm, as curved upward in a half circle, helps to maintain the perfect poise and balance of the body, and the feet are exactly at that angle and distance apart which enable them to bear so^equally the weight of the fencer that she can instantly advance or retreat, according to the exi gencies of her opponent's lunges and ripostes. An expert fencer throws his feel- Ing into the point of his foil so successfully that lie manipulates it with the delicacy of an etcher's point. It is as near being alive as an inanimate thing can be. The women of Continental Europe were much quicker to recognize the advantages of studying the art of fencing than any of their sisters, yet the art has "had its femi nine followers in New York for 25 years past. It has, unfortunately, gone through many stages of fadism here. At one time the mere announcement that an influential young matron was an expert fencer served to double the classes of the best-known maitre d'armes. Fenclngls greatest vogue as a fashionable craze In New York brought unpleasant no toriety upon its devotees. A healthier and more enduring phase of this sporting exer cise, however, has been entered upon. Those. who would not give It up parried tie public curiosity by raising an impenetrable bar rier, and have since pursued this pastime In the private ealles d'armea in their own homes. One New York maitre d'armes has this winter nearly 150 students. Dogs Of The "400" Canine socfeii;. like the "400," has its smart set, and a Ypry^exclusive one it is, too. Its members would' n» more dream of associat ing with, or even notlcfng, ordinary, every day dogs thshf the- inaer circle of society would the new^xyjh. In fact, Pepita White house, Mrs. itJufJorman do K. Whitehouse's fox terrier, o^i'tfertain occasions, when she is ou*t with her fond mistress, and has on company behavior, sctfrns even the adula tion and affectionate greetings of her mis tress' friends. No dog can boast of more beautiful indifference to-such expressions as "You dear thing!" "You sweet doggie woggie!"' "You darling bow-wow!" than "Pepsie," as she is affectionately called. "Pepsie"'is-devoted to Mrs. Whitehouse, fairly: idolizes her, and obeys her slightest look as.; well as command. ." Last summer when " Mrs.:; Whitehouse made frequent trips to towja from ; her country home, .at Port ' Washington, L. 1., "Pepsie" in variably ac companied her,"find when Mis. -Whitehonse : took , luncheon at Sherry's "Pepsie" needed uo instruction to curl up on ihe sofa in the. ladies' -reception-room, 'for - she sought . this spot 'time she went there, and, in tobedicuce to Mrs. Whitehouse's upraised finger warning her not to budge, she never : moved : until - her j mistress returned "or . her., Friends o£Alr.s. Whitehonse niigh-t.come and ■ go, 1: calling "her sbrts-.of endearing names, but without avail, and.Mrs. O. H. P. Bel niont's French, bulldog and .Boston terrier often-cast end-eariug- glances in her direc tion, but they were met with an expression of ; utter indifference, for Pepita , realized that she must mainjain her .dignity,' obey her mistress' instructions and comport her self in a way becoming her station in the world of modish dogs, -where she holds the position of leader. - Pepita dresses" in severely : plain " English style, wearing a broad . nickel trimmed collar. She- leaves blankets, furnb&as, rubber boots, bloomers and bow knots jto other dogs. ' She prefers simple elegance. -;v - . - v Hunker Elttman. if lie could talk English, 6 would probably be able to , tell of his long descent from reyolutionary stock. He comes ' from Boston, anyway—or, :at least, his '.an- i cestors did. He is a Boston ; terrier, who boasts of having been born ;on Bunker Hill day, which fact accounts for his name. He j belongs to . Mrs. Lawrence' Bog»«"t Ejirmii'n," and leads the happiest l|^erof...any:.dog in New York. A,ll his mistress' sisters and other relatives are devoted to him, and whenever his birthday,; June IT, comes around there is a family party iti bis honor. Last year he had a,cake four teawtiful caudles on it, ■x-\.^yy.-- -A<.>l& -a-v-i.<-M■>/--:■. • ■■.■.■"■■-: ■■ ■ :.-;.■ V*£B . ■ I pSi* %h"i ■ i^ No. 4-Ll'\GE; A POINT MADE-. and In it were a thimble, some money and favors of vartous kinds. He received several other gifts toesfefes. Bunker was very ill recently, and two veterinary surgeons were in constant at tendance upoß him day and night, in addi tion to his mistress and one of her sisters. His cousin, Terrence Coppell, the fox terrier of his mistress' sister, Miss Florence Cop pell, is another aristocratic bow-wow,'and one that has affection and wealth lavished upon him. He is very fond of Mrs. Elliman, and when she was married last month in "Grace Church he sent her.a beautiful silver framed mirror for a wedding present. Tommy Cameron is the only dog in fash ionable circles that is permitted to enter the restaurant at Sherry's. He is a most gen tlemanly dog, and always acconipantes his mistress, Miss Catharine Cameron, daugh ter of the late Sir Roderick Cameron, when she lunches there. She carries him in her arms, and he sits demurely t>n her lap dur ing the meal. Like Miss Pepita Whitehouse, Tommy dresses very simply and never wears anything m)>rß: ornatethan a collar as broad as his neck; is long, made of brass-trimmed leather. Ttommy is a toy bulldog and Is about as big as a pint of cider. Chinese Slumming. A Chinese"' wbman, young and pretty, with a girl companion of about her own age, was making a tour of inspection through New York. It csold not be determined by an on looker wtort h%r object might be. She was intensely t|te|ested in the skyscrapers and went in ap&gu't of buildings/with the activ ity and persistency of a book agent. How ever, she /d&Med Hothing in her hand but a paper fan?: Which she opened and closed daintily with a rattle of jade bracelets. She and her friend went in and out of ele vators and rode to giddy heights. With no purpose that any one could detect, they peered here, and peeped there—all of the time opening i and. shutting doors with sly eagecness and much curiosity. Finally someone wh4 had met them repeatedly in the course of the day asked what they wer^ doing. The Chinese maid answered quick as a flash: "Me all the same slumming to day." rood In Its Relation To Health. Therje Is an old recipe beginning "First catch your hare," which is a reasonable enough direction to apply to more things than a rabbit stew. The process of nutrition begins and ends in the earth, and half the struggle of life is a struggle to catch the hare. Every step of the way, from the chemical workshop of the earth's surface to tti:it marvelous combination of muscuiar power and Intellectual energy which we call man, is a part of the process of nutrition. Food is the controlling factor of life, the larg§6t passive factor in the development of the individual, and his life is molded and modified by his method of obtaining his food supply. The human animal is affected by his environment—climate affects him, weather affects him—but he is formed by the food he eats. Whatever our vocation in life, in whatever way we are called fco do our part in the world's play, nothing is of more importance than that we should be physically and men taliy equal to the daily task. Farmers long ago learned that to produce quality in stock animals must be properly led. A well fed, that is. a -property fed, horse can do twice, fcbe work of an underfed or an overfed one. Properly fed cows proauce a larger quantity .ss well as a better quality, of milk. -Pigs, ■geese, ducks and,chickens, ail have_certain foods which, under given ■ conditions, are known to produce the best pork ami the best poultry. It seems strange thafr-ttfan, basing discovered aH this and acted upou it, should so persistently ignore the. fact that the same.! law applies • to> himself. There is con siderable talk, of the/conawitioa between health and morals, and probably every one kuowjj something of the influence of diges tion, or indigestion, vpon the temper. But, in spite of all the talk, of all that science has done to prove it, few actually believe that their mental condition and capacity are directly effected by the food they eat. The struggle to get sufficient food has been and is the great problem of many other countries, but in America starvation occurs only In individual cases, for famine does not threaten the land. The prodigality of na ture in America has led to a spendthrift habit, nowhere more manifested than in our use of foods. If the workingman, the stu dent or the wealthy man of comparative leisure were limited in his choice, the errors and sin of overeating would not be so com mon or persistent. The variety of food products of all kinds is bewildering, and the temptations for over-indulgence great, par ticularly in a city like New York. New York is one of the great eating places of the world. There people go to eat. There people go to see others eat. Conversation, however it may begin, usually ends with where, when and how to eat. In what other city do people who have homes of their own, to the same extent, so continually go forth to eat? The temptations to overeat are con stant, the incentives to rightly learn how to eat few. The tempting variety and the superabundance of food now enjoyed con tinually induce men and women to eat and drink more than their systems can stand. It might be safe to assume that a large pro portion of those who habitually dine out in New York resemble lv inner feeling, if not in outer action, the small boy of the follow ing tale: Queen Alexandra, when Princess of Wales, came one day upon a tiny mite of a bay crying piteously. He was in charge of a fat and cornfoTtable old lady, who seemed quite unmoved by his grief. "What is the matter?" inquired the Princess. "Is he ill?" "Wa'al, ma'am," said the old lady, "he isn't exactly ill, but-no stomach carn't stand nine buns-." Believe it or not, the fact remains that over-indulgence in food weak ens the moral fiber, and lessens mental as well as physical efficiency. THE HUMAN SYSTEM LIKE A BANK. No single living thing Is the same fox two consecutive hours. In its normal, living body there are always changes taking place—losses from within, gains from without. Change is the necessary condition of life and activ ity. No bank could exist if its depositors required a hoarding of their money. The use of the deposits makes the bank's living, earns its dividends, pays ita salaries. It is done by continual interchange, a paying out from within, a taking in from without. Thus it is in the human system, but food is the medium of exchange. However solid and secure the building may appear, the bank is not the permanent factor. The money ia the fixed consideration. Man is prone to look upon himself as the permanent object through, which dinners may or may not pass. It may be this mistaken way of regarding themselves as tie fixed consideration which leads men to use their bodies as depositories for food, with, resulting partial or total fail ure of health and strength. We may not even store np food in our bodies as the chip- BY HELEN LOUISE JOHNSON. munk dqea nnts in his nest. Energy may be stored, reserves of health and strength against a day of need, but man can use and assimilate only certain, and these limited, amounts of food. To continually overwork the system by forcing It to digest more material than it can pare for means to over draw the account. A balance must be found and kept between the income and the ex penditure. OVEIt-NUTRITION THE BANE OF CIV ILIZATION. Food is "that which, taken into the body, either builds tissue or yields energy." Man undoubtedly was originally endowed with the instinct of the animal which leads it to select the foods s-uited to its needs. Civiliza tion has led us, we fondly fancy, far from the savage, but its complexity has bred un natural desire* 1. The evil of the eating habits of the present (lay is apt to be over-nutrit'on, rather than under, with resultant diseases due to the overwork.of the digestive organs.* i It is not the occasional, but the habitual, repletion which'causes trouble. Take one case as example. This man continually cats more meat, which means nitrogeneous ma- , terial, than his body can use, leaving a surplus of nutrient material which must be disposed of In the system In some way. This goes on until a bilious attack occurs, which ... j/ 0 : ■ . . ■:■.:, ■•.•■.■:■...:■■■.■■. - : .jflßjlA^: No. 3—PARRY SEVES About New York's Swell Set. Mrs. M. Bright Collier solved the prob lem of what to do with a debutante's bou quets at the reception which she gave re cently to introduce her daughter, Miss Georgette Collier, Instead of having them scattered about the drawing-room, as they usually are at coming-out teas, and decorat ing the mantel shelf, Mrs. Collier had a screen made for them, on wiich they were hung and placed near the door of her library, where she and Miss Collier received. This screen was made of wire and was about six feet high and three and a half wide. It was entirely covered with smilax, and tips of Florida palm leaves edged it all around. "Wire rings were fastened on it in rows, and served as holders for the bou quets, the handles of whie'u were placed through them. The ribbon bows-, which al ways trim the handles of the debutante's bouquets-, hid these rings, and added to the bright mass of color. The effect was ex ceedingly pretty, and at a distauee suggested a bit of gorgeous brocade on which great bunches of flowers were wrought. The hostess and her daughter stood in front of the screen. Mrs. Auguste Moutant loves harmony, as her drawing-room suggests. It is done in blue and white, even the ornaments on the mantel shelf carrying out the color scheme In clock and candelabra of china. The man tel is draped to match them in blue velvet, trimmed with a heavy white Russian lace. Mrs. Henry D. Nicoll has a little chair in her drawing-room which, vr.ere it in her bedroom, one would imagine was intended to be used when buttoning one's boots, it being just the size,of chairs made for that purpose. It is a quaint little bit of furni ture, in dark-painted, wood, inlaid with mother-01-pcarl, and is older ihau its owner. It looks & bit strange in up-to-date surround ings, for it belongs to another period and has an antique loneliness. . ■;■; ■: ■■■. :■ ■■■■ ■. ■:■■:■:■ .- :■ :■ ■:■ ■:■ ■: ■::% :■ ■■:•. ■: ■:■■■. ■. -. ■. ■:■■■■ \ ■ *>"■:■■,■■ $&&£-> . '■-■: '■•'■■&%&? ■ ■'■■■--'■■ " Wlto&38« ■' "|>>.«::<:'; .■■:■■■ : ■:■..-:■■ ■.■ ■■ ■■. :■ :■:■:■:■;■: ■,■■:■ ■:■ :■ .■:.::■ :■ ■,■:■;■:■■ ;■ :■ l^^^^^^S^^ ■ ■■■■;■■■■■"■■■■ ' ' ;:"; Wo. 2-PARRY FOUR. he lays to the hearty meal of the night be fore. A bilious attack is but the effort of r the system to clear or clean house. It Is the effect, not the cause, and it means that the body is making an effort to balance its accounts. After a time this surplus material ' may appear as fat on the outside of the body or around the various organs, or it may go to produce some other form of disease, for too much fat is just as much an indication of something wrong as not enough. The liver having rebelled, gout and rheu matism ensue, sometimes worse, for the kid- ) neys, too, are involved. The object of eat ing has been stated in the definition of food, and our diet should be that which will best answer our individual needs for the two purposes of building material and fuel. It is perfectly possible to eat rationally and healthfully and still gratify the palate; in, fact, things which please the sense of taste stimulate the flow of the digestive juices. It is safe to assume that man wherever found desires to be the most powerful man , he can become, and he wiil asree, if he thinks about it at all, that at least to a cer tain degree he mnst be what he eats. But in the face of all that science might teach him, he still reverts to the superstition .that what he likes and all he likes is best for him to eat. Mrs. Henry W. Poor when receiving anj one with whom she is not acquainted has herself announced by her footman before she enters her drawing-room or reception room, as the case may be. The strangei waiting for her Is startled by the door being thrown open, a footman in livery entering and announcing in loud and Imposing tones, "Mrs. Poor." Mrs. Hermann Oelrichs has a dog collar made of diamonds and turqolse. Large * olive-shaped turpoise are joined together . by, or rather are «et at intervals upon, c filigree work of diamonds, which fnrnsE * charming background. Mrs. Oelrichs TE" »"e i this necklace recently with a gown of £ *ck net covered with jet spangles, and Lad a large, round brooch to match fastening the bodice at the belt in front. In the drawing-room of Mrs. Frederick Snse, Peter Marie's niece, is a quaint and beautiful sofa that it would be difficult to duplicate. It is made of Italian oak, and the frame is so exquisitely carved it looks ex actly like a piece of Venetian lace. The covering is of Pompeiian red velvet. Mrs. Clarence Mackay is a great admirer of the Japanese dwarf plants, and has niuny varieties of the little trees and shrubs at her country home, Harbor Hill, Roslyn. They are not in the stately house, for they would be lost amid the luxurious surround ings there, but they are in a little cottage, which Mrs. Mackay calls her "hut," in the woods, where, from tUne to time, she seeks rest and seclusion and where she is able to get in touch with nature. These tiny plants from the land of the Mikado stand in queer-shaped little china pots and bowls, • over which small porcelain Japs stand guard. They are extremely qnaint and fit the "hut" to perfection, for, like it, they are modest little things, and the jardi nieres that hold them also are unostenta tious as possible.