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co *- NEW YORK, SATURDAY, SEPTEMB ER 1 7, 1887 $4.00 . o so once.

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“Its standard is higher than that of any weekly publication for the young.”—Boston Globe.


An Illustratrio WEEKLY.

The number for August 30 contains the second and concluding part of Mits. Burton HARRIsos's pretty story of “Rose-in-the-Woods,” with an ilhastration by C. D. Weldon ; and the seventh instalment of “Derrick Sterling,” with a handsomely engraved full-page illustration.

“The Shark Light-House” in the title of a pretly story by Lillias Campbell, Davidson; “The Story of a Shadow” is a fable by MARY A. Lathbury, with two illustrations by the author.

The principal illustration is a front-page, en: graving, after a drawing by W. A. Rogrks, entitled


It accompanies an article entitled “Canoeing in Quick Waters,” by the Commodore of the New York Canoe Club.

“A Modern Hero” is the title of a short sketch of the life of the late Missionaby Bishop HANNINGTON.

SUBScirii Tion Pirick, $200 PER YEAR. A specimen copy of HARPER's YoUNG PEOPLE will be sent on application.

HARPER's Bazan.


Our next number will contain a PATTERN-Short SupplkMENT, with numerous full-sized patterms, illustrations, and descriptions of LADIES' AUTUMN and WINTER Gowns | AFTERNoon Toilettes; GENtlk, MEN's Shooting JACKETs; Children's FRocks and APRONs;* LiNGERik and UNDER-WEAR #. Boys and Girls; Fancy - Work, Embroidery Patterms, etc., etc.; with choice literary and artistic attractions.


T is a famous saying with those satirizers I of the female world who seem to think themselves as remote from the poor creatures who compose it as if they had not leen born of them, that nobody is so hard on a woman, to use their vernacular, as another woman, the saying leing actuated by the same sentiment as that of the old saw that one must set a thief to catch a thief, or that in the days of slavery there was no such severe slave-driver as another slave.

But surely the persons who are fond of making this utterance are persons of but small acquaintance either with womankind; in particular or with human nature in its broader scope; for the truth lies exactly in the opposite direction, and properly stated would be that every woman is the good friend of every other woman on every necessity and occasion.

It is true that women, as a class, have a high standard of what belongs to a woman's behavior, and are exacting in relation to it. They see in any lowering of this standard injury to their own daughters or sisters that they must ward off and prevent; for by the term women we do not mean young girls, but people who have arrived, at any rate, at years of discretion, and are in possession of what are called settled habits. These may do wrong themselves, but they do not approve of it if they do, and they do not want any one else to do wrong; and the more they personally falter in the right path, the more important they feel it for others to do differently, and so perhaps arrange a fair average. And it is true also that the mass of women will not countenance certain great sins, overt and direct baseness, or make the way easy to the transgressor who throws reproach on all womanhood; for they know by subtle instinct that that way salvation lies, even for the life on this earth, since home and family and pure happiness are only built on those foundations in which such sin has no part; and if they frown upon it, it is with the pure severity in which the angel of the Lord himself would frown. Into their households of innocent youth they cannot introduce such elements, and are thus cut off by force of circumstances from one way of exercis

ing charity toward it; but till the offender

ceases an offending course they can only recognize her as the chief and greatest enemy that home and the family and all other women have; and it is hardly human nature to hug one's unrepentant enemy to one's bosom. But where this disapproval does not exist, and in its place there are sympathy and fellowship to be found, who is it cares for the sick and sorrowing and suffering sinner but another sinner of her own sex f. And where it does exist, who labors more among unfortunate women than other women f And the moment that repentance comes to the erring one, who is more tenderly eoncerned for her welfare than the woman who has never erred ? And if not all women, yet enough to make us see that pity and mercy

and forgiveness are not altogether inasculine attributes, but can be known to women, and are felt and practised by them. But in far lesser things also one sees daily the friendship of woman for women. When illness rages in a village, who is it but the women of the village that go about —tired and faint with effort half the time themselves—from house to house, sitting with the sick, giving chance to the weary to rest, watching all night with aching eyes and half-breaking backs, until recovery or the end comes, helping out with funeral or with convalescence, and never thinking of it all afterward as anything but a natural thing to do, and which, if their turn comes, will be done, for them again by other women To whom is it, when in serious trouble, or in the petty vexations which at their time seem serious, that the young woman goes with her tale for counsel or for help, but some quiet older woman, from whom she never fails to receive active assistance? Money men may give—it is much the easiest thing to give usually—but sympathy and assurance and comfort she gets from her own kind, women rarely, in comparison, having money of their own to give; but the mother remembers her daughter, the spinster remembers her youth, the young woman throws herself into the identity of the other young woman, and each does all she can. It is true, again, that women understand women better than men do. That cannot be helped, for they have the touchstone of similar natures, trials, joys, and experiences, and this may make them more critical, as they are already exacting; but criticism and exactingness both vanish before neces

sity: let the other woman's need rise clear

ly on their vision, and the ministering angel in their nature ruffles all the plumes of her pinions in haste to carry succor. In spite of what satirists and sciolists may have to say on the matter, so far as our own view has extended we have always seen one woman ready to be the friend of another when she has once been plainly given to understand that her friendship is required and will be of service, and we should advise no young girl, no young wife, nor woman of maturer years, to seek aid and friendship, on any occasion when she finds real need of those commodities, from one of the other sex, if there is a good and gentle woman within her reach. The mother that is in every woman, that is with her from the day before her first doll came, and will be with her after her last grandbaby has done with dolls, rises at appeal, brings her emotions into play, and all her resources with them, enlists all her energies, and makes her ready to use every effort for the other woman, whether in sore distress or just in teasing trouble. If she feels that vice must not be smiled on, that malice must be checked, that paths which lead to death must be made hard to tread, shall she be kinder than or superior to that nature which, in visiting the sins of the fathers upon the children as a law of heredity, does the same thing? Yet where this mother of pity is not to be found in a woman on righteous call, and she neither feels nor responds to the cry of

trouble in another, then that person may be . a woman fair enough in outward seeming,

but in her heart she is no woman at all.


HERE are some people in whom the critical faculty is more highly developed than almost any other. They are always on the alert to see the defects and weaknesses in anything before the beauties, and they make haste to point them out. They are nothing if not critical; they are afraid to praise lest they should seem to be too easily pleased, and not cultured enough to perceive shortcomings. They do not confine themselves to the criticism of public measures, of literature and art; their neatest and most effective work is inspired by the manners and appearance of those whom they meet, their personal friends, their neighbors, their guests. It is perhaps true that but for criticism we might not progress, we might become satisfied with our status, and make no further effort to improve. The critic gives us the spur, obliges us to ask ourselves if what he says of us may not be more or less true; for when we mention the critic do we mean any other than he who selects our faults as his subject Do we ever speak of those who regard us favorably by the same name? And perhaps the critic was sent into the world for this very purpose, to save us from being too well satisfied with mediocrity, from selfconceit; and having a mission to perform, should not be unkindly received; perhaps we should even accept his criticisms, as we take bitters for our stomachs' sake, or blis

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the castor-oil plant or the senna was created in vain; it is not the fault of nature that they are nauseous and unacceptable. If it were not for the critic, very likely we should grow to believe ourselves giants and genii, when we really are only pigmies and imitators. When we have become inflated by our self-conceit till we fancy that we fill space, his services are of the highest value; and although we may resent his interference, and would sooner die than acknowledge his services, the fact that he lives and

flourishes and pursues his business, in spite

of his unpopularity, attests his usefulness. At the same time, “his life is not a happy one.” He says his say, reminds us that we are not grammatical, that we are not origimal, that we have not ornamented or furInished our houses according to the canon of good taste, that we do not order our wardrobes asthetically, or cultivate our minds symmetrically; he teaches us that there are higher ideals than our own; and yet we laugh in his face, and believe that he has no capacity for appreciation.


YTYHEODORE PARKER used to exasperate his

friends, thirty or forty years ago, by devoting his summer vacations, not to rest, but to the study of the Russian language. This he justified on the ground that we had no right to remain in

utter ignorance of the vocabulary of a nation of

sixty million people. At that time there was among English-speaking persons a complete ignorance of Russian literature, except as this darkness was broken by a little volume translated by Sir John Bowring from the Russian poets. Nobody could possibly have foreseen a period when France, England, and America should all turn to this neglected region for a new inspiration; when the most fastidious literary men of the most fastidious literary centre in the Old World should recognize Tourguénieff not only as their peer, but as their chief; and the foremost novelist of the New World should place Tolstoi at the head of all writers of fiction, living or dead. Never perhaps was so great a fame won in so short a time through the medium of translations only. The number of those who actually read Russian, though greater than in Theodore Parker's day, is still almost absurdly small, and not rapidly increasing. . During the short-lived enthusiasm for Fredrika Bremer's novels, forty years ago, a good many perions learned Swedish in order to read them in the original; but even those most eager to read the Russian writers rarely attack

them in their own tongue, being content to receive.

them often through a double dilution, first in French and then in English. What is to be the end of the new enthusiasm; is it to pass wholly away, like the zeal for Miss Bremer's books, or are these writers to constitute a permanent force. in literature? So long as Tourguénieff's was the only voice that reached us, there was an impression of something unique and individual; he seemed to triumph in spite of Russia, not as her representative; and his long self-banishment to Paris left it in doubt whether he might not be as much French as Russian. His singularly noble and charming personality added greatly to this impression, at least for those who had met him in private, of whom I had the felicity to be one. To such persons it was useless, for a time, to talk of “the Russians”; for them there was but one Russian, and he was only such by birth, not residence. Then came the extraordinary phenomenon of Tolstoi, and even the most reluctant were convinced that there must be something in the blood and in the brain of the dimly seen and

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and penetrating work. Without going so far as to reaffirm Mr. Howells's exaltation of these writers above all others —I do not know them so well as he, nor is my opinion entitled to as much weight—I can certainly side with him much better than with another careful and conscientious writer, Mr. Maurice Thompson, who denounces them collectively as immoral. For-one, I believe in purity of fiction, and do not sigh in the least after the unrestricted freedom of utterance for which some of our younger writers seem to long. There are two ways in which an author can be pernicious— by a bad moral, or by licentiousness of detail. Provided neither of these errors is committed, the mere choice of illicit love as a theme does not make a book inadmissible, else must the Scarlet Letter be condemned. Of all stories of this description Tolstoi has written the most powerful, the most merciless; there is not a moment when the reader does not foresee a tragedy at the end of the path on which the guilty lovers enter; nor is there any voluptuousness of description to beguile the senses. The very fact that these two persons have noble traits only strengthens the moral; their downfall and its retribution are such as would be encountered only by persons capable of higher things; and after they have once gone

wrong, the deceived husband, far inferior to them

by nature, becomes their superior by his action. Nor is the retribution an external accident, but is worked out by the very essentials of the sin. It is a book which in its wholeness is a tremendous warning against wrong-doing, not an incitement

to it. And throughout the Russian novelists, so far as I have seen, although there is sometimes a greater freedom of allusion than is customary among ourselves, it is in the direction not merely of truth to nature, but of stern ethics, with habitual absence of the culrent French taste for indecent description. But what seems most surprising in current criticism is the disposition to claim the Russian writers as exponents of what is now called realism. Surely they are realists only in the sense in which George Eliot was one—with the most careful accuracy of description and the profoundest portraiture of character, but always preserving a perspective, always subordinating the little to the great. There is no trace in them of that maxim laid down by Mr. Howells in his Wed. ding Journey, perhaps in an unguarded moment, that “the sincere observer of man will not desire to look upon his heroic or occasional phases.” All the power of War and Peace turns upon the heroic phases which are the backbone of its strength, while no one else has so well delineated the confusion, the incoherence, the delay and tedium, which combine with the heroism to make up war. But if Tolstoi had given these “habitual moods of vacancy and tiresomeness” alone—to quote again from Howells—he would not have achieved success. As it stands, he has written not merely the greatest of military novels, but we might almost say the only one. And with whatever modifications of praise or censure, it must be admitted that these strong Russian writers—they always speak, be it observed, of “European” as meaning something distinct from “Russian”—have come into literature like the giant that rose suddenly from the fisherman's urn ; something vast, powerful, unexpected. Their men and women seem more alive, more vascular, more endowed with veins and with muscles, than any other current cre. ations; and the very fact that they have behind them the vast, gloomy, hopeless, helpless Russia—this but enhances the power of their pictures. A friend of mine, about to enter the Russian territory, stopped at a post-house on the border, whose landlord incidentally stated that he had never crossed the line. On being asked the reason, he said that he had always noticed that those who were coming out of Russia looked happy, while those about to enter looked anxious, and he thought he would stay where he was well off. But for those who once enter the enchanted land of Russian fiction, it is not so easy to get out again. T. W. H.


OW not to do it is one of the first things for the average chamber-maid to learn. If the mistress cannot instruct her maid-servant in the care of bedrooms by precept, let her call example to her aid, and with her own hands bring the chamber to a proper state. One showing will not suffice. Even with conscientious domestics close watch is necessary to prevent neglect. . To begin, then, the maid must be informed that because bed-making is a daily recurring duty is no cause for its being slurred over or hurried through. Rather is it a demand for added attention. She must learn that the right way to make a bed is not to straighten the under sheet with a few vigorous twitches, bring up the other covers with an energetic sweep of the arm, smooth up the spread, and adorn the completed work with a pair of gorgeous pillow-shams pinned on over mussed or musty pillows. Nor can the neatness of the rest of the chamber be achieved by half a dozen flirts of a feather duster, the filling of the pitcher with fresh water, and the emptying the slops. Yet this is all that many bedrooms receive even from the girl who engages herself as a “professed chamber-maid.” One may possibly tolerate such treatment in a hotel or boardinghouse, but in one's home better things may surely be expected. The first item of the bed-making is demanded from the occupant of the couch. Her duty it is, immediately upon rising, to throw back the covers over the foot of the bed on to a couple of chairs placed there for that purpose. They, should never be tossed in a heap on the floor to gather dust from the carpet or matting. The mattress should then be half turned, that the air may get at both sides of it, and the windows opened at top and bottom, admitting a sluice of the fresh outer atmosphere. Even in the coldest weather this should be done for a few minutes, while in summer the bed should stand uncovered for at least an hour before making. The habit of leaving one's room in perfect order when one goes to breakfast is not commendable as far as the bed is concerned. The other rearrangement necessary may be done then, but the couch should be left stripped until the unpleasant vapors generated by the body during the night have been dispersed and the bed thoroughly sweetened. When the bed is made, the mattress should be laid with the side above that was below the night before. Over this comes the mattress cover of unbleached muslin, with its filling of a single layer of cotton batting. This must be drawn very closely over the mattress, and snugly tucked in at the sides, top, and bottom. The under sheet can hardly be pulled too tightly. this smooth drawing and firm binding of the bed by the covers depends the symmetry of the whole. Not a wrinkle must be suffered to show. What seems but a slight fold in sheet or blanket is a serious blemish as outlined under the white spread. The ordinary house-maid is with difficulty deterred from putting on the blankets upside down. TBy what process of the uncultured mind the idea is evolved that the opening should be at the bottom rather than at the top it would be hard to

say. The spread that covers all may be of plain



neatly just below this, and the upper sheet folded back over it. By this method the spread may be taken off at night, and the top of the sheet left undisturbed to protect the sleeper's face from contact with the unpleasant woolliness of the blankets. Nor should the lower sheet serve as an excuse for dispensing with a bolster-slip. This is as necessary to comfort as are pillow-slips, and should never be omitted. In old Virginia a “bed-stick” was considered an essential. A little longer than the couch was wide, it was used to smooth up the coverings from the foot to the head. A broomstick answers the purpose tolerably, and aids in producing a trimness of finish otherwise hard to attain. On the question of shams there are varying opinions. They are ornamental, but troublesome, and only serve, so say some, to conceal untidiness. Many house-keepers prefer to keep two pairs of pillow-cases and two bolster-slips in use, employing one set for day and the other for night, while other women have day pillows and night pillows, either laying the latter on the foot of the bed in the daytime, or keeping them out of sight in a closet. If shams are used, however, the sheet sham is as valuable as those for the pillows, concealing the top of the sheet when it has become tumbled. The sheets, by-the-way, should be long enough to be drawn up over the shoulders of the occupant of the bed. Cause for acute discomfort is found in short sheets that cannot be pulled up to the chin without uncovering the feet. Sheets should be of a length that will permit of their being tucked in well at the foot of the bed, and yet allow enough to turn back six inches at the top over the blankets. The rest of the chamber should be submitted to the same close attention that has been bestowed upon the bed. The wash-stand requires especial care. The pitchers must be washed and wiped out every morning to prevent an accumulation of sediment and consequent stain. The bowl must be scrubbed clean of the grease that gathers on the inside of it, and the soap-dish washed—the latter a rare action among house-maids. The receptacles for slops should be scalded out with boiling water and washing soda or household ammonia, and set in the sun uncovered for an hour or two. The top of the wash-stand should be spread with a cloth, towel, or bamboo mat. The towels, which should have been left opened out until dry by those who used them, should be folded neatly and hung in their places on the rack. A dust-pan and brush or a carpet-sweeper will be required nearly every morning in a sleepingroom. The dust must be brushed from the corners, and the rugs shaken from the window. If a thorough sweeping is required, all articles that cannot be carried from the room should be protected by cheese-cloth sweeping sheets. In dusting, a cheese-cloth duster should be used, and all bric-à-brac and furniture carefully wiped. Loose hairs, scraps of paper, etc., should be removed from the bureau, and the cover of this shaken and replaced. No pieces of clothing should be left lying about the room. Each chamber closet should have a shoe-bag hung on the inside of the door. Nothing detracts more from the tidiness of a room than the sight of boots and slippers scattered about the floor. By the bureau or in the closet should hang a small laundry-bag for soiled handkerchiefs, collars, and cuffs. Little brass screw-hooks fastened here and there for whisk-broom, catch-all, hand-glass, button-hook, and other toilette implements that can be hung up out of the way will also prove almost indispensable. by the wash-stand will hold sponges, sponge-bags, and wash-cloths. If there are draperies in a bedroom they should be well shaken each morning while the windows are open, to rid them of possible lurking disease germs. When the room is swept, it is well to unhook the curtains from the rings and give them an air and sun bath of half an hour. - The chamber-maid should be instructed to go to each chamber in the evening, strip the bed and turn the covers half down, close the blinds, bring in fresh water, and if necessary replenish the stock of towels. The mistress will find an occasional glance at the work not amiss.

For rough goods are serges with large blanket plaids, and Cheviots with fine lines and crossbars of vague, indefinite coloring prettily blended. The plaids will be used by young women for skirts and draperies with plain bodices, and will also serve for long outside wraps. The smaller figured Cheviots are beautifully made up by French and English designers with lapped full surplice bodices and velvet plastrons; the skirts are plain on the foundation, but voluminous with drapery.


Fancy woollens combined with plain twilled wools make up the greater part of the French importations, two and a half to three yards of fancy goods of single width being added to eight yards of the plain goods, which is double width; the figured stuff represents a lower skirt disclosed almost to the belt in one or two places by the very long drapery of the plain fabric, and is also used for decorating the plain bodice. Cord stripes, picot stripes, and velvet stripes, with others like tufting and in loops, are clustered on smooth grounds of the stylish Gobelin blue, clear dark green, and old-rose wools. In the new reds no garnet and no cardinal tints are seen, but there is great variety in the blood red shades, and in the vieux rose, the dahlia, and the mahogany tints, which French modistes assert can be worn equally well by blondes and brunettes.


The Jacquard looms make large flowered velvet stripes on satin and wool grounds for com

bining with plain twills in the way just noted.

Lily, rose, and leaf designs form the stylish stripes, while for separate figures of velvet there are great moons, blocks, pastilles, diamonds, and almond shapes distributed about on surfaces of the same color. The Pompadour designs of flowerets and garlands of natural colors sunken in velvet pile are imported for combining with plain stuffs. Plain stripes of velvet are seen in various widths alternating with wool stripes of the same color and of contrasting colors. Perhaps the handsomest of all the contrasting fabrics are the velours écossais, or large plaids of velvet with twilled silk bars of contrasting colors on dark wool grounds. Some of these plaids are so large that the inside blocks of wool are six inches square. These come in monotone, or in many colors of the richest hues, or in two prettily contrasting colors, such as blue with brown, red with green, gray with blue, etc. An entire skirt of the plaid will be worn with a polonaise of plain twilled wool, or with pointed draperies and basque of wool.


Designs like those of Soutache braiding are woven in raised uncut velvet figures all over wool surfaces; these are in two tones of one color, or in black on any colored ground. This fabric is used for bodices to wear with different skirts, also for the entire lower skirt with a plain overskirt, and for making wraps. The old-fashioned garments that are braided all over are to be copied this season both in ladies' cloths and in cashIneteS.


There are no marked changes seen in the earliest importations of French dresses for autumn; they retain the long-waisted bodices, long full draperies, and plain lower skirt, all novel features being in the small details of drapery and trimming. Another attempt will be made to popularize the polonaises which were adopted by large women last season. Wool costumes will be de rigueur for the street, not only in plain tailor gowns, but in the more fanciful wool fabrics described above, with velvet stripes, plaid velvet, and soutache woven designs. Repped silks and moirés, both plain and striped, will be used for entire dresses and in combination with velvet.


The new basques are noticeable for their elaborate front trimmings, many of them being draped full from the shoulders down, even though made of heavy cloth or other thick fabric. The full surplice effect is used even when there is a vest or plastron, and the Greek drapery coming from the right shoulder to the left side of the waist is seen on supple woollens, on silks, and on velvets. It is no unusual thing to see cloth or camel'shair basques with three large pleats on each shoulder tapering to the merest edge of folds at the waist line, with the space filled in with a gathered or pleated silk vest, or with one of velvet or plush, quite, smooth, but richly embroidered or decorated with passementerie. Shirred

cloth fronts are also made with clusters of gathers at the top and at the waist line, yet are not

clumsy, as they are well held in shape by points and a V-shaped vest of steel or silver cord passementerie; there are also yoke fronts of the heaviest velvet with the wool gathered on the lower edge. Some pretty bodices without vests are

gathered all across the top of the front, on each shoulder, and below the collar, and this fulness is held below by a pointed girdle that shapes the end of the bodice. The dress-coat collar rolled low beside a vest is seen on French costumes as well as on English gowns and jackets, and promises to be popular, because its graceful outlines can be varied to suit both slender and stout figures.

Wests of silk are draped in diagonal folds in the way thinner silks were used during the summer. Velvet, however, remains the favorite material for the vest and standing collar, or at least for the front of the collar, while the back is of wool like the basque. Oddly shaped revers are made of the dress goods sometimes by lapping it in a single three-cornered shape on the left at the top, and again by turning it back on the right side. A simple design for Cheviot or cloth basques has the fronts nearly meeting over a band of velvet, and held together by ball buttons attached to the ends of bits of soutache an inch and a quarter in length, passed through buttonholes, a row of button-holes being worked along each edge of the fronts. This is prettily shown on a brown, red, and blue mixed Cheviot over a brown velvet band, with brown buttons and soutache; the postilion back has buttons and holes for its trimming, and the cuffs of the coat sleeves have ten or twelve buttons in pairs up the outer seam. The back of basques is finished by each of the four forms being doubled below the waist line, shaped into leaf points, faced with a contrasting material, and edged with braid. In many dresses the back drapery of the skirt is hooked up on the middle forms of the basque, which slopes out gradually over the tournure. The pointed girdles that trim the front sometimes extend only to the darts, but are most becoming when reaching back to the under-arm seams. Passementerie ornaments form this girdle on rich dresses, while others are merely of the velvet used in combination, or of the striped fabric seen in the skirt. Coat sleeves of easy-fitting shape, with very simple cuffs, are on dresses of thick stuffs. Small round crocheted and basketwoven buttons fasten French dresses, with sometimes buttons of much larger size set about for ornament only, or perhaps to hold a single revers, or to define the waist.


Plain lower skirts bordered with trimming or made of figured stuffs in stripes or bars are mounted quite full on a gored foundation, giving the effect of a full round gathered skirt wherever disclosed by the drapery. The border is placed directly at the foot, and may extend in one or two rows up one side or up both sides to the belt; this border is of velvet, or else of wide galloon or of open Soutache braiding, and sometimes of both velvet and soutache. When silk or moiré is used for the lower skirt it may be simply bordered with velvet, or it may have pleats the whole

length of the parts not covered by drapery. At

present the draperies most seen are very long in front and back, touching the bottom of the dress there, and are either omitted altogether across the sides, or else are exceedingly short on the hips. The long back draperies are nearly straight, but are laid in deeply folded pleats, and are made bouffant by cushions and steels like those now worn. Many foundation skirts have two steels quite near together crossing the back just below the belt (perhaps four or five inches below it), and this gives an ample tournure without using a hair-cushion bustle; three other steels are then placed across further down the back breadths. The gores of the foundation skirt are not changed in shape. Foot-pleatings are little used on heavy skirts, and if used must not be visible.


Polonaises of cloth over full skirts of velvet, or of striped silk and velvet, or else of lighter cloth bordered with velvet, are shown from various French modistes. These polonaises outline the long waist severely, with all fulness of the skirt added very far below the hips. Sometimes the front of the waist is shirred next a vest, while in other designs it is lapped far to the left side. In some instances the drapery touches the foot in front and back, and is scarcely longer than a basque on the sides, while other polonaises have a short panier on the left hip, and a long apron front with straight pleats on the right side. This one-sided drapery is prettily seen in a brown cloth polonaise which discloses nearly the whole left side of its skirt of wide brown velvet stripes alternating with steel-colored Bengaline stripes. The front of the polonaise has points and a vest of steel galloon holding its shirrings in place. The striped skirt is made of five straight breadths of the single-width material, simply hemmed and Iuounted on a foundation skirt. Demi-polonaises have basque fronts and sides, with the polonaise drapery confined to the middle forms of the back, where it falls over a cushion attached to the pointed ends of these forms, and consists of four straight gathered breadths of moiré of single width, or of two breadths of cloth of double fold; the skirt for such an over-dress is perfectly plain in front and on the sides. An illustration of this model is of Gobelin blue moiré antique with paler blue satin stripes; the basque front is shirred to the shoulder seams and folded over the chest in three pleats graduated to the merest line at the pointed waist; the V-shaped space at the top is filled in with velvet, and there is a velvet girdle pointed below; the high collar and narrow cuffs are of velvet. A wide panel of velvet is down the front of the skirt, a breadth of moiré is each side of this panel, and other panels of velvet are next this moiré breadth; the back of the polonaise then drapes the remainder of the skirt.

For information received thanks are due Messrs. ARNOLD, CoNSTABLE, & Co.; Lord & TAYLOR; LE BouTILLIER BROTHERs; and STERN BROTHERs.

for the station. Over the fields and through the


village streets he ran, while pedestrians cleared the way for him, and corner loafers gave him a wide berth. Just at this time there was a reward of fifty dollars out for the capture of an escaped lunatie, and one villager bolder than the rest gave chase, and captured Professor SEY* who only after much explanation was set ree. —Miss MARY ANDERson is coming home for a season after she has played her engagement at the Lyceum Theatre, London. Her step-father denies all stories of her approaching marriage, and says also that there is no truth in the report that she intends to make her home in England. It is said by those who know her best that Miss ANDERSON is constantly striving to improve as an actress, and that she is always studying, and ever ready to take a hint. –Camden, New Jersey, is the Gretna Green of Pennsylvania, and the Rev. John T. Dobbins is the clergyman with the largest patronage. For two years Dr. Dobbins has averaged over 175 weddings a month, and his fees since January, 1886, have amounted to $25,000; so it is said. —CARNEGIE, PhIPPs, & Co., of the famous Pittsburgh iron-works, will not allow any employés of their mills to own-liquor saloons. Other mills are following this example. Now if they could only keep their employes from patronizing Suloons, they would be doing a good work indeed. —The Countess CASA MIRANDA, CHRISTINE NILSSON's mother-in-law, is said to be one hundred years old. She was the governess of Queen MERCE DES and of the Countess of Paris. Her son, who married Madame NILsson, has been described as the handsomest man in Spain. Like the average Spaniard, Count CASA MirAN dA is of dark complexion, has a mass of black hair, a grizzled mustaché, and wears spectacles. —The Duke of Westminster is brother-in law to his own daughter, his second wife's brother having married his daughter. The present Duchess is rather pretty, small, and neither dark nor fair, but her picture at Grosvenor House, painted by MILLAis, is flattered to a degree that will give posterity a very favorable motion of her beauty. —Colt NELIUS WANDERBILT works harder than most very poor men. He is what might be called the head of finance of the VANDERB11,T system, chairman of the Board of Directors of the Central and Harlem, and deep in responsibility on the other lines. He is forty years old, and worth about $75,000,000. When he was a boy his father got liiin a clerkship in the Shoe and Leather Bank. He refused a tour of Europe then because it would take him from his desk, and he is just as assiduous now—so much so that his friends fear he is hurting himself. –An accomplished amateur photographer has a set of rough Manila albums, each one devoted to one of his children. The first page shows the baby a day old, and not a month passes without a picture of that child or some of its surroundings—the nursery, the house, its books, and playthings... On , some pages are family groups in which the child figures. Beneath each picture is written the date, and the album will constitute a curious record for the future. —CARL ROSA, in a private letter to a friend in New York, has expressed his willingness to give a season of English opera in the United States


if a committee is formed to guarantee his ex

penses. There are few managers who would not visit us on the same terms. —The Empress of Austria, who is said to be

the finest lady rider in Europe, is a very tall wo

man with a remarkably small waist. At a little distance, owing to her case of carriage and springy gait, she might be taken for a young woman. A closer inspection shows the lines in her face. Her dark brown hair is usually done up in tight braids at the back. Her complexion, from constant exposure, is as brown as that of a sailor. —Mr. E. BERRY WALL, who bears the distinguishing title of “ King of the Dudes,” was ordercd off the floor of the ballroom of the Grand Union Hotel, Saratoga, recently, because the door-keeper insisted that he was not in full dress. Mr. WALL wore the tailless dress-coat so popular in England for summer wear, but which was new to the attendant, who regarded it as little more than a waiter's jacket, and insisted upon the claw-hammer of tradition. —REBECCA BEATH, a Detroit girl of fifteen years of age, deserves great praise for heroic conduct. She was sailing on the lake with her parents and three of her brothers and sisters, a few days ago, when a squall struck the boat and cap: sized it. REBECCA was the only one who did not lose her presence of mind. She swam about the boat, and first assisted her mother to a hold on the keel; then she helped the children to a place of safety, and by this time the mother had slipped from the boat and sunk. BEBECCA dived for her and brought her up. A boat came to their rescue, but it was overloaded, and to make room for the others, REBEcoA jumped out and swam to the upturned boat, saying: “Come back for me. I am all right.”


Design for Curtain or Portière.

HIS design for a curtain is of rare beauty, and both color and execution are perfect in their way, the effect of the finished work being so harmonious and graceful that one would never tire of it. The material is deep peacock blue cloth, very soft and thick.

The design of the upper portion is worked solidly, the leaves in shaded green crewels and the flowers in shaded gold silk. Both flowers and leaves are surrounded by an outline of dark blue, darker than the color of the ground, and this serves to throw up the design; the daffodils at the sides are also solidly worked, the flowers being in paler shades of gold than the sunflowers. The top of the ground line is heavily outlined with feather stitch in green crewels, filled in here and there with tufts of grass, and the sky lines which powder the whole are in shades of pale gold silk.

The dado of the curtain has a heavy outline of bronze crewel, the veins of the leaves, and indeed the veins throughout the whole design, being solidly worked with the same shade of brown.

The narrow borders surrounding the curtain are embroidered in shades of gold silk. Thus the coloring is an infinite variety of green and gold shades, which are harmonized with wonderful skill. The great sections of conventional sunflowers at the corners of the dado carry on the color in the lower part of the curtain. This is one of the specimens of work by which the Royal School of Art Needle-Work keeps up its prestige as a leader and teacher of decorative art,

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a slip stitch. 1st row.—For a scallop 9 chain, pass 1, take a loop
half an inch long through each of the other 8, a loop through

needle and work off this loop, pass 2, a double crochet on the next;
repeat. 2d row.—Turn the scallops down on the outside; around
the last stitch taken up in a scallop work a long single (to make

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DESIGN FOR CURTAIN OR PORTIERE.—From the South KENsisgros Royal School of ART NEEDLE-WoRk.

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Some Simple Things.

the stitch before them, pull a loop through all the loops on the To: are a few of the plainest actions of house-keeping life

which people seem to think unnecessary to teach their young girls, it being reckoned a stupidity not to have taken such infor. mation and practice in by the pores. If every young girl were

taught how to make good clear coffee, the roily black concoction to be found in most restaurants would not, at any rate, be found in most houses, although it is to be urged that bricks cannot be made without straw, and if one wants a good cup of coffee it must be made of coffee, and that without a sparing hand either in the original quantity or in the boiling over of the “grounds.” Another instance is to be found in the matter of washing flannels. Each house-keeper seems to have a different rule from her neighbor's for this work, and it appears to be hit or miss with most of them as to whether the woollen article shall come out of the ordeal milled up, shortened, narrowed, shrunken out of shape, or with some at least of its original pliant softness left in it. Yet there must be one fixed way for washing flannels so that they shall be nice and delicate still after unlimited wearing and washing, and a house-keeper neglects her duty if she does not find it out and acquaint her young daughter with it. Another thing left to be learned by common-sense is sweeping; for it is ten to one that the girl, who should have been taught the correct way, when she has to sweep herself knows nothing of the wrongs or rights of it, stands in front of her broom, and flourishes the weapon about so as to raise more dust than was visible before, doing more harm than good, entirely ignorant of the merits of the short sharp stroke, and of the fact that sweeping can wear out carpets even faster than daily wear can do it, and that wiping with a slightly dampened cloth is often better than sweeping, or that a few drops of ammonia in the dampness sometimes makes an old carpet as good as new for the time being. Wiping with a cloth, however, is another neglected art, the villanous but handy feather duster having taken the heart of the house-maid by storm—the feather duster which only sets so much dust in motion to circulate and fall back; and the young house-keeper must herself know better if she would mend the abuse, and have the feather duster used only in spots inaccessible to the wiping cloth. Sound knowledge and usage concerning things like these would prevent a great deal of worry and vexation, and where they exist the husband will have no excuse for going out of his home to get a refreshing cup of coffee; he will not bring tears of irritation and mortification to the eyes of his wife while struggling to get into his flannels; and she herself will not see her carpets ground out and her books and pretty treasures tarnished with dust through improper sweeping and its sequelae.

A Peep at Fashions. in Java.

HE dress of Javanese women and children is uniformly of bright-hued calicoes, fresh and clean, their head-covering a gayly lacquered bamboo hat of native manufacture. Every woman must have elaborate inlaid silver breastpins with which to fasten her loose upper robes. Some bamboo hats are exquisite specimens of plaiting; the

finest qualities are made of carefully prepared strips of bamboo, costing in Bantam but a mere trifle, while in Paris they are retailed at a profit of nearly one thousand per cent. as true Panama hats. An English tourist tells us that he wore one of these Bantamese men's hats for three years steadily, and then it was .



ETWEEN the foot of the towering Cameroons Mountains, the loftiest peak of which Sir Richard BURTON ascended in 1861, and the third degree of north latitude, six rivers of considerable volume pour their waters into the delta of the Cameroons. The Cameroons River that gives its name to the bay is not larger than its sister streams, but surpasses them all in importance as the great waterway of the district and the centre of the Cameroons trade. Three so-called towns—King Acqua's Town, King Bell's Town, and Dido Town—lie on its banks, where its breadth is about 1400 yards from shore to shore. The scenery as it presents itself to the traveller who has reached these trading stations is not espe

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cially beautiful or varied. The banks of the river are yellowishbrown, and on them stand the brown thatched cottages of the natives, surrounded by forest and dense brushwood. The flora is luxuriant, but does not resemble that of the Cameroons Mountains; mangoes, oil-palms, cocoa-palms, and the like, spring up from the wide-stretching thickets of underwood, which are chiefly formed of prickly shrubs. Much of the land is cultivated, for the population is large; and the natives raise crops of bananas, yams, mandioc, and varieties of pumpkins, and herds of goats, pigs, and a small breed of cows that give little or no milk. To the traders and the missionaries, the only white men who reside permanently here, life is monotonous, and as limited as life on board ship; horses are unknown, and walking impossible, and what little social inter

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course there is is carried on between the factories on land and the hulks in the river by means of row-boats. Under such circumstances life becomes a burden, and there is also the constant danger of the fever, which no one escapes.

In 1884 the German government assumed the protectorate of the whole Cameroons country between the French colony of Gaboon and the British Oil River territory—a proceeding which caused considerable annoyance to the English government, as the natives had for the previous five years been asking for English protection, to which petition Lord GRANVILLE had neglected to return an answer, until the time when, the German protectorate being an accomplished fact, England realized that her negligence had cost her a colony.

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