1
A-SINGER’S ROMANCE.
The \Varwicl: -.~:'._reet flats were al-
wavs dismal. On a bright day they
looked more gloomy and gr‘my than
ever: and when the sun beat down
strong and yellow upon the dull red
bricks it seemed to be crushing out the
life and stitliig the breath of the hu-
man beings who fought. and struggled
and laughed and wept insine.
In one of the flats a woman who
was little more than a girl wandered
listlessly backward and forward, or
strummed with weary effort upon her
little piano. There was a gnaw-
ing fear in her thoughts—at jar-
ring anxiety that refused to be
stilled. She had seen Ralph,
her iusbantl, growing paler and
thinner day after day; she had notice;
the weariness grow in his eyes, the
tired look that was fast becoming ha-
bitual to his face, and she was afraid.
‘Vhat of, she scarcely dared own even
to herself; but she knew that llalph
was wet-king too hard, and that the
summer heat was undermining his
strength.
She sat down presently to practice.
Somehow today her [voice sounded
clearer and stronger than it had ever
done before. The keys seemed to fall
with scarcely an effort between her
fingers, and she found herself singing
an old song. .
Suddenly an idea occurred to her.
She sprang up, with a scarlet flush on
her cheeks, and with a sudden bright-
ening in her eyes.
’ A few minutes later she was mak-
ing her way rapidly through the nar»
row, rocking street, and out into the
broader thoroughfare beyond.
She stopped before a house bearing
a brass plate, and then the flush in
her cheeks began to fade away. She
hesitated a moment before she rang
the bell, and then, in her nervousness,
gave such a peal that the Professor,
plumb-tiring peacefully inside, started
up ail'right.
“.‘iclz, I-Iimmel!” he remarked. “Vas
is if?"
The reply came in the form of a
rmatly dressed servant. who au-
noanced that a young lady was wait-
ing to see him, and the Professor’s cu-
I:
id
~riosity overcoming his usual dignity
of manner, he gave orders that the
young lady should be admitted.
Nellie came in nervously. She
glanced at the big, bearded man in
front of her, and wished she had not
been so hasty.
When she spoke. all her nicely word-
ed sentences, all here carefully calcu-_
fated eloquence vanished, and she
could only stammer helplessly:
.“I-I wanted 2 ask you,” she began,
"to—test my voic.
The Professor smiled—a grim, sig-
nificant smile—wand she felt in very
ruth that she was boarding a lion in
his den. .,
"Well. well,” he said at last, not un-
kindly, "let us see. Let me hear you
sing.”
She sat down nervously to the piano.
The keys were indistinguishable be-
fore her eyes. and her fingers trem-
bled'weakiy. For a moment her voice
was beyond her control. She felt in-
capable of steadying it, and she could
not remember a word to sing.
Then she suddenly caught sight of a
flung called “Daddy” lying upon the
piano, and she took it up and began to
they. -
She .sang through the first verse
with all the exquisite pathos of which
Irer voice was capable. it rang out
Mfr and clear across the room, and
the Profesor almost fancied he
dreamed.
lle woke with a start, to find that
site had stopped and was putting back
the music.
"Again,” he said ,harshly.
again!” ,
She sang it through once more; and
when she looked around, the Profesor
was staring out of the window and
the sight of his back turned toward
her sent a chill to her-heart.
"I was afraid I should be a. failure,”
she said with a half sob, taking her
gloves. “1 am sorry—I—~”
He turned around at the sound of
her voice. She did not know that his
eyes Were full of tears, and that the
song had conjured up recollections of
of his dead wife.
“Sing it
“Scales!” he saiid abruptly. And
Nellie w int back obediently to the
piano.
When she had finished, he came over
himself and put'her through a num-
ber of exercises. He tested her voice
in every possible way. He took infi-
nite pains with her—such pains that
would have considerably astonished
some of his pupils if they could have
heard—and when she had finished, he
looked up interestedly into her face.
“Your voice has been well trained.”
was all he remarked.
"I had a good master,” said Nellie,
with the chill growing at her heart,
“and I have always kept. up my prac-
tice. l have practised every day since
I have been married.”
"Good, good!” said the Profesor sud<
denly. “Very good; and if something
should turn up, will you take it at
once?”
Nellie caught herbre-ath with a gasp
of astonishment.
"Take it!” she cried. “Then—then
you do think—you think I can earn
some money?” "
“i think,” said the Professor. forget-
ting his dignity and his English, with
a sudden frantic gesture. “I think
you haf a peautiful voice—a very
. peautiful voice!”
That afternoon Nellie waited impa-
‘ticntly for Ralph to come back from
rehearsal. She was burning to tell
hint the news, and to get his
sion to look out for an engage-went.
The l‘rofersr-mr had spelt”; so favor"
aid}; of her voiw-—-Ii;l<‘l givwzi bar- so
':.‘!‘-.' '41:: ‘,\ J
i. l-("! {FIIL‘UIEI‘IE
titled with th.
pcrmis-‘
She lay back luxuriously in her easy
chair and dreamed golden dreams.
And the summer afternoon waned
and passedfand still Ralph did not
come. She sat up listening for his
footsteps. Somebody was making:
such a noise on the stairs ~ outside
that she could hear nothing. Men—
heavy—booted men—seemed to be
tramping up with some heavy burden.
Suddenly they stopped—stopped out-
side her door; and then there was an
ominous silence. The next moment
there came a knock, and a policeman
looked in.
Nellie started up with a cry.
The policeman came forward and
tried to keep her back. Some other
men followed him. There seemed to
be quite a lot of men crowding into
her little room, but she. could see none
of them distinctly—only one form that
lay stretched unconscious on a shutter
and over that form she bent, with a
terribly white face, and stared wildly
at the narrow stream of red blood that
was oozing slowly from her husband‘s
colorless lips.
There was no hope!
The doctor said so, but Nellie refused
to believe it; and she sat by the bed-
side, looking eagerly into her hus-
band’s colorless face, and trying to
find some sign of hope—in vain. This
very day he might die or live, and the
doctor had said that she must prepare
for the worse. It was impossible—she
could not, she would not, believe that
Ralph might die.
As she sat there the nurse entered
and brought her a letter. Nellie looked
at it indifferently. What did letters
matter now? She took it in her tremb-
ling hands and tore it open wearily.
As she read a sudden red flush sprang
into her cheeks and a sharp light
flashed into her eyes. She read on
confusedly.
Mme. Lucille, the Professor wrote.
was unable to sing in the Albert Hall
that night, and she, Nellie Underwood,
was to take her place.
She looked at Ralph—ill, peraaps dy-
ing—on the bed, and then she turned
back to the letter. IIer chance had
come at last! The chance that she had
waited for so eagerly had come at last
like. a wonderful miracle, or else like
a fiendish trick.
The manager regretted that Mme.
Lucille :ad been taken very ill. He
was extremely sorry, and he was an-
gry, too, for Mme. Lucille’s name on
the bills had more than half filled the
house, and now her place was to be
taken by a little pale-faced girl, who
looked hopelessly plain and unattract-
ive.
"he accompanist sat down and rat-
tled off the opening bars of a famous
old song. It was the cry of a woman
for a lover she would never see again,
and it was so old that people thought
it was worn out.
The accompanist played on; the
notes became slower, and finally
ceased, and then he waited.
Apparently Nellie had not heard.
The music had fallen from her hands.
and she was staring out with a white,
set face at the crowded hall before
her.
“Stage fright,- poor thing,” people
murmured.
Some of them stared at her coldly;
some of them put up their opera
glasses to look at her; but they could
not see what she saw—a man lying
tossing, perhaps dying, on a bed; they
could not feel what she fe t, that ter-
rible aching at her heart and that
choking at her throat.
Suddenly the mist cleared from her
eyes, and she saw, with a start. the
waiting audience before her and the
glasses leveled to her face, and she
turned to the accompanist. I—Ie under-
stood her glance, and commenced
again. _
Then she raised her s and stared
straight toward the gallery. “'hen’she
opened her lips, her voice rang out
clear and full across the crowded hall.
It never faltcred; the notes fell from
her lips liquid, wonderful, and the au-
dience suddenly became still. They
ceased to stare at her; opera glasses
fell—it was strange that they had be-
come dim—and in that great hall
there was scarcely a sound to be
heard.
The song went on. Vv’hat was there
in that old-fashioned air to hold them
spellbound? A girl’s fresh voice call-
ing to her absent lover. They had
never heard it sung like that before.
The eyes of beautiful women be-
anie moist; strong men leaned for-
ward to hide. their faces. They scarce-
ly realized it when the music stopped;
then they looked up to see her disap-
pearing iron the stage, and for a
brief moment there was a dead si-
lence.
Then the storm began. Artificial wo-
men forgot their artificiality; vearicd
men voke to life again, and shouted
wildly at the empty platform.
Nellie heard it faintly at the back,
but her only thought was to get away ‘
to Ralph, and while she. was speeding
homeward in a cab a man was making
profuse apologies to the audience. lie
vas sorry IvIrs. Underwood t-ti'si‘. not,
sing“ again that night. but he hoped
and believed they would hear her
again very soon. ,
ll'hen Nellie got home, the' room
seemed to her very dark. She saw dis-
tinctly two figures which can 9 toward
her as she entered. and then she. beam
a faint voice—Italph's l'DlCC'—i=1l0:lI-Illl;.r
to her from the bed.
She heard neither the doctor‘s admo
nitions nor the nurse‘s entreaties.
knelt at her husba nd’s side, and subbed
her heart out on his pillow.
>2: 3i: =1: =i= =5: * It -'r~ 5!: :3: :i:
i It ' was a long time before Ralph
thoroughly rccoverec, ~-u_t when he
did there was no longe' any fear of
starvation staring their. in the face.
'Ncllie‘s voice had driven the well
from the door.———.~&nswcr3.
Silt).
TUNNEL UNDER rHE SEA
Italy and Sicily are Planni‘ng a Treineml‘
ous Undertaking. ' .
A tunnel between the mainland 01’
Italy and the island of Sicily is .now
actively projected. Plans and a model
complete in every detail were executed
by the Italian .civil engineer, De Ja-
hannis, and are now on exhibition at
the ’ University of Padua, .says the
Philadelphia “Record.”
The principle employed by him is
that of boring in parabolic spiral lines.
After thorough and careful studies
of the Strait of Messina, its
varying depths, the nature of the
gr und and all other conditions
which might assist or interfere with
the success. of the enterprise, De Ja—
hannis decided to begin his tunnel near
San Giovanni di Sanitello, at the foot
of the Aspromonte Mountain range,
while the mouth on the other side will
be located on the plain “Degli Inglesi.”
The entire tunnel will be nearly two
miles long and will consist of two
shafts of about 10,000 feet each, dc-
scending at a grade not exceeding 32
feet in each 1,000. Such a tunnel
would be much preferable to a bridge,
which would have to have a span of
4,500 feet, and with the enormous
strength of the winds in the strait such
an attempt appears to be exceedingly
dangerous. This tunnel will cost
about $350,000,000, but the money has
not yet been appropriated.
The Most Aged Married Couple.
The most aged married couple in
Ohio, and probably the oldest in the
United States, is Philip Hines, aged
106 years, and his wife, lebekah
Hines, 96. They have resided for
many years in Brown township, Dela-
ware county.
Mrs. Hines is a remarkably well prev-
servod woman. She is 5 feet 11 inches,
weighs about 130 pounds, has deep
brown eyes, and hair well mixed with
gray, once a beautiful auburn. IIer
step is quick and decided, and her face
is marked with absence of wrinkles.
Her conversation is entertaining and
intelligent.
Philip Hines was 106 years old Au-
gust 12, 1890'. .Ile is considered the
oldest. resident of the State, and be—
yond a doubt the oldest husband in the
United States. He was born in Mary-
land, and in early boyhood took a
fancy to the boots and shoes made by
his uncle, Philip Hines, whose name
he hears. His uncle, thinking he
would make a success of the trade,
to ight it to him, and in a few years
he was making footgear for the stern-
er sex and belles of the neighborhood.
”When in the prime of his youth he
moved to Knox county, Ohio, and
opened a shop. He was the youngest
son of a family of five children, and
was considered one of the most in-
dustrious then in the neighborhood.
When he located in Knox county he
was surrounded by Indian camps, and
with wild beasts he came "in contact
almost constantly. He made friends
with the Indians, whose favor he won,
not only ror himself, but for his sweet-
heart.
._‘___.~_
MEN AND WOMEN.
McKinley is another of the long list
of American Presidents who were not
college graduates.
R. L. Stevenson, Professor Henry
Drummond and “Ian Maclaren” were
classmates at the Edinburgh Univer-
sity, and not one of the three won dis-
tinction as a student.
Mme. Sarah Bernhardt. who long
withheld her patronage of the wheel,
now finds that it restores and refreshes
her more than anything after a fatigu-
ing night at the theatre. -
Prussia’s high executioner, Herr
Reindel, being about to retire, hun-
dreds of applicants for his position
have appeared. He gets $37 for each
execution and his traveling expenses.
Kaiser Vv'ilhelm is extending his idea
of artistic collaboration. He is now
said to be at work on a historical
drama, which a young poet of VVies-
baden will put into German verse for
him.
Prince Bernard of Saxe-IVeimar,
who is frequently named as a probable
consort for the Queen of the Nether-
lands. is the second son of the eldest
son" aw” -'.r of the Grand Duke of
Sa:c<=-“..'.=.;...ir. He was born in April
1878, and is, therefore, rather more
than two years older than the young
queen. ~
A PARIS SUGGESTION.
[A Definition.
Sunday School Teacher—Johnny,
what does Christmas mean? ,3
Johnny—My pa says Christmas
means swapping a lot 0’ things you
:an't afford for a lot 0’ things you don’t
wants—Isiah ' - \
FANCY BOXES FOR MILLINERY.
their Daiutiness Much Enjoyed by the
Fashionable “’oman.
Some of the smartest millinery shops
.n town have lately given up the prac-
:ico of disfiguring their bandboxcs
with blatant, inartistic labels setting
forth their names and localities. \Vith
1 keener sense of the artistic fitness
31’ things, they have not used the
bandboxes as a means for blowing
their own horns, but have made them
things of beauty. Each box “issuing;
nowadays from these establishments
is covered therefore with the dainti-
9st, prettiest paper—all light colors,
pinks and blues or buffs and laven-
ders, and in pattern trailing vines or
prim little noscgays or graceful gar-
lands. The paper has thus become
quite as much a hallmark of the smart
establishments as the names once
were. Whenever you see a boy with
1 lot of bandboxes so covered bobbing
from his shoulders you are instantly
aware that a list of fortunate sbmo-
bodies are to have some especially
smart millinery. So charming, indeed,
are the bandboxcs that many a wo-
man declares that she patronizes the
smart shops nowadays quite as much
for their boxes as for what they con-
tain. On the other hand, though, so
distinctive has the thing become that
many an enterprising damsel has been
known to cover her ordinary bandbox
with wall paper like that appearing on
the smart bandboxes, and thus give
1 certain cachet, in letter, if not in
spirit, to her headgear. ' -
The “'ell (ll-corned “'oman.
She never betrays the fact that her
gown has a placket.
She never wears any but the neatcst
of shoes and gloves.
She never appears otherwise than
immaculate; her linen is irreproach-
able.
She never permits unsightly whisps
3f hair to stray over her collar or
about her temples.
She never wears a petticoat that
would not bear the inspection of her
greatest foe.
She never uses scent or extract; she
permits herself only the fragrance of
violet and orris sachets.
She never appears conscious, and is
not afraid to stand with her back to
her most intimate friend.
She never looks artificial; her skin
IS clear, and, above all, clean, sug-
gesting the abundant use of soap and
:old water.
She‘never looks as if she patronized
a. manicure; her hands are exquisitely
kept, but her nails are never shiny or
pointed.
And she never looks otherwise than
the well bred, well groomed lady, who
has mastered the secret of the eternal
fitness of things.
HEALTH NOTES.
Persons suffering from cold feet
should try rubbing the soles with dry
salt, after washng them, then rub-
bing them vigorously with a coarse
towel until they glow.
A mixed diet is by far the best for
all people in fair health; indeed, it
helps to maintain good health. In a
mixed diet good whole wheat bread,
vegetables, milk, fruit and eggs should
preponderate, the very smallest place
being given to meat.
A meat dict, unless in the case of a
certain class of delicate invalids.
coarsens and brutalizes. Animal food
is inflaming; it kindles the worst pas-
sions, makes the temper ferocious am
excitable, Unless tempered by the
cooling juices of fruits and vegetables.
the blood of the meat eater becomes
heated and overburdened with fibrine.
Meat—eaters are subject to fevers and
inflammatory diseases in general, espec-
ially to rheumatic and gouty disorders.
Physicians forbid meat eating during
rheumatic-attacks and afterwards, as
a preventive. A healthy and vigorous
condition of the stomach is indispen-
sable to life and comfort. Such a con-
dition cannot be maintained unless
one is extremely careful to live in ac-
cordance with the laws governing
health. .
Fast eating, irregularity of meals.
eating badly cooked. greasy food.
working immediately after meals.
keeping up a constant worry, sitting
indoors too much, lack of suitable out-
of—door exercise, all bring about im-
pairment of the. stomachs vigor.
. Night Air,
In summer, when the rays of the
sun fall almost vertically upon
the temperature at night comes a:-: a
welcome relief from the heat of '.-2-:=
day. .
During the rest of the year the sun‘s
rays strike the earth more obliqutiy.
and are sufiicicnt to warm only a thin
crust at the surface, which loses its
heat rapidly after the- sun has set, and
the temperature of iL-zc air falls ab-
ruptly. Under these conditions night
air maybecome a source of dun-:11:
The sudden change in tempera. :2
calls for extra protection for the ho
and one should never think of sei‘i'i"
out on no matter how sliort‘a journ. ,
without extra wraps. ‘
Except in Severe weather it is z; t
necessary to care so much for the or;
tremities, as the circulation of :12.
blood is maintained in these parts 73v
their constant motion. But the (- : . .
as the seat of the bulk of the if;
and the vitality of the body, siz-
be' protected from chill. The so—cg,
chest-protectors are useful; but 2;-.7;
ing is simpler than to habituate it.
self ' to wearing woolen unde1'<:l.,..i-
’ing. suiting the weight to the sca:'~
of the year. Wool is a poor conduc. ..
of heat, and when worn next the s;-
absorbs the perspiration and prevent;-
'too rapid loss of the body heat.
‘.
. \n
“.2?
FASHIONS THAT ARE COMMENDABL'
-. P.esent Modes are Easily Adapted to bi:
.. fereut Figures. I
tBy Special Arrangement with thelN. Y. Sr.
Radical ‘changes in fashion are r-
in sight just at present, and the qu.
tion, what shall we wear, seems to 2:.
settled for the season, but there :::~
constant variations of this pct ther
of dress which keep-up a perpetual 1:
terest in all the little details th-E
make the variety. \Vith the exce1.tt'.:‘
of hats, much can be said in praise u:
the present fashions, for they are eaxi
ly adapted to every wOman‘s style m
figure, and vastly becoming to all ‘.
mankind, providing the women 1' '
any degree of taste in making their
lections. Dress in all its various pha< -.~'
of exaggeration and extravagant-e 111:5}
seem frivozous, indeed, but when :
plain woman can be transformed into
a very attractive one by careful at-
tention to the style, coloring. and har-
mony of her 'aiment, the subject as-
sumes an importance which few
women can afford to ignore; art is a
wonderful help to nature in this
branch of decoration. One of the filllb
ous French beauties retained her fas-
cinating appearance until very late in
life by making a study of dress as a
means of enhancing her remaining
charms and disguising those she had
lost. The high collars and long sleeves
with lace frills, so fashionable now,
were considered a. special necessity to
hide the traces of age, and the trail-
ing skirt added dignity to her costume.
The collar is one of the special points
in dress this season, and there seems
to be no limit to the variety which can
be applied to that one small band
around the neck. I-Iuge bows of ribbon
at the back are still worn, and tho flar-
ing collar of battlement-shapod pieces,
'ounded tabs, and points of bright vel‘
vet with a frill of lace inside is one of
the prime favorites. The Medici col-
lar. too, has an inning now, and every
sort of device which can be imagined
is used to give the soft, fluffy effect
around the neck. Knife-planed frills
of colored taffeta silk, beginning just
in front of the cars and extending
across the back. are very becoming‘
with the added frill of lace, and really
the special charm of this collar fad is
that any decei‘ation which is becoming
is admissible. All sorts of fancy stocks
in light. delicate colors, and pretty
combinations of lace, chiffon, ribbon,
and velvet. are displayed in the stores
already for use, and, as the collar rare-
ly matches the bodice in color, they
are a very useful purchase. Knife-plait-
ed chiffon, three inches wide, scalloped
and edged with fine lace, or a tiny
fringe of feathers of the some color,
falling over a ribbon band, makes the
daintiest sort of a collar. Plain satin
and taffeta ribbons. in all colors, are
used for collars, but striped ribbons
seem to have taken the :place of the
plumed varieties, and violet and white
in even stripes are very efiective on a
gray gown. Collar bands of Spangled
gold galon or embroidery, with a plait-
ing of white ribbon across the back,
are. especiallypretty on some gowns
and almost always becoming.
Franz Two Points of View.
Judge X.. while travelling one sum-
..mer arrived at a “'cstern hotel which
.was full of guests. and was put into a
small room with an Irishman. Being
somewhat annoyed by this, "he said,
“Well, Pat, you would have lived a
long time in the old country before you
would have slept in the same room,
with a judge." “Yes,” said Pat; “and
you would have lived a long time in
the old country before you would have
been a. judge!” ‘
“Meh who have Seen a good deal of
life don’t always end by choosing their
wives well.”—George Eliot. .
scores of photographs
we were L‘d
g'ii‘hlil’l‘RICAL: GossIP.
vmoam csfive A GREAT ACTRESS
AND MARVELOUS mNGER.
n! x
w-
sliu Returns to Aznerica More POPUIBI
Ever—Stories Concerning Her
8: ndies for Carmen—Managers are Com-
Tim"
in; it. Strong on Diorality this Season.
Madam Calve returns to America
:his season more popular than ever, and
her Carmen draws as irresistibly as
when she first taught American au-
lienccs the power and beauty of this
:apricious gipsy queen. ,’
Many pretty stories are told of he:
illC‘tllOdS in studying this part. Per-
haps most of'them are apocryphal. II
it said that she went to Spain and
spent much time in studying the Span-
ish gypsies at. short range. She her-
self has sanctioned this story by per-
mitting it to stand uncontrudicted. The
story, indeed. is to her credit. It shows
:hat she went out to see whether there
wasanything in a Spanish gypsy that
might help her to make an illusion for
her public. In all human probability
she. found nothing. Certainly there is
nothing of the coarse and cheap no-
:nad of the peninsula in her Carmen.
She did better when she spent some of
her days and nights in the Study of
Prosper Merimee’s story. There she
found a complete, Concrete personal-
ity.
MA DAM CALVE.
In the other characters which she
assumes Calve has attained great suc:
Zess, but it is with Carmen that her
Jame and fame are chiefly interwoven.
[Ier Ophelia, however, is one of the
masterqcreations of the lyric stage. Of
course, her great triumph in the part
was reached in the mad scene, which
had been used as a piece of vocal fire-
works in the concert room so often
that its dramatic possibilities were
not known. Mme. Calve showed us
that this mad scene was one of the
opportunities of a dramatic singer’s
career. The technical difficulties she
)vercame in a manner which proved
chat as a vocalist pure and simple she
and few equals. But her conquest was
in imbuing every measure with emo-
tional eloquence, while she accompan-
ied her song with look and action suit-
ed 'to the crowd. In short, it is true
that Mme Calve is a great actress; but,
what we are in danger of forgetting is
that she does most of her acting with
her voice. and that she is first, last,
and all the time a singer.
’ni- (? __1
\Jv
i? it“... .‘i a "
‘w \5ddefa;br
MADAM CALVE AS OPHELIA.
It looks very much as though the
theatrical managers had gone back to
first principles. Perhaps they have
come to the conclusion that that origi-
nal showman. Artemas W'ard, wasn’t
so far out of the way, after all, when
he preached the doctrine of "Cum the
moral on ’em strong.” “Em,” of
course, meant the great and only—and
gullible—public, ,who, while apt
to swallow down pretty much every-
thing that the astute manager has to
offer, is still unquestionably more wrig-
gly and wry-faced over some doses
than over others. It may be that the
manager had discovered that immortal-
ity \ 'as more likely to prodhce wry fa--
ces than some. other things; at all events,
a large number of them haVe, turned”
over a new leaf, and instead of vaunt-
ing the iniquity it is now f‘the thing”
to extol the virtues of their bright par-
ticular stars. Yvette 'Guilbert is the
latest and most scintillant example of
this. \Vith what pains was she her-
alded a you ' ago as all that was irre-
sistibly naughty! All that is now
changed. In the lobby of the music
hall where she appears may be seen
immortalizing.
the domestic charms and graces of this
same Guilbert. There is “Yvette at
Home,” “Yvette Sewing,” “Yvette and
Her Mother.” "Yvette in the Kitchen,”
and various other tributes to the peace
ful, homeful life of the artist. Any
one unfamiliar with previous records
and boasts really might suppose that it
all—swell, verydificrent from what
to believe it was last year.
Rosa FANCIION.
-.._...:.. .
..n
ha.
Norwalk Chronicler