1’ :1 . my": .‘.-,‘."'i‘.\"2'.‘
1 :4; ’17-;5‘
.1111 THELASIMOMENT
. There are still people who "talk of
'Weilington and 1815, but it is now gen- .
orally understood that the real battle .
of Waterloo takes place every Satur-
day morning at the station, of that
name, when the special trains start for
South Africa. It isa desperate strug-
gle while it lasts, and the uniformed
men have always, cenquered before,
and this encourages 'and gives them
enthusiasm. Mr. John Beste—the name
was on the leather label of his
single portmanteau—Mr. John Beste,
down in good time before the real tus-
sle began, looked 'on with interest. He
was a tall, reserved-looking man, with
- a short beard and the brown complex-
1 ion that comes to men who have
Icoked at the South African sun.
"No one to see me 011’," said John
Beste,. (A short mother was stepping
on iiptoe to kiss a burly youth, and
the sight gave him thoughts.) “Of
course there is no one to see me off."
he continued. argumentatively. “Why
s! uild there be?”
Fir. John Beste placed his portman-
is :111 in the Corner of a. first-class com-
~ artment, and laughed a little bitterly
: t his grumbled soliloquy. A light
vouch on his arm made him wheel
round. The sound of a soft voice made
him flush.
"illr. Beste!"
- “Miss Langham!
say géod-by to me?”
“That was the idea,” said the young
Woman, brightly. “I suppose there are
others. How long before your train
goes?”
"About twenty minutes. Miss Lang-
ha 111”
“iny twenty minutes.
that you are going so quickly.
you will see Mr. Charterhouse, I sup;
pose”—she stepped aside to avoid a
juggernaut trolley 0f luggage—“as-
- soon as you arrive?” she resumed.
"‘I can't possibly avoid that. Is Mrs.
Langham here?”
“My aunt does not know that I have
come down. 'Did you want to see her.
Mr. Beste?”
“Her presence," he said. gravely, "is
not: indispensable to my happiness.”
“I’m afraid that you are inclined to
be a little unjust to her. You don't
know her as well as I do, Mr. Beste.”
“That is so. But Mrs. Langham has
made a confidant of me during the
time that I have been here, and—well,
I think I understand her.”
"Tout comprehende c’cst tout par-
donner,” quoted the young lady.
"Not in every case.”
“1’ should like to know what you
1talked about. It occurred to me at
dinner last night that”——-—-
“Upon my word. Miss Langham, I
'11:: re half a mind to tell you.”
"Half a mind is plenty. Mr. Beste. I
have a special reason for wanting to
know. My dear aunt has not always
the best tact in the world. ’
'That," he said dryly. "occurred to
m" 9!
"Vi’as it of me that she. was talking.
I ;w onder? “'38 I the object?"
"It was of you,” he said.
“And my aunt said ‘3"
“Am I bound to answer these ques-
tions. my lord?”
A band of Jewish financial gentle-
men came along the crow ded platform
Are you here to
I am sorry
ant indiV'idual in thei1 centre.
the enterprise of their race. they
forced the other passengers aside. and
M1’.
were separated in the commotion.
'"You are bound." said the young
Portia. returning. “to answer all the
questions that are put to you for the
next fifteen minutes.”
“Mrs. Laugham,” said Mr. John
Beste, shifting—his rug from one arm
to the other. and bending a. little closer
to the bewildering hat and the charm-
ing face that ii; selfishly attempted to
hide. “Mrs. Langham was extremely
anxious that I should convey certain
information toMr. Charterhouse. As
manager to M1. (‘l1ur'tc1house’s valua-
Me mine. Mm Langham seems to have
thought that I should be a valuable~
what shall I say?~— :a- uaiuable fellow-
conspiratorf'
“ .‘0 on, ” she said, quickly. and with
great concern. .
"I wonder whether you can
- What I am going to say?”
“I hope ’I am not guessing 1ightly.1t
istoo terrible!"
‘Mrs. Langham was good enough to
any that for anything I could sayto
my—my master. Mr. Charterhouso.
that would assist the object she had
in view. I should be well repaid. This
was. of course, very generous of yout
aunt."
“ Tm on. Mr. Beste.” ~
The time was flying. Passengers
were settling down in their compart-
' merits. and at. every window was a
,bunch of heads. There were tears,
guess
‘too, because some of those on the plat— .
form—parents saying good-by to sons,
and wives saying adieu to husbands—
were sufl‘lciently oid~fashioned to pos—
scss emotions.
“And what I had to' ..5 was this. Mr.
Charterhouse is, as 1ou know, a bach-
clor."
“Mr. Charterhouse may be an old
maid for all I know or care," she said,
hotly.
‘ “And I—I was to use my influence
with Charterhouse—which is, I admit
considerable-to induce him to come
over here to—to see Miss Longham."
“And buy her, I suppose,” she ex-
claimed, trembling with excitement.
but not allowing her voice to raise it-
self. “To buy me, and to sign the
agreement ' at St. George‘s, Hanover
Square." 1
' “I think."
"‘ 'that your aunt is veiy anxious that
you should make a good mariiage. "
“These good marriages me all bad
ones," declared Eva Langham,hotly:
"Mr. Beste, you must help me. I can-1
not allow my aunt to make me appear
shameful and ridiculous
(-
in people's
And ‘
John Besto and Miss Langham;
he said.'apologetically, .
eyes. You must promise not to say all
word to Mr. Charterhouse about me. I
don’ t know him, and I don’ t want to
know him. " 1 .
“He saw you once,-
yOu were a girl at schoo ."
“I neg of you, Mr. Beste, to do this
for me. I shall marry—when I do
marry—just whom I like, and I will
not consider any one whom I- don’t
like. " ‘
“I am glad to hear you say so.”
“I should not dream of saying any?
thing else.”
“I thought from what your aunt said,
that you understood"-- '
“Indeed, indeed, Mr. Beste,” she
said, pleadingly, “you must not think
so badly of me as all that."
“I can’t tell you how glad I am to
hear it. I shall, at any rate, take away
pleasant memories now."
“Thank you." 1
“And" he went on, with something
of a hurry in his manner, “I shall
think of you a great deal, Miss Lang-
l1a111.Now that you have told me this,
I shall 100k back upon this visit to-
England. s one of absolute deligh t. ”
“A11d——.1nd you will come back
again '3”
He waited a moment.
“I wonde1 whether I might write to
you?” he asked.
“I think,” she said, looking up with
a pleased expression, “that were is no
law against that.”
“I was afraid you would consider it
an importineuce on my part.”
“You find that I do not.”
“There is something else to explain,"
he said, awkwardly. “I have been
here, to some extent. in disguise. I
think, per.haps I had bette1 unite and
tell you all about it.”
“There are still five minutes,” she
said, “looking at the tiny gold watch
on her wrist. “Why not tell me now?"
“I suppose,” he said, with some ner-
vousness, “that under
stances would you marry Mr. Charter-
house?”
“Under no circumstances,”
Miss Langham, decidedly.
“He is ve1 y 1ich. ” he remarked “and
I happen to know that he"——-—
“I desire,” said the young woman,
with much spirit, “I desire not to hear
Mr. Charterhouse’s name again."
“Your mind is quite made up?"
“Quite!”
A porter stood patiently at the door
of the compartment, holding it open
for the passenger to South Africa.
(“There’s nothing like a young en-
gaged couple,” said the acute porter to
himself, “for making trains late. They
don’t care”) . .
“But suppose I were to tell you,“ he
said, taking her hand and holding it.
“that Mr. Chartehouse, 'who was a
poorish man until three years ago,
when this mine was found on his
p10'.pc1ty has been in England lately?
Suppose I w ore to tell you that he has
fallen in love with you” -—- «
“Even that does not concern £119,111.
Beste.‘
“And supposing I new to tell you
that, to avoid being pestered bylfinan-
cial peOple. and to see the little School-
girl who has grown so tall and 30—30
charming, he preferred to call‘himself,
remarked
'not Mr. Chartorhouse, the owner of the
West End Mine, but Mr. Beste, the
manager of"—- '
“That,” said Miss. La-nahan, her
breath {Hominr quickly, “would make
1 all the difierence. ”
forming an entoura :e to some impo1t- ,
\Vith .
The porter jeiked his head toward
the.
that moments were valuable. The cli-
ent had no need of this intimatiOn, for
he knew better than the porter how
ver 11 pieci ous the moments were.
“1.10 .1011 really mean that?" he ask-
ed. quickly.
“I never say things I don’t mean,
Mr. Boste—I mean. Mr. Charterhouse."
She laughed . a little nervously: '1 “I
shall always think of you as Mr.
Beste,"
“But will you always think 'of me?
May I come back here in three months
time and ask you formally"—
“Now, then. s11." said the porter,
“you'll go and lose the special, that’s
what you'll do.”_ '
'l‘I musn't do that. my man. Good-
by, lelva. I must take my seat, I sup—
lle stepped into the compartment,
and the porter. shutting the door. re-
ceived a tip that made him whistle
with delight.
“And you won‘t give me an answer
now. then?" he went on, anxiously. “I
wish there was time to persuade you.
dear. to say "Yes.’ But I suppose I
must wait until I return. and we must
talk it over then, and I must try to in-
duce you" ~——— ‘
“I think." said Eva Langham. look-
ing up, will drawing her gray veil ca1e‘
fully up f101n her lips, “I think that,
considering how verybadly you have
behaved. the wisest thing you can do
is to—is to kiss me."
There was just time. »
he said, de-
“And- that means?"
lightedly.
“It means.” she said, “that I am
very, very happy."
Out you go, special train to South-
ampton. Go slowly for a space, mind,
because. there are folk-in the train
because there are hopes and ambitions
among your passengers, and this start
of yours is the first step toward their
realization or their disappointment; go
look of content. is straining his sight
to miss nothing of the picture of his
future wife
“Well," said Eva Langham to her-
self, shyly, “this has been a buSv
twenty minutes "—W Pett Ridge, in
Woman at Home.
A SONG OF HAPPY DAYS.
Sing a song of happy days
Comin' up the slope; '
All the meadows tink'lin'
With the silt-urbane of hope: -
Sing a song of happy days—-
. , All the birds in tune.
, Am' the old. world drumm— —driftin'
To the gloom. on' d reams of June!
. 4Frank L. Stan'wt.
no circumi -
A
I think, when '
con1pa1tment, to hint to his client ’
who are reluctant to leave: so slowly,"
slowly, because a bearded man, with a '
. y - ,- ‘4
TURN 6F Till!) .OA lilib.
- 7"631 you tell fortunes?" she asked,
leaning her elbows onthe table and
shuflling the cards.
“Some people’s.
mother" s?”
Her mother was dozing in the arm-
chair by the fire.
“Oh, don’t be silly!
ll told.” ‘
"Poor momma!”
"Well you know what I mean—ail
that’s worth telling. She refused the
fair man and married the dark one;
wasn't very rich and wasn’t very poor
—quite poor enough!"She shrugged
her shoulders and made a, dainty grim-
ace—alas! unnamable. “Had two tire-
some boys and one very nice girl—voi-
la moi!"
“Who was an incorrigible little flirt
and tease," I suggested bitterly.
"Fortunes don’t. go into such details
Shall 1 try your
Mum’s fortune
about secondary persons, even if they
happened to be true; which they
aren't. ”
\“Oh, yes, they do."
“Since you know so much about it
you can tell mine." She scattered the
cards toward me with a. crash. “It’s
all right, mum; I’m only throwing the
cards at Cousin Harry.”
Her mother gave a sleepy smile aid
returned to her slumbers.
“You mustn’t blame me if the cards
are unfavorable.”
“I shall know you’ve made it up if
they are."
“I wouldn't dream of jestin-g upon
such a. subject,” I assured her. “For-
tune telling follows certain essential
principles, which are immutable
and—4" "
“Should be practised, not preached.
Go on." .
“To start with, then, you are the
Queen of Hearts."
“Why?”
“Because the Queen of Hearts rep-
resents feminine beauty and charm. ”
“011!” She leaned back and laughed.
"If you are only going to flatter me I
won't listen. ”
“I merely state a fact. You are the
Queen of Hearts.”
“No, I'm' not. I’m spades or clubs,
because I’m dark.”
“Excuse me, but it is not a matter
merely ,of complexion, but of general
appearance; Spades represents plain
people, diamonds passable people,
clubs nice-looking people, and hearts
very nice-looking people. Queen of
Hearts.”
“I’m glad the fortune teller is so ap-
preciative. Of course, I know you’re
only pretending.” She looked at me
for denial, but I busied myself with the
cards. “‘Go on!” she cried.
“First I shuflle the cards—so. Then
I cut them—so. Now I place my hand
on them—so. You place your hand on
top of mine.” She did. “Now I
place my other hand on top of yours—
so—and you put your other hand on
top of mine.”
“I never heard of this before,” said
she, doubtfully. Neither did I, but it
had occurred to me as an improve-
ment.
“Now you must sit quite still and si-
lent for a full minute.”
“I know I shall laugh.”
“Then the fortune will be spoiled.”
“I don' t believe it’s necessary.”
"Yes it is—to place the teller and"
. the telleo en rapport. ”
“But we aren’,t you know. We al-
ways quarrel-eat least, you do.’
“Couldn't we befijust for a. minute,
Milly?"
I didn’t mean to speak. seriously, but
I did.
"You. have-made me feel quite seri-
ous,” said she; with a nervous little
laugh.
“It’s going to be a serious fortune.”
I meant it to be.
“Then—then won’t you cut, too,
Harry? To represent the other peo-
ple? I don't like all the responsibili-
ty. Please!" I
So I out too. It didn’t matter, you
see, because I looked at the cards be-
fore I put them down in the shape of
an opened fan round the Queen of
Hearts. Of course, I don't know any-
thing about fortune telling, really.
“The disposition of the "cards,” I
saidtsruvely, “indicates many possibil-
ities ‘of happiness and good fortune,
if you take your opportunities; but
much is left to your own decision.”
“What a nuisance! Don’t they say
how I shall decide?”_
' I shook my head.
“The hearts near the queen show
that you are and will be much liked
, and admired.”
“I believe you're making it up.”
"The three kings next to her indicate
three admirers—perhaps lovers. ”
“Whoever can they be?”
“The King of Clubs, with the other
clubs close by, I take to be a soldier——
good-looking, dashing, and, from the
diamonds in the same line, not badly
off.r The hearts at the end of the line
denote that you have given him some
encouragement.” '
“I’m sure I haven’t,” said she with
some warmth. Of course she knew I
meant Captain Richards. .“The cards
are wrong." 6
“Perhaps they mean that you will
do so " I suggested inquhingly; but
she twisted up her handkemhief and
made no answer.
“The King of Diamonds, with spades
following, means an elderly suitor who
has prospered in trade. He is shown
by the diamonds, ending with the
knave, to have made a fortune and re- .
tired, handing the business over to his
son. I meant old Parsley.”
“I call it very unkind of yo“, Hai-
ry n .
Her lip dropped a little, and 1 has-
. toned to apologize.
“It isn't my doing.
“Well,
It's the cards."
you know it isn‘ttrue. it’s
only"-'—sl1e locked over her shoulder to
i'ixo’R ~.w Ali—1. k
see that her'motlr‘or' Was still asleep—.-
“mamma’s silliness. Why, he’s as old
as dad; and I wouldn’t. You know I
wouldn’t.” '
“The cards leave it to you, Milly."
“Don’t you believe me?" '
She looked quite hurt.
"Of course—if you say so."
I patted her hand, which was lying
on the table, but she drew it sharply
away and rubbed the touch off with
her handkerchief.
“Well? The King of Hearts?
does 'he mean?"
I considered a moment.
“The King of Hearts,” I pronounced
slowly, “means a handsome young fel-
low who paid you a great deal of at-
tention when you were staying with
the Queen of Clubs, 3 dark relative—
probably your aunt. "
“I won’t listen to another word!”
she cried indignantly. It's a nasty
horrid fortune, and quite untrue.
There!” ‘ -
“very well."
I made as if I would sweepthe cards
together.
“Don’t be disagreeable.” She looked
at me reproachfully, with one of her
kaleidoscopio changes. “I want to hear
it—my proper fortune—not nonsense."
“Well, isn’t. this true?"
“No, it isn’t." ' _
“Didn’t he pay you a lot of atten-
tion?" .
”Young Jephsonl" M! iii 5 £1.
“Yes." 333»,-
He was the rival I really feared.
“Nothing special."
“So many pay you attention that you
think nothing of i "
“You silly fellow!” said she, scorn-
fully. “Why, he's almost engaged to
Cousin Annie."
I felt as- though a weight was taken
off me.
“Why,” I said, “how stupid of me!
She must be the dark lady, I suppose.
I ought to have connected him with
her instead of you.”
“I don’t. believe you understand the
i
What
. fortune business a bit."
“It’s very difficult," I apologized.
"But yousee the cards are all right.
when you read them properly."
“What else do they say?”
“The next point is money. The sev-
en of diamonds next to the knave of
clubs—probably your uncle—indicates
a legacy; and—" :1
“No, no!" she interrupted.
want to know aboutumoney.”
“Well, the duration of life is shown
by—” ._
“That doesn’t matter," said she,
quickly, shrugging her shoulders.
“Then I hardly know what else there
is to tell.” I looked at her doubtfully.
There was one thing only that I want-
ed to- ,tell her. “What do you want to
know, Milly?”
She put her elbow on the table and
rested her head on her hand. Then
she laughed uneasily, and I held my
breath for a moment.
"Isn’t there—I mean did you finish
wi-th—the—the—-admirers, as you call
them?”
“There is another," I told her, “but
he is hardly worth mentioning.”
“Why not? Because he doesn’ i: care
for—doesn't admire, or whatever you
call it—m-uch?”
“Oh, no! But he’s poor, you see. Be-
ing only the King 'of Spades, he has to
work for his living. so he admires at a
distance. There are'two cards bet-ween
him and her, you see."
“But,” said she very gently,
are hearts.”
“Yes,” said 1, "they are hearts; be-
ing two; they show that he is distantly
related." We are second cousins, real-
iy. “They indicate that he is very fond
of her, but leave it. doubtful if she is
more than slightly attached to him.”
I looked appealingly to her, but her
eyes were cast down.
"How do you make that out?"
asked at length.
The card next to her is the two; but.
that by him is the ten; which means
great affection.”
“What does the. rest of the line
mean ?”
“The nine of spades, on the other
side of the king, shows that he has a
great deal more work to do before he
can be in a position to ask the knave
of hearts—her father—for her hand.
Meanwhile the eight of spades and the
ace of clubs show that he must toil at
some risk in a land across the sea.”
She clasped her hands suddenly and
looked up. '
“Oh, no, no!” she cried.
“Yes," I said quietly and sadly.
“Where?”
Her dainty mouth was quivering.
“The cards do not say. But it is the
Cape, I believe, where a 1elative has
offered him a. good b.erth ”
We looked at the cards in dismal si-
lence for a while. Then she smiled at
me ever so brightly.
“There is the ace of hearts at the
end of the line, Harry, "she whispex ed.
“What does that mean. ‘1‘”
I took the hand near me gently in
mine. ‘ '
“,I think, Milly,” I said earnestly, “it
must be my heart, because it is over by
you. Will yoii haveit, dear?”
She looked down for a moment, then
pushed it gently toward me.
“I think,” she said, “it must be my
heart—which. is going over the sea
with you'!”—Black and White.
“I don’t
“they
she
So Thoughtful.
Mrs. Greene—My husband is such a
thoughtful man. He always goes down
intothe basement kitchen to smoke.
Mrs. Gray—And lets the smoke (303131:
upstairs into the dining-room througn
the dumb-waiter.
Mrs. Greene—Yes, but that’s because.
he is absent-minded, poor man. 'I‘i:.-.~
has nothing to do with his thoughti
ness, you know. —Boatou Ti anscript.
‘-~.
‘GAZETTEQ
JUST IN TIME.
Carroll Trainer was to go to Mexico
to make his fortune and Lila Havens
had promised to remain true to him
till his return. When they parted, he
decided to return to Baltimore at once
and make arrangements to go to
Mexico. Lila Havens went on alone
to friends she was to visit at Sharps-
bu1'.g '
“We expected you this morning,”
said hei hostess.‘
“Yes, dear, but you see, I was un-
avoidably delayed. What a lovely day
it has been!”
“And there is a telegram for you,
Lila.” _
“Really? Something aunt forgot to
mention, I dare say. Excuse me.” She
broke it open carelessly. “Dear me!”
She puckered her brow. “Only fancy!
The "admiral is coming down here to-
morrow.”
The admiral appeared on the scene
the day following.
“My dear Lila,” he said, “I must'have
a little talk with you.”
“Yes, uncle.”
“Lila, my dear” —-they
alone—“I have had a. proposal for your
hand in marriage. If I had chosen the
man, I could not be better pleased than
to see you the wife of Judge Mason.”
“Uncle! He is more than twice my
age. I never dreamed. of it.”
“He is a. younge-mian, my dear—a
vigorous young man. He will idolize
you. You knew be admired you.”
”He is a widower.”
“But his only daughter is married.”
“Oh, uncle, it—it is out of the ques—
ticn.”
“My dear"——-the old man looked sud-
denly grave and pale—“there is bad
news. You must make up your mind
to meet it bravely.”
Lila’s face reflected some of the pale-
ness of his own.
‘ Unclemxny—money—have I lost it?”
‘ There has been a terrible financial
failure. I hardly know how to tell
you. We only heard yesterday, and we
don’t know for sure "as yet. I am
afraid—Lila, you must bear up—I am
afraid you have lost nearly all you
had.”
The girl leaned back in the chair.
There was a. stunned look in her face.
She did. not speak. The admiral went
on, speaking more rapidly,—
“I can hardly blame myself. It. was
an undream-ed of thing. Of course
there is a little real estate left you.
Heaven knows I wish it had been all
in houses. Judge Mason—-—-”
{IO-h,’)
“he won’t want me now—when he
knows I am pennilessi”
“My child, he came as soon as he
knew it.” .
She went to her room and locked
herself in. Then she wrote to Carroll
Trainer:—
“1 am no longer rich. There is no-
use of an engagement. I have lost
everything. Perhaps you will be rich.
some day, Carroll. If. so, you must
come and find me.”
But she said nothing of Hon. Thomas ,
Mason.
The girl’s soul sickened within her.
A brief note from Trainor told her '
that he was just leaving for the gulf
coast, where he would find a steamship
for Vera. Cruz. Hethou‘ght. he would
never return tothe United States.
A great.despair came over her. In
'her sensitive state she felt that he no
longer cared for her.
She capitulated and consented to 10
ceive Judge Mason’ 5 addresses
Three months had passed. The 11' ed—
ding was to take place the last week .
of June. Miss Havens was to become
Mrs. Thomas Mason.
The wedding invitations were about
to be sent. out. The wedding day was
fixed a fortnight hence. Miss Havens,
'out on a shopping errand, turned a
street corner sharply. and ran against
some one. She looked up and grew
pale. It was Carroll Trainor.
"You!” she said faintly.
“You didn’t expect to see me? Lila.
for heaven’s sake,'is it true that you
are going to marry Judge Mason?”
She nodded with an effort. The idea
of the marriage to which she had be-
come reconciled, but never enthusi-
astically disposed, suddenly seemed
sickening. Her whole soul revolted.
“Carroll!” she gasped. “Oh, Carroll!
if there were any escape!”
“Escape? What do you mean? Isn't
it your own choosing? Are you being
forced into marrying the old wid-
ower?”
“I—-I—-oh, you seemed not to want
me, and uncle and aunt seemed not to
want me! Nobody seemed to want
rue—except Judge Mason.
“I—deserted you! I’ve just return-
ed from Mexico,” saidTrainor, “and
(“m going back there at once. I’ve got
1 splendid chance. It’s lonesome for
a man to be1by himself. The climate
is like paradise.”
The admiral and his good lady were
at the-breakfast table.
His morning mail lay before him. He
took up the top letter of all and gazed
severely at it. The handwriting was
Lila’s. The letter had been posted the
night before. He opened it, read it
ln1silence and passed it to his wife.
“Do not send the invitations,” it
said, “for I shall not marry Judge Ma-
son. He is a good man and will un-
derstand it was a mistake. I love
some one else and have gone away to
marry him. We shall spend oi1r honey-
moon in a palm thatched hut in
Mexico.’
M13. Blah could not speak.
moment’s silence the admiral
served:
“On the whole, I’m glad the marriage
is off. The judge’s daughter was great-
ly opposed. She might. have made
things- unpleasant after a. bit.” And
still again, “she’s a plucky little
posture, Lila ill “ll b__l_o_u "'
After 9.
ob-
were quite.
the girl broke in suddenly,‘
wt
1
0115331! obwus TO'HAVE Trauma.
8111:“ (none rating Around the min A"
Decided]: Inohlonublo.
(By special arrangement with theN
All the prophecies in regard to the
close fitting skirt With flaring fulnesslat
fectually in the ‘new importatiOns. The
flare is“ accomplished in various ways.
one of which is to set. a circular portion
in at the sides, like a circular flounce.
except that it begins on either side'of
a. narrow front breadth and ends on
each side of the back breadths. It ‘is
quite a little wider in back than in
,front, Where it is not more than twelve
inches. This is decidedly a. new model
and one which no doubt will be very
Donular. as the tendency of fashion is
toward less fullnell.
In all dressy gowns the skirt is cut
with a slight train, and the silk foun-
dation skirt is finished separate from
the outer skirt, with the knife plaiting
set in the'edge.
There seems to be no: doubt about the
continued popularity of tiny frills of
ribbon and ruches of all sorts and
kinds. Bands of ribbon covered with
lace insertion are also very much em-
ployed. Narrow double frills of chif—
fon gathered so that they have a puffed
effect are used as a. skirt trimming set
in on the lower edge of a narrow bias
band of satin. One or two bands, minus‘
the chiffon. are added above, and the
whole is Very effective on sheer nun’s
veiling.
The diversity in every department of
dress certainly furnishes a rich field
for choice. and literally everything
that ”can be applied to sartorial effects
is to be worn providing the sleeves are
small and the skirt scant around the
then, is in the choice, which should be
idetermined by the style that best suits
the figure. ‘ 4
my
;-H',“‘1'l*\* .
‘ltllilI
~‘——.—:——f"
Black and white effects and black and
white gowns are to be very much worn.
Black and white checked silks are made
up into Spring costumes with black
velvet ribbon edging the “ounces One
ed rather gingerly=. with black polka,
dots about as large as a small pea.
Shirt waists of black and white bro-
caded silk and also of black and 11 bite
ab‘eo ' 4..'_,'....'-.
..Y Sun) .
the bottom have materialized very ef- .
hips. The secret of successful dressing, .
of the prettiest silks for a dressy Sum- ‘
mer costume is white taffeta. pattern- ‘
striped taffeta. are also very fashion:
Norwalk Chronicler