The Riser's Daughter'
By HON RE
TIIAPTER XII.
Silence reigned uuiy uiure ia the house.
lhe rattle of the wheels in the street of
sl-epiiig Saumur ;ifw more and more
distant Then it was that a sound seam
ed to reach Eugenie's heart before it
fell on her ears, a wailing sound that
rang through the thiu walls above it
came from her cousin's room. There was
a thin line of light beneath his door; the
rays slanted a gleaming bar along the
baluster of the crazy staircase.
"H is unhappy," she said, as she
went up a little farther.
A second moan brought her to the
landing above. The door stod ajar; she
thrust it open. Charles was sleeping in
the rickety old armchair, his head droop
ed over to one side, bis hand hung down
and wearly touched the floor. Hi breath
came in quick, sharp jerks that startled
Eugenie. She entered hastily.
"lie must be very tired," she said to
herself, as she saw a dozen sealed letters
lying on the table. She read the ad
dresses MM. Ferry, Breilman & Co..
carriage builders; II. Buisson, tailor; and
so forth.
"Of course, he has been settling his
affairs, so that he may leave France as
soon as possible," she thought.
Her eyes fell upon two unsealed let
ters. One of them began "My dear An
nette she felt dazed, and could
see nothing more for a moment. Her
heart beat fast, her feet seemed glued to
the floor.
"His dear Annette! ne loves, he Is
bel0Tj: Then there is no more
hope! What does he say to
her?" These thoughts flashed through
her heart and brain. She read the words
everywhere; on the table, oi' the very
floor, in letters of tire. "Must I give him
up already ? No, I will not read the let
ter. I ought not to stay. And
yet. eveu if I did read it?"
She looked at Charles, gently took his
head in her hands, and propped it
against the back of the chair. He sub
mitted like a child. Like a mother, Eu
genie raised the drooping hand, and,
like a mother, laid a soft kins on his
hair. "Dear Annette!" A mocking voice
shrieked the words in her car.
"I know that perhaps I may be doin
wrong, but 1 will read the letter," she
said.
Eugenie turned her eyes away; her
high sense of honor reproached her. For
the first time in her life there was
struggle between good and evil in her
soul. Hitherto she had never done nnv
thing for which she needed to b'ush.
Love and curiosity silenced her scruples.
Her heart swelled higher with every
phrae as she read; her quickened pulses
seemed to send a sharp, tingling a'ow
through her veins and to heigMen the
vivid emotions of her first love.
"My Hear Annette Nothing should
have power to separate us save this over
whelming calamity that has beraieu me.
a calamity that no human foresight could
have predicted. My father has died by
his own hand; his fortune and mine are
both irretrievably lost. I am left an
orphan at an age when, with the kind of
education I have received, I am almost a
child, and, nevertheless, I must now en
deavor to show myself a man, and to rise
from the dark depths into which I have
been hurled. If I am to leave Franco as
an honest man, I have not a hundred
francs that I can call my own with which
to tempt fate in the Indies or in America.
Yes, my poor Anna, I am ,oing in quest
. zztiiiz to th " a A
climes. So I shall not return to Paris.
Your love the tenderest, the most de
voted love that ever ennobled the heart
of man would not seek to draw me
back. Alas! my darling, I have not
money enough to take me to you. that I
might give aud receive one last kiRs, a
kiss that should put strength into me for
the task that lies before me. I have
thought seriously over my position. I
have grown much older in the last twen
ty four hours. Dear Anna, even if, to
keep me beside you, you were to give up
all the luxuries that you enjoy, your box
at the opera, and your toilet, we Bhould
not have nearly sufficient for the neces
sary expenses of the extravagant life
that I am accustomed to, and besides, I
could not think of allowing you to make
such sacrifices for me. To-day, therefore,
we part forever.''
"Then this is to take leave of her!
What happiness!'"
Eugenie started and trembled for joy.
Chacles stirred in tis chair, and Eu
genia felt a chill of dread. Luckily, how
ever, he did not wake. She went on read
ing.
Eugenie laid down the letter that
seemed to her so full of love, and gave
herself tip to the pleasure of watching
her sleeping cousin; the dreams and
hopes of youth seemed to hover over hie
fiice, and then and there she vowed to
herself that she would love him always.
She glanced over the other letter; there
could be no harm in reading it, iie
thought, she should only receive fresh
proofs of the noble qualities with which,
womanlike, she had invested the man
whom she had idealized.
"My Dear Alphonse," so It began, "by
the time this letter ia in your hands I
Khali have no friends left I am commis
sioning you to settle some matters of
business. I have nothing, and have made
up my mind to go out to the Indies. I
have Just written to all the people to
whom any money is owing, and the In
closed list le as accurate as I can make
tt from memory. I think the sale of my
books, furniture, carriages, horses and
so forth ought to bring Id sufficient to
pay my debts. I only mean to keep back
few trinkets of little value, which will
to some war toward trading; venture.
Yon might send my gnna and anything
of that tort to me here. And yon must
take 'Briton;' no one would ever five me
anything like as much as the splendid
Miaul la worth; I would rather give him
to row, yoa mast regard him as the
Saournlng ring which dying man leaves
It kit will to hit executor. Ferry, Breil
asaa ft Go. have been building a very
eosnfortable travel lag carriage for me,
tat their have not aeat It horn jet; got
to kaas it if yon eta, and if akey
to have U left an their hands.
the beat arrangaamt yaa ean for
tm, and 4 all m cm to Mr ay lienor
tafNaasiafcfea
la wMck I laead."
7 M
DE BALZAC
the lighted candles, she hastened on tip
toe to her own room.
Once there, it was not without keen
feeliug of pleasure that she opened one
of the drawers in an old oak chest. From
ttm drawer she took a large red velvet
money bag, with gold tassels, and the re-
mains of a golden fringe about it, a bit
of faded splendor that had belonged to
her grandmother. In the pride of her
heart she felt its weight, and joyously
set to work to reckon op the value of her
little hoard, sorting out the different
coins. Imprimis, twenty Portuguese moi
dores as new and fresh as when they
were struck in 1725, in the reign of John
.; each was nominally worth a hundred I
and sixty-five francs. Item, five geno
vines, rare Genoese coins of a hundred
livres each, the current value was per
haps about eighty francs, but collectors
would give a hundred for them. These
had come to her from old M. de la lier
telliere. Item, three Spanish quadruple
of the time of Philip V., bearing the date
17'JJ. Mme. Bentillet had given them to
her, one by one, always with the mme
little speech: "There's a little yellow
bird, there's a buttercup for you, worth
ninety-eight livre! Take great car? of
it, darling; it will lie the flower of your
flock." Item, a hundred Dutch ducats,
struck at the Hague in lToii, and each
worth about thirteen francs. Item, a
few coins dear to a mier' heart, .three
rupees bearing the sign of the Balance,
and five with the sign of the Virgin
stamped upon them, all pure go! 1 of
twenty-four carats the magnificent coin
of the Oreat Mosnil. The weight of
metal in them alone was worth thirty
een francs forty centimes, but ama
teurs who love to finger gold would give
fifty francs for such coin as those. Item,
the double napoleon that had beeu given
to her the day before, and which she
had carelessly slipped into the red velvet
bag.
CHAPTKR XIII.
Eugenie clapped her hand in exulta
tion at the eight of her riches, like a
child who is compelled to find some out
let for overflowing glee. Father and
daughter bad both counted their wealth
that night, he in order to sell his gold.
she thut she might cant it abroad on the
waters of love. She put the money back
ii the old purse, took it up, and vent
upstairs with it without a moment's hes
itation. Her cousin's distress was the
one thought in her mind; she did not even
remember that it was night, convention
alities were uterly forgotten: her on
seionce did not reproach her. the was
strong in ber happiness and in her !oe.
As she stood upon the threshold with
the caudle in one hand and the velvet
ba(j in the other, Charles awoke, saw
his cousin, and was struck dumb with
astonishment. Eugenie came forward,
set the light on the table, and said with
an unsteady voice:
"Cousin Charles, I have to ask your
forgiveness for something I have done;
it was very wrong, but if you will over
look it, heaven will forgive me."
"What can it be?" asked Charles,
rubbing his eyes.
"I have been reading those two letters.
Do you ask how I came to do it?" she
went on, "and why I came up here? In
deed, I do not know now; and I am al
most tempted to feel glad that I read
the letters, for through reading them I j
have come to know your heart, your soul,
your plans the ditliculty that you are in
tor want oi uimiey "
"My dear cousin "
"Hush! hush! do not let us wake any
body. Here are the savings of a poor
girl who has no wants," she went on,
opening her purse. "You must take
them, Charles. This morning I did not
know what money was; you have taught
me that it is simply a means to an end,
that is all. A cousin is almost a brother;
surely you may borrow from your sister."
Eugenie, almost as much a woman as
a girl, had not foreseen a refusal, but
ber cousin was silent. The silence was
so deep that the beating of her heart was
audible. Her pride was wounded by her
cousin's hesitation, but the thought 3f
his dire need came vividly before her,
and she fell on her knees.
"I will not rise," she said, "until you
have taken that money. Oh! cousin, say
something, for pity's sake! so that I may
know that you respect me, that you are
generous, that
This cry, wrung from her by a noble
despair, brought tears to Charles' eyes;
he would not let her kneel, she felt his
hot tears on her hands, and sprang to
her purse, which she emptied out upon
the table.
"Well, then. It Is 'Yes,' is it not?" she
said, crying for joy. "Do not scruple
to take it, cousin; you will be quite rich.
That gold will bring yoa luck, you know.
Some day you shall pay it back to me,
os. if you like, we will be partners; I will
submit to any conditions that you may
impose. But you ought not to make so
much of this gift."
Charles found words at last.
"Yes, Eugenie, I should have a little
soul indeed if I would not take it. But
nothing for nothing, confidence for con
fidence." "What do you mean?" the asked,
startled.
"Listen, dear cousin, I have there "
He interrupted himself for a moment
to show her a square box In a leather
case, which stood on the chest of draw
ers. "There Is something there that is dear
er to me than life. That box was a pres
ent from my mother. Since this morning
I have thought that if she could rise
from her tomb she herself would sell
the goid that in her tenderness she lav
ished on this dressing case, but I cannot
do it it would seem like aacrilege."
Eugenie graaped ber cousin's hand
tightly in hers at these last words.
"No," he went on after a brief pnose,
during which they looked at each other
with tearful eyea, "I do not want to pull
It to piece, nor to risk taking it with
ma on my wanderings. I will leave It in
your keeping, dear Eugenie. Never did
one friend con Ada a mora sacred trust
to another; bat yoa ahall judge for roar
aelf."
Ha draw the box from the leather
eaaa, opened It, and dieplayed before
ala eeaata'a antoniahed eyea dreaalng
t with gala mi tuwm
skill of the crafUman had only added to
the value of the metal.
"All that jou are admiring is noth
ing." he said, preening the spring of a
secret drawer. There U something
which is more than all the world to me,"
he added, sadly, aud be took out two
portraits, handsomely set in pearls.
"How lovely (.he is! Is not this the
lady to whom you were writing?
"No," he said, with a litle smile; "that
ie my mother aud this is my father
your aunt and uncle. Eugenie, I could
beg and pray of you on my knees to keep
tins treasure safe for me. If I should
die and lote your little fortune, the gold
will mike good your loss; and to you
alone can I leave those two portraits, for
you alone are worthy to take charge of
tb?m' .but ,do ltt .them P"M lnto "a
other hands; rather destroy them. Well,
it is ye, is it not T "
As the last words were spoken, she
gave bim for the first time such a loving
glance as a woman can. a bright glance
that reveals a depth of feeling within
her. He took her hand and kissed it.
"Angel of purity! what ia money hence
forward between us two? It is nothing.
j is it not? But the feeling which alone
gave it worth will be everything."
"You are like your mother. Was her
voice as musical as yours, I wonder?"
"Oh, far more sweet."
"Yes. for you," she said, lowering her
eyelids. "Come, Charles, yoa mu.-t go
to bed: I wish it. You are very tired.
Good night."
Her cousin had caught her hand In
toth of his; she drew it gently away,
and went down to her room, her cousin
lighting the way. In the doorway of her
room they loih paused.
"Oh! why am I a ruined man?" he
said.
"My father is rich. I believe," she re
turned. "My poor child," said Charles, as he
set one foot in her wim, and propped
himself against the wall by the doorway,
"if jour father had been rich, be would
not have let my father die, and you
would not be lodged ill such a poor piace
as this; l,e would live altogether in quite
a different style."
"But he has Froidfotid; there is Noy
ejss. Vm. He has vinevards aud mead
ow, "
"They are not worth talking about,"
said Charles scornfully. "If your father
had even tweu'y-four thousand livres a
year, do you suppose that you would
sleep in a bare, cold room like this?
That is where my treasures will be," he
went on, nodding toward the old chest, a
device by which he tried to conceal his
thoughts from her.
"Oo," she said, "and try to sleep,"
anil she barred his entrance into an un
tidy room. Charles drew back, and the
cousins bade each other a smiling Kod
night.
They fell asleep, to dream the same
dream, and from that time forward
naries rounu mat tnere were still roses
to be gathered in the world in spite of
his mourning. The next morning Mme.
Gmrnlpt saw her daughter walking with
Charles before brcnkf.ist. lie was still
sad and subdued. He had been brought
very low in his distress, and the thought
of the future weighed heavily upon him.
"My father will not ie back before
dinner," said Eugenie, in reply to an
anxious look in her mother's eyes.
The tones of Eugenie's voice had
grown strangely sweet; it was easy to
see from her face and manner that the
cousins bad some thought in common.
Their souls bad rushed together while
perhaps a yet they scarcely knevc the
power or the nature of this foire which
w as binding them to each other.
Toward 5 o'clock that evening Gran
det came back from Angers. He had
made fourteen thousand francs on his
gold, and carried a government certifi
cate be.nriug interest until the day when
it should be transferred into rentes. He
had left Cornoiller aJso in Angers to look
after the horses, which had been nearly
foundered by the night journey.
"I have been to Angers, wife," ha
said; "and I am hungry."
Nanon brought in the soup. Des Graa
sins came to take his client's instruction!
just as the family were sitting down t
dinner. Grandet had not as much at
seen his nephew all this time.
(To be eontlnuedi
WATER POWER IN MEXICO.
Enormous Amount of Hydraulic Force
Going to Waste.
Modern Mexico has often had occa
sion to call attention to the fact that,
though fuel Is very wane In Mexico,
still the country is supplied with aa
abundance of power for the movement
of prime motors. We refer, of course,
Id water power. The construction of
electric plants for the purpose of fur
nishing light and power has hardly be
gun in proportion to the demand and
the water power available.
Mexl'-o, which undoubtedly standi
In much greater need of electric power
than either France or Switzerland, on
acount of the higher price of fuel, Is
supplied with an almot unlmited
amount of hydraulic force. In the cen.
tral mesa of the republic, which aver
ages 6.0U0 feet above sea level, rise a
great number of rivers and streams,
the Balsas, I.erma, Tamesl and Panuco
being but a few of the more import
ant. While no accurate estimate hat
been made of the available water pow
er. It Is probable that at least 15,O0,
000 horse power are running to waste
at the height of the dry season, I.esa
than one-half of 1 per cent of thla
amount, or say, 75.0O0, Is bein; util
ized for motive power, lnclud ng that
used directly by flour mills, and ab
sorbed by electric plants for transmis
sion to distant point. In the City of
Mexico, under present conditions, It
probably coats at lortat $190 a year,
Mexican money, per horse power to
produce power from steam, and even
in the most favored district, whrrt
fuel is cheap, it will reach $121.
The coal barons of the United States
are, perbapa, her most solid aristoc
racy, and those who get control of "La
Huille Blanche" (the white coal) of
thla country vdll bold In the near fu
ture a much more Important position.
The power Is here, on top of the
ground. It does not have to be mined
or transported. It will carry itself with
but a wire to go on, and Mexico Is
conotry that offers many conditions
favorable to glgsntle Industrial eiaa
Prifc Mod" Memlea,
l ux Croquette.
Four hard boiled ggs. three table
ipoonfuls of cream, butter the site of
1 large nutmeg, a heaping saltspoonful
if salt, a dash of iwpper. When the
'jrgs are very bard and perfectly cold,
"ub through a tine wire sieve, add
he cream, salt and pepper, beating In
radua!ly. Melt the butter and stlr-lu.
As egg sometimes vary in size.
ittle thickening may be needod to give
:he right consistency. Use the finest
:-racker dust, adding a little at a time
Jiitll the mixture can lie moulded Into
very soft balls. Hull In cracker dust
ind drop Into a d'-ep kettle of hot fat
o fry. When they are brown, strain
u a wire sieve and serve with lettuce
uilail. For this puqiose the eroquet-
:cs should lie cold. When hot, serve
ith crisp bacon.
Halted Kmuts,
For six eggs take four tablespoonfula
f good gravy free from fat. Put
-he Kravy in g shallow ple-dlsh and
brt-ak the egg Into it. season with
i"Tmt aim sait, inn! sprinkle over
them a handful of bread crumb.
Bak In a iiil k oven for live minutes;
Lake the eggs up carefully and place
cacli on a round of toast on n hot dish.
Keep hot while the gravy Is boiled
up in a saucepan with fcoine chopped
parsley, and. if liked, a little shallot ;
pour over the eggs nnd serve.
Corn Suuted In Cream.
Take six ear of Juicy, tender corn.
m! cut from the cob. Place in a
stunt-pan with a gill of hot white
tnnf, half n cupful of cream and half
;i talili'spootiful of butter; season with
half a t(asH)iiftil of salt, dusting of
white pepper, and sallsjumiiful of nut
meg. Cook gently for ten minute on
back of range; place in hot dish and
serve.
Precaution in Case of Fire.
Should a tiro break nut In the chim
ney n wet blanket should lie nailed
to the upper ends of the inantelplei c,
o iis to cover the opening entirely.
The lire will then go out of Itself. In
nler to be nhlc to lix the blanket two
j'Knohs should be permanently fixed in
the upper ends of tin Inn ntelie
which the blanket may be hitched.
Canned I'cas.
Shell the pea and lay in cold w ater
for a half hour. Iirain and boil in salt--d
Mater until tender but not broken,
firain out the peas and pack into heat
1 fruit jar., returning the liquid to
;he lire. Hull up this liquid and while
still boiling Oil the jars to overflowing
with It, sealing Immediately. Stand on
Jielr head in a cool, dark place.
Hlce (sou p.
Wash four ounces of rice, put It on
the fire with three pints of boiling,
water and a pinch of salt. Iloll for
ten minutes, drain, and pour cold
water through it. Put the rice back
n the saucepan with time pints of
good soup; let It cook gently twenty
live to thirty minutes. Berve with
grated Parmesan cheese.
Buttermilk Pie.
Buttermilk pie should be prepared as
follows: Beat two eggs to a froth with
half a teacupful of Btigar, a teaspoon
fill of flour, one pint of buttermilk and
tablespoonful of butter. Whisk all
the Ingredients together thoroughly
ind bake with one crust, as you would
1 fruit pie. Add any spice or flavor
ing desired.
Almond Custard,
One pint of milk, one-fourth cupful
)t sugar, one-fourth pound of almonds,
Dlanched and pounded fine, two eggs
i ml two teaspoonfuls of rosewater.
Stir over the fire till thick as cream,
llien rwt In oven till firm. Just be
fore serving cover with whipped
cream, tinted delicately with straw
berry syrup or red currant jelly.
Virginia Corn Muflina.
Three eggs, well beaten; two heaping
nips Indian corn nxml and one of
flour; sift Into the flour two teaspoon
fuls baking powder; add one table-
noonful melted lard, three cups sweet
milk, one teaspoonful salt; beat well;
bake quickly in ring or small patty
pans; serve hot.
Huxared Kjuuah.
Select a firm, sweet squash, a Hub
bard by preference, and break Into
neat serving pieces. Parboil for fif
teen minutes. Place In a baking pan,
sprinkle each piece thickly with grat
ed rmiple sugar, place a small nut of
button on each, and run Into a slow
oven to finish cooking.
To Remove Scorch Mark.
Bake an onion, then squeeze out the
luice and mix It with an ounce of ful
ers earth, a wlneglassful of vinegar,
jnd a small quantity of shredded soap.
Heat together till the soap has melted,
leave till cold, and then apply to the
scorched linen. Let It dry on, and
then wash In Hie usual way.
Lottie Cake,
One teacup sugar, two eggs, one
ourth teacup butter, one-half teacup
meet milk, one and .one-half teacups
dour, In which you have thoroughly
mixed two teaspoonfula baking pow
der, one-half nutmeg, or one teaspoon
ful lemon essence. Rake very care
fully. Nice In layer or loaf.
Ilrolled Beef and Maatsrooai Baace.
Stew the mushroom you have for
iise In butter In a saucepan, and when
done nut them In the center of a rtn
0 mashed potatoes. Place around the
potatoes slice of cold beef boiled over
, ciMt nr. Bee son with pepper and
salt, and nerve with brown gravy.
WHAT WOMK.V WEAR.
STYLES FOR THOSE WHO WANT
TO LOOK PRETTY.
Some of the Summer Prmen Are In
deed Elaborate Creations - Corwet
Are Chaugiuif ia Shape and Impart
ing from the Straight Front.
j New York eorreftpoo deuce:
O It S E T 8 are
changing again.
The uew ilmpe de
parts only a little
from the straight
front in vogue, but
that little take
away from the
straightuess wom
en generally bare
been admiring for
two seasons, and
the wonder Is that
makers have dared
to depart from
the out and out
straight front. Vet
much as many
women will de
plore this change,
the cloud has an
appreciable silver
lining. For one thing, it will bring uip
'nto greater conspicuousuess. Women of
large figure will not fancy this, lull those
Jf finely drawn lines will bid it welcome.
Even more women will like the new tig
ore because waists are thereby made to
wiiiti: in now.xs and
look smaller, departure from the straight
line being accompanied by closer draping
of the figure.
onsly suppressed liking for free trimming.
To realize how many are taking advan
tage of such opportunity, look about you
and likely you'll be surprised at the dis
play of subdued elnboratones.
What ordinarily are styled warm
browns are to have a run for the remain-
cl !. t 1 1 .-1 tt u., rn 1 1 jumm. O?
course they may not be spoken of as
warm, for they do look that, so call 'em
soft. But their warniness is as nothing
to that of orange, which is current in es
tablished shades and has new sorts be
sides. They seem hardly suitable for hot
weather, yet as sparingly used on gowns
and millinery are free of offense. As
cooler dajB approai'h they doubtless will
be employed fea riessly. Likely the wom
an who chose the wannest of these shad
ings for her dress material would he ex
cused, for these arc days when you may
suit yourself almost regsrdless. The
abundance of white dresses is proof of
STYLISH MANAOEMK.Yr OP COLORS.
this. At the opening of the season It was
announced that white would lack stylish
endorsement, since it was so nearlv th
whole thing last summer. But first a few
and then many women declared for
white, and hy the middle of July it was
to be found in the finest comnanr. In
dresses of the moat elaborate sort and
the beat taste, though not nearly so num
erous aa last season. Selections for the
first three of the accompanying pictured
modele were made from thla white array
The Initial sketch was of a .
whit etaalae, with trimming of Meiicaa
, . -l I,uli. Hide
IS,'
u (nit aim - - ,
side in the next P'.t.ire
I .1. ta.i,.Ia t; -
China .ilk trioruicj .
u , iitene and bioe ho- . " "''
tinned .ub r-oicre la-, i.-r-
il" Tin. I-, "f ' 7"!
I t, ,l,e hiten.-s. of l:-t un.Uicr. I he
. nl he, of blue a4 green the -the,
.ires.- w,re distinctly "- "f ''"
-..r.i. ,1r.-.,y -aw liun"
showing ia the rJ.. but the wr
1 t.r to this .r.sluct a simple
!f..lk refer to this U
i, distressing .he U"
they quote prohibitive pri.c for gar
ment not elaborate of - heme hut finish
ed with novelty trimming. The embel
lishment may not I -r, rich nor ..eed
it. arrangement 1 cinphcsted nor high
U ingenious, but if it i n duplicated m
the showing, the figure it is likely to
fetch is high- Vet the judicious '"-H'
ran get around these high pr T
care in selection from less costly grade
can cn.t out away ahead. So too. : she
who can manage the trimming herself of
such bodices a the to at the right In
the second of these picture she can ac
complish wonder St little outlay. To
such these two models should be help
fully uggetful. The first was white
taffeta and heavy white faggotting. and
the other was white dotted ilk and white
mbroiderv and fringe. Collar sets for
the emU-liuhmeiit of such wuit are to
be had, and here 1 the same trouble a
with the trimmed wait-the novel sort
often are sway up ' l'r" " ""r1
are big stocks to select from, and usually
a satisfactory choice can ! made.
Itlues and green- havi p.,s.eed mark
ed favor ever since lire mini! weathel
opened. Slid Ho- liking b.r them is IIIl.ll
?!:p.wt.TR waists.
iniuished, standing now as one of tlii
more marked preference of the summer.
It has seemed at time as if the combi
nation of blue and green was the most
swagger color scheme, but there are a
many others that It is impossible to ac
cord first place to any one. When theni
combination were first taking hold, tin
use of greens alone was well to the fore,
mid since then the standing of blue with-
mm Urttvivs, AUtf -,nO
situation offer a choice of many thing
but the output of iipw ideas in colm
schemes la none the less active for this,
and your s'ylish dresser should watch
these new fancies closely. At the left in
the concluding picture i shown one of
the newr tricks with blue. Till dresi
was blue liberty silk, am) the bows Bu()
the rosette holding the shirring wer
satin ribbon. Next this is a blue and
green striped silk, with green velvet trim
mings and white cloth vef. The third
model of this sketch showed a new finik
for gray, which all summer so far hat
had msny advocates. The gr.iv voih
waa finished with whit, .stln bands em
broidered with ailrer beads, n ah. "JT
touch.. .. l ""ii. utner cola
besotlful ribbon, tying l .
The femiulne world is auii. .,..
than have been dre.d 0f hltuerti
iImIi