The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1897-12-19

I well Tor once or twice, but he is bound to
! feel more or less struck and in the end
| Will avoid you. After all, your belledom
is not for one or two years, but perhaps
| for good many, especially in America
| where the girls marry late, and you don't
want to make friends for only one season.
! Accept attention with so sweet a will
nngness that the other will be positively
glad he offered it, ana if you have to de-
cline, do 1t as graciously and as kindly as
you can.
Never be late for dinner, or keep any
| one waiting, and make a point of always
| speaking as soon as possible and most
deferentially, to the elderly people in a
room.
with these small hints as to the man.
ners and the greater one as to sweetness.
| winch should be in our lives what the
warp Is in some beautiful piece of tepes-
try, young girl can thoroughly enjoy life
ana ind warm place in the hearts about
| her. ,.,.-
This is the true story says a writer in
the Courier-Journal of how an American
woman bought, of the elder Worth, a
| very gorgeous gown, al deliberately deco
rated with sable tails, for very little
| money and two bottles of the best Ken
lucky whisky. Worth was a Scotchman,
| whose principle was never to sell any
| thlnS cheap to an American woman; there
lore he shook his head positively at the
| price n lady from the states proposed to
| give Tor a special arrangement in sables
| and blue velvet and she went home pa
thetlc and discouraged to her hotel and
her husband. Her husband, contrary to
| all precedent, refused to increase her
check, but he promised to help her, and
the next day, an odd-looking parcel under
| MS arm, drove with his wife
| TO the famous establishment
on the Rue de la PaiX. There
| was a pleasant private interview with the
| peculiar old man milliner, who still refused
10 do all the lady wished. When rising to
leave, however, her husband placed on the
table two tail bottles of Kentucky rye,
and pleasantly asked Mr.. Worth to try the
| whisky and give an opinion of it's merits.
| The next day came a queer little note
! from the old gentleman. He begged to
| say it would be his greatest pleasure to
supply all the velvet and sables madame
wanted, and did monsieur have any more
Oh the very excellent whisky, which had
| been tasted and found quite celectial, and
| of which MIR. Worth would like to pur-
| chase at once a dozen bottles, Hardly
| had this note been received when round
! came big box containing a gown, a
| dream of fur and velvet, done in Worths
very best style, and along with it note
| from the son of the great dressmaker. 1t
was an entreaty, a command, that not an
| other drop of the fatal whisky be sent to
! the old gentleman, who had already dis
| posed of both bottles, taken to his bed,
| and, by the aid of two physicians, might
! be carried through a spell of such pro-
| found inebriety as only a Scotchman can
| assume and hope to come out of alive.
The dress was a bargain, it was true, but
/ the lady'S satisfaction in it was tempered
| by many pangs of conscience, and the hus-
band felt justified in writing Mr. Worth
a tarradiddle to the effect that he had no
more whisky of that brand nearer than
| his cellars in Chicago.
The Quiet House.-Mrs. NJ. E. Juhu, in
| Montreal Witness
| Oh, mothers worn and weary
With cares that never cease,
With never time for pleasure,
With days that have no peace;
With little hands to hinder
And feeble steps to guard.
| With tasks that lie unfinished
Deem not your lot too hard.
know a house where playthings
Are hidden out of sight;
| No sound of childish footsteps
Is heard from morn till night;
| No tiny hands to litter
That pull things all awry;
No baby hurts TO pity
AS the quiet days go by.
| An0 she, Ine Sdu-ey6u HOlneT-
| What would she give to-day
To feel your cares and burdens,
To walk your weary way?
All! happy she, yea blessed,
Could she again but see
The rooms all strewn with playthings,
And the children round her knee!
''I hear that Mrs A is going to re-
| turn to New York after her long stay
! abroad" said one of her old acquaint-
i ances, speaking of a fashionable woman,
who, half dozen years ago, says the New
! York Tribune, had been the heroine of
much discussed scandal, about which at
! the time the opinions of the social world
were almost equally divided. What do
you suppose people will do about her?'
! she continued. "Wil she be visited, do
you think?'
''What do you mean to do about it your
self"
Il shall act just as If nothing had ever
| happened" was the answer. There is
practically a statute of limitation for all
social offenses; five years are enough to
! condone anything, or, at least, long enough
for people to forget it. Things cannot be
| talked about forever; they had far bet
ter die out, and the old motto, Forget and
forgive is paraphrased by society into
Forget and don't care There is too much
to do and to think Of to keep track of
every ones misdemeanors. You'll see in
the case of Mrs A.; the old stories will
hardly be thought of, and it is far better
! they should not be remembered The poor
little woman has had her lesson. viola
tout and it is to be hoped that she Will
profit by It'll!
1t has become almost an English truism,
| saws the New York Tribune, to say that
! American women carry themselves badly
! and that their walk is ungraceful, but it
| is a fact so apparent to the observer that
| Il cannot be too frequently reiterated or
| brought to the attention of both mothers
| and daughters. Is there no possible way
of inducing our girls to throw back their
heads and their shoulders? They are will
| ing enough to give due attention to what
is becoming in other things, the arrange
ment of their hair, the cut and color of
their clothes, even the adjustment Of a
! curl or a veil, or the effect of a bow Of
ribbon. Why Is It. therefore, that they
apparently cannot be brought TO consider
what is so much more essential to their
good looks than any of these tribes; /. e..
their own way of holding their heads and
| their bodies2
1.-THE proper carriage" says a successful
dancing MASTER "and the one that Is