Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune, May 18, 1873, Page 6

Newspaper of Chicago Daily Tribune dated May 18, 1873 Page 6
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6 . Defects in the Laying-Out of the City. A Sanitary Objection to the Arranging o: Streets According to the Cardinal Points; Fearful Monotony and Great Incon venience of Straight Streets, r The Parks—-What Xounger Cities May Learn from Our Ex- perience. from Jfr. Cleveland't tcork on u Land&capt-A reh\Uo~ lure.” Chicago ifl situated on a vast plain extending in every direction for many miles beyond the city limits. ' • ■ .. PEOBABLT KO CITY EVEH HAS .inch an opportunity as hers to secure every pos sible advantage which the situation admits, by the exorcise of. judicious forethought in the preparation of a design -adapted to the necessi- • jdes which were certain to arise. Other cities have grown up by gradual accretion in a long series of years, but Chicago has grown from a mere village to qn immense city in tho course of p, single generation, and many of her active and energetic citizens of to-day have shot wild game where now are located some of her busiest thoroughfares. Her founders were always sanguine of her future ■■ destiny, and from an early day declared their conviction that she would become one of !tholeading commercial cities of the country. They had the history and . example of all tho cities of the world to teach them the necessities, and warn them of the dan gers which must arise, and which never could be rectified if hot seen and provided for in tho original design. The site was a dead level, Offering no natural features to affect the design, except the lake and the river, the former com prising the only object worthy of consideration for esthetic effect, while tho latter furnished a secure harbor for lake craft, and must of -course ■ clwavs be intimately connected with the business Interests of the city. KO EVIDENCE OP SPECIAL EEFEBENCE to these features appears in the original plan, and the only important provision which indicates the faith of the founders in. the future great ness of the city, is in the breadth of the streets, which is generally from sixty-six to eighty feet, —a most important provision certainly, and one which is so often neglected that it reflects credit npon the jnd gment of those who exercis ed such forethought. . 3 Within the present city limits are comprised aboUt"B00 miles of streets, and, with the excep tion of. ten or twelve whose course is diagonal to that of the general system, and only one of which comes within a mile of the central business portion of the city, ail the streets run due north and south and oast and west. : ,fEhe town having originally started on these lines, the great city has groim upby simple projections of the same, the diagonals being old country roads whose convenience was too well established to admit of their removal. Before going farther, it is worthy of remark that the arranging of the streets according to the cardinal' points involves A SANHAB? OBJECTION of no mean import. No fact is better estab lished than the necessity of sunlight to. the highest degree of animal 'health, and no constitution can long endure, without ill effect, the habitual daily privation of its health-giving power. City houses at best can rarely be so well provided for in this respect as those which stand alone r as is. generally the in the country; and it is all the more impor tant ib at. every, facility should be afforded to se cure as much as possible of its genial influence. But every house on the south ride .of _a ■ street running east and west must. have its front rooms, which ere generally its living rooms, en tirely secluded from the sun during the winter, and for most of the. day. during the summer. This fact, coupled with that of the indoor life of American, andparticularly Western, women, is enough to account fora very largo share of the nervous debility which so generally prevails. If the rectangular system must be ad hered to in city arrangement, it would bo far better tbat'the lines of streets should be horth west and southeast, and the cross streets at right angles with them, than as now disposed. u ■ The present city limits embrace an area eight -miles in length by five in breadth, and, with the ■Sseptlon of the few diagonal streets above al- Bfed to, the city is simply avast collection of- - WS&J* ' SQUARE BLOCKS OF BUILDINGS, iQvrdod by old-night etrDetSr-whoso.weriT lengths become fearfully monotonous to ono who io tra der frequent necessity of traversing them. ; Hero and there, at wide distances .from 'each other, single squares have-been reserved for public use, and iu one or ‘two ‘of ' these squares HABOKatb WVFOBT at decobation £ts been made’by moana uf.-wiHat ig commonly known as landscape gardening, . Mountain' ranges are -introduced, Tririch are overlooked finm the chamber .windows of. the .surrounding houses; lakes of corresponding size are created apparently to afford an excuse for the construc tion rof —rustic bridges;- which —are ‘con spicuous greater distance than cither mountains 'or’ lakes. ' A light-' house three feet high, on • a • rocky promontory the size of a dining-room table, serves to warn" thf*'ducks and geese of hidden dangers of navi gation/and; this baby-house “ornamentation is tolerated in a great city which aspires to an ar»- tiatic ropntatfon ; the crowds which throngthese places in pleasant weather give evidence alike of* the popular Ipngingfor relief from the din and turmoil of the.gtreete and of facility with’ which they might be made available for purposes of instruction by a truly artistic use of objects of. natural beauty and interest. A little area in the south .part' of the city,: known as • -- r.T.I.IR PABK, >■- is a pleasing exception to the general rule, mak ing no such display of absurdities, and being' beautifully kept and richly decorated with flow;-, ers tastefully arranged in masses set in a velvet sward. ?ew people, except those in tho imrne-, dlate.vlcinity, are aware that the city is indebted for •the possession of this little gemtothe en thusiasm of. an amateur, who furnishes and watches over tho flowers and provides for the wants of the trees , and grass, and finds his ro wayd in the gratification of Iris ruling passion and~ the consciousness of the pleasure he confers on (Others. ... .1 If oaeiaa. occasion to cross any considerable portion of the city on a lino -diagonal to the uni form course of the streets; that is, if he wishes to go from the northeast to the northwest part,. pv from the northwest to the southeast, he must of ■necessity travel ■ • NEABLT ONE-THT3D FAHTHEB than would bo necessary if he could take a straight" course. - The relief afforded by the few diagonal streets which exist is but partial, because they are not systematically arranged to meet the ne cessities of the case; but they servo nevertheless to prove how valuable such a system would be, for they are always and the demand for business sites along their lines is far beyond that upon -any of the streets in their vicinity. Except in’ the' occasional in stances where these avenues afford relief, the traveler whose course lies diagonally to the cardinal points must traverse two sides of the groat square which lies' between his starting point and his destination. •He may relieve the monotony of the straight streets by taking a zig zag course, ; but he can in no wise abate one Jot of the distance. " - -Think now of the aggregate of UNNECESBABT STILES which must be traveled in the daily traffic of a great city (and a city which may be termed a vast workshop, to which it may almost be said there is “no admittance except on business the wear and tear of the teams, and the loss of lime which might have been saved by a judicious system of diagonal avenues. . - Chicago is now preparing to spend millions of dollars in constructing' x sectt-s of pahes. ....... which are necessarily very distant from the thickly-peopled districts of the city, because land in those districts is too valuable to be se cured in sufficient quantities for such a purpose. The nearest park of the now system is between' four and five miles from the Court-House, and nil of them are on the open prairie, and as yet far beyond the limits of any .semblance of city streets. ; They are situated respectively north, west, and south of the city,'and are to con nected with each other by a chain of grand ave nues or boulevards, having roadwaia on each .13 aiUoinef objects ofat- ilitmxik tractive interest., , _ .. . The arguments most relied'hpbn by the advo cates of parks have been that they servo as “ lungs to the city,” by famishing a magazine of pure air to supply the* densely-peopled districts, while they provide also aplace of resort and rec reation for the inhabitants, where they may seek relief from the turmoil of the confined streets in which their lives are passed in daily toil, and refresh themselves with the sight of trees, and grass, and flowers. But how do these conditions apply to the case we are considering? The streets of Chicago are all sufficiently wide to afford ample ventilation. There are no dense; ly-peopled, narrow, winding streets, courts, or lanes; andif there’were, what relief would tlioy get from parks five miles off ? Doubtless in time those parks will bo enclosed within the city, which will grow up around and extend far beyond them,-but itwilf be no popu lation of laboring poor that will dwell in their vicinity. The palaces of the rich will surround and overlook them, and it will be only on ah occasional holiday that the toiling denizen of the central business marts can afford the time or the means to go with his family to these dis tant gardens. That this assertion is not a mere theory, is proved by the following extracts from the report of the Central Park Commissioners for the year 1872, which has come to hand since the above was written: The large part of the people of the city to whom, from the closer quarters In which they are moat of the time confined, the park would soezn to promise the greatest advantage, cannot ordinarily leave their daily tasks, at the earnest, till after 4 o’clock; nor their homes, which in tho majority of cases are yet south of Twenty-fifth street, before 5. A visit to tho park, then, involves two trips by street cars, which, with the walk to and from them, will occupy more than an hour. The street cars on all the lines approaching the park are at 5 o’clock overcrowded, ‘ and most ifiembers of a family entering one below Twenty-fifth street will be nnablo to get a seat. Under these circumstances, the pleasure of a short visit to the park, especially in the latter part of a hot summer’s day, docs not often compensate for the fatigue and discomfort It involves, and accordingly it appears that as yet a majority of those who frequent the park are people in comfortable circumstances, and largely of families, the heads of which have either retired from business or arc ablo to leave their busi ness early in the day. Except on Sunday, and Satur day afternoons, and general holidays, the number of -residents of the dty who coma to the park in carriages is larger than of those who como by street-cars and on foot. ; . And again It' is obvious from the great difference in the rela tive numbers of people who visit the park respectively in carriages'and on foot on ordinary days, and on Sundays and holidays, that to tho great body of citi zens it is yet too difficult of access to be of uso except on special occasions; a • large majority of the visits of' ordinary short daily recreation bring made at present by the comparatively small number, who can afford to nso pleasure carriages or saddle-horses, or of those from whose houses a walk to it Is easy and agreeable. ' ■ . That Chicago should oven- now provide for fu ture certain wants, evinces commendable, wis dom'arid exceptional energy and enterprise, but if younger, cities will leam wisdom by her ex perience, and exercise an earlier forethought, they may secure - results which ore unattainable for Chicago by, having their parks and. boule vards as integral points of the city, instead of being merely ornamental appendages. - - . DRESS. Itfl.Frimory Importance to Women— in the Past* .. Carlyle declares wo have made little advance in our costuming, in what he calls the “ science of clothes,” since' ’the first savage who thought of covering his body by taking a bag and cutting holes for arm and legs. By which “ same token” we prove the ragged philosopher never watched a woman' trying ; to keep up to the valiant heart, but scant pattern, striving to make lost season’s dress look- the least bit like the thing for.present wear. - - - - It is utterly useless to try to make anything of human ilk believe that dress is not of primary importance,' that beauty .unadorned has the slightest chance, because.it is not true in fact, however excellent in theory. Let a pretty wom an neglect the amenities of dress, leavo all'the accessories of hair, lace, orribbon adornment un caied for, and go about limp, loose, and dowdy ish, with only her natural charms to counterbal ance, and see how little chance she stands for ad miration. A symmetrically ent, gracefully hang ing dress; a bright knot, artistically dis posed; a soft, dclic&to bit of lace, makes all the difference In the world in the effect .a woman produces upon the senses. It is a remarkable fact that while men make woman’s folly in dress the target, at which to let fly their sharpest witti cisms, it is for man alone that she indulges in toese-eztravaganccs. . Since, the far-away times of the Aspasias''(and before, indeed), of the livias,-Du-Barrys, Pompadours, et aL, down to the representatives of Mother Eve to day, women are what the Pericles, Al cibiades, Kings, Emperors, and poets of their - periods' make ■ Hen and ' wozneiunay exist for each other; but itisin-an Inverse'ratio; women living a great deal more for men than the converse.. To look one’s best for-, some i lordly .eye.is the natural instiactof every loving'h'Cartr To havoa fair, healthyfanr nearing complexion: around, lull, vet pliant SguferßoK. wiita shape ij;,.hands; glossy., Tfell cared Ibrana fashionably arranged bear; are all of them as much necessities to a true.-woman as th 9 bffcath"Bhe the' food She cat&—for in deed to be out of the fashion is 0 be out of the; world.' ' In the old * dag-up days of Pompeiian luxury wu find,- on mosaic painting and carving, evidence upon ■evidence,'like Ossa upon Pelion piled, - of. how those physical requirements were felt, pro foundly and religiously attended to. ; The fair Pompeiian, laved her body in warm, scented baths of asses’ or goats’ milk, lying in Imurioneness for an hour y nay, an hour was the merest point of .time, with, her .when so em ‘ ployed’; often a bath occupied the entire- morn ing.. In. consequence,..her flesh was..as dejiz, cately tinted' a white as the inner loaf of a ■ newly ‘Opened tea-rose, " of * as satin-like toi-' , tore as the petals of a rails; lily.. Venus Aphro dite, coming uT all her lovely perfectness from the sea foam, was her essential type. Theeo eame Pompeiian beauties, by the way, ;waTked,'lalkei and strove to be enchanting' after the Greek styles as thoroughly as any of our own fair ones strive to-day to emulate the seductive grace of the Parisieune. Next to the ekm, the belles of, that - buried age, and - their Greek models also, wore a garment of cambric; , then * a band * called ' itrophium\ which supported the bosom without confining it; since ' ■ nothing : would have been considered more shocking than straightening up the figure in corsets, bipdingit up in whalebone splints I—the softly natural curves, the undulat ing swell, being thought the true hue of beauty inall sorts'of artistic forms‘in life as well os. stone.. The maker, of the. strophinzn was as much prized as the corset-maker of onr day. - j ‘Over this band was always worn a jacket, with sleeves, made of-the .finest wool. Then came the graceful tunics, the length of which was ev idence of the character of the dome it adorned. This .form of. drees was equally the custom among the Boman fairs, as among the Greek and Pompeiian.' :. . A. mantle I (the artistic grace in the arrange ment of which the most celebrated French modiste of to-day cannot equal), the manner of wearing which, under the right breast, oyer. the,, left, and thrown across the shoulder, was* as un varying as - the color, which was always white,™ and which one of theirpoets called “woven wind clouds,”-'was thei invariable dress. for walk ing. How the endless; variety of form, style, and'shade _of to-day’s, promenadors would have puzzled ' and amazed them. A nude • Venus 'oh to© walls of Pompeii has upon the head a hand of gold, bracelets on the wrist, a heavy gold chain around the lovely throat, and the fingers are loaded with rings, thus evidencing, how attractive wore jewels to the belles of that era. Indeed, the acrins, or jewel caskets,- discovered in toe excavations show a wonderful love for these precious things. Boman ladies were excessively fond of jewels in their hair, on the neck, to clasp toe flowing drapery at the shoulders, over the bosom and about too waist; bracelets, necklaces, anklets, and rings,—they wore them everywhere,' and of toe most elaborate styles. . * The jeweled comb and pins for the hair were 1 of the most varied character. Venus chiseled in gold, her hair gathered in one hand, while the other ‘ held a mirror $ Psyche! kissing Cupid; Ceres fondling a dolphin; Bacchus wooing Ari adne—strango subjects for hair-pins—have all been found in Herculaneum. ! Nets of gold thread, others of strings of precious stones were common methods of confining the hair also.- Nothing-seems, however,, to have been Vo fa vored a subject for jewel ornament as the snake form—rings, bracelets, armlets, and even head bands were so made. Bat not alone did they love diamonds, rubies, pearls, opals; and all other precious * stones caught ' in' ■' meshes •of • gold," ’ but they were deyoted to flowers; The Boman beauties wore. chaplets of itho imbsfc fragrant upon, head, neck,, and.arms. But for some singular now unexplained, save that it may have had some reference to the orgies practised at toe feasts of Bacchus;-no decent woman ever wore flowers in public in toe XIII? CHICAGO DAILY TRIBUNE -SUNDAY. . jU6 uk; indeed, a law forbade thqn wearing bo much as a single flow* by ; day. . The fair Homan's practices to enhance the charms of nature were the sub* jects of many witty satires at the hands of Ovid, Juvenal, Horace, and all the poetic host of that age. As our ladies in these days have like measure meted out to them by the would-be wits, it may comfort them to remember there is nothing new under the sun in this or anything else. On no portion of the toilette did Homan ladies bestow more care- than the arrange ment of their hair. Gray locks wore on abomination, and a soap called pUa) mattiac®, imported from Germany, was said to remedy the -evu. False hair of a light hue, then as now, was . largely used, but, as in the case of the Italian oeantiea, la chevelure rouge, or what Rosalind calls 11 the dissembling color,” (refer ring to tho tradition regarding tho color of tho V>a.ir of Judas Iscariot having been rod) was much admired; red or chestnut tresses wore most fashionable, ilartial compares beautiful hair to tho color of the golden field ripe for tho harvest. To bo without hair was a ground of reproach; indeed, there is a legend which relates the priest ly tonsure to have been derived from an insult offered St. Petor at Antioch, when “they shaved him like a fool.” « Fans and parasols wore signs of gro&t wealth and elegance; indeed, the exquisite workmanship and material used in both made them a most ex pensive luxury’ only possible to the rich. Bings seem, however, to have bean the most essential of ornaments, being, indeed, a sign of authority, ancient as well as symbolical. They wore worn in Egypt in Joseph’s time, as wo loam from Holy Writ, and wore the badge of author ity among the Persian rulers. The rings of the Boman knight had their size determined by law pthoy were a port of the insignia of the priests of Jupiter, a eastern which the Boman Catholic Bishops seem to have inherited from them. It will bo remembered that the .Doge of Venice always wedded the Adriatic with a ring upon taking possession of the kingdom. The Boman ladies were limited to two, a greater num ber being considered a sign of immorality. The Princess Strozzi, of our day, not long ago appeared at her fancy ball in the dress which had once been worn by the Princess Strozzi who reigned a Queen of love and beauty in the fourteenth century, Louisa or Lucia by name. Herself a poetess, she was sister of the celebrated Tito Vospasiauo, a poet of no mean reputation, and mother of Matteo Bojardo, who wrote ‘* L’Orlandolnn&m -orato.” This dress, preserved for centuries, was : so heavy .with jewels and goldeu cloth of damask that, immediately after the arrival of the last guest, the Princess was obliged to change it for a less weighty costume. .••••■ As wc pause upon the stepping-stones made by the centuries and review the ages one by one, we find evidences of fabulous prodigality in dress, both of men and women. Elizabeth of England, for instance, whan she said her ter rible adiento life, loft eight hundred dresses be hind her. The wonderfully erratic Princess Mottomich, of our own day, who is always doing something sensational in the way of dress, appeared a few years since at a Court ball, in a toilet composed entirely.of .ostrich feathers, which is said to have cost the unheard of sum of Dvors2o,ooo. from Milton down to tho writers in onr morn ing's paper—who fling philippics at tho”weaker sex—it xa ono and tlio eamd 'belief. "With him they aro all ready to exclaim: “Oh.- these women! these women! There is no living with them because of their follies, and no living with out them, —plainly because of their charms.” And charms.-confess yo ally men and women, is another naino for dress. Tor, after all, is not one much more disposed to fall upon tho knees of their heart before an exquisitely robed woman, arrayed in softly flowing raiment, ele gantly-adorned, and yet seemingly nncorccious of her adornment, than beforo some angular female, severely simple*in stiff alpaca and cot ton lace?' Does not tho soft white hand creep ing out from the delicate cobwebs of lacey frius seem more likely to bring tho'blessing of relief to your aching brow, oh, fellow-man, os its per fumed . tenderness lies like a flake newly fallen upon it, than those angular biown fingers, which seem all bones, and which are too practical to be delicate, too removed above tho follies of woman ly weakness to be silly in a womanly way ?—Mar garet Field in the New York Mail. BY THE SHORE OF THE RIVER. Throngt the gray willows the Weak winds are raving Here on tha shore, with its drift-wool and sands: Over the river the lilies are waving. Bathed in sunshine of Orient lands; Over the river, the wide, dark river, Spring-time and summer are blooming forever. Here, all alone on the rocks, I am sitting, • Sitting, and waiting—my comrades all gone— Shadows of mystery drearily,flirting . Over the surf with ita sorrowful moan. Over the river, the strange, cold river, . Ah I must I wait for the boatman forever? Wife, and children, and friends were around me, Labor and rest were as wings to my soul; Honor and love were the laurels that crowned mo J little I recked how the dark -waters roll. But the deep river, tho gray, misty river, All thatl lived for has taken forever I • Silently came a black boat o’er the billows ; Stealthily grated the keel on the sand ; - - Bustling footsteps were beard through the willows ; " There the darkßbatinan stood, waving hif-Uiml, WhiiinViiig ** T s'ec Uio sIUUIOWy fIVCT J She who is'dearcst must leave thee forever. ” f Suns' that 1 were brightest and skies that were bluest Barkened and paled in the messageho bore.,;;' Tear after year-wont the fondest," tho truest, _ •• Tollovtlng that beckoning hand to the shore, r - Down to tho river, the cold, grim river, ; Over whoso waters they vanished forever, t. \ ■ Tet not. In the visions of grief have I wandered; . Still have I toiled, though my ardors have flown. Labor is manhood; and life is hut squandered Dreaming vague dreams of the future alone. Tot from the tides of the mystical river Voices of spirits are whispering ever. Lonely and old, in tho dusk I am waiting, • Till the darkßoatman, with soft, muffled oar, Glides o’er tho waves, and X hear the keel grating, ' See the dim, beckoning hand on the shore,. Wafting mo over the welcoming river To gardens and homes that are shining forever I — S, P. Crunch , in the Atlantic for June, An Uncommonly lively ISczu: Story* From the Osicego (A'. Y.) Times. , r The particulars of a tcmtic struggle with bears' iri'tiie town of 'Bdylston, in this county; havo i’ust reached us, and are,of. a thrilling character, t appears that on Monday last a young* man named John Bidwell, aged 19 years, with his father, a one-armed man, and bis brother, a 1 mere lad, wont Into the woods about four inilos east of Smart's mills, in Boylston, to gather spruce gum. They carried rib • weapons, arid; their only tools woro a common nail-batchet, and a dirk' knife, for the purpose of cut ting the gum from tho trees, and & chisel fastened to a long pole. The latter was carried by the father. The hatchet had a handle about four feet long, and made of exceedingly tough : wood, so that it might oven be struck against a tree and bent half double without injuringit._ Thus equipped they were proceeding through the,.woods about their work, when John saw a bear track, and, following it with his oye/saw' about two rods ahead of him a hole in the snow* beside a big hemlock log. Ho went to look into it, hut just as he reached it slumped in the'* snow,,and fell head foremost^almost into.thq ! hole, liia Head barely escaping tho mouth of a huge bear, that was just emerging with his jaws distended. This was a critical time for John,. and. had ho attempted to run, as most men would have done in such circumstances, could , scarcely have escaped alive. But John was the man. for tho emergency, and the thought of run ning never entered his head. He had barely' time to draw back, and then brought tho bear a, blow on the nose with his hatchet which dropped her. In a second, however, tho bear had sprung up again only maddened by tho blow, but John ' was in time for her t and dealt her a terrible blow between the eyes with tho edge of his hatchet, cutting, as afterward proved, clear to tho brain. Tho boar came for John a third time,' hut was met by another powerful blow from the' hatchet, which finished her, and the bear • died in tho mouth of the hole/ ; It required a strong effort to pull bear' out, and John had scarcely accomplished* it when the ■ cub. nearly ■ full grown, appeared.; Nothing daunted, John went at him, and, after a brief struggle, served him as ho had served tho dam, but had scarcely done with him when bear No. 3 appeared, which proved to bo the other cub. John struck at him with the hatchet, but missed him. Tho bear sprang upon him and the hatchet could : no longer be used. But, with coolness and /pluck: that never deserted him, John proved himself a match for bruin in any shape. 'He drew the dirk*knife and drove it*to the heart of his savage foe, who immediately released iris hold and expired. Of course/ John fully realized before this time what he had struck, and now prepared himself for the he-* bear, but after waiting awhile, and this member oMhe family not appearing, he gave him up. During the entire fight the father stood by, but, having^no weapon and but one arm, bo was un able to lend his eon any aid, and feared that by interfering ho might injure him. The younger brother, not liking tho looks of things, bad taken to a tree and watched tho savage encounter with not a little alarm. When tho old hoar was measured, her length was found to be 6 feet from the nose to the stern. All .three of were skmnod. and tho skins sold for s2o.' -.-lit THE JUBILEE BALL. Certainty of a StriMngly-Brill- lant Entertainment. Hinh as to What May Be Tastefully Worn on the Occasion. The Coiffure, Dresses, Flowers, Shoes, Gloves, Fans, Jewelry, Etc. Chicago this year asserts herself, and intends opening the season with an entertainment’as worthy of herself as It will exceed in magnifi cence of conception and elegance of detail the nsnal summer-hops of the various, fashionable resorts. To this event all the eUte of Chicago —in fact, all the distinguished people in the country—are looking forward with, expectation and delight. Among the fair dimms, of bourse, the main question is, ' “WHATBHAM. WE WEAn?” For each and all realize that to be comma xl faui in dress is like the adding of perfume to the rose. Discussion-’ of Harry’s ' and Jack’s eligibility or attentions are quite lost in the momentous debate of 1 the attire of these fair Flora BfcFlimsoys, ’ and boudoir ‘ con fidences for tho next fortnight .will consist principally of sentences in which lacs, silk, tarletan, fans, sashes,, flowers, etc,, will be the leading substantives, governed by the verb “to wear.” Worth toilettes will, of course, bo seen in sufficient quantity to show that Paris is really tho shopping-resort of onr fair Americans, and that to run over ones or twice a year to re plenish and modify their wardrobes is a mere necessity, to many of them. To those, however, who lock either time, inclination, or any other requisite for these little excursions, a few hints as to what will be in order and good taste for the Grand Event of tho Season may not come amiss. COMMENOIXO WITH THE COIFFUBE, there seems at present to be a sort of interme diate condition in the matter of hair-dressing. The high stylo of the First Empire is gradually being'replaced by the. drooping chatelaine braids; bat . these are rather adapted for tin) promenade than for evening costume. It may, therefore, be con sidered that the majority will still l wear the hair , high, and covered with either white or blonde powder. . These are the two admissi ble colors, the silver and diamond articles'being passe and vulgar. Spanish combs, flowers, feathers, and jet-ornaments are the decorations which wiU predominate. Toils are also added occasionally,-;but have not met with the favor their graceful beauty- would -seem to make it probable that they should. Jewels are added, and also brilliant flies or.dainty birds. Brcsaes will doubtless in, variety. The newest fancy is for the chaletaine bodice, de scribing by Its close flt the contour of the form; a total absence of paniorß,.and the full Medici fraiae or ruff. A description of. / A TEW TlAiJi COBTUJXES : may aenre as hints to those who -wish to - know definitely what may bo worn: . • A dress of palo rose* fletri-faillo hod three ir regularly plaited.' flounces around the . train, bound with atwo-inch band of a deeper shade, and headed by rnchings of lace, through which were running vinos of wild clematis and forget me-nots. ' The front had vertical ruches of loco and garlands of flowers, while the overdress, of white broc&do-Hernam, was cut with Josephine corsage, trimmod-with flowers, and draped'with sashes of faille and gauze in an incomprehensi ble series of loopinga, falling in long loops , and ends at the right side. ■ An orange-blossom faille had bands of black volyot and flne jet wrought upon the silk, the velvet bands edged with point-lace, and theflow ers large clnsters of azaleas.'-' ■ ' - * ■• - A tea-rose gros-d*. Italic had a pointed bodice, lace berthe, band-sleeves, and trimmings of scar let silk, with scarlet geranium-blossoms,—a Fig aro fichu of lace and silk completing it. A’dross of mauve moire,fforr r a ■ matron, had a chatelaine bodice, cut heart-shaped in front, and trimmed with .a. high frais© of silk, and wide wired ruff of Brussels net. Very long train, de scribed by a rose trimming of suk, and the tab licr covered with ' lace flounces. Long, square antique sleeves, falling nearly to the hem of the dross. A Princess® robe, from Pingat, was of such intricate manufacture, and so. elaborately trim med, as to defy description.The material was of black Antwerp silk, 1 faced and bound with pale bine* and trimmed with Chantilly and Jot. Jt will bo seen by this, however, that dresses may ne made in-any of toe above styles, and yet quite meet tber demands of fashion. Pointed,

round, .and; Medici bodices are equally in good taste: if the rest of .the dress is in accordance. Still more, elaborate dresses are made - - Cf THOSE COLOBS S’.*: . Whit©, black,; and. limon, violet, and pearl; rose, pale blue, and white; and so on in various contrastmgr.or "harmonizing colors. White' crepa-liese ’has superseded the*’ Swiss ploitingß, on silk, while the finest seed : jet and pearlis embroidered on *tulle r and then applied as trimming. . These are mostly found in elabo-: rate and expensive French toilettes. The dress: is .usually of ’ a neutral shade, while the'wide sashes of the uevrdouble>faced ribbon show the ’ two .other colors, which .are also < extended to the flower or feathbr garniture of the robe.' A white dross embroidered’in black, would have scarlet and white sashes, with-scarlet flowers or ostrich tips. A limon faille should have crepe-lisse . flounces with violet revere, headed by seed-pearl trimming, while violet and limon sashes, ’ and varigated pansies, .form the garniture;' White and violet sashes on palest green, and bine and* black sashes ontea-rose, are among-; the quaint fancies. .Black tiille dresses are elaborately em broidered in jot and straw, .with flowers in; great, trailing clusters or> vines/ as if thrown around them, or the dangling bells of ' the oat ears, for ornament.’ A pale’blue faille, nearly covered with white embroidery on the tablier; and side-breadths, had the train trimmed .with crepe-lisse flounces,' headed by white embroid-' ery. A cropo-lisse overdress was trimmed with tape fringe, headed by garlands of xoaea, . with: .satin sash of pale rose and white, edged with' point-lace. Still another French dross of white: faille had the skirt kilt-plaited; an overdress of brocade gauze, caught in three pouffes by bands of scarlet ribbon, finished by bows. The front: cut is deep points, and fastened by rosettes of scarlet and limon satin. Pointed corsage, and: sashes of scarlet and limon. Long trailing dins-, tors of com-poppiea and yellow jasmine passed from the left-side to tho centre of the-back, and thence to the floor. *, Corsage and coiffeur, bouquets of the same flowers. - Lancing dresses are better made - WITH DEHI-TBArS; as, ; except in. the ; stately..minuet-de-la-cour, which is being revived in fashionable circles; court-trains aro decidedly a disadvantage to the; fair Torpischoreans..'. Ini the, whirl of- round dances: it requires an adept.in the art of man aging the lengthy drapery to prevent its being la source of grief either to herself or others; - XOB THEXOUNODEBimSTES, 1 the robes are fairly charming.. .They are of the - lightest muslins, tarletans, and. gauzes, and loOk like woven.snow-wreaths or summer clouds, so vaporish aro they in their texture. The beanie du (liable of fair 16 will' be more enchanting than ever in these lovely and-appropriate cos tumes. They aro mads both with and without overskirts., A pretty one; of India mnslm, hod a Spanish flounce, headed with a blue silk inching. Banda of silk were placed around-it in wide points, and ruches mot them and passed npward to the waist. Bow, pointed corsage, with basque back; and:trailing vinos of wild aweet-bnar Saesed from tbe left side- about the shoul ers, and wore carried from tbe left side down to the waist, , where . they wefeheld by'a: cluster;’sind'thence'in broader vines down the back tooths edge lof the, skirt.. ■White dresses are always'charming for young girls, and any. color may bo added to.enliven them, if the pure white is not considered-desir able. Sashes are draped from the shoulder, or wound and looped in intricate fashion about the overskirt, the end falling' af the side. ''Flowers are used in profusion; and, to those; who pre fer the fragrance and beauty of. Nature’s blos soms, we can tell them that .they may be -- KEPTQUITZ PRE3H* for an entire evening, by the following simple method: Wind the stems with worsted, nay then be thoroughly moistened, after which an old glove-finger may he drawn over them,. this > concealed; .by a bow or • knot of ribbon* J Whole parnres of flowers are found in the shops, as alxo of black-and-white, jet.lor trimming.''^ r • >f \ f.,* • : ■ i 5 * ; • j >J. U U • L should be of the same color, or combination of MAY 18, 1873. colors, as tbs ■ dress, or else of pare whits. In French shoes we find the slipper of the dress material, with bows of the colors that form the dress-trimmings., . , ■ - GZ.OVZB have aa many buttons as tho fair wearer can af ford. and come nearly to the elbow. ~ Tho new est, nowevor, have the part that covers the arm made entire, while a email slit, fastened with one or two buttons at the wrist, makes it easy to put on, and also adjusts it nicely. Very delicate shades,, harmonizing with tho dress, may bo worn hy ladies ; hut, for gentlemen, white is do rigour. Young ladies are wearing hands of ribbon or velvet confined by jeweled buckles in place of ' hnt, where the latter are selected, tho favorite style sems to be the wide band of Koman gold, omamented.with precious stones, and designs in silver and copper-alloy. ■ THE FAS should also match tho dress in color and trim ming; and many French euits have this coquet tish addition to a lady’s toilette made to corre spond. Silk of the shade of the dress, with point-lace edge dr cover, will ho most in favor, and may he of,, very-simple or. most elaborate workmanship, as best suits tho taste and parse of tho.wearer.;' CHATEIATSES of silver, or even gold, are worn, and to these are attached tho.fan, pungent, monchoir, and even the bouquet of the fair lady who wishes to assert her grace in the wavy, undulating move ment of the dance. Qnite a relief to her part ner and herself. : A MOST ABSUBD BIGHT, . hitherto and not ah unfroqueht one, has been a rather ponderous specimen of femininity, with a huge bouquet, revolving about a ball-room with one of those slight, spider-legged specimens of modem deterioration, looking as if she might overbalance the poor, tottering youth at any moment, while her bonqaet stood but like a threatening weapon of offense. Why will wom en who weigh 200, if they must dance at all do so with little, tremulous, uncertain men, whose avonrdapoia certainly cannot exceed HO ? Yet they Trill, and keep the wall-flowers in the aamo state of excited attention' as when watching some acrobat perform on the trapeze. Should they not have some mercy on the nerves of the wall flowers and dowagers i • - There seems to be little more to he said upon, the subject of what may bo worn.. ' GOOD TASTE * -is ■worth more than money at such times. The simplest materials may he made up into the most artistic toilettes, if a sense of beauty and fitness presides over their creation ; while the most el egant fabrics can bo ruined, if this is lacking. WHITE will hd universally worn again thin-grimmer, both in thin and thick fabrics. For the most re cherche watering-place toilettes, white silk will compose the skirt, while brocade gauze in quaint colors will form the overdress. It would, there fore, seem to be a matter of economy, for those who care to consider that old-fashioned virtue, to buy white for the Grand Ball. With sashes and trimmings In two colors, it can be made very elegantly, and then will answer for the regula tion costume for such as hope to breathe the salt sea-air at Newport, the mountain-breezes of the White Hills, or even contemplate a still more ex tended summer journeying over sea. , Unless gifted with that wonderful, inherent conception of the harmony of colors which seems a special gift of French modistes, we should not advise any oho to try THE yDEZB COMBINATIONS which foreign fashion-reports convoy to us as being. proper and desirable. Bine and purple only harmonize in certain delicate and unusual, shades, and very- few, outside of the Capital of Fashion, can attempt to use them together with out making a glaring discord that startles and repels. Shades of the same colors that harmon tzo, however,* can be used by almost any one with very pleasing effect, as may also many con trasting colors.--limon, scarlet, and white can bo combined very effectively for a' while white, pale blue' and black are in good taste for a blonde: * YOUNO FACES AND SLZNDEB THBOATS look quaintly as they rise from tho broad Eliza bethan ruffs and Medici frais but Josephine corsages, voluminous sashes, garlands of flow ers, and half-overskirts aro prettier for young girls than the more stately chatelaine bodice and falls of lace. Diamonds for dowagers, and pearls or other jewels for demoiselles. These should harmonize, as far as they could be made to do so, with the color of the ooatume. We might have described much more elaborate dresses, but wo have tried to give ’ * ' SBAOTIOAIi HINTS to those who may not send abroad for thoproper outfit. To such, as employ Worth and Pingat, any anxiety about tho matter is- only such as may be consequent upon the proper arrival of the desired steamer that, among all its freight, holds.nothing so precious, in the consideration of the > expectant, as tho cartoon con taining' that wonderful dress. 'To those, however, who must employ homo talent, tho preceding -hints may not be amiss. Both young ancLold wear powdered hair, and rouge and patches So not the infrequent ac companiments of it. Thafcthe scone • * ATTHEJTnJH.EEBAI.iI will be strikingly brilliant, and, in the hands of 100 of our best citizens, be made an exception ally elegant entertainment in every sense of the word, is the belief of every Chicagoan. That it will be the affair of the season which it .will in augurate, is beyond a doubt; and hereafter Eastern cities will turn with waiting eyos to the Queen of the West to ascertain in what manner she will lead off in the brilliant succession of summer or winter fetes that shall gladden* the hearts of the fashionable world., Therefore, prepare your toilettes, fair ladies, conscious that yorr will lead off this season in a way that will reflect credit upon your city and youiselvoe.- 1 GRACIE’S KITTY. • Qmdcfe kitty, day by i y " ; ~ . ... ' > Moped beside the fire, and pined - - • Would no longer frisk or play,- . Or the worsted ball unwind! * Grade coaxed, “ Play, kitty, do P Kittjr answered sadly, **. Mew P All in. Tain were dainty fare, Bread and milk all warm and new, Downy nest and tender care,— Thinner, weaker, still she grew, ‘ ■ Could no longer run or purr, ’ 1 ' Lay in bed, and would not stir. . Grade trolled her long white gown Down the stairs at early light, Wondering 4 ‘if kitty *th grown “ ' Any better over night; • * Found poor kitty cold and dead In her pretty basket-bod. - Grade made another bed Where the morning-glories climb; With red rose-leaves lined and spread, - ' ' - And perfumed with pinks and thyme. : Barely has a human head; Found so soft and sweet a bed. 'Grade’s little tender hands . , * .End at last their loving task; Sobbing by the'gzare she stands, /Then she lifts her face to ask. ‘' ■While the slow tear? downward roll, •** Mamma, where ith kitty’th thonl ?" —Elizabeth Aker* A lien in Young Folia, - Sympathy as a Business* A Vienna paper relates on amusing incident: which occurred to a great lady Just recovered: from a long and severe illness. • Seated in her boudoir, showas looking over rho cards of con dolence that had been' left' forher while sick. Among the names of-Counts, Barons, and other ■ oristocratio sympathizers emblazoned With cbro- : nets and; coats-of-arms, She came ocroaa a aim- ■ plecordwith the plain inscription-of ‘‘Hermann; Berger.”' In vain the lady asked who Hermann' Berger was. None of her servants could givo ; her any other information than that the individ ual had been a remarkably handsome young mtm. ■ The lady’s cariosity was excited; and she gave ’ orders to admit the person in cose he should cali again. The order was-punctually obeyed, and on the next day she received a really charming young man, dressed in exquisite stylo, who evidently appeared greatly embarrassed at .the honor of a tete-a-tete with the still charming, though somewhat faded beauty. “ I can hardly find words,” said the ; lady, with a blush “to thank you for your sympathy which yOu have manifested for a stranger.” “ Ibeg your pardon, gracious lady,” stammered the dandy,' “ but I am the agent of Messrs. A. 8., the undertak ers!” - • '/ - ’ Boiling. Eggi, A story is told of a negro in Virginia, whose master threatened to give him a flogging if he bailed his eggs' hard again. Next morning the eggs came to tbe table still harder than before. “ Yon rascal," ’ shouted the- enraged -planter, f‘ didn’t I tell you to cook those-eggs soft?” “ Yes,massa,” said the frightened slave “an’ I got up at 2 o’clock dis momin’, an’ biled ’cm five hours, an’ it seem to me I nebber kin get decs eggs softer!” -. .During the war one of the Northern hotel-keepers was on a visit to Nor folk. The eggs came to the table!boiled hard. “Book here," said the hotel-keeper, “Sambo, these eggs are boiled too hard. ' Now take my watch and boil some three minutes by it.”-' Be gave .the negro his splendid gold watch. In about five minutes thefreedman returned'with the eggs and. watch on tbe same plate. ' The watch was wet. ■ “ What have yon been doing to iny watch?” asked the Northern-visitor. “Why it’a allwet.” “.Tessah," said'the negro. •“I bild the.watoh wid do eggs.. All right dis time. Bah.” THE LATE MR. MILL. His Home at Avignon, and the Grave of His Wife. Something more than five years ago a cor respondent of The Cinoioo Tamohe was privileged to meet the late John .Stuart Mill in his retirement at Avignon. The following letter, describing his surroundings, in the ancient city of the exiled Popes, which was published in our issue of March 23, 1868, derives a new, though sad, interest from his death: Aviusoir, France, Fob. 21,1863. : Few American travelers pass throngh Southern France without seeing the ancient City : of Avignon.' What with her historical fame and the prominent place given to her in ail the popu lar guide-books, most tourists from the other side of the Atlantic con sider themselves in duty bound to pay her a visit. Fortunately, the position of the “ City of the Popes™ on the great railway that connects Paris with Lyons and Marseilles, and as yet forms the principal highway between. France and Italy, enables travelers to see what, there is to bo seen in the venerable place, with out sacrificing much time or money. It is ea-. pcdally at tins season of the year, when the tide, of American voyagers moves from Paris in the direction of Italy and Spain, that the ordinary , deathlike quiet of Avignon is frequently relieved, by the appearance of curiosity-hunters.' In-, deed, at this time, hardly any southward train passes without leaving more or less of these wandering people, anxious to behold what there is left of her whilom grandeur. ' THE ANCIENT AVIONON. . . Although Murray’s Guido Book says “ Stop by all means and see Avignon,” Imust record it as my deliberate judgment that time spent upon either tho ancient or the modem attractions of Avignon is little better than absolutely wasted, and 1 feel confident that oil sober-minded observers will agree with mo. Of monumental reminiscences of the past there are but few, and most of what re mains is of an inferior order of architectural merit. There -is any quantity of Boman rains within the limits of the city, bnt they are so far gono that they represent nothing but shapeless heaps of stones,'tile, and mortar. Every visitor makes & bee-line for the old Palace of the Popes, which stands on a rocky elevation in the centre of the city. But who is there among them that has not felt woefully disappointed upon viewing the great, unsightly, nnsymznetrical mass of stone, without a single feature pleasing or im posing to the eye ? The sight of this architec tural monstrosity suffices to explain why the Popes were not anxious to protract their resi dence at Avignon beyond two generations. There may be humiliation, to the mind of a Catholic, in the thought chat the misshapen edifice in which the heads of his Church resided once with all their princely pomp, is now de voted to Jhe profane uses of a military barrack. But to me it appeared hardly good enough, - even for the habitation of the red-legged props of.Ka-, poleonism. The recollection of the past, that the immortal Bienzi, once lay chained in one of its dungeons, instead of Testing the palace with a certain- romantic interest, only stamps it in my eves as a monument of the worldly and religious tyranny, of which the so called “ successors of Peter ” have always been the cruel instruments. The only pleasing remi niscence connected with it is the soujdurn with-, in its walla of Petrarch, by whose intercession the “ tribune of the people” was freed from bis fetters. Besides the Pope’s. Palace, there are two or three chorcbea, which strangers are directed to visit But they do not'produce any* more agreeable impressions than the former. In one of them Petrarch’s Laura is said to be buried. An old half-destroyed bridge across the - Bivor Rhone, built by the Popes, with its bold arches, and solid masonry, was to mo far more intercst ingthan either palace or churches. ' THE EE3XDENOE OF JOHN STT7AET lITT.n - Striking a balance between the attractive and repulsive features of Avignon, I could not have avoided answering in the negative, tha question whether my visit bad been a paying investment of time, bnt for what follows. Some of your readers are probably aware that the foremost writer and thinker of England, and, perhaps, the moat philosophical and practical reformer of hie age, spends a large portion J"of every ydar at Avignon.. I refer, of conrsa, to John Stuart Mill, whose wise and earnest advocacy of the cause of the people of tho North during tho : lata war of tho rebellion, invests him with an especial inter est in the minds of all loyal Americans. To find Mr. Mill in this retreat, so far removed from the busy scenes or hie public career, was tha main purpose of my coming. In view of tho world-wide fame of tho dis tinguished philosopher and economist, I was justified in supposing that every man; woman, and child in Avignon would know all about bim, and that I would not have the least difficulty in discovering his abiding place. Bat vainly did I spend some time after my arrival asking the natives whom I happened to meet for the resi dence of Mr.-MUI. They shook their heads and replied in the broad and almost'unintelligible patois of this part of France, that they had never heard of enoh a person. If was for me 'to.-; add. to my inquiries: that ho was . a member of .the' English Parliament. It only seemed: to puzzle them the more, - I had already determined to apply to the police for the desired informa tion, when it occurred to me to address the often-repeated question to one of the waiters of the public restaurant .at which I had taken a meal..; He happened .to know tho.way to Mr. Mill's house, and volunteered to accompany me; We walked first for aconaiderable distance along tho public road, that passes around the city, jhet outside of and parallel to the walls. We turned into a side roaa, and’ after following. this for about a quarter of a mile, reached a gate that led into the pnrying-gronnd of the i city,; Then my guide told me that. he had to return, to the.rea-i taurant, and left me, after giving me the neces saiydireotiona to reach, Mr.lMlU's house,which was not far off, . : . - Attracted by its picturesque, beauty, I turned for a few momenta Into the cemetery. I had not- Walked far, when I camanpon, something which' made a.very solemn, impression upon my mind;. Sheltered by a grove of, evergreens, I found a square place, bordered by beds, of flowers.. Ini die centre of it, enclosed by a low iron railing,'; rose a largo sarcophagus of pure -white resting on a base of the same beautiful material.' At the head of the monument stood a single ca-: maUia, with exquisite white flowers. Between the flower-beds and the railing a email walk.ex tended around. In one of the comers of the lot rose a simple stone bench; serving as a resting-' place to the mourners. And who sleeps in this’, secluded spot ? On the flat top. of the sarcopba-; goal read the following words:. - TO tttf BBLOTZD MEItOBY ~ - ... _-_ OF ' ; v ' ' - :j - ' * HARRIET SDXXj, TBS DEABtf-LOTKD AST) DELTIT-nEGEETTED WIFB : I * ■ OF JOHN STOAET MILL. ; Her Great and Loving-Heart, • - ■■■• - Her Noble Sonl, ■ ; ~3 - Her clear, powerful, original .and comprehoh-J sive intellect, mads her the gnideand support/ - The instructor in wisdom and the example in* goodness, ■ . ■. ■ -As she was the sole, earthly delight of those : Iwho had the happineas tobelong to her. - ' r . r '■ ' :As earnest for ail-public good as she was gen- ; erons and devoted to all who- surrounded her, - her influence has .been found in. many of' the: greatest improvements of the age, and will bo in ■ those still to come.- : Were there even, a few hearts and intellects like hers, this earth would already become the hoped-for Heaven; • She died, to the irreparable loss of 1 those who' Survive her, at Avignon—Nov. 3,1858; ' : The moving words of this epitaphr or fall of tender eloquence, tell not only what the noble woman whose ashes repose, hero, has been to John Stuart lEU, (and to the cause of human progress and reform, but also the motive of the frequent and protracted sojourns at Avignon of the companion of her life. That he might ■ be : as near as possible to her grave, -he purchased, years ago,' a c6nntry : honße'wilhin a few hun dred yards l of the' cemetery, where be devotes himself, not to fruitless lamentations over her. great, irreparable loss, but to the elaboration of those wise and-elevating' principles for the growth of which be is so much indebted to her genius. His devoted-attachment'to the be loved dead/and faithful prosecution of the work irrwhich she was his constant helpmate and in spiration, is certainly one of the noblest iilus-. trations of his character. ■ i -” : ~ Leaving the cemetery, ! resumed raj search for Mr. Mul’s residence in the direction indicated by my guide. I had hot gone very far, whew I cams to several houses to the right, and left of the cemetery road I was following thit stood in the midst of gardens closed by high' walls, ’ arid seemed to be the modest summer habitations ofsomo oftho bourgeois ofAvignoh. • Hot being able to make out from the description given mu’ which of them belonged to Mr. Mill, I addressed The young peasant showed mo into a sitting-room on the left of .tho entry, with'ailla floor and the. very simplest of' furniture, and then left me to cany; my card to Mr. HilL .Ha reappeared in a few seconds and told me X would find Mr. Mill in the room oh the other sidq of the entry. Stepping ; into this, I found myself in what seemed to serve as a library to the owner of the house. In an-arm-chair, in front of the fire-place, in which some coals were still burn ing. notwithstanding the warm spring sunshine without; there sat, with a catpnmngat his feet, 1 the well-known form of Hr. Mill. He rose as X entered,,.welcomed me by a cordial shake of the hand, and invited me to be seated. In a very little while we were engaged in a lively conversa tion. - • Mr. MilTa figure is of more than average height, but he oonld hardly be called tall His form is decidedly slender. His hood impressed one at once as the scat of intelligence of the highest order and the brightest activity. The upper portion is very broad, but below the splendid high forehead the face becomes narrow featured. His eyes are grayish, and not large, but of a most genial expression.. Hfa nose' is thin and straight,'and well proportioned. The features run out into a very sharp chin. The complexion of the clean* shaved' face >is rosy, and clearly indicative of good health. 7 The top .of the head is al most bald; hut tine lower portion is covered with a good growth of rather curly light-brown hair, slightly tinged with gray. His .voice is not strong, out of great clearness, notwithstanding the delicate and almost womanly gentleness of its tones. Mr. Mill is a rather herniating publio speaker*. His ordinary conversation discloses the same defect, which is probably the result of a long habit of weighing words before commit ting himself to them, ; [Here follows a conversation, between the writer and Mr. Mill on the principal topics then engaging public attention in Great Britain—viz: Parliamentary Reform, the Irish Question, Co operative Industry, etc,] j I was so deeply interested in the conversation that X was surprised to find, on looking at my watch, after touching upon the last-mentioned subject, that my call had already extended to more than two hours. It was time forme to take my leave, and so I arose and bade good-bye to the great and good man t whose fame had spanned, two continents without making him known to his nearest neighbors. I shall always look back to my visit to Avignon as one of the most pleasant and profitable incidents of my life* .I&e nattered Veteran* and tbe Good Old Woman oi Tennessee. ... i Carl Brent in the St. Louis Democrat, - I “ Pore soldier I” exclaimed a lone old undo# in East Tennessee, as a tattered veteran in blno ' appeared at her door, and meekly asked for a cup lot cold water. “Pore soldier! I know lures* son that yon are tired and thirsty, and that yd# -will be powerful glad to get a drink of water, not to speak of a little snthin to mir with it.” “Thank yon, mnm; hut I.belong to the Daughters of Temperance, and can’t drink, mi* less It is a little in the way of medicine, and I do feel very weak, as I hare marched more thaw 40 miles to-day.” . ■ “Forty mile! The laws havomasseyl How could you do it ? : Why, it would kill my mule.’’ “It is very hard; hut we get used to it. I wouldn’t hays minded it, if 1 had anything to eat.” “Sakes alive t Do come in and sit down. Pore aoldierl” - Tho good old lady brought out a black bottlej from which the battered veteran poured a toa spbonfql intoa glass of water, and took a vig orous. pull at the bottle when her back was turned. Then she. placed before him a sub stantial supper of ham and eggs ond.com bread and coffee, upon' which he advanced in gallant style! . ' . ! “And yon are mighty young to ho a solr dierin’,” she said, looking at him benignantly over her spectacles. “Tea, mmn; lam tho only sonof my widowoff mother; bnt my country called me, and my. duty to my_ country is only second to my duty to my Creator.” _ _ “Sho ? Why, yon talk as poert os a minister.” ‘“I was studying for tho ministry whani the war broke out.” “I had a notion that. the soldiers were all so wicked; -but I'm glad to find Out that they ain’t. Hon bays seen a power of flgbtin’, I reckon ?” • -“ A great deal, • mum. It la hard for a Chris, iian to take life; but the enemies of onrcouu try must be punished.” ; ' i “Jessso. Have yon ever been wounded?” \ ‘ “Terr often. I was once shot through tbs heart;” . ; “ Through the heart! Lawful sakes I DnJn’t it kill you?” “Not quite. The intercostal muscle was penetrated longitudinally and extravaaated with varicose .veins; but. the bullet ranged across the left lobe of the arachnoid artery, producing a comminuted fracture of Uio anterior process of the cerebellum, and causing a lesion of the spinal viscera and the hypophbsphates oi the fibula, and that delayed my recovery.” \ “ Yon don’t mean to say that you lived through all that I” er Anosojr. “.I was spared, mum, .tobe an humble monu-i meut of the ;mercy of Providence.” ' •‘Should think so.- What was tbit, noise f, It sonndod like somebody down the cellar.”. , t “Nothing but rats. Don’t be alarmed, mad-j am. Tim here and will protect you. . I once, : defended the house of a widow when it', was at-; tacked by a dozen guerrillas, I was obliged to kill; 1 seven of thorn, and tbo rest ran away. •. { ' ‘ “Do tell! Should think you ought to Iwau, : officer.” • “The President has triedtopersimdemetb ao-, ■oept a commission as Qoncral, but I have be-; iliaved that I can serve my country better’, in mjl, present sphere. Thank yon, I don’t core if I doj take a spoonful of that. I must he going how,, jwithmany thanks for your kindness. Itis naar-j ly time for.ofur evening prayer-meeting,; and I' must be there to open it. Have you such a thing' as a pocket Bible to spare ? Aline was destroyed: in the last battle, by being struck by a bullet in: my coat pocket. It was the last gift of my. be~ loved mother,, and it saved my life.” “Lawfulsakes 1. Whichpocket?” _ -- I “ The behind pocket, mum.” ■ C ■ “ What a blessed thing it is to have a Bible 1; There is one that belonged to my Hatilda Jane;, but ! know that you will make a good nsa of it.; I will remember you in my prayers, pore soI-> dier!” r.l ' As the last rays of the setting sun lighted up ■ the face of that battered veteran, they shone; upon two big tears,, that slowly trickled down) either cheek,'making .miniature canals through) the dust that coated his epidermis. He walked t up the road until he was joined by several more { battered veterans, who came out from a corner* of the fence. Two of them boro a keg, others ;■ carried .tin buckets, others had their arms full o* bottles. - i “ Have yon got it, boys ?” asked the veteran to whom the Bible had been presented. ■ “Allright, my covey. Ten gallons of-peach; brandy, a teg of apple-jack, and ever so man? : bottles of blackberry wine. The old gal was wall • fixed.” . . ! ■ “ You made such a d—l of a noise that she • would have smoked you if I hadn’t been thereto i throw her off the track. Let’s go and divide, c I ought to have the biggest share, as I had tna f hardest part of the work." ■ It is thus .that patriotism and virtue arore->- wardad. , * • Charles Noidhoif, the ’ former managing editof t of tho Now York Zcening Peat, is in the San*..- wich Islands; gathering matter for a work WmC** the Harpers will publish. myself to some -women who were workinif in u adjoining open-field.- ‘Bat they were as imorani of his name as the individuals I had first accost :ed-r in • town. - It. was, only, when I exnliinad to 'them that the gentleman was an Englishman that they, seemed to comprehend wnat I wanted. “ Oh, out, VAnglais, VAnnlaU," they aii broke out at once, and pointed simultaneously to a small house, the top of which rose abovo the surrounding high walls, not more than 100 yards off. Mr. lull himself subsequently explained to me, when T spoke of J the difficulty I had had in finding his place of abode, that, notwithstandine his long residence in - the-locality, even his nearest.neighbora had not yet become acquaint ; od with, his name, which seemed to' be somethirg extraordinary to their French oars, and that be continued to be for them simply “Monsieur VAnglais.” As I reached at last the small, wooden, green painted gate in the middle of.tho wallthat shuts off;Mr.'Mill’s property from;the '.road, s' yonnz peasant who was working in the garden 'inside ran up to let mo-in. In reply to my question whether Mr. Mill was at home, he replied in the affirmative, and invited mo to follow him. Wa went in the narrow walk, bordered on. both sides by small olive-trees that led in a straight line halm the gate, throngh the garden, to the house, i A more unpretending “country Best™ cannot ho imagined. It seemed to me to he in perfect keeping with the simplicity of habits an 4 freedom from earthly aspirations of the owner. The flrholo.‘iestate” is less than an acre in ex tent, and consists of the garden already men* tinned, and a very email dwelling-house. TVTR.' ’frTTT.T. AT SOLIE. A WAR REMINISCENCE

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