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WOMAN’S WORLD. A Few Things of Interest to the Fair Sex. Masked Before Marriage—A Man Who Makes His Wife His Banker-Fat Women Seldom Live Long—The Fashion in Bathing Suits—Mary Washington’s Traits—Points About a Troublesome Conscience —Why Englishmen Marry American Girls. Other Matters Well Worth Bead ing. “Have you ever thought,” asked the Englishman, with an amiable smile, “what compliments American women are always receiving?” This man from the tight little island, says the New York Tribune, is always finding something pleasant to say about America. “The hands of American women,” he went on, not waiting for an answer, “are always being sought by men of all nationalities. See how many American girls are married to Englishmen, lucky dogs that we are! Now, isn’t that a tribute to their beauty and charm? There are plenty of women in England and on the continent, charming women, too. but my countrymen are always fall ing in love with your sisters and cou sins.” “Wait a minute,” said his American friend. There is a suspicion among some of us Americans that you Englishmen always manage to fall in love with American girls who are rich. Isn’t that so, and doesn’t that make a difference?” “Oh, boshl” cried the Briton. “Just see how many Englishman have married American girls, who, if they were not ab solutely poor, at least could not be called rich,” and he rattled off the names of a dozen or more. “It isn’t safe,” he wept on in his good natured way, “to take them away from home. Foreigners are sure to fall in love with them, and then you lose them. Isn’t that so?” he added, his eyes twinkling. The compliment was accepted by the Americans, and they felt a little bit “set up” about it, too. One of them thought enough about it. since the compliment came from an Englishman, to tell his cousin of it that evening. “And what did you say?” she asked him, giving him an amused smile. “I said they mafried rich girls,” he an swered. “Or course you did, Jack,'.’ she said, with a little laugh. “That is Just like you.” “But he proved that that was not so, as a rule.” “Did he?” “Yes, he did,” said Jack, defiantly, feeling that there was going to be trouble over this thing, and he recited the cases which the Englishman had called to wit ness. “Then what did you do?” she asked with a smile that showed that she knew just what he had done. “What did I do? What do I usually do, Bess, when I see that I am in the wrong? I confessed my error.” “Jack,” she said, with .just the faintest trace of scorn in her voice, “how many Americans marry English girls?” “Oh, I am sure, I don’t know,” he answered, hastily, trying to recall one. “Well, they are very few, let me tell you,” with a good strong emphasis on the “ “Perhaps they are.” he assented mildly, “but what has that to do with the case?” “It means,” she said, tapping the toe of her slipper rapidly on the floor, “that you uHssed your cnance, You know as well as I know that it is the sons in England who get the money, and the eldest sons, too. When an English girl gets a lot of money which isn’t entailed, she gets a husband fast enough.” “Don’t all English girls?” said Jack I seeing a chance to get in a thrust. “Walt,” his cousin commanded. “If American women are attractive to En glishmen and Englishmen to American women, why shouldn,t English women and American men always be falling in * love, too?” “But what has th<t to do with the case?” he cried. “Why didn’t you ask him that?” “What would have been the use?” “Why don’t poor English girls get mar ried to rich Americans?” she demanded giving him a withering glance. “Oh, I don’t kdow, I tell? you,” said Jack, in despair. “Os course ,y<fu don’t, Jack, and I never expected it of you,” she said, leaning back In her chair, and speaking now very slow ly. “It is because a poor English girl of family would rather marry a poor En glishman of position—and it is not so easy, let me tell you, for an English girl who is poor to make a ‘good match.’ ” “But you don’t mean to say”—cried Jack in astonishment. “Listen to what I mean to say.” she In terrupted, in her even voice. “A woman knows the value of position. She thinks of it all the time. She dreams of it. It is about all that most of us have to think of,” she added, a little fiercely. “A woman knows what it is to take prece dence, and what it is to—to be put be hind somebody else,” she added, her brows contracting. “So she thinks about these things, and when she sees an oppor tunity”’— “Whatt” cried Jack, aghast at this new side of his cousin’s self. “Do you mean to tell me”—- “And so when she sees an opportunity.” she went on, ignoring him, “to take pre cedence she plots ana schemes, and* uses all the fine arts of diplomacy to take it. That is why American girls marry Eng lishmen. That is why English girls” "Bess!” “English girls won’t marry American men. Who do you think it is,” she asked, ahahply, “does the marrying?” “I didn’t say the men did.” “Umph.” . “I know” “Jack, you don’t know. Why didn’t you ask that man about English girls? Why didn’t you, I say ?” “I don’t believe it,” he answered stub •bornly. “Why didn’t you ask him?” she insis ted. “I’m going into the library to smoke,” he said gloomily. The recent dedication at Fredericksburg of the monument to Mary Washington, . says the Now York Times, has brought out many interesting statements and . comments upon her life and character. The Rochester Post-Express finds that she “was a curious woman. If she had • not been the mother of George many Blighting remarks might have been made of her. As she was, of course, we are « inclined to judge her very kindly, and there was much in her nature that was pood and noble. Her husband died when she was 87 years old. leaving her with a large family of children, of whom five, including George, were under IX Life became at onco a serious matter, but she whs a woman fitted for her task. She educated her children personally man anged two estates, and superintended the plantations as well as the household affairs It was said that no plantations in Virginia were more ably or eeonomi- * rally managed, and she was independent, intellectual and resolute. It was in her old age, when her children had grown up, that her eccentricities became more marked.” A Tribune writer records that oven up ’ to the age of 78 years Mary Washington crossed the ferry from Fredericksburg every morning, and “drove about in an old gig, inspecting fields, gardens, barns, and slave quarters, with a keen eye for neglect or waste or disorder. They say she was a very hard mistress. As age and weakness increased, she abandoned the old gig and made her tours of inspec tion in an old, low-hung victoria, which had been provided for her comfort by the general.” She is reported to have had a sharp tongue, and the same writer says that she did not change the fashion of her raiment for more than twenty years, ana cut and made her own garments, in defiance of public Opinion and the chang ing styles. “When she went visiting, the sight of her approach caused every mem ber of the household to seize a broom or a dust brush, or in some manner to assist in straightening up things, so that her fastidious and critical taste might not be offended. She performed her daily du ties at precisely the same hour, in pre cisely the same manner, every morning, regardless of changing conditions and circumstances, and the neighbors always set their clocks and watches by the ring ing of her dinner bell.” But all the same she was Washington’s mother. The gen eral, after the battle of Yorktown, paid her a visit with all his staff of French and American officers, and on the very day when he received notice of his elec tion to the Presidency he galloped over to Mount Vernon to carry his mother the news, and remained with her until it was necessary for him to start for New York. Lafayette, too, paid her a visit of respect, and when she died the whole country mourned, the members of the Senate and House wore crape on their arms, and there were services in the various churches. Why did we marry—you and I? Ah, me! why did we? In our youth I vowed I loved; and your reply, Heart-sung, yet.silent, seem the truth. Beside our love’s now swelling tone How faint was that first throb, dear heart! It was » babe that since has grown Big as the world of which we re part. Ay, bigger yet, like Paradise: For when you fold me to your breast, Or I drink deep from your dear eyes, The world s forgot, with all the rest. Give more, dear nobler half! I thirst For all the love you once kept hid. What if we did not love at first? Thank God, sweet wife, we thought we did. (Julian Ralph, in McClure s Magazine for June.) An over-sensitive conscience, says the New York Tribune, is sometimes a troublesome virtue, as Mrs. A. has often found to her cost. “Things that she has left undone,” and thought of afterward, form a constant trial of her gentle life. Not long ago, while traveling in the west, she stepped at a hotel in Cincin nati, and on the morning of her departure she had some bananas, figs, etc., brought up to her room with her breakfast. Just before leaving, as she gave a last glance about to see that nothing was forgotten, she happened to see a large, hairy-looking object slowly crawling up the wall. “It was so large I thought it was a mouse at first,” she said afterward, “and then I discovered it was a horrible-looking in sect, but I had no time to examine it, and only gathered up tay things and fled. But an hour later, when I had made myself comfortable Rin my section on the express for New York, and was speeding away toward home, my ever-imaginative conscience be gan to trouble me. Why had I not sum moned assistance and attacked the beast? Perhaps it was poisoaous; and then a sudden thought struck me. ‘lt must be! Yes, there is no doubt about it! It un doubtedly came from that plate of south ern fruit, and was one of those venomous insects one reads about. Most likely it was a tarantula./ In fact, I think I have heard that tarantulas looked just like that, and the next person that comes into the room will be stung and die, all be cause I did not give the alarm!’ And so on. and so on, I kept worrying and worry ing about it, until I could not stand it any longer. So I wrote out a long telegram, which cost a small fortune, explaining all about the dreadful creature, and asking that it might be looked for and killed at once. “This I wired to the hotel keeper, and felt much easier in consequence, and afterward forgot all about the occurence until a few months later, when I again stopped in Cincinnati en route with some friends to California. I remembered my scare, and, although rather ashamed of the fuss I had made, summoned up cour age to ask the proprietor what he had done about it, and if the tarantula had been found. “ ‘Why, were you the lady that sent that long telegram?’ he asked, smiling at me in kindly, tolerant fashion, as if I were a small child, or some curious freak. ‘lt was the longest message I ever re ceived. Did we find the tarantula? Why, madam, it was only a water beetle. We have lots of them here; they are nasty looking bugs, but, bless you, they don’t hurt any one!’ ” Not many people kpow how the name of bloomer came to be applied to the style of woman’s dress sometimes called the divided skirt. Mrs. Amelia Bloomer, after whom the garment was christened, resides with her husband in Council Bluffs, their residence to-day being the one in which they took up their abode fnrty years ago, when Council Bluffs, now a city of 25,000 people, was a somewhat straggling village of 300 souls. Mrs. Bloomer, now 76 years old, carries her years easily, her fifty-four years of mar ried life having been unmarred by other than the fleeciest of temporary clouds. It was in 1851 that sue began to wear the costume which is now known throughout the English-speaking world as the bloomer. She was then living at Seneca Falls. N. Y., where she was publishing a temperance paper called the Lily. In addition to being a prohibition advo cate the paper also aevoted considerable space to the subject of woman suffrage. A Mrs. Miller, who in 1851 paid a visit to Seneca balls, appeared in the bifurcated dress, and Mrs. Bloomer published a de scription of it. She and Elizabeth Cady Stanton adopted the style and advocated its general adoption. Mrs. Bloomer wore the costume on several lecture trips, and in this way it became associated with and finally known by her name. By and by Horace Greeley took the subject up, and was followed by other editors, the re sult being that the bifurcated became known allover the country as the bloomer. It is said on good authority that small drop earrings are to be worn again, which draws attention to the factor how com pletely any but a diamond soltaire ear ring has vanished from the ranks of fash ion. The present demand for small orna ments, buckles, slides, lace and hat pins, and the innumerable other trinkets in gold and silver which are now in vogue has given a distinct impetus to the trade of the jeweler and silversmith. When the first Turkish minister, Mele Mele, came to Washington, says the New- York Times, a grand ball was planned in his honor. Hundreds of invitations were sent out, and nearly everybody who re ceived one came, for there was much curiosity to see the important Turk in his native dress. Particularly were per sons anxious to examine the splendid dress turban which had been aescribed and talked about, made, as it was, of plaster of paris, yet looking like the fin est muslin. When ’the evening arrived Mele Mele seemed to be the only one who was not having a good time. He stood looking as if he did not knoWHhat every body w.is admiring him and altogether very much bored, till suddenly he caught a glimpse of a big negro woman, who was assisting in serving the supper. Instantly he rushed up to her and, throwing his arms about her neck, gave her a good kiss, explaining that he could not help it, she reminded him so much of THE WEEKLY NEWS (TWOTIMES-A-WEEK): THURSDAY, JUNE 28, 1894. his best and most expensive wife, and, while the company thought it a very odd thing to do, everybody rould understand that he was a homesick man, and nobody minded it in the least. I have a friend who is comfortably well off, with a reasonable amount of good in vestments and a good salary, but he has a weakness for using money freely, says a writer in the Boston Journal. He has also a good wife with a “frugal mind,” and by a domestic arrangement she ex erts a salutary check on the liberality of her spouse. Occasionally he exceeds his allowance and indulges in tricks on his “banker” to secure a little pocket money, for which he does not desire to render a strict account. Not long ago he needed a new hat and bought it, reporting to his good wife that it cost him $3, and that sum was duly charged by her to his per sonal expenses, while in fact he paid but $1.50 at a “mark-down” sale, and so had an equal amount to “blow in” without ex posure. Ina little time, however, the wife called his attention to the fact that his hat was looking shabby and suggested that he should get a new one, coupling the sug gestion with the remark that the hat did not seem to have worn well, and he must exercise more care in his next selection. Havingiforgotten his “little game,” the husband replied hastily that he thought the hat had done pretty good service for a cheap one. “You can’t expect anything from a $1.50 hat.” "How’s that?” says the wife, and forthwith she exhibited her account book with its charge of $3, and the husband was forced to confess his fraud and promise better conduct in future. There is peace Just now in that family, but when he brings home a purchase the wife calmly but firmly asks him to turn in a receipted bill from the salesman. There is no doubt that a great deal of the unhappiness of married life arises from the fact that when a man is court ing a girl he only sees her “at her best,” both as regards temper, looks and every thing else. After marriage he is rudely disillusioned, and vaguely wonders whether this snappy young woman with untidy hair, and perhaps a shine on her nose, can be the sweet-tempered, fault lessly dressed, lovely Angelina of a few month ago. Yes, young man, says the New York Advertiser, she is Angelina right enough, only she has, so to say, thrown off her mask, now she has “got you,” and appears in her true colors, which are not quite of so fascinating a hue as those that dazzled your love-sick eyes in the courting peroid. It is nearly every girl’s ambition to get mar ried. She lays herself out to do so, and any little artifice that will enhance her natural charms she has no hesitation in using. She dresses for effect, she poses for effect, she talks for effect, in fact, during this stage of her life she is acting —for every woman is more or less of an actress —and it must be confessed that, generally speaking, she acts her part very well. After all, it is only natural that she should try to appear at her best and en deavor to captivate mankind, for mar riage is the be-all and end-all of a society girl’s existence. The worst of it is that she cannot keep this up after marriage; it would be too great a strain both physi cally and mentally. As it is, heaven only knows what she goes through during the anxious time when she is angling for a fish, especially if it be a gold fish. She molds herself to her likes and dislikes, and outrages her own feelings, until the little golden band on her fingers allows her to breathe freely and declare that “Though he likes living in the country, she detests it, and does not intend to live there.” Mr. Neuwed is startled and astounded. This is open rebellion. Yet when he was court ing her she appeared such a meek, gentle creature, as to hava no wish or will of her own, quite content to follow in his lordship’s footsteps.- “What a fool I was to get married,” he mentally exclaims, and then in all probability the bickering begins that renders married life one long misery. Perhaps it now dawns on Mr. Neuwed that when he was courting her she was at her best. A word to men. When you are court ing a girl remember she is at her best in every respect, and that she cannot possi bly always keep up to this his high stand ard after marriage ; so grasp the fact that you are not going to marry an angel, but a human being with many faults, perhaps as many as you posses yourself. Superfluous flesh, says the New York World, is a disease. Fat women are sel dom rugged or long-lived. Obesity may be simmered down to two causes—lazi ness and self-indulgence. It is pleasant to 101 l about in hammocks, rocking-chairs and couches, and to indulge every whim of the appetite. The very dishes that delight the senses of the women inclined to obesity are the very ones they should not eat. The first step toward a cure for “lazy” matter is self-sacrifice. It was petting that piled up the billows, and only the severe lines of something approaching asceticism will scatter them. Fat girls who leave college and go into active bdsiness or professional life, and great wives of the men who meet with reverses of fortune, necessitating self help from every member of the family, lose flesh in a year under the new order of things, proving that exercise of the right sort is demolishing as well as enno bling. The bathing suit, says the New York Sun, can no longer be the ordinary blue flannel, without rhyme or reason, made by-the-dozen sort of an affair. It must have style and individuality about it, and good taste is as necessary in its selection as in the choice of a fall gown; yet this year's suit is easy to 'make. In fact, nothing is more conspicuous than the bathing suit, and nothing causes more comment, since watching the bathers has become the event of the day at many of the fashionable resorts. Mohair seems the popular material this season, as it sheds the water, so that the garments do not become as heavy as the flannel ones. Serge is also a favor ite, as it comes in a variety of colors. It is not only in Japan that incompetent doctors are punished for professional failure resulting in the loss of life of their patients, but in Russia also, where nhysicians are hela similarly responsible. A well-known medical practitioner at St. Petersburg has just been sentenced to seven days imprisonment, to a fine of 1.000 rubles and to the payment of an annuity of 300 rubles to a lady who was in jured by his unskillful treatment. Russia is already lamentably deficient as far as the number of its medical men is concerned, ana this somewhat drastic punishment is scarcely of a character to increase the popularity of the profession. Twenty Years Proof. Tutt’s Liver Pills keep the bow ,els in natural motion and cleanse the system of all impurities An absolute cure for sick headache, dyspepsia, sour stomach, con stipation and kindred diseases, j “Can’t do without them” R. P. Smith, Chilesburg, Va. writes I don’t know how I could do without them. I have had Liver disease for over twenty years. Am now entirely cured. Tutt’s LiveriPills ALLEY LIFE. Bab Finds Plenty of Real Tragedy in the City’s Dark Places. The Dead Wife and the Stilled Baby on the Tenement Bed—Day Laborers as Slaves—Who is to Blame?—The Impressive Double Funeral in a Humble Flat—People of “the Other Side” Need Help but No Preaching. New York, June 23.—They are around us every day. The tragedies, I mean. That’s the reason why when we go to the theater, we want to see something amus ing. I went the other day to see Mis’ Connolly to tell her good-bye, and to leave iu her hands a little money that some good people had given me to make some of the babies happier. Mis’ Con nolly was distinctly unhappy. Charlie wasn’t there, and the whole place had an air of misery, for when Mis’ Connolly suffers she has little heart for anything else. She took the note I gave her, turned it over in her hands, then burst out cry ing. Then she said, “Well, Miss, is it to to make a livin’ child glad?” I told her that I had intended it should do that, but what did she mean by asking me so posi tively about a living child? She cried harder £han ever, then began to put on her bonnet, and asked me to go with her. A GREAT CITY’S WRETCHED ALLEYS We went down the street, then .turned into a little side alley which seemed to me the dirtiest 1 had ever been in. Ba bies were stretched out on the pavement; were walking at the risk of being run over in the middle of the street; were sleeping on doorsteps; while larger chil dren were frantically playing around as if even dirt and rags could not subdue the natural desire of children for pleasure. Untidy women were gossiping in the doorways, buying unripe fruit from the peddlers, or administering, without? any regard for the feelings of the looker-on, the punishment they thought due their offspring. Into the meanest looking of these houses we went. Doors were thrown open, and nobody seemed to care whether the rest of the world saw them or not. Sewing machines were heard everywhere, and, above all, every now and then would rise the voice of a drunken man singing one of the popular songs of the day. Little girls were carrying tin kettles of beer, and the smell of fried fish filled the air until it seemed heavy with grease. I don’t think I was ever in such a place before, and yet I thought I had seen the other side. AFTER CLIMBING FOUR FLIGHTS, we stopped and Mis’ Connolly rapped on the first closed door we had seen. Just outside Were two or three women evi dently meaning to be neigborly, talking in low whispers, while inside there was nothing but death and misery. Before them even the woman who seemed to be trying to straigh ten the wretched room was awed into silence. By the one win dow sat a strong, healthy-looking young man with a hard look on his face as if, no matter what came, he wouldn’t soften. On the bed lay a dead woman and beside her a little baby. That Mis’ Connolly bad already been there was proyved by the fact that the tired eyes were closed, that the wearied body was gowned in a f>lain clean white nightdress, and that the ittle baby had slip uoon it which I once remembered was shown to me as the first one that Charlie ever wore. The tired hands that had worked and toiled were crossed over the breast, upon which the little baby would have rested if it had ever &>ne anything more than give just one cry of pain when it came into the wretched world about it. THE STRONG, GRIEF-STRICKEN HUSBAND. I pressed Mis’ Connolly’s hand; she knew what I meant, and she went over and said to the man, “Tim, it’s all right. They won’t have to be buried like pau pers ; I’ve got the money as will bury Ida an the baby as you would like ’em to be buried, and now, my man, leave ’em for a little while an’ come have a cup of tea with Connolly an’me.” She had to persuade him very hard, be cause those dead ones were just as dear to him as if he had been a millionaire. But at length he agreed, as there were a couple of neighbors there, to go with us. I stayed to tea, because I wanted to find out what made that man’s face look so hard. I wanted to know where he had got that look in his eye, which even the <ieath of the woman he loved did, not soften. I wanted to know what it all meant. After tea was over, and Mis’ Connolly had taken a note from me to its destination, I said to Tim, looking him straight in the face: “Now, my man, tell me what is the matter. I am sure you know that I am sorry for you in your trouble, and if it will make you any happier, I tell you this now': your wife and your little baby are not going to be taken to a crowded city graveyard, but away off to a quiet little place in the country, where the birds will sing eternal lullaby, and the trees rustle an eternal prayer. But I want to know what is your trouble—maybe I can help you. Liv ing trouble, my friend, is a thousand times worse than dead. What is the matter?” Evidently the thought of the quiet rest ing place for his own had touched him, for when I looked at him, his eyes were full of tears, and then he said: “Ida came from the country, and if she knows, she’ll be glad to think that her and the baby are goin’ back there. I’ll tell you how it was. Miss; it all came through the very thing that is supposed to help the laboring man. I WAS MAKIN’ A DECENT LIVIN’ “When I married Ida, an’ we fixed a comfortable little home. You see the hole she died in. Well, one day when we were at work, the man from the union came in and said we would stop. That night there was a great speech in one of the big halls made by a gentleman who is great for the workingman, and who is anxious to get some political position. He told us how we were all slaves, and how the master was grinding us down, an’ how we ought to stand up for our rights. Ida had saved a little money, and for a while we lived on that. Then I had to ask the union to help us: then they wouldn’t give no more. Then I went to see the master, and two or three of the other men went with me. His talk was reasonable; he wasn't sellin’ as much hisself, an’ so he had to cu’t wages, but as soon as times got better he was willin’ to raise 'em again. I wanted to go back, and so did the other men; but no, we was threatened all sorts of things, and made to feel that we’d be cowards an’ informers if we acted like honest men, and worked. I looked at Ida, walkin’ around there, not very strong, because the baby hadn’t come ' then, and needin’ the little things that women ought to have—a cup of tea. and | you know, ipiss, what they are like; an’ j I couldn't give it to her. An’ she’d say to me. ‘Tim, go back; show you’re your own master,’ an’ I’d start to do it, an’ I’d meet some of them damn talkers, an’ they’d tell me I ought to be no man's slave, and would get me so fired up, as they knew they would, and then I’d go back home, and tell poor Ida all they said, an’ she’d cry. an’ keep cryin’. Weil, miss, after a while, all our things was sold for rent, and we came down to this yere place, where a dog wouldn’t sleep, and there Ida’s baby was born: and there it died, an’ there she died. And it’s just a little over a year since I brought her from the country, bright and rosy cheeked, an’ I'd promised I’d take care of her. And how nave I done it? My God, who is to blame?’ ” FRIENDS IN TIME OF NEED. And the strong man threw up his hands and then buried his face in them and cried like a little child. And before such remorse I could only sit silent. Mr. Connolly, who had been quite quiet in one corner of the room, came over, put his hands on Tim’s shoulder, and said: “That’s right, my man, you feel better now. It’s all been a mistake, but please God you’ve got a whole lifetime to make it right. Me an’ Mis’ here will give you a helpin’ hand, an’ we’ve got a friend down in the south, an’ I reckon us two can manage so that you get down there an’ you can work out in the open air for a while. Tim, me boy, this is what comes from only listenin’ to one side of the story, I don’t say nothin’ against the workingman, I’m one myself, and I think he ought to stand up for bein’ treated right, but since I’ve talked with some of the gentlemen from the settlement, I’ve learned that the man who hires and the man who is hired must work together in unison if we want big wages. There are bad employ ers, but there are more good ones, and usually, Tim, me lad, when wages is re duced there’s a reason for it. Now, I ain’t blamin’ you, me boy, but you must know now that these men who go around talkin’ and excitin’ young chaps like you, is paid to do it by the politi cians, who, while they say they are the workingman's friend, is nine t’ aes out of ten, the very ones who r.rind him down the hardest. Take some of these men who make such fine speeches, and ask them what they pay the men they employ, and what they do when there is a strike, and I guess you’ll find, Timmy, that the ones who does the least talkin’ do the most workin’. Now, brace up, and be a man, and your friends will pull you through. Not them frfends as you’ve been tellin about, but them that found you when you was in trouble. That’s the way to know your friends, Tim.” With another approving pat on Tim’s shoulder, Mr Connolly stopped, and then with a quiet “good-night,” they left me alone waiting for Mis’ Connolly. I TRIED TO THINK IT OUT. I tried to see the right and wrong of it, but always before me there came the pic ture of the dead woman and her baby, and it seemed to me that in the long months before the baby came, and when she saw no solution of the riddle, she must have wished for death. For on the thin, pinched face there was a look of satisfaction, as if some unwhispered de sire had been grantfft. All that was two days ago. This morn ing, very early, from Mis’ Connolly’s little flat, for they had carried Ida and the baby over there, the little funeral procession started. Just before they went, a kindly clergyman said a prayer, and after that a girl whose voice is heard oftenest in a different part of the town, stood beside me, and with her eyes raised as if she could see way beyond us all, she sang, “There is a green hill far away.” And it seemed to me as if resting there, where the flowers never cease to bloom and where the sunshine is eternal, were Ida and her little baby. When they had gone we waited for a little while in quietness, and she said to me, this good worker, “Have you ever been able to solve the question?” And I answered her, “No. All that we can do is to do that which is closest to our hands. Life is full of tragedies, and the work in it is not sentimental. Nobody can come down on the other side and-help people by talking. All the preaching in the world will do no good.” IT IS WORK THAT TELLS. The best lesson of cleanliness is that task which may not be pleasant, bithing somebody who is sick and poor. The best sermon on generosity is the denying yourself something to help the women and child? m, and the sick who need it. The best evidence of your belief in happi ness here and hereafter is to give pleas ure to those who scarcely know what it means, and the best proof of your believ ing that in the sight ot-God all men are equal is your respecting the feelings of others. Nobody can go on the other side apd expect to pose as a Lady Bountiful, but oh, there is so much work there to do. Thank God! There are men and women who are doing it gladly and wisely! But always there is room for more workers.” And just then my little millionairess looked at her silver watch, and straight ened her cotton frock, and said to me: “You are right, but I musn’t stop any longer for lam due down street to help take care of a woman who has got de lirium tremens.” It’s work, my friend, in this world that is wanted. In the future, I can see Tim working away down south, and in this work he will forget, for, thank God, we can do that. And I, well, I think that those peo ple who were kind enough to send me the money for the living babies will not regret the use to which it was put by— Bab. WILL HE BE A MURDERER? Scientists Interested in the Child of Dr. and Mrs. Meyer. From the New York Press. A little 2-year-old lad who is now re siding in this city is causing no end of speculation, controversy and discussion Among our wisest and most erudite think ers and scientists. The little fellow, all ignorant of the interest his existence has aroused among the wise men of the greatest city of the western world, pursues the even tenor of his way, lisping out the words he is now first learning how to use, building houses with his blocks and then knock ing them down again, and playing hide and-seek and other children’s games with those who are set to watch over him. He is a very handsome child, and despite the fear that his existence has engendered in the minds of our great men as to what fiis future will be, he is a happy, tractable and interesting boy, and is very popular with all those who know him. He is pre cocious, too, and demonstrates the pos session of a brain and will power of by no means ordinary character. At times the little fellow is imperious in his commands, and if not obeyed he at once sets about to make trouble. He is a light hearted little fellow, with a pair of very intelligent and impressive blue eyes, a head so well shaped and features so clearly chiseled that seeing him one would perforce exclaim: “What a pretty child!” His mind seems to run to music and languages. Despite his tender years, he has already picked up several words of English, French and German, which he has heard used, and invariably remembers the words he has heard, anti repeats them, using them with rare in telligence. if he is playing with his toys and a hand organ stopping in front of the window begins to grind out its discordant attempts at music, the little chap drops his playthings and enjoins silence upon any and every one who may be in the room where he is. and hastening to the window listens in an ecstasy of delight. Then he claps his hands, as if in applause over the treat to his senses. BRIGHT CHILD, BUT . A bright, promising child, one would say. What is there in this boy to cause speculation and discussion and contro versy among the gray haired and spec tacled men of science ? Why should they be more interested in watching the future of this child than of any other equally bright, precocious and interesting boy? That which causes their especial inter est in the lad, and which has aroused among them the discussion over him is ■ the fact that some of the most celebrated thinkers of the period have deciarea that it is more than probable that there is born in this happy, bright faced, intelli gent little member of the human race a a tendency to commit murder, and that unless by his training'and environment that tendency is eradicated and overcome. • MEDICAL. * What is [WaV] |] ■u ■ Castoria is Dr. Samuel Pitcher’s prescription for Infants and Children. It contains neither Opium, Morphine nor other Narcotic substance. It is a harmless substitute for Paregoric, Drops, Soothing Syrups, and Castor OIL It is Pleasant. Its guarantee is thirty years’ use by Millions of Mothers. Castoria is the Children’s Panacea £ —the Mother’s Friend. *■ Castoria. Castoria. « ’ . “Castoria is so well adapted to children that Castoria cures Oolic, Constipation, I recommend it as superior to any prescription Sour Stomach, Diarrhoea, Eructation, known to me.” H. A. Archer, M. D., Kills Worms, gives sleep, and promotes di -111 So. Oxford St., Brooklyn, N. Y. gestion, Without injurious medication. i •<*,. • < “The use of ’Castoria’ is so universal and its merits so well known that it seems a work «p or several years I have recommended of supererogation to endorse it. Few are the your ‘Castoria,’ and shall always continue. to intelligent families who do not keep Castoria do so as it has invariably produced beneficial within easy reach.” , results.” Carlos Martyn, D. D., Edwin F. Pardee, M. D., New York City. 125th Street and 7th Ave., New York City. The Centaur Company, 77 Murray Street, Nks York City, PATENTS. - -- t " iii* mi .. ii. H ii*. mil i.— t PATENT OFFICE. WM. B. MATTHEWS & CO, SOLICITORS OF United States patents: and Foreign TRADE-MARKS. McGill Building, Washington, D.C Near United States Patent Office. MEDICAL t WU DfIRIfFD M n 14 Butfinch Street, .n. rHtfftCn, m» U.j I Boston, Mass. THE MOST EMINENT SPECIALIST IN AMERICA. Established in 1860. Chief consulting physician of the Peabody Medical Institute, to whom was awarded the gold medal by the National Medical Association for the Prize Essay on Exhausted Vitality, Atrophy, Nervous and Physical Debility, and all Diseases and Weak ness of Man, f*| IJJEC the the mid dle-aged and’ VWnCQ old. Consultation in person or by letter. Prospectus, with testimonials, CO E* C Large book. The Science of Life; mc.l*, or, Self-Preservation, the prize essay. 370 pp.. 125 invaluable prescriptions for acute and chronic diseases, full gilt, only SI.OO, double sealed. the probabilities are that before the lad has long passed the period of maturity, he will be arraigned at the bar of justice charged with the commission of some ter- ( rible crime. The name this boy bears is Arthur Meyer. Recently his father was sent to Sing Sing prison for life after his convic tion not long ago of the murder of Ludwig Brandt, whom a jury of his peers de clared he poisoned for the purpose of swindling the life insurance companies in which he had persuaded Brandt to take out policies of insurance. THE MOTHER AWAITS TRIAL. The mother of the child, who figured so frequently in the sensational episodes which were connected with the memor able trial and conviction of Dr. Meyer, is now a prisoner in the Tombs awaiting her trial on an indictment charging her with active participation in the crime, lof which her husband has been i convicted. Her trial, the district attorney declares, will take place i during the current month, and exactly the same evidence which was adduced in convicting Dr. Meyer will be arrayed against the woman. The peculiar feat ure that interests the scientists is the fact that this child came into being in an sftmosphere of conspiracy against human life. His birth occurred a few weeks subsequent to the consummation of the conspiracy to kill the unfortunate i Brandt, and during the whole year before I his birth there was being carried out the i plot to poison the victim whom Dr. Meyer had selected. There is no subject to which scientists are to-day devoting more thought and re search than to that of the laws of heredity ■ and parental influence. Concerning these j subjects interesting articles, in which the ; thought of the world was concentrated, 1 have lately appeared in the Press. It was shown that a mother’s devotion to studs’ during the year preceding the birth of her child would influence it in after life to studiousness; that a musical mother may, by proper care, give the tastes of her children a trend in that direction, and so on. This being true, it is not surprising that scientists will won der what the child created and born in the very midst of murderous plots will develop into. In the case of the bright little fellow who has been born to Dr. Meyer and his wife, scientists agree that if the boy is properly reared, it is more than probable he will become a good and useful member of society, but the greatest care, they say. should be taken that his rearing, his training and his instruction is of such a character that whatever evil tendencies may have been his unhappy birthright will be thoroughly eliminated and erad icated. A PHYSICIAN’S VIEWS. Dr. Allen Fitch, the expert in mental diseases and chief examiner in lunacy of the Bellevue Hospital staff, is of tne opinion, too, that great care should be taken in the training of this little fellow. “I am a thorough believer,” said Dr. Fitch, ‘-in the laws of'heredity, but I be lieve also that almost any inherited ten dency or inclination can be eliminated from the character by careful training.” A unique case of borrowing is reported from Sherman Mills, Me. 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