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TWO DOLLARS A YEAR.
A FRAGMENT—WILLIAM CULLEN
BRYANT.
The reader of Mr. Bryant’s poems will
readily remember the many verses ad
dressed to his wife, such as “Oh Fairest of
the Rural Maids,” written about the time
of their marriage; “The Future Life,”
speculating as to the union of their spirits
In the world to come; the “Sick Bed,” de
scribing an illness; “The Life That Is,”
rejoicing in recovery; “The Twenty
seventh of March”—the birthday of Mrs.
Bryant; “October. istjfi,'’ descriptive of
her death and burial; and “May Evening,”
a gentle reference to her loss. But in ad
dition to these, as we learn from Mr.
Goodwin’s forthcoming biography of tin*
poet, a fragment was found among his
papers, which recalls her memory in a
very tender way, seven years after her
death. The lines were unfinished and un
corrected; but we cannot refrain from
giving them as they were written—dated
“Rosyln, IHTJ.”
The moA hath not the glory that it wore,
Nor doth the ilay so beautifully die,
since I can call thee to my side no more,
To gaze upon the sky.
For thy dear hand with each return of spring,
I sought in sunny nook- the Bowers she
gave;
I seek them still, and sorrowfully bring
The ehoieest to thy grave.
Here, where I -it alone, is sometimes heard,
From the great world, a whisper ot mv name,
•loined, Imply, to some kind, commending
word.
Isv those whose praise is fame.
And then, as if I thought thou still wert nigh.
I turn me, half forgetting thou art dead,
To read' I tie genl le gladness of I liine eye
That once 1 might have read.
I turn, hut see thee not; lie fore my eyes
The image of a hillside mound appears
Where all of thee that passed not to the skies,
Was laid with hitter tears.
And i, \\ hose thoughts go haek to happier days
That lied with thee, would gladly now re
sign
All that the world ran give of fame and praise
For one svveet look <>l thine.
Thus, ever, when I read of generous deeds,
Such words as thou didst once delight to
hear,
My heart is wruug with anguish as ii Weeds
To think thou are not near.
\nd now that I rail talk no more with thee
of ancient friends and days too fair to last.
\ bitterness blends with tlie memory
of all that happy past.
Oil, when I —Mttrrh Cruturg.
I'ltllll I.OXGFKLI.OW'S -‘MICHAEL
ANGELO.”
\ndi-, I- ra B.lstian dead! Is alt that light
Gout; out, that sunshine darkened; all that
music
And merriment that used to make our lives
Less melancholy swallowed up in silence,
l.ilk madrigals sling in the street at night
l!\ pas-ing revelers' Ii is strange indeed
Thai he should die before me. ’Tis against
The law of nature that the young should die,
\ nd the old live, unless it he that some
Have long been dead who think themselves
alive. ■se
ller.si, so hi>t buried. Well, what matters it,
.•since now that greater light, that was my
Mini,
Js set, and all is darkness, all is darkness!
Death’s lightning strikes to right and left ‘if
me.
And. like a ruined wal'. the world around me
< rumbles away, and I am left alone,
J have no friends, and want none. My own
thoughts
V iv now my sole companions—thoughts of her.
Thill, like a benediction from the skies
< iniii' Jo me in my olitude and soot lie me.
When men are old, the incessant thought of
Death
Follows them like their shadow; sits with
t hem
i At every meal; sleeps with them when tliev
sleep;
f * And when they wake alreadv Is awake,
And standing hv their bedside. Then, what
mill
It. >s in ii- to make an enenn
Os tliis importunate follower, not a friend!
To me a Iriend, and not an enemy,
lliir. lie become since all my friends are dead.
Tried to I'mlei'sSanil the Tariff
Question. j
Cincinnati Morn i a;/ .Journal.
Hist name was Bill dunes. He had no
ticed Mint Congressmen had been dying
off rather fast of late, but he gave no heed
to the warning-. He considered it the
duty of every intelligent working man
to aci|uai»t himself with the affairs of
his country, so that he might be able to
exercise the right of the ballot intelligent
ly. Mr. Jones began to study up the
ituritr quest ion.
There was the wool schedule, the metal
schedule, and the patent medicine
schedule, lit order to obtain a thorough
undeiTdnnding of the matter he com
menced to read thet'ongressional reports.
The better to mentally digest the im
portant subject, he read the Senate de
bates one day, and the next day took the
House debates aud chewed at them. The
toughest part of each he bit off and laid
by for Sunday. He pondered daily, and
meditated nightly, till finally lie was on
the metal schedule. Friends began to no
tice something wild in his eye. He began
to reason about the protection of home in
dustries. lie urged it in the Daniel Web
ster Literary Society. He vowed to get
to the bottom of the tariff or burst. He
planted Ids faith on the Congressional
•reports as on the rock of the eonstitu
a ion.
Smith asked him one day to lend him a
--teel pen.
•ath. yes,” said Jones, “steel blooms.”
Shall We have tariff for revenue or tariff
for prohibition of home industries:-’ Is it
protection for revenue we want? 1 say
let us offer the follow ing amendment aud
tax the ways and Means Committee nine
and five-sixteenths cents ad valorem, and
protect the manufacture of American dia*
moiuis. Give us horizontal reduction of
.the double duty on bay. Hold an all night
session. Make a sliding scale of the cot
tkon ties, weigh the proprietary medicines
in lhem, aud import all-wool silk velvets
according to schedule No. ■>. Expumrethe
t'ontjrcssional Record freeofduty. No,no!
I am wrong. What we want is to take the
wool out of the sugar and give the people
steel rails and quinine free, three times a
Hay, ad valorem.
“Jones, you’re crazy,” said Hinitli.
■“That’s it. that's it,” nodded Jones.
-•Protect American labor bv steel blooms.
If it ain’t a good year for them, extend
the lime on tobacco in the leaf: pass bond
ed spirits through the Custom House raw
at ten cents a yard. Double the duty on
sugar milk, fti ll you. Bring up the in
ternal 'revenue U\ a two-third majority
cm hog bristles at the tail end of the ses
sion.’ ’
“Jones, Jones. Jones!" groaned Smith.
“Cogged ingots ” w out on Bill Jones.
His eye rolled. hi> .«roatli came quick and
short, beads of perspiration broke out
upon bis brow, lus hair stood on end.
•“Crank pins," h> murmured, huskily.
••Blooms and slabs by whatever process
mad,'. Blocks or blanks, punched or not
punched. Here's hoopiron and itooppoies.
•coming in under schedule No. 1. swaged
-teel. class id. Id per centum ad valorium,
valued above d cents per pound. J' ± cents
per pound. The bloated farmers' life
Monet «’iII be drained to keep up all the
lithe,' classes of steel herein nut otherwise
special!.! provided for in this act. The
country’s gone to smash. There will
never be another Republican President.”
Ho fell to the ground w ith an attack of
paralysis of tlie brain. They loosened his
neekcloth and applied the usual vestora
proof spirits released front bond on
payment of internal revenue taxes. It
was no good .doctoring him. Reason had
tied. From tday on he was a harm
less’lunatic. Du account of the number
and respectability of Ids relatives, how
ever. Mr. Jones w as not ineareetated in an
asylum. He runs at large a wild-eyed,
broken man. He wanders inoffensively
about with a cogged ingot in his brain,
and a steel bloom on Ins nose. He fancies
he is chairman of the conference com
mittee for coming to an agreement about
the duty on imports. At other times,
hours long, be holds muttered conversa
tions with invisible bonded spirits. Now
.and then a momentary gleam of reason
flitted across the darkened soul. .4* such
times he asked gently if Congress Is dope
with the tariff question yet.
Silesia yields a kind of asbestos which
is made up of short, interw oven fibres, and
it has more than three per cent, of soda.
“Rough on Hats.”
Clears out rats, mice, roaches. Dies,
ants, bed-bugs, skunks, chipmunks, go
phers. 15. Druggists.
el)c Sttnitog ittcrateg
SIGNORINA LESSIE.
The old-fashioned red brick house known
as Mulgrave Lodge, with its green lawns
and wooded plantations sloping down to
the banks of one of the prettiest back
waters of the Thames, was taken, so it
was said in Mulgrave. not only for the
summer, but for good, by a widowed lady
with two daughters. In one important
respect, however, this report was inac
curate, for the two giris proved to be
neither Mrs. ingrain’s daughters nor
sisters to one another. The curiosity
aroused in the neighborhood by the singu
lar discovery that all three ladies bore dif
ferent names was soon gratified, as the
new comers were fgank, friendly people,
with nothing in their history to conceal or
make a mystery of.
The youngest of the girls was the daugh
ter of Mrs. Ingram’s sister, who had mar
ried an Italian gentleman, and died soon
after the birth of her only child. Little
Alessandra Veglio had spent her early
childhood in Italy, but had passed, on her
father’s death, when she was only four
teen, into the guardianship of her aunt,
then residing in Dresden. Mrs. Ingram
was the kindest of women, and Lessie, or
the Signorina, as she was often called,
was happy enough, studying diligently
under various foreign masters, and
thoroughly enjoying the summer months,
during which it was her aunt’s habit to
travel about the Continent. The second
winter in Dresden a singing mistress was
engaged for her in the person of a young
English girl, one of a large and poor
family, and the possessor of an exquisite
voice, which had undergone training for
the profession at a first-rate conservatoire.
There was no trace of birth or poor up
bringing about Marion Ellis; her face and
figure were those of a delicately nurtured
aristocrat; her manners self-possessed,
graceful and exceedingly fascinating; her
voice was low and musical, her speech
refined. Mrs. Ingram literally fell in love
w ith hgr, and it was not long before her
infatuation reached such a pitch that
nothing would content her short of having
the girl live with her always. Poor Lessie
found herself suddenly of no account, for
Marion became to all intents and pur
poses the mistress of the establishment.
She might invite friends, order tlie car
riage, dismiss servants just as slit* chose;
and though iter manner lent a charm to
everything she did, Lessie was not happy
under the new administration.
Marion was never reluctant to tell her
story, and she had a pretty way of allud
ing to her ow n absolute poverty as com
pared with Lessie’s easy means, and to
the l ast debt ot gratitude she ow ed Mrs.
Ingram, Only one thing about herself she
was careful to keep secret from her Mul
grave acquaintance, and this was her en
gagement to a Mr. Austin Longworth,
whom she had met at Dresden. He was a
man of good family, and already devoting
himself with so much energy and success
to political life, that his parents had
refused their consent to liis marriage with
the penniless'Marion, whom they deemed
unworthy of the position to which their
son would raise her. While the matter
remained thus in abeyance, it was only
natural that the girl should not care to
make it public.
To outsiders it seemed as if Marion and
Lessie must be the greatest of friends, yet
such was very far from being the ease.
Attractive as Marion was, she lacked Hit*
real warmth of heart, the Unselfishness,
and especially the sincerity, which a na
ture like Lessie’s demanded. The sensi
tive Italian girl, embarrassed in company
by the shyness of her temperament and by
the consciousness of an incurable though
slight foreign accent, formed the greatest
possible contrast to the beautiful Marion,
who felt and used her power with a skill
worthy of better aims. We have seen how
blindly Mrs. Ingram gave- way- 4o her.
Mulgrave was not slow to follow suit, and
Marion queened it here, as she had in
Dresden society, by the mere force of
a strong, selfish will, acting behind a
person and manner of most exceptional
charm.
Yet one mail in Mulgrave seemed proof
against the spell she exercised so w idely.
Mark Watson, the young and able doctor
of the place, had the perversity to pay the
most marked attention to the dark-eyed
signorina, while he almost ignored the
brilliant Miss Ellis. Marion was piqued.
l>r. Watson was the finest and cleverest
man in Mulgrave. and his indifference was
an insufferable slight, Site exerted herself
to please him, and against his will Dr.
Watson found himselfbroughtcontinually
into contact with her—called upon to take
her down to dinner, to accompany her on
her rides, to turn over the leaves of her
songs. He was no awkward youth, but a
tnan who had seen much of the world; and
while he never really swerved from his
first allegiance, he responded to Marion’s
advances with a grace that seemed to the
inexperienced Lessie like the humble sub
mission of a lover. The poor child saw,
wondered, distrusted and grew sick at
heart.
“Does Dr. Watson know you are en
gaged, Marion?” she asked one day.
“Certainly not,” replied Marion, hastily;
“and 1 do beg of yon to keep that secret
front him, and everyone else in England.
Supposing Austin's parents are obstinate,
do you think I should want it known that
1 had been thrown over?”
“Os course not,” answered Lessie, “but
I can not understand the way in which
you flirt with every man you meet, just as
if Mr. Longworth never existed.”
It was the first time Lessie had ever so
addressed Marion, for they were not on
terms to make friendly remonstrance
possible.
Marion smiled softly to herself, umj,
laying her hand lightly on Leslie’s
shoulder, looked penetratingly into the
young girl’s face.
“Poor little signorina!” she said, in a
significantly compassionate tone—“poor
jealous little signorina!”
Lessie shook herself free, and for a mo
ment her eyes flashed dangerously. Then,
restraining herself, she said, coldly:
“Remember, Marion, that if I were jeal
ous 1 could satisfy my jealousy at any" mo
ment by telling Dr. Watson of your en
gagement.”
Marion laughed sweetly.
“I know you better, Lessie; you are not
capable of acting so meanly.”
Lessie made no reply, and Marion left
the room, not without a faint sense of
compunction. Nevertheless, when Dr.
Watson made his appearance that even
ing, site monopolized him in just her usual
gracefully selfish way, and the proud, pale
signorina stole out into the garden to
suffer in lonely silence.
Marion’s w onderful voice was borne out
to her on the quiet, fragrant evening air,
and site pictured the group inside—Marion
at the piano, Dr. Watson at her side, and
Mrs, Ingram in an easy chair l»y the
window."listening contentedly.
“Signorina!”
Site looked up with a start of surprise at
Dr. Watson, who had come n*|t to iter in
the middle of Marion’s song, lit 1 sat
down beside her and tried to talk, but
Lessie w as ill at ease, and only saved her
self from betraying disquiet by respond
ing with eurt, chilly dignity Mark rose
at last, gave a soft of sigh, and returned
to Marion. “ .
Next day Lessie was in the plantation
by th<‘ w ater side, when the soft splashing
of oars fell upon her ear. and a boat con
taining only l)r. Watson and Marion
passed up the backwater. The young
man w as just dipping his sculls lazily into
the water, evidently absorbed in what he
was sayiug to Marion, who listened with
doyvn-bent head.
Leslie leaned against a tree and watched
them w ith a sore heart. As soon as the
boat had passed and she could ti)Qve with
out fear of being seen, she hurried to her
room. No tear fell from her hot e\ es, no
sob eased the aching of her breast, for the
girl wa* on |ier mettle and resolved to
maintain self-control.
••I will not give way—l will not give
way," she repeated over and over again,
clasping her hands and moving restlessly
about, strength came, and presently,
after bathing her feverish face, she went
and helped her aunt, who was arranging
some flowers.
“Marion has gone tip the backwater
to get some w ater lilies,” observed Mrs.
ingrain.
“Has she? I think it is a pity to pick
them; they never look well off the water,”
said Lessie.
“Marion is sure to manage sd that they
do. though." returned Mrs. Ingram, whose
faith in her favorite's power was un
bounded. “There is a plaseant surprise
for her when she comes in—a letter from
Mr. Longworth. I wonder what is in it?”
Soon Marion appeared and Mrs. Ingram
gave her the letter.
“I must*just run up stairs and w ash my
hands.” said the girl, taking it eagerly.
“I'll be down and arrange those lilies in a
moment.'’
Mrs. Ingram laughed.
“Go along, darling, and read your pre
cious letter in private.”
A few minutes later Marion called soft
ly from her room, “Mrs. Ingram!” a sum
mons immediately responded to; and soon
after she came down, and with a flush on
her beautiful face, asked Lessie to con
gratulate her.
“Austin’s parents are relenting, and
I'm to go and stay with them—on trial for
a month, like a sewing machine."
Lessie looked up quietly.
“What "ill Dr. Watson say?”
“Dr. Watson!" exclaimed Marion,
breaking out in her charming laugh.
"Why, you dear, foolish little thing! he
has know n of my engagement all along.*'
• I don't believe you.”
Marion shrugged her shoulders.
“Ask him yourself, then.’’
At tiiis point Mrs. Ingram entered the
room, and the subject of Dr. Watson was
dropped. Lessie remained convinced that
he would be broken-hearted, and she
resolved promptly not to pity him in the
least, or to take any notice of him.
Nothing would induce her to console a
man for the loss of another woman.
Nevertheless, before a fortnight was
over her resolution w as hopelessly broken,
ami eight or nine months later a double
wedding took place from Mulgrave Lodge.
Mrs. Austin Longworth was a very
much more important member of society
than Mrs. Mark Watson; blit Lessie
made far the sweeter, truer wife. Marion
lived in the constant whirl of activity for
which she was so eminently well fitted by
nature, while Mark and Lessie rarely left
the quiet village where they first met.
“What were you saying to Marion in
the backwater that day?” asked Lessie
one evening as she and her husband wan
dered by the river side.
“Did you see us, signorina? I was tell
ing her that, fortunately for me, 1 knew,
through a friend in Dresden, of her en
gagement.”
“She didn’t tell you about it herself
then ?’’
“Oh, no,” said Mark, with a'peculiar
smile: “it wouldn’t do to let the second
string know there is a first.”
“And you are quite sure you never did
care for lier at all ?”
"Listen, Lessie,” said Mark, standing
still and speaking earnestly. “You see
tiiis broad, swift stream—do you think it
could ever flow backward? No more
could the current of my love, once set
toward you, ever recede—ever alter its
course for a moment."
A LEPER.
The Terrible Disease Which the Best
Philadelphia Doctors Failed to Cure.
Philadelphia- Special, 25th.
A remarkable case of leprosy has just
come to light in this city. Several months
ago a young man came to Philadelphia as
t lie patient of Professor Samuel 1). Gross.
He has just been sent home uncured. Doc
tors Hagen and Toyusseau, who are .well
known on the Sandwich Islands, sent the
patient with a letter of introduction and
a description of his condition to Professor
Gross, stating that they had advised a
trip to this country as a change, and for
the benefit of good medical advice. The
full name of the patient is withheld, his
initials being given as H, F. and his age
as thirty-four. He was born in Honolulu,
Ids parents being emigrants from New
Hampshire. He had always led a rather
dissipated life, and about eight years ago
after a slight indisposition noticed a dead
spot on the skin just above t+rr •fcnmyf Tt
spread slowly and was only about twice
as large four years after its tirst appear
ance, This was the beginning of the
leprosy with which so many of tlie Sand
wich islanders are afflicted. During the
fifth year, however, the dead spot in
creased and rapidly spread. The fingers
and toes became very sensitive and sharp,
pricking pains ran through the extremi
ties. This was succeeded by a dead feel
ing, which put the young man into such a
condition that he could scarcely distin
guish solid substances when picked up by
the hands. He was placed under medical
treatment, but in spite of it his state con
tinued to grow worse, llis nose became
red and dead to the touch, and a small ele
vation appeared between the eyebrows.
The previous symptoms became more
marked and a torpid feeling set in in the
small of the back. It was at tips stage he
was brought to Philadelphia. The trip, it
was thought, would not endanger others
on the steamer in w hich he came, as the
disease was regarded as non-contagious,
Dr, John V, Shoemaker, wljo took so great
an interest in the ease that lie has written
a treatise which describes it from the be
ginning, prescribed a treatment. It was
an aperient pill, followed by a dose con
sisting of two teaspooufuls of compound
tincture of gentian with five drops each of
tinctcre of mix vomica and diluted phos
phoric acid in water, administered after
meals; it was hoped by these remedies to
tone up the digestive organs and assist
nutrition. Equal parts of Chaulrnoogra
oil and qleate of mercury were ordered to
he rubbed over all tfie anaesthetic spots
after the sufferer had taken a steam vapor
bath. A clinic was shortly afterward ar
ranged. at which were present, among
others, Dr. C. Young, Chicago; Dr. S.
Sutton, Mendon, Pa.; Dr. Fred’k De Craft,
Germany, and Dr. F. F.. Stewart, of this
city. Dr. Shoemaker stated that the dis
ease could, by proper hygienic measures,
be alleviated but not cured, an opinion
which is largely Jicld. After the clinic, at
which nothing was devised for the benefit
of the patient. Dr. Shoemaker advised him
to leave Honolulu to seek some agricul
tural district in a cold, mountainous re
gion and to keep Jiis mind and body both
employed. At this he grew very despond
ent and said that on his way to the city he
had every hope of being cured; that the
thought of being an outcast in society, to
be hunted down for isolation and to be
shunned by every one had almost turned
his reason and he only wished to die,
A Provident Englishman.
Toronto AV ich.
An affable, though somewhat desiccated
American was on tis way the other day
to the city of Boston. He had, with that
thrifty forethought of his nation, secured
a lower berth, aud was meditating upon
the wisdom of gathering his body behind
the curtains when he was accosted by an
Englishman in a tweed suit. The English
man was of an ample presence and had
the air of one who had been pastured on
mutton chops all his life.
“You " ill excuse me." said he of the
tweed siiiit, “but am 1 right in supposing
that you have the lower berth?”
"You bet your life," replied the other.
"My sister,” said the owner of the tweed
suit, "has the upper berth, which is deuced
awkward, you know. The fact is. added
the Englishman, with frank uibanity,
“it's unpleasant for ladies to climb iip
past a man in a lower berth. Now, might
1 ask you, *ir. to do iqe the extreme favor
of occupying the upper berth aud''permit
ting my sister to take yours?"
The request \> as scarcely preferred when
the American, with the gallantry of a
genuine Yank, hastened to assure his
English acquaintance that nothing could
give him more pleasure tlfiui to be of ser
\ ice to a lady.
On the following morning the American
was astonished to see a pair of tweed legs
emerge from a lower berth opposite that
which he bad politely given up. and the
next moment the adipose upper extremi
ties of the Englishman.
“Say,” said the American, as an air of
grave disgust began to creep over his
astonished physiognomy, “didn't you ask
me to give up my lower berth to your
sister?"
“Cetainly, my dear fellow.” replied the
gentleman addressed, “hope vou slept
well?”
-And you had a lower berth?"
“< )f course.”
••And then you got me to give up mine
to your sister, sir?"
“Why, my dear fellow,” said the Eng
lishman, in his turn “you didn’t expect
I'il give up a lower berth to my own sister,
did you?"
“ Buchnpaiba.”
Quick, complete cure, all annoying Kid
ney, Bladder and Urinary Diseases, ft.
Druggists.
SAVANNAH, GA., SUNDAY MORNING, MARCH 4, 1883.
A WESTERS ROMANCE.
The Lively Imagination of a Denver
“Tribune” Reporter.
The Denver (Col.) Tribune of the ICth
inst.. has the following interesting but
rather "previous" storyT
On the night of March, 2. 1883, Senator
Edmunds entertained a select party of
friends at his rooms on K street in Wash
ington. The guests were Senators Tabor.
Hoar. Sherman, Cameron, Logan. Ingalls
and Beck, and a pale, slim gentleman
whom Senator Tabor introduced as a Mr.
Hopkins, of Colorado. This genial party
sat around tlie stove and sipped wine,
smoked cigarettes and recounted literary
reminiscences of Rabelais, Boccaccio and
Balzae. until finally Senator Hoar pro
posed a small game. Mr. Hopkins, the
pale, slim gentleman from Colorado, con
fessed to knowing very little about poker,
but the rest of the party insisted upon
his sitting in with them, and he was tin)
much of a gentleman to hold out. Ac
cordingly. when the group arranged itself
around the table it was in the following
order: Sherman. Hoar, Ingalls. Came
ron. Edmunds, Logan, Beck, Ilopkins and
Tabor.
Senator Sherman caught the first deal.
Senator Hoar anteing up a bright, new
$5 gold-piece. Mr. Hopkins passed out,
and after the draw and the betting Sena
tor Cameron took the pot on jacks and
fives. On the next deal Mr. Hopkins, the
Colorado stranger, lost S2OO to Senator
Hoar on three sixes, and the kindest sym
pathy was expressed for him on account
of liis inexperience and hard luck. But
Mr. Hopkins' ill fortune did not end here:
lie continuer! to lose steadily for the en
suing five deals, the winnings of the other
parties aggregating about $2,700 It then
came Mr. Hopkins’ turn to deal. In spite
of Senator Edmunds’ advice to draw out,
the plucky Colorado stranger said he
would remain a while longer, and he
shuffled the cards w ith more spirit than
would have been expected of a man in his
bad streak of luck. The pasteboards hav
ing been dealt the gentlemen all drew
out: with the exception of Senator Sher
man and Mr. Hopkins. The Senator stood
pat and Mr. Hopkins took one card, and
the betting began by Sherman's throwing
down a sf»o hill, which Hopkins saw and
went SIOO better. The Senator calmly saw
the SIOO and went SSOO better, Mr.'Hop
kins looked at his hand, hesitated a mo
ment, and then said he believed lie felt
warranted in seeing thessoo and bettering
it with SI,OOO. Senator Sherman smiled
sarcastically as he put up his last SI,OOO
bill and called for a check-book to make
liis check on an Ohio bank for a cool
$5,000.
“I don’t understand the game,” remark
ed Mr. Hopkins,looking paler and slimmer
than ever, “but I give it out cold and fiat
that I'm going to stay with ye!"
And Mr. Hopkins borrowed some change
of his friend Tabor, saw Sherman’s $5,000
and went him $5,000 better. There was
now about $20,000 in the pot. Sherman be
gan to grow nervous, He showed his hand
to liis friend Hoar,
"What shall T do?” heNvliispenngly in
quired.
“Sock it to the Rocky Mountain
sucker!” was Mr. Hoar’s reply; “I’ll
lend you the money if you are short of
currency.”
So Senator Hoar put up for Senator
Sherman with the remark:
“He sees your .$5,000 and calls you, Mr.
Hopkins.”
The pale, slim man from Colorado laid
down four beautiful aces,
“Well, I’m —” said Senator Sherman,
Mv, Hopkins gathered up the pot amid
a cold silence,
“I will never stand pat on four kings
again,” said Senator Sherman,
“Mr. Hopkins seciys to be in better
tuck." suggested eewftwTabor.
“Nes,” said Mr. Hopkins, “in such
good luck I believe I’ll draw out.”
“Oh, sit a while longer,” expostulated
Senator Hoar; “we’ll all be going in a few
minutes,”
Just then Senator Plumb came into
the room. The first person he saw was
Mr. Hopkins, gathering up his money.
“Well, hello, Bowen!” he cried. “You
here?”
“Well, yes, in a quiet sort of way,” re
sponded Mr. Ilopkins.
“Bowen? exclaimed Senator Edmund;
“Bowen? No, you are mistaken, Plumb.
This is Mr. Hopkins, a friend of Senator
Tabor.”
Senator Plumb broke unto a loud, long
laugh.
Senator Sherman looked offended; so did
Senator Edmunds and the rest of them
—all except Senator Tabor, who seemed
to be embarrassed about something.
“I see it all,” cried Senator Plumb, as
soon as lie had managed to repress his
laughter; “Tabor has been playing one of
his jokes on you, Hopkins, indeed? Why,
this is Tom Bowen, the new Senator from
Colorado, and the rattlingist poker artist
in America!”
WASHINGTON CANONIZED.
Tin* Chinese Worshiping Him as the
Laundry man’s Josh.
Ytu: York Morning Journal.
The extraordinary server wit'll which the
Chinese residents observed the day was
one of the most noticeable of Thursday’s
features. .\s a general thing the laundry
men put up tfieir shutters and, lighting
their opium pipes, sat in cool linen and
Nankeen costumes on their front steps
bareheaded, discussing in Chinese the
main events in the career of George
Washington. Nearly all of them hoisted
little American flags, and not a few deco
rated their ironing boards with cheap
lithographs of George and put up colored
lanterns over the entrance ways.
At flje Joss House in Mulberry street,
quite a large crowd of influential Chinese
had assembled and were going through
some kind of ceremonial understood to be
commemorative of the day. Over the Joss
altar was erected a large painting of
Washington crossing the Delaware in a
junk, which was strung from stem to
stern with colored lanterns, This was
the work of Cam-Peon, a Chinese artist,
Over it was an inscription in characters,
which read in English “Washee-washee
god.”
An investigation led.to the startling dis
covery that the Chinese laundryinen of
New York had imbibed the notion that
Washington had been a boss laundryimui.
Whether this singular error rose from the
enormous quantity of ruffled shirt front
in which the father of his country is
always represented, or only from the sig
nificant first syllable of his name, it was
impossible to learn, But it was very evi
dent that he was being honored according
to the ancestral worship system as the
Great Washee-Washee.
When the full flavor of this fact burst
upon the reportere, he was so overwhelmed
that he was unable to push his investiga
tions any further. But meeting Ben-zeen.
the high priest of Joss, coining out of a
policy shop, he undertook to interview
him.
"Look here, Ben, what are your people
doing to-day?”
• Yelly good day," said Ben. “Yelly
goodee. Great Washee—him too, big
washee. Much grandee, washee Joss."
“But-'George wasn’t a washee Joss.
You’ve made a mistake."
••No miltakee —belly good Joss washee.
No tell lioe like Melican mac. Chinaman
findee alie oute Washee father countlee,
All a timee in wall, all a tiniee in peace,
all a timee inside coiintleemen. No mis
taken. Chinaman make Washee Joss."
From this astonishing revelation the
dazed reporter gathered that the enthusi
asts Chinese Americans had canonized
the Father of liis country, and had agreed
to set off extra firecrackers, light extra
lanterns and smoke extra opium in his
honor.
A communication to the Academy of
Sciences, Paris, by M. Chevreul. presents
evidence that Joseph Hubert, the friend
and successor of Poivre, in the Island of
Reunion, recognized as early as 178-8, or
ten years at least before the English and
German savants, the gyratory nature of
cyclones. It is alleged that Hubert, in
lsis, or several years before Dove, ascer
tained the complete formula of the double
motion of gyration and translation of cy
clones.
A Slight Cold,
if neglected, often attacks the lungs, j
Brown’s Bronchi u. Trochks give sure
and almost immediate relief. Sold only I
in boxes. Price 25 cents, ’ I
“THE (OrNTESS’” ROMANCE.
A Story Told at the Grave of the He
roine of Whittier’s Poeiu.
Rocks Village, where lived A out Mose.
The muttering witch-wife of the gossip's tale,
is a charming little nook on the Merrimac
river, away from the busy lines of traffic—
A place for idle eyes and ear-,
A cob webbed nook of dreams.
Left by the stream whose waves are years.
The stranded village seem-.
And it is here that Whittier also found,
amid
Did customs, habits, -viper-tit ion-, fear*.
All that lies- buried under fifty years,
the incidents for his sweet poem of "The
Countess.’* ••The Countess” was a young
girl of scarcely twenty years when the
Count Francis Vipart' came to Rocks
Village with a friend, lmth exiles from the
Island of Gauddoupe. He sa" Mary
Ingalls, a beautiful, golden-haired. blue
eyed girl, the belle of the little village,
and her beauty together with a gentle
and sweet disposition, attracted hint
at once. He walked with her
along tlie “straggling road’* which
comes down “over the wooded northern
ridge,” to her church standing near the
burial-ground on the land “that slopes
against the west." The church is now re
moved ; but later in the afternoon of tlie
day on which we visited the place we met
an old gentleman of 80 who remembered
tlie church and the time when only two
slept in the graveyard, which is now full.
He also informed its that the worshipers
were called together by the sound of a
horn,
“Tlie Countess” was the daughter of a
laboring man, and an 1. of the house where
she was born is still standing. And if was
here in these ancient rooms that the little
love romance of Rocks Village was lived
out,
"Her simple daily life lie saw
By homeliest duties tried.
In all things by an untaught law
Os fitness justified.
For her aside his rank he laid;
He took tile hue and tone
Os lowly life and toil, and made
Her simple ways his ow n.”
There is still living in a neighboring town
a white-haired old lady of so, who treas
ures up with pious care a set of knives
and torks which were a bridal gift from
the Count to his young wife; anil she will
relate to the curious listener how the
Count Francis Vipart established evening
dances in the village for the young people,
and bow devoted he was to his beautiful
wife. “My mother," said she, “knew her
well, ami often used to say that she was
the most beautiful girl she had ever seen,
so gentle and kind,”
Late in the afternoon of that autumn
day we stood by the grave of the Coun
tess, marked by slate head and foot stones.
On the headstone is the inscription:
* ... »
MARY,
Wife of Francis Vipart,
of Guadeloupe,
died Jan. 5, ISO”,
ad. 21.
the last it in Guadeloupe being omitted
and placed over the other letters after
ward. The headstone is quite elabor
ately ornamented with a funeral-urn and
weeping willows at the top, like an an
cient sampler, and elaborate though rude
ly carved columns at the sides. On the
footstone are simply the words;
MARY VIPART. 1807.
Before leaving I made a sketch of the
spot, with its sere dead ferns, its tangle
of wildbrier vines, crimson-leaved by
frost, and the short brown spires ot with
ered grass growing in tufts over the
moundless grave.
“All! 1 U'v though low be long;’’
and short indeed .it was to the lovely Mary
Ingalls, who lived out her love romance in
one brief year, and came to her long rest
in the graveyard near the village church.
Naturally delicate and frail, she sacrificed
herself by unremitting exertions at the
bedside of her sick mother, and a quick
consumption ended all too soon her beau
tiful and loving life.
The Count was inconsolable after her
death; he parted with everything that
could remind him of his gentle wife, and,
finding the scenes of his married life too
painful after his short year of happiness,
lie left the village never to return,
I almost wish to pass over the sequel of
Count Francis Vipart in silence. As re
lated to us by Miss R. I. Davis, who wrote
to Guadeloupe and obtained his subse
quent history, the Count returned there
after the death of his beautiful Mary, was
married again, and left many descend
ants on the island, where he is buried.
And this was in 1807, an era of great
events in France. Eylau and fried land
were fought; Napoleon was at the zenith
of liis power. Glory called the French
man to the victorious eagles of his great
Emperor, Vipart should have been in
consolable, and drowned his sorrow in
the excitement of the battlefield, lie
should gloriously have closed his romance
by falling in the disastrous retreat from
Moscow, the last of his regiment, or in
doing some heroic deed for the memory of
his lost darling. But what a prosaic
end!—he marries, and is the father of a
family.
TliE BERNHARDT JEIYKLS.
Some of tlie Noted Actress’ Souvenirs
i*nd Where Came i rouD
London iJaily Npus.
Nearly (‘very one ol tlie precious jewels
which Madame Bernhardt parted with at
the recent sale was a souvenir of the most
distinguished homage in the world. Queen
Marguerite, of Italy, gave the “very hand
some collar of pearls and brilliants", repre
senting a garland of foliage, with a palm
leaf for a centre-piece,” while Her
Majesty's brother-in-law, the Duke of
Aosta, offered the bracelet in “a mat
enriched with a sapphire and a brilliant,'’
The three fine broaches in the form of a
winged dragon “are the tribute of a Rus
sian Princess,” and an English Prince,
who will one day be an English King,
gave the “flue Indian bracelet in enameled
gold, representing a serpent with two
heads, enriched with rose diamonds and
rubies,” as well as another trifle of an
“Indian bandeau,” dotted all over with
foolish nothings iu emeralds, rubies and
pearls. The pretty comb in finely-wrought
gold, representing an “allegoric trophy
and tragedy,” with “Quand meme,” Mine.
Sarah's own device beneath, was Emile de
Girardin’s handsome acknowledgment of
a life-like busst from her hand. Russian
ladies gave the “collar in brilliants, rubies,
emeralds and other colored stones:'’Cana
dian ladies the “fine collar of six and
twenty chatons in brilliants;” a lady of
Vienna the “pendant formed of a great
black pearl.” while admiring Americans
stand in the artist’s faithful memory for
the seven very large solitaires suspended
to the “collar of original lorm,” which in
other parts of its structure is a fine con
fusion of brilliants and rose diamonds,
l'ive young English ladies contended or
rather combined for the honor of offering
another bracelet, and Prince Deniidotf
gave the sapphires and brilliants set in the
same form.
The catalogue of tfie sale covered twenty
three pages in ever ->o many sections.
There were nine collars and diadems, ten
sets of pearls, forty-two bracelets, eight
een brooches, fifty-six miscellaneous ob
jects of worth and fifteen pieces or sets of
silver.
A Pu n kk t<> the Li FK.—Take a young
man, a tall young man. with a small hat.
a long face, a lengthy neck, a short body,
a pair of long and slim legs, with arms
to match, and both arms and legs largest
at the extremities; put him in a Seymour
coat, encase his legs in eelskin pantaloons,
with sufficient bow in the legs to give
passing glimpses between them of the
mashed and astonished world that lie*
ahead of him as he walks; cram his fiat
feet into pointed shoes; tie an eye-class
to his lappel; give him a delicate mous
tache and cane to play w ith — and if there
be a grander sight under the canopy of
heaven, we haven't time to think it up.
Perhaps a monkey with a tin tail comes
nearest to the phenomenon. —Franklin
Press.
If You Are Ruined
in health from any cause, especially from
the use of any of the thousand nostrums
that promise so largely, with long ficti
tious testimonials, have no fear. Resort
to Hop Bitters at once, and in a short
time you will have the most robust and
blooming health,
COTTAGE LIFE IN ENGLAND.
How the Middling Classes Live and
Save Money.
IJarj/er's Basar.
To begin with house rent. Let us sup
pose the cottage of a thateher or other
tradesman, like a painter or under tanner,
consisting of six or seven rooms, there
will be a tidy parlor, a kitchen and out
side kitchen and three toflveupper rooms.
For this and a piece of ground he will pa\
about S2O a year, certainly not more, and
his taxes mat be s."> or stf. He will be
sure to cultivate his ground so a* to brine
in all tlie vegetables needed for his family,
and there will Ik? poultry, and one pig at a
time fattening for family use few, unless
those with alarm, caring for more than
one animal of the kind. One pig will
supply the family with bacon for the win
ter. and the good housewife alw a> > under
stand-the curing of hams, and instructs
her daughters in the same. Occasionally
egg* will be sold at such a cotta g/, lmt a»
a rule there are always one or two women
in the village who make such their ex
elusive right—“dairy women,’* who sell
butter and eggs aiul milk and cream.
Now let us see what the cottager's ex
penses art*. Meat is sold him at about lt>
cents a pound, almost the only article of
liis consumption which is dearer than it
might be in an American village, and. un
less a few groceries, almost the only
article he needs to buy, His meals will
probably boas follows; Breakfast —bacon,
cither fried alone or chopped up with po
tatoes, coffee or beer, and ;t modicum of
bread. Dinner—a stew, or a piece of
boiled meat with greens—one vegetable
and occasionally a simple pudding; to this
is often added beer or eider, Tea w ill be
sure to consist only of bread and butter
(or treacle and tea, unless w ater cress Ik*
available; and m some cases a supper of
bread anil cheese will follow before bed
time. Oatmeal porridge has lately come
into more general use in England, and the
poorer class are beginning to liml out bow
to bake beans, and make use of American
self-raising Hour, etc., while American
meats, even down to bacon, are eagerly
sought for as cheaper if not better.
In regard to his other family expenses,
the question of clothes is far simpler than
in our country, for, except in rare in
stances, such a man’s daughters would not
think of finery; a “tidy” appearance dur
ing the week, a simply trimmed bonnet
and “best” gow n for Sundays, being all
that is necessary. Shoes and boots are
always of the most primitive and durable
fashion, and the stockings w orn are nearly
always knitted by the women of the
family, Should a dress be made “out,” a
woman of this class would rarely pay
above one dollar for the making, so that a
costume suitable for even church going
would not cost above three or four. Prints
or calicoes are comparatively high priced,
twelve cents a yard being ordinarily
asked for a good quality. M inor expenses
are few. It is wonderful how frugally
such a family contrives to live, ami yet
with the utmost appearance of decency
and the necessaries ol life. At as early
an age as possible such a man’s daughter
will go into service, which accounts for
the excellence of nearly all English
servants. They come from careful, cleanly
and well regulated households, and nearly
all have learned at home the domestic
arts, needlework included. The sons are
early apprenticed and generally live at
home until their trade is learned, giving
■ into the family exchequer their earnings.
It was surprising to qs to see how often
such a household as w e describe lays by
money, for at most the income rarely
exceeds three to live hundred dollars a
year—more, as we know, than many
curates with large families have, since
two hundred and fifty to four hundred are
generally the income of these minor
clerical gentlemen —yet -*nHrde-ftffßuvmsyi
few frugal-minded cottagers being with
out some hoard, for sickness or sudden
need. The great drawback to prosperity
in some cases is the existence of “long
bills.” Tradesmen, laborers, thatchers,
etc,, are often only paid once or twice a
year, so that in their turn they are com
pelled to have bills with their butcher and
baker, the system of long credit serving
rich and poor in England alike, and, let
us say, serving them often, in both cases,
to their ruin.
BA ILI NG FOB LIFE,
four Days lu a Stove-in Boat on the
Spanish Main—Lain! at Last.
Xeir York If era hi.
Captain Brotherton, one of the witnesses
to the insult offered to the American
Hag by the Dutch commandant of the fort
at the entrance of the harbor of Cuntcoa,
is himself the hero of an adventure of a
thrilling nature, He owned and com
manded a brigantine which sailed from
Newfoundland about the end of Decem
ber to load w ith guano at Oehilla, a guano
dock about one hundred miles from the
roadstead of La Guayra, the port of Gar
aevas, the capital of Venezuela. He
started from Oehilla some time in Jan
uary, intending to return to Newfound
land, but had hardly sailed twenty-four
hours before it was discovered that the
brigantine had sprung a leak and was fill
ing with water very last. The guano
mingling with the w ater made the pumps
unserviceable, and Captain Brotherton re
solved to abandon his vessel at some point
about ninety miles east of Puerto Cabello.
There were two boats on the brigantine—
one a small boat or dingey, the other the
long boat, The long boat was furnished
with water, canned provisions, extra
clothing and everything necessary for the
voyage to Puerto Cabello and was
launched. Unfortunately, there was con
siderable sea. for there are many strong
currents running along the coast of the
Spanish main, and these when there is any
wind make a confused and disagreeable
sea even tor a large steamer.
The brigantine was rolling''heavily, and
between the motion of the vessel and the
movement of the water the long boat was
partially stove in almost as soon as
launched. The dingey was far too small
to contain the whole party, and it was
hastily agreed that they should not sepa
rate, but would cling together and accept
w hat Providence should send them. Thev
all, therefore, scrambled into the leaking
boat—the Captain, his wife and their little
daughter tw o vearsold; the cook, mate
and four seamen. They then hoisted the
spritsail and jib and bore for Puerto Ca
bello, leaving behind.them the brigantine
lurching awfully from side to side and
looking as if she w ould go dow n every
minute.
Then commenced a long period of suffer
ing. The boat leaked so bgdlv that "they
could never stop bailing. The sea was
rough and the white caps broke over the
shivering party all the time. Thev w ere
up to their knees in water, and. though
they endeavored to patch up the breach in
the boat with clothing and bits of
oarblades, the clear water kept gushing
in unceasingly. The little girl was shield
ed by the mother as well as possible, but
being continually wet she wailed and
moaned fretfully until she became quiet
from exhaustion. Captain Brotherton
steered all the time, keeping a straight
course to Puerto Cabello. No one dared
tp sleep, no one dared to keep op the
heavy sailor's Loo vs ii,at would have pro
tected them somewhat from the water,
for they all expected that the leakv and
broken up craft would sink under them
at any minute, and that they would have
to swim for it: but -till she floated.
They could make but little progress, for
the boat was so heavy with water that in
spite of a favorable wind she went but
slowly. The sun rose and set and t!i*-v
saw no sail. It rose and set again. They
had not been rescued, but the broken boat
still held good. Their never-faltering
courage was strengthened, and thev ate
their canned food with better appetite.
Another day passed, still leaving them
laboring in the trough of.the sea. Upou
the fourth day, w hen the sun rose, thev
saw in tip* distance the shore of \ ene.
«uela, and coming in slowly, but surelv.
were picked up outside the harbor by a
native fishing boat. They had hardly
transferred their effects and themselves
into the bongo when their boat tilled to
the gunwale and sank slow lv. They ar
rived in Puerto Cabello a few" hours after,
and found rest for all and medicine for the
poor lady and her child. .Mrs. Brotherton
has a brother residing in Brooklyn, ami
the shipwrecked family are staying with
him until arrangements are made for their
return to Newfoundland.
Daniel Spier, Guyton. Ga.. -ay-:
“•Brow n’s Iron Bitters'restored mv health
and strength after a long spell of. fever.”
A PALACE OF THE DEVIL.
An Effort for the Suppression of Monte
Carlo—George Sami’s Description.
The injury sustained by Marseilles.
Nice. <»enoa. and c-|vciall\ Mentone,
from the neighborhood of Monte Carlo and
its gaming tables is the subject of an
earnest article b\ Edmond Plnnehet. in
the current number of the lie cue des deux
Maudes. These cities, he sat s. w ill not
cease their protests until France, for the
sake of moral cleanliness, and Italy, for
reputation’s sake, exact that the last pub
lic gambling establishment in Europe la
abolished. Petitions signed by a great
number ot pcr-mis were sent to the French
< hambers last April. De Freveinet would
not entertain the subject ami the motion
was laid on the table. In spite of the
minister - opjsisition the Senate sent him
the petitions a month later, in that -liort
tune tlie relations between France and
Italy had changed. “If it were uue,"
Planeliet g»>es on to say, "that gambling
establishments have the power to enrich
a people instead of making fortunes for
industrial associations, the Principality of
.Monaco would long ago have l*een white
w ith marble palaces and have distanced
the rest of the coast in luxury and pros
perity. Not so. Sadness snow sin the faces
of the miserable inhabitants and more
wretched soldiery. Saddest of all is
the contrast between the beau tv of nature
and the ugliness of vice. The gambling
fever has extended from Monaco to the
•Massena* and “Mediterranean* Clubs at
Nice. All classes of society are affected
I>\ it. Small tradesmen ruin themselves
at play, and on gala days the roulette
flourishes in the open air. Society is de
moralized. Suicides are numerous. At
Mentone the cottages built to accommo
date the rich English and Russian inva
lids are empty. The doctors caution them
against the excitement ot gambling and
the chill air of the Mediterranean that
pierces their lungs when the} leave the
overheated rooms at night.”
«>f the many pictures that have been
drawn ol the beauties and the horrors of
Monte Carlo there is none more touching
than is giving in a letter from George
Sand,
“Strange contrast,” she writes. “We
leave the magnificence of nature to find
ourselves, of a sudden, amid the tilth of
modern civilization: from the pale rays
of the new moon, the great rock sleeping
in the shadow and the odor of orange
groves, to the fetid odor of fever and the
rattle of the roulette. Young married
w omen gamble while nurses suckle their
children on the sofas. A pretty little girl
of five drags herself to one of these and
falls asleep, overcome with fatigue, heat
and ennui. Does her unnatural mother
hope to win her a marriage portiony An
old foreign lady sits at the gambling table
witli a little lad of twelve, who calls her
mother. She seems indifferent about los
ing or winning. The child plays, too,with
the manner of a grow n person! He is used
to it,
"Restless or frightened shadows wander
around the case in the vast amphitheatre
formed by the mountain's steep sides.
They look chilly: perhaps they only look
and long for the slight refreshment thev
no longer have the means to purchase.
>ome go off w ith empty pockets. Others
accost you and almost beg for a seat in
your carriage back to Nice. Suicides are
not rare. The w aiters at the hotel seem
to have a profound contempt for the un
lucky. When one of these complains of
being badly served the w aiter answers bv
shrugging his shoulders and saving, -Suit
would not work to-night ?'
"We dine as best we can in a room full
ol little tables the people scramble for,
deafened by the chattering of adven
turesses on the lookout for a dinner and a
friend to ttav for iL We ikUjmii li, tlii.
tftuuWw-.
The villainous smell drives me a wav. We
rush to the beach and reach the tow n,
situated on a little headland delieiouslv
carved amid the w aters. The poor little
place seems to shrink, as I did, from the
bad air of the gambling-house, and to
seek refuge among the beautiful trees that
surround it.
“We climb the rock to the gloomy and
forbidden old castle. It looks tragic in the
moonlight. The palace of the l’rince is
charming, it reminds me of the fanciful
home of the Governor at Majorca. At nine
in the evening the town is silent and de
serted. We return by the beach, where
only the plash of the waves breaks the si
lence. The moon has sunk below the hor
izon. the gaslights enable us to see the
base of the great rock and throw greenish
streaks across the white marble balus
ters, The roulette is still going, the night
ingale singe, a child is weeping.”
FREAKY ACTORS
Ami Their Mean ‘Tricks on the —luge.
Brooklyn Kagle.
The nicety of good acting is not under
stood by theatre audiences. They know
on sight when the persons in a scene are
awkward or ill-timed in their movements,
but do not appreciate the care required to
prevent such faultiuess. it is only bv
thorough rehearsing and the closest adjust
ment of individual efforts to make up a
harmonious w hole that stage work is ever
brought anything near perfection. The
Wyndham Comedy Company gave a line
illustration of w hat I mean,'during their
late engagement at tin* Union Square; and
on that same stage, in spite of the discip
line maintained, I have seen bad things in
the wav of unresponsiveness between the
players. Clara Morris habitually disre
gards all rules, and 1 remember once see
ing her brought round very sharply for an
offense. She was acting Camille, 'At the
point where her young female friend, per
sonated by Maud Harrison, gave an imita
tion of a lawyer addressing ajury.it had
been rehearsed that Maud should stand
behind a certain stuffed chair, using it in
lieu of a desk or table, Well, when the
time came. Clara was sitting in that verv
chair, w hen her proper place was across
the stage. The cue for Maud to speak
was given. >he stood mute. It was re
peated. She gave the star a significant
look and gesture, but stubbornly refused
to go on. Then Clara went where site be
longed and the audience never knew the
cause of the hitch.
it was on that same occasion that .Miss
Morris was punished most severely for
disregarding previous arrangements.
When two characters are to handle each
other the actions are carefully rehearsed
in order to guard against false or clash
ing movements, Nothing is worse, for in
stance. than layers who ought to embrace
smoothly and pliantly, but who spar and
struggle like antagonists before thev
finally succeed in getting each other.
Owen Fawcett was supporting Clara in
her agonizing death scene. She ought to
have let him hold her hand at one junc
ture. In an impromptu freak she made
him remove the pillow from the place
where it belonged on the -ofa; and then
when lie attempted to grasp her hand
according to the duly rehearsed “’busi
ness.” she took into that erratic noddle an
idea of rising toiler feet. The actor did
as he had been drilled so. and she did as
she suddenly pleased. The consequence
was a violent derangement of her blonde
wig, and “Camille” died with her hair
grotesquely on end, to the laughing relief
of the spectators’ tears.
They have now in Hie Union Square a
terror in Dick Mansfield, who has made
such a hit as the dying old reprobate in
• A Parisian Romance." He won’t give
the rest of the company their rights in the
scenes which bring them into conjunction
with him. One night lie flung Eleanor
Carey’s hand petulantly off his shoulder,
to the amusement of the audience and the
blazing anger of the actress. She appealed
to Manager Palmer, clawing that sin- had
used exactly the gesture taught her at the
rehearsal, and Palmer reproved Mansfield,
who soon offended again by audibly order
ing Maud Harrison to give him a larger
share of the opportunities in the noted
supper scene, where she sits at his side in
hi- death carousal. A few night- ago in
a scene where Charley Collins figures as
hi- valet, he concluded that Collins was
too prominent. Collins repeated a phrase
in accordance with a permission granted
by stage manager Parselle.
"Shut up,” cried Mansfield.
The audience supj>osed this was all in
the play and thought no more about it:
but they did wonder what the subdued
bubble meant after the curtain fell. It
was caused by a scrimmage between
Collins and Mansfield.
Tuk quantity of nicotine ip tobacco,
say- Dr. Kisaling, fluctuate- between
wide limits.
SINGLE COPIES 5 CENTS.
PEDPIE’S PECfLATION'S.
1 he Story of a Finns Fraud in Scotland.
A correspondent of the London Times.
w riting from Edinburgh, -avs: “The ex
tent to w hich crime i- facilitated and en
couraged bv lax methods of conducting
business receives frequent illustration;
Lut it has seldom been exhibited more
strikingly than in connection with the
trand- lately discovered to have been mo
net rated on the Dissenting Ministers’
r rietidlv Society in Scotland. The slory
is a very painful one, liecau.se of the re
spectable position of many who are af
fected by it. It i- also one of the most
shameful ever laid liefone the public. In
cause the person-detrauded are widows
and t lie orphans ot dissenting elergvmen,
mail} of whom art 1 w holly dependent on
the annuities of the society for their
livelihood. A thorough examination of
the society’s affairs ha- revealed 1 ii<- fact
that of its Tu mis, amounting to £ .'50,940,
much the greater part ha- disappeared.
1 he\ securities, which mat lie regarded a
good, amount to £,‘>.ooo.
"I hedetaulter i- an Edinburgh account*
am named Denald Smith Peddie, who
suddenly disappeared about two months
ago. I in- ehiet peeuliarity in the ease is
iiiat I eddie did not hold anv recognized
otlice in connection with the society. His
brother, the Rev. Dr. Win. P.-ddie. of
Edinburgh, has been nominallv Treasurer
ot the society for the last thirty-seven
vears, has been re-elected annually and
has draw n the salary of that office, hut
Iho w holo of the business of the society
has been managed during these years b>
Donald Peddie for his brother, who see in*
to have given him half of his salary. Don
ald Pcddie's connection with the society
began still earlier. His father, the Rev.
Dr. .lame- Peddie, was Treasurer of the
society from its commencement in ITU" til!
his death in lsto. In Donald Peddie
was conjoined by his father as Assistant
I reasurer, in consideration of the ad
vanced age and failing powers of the lat
ter. who was then in hi- seventy-fifth
year. This official connection of Douald
Peddie with the society terminated at his
lather’s death in 184.'.. When his brother.
Dr. W illiam Peddie, was elected to suc
ceed his fat her. Donald Peddie was not
elected as hi- assistant, and hi- connec
tion w ith the society has been wholly in
formal for the last thirty-seven years.
"After Dr. James Pediiie's death his son.
Dr. \\ illiam,requested the directors to ap
point him Treasurer, with his brother
Donald as assistant. A committee of the
directors reported against this proposal.
They objected expressly to Donald l'ed
ilie’s appointment, because he was not a
member of the society, and because. Ik*-
ing in business as an accountant.he might
be called on to act both for a client as bor
rower and for the society a- lender. Never
theless, Dr. \\ illiam Peddie was elected
by a majority at the annual meeting of the
society in May, islii. Finding that iHmald
knew a great deal more about the society's
business than he himself did, tin* new
Treasurer gladly availed himself of his
brother’s assistance, and tin* loose and in
formal arrangement then begun, continu
ed from that time till last November,when
Donald Peddie saw that, owing to circum
stances titled ing liis character then made
public, it would be impossible for him
longer to maiutain liis position. Hethere
tore absconded and soon afterward a w ar
rant was issued for bis apprehension
on a charge <>i forgery. He has not since
been heard of, but he is reported to lie in
Spain.
" 1 license lie laid made of liis connec
tion with the society during forty-nine
years is made only too evident by the
elaborate report on the society’s affairs
prepaid by Mr. John Blair, W. s„ and
yji at a general nn-c tine-held here.
It (Voffr TrfffrfPptFr fTiafTfie funds
which have to Ik* accounted for amount to
£.‘>o.!Ho. Against this have to Ik* put se
curities classed as ‘bad,* representing
£2l, sin. some of these securities are purely
fictitious and have no deeds to represent
them. Others were represented bv deeds
w hich are forged. Others once hold by
the society have been parted with, but are
still entered in the accounts as available
assets. The securities classed as “doubt
ful’ amount to £4, ion. They are reckoned
doubtful because, in the ease of many of
them, the loss may be thrown on other
parties as fairly ason the society. The se
curities classed as ‘good’ amount, us lias
been said, only to £.‘>,iKK>, leaving a deficit
of .£20,!140."
“FRIT/ AT HOME.”
Mis Wonderful Castle a Thousand Feet
Above the Water* of the Hudson.
Xetr York World.
Mr. William Oliver, the* well-known
boat builder ol Harlem, lias begun the con
struction of a gondola lor Mr. J. K.
Emmet, the actor. “Mr. Emmet came to
me about a month ago," said Mr. Oliver
to a World reporter, “and showed me a
model of a Venetian gondola. He desired
me to have one built like it. Mr. Emmet
will retire to his castle on the Hudson
verv soon, and the gondola must be ready
for him. There are gondolas on the lake's
in Central Park and Prospect Park. They
were imported. Mr. Emmet’s gondola
will be thirty-six feet long, four feet deep
and eighteen inches deep aiuidship. 'The
keel has been laid, and the knees of hack
matack are ready for the side planking
which will be of cedar. There will be “a
cabin in the centre with Venetian blinds.
The bow, made of bright steel, w ill sup
port a swinging lantern, it has a curve
as graceful as the neck of a swan. Six
teen people can be carried iu it very coin,
fortably. The boat will be completed
about the Ist of April."
Mr. Emmet, when questioned about his
new house, said: “I have traveled ait
over the world, I may say, and have
always had one object in view —to build u
house that I could live in when 1 became
old. It is true I have a eastleon the Hud
son. about ten miles above Albany. It is
l,i)00 feet above the river, and there is no
other house in the world like it. I havu
hud it built after my ow n ideas, and have
adorned it with curiosities collected a*.
Rome. Naples, Venice, Hong Kong. Yeddo,
and, in fact, every part of the world. I
have sixteen acres of land that once
formed part of the Van Rensselaer estate,
and four acres of w ater forming a lake, on
w hich 1 propose to row my gondola and
another curious Chinese boat I have, a
junk I believe it is called. I always did
like sailing in a gondola. Hut about the
castle. Well, when you first see it vou
may not rate it very highly. But wait till
you get inside. There are no halls in the
castle nor one corner. At every turn you
meet alcoves and recesses, but no corners
and no halls. The rooms are lntng with
curiosities. Vou can not imagine what
the house is like and you might not believe
me if I told you what it cost. That’s a
► secret. I will describe my room to you.
When l awake in the morning I look up
and see three ceilings— two are circular
domes and one is triangular. My bod is
on one floor and my boots are on another.
Rocks from the Colosseum anil wood front
Via Sacra are seen next to helmets w hich
would delight the heart ot Sir Walter
-cott. and antiquities w hich would give
an antiquarian enough pleasure for a life.”
Here the reporter asked tor a more de
tailed description of the two floors* and tin
three ceilings in one room.
Well, he replied, "there are steps con -
neeting the floors in the corner—-no. not a
corner Heavens! there is not a (sinker in
the house—-bit* in the recess. I really can’t
describe the ceilings, but I assure you
that they exist. The other day my friend
John MeGullough aud 1 were then*, and
John took a Lath. Here’s the way you
bathe: \ou go into one room on the first
floor, temperature ninety degrees; go to
the second tloor, tin* same riMim, tempera
ture one hundred and tweutv-five degrees
third floor, temperature one hundred ami
sevent v-fi vc degrees. We have pipes coin
ing from the middle of the room, and so
get three different temperatures in one*
room. When John got through he said he
tmd never before had such a bath. The
walks and gardens, the stables and every
thing areas unique and original as the
house. Now, when you ask me when i
am going to go permanently and he really
•Iritz m Albany,’ or ‘Frit* at Home,’ vou
t*-* 1 me too much. Probably not for some
time to come, but when I do go 1 am sure
of going to a comfortable home.”
Mother 'huu'i Worm Syrup.
Infallible, tasteless, harmless, cathar
tic, foi le\eris hness. restlessness, worms
coustipatiou. “ioc. 1