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k-hTAHI.ISHEDIB.IO. J (j H EBTILL, Editor ana Froprietor.l ■ gii-ls. I y rm , tU Pi.il uUU'KiaTirv*. I . |i ia t arc wanted are good girls, ■w *r „ tlic heart to the UpsS ■ GW. f t r hßUlv 14 white anti ture ■T” 10 ,u s ' ,vccl 1 I t hi arc wanted are home girls, mJtner’4 right ham!. ■ hai.4 that aic |t |)rothcrs ( , a „ trust to, ■wjjVae nine ones understand. , .., fair on the hcJ*.rth^tonc% itiSissKS/Sr" BVcaSy aud anxious to please. I, , irU lh at are urantcrt nre wise tfirU. ■ l'.c t ir • w | la t to (to ml to sav, ■Jb'crivewlth a eii'.Ueor sort word B T l*le wrath o; the household away. |tvgirls that arc wanted arc girls of sense. 1‘ n’ini fashion can never ilcoo.ve, ■who ran hnlotv whatever w pretty, ■ ABl j dare what is sol? 10 lulVo - are wanted nre careful girls, T r ou. what a thing will cost; wtusc with a prudeni, generous hand, Ituixee that nothing is lost. Tie girls that are wanted are girl* with Thar o are wanted for mothers and wives; Wanted in cradle in loving arms Xas strongest and fraucst of lives, n %-,t, the witty, the brildant girl, i hev are very few, understand; iv- ,ii' for lhe wise, loving liomc g irl3 There’s a constant and steady demand. ON THE GEORGES BANKS AN IDYL OF IHE SEA. BY J. H. CONNELLY. 1 Cojpyrijhled ISS7 . ] No. It’s no use, Reuben. I won’t have It. You are a very deeeut, iikelv young fellow and some day may be worth some thing. but you are not now, and so being as you’re not, there’s no use in your talk ing of marrying Elsie.” “] suppose you think young Menuse, the shopkeeper's son, would be a better match lor her,” replied the young man, hitteriy. “Well, 1 don’t say as he would or would not, lor that isn’t the question. The point at present is about you, and l tell you, Reuben, though I’ve got no hard feelings against you, that it won’t do.” “I’m sure 1 can earn a good living for us both.” “if you keep your health and strength, why probably you can live along from hand to mouth, but who will insure the lives of us Gloucester fisbermeu for even a day when we are out on the Georges. Where’s my boy Jack ? Under the waves on the Georges. Where’s your cousin L>an* Under the waves on the Georges. How many more strong, brave, line young men, some of thorn witn wives and little ones dependent on them, do we both re ran who are under the waves on the Georges, And what would become of Klsieasapoor fisherman’s widow, with BiaybeachUd or two to take care of. ‘You would take her home again and provide for hr and them,’ thinks you. Well, 1 don’t Bay I wouldn’t; but it ain’t fair to smother the light of her young ltfe with sorrow and care. No, Reuben; it won’t do. To tell you the ulain truth, J don’t I want her to marry a man that livte by the Lsc. It’s too uncertain a life.’’ “Well, let’s wait awhile before settling Let’s waft for three years and bv lime I’ll have something saved up.” I'm no believer in long engageinenls. You’d both be growing older all ■ lime. You might change your no ■ Never!” Of course you wouldn’t. I’ve no you think so. Young men are al ■y” sure of what’s on the unturned ■•ye* Of the book of Kate. Hut, come B> h en, there’s no more use arguing ■jutlt. Consider the matter settled and ■ r-® It like a man. Don’t think anv more ■W ut Elsie and you’ll soon get over it ■ ! e hard feelings, l hope, hut 1 can’t help ■ (f there are. I’m doiag what’* best for ■ ti\” ■ “Youdisarm me when you speak in lhat ■bay, Capt. Thorne. Heaven knows I ■want what’s best for her as much as you rao, hut I’m not convinced that she would be happier with a rich landsman you picked out for her than she would be with a poor sailor that she bad oicked out for herself.” The two men shook hands, the elder re peattng: RmVa* Hard feelings between us, 1 hope. k* s n 11 , 8 “ for the H OBI - Good-by ueub. Don’t come around Elsie anv tnore, and you’ll both get over your fancy before 1002/* J wima!r n Di * ll silently shook his head and SOH “ y ;. He ,olt ai( he wanted 10 ndt ? i:i,ul<! u °t hear to be seen doing - ®" Elsie’s account. There f<T>v nt -ii l \?. rU r *' l,n *fB,” for the crush- I m L. | hls and hope could 22d nenaff” eff " otw * in 14 nwro kindly Diomer t n, e ,M eWay ’ But > JU*t for the aci ni 11 ’ n lhin * Be omed to him to bo of any use any more.” $/*•& l " I!<!• WAIT EOF. YOU, KKUBKN.” u, or’Vi;'°“” Thorn '* llß ow uer and mas ri|"’ e P ' Hh - H “1,0 bomes'i J *-‘® a rather good Ann—am? ** ji' ,n go a bout (Jape i.shares i., lt o~' *? Rle .[’ r ‘‘ u y profitable f't.i V n.„v a,,;: ; Bn o!l nnufficturlng ■ou? 11 t<> at, altogether, be auquite Kre we ll ,4nT ***•• hair and hoard ■I rkc,i vliv Z a^ 1, 'l*itugray. Buthe had 3h0(.,l beLo'Vn ,0r ! l * ll,for Bonn liln V*"™* lire of ; U ( r V , " and ,h< ’ l >,tr * lnu " and /araa.o M.f , (,1 °Beo*ter fisherman. o m or whom he ‘.Ank narf L 1 ’ entoul t 0 the Georg-s Wr w“ .itoV TANARUS" no mor< *- Then his W-edavia te a r ‘, OD,t ** ,n,n tor tier boy, "°' V . all tljal ®lt 7fe tor I*a*youn 1 *a*y oun W oo h , ar i a wa * ,llp nf *>n the hu % ban if* a*!I! *l* dp Phd6nt sololy .•Übrnman for lie r"rt n i, n * H V “ ••‘tor and together, aidhi > Mwrr 11 touch' It '-I '"lid i-o through*?* 1 tUat Reuben strode moodily along, with his hands deep in his pockets, his hat down over his eyes, and but dimly conscious that he was going in the direction of the wharf and from there on out to the Georges—where he might just as well bo under the waves as on them—when a lit tle hand was laid on his arm, and the sweetest voice In the world, as it seemed to him, said tn a tone of playful reproach: “Why, Reuben! You would pass me without even speaking, would you?’’ He raised his eyes to her dear face and replied, chokingly: “That’s what your father says I must.” The girl started, as if she had received a blow, and turned pale. For a moment both were silent. Then Reuben asked, in a tone of appeal and tenderness that went straight to her heart; ••And what do you say, Elsie?” “Just what I have said to you before, Reuben,” she replied promptly and firmly, with the flush coming back to her cheeks and deepening there, “that I love you and will never love anybody else.” “And you’il wait for me to get a little ahead in the world, won’t you, Elsie?” “1 will wait, not for a little, but as long as need be, not lor you to get ahead, but lor poor, dear, obstinaio old papa to change his mind and say ‘yes.’ ” And so it was settled betweeu them, with much more of lovers’ talk and pledges and waking dreams of the future that it is uot necessary to recapitulate, for they were the same in their essence as those that lovers have been thinking, writing, saying, sighing and singing since love began. And when, the next morning, Reuben sailud away lor those deadly banks that are so olten and aptly characterized as “Gloucester’s Graveyard,” he went with a much lighter and more hopeful heart than upon the preceding evening he< thought he would ever have again. He sailed on the schooner Sam Johnson, so named in honor of himself by Capt. Samuel Johnson, who buT. her, and from whom her present skipper—Reuben’s oousin—Capt. Johnathan Dali, pur chased her. The captains along the Massachusetts coast are rnauy. Reuben hoped to be one of them some day. Indeed, alter that parting interview with Elsie, he lelt that it was quite impossible that he should not be ono right speedily. Hut the way to a skipper’s position by the line of pro motion upon whica he was started is, as he well knew, along and hard one. Se vere toil and small gains, privation and exposure in a plaoe where death baits his trap with men’s daily bread, such would have to be the ordeaU through which he would have to pass to win his captaincy and Elsie. On the Georges Hanks, even in the calmest weather, the ground swell is very great, angry chopping seas are frequent, aud in storms the tossing of the gigantic billows becomes terrific. But the waves must run “mountain high” to deter the hardy fisherman irom going out in his frail “dory” to lay down his trawls—long lines carrying hundreds of baited books, disposed at short distances along them— or to tase them up weighted with their heavy catch of ood and halibut. This is winter work. The cold is enough to chill the marrow in one’s bones, the toil is mercilessly hard, and it is all done undor the shadow ot death. Ofteu when the fisherman is out in his “dory,” beyond hail of his vessel, a heavy fog settles down over everything, a vapor ous pal), so thick that it deadens not sight only but sound also. It is a white darkness, so impenetrable as to be a bar rier even to hope. The doomed man caught out in it is likely to lose wholly his sense of direction. He shouts until his lips are parched and his throat dry, in vain expectation of hearing some guiding response irom a vessel; he rows, until his bloodshot eyes are starting from their sockets and his muscles be oome powerless, in futile search for the vessel he may see no more; farther and farther the cruel fate lhat sports with his agony lures him out on the waste of waters, from which he comes back never again. Or, perchance, in the night, a sudden storm springs up aud the fishing smacks drag their anchors, for the ground is not good there for holding, and when morning dawns again, two of them, with all the lives aboard, are missing. Hurled together t.y the waves they have crushed each other like egg shells, and the despairing death cries of their victims have been unheard, in the shriekings of the gale, by any hu man ears, their struggles unseen save by the All Fowerlul, who sees and saves not. Tint shipper filled bis pirs. Anil there is somethin* even yet moro dreadful when an iron-browed doatb, obeying the behests of follow-men, leaps out cf the obscurity of the log of the night upon a slumbering ore.v. as a hungry ligor might pounce upon unsus pecting prey. A fortnight later thnn bis telling Reu,- )>en Dali that "it wouldn’t do,” (.’apt. John Thorne, out on the Georges Hanks, came upon the deck of the Flying Fish one night to stand the second watch. The wind was strong, but steady from the southeast, and there were uo indications of its freshening dangerously; the air wasraiher warm lor the season, and the stars were shilling. Three cable lengths awav the Sam Johnson bobbed serenely on lie crests ot the waves, and beyond laid two other Gloucester neighbors, in the same relative pooltlons they had oo oocupied in the aiternoon; so Capt. I herne knew that bin auohor was hold ing well. With a sense of rostfuines* and pros ent security at least the skipper sat him down on the deck In the lee of the main mast, his best aviulahle sholter from the wind,ar.dfell tofUling bis pipe. Then he lighted it with a match at the first trial In the leeth of the wind—the ability to do which ia doubtless a special gift of I’rovi denoe to men ol the sea und bestowed upon few landsmen. I,caning buck against the mast arid puffing an aromatic cloud, he looked over toward the Ham Johnson and thought of Keubelt l)all and Flute. Homehow he felt leas satislied with his at mule toward the young lover* than ho bad when he told Kouben that “it wouldn’t do.” Perhaps he had not taken the hast mode to Insure Flue's happinei-a after all. Certainly she hail never belore been so sad. listless and red-eyed as ulnou then. Would she “get over It?” SAVANNAH, SUNDAY, MARCH 27, 1887 —'TWELVE PAGES. Was it reflection or memory that love is a great deal to the young? Suppose he should go off on another tack and simply require the young folks to wait a while. One of the two things would be likely to bappeu: Either Reuben would “get ahead”—a* the Captain frankly admitted to himself the young fellow deserved to —or he would go down where Jack and Dan wore, and oither way the matter would be settled. And the weary man settled down more cozilv lu his seat, braced against the mast, the pipe dropped unheeded from his mouth to the deck, and he imagined that he continued thinking, while the fact was thathe was only dreaming. And his mind’s eye saw ins darling Elsie a matron, sitting in ruddy firelight that he somehow knew was her home; a chubby little toddler —strong, and golden-haired and blue-eyed, as boy Jack once looked— stood at her knee, pillowing his curls upon her lap and learning to lisp “g’an pa,” and Reuben ©all was in the picture too, with his strong right hand laid caress ingly on Elsie’s shoulder as hecalledher “wife,” and she looked up at him with the love light in her eyes like that he saw iu Marv’slong ago. Tli’e witi'l veered around to the north east, growing colder and stronger; in the chopping sea that soon arose the Flying Fish tugged and strained at her anchor like a mad, living thing in leash, the hu mid air grew so thick with fog that the feebie light of the lantern dancing in the rigging could hardly be seen across the deck, and still the s’klpper slept on and dreamed happy drearasof homo and love. Had be been awake he would have heard, at intervals, coming nearer and nearer, low-pitched, hoarse, melanchoh roars, and between them the sound o; some great tiling rushing through the waves, beating them down and breathing so hard with its exertions that the rising gale seemed to pulsate with theimpufseof its respirations. Had he been awake, he would have seen suddenly glaring upon him out of the fog two huge eyes, one red, the other green, aud between them, tow ering up terrifically high into the dome of night, looming over him and coming swift upon him, an enormous something like a sharp-edged, black, iron mountain —the stem of a steamship. And then-he would have known no more than he did when all this came upon him in his sleep, until he found himself deep down in the water, instinctively battling tor his life. As he reached the surface some bit of wreckage floating—all that was left ot the unfortunate Flying Fish —struck against him violently, almost stunning him. but he clutched it, held on manfully, supporting himself by it, and snouted for help. Too steamship that had run bis vessel down was already swallowed up in the fog. Her speed had not slackened. Per haps those aboard her were all uncon scious that their mighty engine of de struction had sent six more brave men down to rest beneath the waves on the Georges and left one flghting with the cruel billows for his life. Would they have stopped to succor him if they had known? Doubtful. Certain lines ot transatlantic steamships habitually cross the Georges Banks. It is the direct course laid down for them. If the fisher men will get in the way, why, of oourse thev must suffer. And they do so often that it is an old story. Sometimes a pas sengersays at breakfast: “I was wakeful last night, aud it seemed to me. Captain, that at one time I felt a jar, as if we hail met some slight obstruction, and that 1 heard a shriek.” “Oh! dear! No, madam,” replies the smiling Captain, “if anything of the Kind had occurred it would have been re ported to me. It was only the shock of a heavy wave that you felt; only the voice of the wind that you heard.” But far in their wake that night the affrighted gulls screamed to each other that the sound was -‘the bubbling cry ot some strong swimmer in his agony.” kind hands laid him on a vessel’s DECK. The next thing Capt. Thorne know he was In a “dory,” and somebody was wrapping a pea jacket about him. At least that is what he thought was going on, though he was not very sura about anything at the moment. Perhaps—he thought—bo was dead, and before getting used to being so was just thinking of what might have been. But then his scattered senses began coming back to him in recognizable form aa his own. There could be no question about the red light burning upon some deck; the san guinary tint came like a blush through the fog, and the halls and reponees be tween some person in the dory with him and some other person still invisible in that rosy luminosity were undoubted)} real; and the rough clutch of strong hands in frieediy haste that hustled him up on a vessel’s deck quite brought him to himself again. And then, when be knew that he alone of all thejm-n on the little smack had been saved, he quite broke down and wept like a woman. Sar and by Heuneii Dali? Oh, no! Not at all! That might have been mure ro mantic, but It didn’t happen To be the fact. The man wno saved him was a sturdy skipper, ns grizzled as himself, fattier ol a lamily ol grown boys and girls in Gloucester. But the result, so far as the young people was quite as go- and, tor reached home again his dreams came back to him, crystallized into waking thought and purpose. A (’ostmastei’s Pathetic Appeal. from t/i* Waeliingt n Poet. A postmaster at a very small office in Mlobigan, desiring to be relieved of the arduous duties thereof, beseeches the De partment, in the following bcart-rauUmg language, to relievo him: “When does ray sentence expire? It can’t be that 1 am doomed lor liie unless I Hud a Pythias to take my place. Twice have 1 resigned, but the felon might as well try to shake oil’ his letters, as silent contempt has been the fate of my epistles. Ou, please, good Mister P. M.Geu’l, let me go. and 1 promise never to do so again. 1 will never sign another petition to start a p. o. oil Cross Roads if my name figures as its master. Besides, I uin an offensive partisan and really should be llrcd, tor I made campaign speeches and am liable to do so again. I shall watch the incom ing malls with eager eye, noping against hone that uiy purdou may come and set me free. • !’• M.” Several small combs are worn in the hair instead of ono good-sued one, and tbov are tucked in apparently at random. EYES THAT SPEAK AGAIN WOMEN l\ NEW YORK WHO FLIRT WITH STRANGERS. Tils Agony that the Escort Knilures —An Incident at, Deimonlco’s—Ladle* lu Other Cities Who Think Nothing of a Quiet Street, Flirtation—Mashers Not Men of Pronounced Physical Attrac tions, Nkw York. March 26. —It would be difficult to find a more thoroughly miser ableman than the one who is abroad with a beautiful girl and who is conscious that ehe is making eyes at other men. It goes without saying, of course, that any woman who will flirt with strangers in ever so slight a degree is under bred, vul gar and ooarse, but, besides all this, she is monstrously cruel, for the agony she Inflicts upon ihe unhappy wight who chances to be her escort is not only palpable, but cruel iu the extreme, ior the man invariably shows his utter agony to the most careless of ob servers. BHK HAD BIG BLACK EYKS. On Thursday afternoon at Dalmonioo* a broad-shouldered and pleusaot-lookmg man in fashionable attire, with a pair of frank gray eyes and a ruddy color, stroliod in with a strikingly handsome girl; he eat down near a window. Bhe had nig black eyes, and before she seated herself she rolled them around the res taurant in a careless but observant (ash ion that convinced me that the man was in for it at once. And he was in for it with a vengeance. There are few girls with big black eyes who can afford to look around a room where men are sitting without appearing to do it for effect. In a minut • after the Dclmonico girl had taken her seat every eye w.ithin range was fixed upon her, and she chatted and smirked alter a fashion that was all too familiar even in a city like New York, where there is less public flirting on the part of women, as fara my own observa tion goes, than a;.y other oiD lu thu Union, excepting New Orleans. The man who was with her was not conscious at firs’ of the sly look and bold stares which she cast around, for though her eyes spoke, she did not smile, nor bestow too much attention in one quarter. The escort seemed to be having rather a pleasan’ time up to the point where his suspicions were aroused, and then by degrees lie be came the most abjectly miserable crea •ture I have ever seen. First be looked around uneasily, tnen sullenly and finally resentfully. But he was dealing with rather a cultivated lot ot men at that sort of thing, and they all of them stared al him coldly or were apparently looking over his head. Then he became surly and answered the woman snappishly, while she went on with her brilliant series of glances. Presently she looked out ot (be window aud a masher who was strolling idly by caught the look that she threw at aim and stopped abruptly in his walk and stared back. Apparently he was uot the mau 10 allow anything of that sort to go by him, and he stood looking at her mean ingly a moment before passing on. The little performance brought the broad shouldered escort of the woman to his feet with pale face and shorten U breath. It he could have got at the masher without going four or five hundred teet in a round about wav he would undoubtedly have thrashed him. As it was he looked around for a moment with the full consciousness ' that he was making what Is called “a show” of himself, aud then said 9bortly to the giri: “Come, we’ll get out of this.” “Wby,” she whined, “I haven’t finished my ice yet ?” “Never mind, come along,” he said sharply. “Well,” said the woman in an Injured tons as she cast, her big black eyes on the plate and displayed a tendency’ to whim per, "if you want to insult me in a public place like this you can do so, hut I think you might at least wait until 1 get my coat on or uotil you have paid toe bill.” “Damn the bill!” said the man hotly, “where’s the waiter?” NO OTHER OCCUPATION IN LIFE. lie looked wildly around, hut the waiter was gelling tbo check ma le out at the further end of the room, so be sank back jn his chair while the .woman tried to struggle into her tight little jacket. There is no doubt that the escort would have helped her, or the waiter would have given her a-hand, but both of them were looking in opposite directions, and so a contiguous inasbor arose and performed the office with deftuess and charming ease while the escort sat and glowered at hlu. There was a long wait for tbs change, und finally the pair walked out, the woman oying the men on every side as she strolled along, and the man with his hands rammed Into his pockets, his brows bent, the plcturo of abject misery and misfortune, and yet 1 would wager a hat that uo better fellow nor oharming companion could be found In ttio town than he. Alas tor the woman who flirts. It is curious that women who are naturally considerate and kindly In their treatment of msii should descend to euoh schemes as these, but that they do must have been observ' and by the most obtuse ol ineu. The resson there Is little of what is known aa street flirtation In New York Is ou account of tbo sullied oonvictlau* concerning that particular form of un derbred vice. It is not a pleasant thing 1 1 say, but it is unquestionably true, that many women of entire respectability and good social position in some cities of the I’uion think nothing of a quiet Btreet lliriation. It is a sort of lark with them and nothing more It is vastly different in New York. A woman who flirts in the street here, in ever so slight a degree, is set down at once as of loose and disreputable character, and though there is as much eying and smirking in public places aw elsewhere, it is exceedingly circumspect and cautious, for a woman can never pass a street, flirtation off here as a harmless escapade. 1 suppose New York is the only city in the country that has a recog nized, well-drossed and apparently well-organized band of mashers. I know dozen nnd dozens of men by sight who have no other occupation in life than the pursuit of women. These are the mash ers pure and simple, and they are not, to be confounded with the aotors who are abroad lor their midday walks, the gam blers who parade Broadway, or the young club meD of leisure who cast a critical eve at womankind in general on their way up and down Fifth avenue. The men 1 refer to never pay the slight est attention to anything else but the subjection of the feminine heart. They arise about 11 and repair to Deimonico’s, the Brunswick or some other well-known restaurant, where tbev spend two hours or more over their breakfast. They always sit iu the ladies’ restaurant and they A CONTIGUOUS MASHKK PERFORMED THF OFFICE WITH DKFTNKBS. are as well known to the patrons of the place as the waiters themselves. Asa rule they are not men of prononuoed physical attractions, and they dress quietly and unostentatiously. They spend their money liberally, and their success is entirely due to the sort of n reputation that such men get among women. Every one has some sort of claim to celebrity, i’hls quiet little man with the scar across his forehead and the alert eye which he moves from face to face as he takes his seat in his favorite restaurant was shot in a duel iu Panama two years ago; the sallow and austere masher who sits opposite him figured as the co-respondent in a celebrated divorce suit; another has gained a reputation as a spendthrift by throwing half a million dollars to the dogs in the course of two years, and so on interminably. Every masher has bis story, and the women chatter and talk about them all with ceaseless in rerest. They are an unhappy looking lot of wretches, and perhaps ihe most despicable body of men on the lace of the earth; for who can adnine a man whodoes nothing in life but eat. and drink and whose only ambition is to destroy the happiness of other and abler men who work for their living down town and do not attempt to stab their friends behind their backs. New York could well spare tho dreary crew of prigs aud pups who glory in the title of mashers. Blakely Hall. My Don Jack. From St. Nicholas for March. One of the officers of the post hart ten ora dozen largo greyhounds. Notwith >mndiug its size the greyhound, wbeD alone, is an arrant coward, unless cor nered ; then it becomes a dangerous ati (agonist. .Jack was a coward, too, but he knew by instinct that a single greyhound was even a greater coward than himself; and wuenoneof the hounds would stroll alone by the bouse, it was ludicrous to see th little scamp rush out quivering with ex citement and barking as it he would eat Mr. Greyhound. Invariably the grey hound would turn tail and run. Jack would follow a few steps and then return with a look In his face which plainly said, “Did you ever see such a coward?” Hut one day Jack was taking a walk with me on the parade ground down to ward the lake anil some distance from the house. All at once the whole paok ol hounds, as if urged by one common im milse to get even with him lor the indig ,Wiles be had heaped upon them singly, started in a body tor jack. At first ho did not notice them, but when he did, in stead of coming to me for protection, he turned and struck out lor home in the usual manner, with his tail between bis logs and wlih the usual accompaniment of howls. How he did run! He wan running this time for bis life, and be knew it. Ho looked like a tiny yellow speck as he scampered toward the house The pack of bounds keeping well together gained on him at every jump. Twice I thought they had him and nail turned away my bead; but, no! be doubWd on them and fairly (low in another direction. The bounds could not turn as quickly as he could and fell overone another in their attempts to do so. As Jack reached the terrace In front of the quarters he flew into the house through the open door,safe! The door was closed hv tny wile —who had been wutchlng tho desperate race—just, mb the bounds met in a body over a hoy’s straw hat that was lying upon the grass before the door. In about two seconds there was nothing left of that bet; it whs torn Into rinbons before they found out it wasn’t Jack, after all! Hut trom that time, Jack was not on speaking terms with any ol those hounds. How lie Would liiko It. From tit Wathingtm Star. One of the features of the Wbito House reception yesterday afternoon was the presentation to the I’resident of a book on the election of the President directly by a popular vote. The author, Dr. Thomas Darlington Ingram, who has oorno to Washington to reside temporarily, kept in the background until the crowd had departed. Ti.eti, hook in band, be walked up to the President, made a brief speech explaining its contents and begged the President to accept it. .Mr. Cleveland apparently thought at first that he was at the meroy ot a bold, bad book agent, and looked relieved when he found out his mistake. “It is a subject lam much interested in.” be said, “and I should like to be elected in the manner you mention.” "Then you will look at the book at your leisure?” queried the delighted author. "Icertaluly will.” replied tho Presi dent, as be hugged the little volume under bis left arm. FOOD FOR REFLECTION. Tho Evanescence ol' Political Pow - cr ami Popularity Demonstrated. From th K&w York World . On the fiftieth anniversary of his birth, President Cleveland found himself occu nylng the most prominent position in public Hfe in the United States. Ho is the observed of ail observers, and there is no other in the laud wbe is so deferred to. His reflections on arriving at the present important milestone in his life must be of an agreeable nature, and it will be strange if he can avoid speculat ing on wbat the future may have in store for him. "Why should the spirit of mor tal be proud?” was tho favorite poetic query of his immortal predecessor, Lin coln, whose life wasout off at the sum mit of its career, and echo answers, “Why?” How many are there still liv ing who have been prominently in£ue foreground, and are now soarelv heard of! But a lew years ago the whale ’nntiou waited to see the direction of the pe>n stroke of Rutherford B. Hayes. Then he sat in the White House. Now he pre sides over a chicken farm somewhere iu Northern Ohio, and there Is little more than a gleam of recognition In the mind of the reader when his name appears in a newspaper, which is not often. The tact that he is the only ex-President alive does not save him Irom almost complete oblivion. It is not long since Secretary Robeson was a prominent individual and udispen ser of influence and public dollars. But it is red-letter day lor him when his name is published a* a guest at some big banquet. GoorgeS. Boutwell, for many years an influential member of the House of Repre sentatives, Secretary of the Treasury and a leading man in the nation generally during Grant’s administration, is now quietly practicing law. T. W Ferry, Senator from Michigan, once Acting Vice President ot the United Slates, is operating saw mills. N. P. Banks, elected Speaker of the House ot Representatives iu the most memorable election ever held iu that body, prominent Republican candidate for President in 1800, Major General in the war. Governor of Massachusetts, Is uow a local Unjiod States Marshal. Carl Scburz, Secretary of tue Interior under Hayes, Senator and Major General, is now a retired and rarely mentioned citizen. Hamilton Fish, Governor ami Secretary of State, has entirely passed trom tho po litical stage. Benjamin H. Bristow, Secretary of the in usury, prominent Republican candi date for the Presidency, is unostenta tiously practicing law. ltoscoe Conkllug, than whom the Senate once possessed no more distinguished member, is accumulating a lortune at the bar. Edwards Pierrepont. Attorney General, Minister to England, is now a lawyer in private practice. Benjamin H. Brewster, Attorney Gene ral, is similarly employed. Alption-m I'aft, Attorney General, Sec retary ot War, has retired generally from public notice. Hugh McCulloch, the distinguished Secretary of the Treasury of the Johnson period, is engaged In private business. Samuel ,J. Kirkwood, Senator. Secre tary of the Interior, has passed out ot the public mind. Elihu B. Wasbburne. Representative, “Watchdog of tlie Treasury,” beorotnrv of Stats, Minister to France, pioposi/d Republican candidate lor President, is w titling away the lime writing maguziue articles. Richard W. Thompson, Congressman, Secretary of the Navy, ts now an Ameri can figurehead for He Lessepa. Attorney General Williams has dropped wholly beneath the surface. W. W. Belknap, Secretary ot War, has similarly disappeared. Gen. It. C. Scbenck, Congressman, Major General, Minister to England, leads a ipiiet and retired existence. J. A. Creswell, Postmaster General, Congressman, is now rarelv neard of. William Windom, Senator, Secretary ol the Treasury, has passed out of public notice. William E. Chandler, Congressman, Secretary of the Navy, 'and active politi cal manager, has been relegated to a quiet life. William A. Wheoler, Coneressmtui, Vice President, Is living in retirement. Hannibal Hamlin, ltepresentati ve, Sen ator, Governor, Vice President under Lincoln, is out of public life. James M. Astiloy, Congressman and prominent Abolition Republican,has been a longtime out of office. John B. Henderson, Senator, ts practic ing law in St. Louis. Senators Ross and Pomeroy, of Kansas, are equally removed Irom the public gaze. Columbus Holano, Secretary of the In terior, has been a private citizen tor years. J. Warren Keifer, Speaker of the House of Representatives, has been wholly re tired, and is not now even considered eligible for tho delivery ot a address. Ignatius Donnelly. Senators Thurman and McDonald, Gov. lloadly and many o'h> rs will occur, upon calling upon the memory, as instances of merf now living who have withdrawn from public life. Still another retired statesman, who need not be commented on, is Jefl'jraon Davis. Perhaps the only exception to tho list of retired public men. In the matter of power and influence, la Simon Csmuron. He appears to manage things from his private residence about as well as he did from the Senate or the War Department. Thus do |iower and position, like rlohes, have wings. Some of these retirements represent honorable defeat, some volun tary decisions, some wrecked ambition merely, and some are rebukes for corrup tion. But they all serve to show the un certainty of political careers and the readiness with which men are forgotten in this fast-moving country, A Peculiar Young Man. WaeMngfon Letter to the Hinton Traveller. The dashing son of a distinguished Southern Senator is among tho missing. Having left a cloud of debts behind bun which will keep his memory green for sonic tune at least in the minds of Ins numerous Washington creditors. IBs greatest exploit was at the expense of a famous st. I .mils nolle who lias been dazzling tho ejesof society hero. One day tho young man met the belle on tho street and playfully grabbed her pocket-book. She didn’t mind Bus much, but when he opened it and look out a |IO note she began to wonder whulhcr It was all a joke or not. She ordered him to return it at once, but to lior surprise the Scnatori 1 hopeful replied that he would see her later. Perhaps he will, hut he hasn’t yet. The tel lew utter securing the money, called upon a young lady, who was a friend of the St. Isons holle, and invited hor out to dine with him. Not knowing, perhaps, the preceding fads, she accepted, and find u good dinner, shortly after this episode the town began to grow rather sultry for the young man, and he paukod up his baggage and left. He hasn’t shown his heail here since, and the chuueos are that he will steer clear ol this town tor some time to come. (PPICK *lO A TKAF.I j 3 CENTS A COPY.) HOW “BEN HIT It” WAS WHITTEN. Gen. Lew Wallace Confesses Its De scription was Based on Boohs. Gen. Lew Wallace is a man of fine presence, with a military bearing from which the usual stillness of tho drill has uover been able to obliterate the natural grace. His hair is very slightly gray, and a lock of it falls carelessly on a mas sive forehead, which shelves slightly over eyes large, black, and seeming to see into the very centre of things. His pointed board and heavy mustache are peculiarly adapted to his style or face, with its cloar-cut nose, hair Grecian andebalf Roman. W. A CrotTutt talked with him in Washington the other day, and tells in the Post, all about it. In reply to i question as to whether he had named his new bo k vet, be replied: “Ot course not. The book will name iisett when completed. W e give the name to the book, not. the book to the name, One would never think of naming a baby beforo its birth, for if ho gave it a boy’s name It might lie born a girl, you know, and vice versa.” ••Speaking of your book,” said Croffutt, “had you eve: visited the Holy Land be fore you wrote 'Ben Hur?’ ” “No; I never saw Syria till after tbo book w as completed.” * “Why. how could you write such a book with nothing lor a foundation? 1 should think you would make endless ms tukea.” ■ “1 did have a foundation, and a pretty sure one, too,” the General replied. “A variety of books, a eooU map, a knowledge cl mathematics, and a vivid Imagination were tolerably good stock In trade, to my Blinking. How could 1 make mis. takes?” “But I do not see how you oould draw 6ucb realistic pictures of a country you knew nothing about,” persisted the news man. “I did know something about it,” said he. “1 knew all about It. I knew fat more concerning it, In faot, than if I had been tbero to see for myself. I made tho travelers travel for me, which Is tarlo-s fatiguing than to travel for one’s self. I read books of travel, manners, and oils, toms. 1 studied the history of the noun try and the bible history of Christ, also the geography of the country. 1 had a large map before me, hanging always on the wall where I could see it, upon which 1 ooubl measure distances, settle relative positions and compute the difference iu time. With a little knowledge of as tronomy thrown in there was no possi bility ol a mistake. “Then I talked with friends who haa been there; got them to tell me about the birds, lUelr plumage and their songs; about tho flowers and trees, and desorlbo tile gardens and residences. They told me of the Syrian sky, its color and changes; tho rain and dew; the climate uud Its etluct. You sec 1 was pretty thoroughly posted. “Such knowledge is more to be depend ed on, too, than an actual visit. If 1 bad, visited tne country to gather data I would have relied largely on my memory, and I am notahove the human habit of for getting. Then, too 1 would have seen so much In a limited tune that there would be (lunger of the whole becoming just a confused junible, a conglomeration of tacts bard to separate when 1 came to use thorn. “As it was, I bad the books and map before me, and when l forgot anything f could reiresh my memory without leaving my chair from a store of knowledge all assorted and systematized. Or I could make an evening call on some of my friends, and ll one had forgotten tbethiug l wanted to know, another was sure to, remember it. “Then, alter the whole was completed, l went to Syria to view the original of my picture and make any changes 1 found necessary, and there were none to make,” “The pretty story is not true, then,” said the correspondent, “that you bexan the book to prove the truth of Infidelity, if you will allow the paradox, and that your researches for that purpose were the means of converting you?” “No, no; certainly not,” said he, with considerable warmth. “That story em anated Irom the fertile brain of some cor respondent who was hard up for an item, and 1 cun forgive hliu if lie got paid for the item and used the money judiciously; but 1 am eyaged most industriously at present dodging tho correspondents.” BALM FOB BALD HEADS. Muck from a Kentucky Marsh That AVtil Make Hair Grow. The Galveston (Tex.) News prints the following dispatch: The quiet town ofi Princeton, Ivy., Is in a wild state of ex citement over the discovery of a muck from a marshy flat that restores hair to the baldest of baldheads. About three miles from Princeton, on tlie Wilson warehouse road, in a bend of tho Stevens creek, is a low, marshy flat, about an acre in size. The earth is of a greenish color, and no weed or grass ot any Kind was ever known to grow in it, and during the dryest season is always wet. Its wonderful power was discovered in a very comical manner. Old Uncle Peter Black, a native of the Donaldson district, came to town last August, eleotion day, and according to his habit with jovial friends, drank too much red whisky. Lute ihut.evening, alter bavin* Imbibed as much blue ruin as he could navigate with, be saddled his old gray mule and attempted to wend his way home. When the rider and old mule came to the creek, either by tlie obstinacy ot the mule or by some mystic hand, tne old animal went into the marsh and split Uncle Pete. The soft, damp earth proved a to the bald, aching head of the old man, and the excitement of the day was soon forgotten in a dreamless sleep, from wnteb he was awakened next morning by the heat of the sun, to And half of his head and left side covered with mud. About two weeks after the acci dent Uncle i’elo round that all that part of bis body that bad beeu covered with mud was covered with a tine growth of* young hair. * bt. Valentine’s day became to town and showed to a nuraoer of our most proaiiuent men a luxuriant growth of huir three and a half inches in length, covering the left side and half of his bead. At first IBs story was laughed at, but since a bald head is a source of great an noyance to the owner, also a very lumi nous object at church and prayer-meet ings. a tew that were sentdtive on the loss of hair began to view it in a different iigbt. For the past two weeks about twenty are wearing skull caps, inlaid with this muck. Yesterday several took ofl tueir caps, and, to their great joy and huppluess, their heads were oovereil with a fine growth of young hair, Out unfortu nutoly It was as red as beet. Tbejiwneror the marsh has had it In dosed by a high plank fence, aod sella the muck at *2 a pound, and the demand Is bcooiniug so great tUat he oau scarcely fill all the orders. It Is predicted that gray will be a lead ing odor during the spring aiu^ummsr.