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THE 3 WASHINGTON GAZETTE. vot:. xx. BISMARCK AID WIFE. \ How the<ol<3 Statesman Worshipped Hie Johanna. [Tempi** Bir.J A change was shortly to come over *the whole life and character of the fu ture priutie ami chancellor. One of ’the neighbors, with Whom lie lived ton tertwa of Intimacy*, was Mon von Hlacirenbuig.amJ in his house he made tho acquaintance of Johanna von Pul kammer, which during a journey which tnhy mado in company with their common friends, ripened to a deep and lasting attention. Tho young lady’s parents were very quiet and deeply religious persons, and when (he “mad Lord of Dniephot” wrote to ask their daughter's hand, ami sho con fessed that she hud given hint berhearl their cousternallon was great. Tlie father coutessed tlial “he felt as if he , had been struck on the head with an axe," but he did no teol justified in op jmsing the wishes of the young people. Xhe mother was more obdurate, and it was only when Bismarck appeared to plead his own cause that site grained her consent. But having yielded, she dill so frankly ami with out, recrve. Shu welcomed lief fu ture son-in-law, uot only toiler home but to her heart, and he proved him self thoroughly whirlhv of her eontl- , deneq, lie became a rel“mcmber ot tbu family, ami the first serkiutdiffer ence which lie had with the parents of his wife was also tho lust. Tho marriage was celebrated on the 2**t 1> July, ltd 7. To uudcrslaud the effect which this union had on the whole cliarac ■ter of tlie future statesman it is neecs to remember several thing*, lie ■;5: limeilt i-j,l \dl-gu-tod with li'c- He had in -i ex.r— --• 1i ■ V, 11 • -f.. Maw, jjiiy®' [ST.-liadeil 11,a! the ■,[' is vainly. While yonng in in mind and itiini\ , un ►aisßp I ha! •—•••! i.llu-u 11 :.i\ Kliu could linil no idea, no aim and lo ambition that fired and satisfied ilia imagination. With religion in in the true sense of the word lie had never been brought into contact until lie wooed her in his bride. In his youth two spiritual influences had been predominant in Prussia—the de ism of Voltarie, slightly modified by that of Lessing, and the mysticism of the coinan£lcschool. From the latter tendency his father's house had been almost cowplatefy free, and what he saw fit in later years was not calcu lated to atttact the keen-eyed, hard headed, open-hearted youth. hut in his wife and her family he was brought face to face with anew power. Here were men and woiueu, leading not only blameless, hut active and useful lives, who had as strong a hold on the external reality of tlie world as any one, and who yet were net oi this world, hut constantly felt they were in the presence of a judge, a fattier and a friend. In such a con viction lie too, might find a motive and an aim. Like ■Goethe he ba(} sought consolation and strength in the ethics of Spinoza, but, unlike the great poet, he hau not succeeded In finding them there. The thought of a personal loyalty to a personal god, on the other hand, appealed to tire deepest impulse of his nature; and the home into which he, the wild wan derer, hid been received with hesita tion at first, it is true, hut then in per fect affection and confidence, was so cairn and qniettbat it seemed as if the pence ihat passeth understanding blooded over it; indeed, it did. Bismarck became deeply imbued with his wife’s religious convic tions, and lie found in them the motive .power that had hitherto been wanting in his life. This was the turning point; from henceforth he lie had a purpose that, filled and satis* fled dis whole <fo his duty before a living God. .Doubtless, like all of us he has fallen short of his ideal, and still more undoubtedly, in tt.e opinion ot most, he has at times mistaken his dnty; but alway there has been a power with him which enabled him to despise the praise of men and to appeal to a higher stand ard than the phrase of the fashion of the hour. The time now had come when the man wlisse youth had been so wild and wayward was called to take s se rious part in the active, political life oT the ago. But before glancing at the work as it was given him lo tln, and the way in Which it was done, f! it may bo will to . translate a few passages from his letters, which show ifn; spirit in which it was under taken. In July, 1851, lie wrote front Frankfort to his wife : “The day before yesterday I dined with—-at Wiesbaden, and viewed scenes of my former (tolly with sadness and raiher premature wisdom. Mav it please (lod to fill with his own clear, strong wine the vessel front which lli champagne of yoilifi then uselessly frothed away,leaving nothing but fiat dregs behind. Where, I wonder, aro and Miss .ami what maybe their lot? Him many with whom I then flirted, drank ami played, are now in their graves, ami through how many phases my whole conception of life Iras passed in these fourteen years, each of which I thought purfectlv true While it IS'ied; how much that then appeared great now seems small to me; how much venerable that ldlion mocked? What new luatago may have budded, unfolded, Withered ami tallen away from our inner being be fore another fourteen years have passed and 13t*5 lias come, if we Jive to see if! I cannot understand how u man who reflects upon himself and who ncither kitbws God nor desires to know him— I rahnftt understand iiow such a man eu.i endure a Lite so burdened with euuiii and self-con icmpt, I cannot tod how I used to bear it, if I again obliged to live as f nitre did, without God, without you and (be children.-1 really ilo not see why I sbobtd not cast this life aside like a dirty shirt. Yet this is the life that most of My dcffiiaiStances live. When Igo thi'ongh them sing ly and ask myself what rea‘*6lV So-itM so may have for living oti', fci‘ troubles and vexation, for in’tVigkii’iVgf and spying arouml, I can find no ali [swer. l)o not 'conclude from ibis scflbme Ilia IT (mi in a black mood oil llie contrary, I feel as we df> when looking at the yellowing leaves on * briglit September day—well and cheerful, but touched with sadness;- with homesickness, with a longih for forest, lake and moorland, for you and the children, all blended with the sunset and Beethoven.” OIVK .WOMAN A KAIR SHOW. By what principle of justice is it that women in* many of our cities get only two-thirds as much pay as men, and in many cases only half? Here is giganlio injustice—that for work equally well, if not better done, woman receives far less compensation than man. Start with the National Government. Women clerks in Wash ington get S9OO for doing that for which men receive SI,BOO. The wheel of oppression is rolling over tlie necks of thousands of women who are at this moment in despair about what they are to do. Many oi the largest mercantile establishments of our cities are accessory to these abom inations, and from their large estab lishments there are scores of souls being pitched off into death, and thair employers know It. Is there a God? Will Ilure be a judgment ? I tell you if God rises up to redress women's wrongs many of our large establish ments will be swallowed up quicker than a South American earthquake ever took down a city. God will catch these oppras-ors he! ween t ha two mill-stones of his wrath and grind them to powder! Why is it that a female principal in a school only gets sß2sfordoing work for which a male principal gets sl,- CSO? 1 hear fcom all. this land the wail of womanhood. Man lias noth ing to answer to that wail hut flat, tcries. He says she is an angel. She is not; she knows she is not. She is a human being whoget3 hungry when she has no food, and cold when she has no tire. Give her no flatteries; give her justice!—Talmage. DeKalb News: P. Sanders, the vet eran bloekader of Banks county, paid Chamblee a short visit Thursday night, returning home after an ah senecs of twenty-one days. He has been attending the United States Court. He stopped while in Atlanta with the honorable jailer of Fulton county. He is said to-be nearly 80years old and has been before the courts twenty limes, more or lets. He says Mr. Speer is ungrateful, and don’t remember his past favors. When he was a candidate for Congress his corn juioe was used freely lo assist him. WASHINGTON, GA„ FRIDAY", JUNE 19, 1885. DYIWO W**Ot7T CJOHPLAINT, A Pitiful piotUtP of po-rrtv ta aTsusuisnt Saras*. lUtWJI World.) lirMMi idge Street is not a fas cinating sy*#*, It doesn’t blossom like a rose. A six slwvv caravansa ry rises out of h*V dliHc.lv of a street, and the visitor wfrtf to looking for Mrs Frank understands that he has to climb to tiie top of it. for there is no elevators at No. 143 Kldrigo street. So lie takes out* glauce at the.street itself,-with-its long line of disabled vehicles ami ash barrels, and scream ing troops of Arab children who dart about and light like sparrowg and tlien be plunges inty No. 143. Thd hallways are dark uml noisome. Tho wal a arc frescoed bore and thir ivith the cartoons of the street hoys. A black streak tells how high their dir ty hands can reach. There is one of them mixing mortar ivitli a broken parasol at the foot of the stair*. The smell is secutic ami greasy. An oil lUiTat-eis on everything, anil there, art: suggestions of a cellar and cooking cabbage aud codfish ami stale oniou running in little eddies of their >ivn round ids head as lie puts his hand on the balustrade, and then with drawing it wipes it oflV Five flights, cacli one greasier and darker than the other, in spite of the cracked skylight through which two or three tlirlv rays come, and he be gins to feel it in his knees before he reaches tho top. But thore is a con fused hum of litv all round him, Doors open and shut, frowsy heads look out suspiciously and disappear. Strange gusts ot music from aucor deons and asperating sounds from suincboody who may bo beating bis wife, and the unceasing overtones of sick children in uncomfortable rooms and pet silent mothers in dishabille, ami fathers ouCpf work. We?), It’s tlie regular palpitating biif'ow that wo call a tenement house. Wat's 'all. Away up jib two room’s hack live—wo have to say she lives,there are no other words- Mrs. Frank. Some body had told a brief story of her destitution in tho World, and the simple story brought a small remittance from a sympathiz ing friend. A knock on the door brought a weak invitation to “Come in.” The visitor felt a moment for the knob and then opened the door. A narrow apartment kitchen recep tion-room, bed room in one, almost destitute of furniture, but scrupu lousby clean. A tireless stove, that seemed to have been cold a long while. A chair or two, and there on the bed a sick woman with wan eyes, a child on her breast. She shrank a little at the intrusion of a stranger. Her face is Intelligent anil soft’ but is marked with the lines of care and trouble and pain. Puerperal fever and poverty was what the physician reported. A pitiless combination that. The visitor drew a cliairup to tiie bed and sat down. A woman’s deli cate sense that her destitution was somehow. on exhibition, gave slight flush. Yet tier a it was quite true, as Ihe paper had staled, that she was very poor, She l timed her head a little for a moment and the thin coverlet over her heaved once or twice. As she did so the tine light brown hair billowed over the pillor. ‘‘Very poor,” site repealed, “but wedid not expect to become objects of charily.” There were two little girls in the room ; one may have, been three, the other ten. The eldest stood at the bedside and stared vacantly at the vis-- itor. The other played with a piece of string fastened to the leg of the stove. “Ten days I have been in bed,” she said, “helpless, and my poor husband has been looking for work. He is a tailor, but oh, ho is deaf and dumb and it is hard for him to make him believe. When he had work he got along very nicely. I helped him all Icouldjaml we mades7 and sßawdftk. That kept us comfortably. But when I got sick lie lost his work. She stopped a moment. The little girl looked from her mother’s face into that of the visitor with something like an expectantawe. Her little im agination was investing him with some kind of power and succor. Then she woman went on with her story. Her husband was industrious. They had struggled along happily enough until the misfortune oarne. She put her hand outside the bed-clothes. Her long, while fingers marked the nec- jiie pricks of her industry. She had told her story. Not altogether with her rnguth—some of it came inarti culately. The long solitary days with hungry..children agd her fever, only fo see jier tired husband come back •t night ami make his eloquently uiute signsjof failure ,and sit down so disconsoiale.at the window where she oould not see Ids distress. Bhe could not and would not toll of the weari ness of those long days, She counted t|)o hours on the pulses of life that came th)biigh her window. The bells rang, voices of tlie schoool chil dren came lip to her. The one rav of sunlight traveled across tlie room and she saw it die out day after day with (lie same pal id |u>pelessuoss over there on theoak waiuscolting, and the girls came to the bedside and asked when papa would come home aud it lie would bring their supper, and then, weak as @he was, she turned over, so as not to show them her distress, But alio did not complain even to tlie visitor. Inhere was no plaint in her weak voice. There was no de spair in Iter long-brown eyes. But sho was awfully tired. The visitor 101 l his little sum of money sent to the World. lie .kissed tlie little girl and hurried away down the dark stairs. When he got to the organ grinder ws playing “The Old Ken tucky Home,” i-n.l a groupeof Arab iij niphs were going it liands albrouml tothemerry sound:, Nym Ciuxkee. HF-H Com (Clara liollfl, in Clndlllnsti Knuulrt*.) Just the fuiniiost tiling that Iki hap pened among our fashionable girls foe a decade, surely, was at one of tho several fashionable bathing establish ments which are patronized now by wealth and lel.diye./i'ltis Is the time for learning to slt imitpo, If one means to astonish the Uu(c|i gaAii's at New Fort .And Long jHrspch this, summer. Judging by she nnigbe? Of pupils in these schools of swimming, tlVeto will •fetflir e of feminine expertness itf (lie surly brine than ever before. Hut t know of one girl who has relinquished all ambition in that line, ami it is about bur that I set out to write. She wan a stranger in town until a few months ago, when .she was intro duced into our best society by a faul tily whoso backing is all-powerful. She was quite pretty and a heap sty lish, but site had a qtiecrly limpcring gait, as though one of her feet was somehow Incapable. And yet she danced with niraberlcss anil grace, and roile on horseback, played law tennis, and never alluded ever so re motely to any pedal ilisablmont. Well, I was in tlie natatorium when she was one of a party of girls. We all wore stockings, belted blouses, anil loose trousers, with natty oil-skin caps drawn sightly over onr heads to save the hair from wetting. “I expect to make an cxcecdcntly fine swimmer,” said tills giilily crea ture to me in a tone of quiet but per fect confidence. •‘Anil why are you so spire of it?” I ventured to ask. “Oh, I (lout exactly know,” she murmured, “eqcept that I feel that I shall he more buoyant in the water than most of you. I have never trim) it, but you shall sec lir.w 1 distance you in the art of swimming.” Well, tiie teacher.ranged us in a row and commanded us to plunge from brink of the artificial pond into the water. The depth was not up to tho chin of tlie shortest pupil,as ho ex ptaincil, and so there was no danger. Hf we did not float —as most of uy wouldn't, bciug novices—all wc had tcilo was to stand on our feet, and our heads would come above the sur face, “One, two, three—dive!” lie com manded. Thirteen heads splashed above the water, twenty-gig feet flickered in the air for an instant, anil then tho basin became a troubled pool indeed, for everybody scrambled to an upright posture save one. Twelve heads ap peared above the water, and in their midst one leg extended in the air.. Tlicgiri l to whom it belonged was struggllngand splashing underneath. Tlie professor saw that something cu rious was the matter. lie leaped in and brought her to tho platform. She was tho girl Who had bragged to me ot her natural ability to become a swimmer. The reason at once of her high expectation anil her low failure was exposed, The leg with which we had seen her habitually limp was cork. TEE POOR AND THE! RICH. Tho conflict between capital and labor is as old as history itself and, in all probability will continuo indefinitely. The man who spends all lie earns as lie goes along does not become a capitalist; the man who de nies himself of present gratification in order that he may have something laid by for the future docs. It nat urally comes to pass that the man whs has eaten liis cake in a little while become envious of the man who stilt has his cake loft and wants tho latter to divide. . While no amount of moralizing r argument will allay tiiis antagonism, which is imbedded in tho very nature of humanity, it is well at times to look closely at tlie relative positions occu pied by th two opposing forces as compared wi.li former periods still within the memory of people of ad vanced years. It is an ojd cry that the poor are growing poorer and tiie rich richer. Is it true? What pro port ion qf the rich men of this city in herited their wealth and have increas ed it? What proportion of the For tunes of to-dav will bo perpetuated and increased by tlie descendants cf their present possessors? a careful investigntion into these features of tho increase and stability of wealth of tiiis comparatively conservative city is in tlie hands ot those who ac cumulated il thcraselvos, 'and it is finite likely that the most of it will be scattered to ilie winds by tho next generation. On the contrary, the gray-liaired liiatl of itf-day knows that tlie workingmen of the present live in better houses, better furnished and that they aie fed and clothed bsftcr by long odils than tlie working men of half a century ago. Anollior test could bo offered of the relative p’ogititm of dubor anil capital now and fiftjy yeans ago which would be worth considering. Money ifhd labor have over been marketable commodities anil the demand regu lates the price of both. Tho rate of interest upon the one and tho price which the other will command give a fair test of tlie relative earning power of each. When was the rale of interest over as law as at present ? When was there over as much money seeking profitable investment as now. When tho legal rate of interest has not varied much in titty years, the actual rate lias fallen from ten or twelve per cent, to from three to (four per emit. On tho contrary, how many farm laborers work for tlie eight and ten dollars a month and their board which were the ruling wages fifty years ago? Tho actual rate of wages paid by all branches of business lias advanced very ma terially in that time anil it cannot be shown that their purchasing power has declined. Tlie men who agitate for a division of present accumulations of capital and the Inauguration of a commun istic era keep these very pertinent facts entirely out of sight. But the rnen to whom they appeal witli their windy exhortations to destroy tlie present order of things cannot afford to ignore them. The truth of it is that tho wealthy men of the present generation in this country began life poor and tho wealthy men of the of the next generation will* ba ro erulled tronrr tlie ranks of tlie "bovs whose parents are poor now. And the average condition of the working man of to-day is beyoild compare in advance of what it lias been at any former period.—Philadelphia Times. It is said that ex-Govcrnor Ilale ot New llampßliirc, who failod a lew days ago for something less than sl,- 000,000, paid $25,000 for tlie office of Governor tlie first lime he was elected aud $30,000 the second time. The sal ary it only SI,OOO per annum, and the salary generally goes to the Govern or’s private secretary. Mr. Jlale paid pretty high for tho honor of being Governor of the old “granite” Slate for two yiars, and perhaps (malicious ly asserted that when he was required to sign some important rail road bibs which had passed the Leg islature, lie caked a conference ot those who were interested in them and mado a statement of the amount that ho had paid out to get the Gov ernorship, anil that these railroad men thought that it was unjust that he should have been bled so freely. Did they not make iiim feel that lie had spent his money wisely ? NO. 25 THE! VANITY OF HEN. Bight Oat of Every Tsn Running Around With Hlrrora In Their Pocket*. (From the Sen Prancfeco Deily Aite.) “Who buys them ?” asked a report er in a Kearney street shop pointiinr to a lot of tiny pocket mir rors, witli nail cleaners, tooth-pick and comb ail complete, “I suppose you think tho ladies aro our best customers,” said the notion man, “but it is not so. Men, sir—vam men—are the piokers-up of these un considered trifles.” “Pretty men ?” inquired tlie report er. Tho salesman grinned. “It don’t matter much how they look,” lie said, “whether they are apes or A polios; they want a pocket mirror all the same They retire every houror so to a secret place to admire themselves. Talk of the vanity of woman! It pales, sir, it fades away into insignificance by comparison with tho admiration tho majority of men have for their own mugs.” “Could you mention—not for pub lication, of course, but for individual satisfaction—tho names of some df these purchasers ?” Tho notion man looked grave. “I could not give away tho secrets of my prison liotise,” ho said solemnly. “I 'n> Tar B’ust a nowspaper man, and in the present regard I hold tlie conti donoo these gentleman ,havo reposed in me as sacred. Why, there afe soma half a dozen who entemUifug a great respect for my critical judgment 01 physical beauty, step in hero every day to enquire how they are looking. Then it is, ‘Am I palo to-day, Jim V or, ‘Do you think my color Is too high, Jim ?’ or, ‘That left eyo brow, is growing a triflo heavy; don’t you think I’d bettor have it trimmed otf a bit?’ If I say your color is too high my friend is off to the barber’s for a a dab of powder—but this is a dead se cret—wc accomodate him in tin’s shop. If ho is too pale wo tinge him up. It’s wonderful postively wonderful. Now the ugliest men are the toughestJ If there is the slightest blemish in dl pocket mirror they won’t lake it, bfl cause, forsooth, it may not faithfulll reproduce their bright, pearl beauty^ “But there arc different degrees of vanity among those male boauties, are there not ?” “No, sir; there is but ono degree and that is the superlative, but there are different degrees of candor. Some are modest and will declare that their moustaches or beards are always get* ting tangled. Now, there’s a good looking blonde railroad agent on Montgomery street who bought a six by-four mirror from me the other day, which lie keeps in his breast pocket. He is a glutton about his personal beauty, lie is; but a real estate man, a fair stout young person, whose of fice is near him, lias found out that lie lias this glass and begs the loan of it a dozen tunes a day.” “Then, as a matter of fact, you have more customers among gentlemen for those pretty little articles than among the other sex?” “Five to one, sir; the percentage of those who carry pocket-mirrors is small among ladies, but eight out of every dozen men have ono stowed away in Hie vest pockot. “fyl ly,” con tinued tlie notion mail, “some big‘ smirking fellows—business men— have come in here and asked mo if I could teach them how to blush. Just think of it. Follows in the forties, sir, who have not known a blush for twenty years. Believe it would ho becoming to them it they could flush, up like a moss roso when a girl glan ces at them. The ancient rounder got hold eftlic secret and made all the rest hopping mad to learn it Yon won’t give it away ? Well, when lie wanted to blush he’d jab a pin iuto his leg and keep his mouth shut.” “What did the mouth have to do with it?” “Because the pin would make him foci like swearing and keeping back the the effort that suf fused lus cheek. That’s tlie true bus iness, B’hclp mo. Do you want to look at any nice pocket-combs to-day No. Then excuu me, for here’s a dude that docs,” and tlie philosopher re sumed his professional air and advan ced on the customer with interlaced fingers and a captivating smile. Walker Blaine, the eldest son of his father, is said lo bo the most depressed member of the Blaine family over Cleveland's election.