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2 FORTUNES IN RARE WINES SOME WELL-FILLED CELLARS IN NEW YORK CITY. Men Who Will Offer a Fabulous Price for a Famous Wine—Sketches of New Yorkers Who Take Pride in Their Cellars—Old Wine in New Bottles. New York, May 21. —Every reader of fiction has dwelt with delight upon those passages in his favorite works where the jolly host orders up from his dungeon cellar a dusty, cobweb-oovered bottle, which he clasps lovingly before he carefully draws the cork. And his mouth is sure to feel dry and a longing thrill his frame when the limpid liquid gurgles melodiously into the delicate glass, while the host descants upon its virtues and relates how that identical wine was laid away by that grim-looking warrior ancestor whose ixirtrait adorns the east side of the picture gallery. Every one has felt a sad regret that not one of liis own friends has such a cellar or such a story to tell. But the fact is that one need not goto the shores of “Merry England' 1 nor glide gently down the beautiful Rhine in order to find hosts who are the fortunate possessors of rich wines, which they dispense with prodi gal hospitality. Right here in our own great city they can lie found, and in plenty, too. I learned this on; day last week when Mr. John Jai-ob Astor walked into the wareroomsof a whole sale wine merchant down town who ulso happens to be a friend of mine. “Sir. ," said Mr. Astor, “I under stand that some of the Bloodgcxxl Madeiras are on the market. If any can lie obtained I would like them. I am willing to pay a good price for any that are authentic.” “I doubt that they can be had at any price, returned the merchant. “Jim Husted or some of those other collectors would grub at them as quick as a wiqk if they lmd an opportunity." “Well, see what you can do,” returned the millionaire, “and remember that the price is no object so long as I get the gen uine article.” With that Mr. Astor went away. Mine host his own butler. “He will never in the world got then;.” said my friend, turning to ine. “Why i what are they?" I inquired, never having heard of these evidently famous wines. “What! never heard of the Bloodgood Madeiras!” cried my friend in astonishment, “and you pretend to know something about New Yorkers!” L I humbly admitted my ignorance, and he Vank hack in his easy chair as he reluted Mat follows: “The Bhxxigood Madeiras are so called because they come from the stock of a wine djfeler who was famous ns an importer of Jfcdeira wines half a century ago. lie had Avery large bus’ness and catered to the best Bodies. Business was done in mi old- B-hioned way then, and every family of any standing imported its own Madeira. If rMr. John Jacob Astor or Mr. tloelet or any of the other big men of that, day want’d any Madeira he would go to Bhxxtgood and ■ay: “ ‘Order one cask of old Mndeira for me. 1 “Then Bhxxlgrxxl would send out an order something like this: “‘Messrs. : Scndto John Jacob Astor, in my care, one cask Madeira, vin tage—.’ : “In that way Mr. Astor would be sure to get his wine direct from the grower or ex porter in Madeira, and the wiue would come to New York marked witli his name. L was clerk in a wine house of a similar kind fifty years ago, and I remember very well when some of the rich people would come down and order their pipes or quarters. Those were the names they usually called the casks, which indicate! their size. Think of a dealer going to the trouble of order ing a quarter of a cask of wine from Madeira for a customer! But, of course, he alwnys had a lot of such orders ready when the vessel sailed, besides what he need ed himself. .“When old Blrxxlgooil died he left a large quantity of fine Madeira, which was bought up by his old customers. Occasionally some small quantity of this will get on the mar ket, and then there is a mighty big scram ble for it, I can tell you. Money is no ob ject to some of our men, and Jim Husted or Herman Oelrichs or half a dozen other prominent men that I can name, would raise each other blind for a long time before any one would call. If you have never tasted a Bloodgood Madeira then you don’t know what a good Madeira wine is.” “Madeira was evidently the favorite wine some years ago,” ] remarked. “It is not now. certainly.” . “No,” it is not,”'he continued. “Claret and champagne are all the go now; and the quantity of stuff that is drunk in the name of champagne is enough to poison a colony of goats.” “Fifty years ago this was not so. Then everv family of consequence had its supply of Madeira and a decanter of that wine could always be found upon the sideboard. As good Madeira eame to this country as went to any other in the world. The Ameri can sailing vessels took out lionrds and staves to Madeira and brought back the wine in return. “But one year a peculiar pestilence swept over the Island of Madeira and killed all the vines. After that it liecamo im|>oesible to do more than supply the wealthy buyers in Europe and the American trade ceased. Every one who could afford it laid in a quantity, but it took a long time for the news of the pestilence to reach here and a long time for the orders to get back to Ma deira, so no one was enabled to secure a very large amount. “An attempt was made to substitute sherry for Madeira, but the people who had been drinking the lx*st old Madeira were not going to put up with new sherry and the trial was unsuccessful.” “Is there much of that old wine hanging around these diggings'” I inquired. “Yes, there is considcrrble of it in the wine cellars of some of our old families. I can mention the names of a number of prominent jxxiple who have inherited and carefully added to this old stock In fact, 1 may say that this old Madeira has given origin to many well-stocked wine cellars in New York. People who would never have thought of buying more than enough wine to suince for their present nets Is ha ve been temp tod, through having this old wine as a nucleus, t* buy wheuever a good opportu nity presents itself. “It is wonderful how jealous these jxxiple are of this old wine. They hoard it as misers do gold. You cannot buy it for its weight in bullion, 1 verily believe, and the only chance wo dealers have is who* some family die* out and the estate has to be di vided. Then the wineusually has to be sold in ordi r t iptl • >tat<*. but even it is rarely that we can get very much of it. Either some of the heirs bid it in or some private collector, glad of tho opportunity to increase his stock, rans up the price be} ond all competition on our p.u u I remember one instance in my s to secure a stock of this wine. A young man of good family, but whose name I can not reveal, came to me some time ago and said that he hail inherited some flue old wines which he w ould like to sell. I knew him by reputation. He was married and lived in Fifth avenue. He had recently come into a large fortune by the death of lirx father and was joint heir with his mother ar.d sister. 1 went up and looked at the col lection. or rather his share of it, and 1 will never forget the appearance of grief and indignation with which the two ladies met lus announcement of his intention to sell. They not only absolutely refused to part with their portions, but would not even listen to my suggestion to have it examined for the purpose of seeing whether it needed rebottling." Old wine in new bottles. “Do you mean to say that you rebottlo old wine! I thought it was considered sacrilege to disturb it in any way, even in pouring it into the glasses, before it is dis posed of.” “So it is,” he replied, “but we don’t dis turb it. We handle it as carefully as a young mother does her first born. We would not shake the contents of a bottle of good wine for anything you can name. But it is frequently necessary to look after wine that Ims been put away in the American fashion and allowed to remain undisturbed for a long time. If it is not done, when the owners want to use the wine they will find it unfit to drink. “Americans do not lay away their wines as tile English and nearly all other nation alities do. Tlic latter place the bottles on their sides. Of course, the longer they re * main in that position the heavier the sedi ment that forms on the side nearest the groijnd. That makes it necessary to hand ole it very carefully, and if it should be shaken the sediment would become stirred in the trine and spoil it. “To avoid this danger some enterprising American suggested that the bottles be stood up, and that has ever since been the custom here. “But now an unforseen danger has arisen. The average cork will last about twelve years. Then it begins to rot. Por tions of the cork fall into the wine from the upright position of the bottle, and in a short time the wine is spoiled. This has brought into tx’iug a branch of our business which is peculiar, “When the corks in the bottles begin to rot new corks must be put in. This is a delicate matter, because if any of the cork falls in then the whole wine has to be care fully filtered through paper of French man ufacture; or, if any of the sediment at the bottom is disturbed, so thnt it gets into the whio proper, the same process has to lx; gone through. “We frequently have to rebottle wine that has lain very long. We carefully draw off the top, leaving only the sediment. This is generally put in with some new wine and allowed to remain until all its good propor tions have been absorbed. “Many old American families would rather let the wine they have received through inheritance rot than either use or sell it. In many instances they will noteven allow it to lx* attended to. They lixik ujxni it as a sacred heirloom, and each bottle ) xis sesses, in their eyes, the same inviolable na ture with which they would view the txmes of their ancestors. I think I can sa3 r with out exaggeration that thousands of bottles of wine are spoiling between Wall street and Central Park at the present moment be cause of the prejudice of the owners against having them disturlx'd. They seem to re gard these inherited wines as a proof of their good lineage, somewhat as a European might hxik upon the family plate which was made somewhere in the fifteenth cen tury. “Borne time ago I received a letter from Mrs. Charles Carew, the wife of an old-time New York shipping merchant. Her hus band was well known here when I was a clerk fifty years ago. He had traveled a great deal himself and was acquainted with every Captain who came into this port. This acquaintance enabled him to gratify his passion for collecting fine wines, and a more select lot of wines than Mrs. Carew now has is not to lx- found in this country. Since her husband’s death, some vears ago, she has lived very much retireif in West Forty-sixth street, and her wines have hard ly been touched. Her letter requested me to examine them, and I tell you what, I just gloated over that job. I went down into the cellar with my assis tants and let in what light I could. Then I carefully picked up each bottle and held it up to the light ami feasted my eyes on the soft shades of ruby and yellow. Some of the corks were decayed and the wine had to be rebottled. It was an awful temptation to see tliat beautiful liquid poured out like so much oil 1 There were only about 2,000 bottles in her collection, but each bottle has a history. Mi’s. Carew knows them all, but she is ail old lady now, and I don’t know whether she would say very much about them. A comer in Mrs. Carew'a cellar. “James Hunted, the Speaker of the As sembly. has the finest collection of wines of any limn along the Hudson and probably in the country. He dix-s not drink much him self, but ho entertains royally at his home in Peekskill. “A. T. Stewart was one of my best cus tomers. I don’t telieve ho ever drank a drop, but he bought a large stock of all kinds und always tried to get tho choicest. I don’t telieve he was himself a judge of wine, but lie was shrewd enough not to buy from any one whom he was not positive he could trust. lie served his best wines freely to his friends at all event**. Oue of the last transactions I had with him was to sell him ninety eases of choice French claret. He (iaid me $2,400 in gold for them, which was not high for the quality of wine he ob tained. 1 don't know why, but he sent ]mil of it to his hotel at Harotoga, the Grand ITniou. I know it Was not sold at the table. The rest went up to his marble (mlace on Fifth avenue. Instead of putting it in the cellar he put it at the top or the house. “All the Astors have choice wine cellars. They go more extensively into the rarer wines than most Americans. They have the choice Rhine wpies, tokays, Chiantis, und *0 i Orth. The ordinal'v American wiue i TIIE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, MAY 22, 1887-TWELVE PAGES. cellar has few wines outside of Madeira, champagne and claret. “When I say the Astors I include the branches also. Mrs. Colford Jones is an Astor and so was IVocxlburv G. Langdon. The latter is dead now, but his wine cellar had a very good reputation and included some of the choicest Madeira in New York. Mrs. Jones’ cellar also has a fine reputation, and is well stocked with rich old wines. The Astors are continually on the lookout for choice wines and never grumble at the price so long as they are assured of the gen uineness of the wane. Now, I know Mr. Astor would willingly pay me a gixxl mar gin if I could secure him some of this Blood good Madeira. “Among the other men who will not shrink from paying a high price for what they want is William B. Dinsmore, the President of the Adams Express Company. He is one of the most liberal buyers in the country. I don’t lielieve I ever saw him drink a glass of wine, even at dinner, al though I In-hove he occasionally drinks a glass of champagne. Like nearly all the prominent wine collectors, he buys with the idea of handsomely entertaining his friends rather than of tickling his own palate. A great many Vho are almost total abstainers build big wine cellars and stock them with fine wims. Those men never lack for guests at their dinners and entertainments. A short time ago President Dinsmore of fered me $l3O a dozen for some rare Hock wine. “Speakingof big wine cellars, it is getting to be more and more the thing for big col lectors to have cellars built to suit their par ticular notions. A number of collectors who have choice wines have the best put in separate bias and never allow the keys to go out of their own keeping. • “I called with some friends on one of these gentlemen, an old acquaintance of mine, several weeks ago, and in the course of con versation ho told us that he had secured a very fine Moselle wine. “ ‘l’ll let you try some,’ he said, and left the room. “He returned in about five minutes. His hands were covered with dust where he had been groping in the cellar, aud he had sev crol bottles of wine carefully laid in a bas ket which he carried. As I knew’ that he had a very good butler, I inquired why he had gone to the bother of getting the wine himself. “ ‘James is a very good servant and knows a thing or two about handling wines,’ he replied. ‘He’s honest, too, but I’d rather trust him with my pocketbook than my choice wines. I make it a rule never to let any one touch the keyes to the best wines, although it discommodes me at times, ’ “Herman Oelrichs, the ex-President of the New York Athletic Club, is another big buyer. He bought a very large lot of choice wines recently in Baltimore. He paid a fancy price for them, too, I understand. Mayor Hewitt has only enough wines to pro vide for his present needs. He entertains frequently and therefore has to have a cer tain amount on hand, but neither he nor his wife inherited any. Peter Cooper, his father-in-law, didn’t care a rap for wine and did not Ik it her to create a wine cellar for his children’s use. I understand, however, that the Mayor is thinking of fixing up a first class wine cellar now. “Avery large collection of fine Madeira wines is owned by James G. King’s sons, the Wall street brokers and bankers. Their father was a connoisseur and imported largely in casks about sixty years ago. He ran it off into bottles, every one of which bears his private seal. The young men are vory chary about using it. “Every branch of the Remson family has a share of the wines laid away by the an cestral stock somewhere about the begin ning of the present century. You couldn’t buy a drop of it though you came pro vided with nuggets of gold. Frederick Schuchardt, one of the Reinsens, and a so ciety leader, left a very choice collection when he died several years ago. Not a bot tle was sold or got into the hands of strangers, however, but was amicably di vided among his heirs. The Remsens have Ixxni carefully adding to their stock in a quiet manner and Bid fair soon to have one of the most Helen collections in the city. “Among tho other prominent collectors and owners of choice wines are J. W. Gir ard, Mrs. W. W. Peck, A. A. Low and Judge Hilton. Charles A, Dana is an ex cellent judge of wines, and serves some of the rarest and finest at his elegant enter tainments. Georgo Washington Childs has a large wine cellar at his home in Phila delphia. "There are many other prominent people whose collections compare favorably with those of Europeans, and, if American gold continues to flow as libarally as it has, no doubt many European collections will be transferred Ixwlily to this country.” My friend poured out a glass of rich Bur gundy as he concluded, and after letting it gently glide down my parched throat, I went away more than ever impressed with the growth of this nation and the advance in the munificence of its first citizens Charles J. Rosebault. BACK VIEW OF SOME FURNITURE. Things Worth Knowing by Fastidious Housekeepers. Since it has become the fashion to place furniture at right angles or in the centre of the room, the corners “on the bias,” so to speak, the backs of such articles os sofas, desks and pianos have become of import ance. The sofas are easily upholstered or covered with the same material, back and front, instead of the back being of black muslin, that ought always to have had the word “fraud” written across it. The desks are now made of the same wood, hut the back of an upright piano is anything but a thing of beauty. Recently I visited a friend whose upright piano stood at right angles from the fireplace, with the keyboards to wards the windows and the back towards the centre of the room. In this way the pei'Son sitting at the piano has much better light, because it falls over the shoulder di rectly upon the music. To cover the un sightly back of the piano was a piece of yel low plush, embroidered with a roll of music, a violin and a few flowers. It was very beautiful. At the tettoin of the piano was placed a low Turkish lounge piled up with pillows, so that whoever reposed upon it had the benefit of the grate fire, and the piano formed the back or the lounge and also act ed as a screen from both light and cold. How often one lying down feels like exclud ing the light yet will not because someone else in the room desires the light to see to play. By this arrangement both can be satisfied. It would lx* very delightful to sink into an after-dinner nap amid luxuri ous cushions, screened by the very piano that from the other side is emitting sweet music. These piano backs muy be made in many ways and of many designs to suit the taste of each individual. In Mrs. Horace Helyer, the English beauty's cottage, at New|x>rt, the liaek of tho piano is covered with plain maroon velvet, upon which was hung pho tographs of her friends in attractive frames. Another pretty device is simply to have a curtain on a slender brass rod of some Ori ental material or the Jnpant<se figured silks now so generally used. Some piano backs are covered with a Turkish rug, which is attractive, particularly if the lounge on that side is also covered with a rug. Sometimes a large arm chair is placed at the back of the piano, but the lounge is prettier and conveys an air of greater luxury and com fort. Of course with this arrangement the I sick of the piano looks exactly like a screen ami one never realizes that it is anything else until he walks to the other side. These embroidered piano hacks are a novelty and will lx* greatly used for Christmas presents where it is desirable the gift should hoof the donor’s own handiwork. I know u young lady who has just lx'gun one which she in tends giving to her tiance nert Christinas. He haMiens to lx* a young gentleman who is sjKS-ially fond of music and plays well. liittle niinx, she is putting the greatest amount of work into it, and I do lielieve every stitch sic takes she is thinking how some day i.t wdl ortßkmoiit her own parlor— their own farlor. . ,Kvjm.’Vn lUkbk UAJivcn WOMEN AT THE I’OLLS. AN INTERESTING ELECTION PICNIC IN THE FAR WEST. How the Fair Sex Utilize the Ballot —The Ways of the Feminine Voter An Election Canard That Cleared the Polling Place—The Age Question. From the Few York Star. Though a tenderfoot and acquainted with few iu our vicinity, I was appointed judge of the election in Mica precinct. For the free West holds out a prompt and friendly hand to all newcomers. Until a man shows himself mtnave he is welcomed as an honorable citizen and place is made for him on his merits. If he proves a knave, no where in the wide world will ho be more frankly advertised, and nowhere else will thorns be piled so mountainously before him. A fierce local struggle was in progress be twixt two rival towns for the permanent county seat, and runners hail lieen through the precincts urging everybody to bring out the votes of the ladies. In this chivalrous region our women have equal preogatives with men, although they view the ballot with an indifference agonizing to all advo cates of suffrage. I went early to the polLs, a small log schoolhouse in the bills, shadowed by lofty pines. Between the vistas of surrounding forest there was visable a broad wooded belt below stretching from north to south, and beyond this belt the prairies lay brown and bare to the sky line. Behind us towered the imposing proclivities of Mica Peak. A primeval scene for neighbors here were few and far between, and the scratches of the plow were too trivial in the great en semnle to attract attention. A rough wagon road ran by the school house, wherein deer tracks were quite as common as hoof plants of horses. OUR FIRST VOTER. The ladies were not early at the polls. Our first voter was a picturesque Western character. He arrived at a gallop, cried whoa 1 with a resonance which made the woods ring, reined his horse furiously iiefore the door, tossed his lines over a limb and strode into the room. He was already pro vided with a ticket, which he flaunted con spicuously. He stood six feet in height, slender and sinewy, face bronzed, eyes of glittering hazel, and moustache, beard and hair long and black. He was gnrlied in a flannel-lmed duck coat, pants tucked into dragoon boots, and a flapping broad brimmed sombrero hat. Tho belt at his waist held a large revolver and spurs tin kled on his heels. Of ferocious aspect, the intensity of his appearance was heightened by his prixligious basso voice as he ad vanced flourishing tho ticket and exclaiming in words timed to his footsteps: “Does anybody challenge my vote?” Whereupon he folded the ballot and was about to thrust it into tho box with bravado when the inspector interfered. He had lived on the border too long to be affected by cos tume or demeanor. “Hold on, my friend!” he said, sonorously. And looking about upon his comrades lie asked: “Do any of you know this man!” One of the judges replied: “He’s all right. Been prospecting on Mica Peak ever since last spring.” Whereupon the inspector put the ticket in the box and our initial voter galloped off triumphantly. “I fear it will be unpleasant for the ladies to vote here,” said I, made somewhat un easy by this brusque episode and observing the swarm of roughly clad ranchers now gathering. The inspector was surprised, even amused. “Oh, no, we’ll make it easy for ’em. There’ll be few like this fillibuster.” But it seemel to me, fresh from the East, that for ladies to face this crowd of shaggy bachelors would lie disagreeable. For the bulk of jxipulation on the frontier consists of single men, women being scarce and rare like paper money. The hours sped by and not a woman ap peared. The ranchers came in at intervals, voted, and went away, the arrivals offset ting the departures, so that we had about a score continually around the polls. Hardy, vigorous outspoken fellows they were, full of the hope and courage with which our borders overflow. But my tender soul was worried, fearing the ladies would shrink to enter a building thus barricaded by burly men. I little knew! IN POSSESSION. Presently camo a family party, a man, wife and three small children. And now from every direction, as if by preconcerts e<l arrangement. wagons drove up containing similar households. For these people hail no servants with whom to leave their children. Not only were all tho little ones brought .along, but enormohs jugs of milk and baskets of lunch. The bachelors scattered timidly and the ladies swarmed in upon us, moved the tenches around the tire, block aded the doorway, and took entire posses sion of the premises. They were farmers’ wives, buxom, sensible and energetic. A more domestic scene one seldom sees. Here a mother nursing her baby, there a fond father troling his infant daughter, yonder a knot of women exchanging recipes for mixed pickles, and again on eager group setting out lunch and passing pie and sliced pork to their friends. I could not at first underatand this inva sion, until I learned that the school house was the one public resort for social pur poses. Dancies, parties, singing schools, preaching and political meetings all were held here. A gathering at the school house was the signal for a general assemblage of friends, and the women had evidently given more thought to this fuct than to the origi nal motive of the occasion. Still they came. By noon the building was fairly packed, and the picnic appear ance increased with every arrival. Bis cuits,' sandwiches, cake, sauce, boiled eggs, canteens of cold tea were laid out on every side, and the l label was confounding. “If you iron ginghams and calicoes on the wrong side they look—” “His very best cow. The snow was doep, and all tho poor thing got to eat was moss—” “They say her victuals taste of pine gum half the time Drips from the piteh rafters—” “I pullod tho poor child’s tooth myself, so—” “Who shall you vote for, Sue?” “Me? I don’t know*. Jack ain’t here yet.” “Mamma! Give me some pie. too?” “Oh, Eliza, at the polls after all?” “Yes. Didn’t want to come a bit. Bill is Republican, and I told him I'd vote Demo cratic sure if he made mo come. But he said no matter, so long as we both vote for Bpokane Falls.’’ “The ground squirrels just ate us up alive. And we naaled water two miles to cook with. 1 never was so discouraged—” “Pooh! 1 guess we’re every bit as sharp as the men folks.” “Don’t vote for Spicer. They say he treats his wife perfectly awful ?” “Cucumbers taste bitter that come from that cold hill. Grow so slow, you know.” MEASLES? During a momentary lull there ap peared in the doorway a portly and \’eneru ble rancher. ■ “How d’do, John Mellville. Brought your wife?” “No.” “Well, Rhe’s a heap more sensible than the rest of us.” ‘■‘Tiki had, Mr. Mellville. She promised me to come and vote the Prohibition ticket. ” “Little Milly is sick. Wife had to stay home,” said portly John. “Hick? What ails her?"’ “Wo kxikcd in the doctor books yes terday and made up our minds it was measles, ” "Measles!” “Mercy!” A panic was precipitated. “Let me out of here!” “Xarah Jane I You come away from thut dmr.” “Measles! Don’t step inside.” “Go ’way, John. Go ’way!” “Pm going right home,” cried one. “So am I, echoed another. And a bustle of preparation for imme diate retreat arose. “Put in your votes before you leave, la dies,” said the inspector, anxiously. “Indeed I won’t. 1 never thought of this. It’s the last time I’ll ever come to the polls.” And their apprehensions were not stilled until we urged infectious John Mellville to retire from the scene. This John did, pro testing, however, that Ids child was bitter yesterday and didn’t have measles at all. But his explanation came too late, and he was forced to stay far away beneath the trees. PARE NOT FACE THEM. -As nobody was voting and the schoolroom had become a mere nursery and restaurant, 1 made my way to the door for a breath of fresh air and a respite from infantile wail ings. Shouts arose, “A dude! A dude!” and, looking through the trees, I saw a man approaching, leading liis horse. He at once impressed me as the finest physical speci men I had seen in the West. Tall and symmetrical, with classic features and ruddy cheeks, he looked the incarnation of manly strength and beauty. He wore store clothes ai)d a necktie, being much more elaborately clad than any who had previ ously arrived, and was greeted jovially by the assembled “baches” under tne trees, one of whom pointed slyly to finger marks on the trousers of the newcomer imprinted in flour on each side. Evidently he, too, was a “bach,” aud had made biscuits in the in terval:! of toilet duty, wiping his hands in the usual place with the unconsciousness of habit. “Any women folks here yet?” he asked, nervously. The reason of his careful attire was at once apparent, and everybody grinned. A young fellow stepjxxl forward promptly. “No; they haiii’t come yit. Expect ’em every minute. Better vote right off, so they can have the building when they git here.” An eager chorus rose. “Yes, Sam, put in your vote and have it over with.” Sam took one of tho proffered tickets and his friend escorted him toward the door. A baby voice, suddenly piercing the roof, brought Sam to a halt. Only Mrs. Smith. She came a few min utes ago with her baby. Waiting for Smith; I guess.” And from a grove at one side the joker suceeded in marching Sam to the very door. Here Sam stopped aghast as he looked in on tho roomful of wives and children. His cheek blanched and he fair staggered back, tearing from the grasp of his comrade and crying desperately: “No! No! I won’t go in there!” he re treated wildly to his horse. “Wheregoing, Sam?” “I’ve got an errand over to Colby’s. Be back after a while.” And amid the guffaws of his fellow citi zens bashful Sam departed, and was seen no more. Poor fellow! He lost his vote. “I tell you times is changed!” commented a man in blouse and overalls, leaning against a pine. "When I was a boy to home in Indianny, I recollect bearin’ maw and paw talk the votin’ business over. “ ‘I tell ye,’ says the old man to her, ‘I wouldn’t have ye go to the polls nohow. Y ou’d have to walk up to the box through a crowd of loafers all smokin’ pipes and starin’ at ye, and you’d sink through the floor.’ “He orto be here now and see Sam try to edge up to the ballot box!” THEY VOTE! But at last, after lunch was eaten and put away, and the babies had had their nans, and the ladies had exhausted all the gossip, a general movement was made toward de parture. It was a long ways home, and the cows to milk, and water to draw, and sup per to get, aud the breakfast dishes to wash at the heels of all. After such a festival one might suppose the ladies would vote cheerily, but this was not the case. It had been jxistponed as long as possible, and now that it must actu ally lie done they went at it spitefully. Here was a husband handing rival tickets to his wife and saying for the public ear: “You can vote which every you like,” at the same time gripping his own ballot with a resolute air and a jaw of such outline as made one hope his spouse would vote as he did in the interests of domestic peace. There a dame was imperatively thrusting on her husband the Prohibition ticket. These Prohibition ladies were earnest and intelligent. They advanced firmly to tiie polls and gave in their ballots with an air of satisfaction. Beyond these few who had a definite personal purpose, the voting was perfunctory and done with manifest dislike. The ladies each handed a ballot to the in spector hesitatingly, watched curiously as he put it in the box, and turned away with a toss of the head. “There! It is the first time I ever voted, and it'll be the last 1” “I hope Spokane Falls gets the county seat so we can stay home next time.” “You men must be growing weak-minded when you drag an oldlady like me out to vote. I’m 70 years old. Old enough to know better.” And with contemptuous air the dames re tired to their wagons. Alas 1 The perver sity of human nature! While many of their sisters in the East sigh for suffrage, these who have it hold it in disdain. ASK HKH AGE. Now came young Tyndall and his wife on horseback, and there was quite a stir among the ladies who still lingered in the wagons and the “l>aehes” around the trees. Tyndall had purchased the oldest and largest ranch in the precinct and had brought a bride from San Francisco several months before. Few hail seen her, for she was very retired and aristocratic. A young woman, with peachy, girlish face, a wealth of blonde hah- and round, bright blue eyes, attired in an elegant riding habit of dark green velvet with a long plume on her dainty cap. “She looks very young!” said the inspec tor as the couple drew near. “Do you think she’s old enough to vote?” “No, I don’t,” replied one of the judges. “Then she ought not to allowed.” “You’ll have to ask her age,” said another of the judges. The burly inspector looked comcered and nervous. More nervous yet as the bride came in, glanced about, and blushed to find herself the only women present. Tyndall, whose dress and bearing showed early culture, nodded to the officials, took his wife's arm, and escorted her ' forward. He picked out his tickets from the table, folded one and handed it to her, folded the other and held it between his lingers. Mrs. Tyndall presented herself be fore the Itfillot box and raised her ticket, un certain what came next. Her innocent blue eyes rested on the inspector with a pretty look of wonder and inquiry, Perspiration moistened the inspector’s brow. His weather-beaten face turned a darker mi. “Your name?” he asked in a low, husky voice. Mrs. Tyndall looked at her husband, but he did not reply to her. He smiled and awaited her answer. Whereupon sko said, becoming grave: “Stella Tyndall.” Tho inspector mechanically echoed, “Stella Tyndall,” and the clerks wrote it down. Me looked into the fair young face and gasped. This was no plain fami wife; this was a highbred city lady. Refinement spoke in every line of her face, in every graceful curve of her form and costume. Could he ask her age or challenge her right to appear? The inspector faltered. It hal l>eeii easy to bar the braggart miner who first appeared to offer a vote there, but this— The inspector dropped her ballot into the l>ox. No doubt a barb rankles in his con science to this day. Mrs. Tyndall stood looking on on instant without moving. “Is that all/” she cried at last, astonished. “That's all. You’ve voted, Stella,” .said her husband, offering his vote in turn, and the bride laughed merrilv She took her husband’s arm and peeped all about her with great amusement, and went off in high spirits. It had been a very funny episode for her. “I"couldn’t do it!'’ said the inspector, drawing a long breath as his laughing asso ciates rallied him. ‘‘She's so high-toned. This having women folks vote—l dunno—” And he shook his head ruefully. Wood Ruffe Clarke. SITTING ROOM AND SIDEWALK. Facts and Fancies about Many Things. The small woman has a contrivance for getting even with the world. I saw her use it for the first time yesterday and was struck with the simplicity of her scheme. To be five feet high and to have your palpable earthly weight limited to 100 pounds is a great Seal of a disadvantage in this world. The little woman never has justice done her; she is designing, she is deceitful, she is a bundle of typified pettiness to the novelist, and the tall majestic creature, who carries off all the virtues with which a story-teller endows an eligible heroine, is in real "fife the only woman who stands a ghost of a chance in a crowd. The little woman has borne it as long as she cares to. She has rebelled against the inequalities of Providence and taken the question of stature in cases of emergency into her own hands. They say that Mrs. Langtry likes ice cream soda. If she does perhaps tliat is what called her into a Broadway confectioner’s just when a group of curious gazers had their eyes fixed on her to watch her pass. The little woman was on the outskirts of the throng and came up just in season to see the folds of a dark freeu walking gown disappear through the oorway. The people in front of her were all but flattening their noses against the window, but the small woman's horizon was bounded by the broadcloth shoulders that hemmed her In and the jet ornaments on the beaded wraps that flashed close to her eyes. The small woman rose to the situation; rose literally and to my bewildered sight some three inches higher above the ground. She seemed to stand there quietly and with out any ado about it as if, in case she chose, she had a perfect right to six feet at the least. She peered between the heads of her neighbors at the boubons behind the glass, and then, apparently satisfied that no glimpse of the gurgling of the refreshing draught down Mrs. Langtry's throat was even to the tallest of women forthcoming, resumed her normal attitude and walked composedly away. She had springs on the soles of her boots, so a shoemaker told me half an hour after ward, and he added that he had had calls for six or eight pail's within the past two weeks. The boots are arranged as tor every day pedestrianism, but furnished with an invisible wire frame that is disposed of in a variety of ways, but usually lies close about the toe and heel when not wanted, slipping down to furnish a stilt for the foot in any case of need. The little woman has been acknowledged always an ingenious creature, and now that she has fairly sets her wits at work remedying the shortcomings of nature you may expect to meet her to-morrow on the street adjusting her inches comfortably according to the attractions that demand, but used to demand in vain, to be seen. WOMEN AND POSIES. What won’t a woman do with the poor, defenseless posies next? The flower muff was April’s freak, the bonnet of flowers is the next caprice and is assigned to May. The first buds of this new floral outburst peeped timidly forth this week, and in spite of the hot May sun that seems almost to make such fragile decoration as impossible as it is whim sical, the notion is morally sure to blossom out lavishly at once. Imagine a couple of handfuls of apple blooms, the pink bulls and the white petals thrown carelessly together, woven into a low, flat, fragrant piece of headgear without strings. An apple blos som bonnet in Central Park yesterday was worn by a girl in her teens, who played a morning game of tennis- with the delightful consciousness that comes or is fabled to come of having on something absolutely new. The little overdressed youngsters whose nurses wouldn’t let them stoop to pick up the most bewitching of round pebbles, and the early promenaders stopped to look at her and if that freak in the present maniacal craze for flower wearing doesn’t find inside the next ten days some scores of imitators peopling the streets with walking conserva tories then hobbies have forgotten how they l>egin. The flower bonnet has—as nearly as the casual observer can guess—some sort of a loose meshed wire lace for a foundation that allows of fresh filling for the afternoon stroll if the sun has faded the morning sup ply- Oljve Logan has never been identified with the woman suffrage movement, but she Is a shrewd observer, and some interest may at tach to her judgment of the apparently in evitable, whether desirable or undesirable, trend of the times. “I have never cared to take part,’’ she said, in a recent conversa tion, “in the agitation for the ballot, because I doubt if the ballot is to be obtained in that way. But I have kept myself for years in touch with women, and they are taking such place in every modern activity that it is hard to see how that single distinction on account of sex can be maintained much longer. I can remember when Margaret Fuller’s ‘let them be sea captains, if they will,’ was too absurd even to laugh at; but two women have become captains within the year, and a woman has obtained a pilot’s license this past month. The inconceivable has turned into the actual. People laughed at Lincoln for years. They have almost stopped laughing at Lucy Stone and Mrs. Stanton and Miss Anthony now; they may reverence them too by and by.” TROUSSEAU BREAKFAST. Have you been to a trousseau breakfast? A quite recent invention, it has given a fresh demonstration of the fact that that compe tition is the life of many things other than trade. With forty covers, some hundreds of dollars’ worth of rose docoration, an orchid t able or two, darkened rooms, can illes with pink shales and the latest triumph of the caterer for general preliminaries, it has jeweled hands lifted in ecstatic admira tion over the going away provision of un derwear and gowns and" a chorus of excla mations at the texture of the bridal veil for triumphal crescendo and climax. Asa mat ter of course, what cost hundrods yesterday runs up into the thousands to-day, for one can t send out cards to the dear unmarried for whom the season has not turned out so profitably without showing them a finer dssnlay than was made by the not unwilling bud that burst into flower last week. A prettier custom and one that has ample justification for itself is the bride’s farewell dinner that is springing into sudden popu larity this spring, The groom that is to be lias long had a way of getting his bachelor friends about him and holding high revel before tin* knot that makes him a Benedict is titxl. The bride is finding out tliat it is equally pleasant when the wedding day hns been set and lihfore she says go(xl-bye to her girlish friends to give an afternoon or an evening to reminiscence and re-enjoyment of bygone good times. Can you swim? If not, take some lessons liefore you pack your H.iratoga for the sea side. inexorable f ate—t hat is, the fashion— talks this season of adding that art to the ever-growing list of accomplishments which it is indispensable for a girl to have. Do you like the tricycle? Its numbers grow and its popularity is on the gain week by week and day by day. The women who within n week or two have begun to sell tickets over one of the forrics look as if they liked it and rather expected to have reasonably good times. E. P. H. Delicate Children, Nursing Mot hers, Overworked Men, and for all dis eases where the tissues are wasting awav from the inability to digest ordinary food, or from overwork of the brain or body, all such should take Scott's EmulsioN of Pure Cod Liver Oil with Hyjiophosphites. “I used the Emulsion on a lady who wns deli cate and threatened with Bronchitis. It put her in such good health nrtrf tl-HhUiut I must. say it Is the best Emulsion I aveilused." L. P. Waddell. M. D..(Hughs' Mills, s. C. MISS CLEVELAND’S PLANS How She Became Associate Edito. the Magazine of History f °* New York, May Sl.-Everyt™, who has read the newpapers witt in the past two weeks hasbeen njl acquainted with the fact that Miss p Elizabeth Cleveland has become the ciate editor of the Magazine of ” History, and that she Is to divide the cutive responsibility with Mrs Svlv a . Reed in that lady’s private school for S? m the fall How these arrangements C come about and what are the details of \i * Cleveland’s plans are matters that been made public. “* It is unfair to Mrs. Lamb, whose editorial labors she is to lighten, to Mrs. Reed anH? Miss Cleveland herself to assumTtW,!! project is a bit of sensationlism contrive because the President chances to have a & ter. Miss Cleveland herself feels the ZZ barrassment of her position keenly andT her recent visit to New York, when the arrangements were consummated and whT she led the reporters the most fatiguin? dances, she expressed a pathetic sort of that the newspapers would let her try w hat work is in her in peace “ The present plan, so far at least as connection with Mrs. Reed’s school is ■!! cerned, is not of sudden growth. Mrs iS and the Cleveland family are old acquaim ances, both coming from New LorZ county, and the project that has now minated was broached five years or nZ ago. When Mr. Cleveland was the Presidency, Mrs. Reed reluctant], postponed her pet scheme, but after Z White House marriage it began to shaa itself in her mind again. This past wim she visited Miss Cleveland during the lattert stay at the White House and the matter J I thoroughly discussed, Miss Van Vechte I Miss Cleveland’s friend, being taken 2 I confidence, but few other people having am I knowledge of the plan. Nothing was 1 1 finitely settled, however, and meanwiA I two months or so ago came the offer fn* I Mrs. Lamb. Miss Cleveland has been thor I oughly successful as a teacher, possess* I to an eminent degree the pow er of imiw I ing to others the know ledge that she po% I ses herself; but in spite of her predilectia I and her capabilities in this direction shell I a yet stronger literary bent and rather j. I clined at first to go with the magazine ft I consultation between Mrs. Lamb aai | Mrs. Reed, the present arrana I ment was finally " hit upon as I Miss Cleveland was asked to undertake tb I duties of both positions. As she is to tear I American history in the school, her wai I will chime in nicely with that on the man I zine. The plan on the face of it looks like a ven I neat triangular one, and purposely so coil trived; but that the two lines of work shou!?| present themselves together was simply n| of those coincidences that happens sometina | History has been from the outset Mrs. Clew | land’s specialty, and she made Mrs. Lambi | acquaintance in the days before she saw the I White House, and 'before her duties then! had suddenly matured anil developed the® I cutive ability that she shows to-day. Sim I her unfortunate Chicago experience with 1 1 Eublisher who could not keep a contract -lei as declined a number of offers for maiiu-B script which have given rise to all manwl of rumors as to her permanent withdraw® from literary work, the simple fact beiugfl that she will.have quiet enough in hand* future, aside from outside offers, to fui® occupy her time. Miss Cleveland will spend a part of ‘I summer at Holland Patent, and does ufl propose moving to New York until lim opening of the school year in the fall. S® will begin her editorial work on the MojiH zinc of American History at once, but ® is possible, if not indeed probable, that bfl work upon it will not be organized cot® pletely until fall. It is not now expectfl that she will assume a very heavy liurde® but that, p>rha])s a department will ® created for her, which she will take unrf® her special charge, finding in it an op]® tunity for study and an outlet for the fm® of her research, more congenial and ni® broadening in its influence then entire c® finement to the routline of a school. T® magazine, which has broadened its scoH anil flourished like the green bay tree uni® Mrs. laml/s charge, shifting its quarte® May 1. and is now domiciled in the sai® building with the Critic and Scribner's, Tfii Broadway, where it has the cheeriest v® coziest of editorial rooms. Mrs. Reed's school, at 6 and h East Fift® third street, to which the major part ® Miss Cleveland’s time will be given, has be® established for a quarter Of a century marl® and is one of the most successful in the dt® From the exterior, like most of New York® private schools, it shows nothing of its pei® gogic character, appearing like a couple ® well-to-do, comfortable brown stone iron® in a comfortable, well-to-do brown stoi® block. Within, polished floors strewn ;t® rugs, substantial, quiet-tone furniture, po® tieres breaking the school room monotory ® the doorways, dainty bits of pottery, pain® ings and rare, quaint old prints carry out i® homelike character. Mrs. Reed herself ® trifle below medium height, with her Ires® complexion still smooth and almost girls® her kindly vivacious face and snow-whit® hair, is not the least pleasant feature of iri® establishment. She has 200 pupils or there® abouts, ranging from the little people in A® primary departments, where ad ellesle® girl makes the first steps in the path of lean® ing smooth to them, to the young worn?® who up- taking.the preparatory and eojl'ri® ate course of study prescribed by the Iru® toes of Columbia College. Bitting in long reception room fronting the street in® fragrant with spring flowers, where it "i® fall to Miss Cleveland’s lot to see a geo® (leal of company next fall, there is a soun® of fresh voices over the place, the tinkle (t® piano and a glimpse of young figures com® ing and going. From chapel to rceitntio® room, and then to the lecture room, worn® the new teacher will hold esiieeial sa ® everything is plcasent and well appoint*’’ ® n degree. Miss Winnifred Edgerton, J® received the degree of Ph. P. tram t-°‘ bia College last year, is the mathemau™® teacher, and Mias'Cleveland's gurrnuii'U-P® and co-workers promise to be all that -® teacher could desire. .„i® Miss Cleveland’s position will be 4 js°“® deal more than that of teacher of hist' 1 ' it has Ihs-u represented in the press. ® was asked in the first plaee to take full cutive charge of the school to win™-”® Reed has been closely confined ter •' and it was on her demurring to tliat an' <-* responsibility that a copartnership arranged by which she is associated Mrs. Reed in the administration. . department will he crouted for her. B one, if not the only one of its sort sehool of the country, a chair of Anu-r® history, for the senior, collegiate 11,] ' graduate pupils. This is the field ° JB to which Miss Cleveland is most cut tieally inclined, and it is a promising ■ ‘ the times when any school begins revival of interest in that neglected of our everyday education. , t ,j^| Miss Cleveland is looking forward some pleasure to establishing herseli city, and her friends who have 1 siting the step and urging it upon n some time are, with one accord, arrangement and satisfied that ‘J*' 1 ."i 1 tion is one eminently suited to her mind and ability. Her success is uI- | j® lematicol. Womanly and wmnmg Jj® her characteristics she will find the hearts of her pupils. Mdline pathy with the past, which is the firs |(( ® acteristic of a good historian, and ',.^j® luring powers, she will have muen j (( ® worth listening to, to offer them m t ‘ g® turn room and to her readers m tm LB the nuigazine. B Advice to Mothers. , J Mm. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup *”® always lie used when children am ' "® teeth. It relieves the little slll^t‘ r . I *^',| I,ni® 1 ,ni® produces natural, quiet sleep P> r ; f ,i® the child from puiu and the lit . ;!( b® awakes as ‘‘bright as t® It is very pleasant, to tusto. ul i^B child, softens the gums, allays iI 1 lieves wind, regulates the bowels, lie.st known remedy for dim.' I’" ‘i® arising from trotfiing or othffl ls. ® cents a bottle. ®