Newspaper Page Text
6
CAUGHT BY THE CAMERA.
WHAT SORT OF A HOUBR LILLIAN
RUSSELL LIVES IN.
Its Atmosphere Is of the Now—Palms
Are Seen Everywhere—a Picture
That is in Every Hoorn—She Did Not
Remember the Donor’a Name— It
Was a Love Letter From—Daughty.
{Copyright.)
New York, Aug. 32.—T0 know a
woman one must know her in her own
home.
Asa subtile flavor of character pervades
even a business letter, so in that envelope of
daily life —the house—there is sure to lurk
a betrayed personality. Like Balxac'a
Madame Firmiani, Lillian Russell has been
creditod with as many personalities as a
chameleon. She has been this—she has been
th it—and has taken her color from the sur
roundings newspaper traditions were pleased
to give her. In a word there have been as
many fluctuations in Lillian Russell gossip
as in stocks—or even philanthropy. But
until now, not a word has ever been written
f her house.
Never mind its street—and never mind
Its number —or the color of its awnings.
Its hall is small, and attracts no attention
to itself, merely in n "Simou says thumbs
up” manner inviting you to pass on. In
this it does as the majority of conven
tional New York halls do. The drawing
room on the contrary is not conventional.
It snaps its Angers at a Past and ignores
the Future, lie atmosphere is of the Now,
An antiquarian would feel hurt by the at
titude it takes.
All here is of pristine freshness. All teems
new, light, and full of sunshine. In winter
it allows dull shades of rose and blue to war
with each other in a truly French fashion,
but to-day—in August —its easy chair and
divan are habited in what might he termed
their summer clothes, and are covered in
■oft white silk with vague traileries of yel-
low. Even the softly swaying curtains at
the long windows follow this ca
price for white—and gold—a natural
one for a shrine of opera bouffe. The house
does not compel attention by rarohangings,
georgous upholstery, or elaborate ceiling
effects. But there aro other things within
it which so hold attention by tbe lapel of its
coat, that one would find it difficult to recall
those other attractions after leaving it. As
much of a compliment, probably, as one can
pay this little house so like a bit of amber
in coloring, and which imprisons a bee with
eo sweet and popular a hum.
The large pioture upon the floor boneath
the mantel has just been forwarded to Miss
Russell from Parts. It is La Cigale repro
duced from the original by Bissou, atid a
favorite of the Salon of 1890. This picture
iD some style you will And in every room,
as the priraa donna's mind is just now much
oooapied with the anticipated production
of tbe opera of that name at the Garden
theater in October.
“Worry over it! I should think I did 1 I
have a sleepless week before the bringing
out of evory new opera. Every detail—
every Item is fixed in my mlud.and tbe
reality needs must accommodate itself to
the dream.”
As she spoke she passed beside a palm.
which reached feathery Angers far above
her head. Palms are everywhere disposed
in huge pots, while a table Jr writhing brass
dragons makes itself useful by following
their example. The furniture here is all of
gilded or carved white wood, hinting of
nothing more aucient than the year 1891—
with the exception of a little Verne Martin
c.air, which is companioned by some very
pretty marquetry and lacquer work. As for
lamps they are more numerous than appli
cants for the chair now occupied by the
Hat. Lamps sentimentally drooping be
neath shades of violets, or rioting in the
embrace of roses, lamps to read by—lamps
to dream and chat by—lamps demure and
vestal Hue—and lamps as alluring as any
Hpanisb beauty. Cabiuets and etageres are
loaded with tbe usual collection of Cluis
soune. Onyx, Doulton, Satsuma, Hunga
rian ware. Crown Derby and Royal Wor
cester. But no bibelots are as interesting
as those entangled with the life of the
singer.
So leaving the greater part of the faience
to ceramio cranks wo will interest ourselves
in a Dresden violin which lies on its satin
cushion upon a glass shelf within a cabinet.
“And this!”
“That—was presented to me by a musioal
society' upon tbe 1 OOth night of Poor Jo
nathan.” It was an elaborate wreath of lau
rels wrought iu silver and gold and resting
complacently upon a blue velvet cushion.
A third shelf displayed a chatelaine of silvor
with three pendants—a Frouch horn, a
guitar and a mandolin.
“It was given me as a dinner favor at
Saratoga, see! It is for oigarettes, matches
or whatever you may wish,”
“Aad this!” pointing to anothsr souve
nir.
“Perhaps I had better not give the donor’s
pame—without permission."
“No, indeed! Most certainly not.”
“And besides—l have forgotten it.” This
was conclusive—and like a woman—was it
nut!
“And this Sedan chair?”
“Came from Par;*, to us—a gift. And so
did the little piece of faience, with 'Petit
Jour’ upon it.”
Upon the walls, in white ami gold frames,
are many pictures, all water colors with the
exception of some Florentine porcelain,
Crairiu’s “Frou-Frou” and some fine and
vigorous crayons by Sarony. Van Beers is
represented, and so also is Hawley, the
acreen artist, by some good things. Over a
cabinet bangs a large water oolor portrait
of Lillian Kussell and her little daughter,
Vailed Idillau. My hostess eyed it critically.’
“I dou’t likaitl Do vouf” I hesitated.
"He—the artist—died soon after. Can
didly now —do you wunder*"
Under the carved satin wood mantel,with
Its great Creadon clock and candlelabra, its
bowl of American Beauty roses, and its
two magnificent ivory busts of Beethoven
and Mozart, is a high photograph stand
Many of the faces are favorites of the foot
lights.
“They’re all there. Bee! Here’s Judio—
and Thao, and our own Manola, and Hunt
ington—and—all the rest of them.” And
Missßus-.01l gave three festive taps with a
long white Anger—rlngiess—but witti a
narrow pink nail. Among the articles upon
the white and gold piaso, to which a loaded
music rack plays attentive cavalier, is a sil
very bronze group of cleaniy-built race
horses and dapper jockeys.
Miss Russell’s favorite song lies open upon
the rest, and as she passes the piano she
■trikes a few chords lightly and bums the
words:
"I want no star in heaven to guide me.
I want no moon—no sun to shine
While I have you. sweetheart, beside me.
While 1 know that you are mine."
By the piano is a mammoth screen, which
frames some rare tapestry representing the
seasons. It is a souvenir of Paris. Upon a
low table near it lie a couple of books. One
is covered with brocade, which may be a
bit of priest’s vestment, an attar cloth or a
piece of First Empire (town —or —may not.
The other book is bound in dark leather.
“If you can judge a man by his books,
why not a woman!’’ and 1 laid hands upou
them.
“If you must judge me-judge me by
tkisr
It was Bacon’s Essays.
“And the other I”
“Never mind the other!’’
Perhaps there is in this home nothing
more unusual in design, or more valued by
their owner, than the pieces of superb
carved ivory. A large bas-relief shows
great strength and some very flue lines,
while a nude figure in tinted ivory is re
markable for grace and delicacy as well as
for its fantastic conception.
“Whose work? A Greek who was at
Barony’s—if I should pronounce his name I
couldn’t sing to-night. Put it down Prow
luski-Moul-aki or any other ski. He'll
never know. He’s abroad.”
1 Toe walls of the dining room are devoted
to etchings—re-marked proofs. Perhaps
none is more pleasing than tbe “V’enioe” by
Farrar and “Derby Day,” which Miss Rus
sell brought from England. The gem of
the room, however, is an ink affair by Hen
ner. Neir the buffet a big black and gold
screen elbows a jardinere crowded with
palms, and the limoges, wedgwood and fine
i crystal are made jealous hv a service of old
I Dresden. A big IVortemburg clock ticks
| the hours away with true Now \ ork eii
ergy, but up stairs in Miss Russell’s sleep
ing room is a Dutch clock which she an
nounces as ’ ‘slow as Philadelphia,” but a
“nice clock to get up by.” Ibe walls are
crowded with photographs, French water
oolors and some little blue prints of the
house itself. The t rass bead is bung with
blue silk and oriental lace strewn with
diminutive silken ponpons. Lounging
i chairs, and divans, a table covered with a
lavish supply of artists’ materials do nqt
crowd the large room. Upon an escritoire
lies an open letter.
"A love letter!”
“ Read it." And here it is.
Yonkers, Aug. —.
Mv Dear Ma'lA—l am happy and haWn? a
nice lime. lam well. I went out driving this
morning and drove all the way home. I have a
nice little broom to play witn. I never cry to
go home because lain so happy —so goo 1 bye.
I am Daughter Russei.u
The boudoir is not a boudoir in the ordi
nary sense. It is more properly a work
room. In it is a second piano, and in it
Lillian Russell lives up to her reputation of
hard work. In the bath room, of which
we catch a glimpse in passing, the stained
glass of the window repeats itself in a mir
ror, nnd a faint odor of violets reminds one
of the adjuncts of the toilette.
I said a "mirror,” did I not? And as I
write it occurs to me that perhaps as strik
ing a thing as any about the home is this
that so beautiful a woman should be con
tent with so few mirrors.
Queer—is it not!
Johanna Staats.
ANNIE MANGER'S ODD STORY.
Sba Saya She Mat o.i the .-trret a Man
She Saw in a Coffin.
From the New York World.
Louis Manger lives at No. £29 Lorimer
street, Williamsburg. His family com
prises his wife and two daughters. The
youngest of these, Annie, is 16 years of age.
She is an exceedingly pretty girl of the ex
treme blonde type.
Annie’s bedroom is on the second floor of
the house in the front. Here Is a big closet,
in wbioh sho keopß her wardrobe.
On Saturday afternoon the family were
away from home. On their return they
found that someone had entered the house
and stolen two gold necklets and three gold
rings. The jewelry was taken from a room
in the rear of the house.
Annie, on hearing that burglars had been
at work, rau to her room to see if they bad
visited ber apartment, she came down-stairs
in a few moment* witn a very white face.
“Mammal'’ sho gasped out. “O,
mamma, they have cut my clothes all to
pieces!”
it was true. The burglars had ripped
and cut to shreds unless than twenty-one
gowns.
Mr. Manger reported his loss to the po
lice. Detectives ure trying to find the bur
glars
This is but o portion of the story. A re
porter called at the house last night. He
found Annie, pale au<l nervous, in the par
lor with her mother aud sister.
“I attended the South First Street M. E.
church,” said the girl “About a year ago
one Sunday eveniug, one of the young la
dies of the congregation introduced me to
a young man, who said his name was
George Smith, He saw me home from
ohuroh and was very attentive to me. He
asked permission to call. I told him that
mamma did notallow me to bavecompany,
as I was too young.
“ After that I was haunted by Mr. Smith.
If 1 went oat on the street he seemed to
spring out of doorways and corners. If 1
went to any place of amusement he seemed
to bo there. He turnod up in all manner
aud kinds of odd times and places. At first
I liked him, but his persistence and the
mysterious way that ho had of appearing
when I wasn’t looking for him at length
soared me aud I gut to dread and dislike
him.
“Whenever he had a chance he was
always telling how much he cared for mo
and imploring me to run away with him.
I told my father and mother. Father tried
to catch him again aud again, but hoeeeiued
clover ouough to evade him. The worry of
all this made me sick and nervous.
“The young lady who introduced me to
him said that sho had been introduced to
him in a casual way and did not know who
ho was or whore ho came from. I and
others tried to fix his identity but failed.
“Things went on like this uutil last win
ter. Late one night a good-looking, well
dressed girl made her appearance at our
boose and asked for me. She seemed to lie
much upset and was crying. When I made
my appearauce she tola me that George
Smith was dead. He had died suddenly of
heart disease, and his lust words were that
be desired that I should see him in his coffin.
She further told mo that she was his sister.
“After a good deal of urging on her part I
consented to go with ber to the house where
the body lay. This woe No. 269 South First
street. There, sure enough, in a coffin lay
George Smith. The only poople present be
sides myself and guide were four young
men, who seemed to be a quartette. While
I was there they sang a hymn or two.
There were flowers ou the body. I touched
the cheek of the dead roan with my Huger;
it was cold as ice.
“In spite of the way that Smith had tor
mented me, I felt very sorry. I was nerv
ous and ill for some days after, but fiually
nearly forgot all about the matter.
“Two months ago I was walking along
Graud street. Somebody stepped right m
front of me and took off his hat. I looked
up, and. to mv horror, saw that it was the
man whom I had last seea lying ia his
coffin.
“I fainted right there. When I came to
be had gone. The next day I again met
him. This time ray curiosity mastered my
fear and I asked him what it all meant. He
replied:
“ ‘I loved you too much to remain dead.
I have come hack to life to marry you. I
couldu’t stop in my grave, you know.’
“I know,” the girl onttnued, “that you
will think that I am either mad or lying.
But I have reoent letters from the man in
which he speaks of this ‘resurrection’ of his.
Hero they are.”
The letters wero written in a boyish hand.
The writer spoke of his patience and un
dying love and of his empty grave.
“A week or so ago.” continued the girl,
“he again met me. This time I was fright
ened and exasperated. I told him that I
hated him. Whereupou he said, ‘I am capa
ble of much more than you know of. I will
certainly be revenged on you. I’ll begin In a
mild way aud then end up by burning you
and your house up.’ The next thing I know
my clothes had been cut to pieces. O, I
am sure it is he that is tormenting me to
death.” And here poor Annie broke down.
The reporter was shown the drosses.
There was a big pile of them. A knife had
been used in some oases, scissors in others.
On the floor of the room was found this
note, written iu pencil:
Shorty: I don’t believe you better do it.
Reusaler is soft on her yet. He savs he will
break your back if you touch anything of hers;
so f you want to do it without his help I ain't
with you. Frank Swift.
Annie said that someone had told her on
one ocsasion that “Smith’s” name was
Henstaler. But who ltenssaler was she
oould Dot say.
No. 207 South First street is a three-story
brick house. It was closed last night.
Everybody Knows
That at this season the blood is filled with
impurities, the aooummulation of mouths of
close confinement iu poorly ventilated stores,
workshop* and tenements. All these im
purities and every trace of scrofula, salt
rheum, or other diseases may be expelled by
taking Hood's Sarsaparilla, the best bloocl
purifier ever produoed. It is the only med
icine of which “100 doses one dollar” is true.
-Ad.
THE MORNING NEWS: SUNDAY, AUGUST 23,1891-TWELVE PAGES.
BAB'S SUMMER MAIL.
SISTERLY AFPEALB TO HE3 FOR
HELP.
Women Who are all Ambitious to Be
come Jcurnallsta—lnfluecce in Poli
tico May Count, but Brains the Only
"Puli" in Journalism—Tha News
paper cf To-day a Powerful Mirror—
A Group of Women Journalists Hold
an Experience Meeting—One or
Them Wrote an Art’cle “Funny
Enough to Kill” While Holding Her
Dying Husband’s Hand.
(Copyright 1891.)
In a New England Farm House, Aug.
22,1891. —Once in a while there comes a
dull, gloomy sort of a day, and you con
clude that you are going to answer all your
letters. It seems a day eminently adapted
to pouring ink on paper. You are more or
less relieved yourself by this operation, and
you aro apt to come out of it as bright and
chery as the sunshine, which, after all, is
behind the clouds. During the long sum
mer days there have been a good many let
ters coming to me; letters that wore pitiful,
letters over which I grow sad, aud yet they
were letters from people whom I could not
assist. They were all letters from women
who wanted to make money with their pons,
and they all said, “Won’t you use your in
fluence to help me?” Now, my friends, in
politics influence may moan a groat deal;
in newspaper work it is absolutely nothing.
You may come with a letter of introduc
tion from the Czar of Russia. You may
then he asked to write a letter on Rus ia,
and, if it turns out to boa poor one, you
will never be asked to write another one for
that paper, even if the grand high mogul of
the laud of China should be your hacker.
A so-called “puli” in newspaper offices usu
ally means that you do work that suits
them, that you are ou time, and that you
are exact.
GIVE US PERFECT ENGLISH.
These women who have written to me
say they can write beautiful descriptive
articles. Dear! dear I When wo want per
fect English—when wo want magnificent
word-pictures —we go to books, and we
don’t look for landscapes in high oolors or
in water colors in newspapers: wo only look
for etchings in black and white. Tbe news
paper of to-day Is a looking-glass; it reflects
what is going on, and makes the reflection
In tbe clearest and most refined manner,
the good newspaper seldom aiding to or
taking from the truth; consequently mar
velous word-pictures about nothing aro not
cared for. But what is cared for is an ac
curate description of something that is
novel; an accurate account of something
curious that is going on in your part of the
country, or even a reotpe for taking
spots off a man’s coat, or best of all,
an occasional suggestion as to how to cure
yourself of your faults.
THE FOREIGN WOMAN AND HER SPORTING
NOVEL.
Sometimes answering letters is very un
satisfactory work. One of the women who
wrote to me told me she would do anything
to earn a little money. I wrote to her and
advised her to write a little description of
some of the curious customs of her country,
for she was a foreigner, or some little inci
dent in the life of the royal personages near
whom she lived, or a litttle story that I had
heard her tell of a famous ghost that
walked in ber neighborhood. Did she do
any of these? Certainly not; she sent back
word she couldn’t consider such trifles aud
what she proposed to do was to write a
sportiug novel! I hope Bbe has gotten some
money for it—but I doubt it very much.
When will women learn that even to get a
diamond you have to stoop down—it is truo
you rise up afterward with your prize in
your baud, but everything in this world
that is worth having requires work, aud
hard work; requires either a mental or a
physical bending of the back.
WOMEN JOURNALISTS RELATING THEIR
PAST EXPERIENCES.
I heard four woman who wrote talking
the other day, and perhaps what they said
will convince the lady who failed in dress
making and housekeeping that all is uot
gold that glitters in the way of newspaper
work. They were talking about the hardest
work they ever had to do. One of them,
a bright western woman, said: “Last year
year my husband lost his position; he is a
very delicate man, and the railroad com
pany that invited him to leave knew when
they did this that his chance for getting a
place in some other office was very doubt
ful; he oame home to me with the news, and
after I had consoled him and male him feel
that things wore brighter than they looked,
he went to the door and got the evening
mail from out tho letter box. The first let
ter that I opened told mo tbut my services
were no longer required on a paper which
had formed the greater part of my income.
Understand, they didn’t object to my work,
it was only that duriug tho summer months
they had concluded to olose up that depart
ment. I thought I bhould faint, but I
didn’t; I laughed, tore up that letter, made
some light remark about it that didn’t hint
at Us contents.
There is another letter that says the
woman has tried to boa dressmaker, lias
tried to keep house, and is “afraid she will
have to take to writing.” She speaks of
this ns if it were the easiest thing in tbs
world, and the most despicable; sho speaks
of it as if all she had to do was to walk into
a nowspaper office, demand tho salary of a
managing editor, write when she felt like it,
and live iu luxury ever after.
And opened tho next one.
SHE CREATED A DETECTIVE STORY IX A
NIGHT.
This was a request from an oditor that I
would writo him such a thrilling detective
storr as he said only I oould writo. He
wanted it by the uoxt day. I sat down and
began to write. The prospect was not
cheerful; husband without a situation, aid
me with S3O a woek right ont of my pocket.
I never knew how I wrote that story, and
I don’t think anybody oan blame me if I
made the villain an editor. I worked all
night over it, and when the morning came
I sent it down to the people who had asked
for it. The days were mighty gloomy after
that, but the detective story caugbt on,
aud those people employod me regularly,
and when the fall came, the other news -
paper wanted me back. What's that some
body said l then. I would not have gou6 i
Oh, yes. you would, when it meant S3O a
week, and you had an invalid husband. I
tell you none of us know what we will do
until tho time comas, but I shall nevor for
got that long, long night, as I sat writing
that story. I couldn't think of the st >ry
itself, I could only think of my trogble, and
though 1 have laughed a good bit about
religion, I give you my fc-ord that I shall
always believe that that story was written
for me by some angel, that it was simply
my hand that hold the pea, and her that
told it what to say.”
“My hardest hour,” said a small woman,
whose newspaper work is known far and
wide, “I’ll tell it to you.
MY HUSBAND WAS DYING,
lie was 28 years old and I was 19, and we
were strangers in a strange land. Because
we we were so poor, I had been doing some
old sketches here and there for the news
papers, for gentle people don’t beg; they
wors. 1 was sitting beside the bedside of
my husbaud, expicting every hour tsiat the |
breath would go from his body, when a
messenger came from an office down town
with the request that I would writo them a
funny article of about 1,009 words! I looked
at my husband, and then, God help me, I
looked at my purse, aud I concluded I had
to write that article. So, while the boy
waited, 1 held my dying love’s hand with
my loft one, and wrote with aiy right. Aud '
wrote a funny article. I was auout an hour '
and a half doing it, and when I think of it '
now I see those two dark brown eyes look- -
ing at me in an inquiring way; I see that
messenger boy waiting, with an expression
that was half curiosity, half sympathy on
hit face, and I see myself with tears rolling
down my face, working out the funny ar
ticle, Weeks after that, when I was all
draped in mourning, and the man I loved
slept that qutai.Bleep which knows no pres
ent awakening, I met the editor of the pa
per, and be said to me, ‘That article of
ypurs was tunny oa iugti to kill,’ and I said,
'vVas it? Well, it nearly did.’ But to this
day he dosen’t know under what circum
stances it was written, aud the $25 that I
got for it went to help get a resting place
for tbe one I loved.”
Tho other woman said: “My writing days
are all sad ones, and yet they toil me, anil I
know the
CHILDREN ALL OVER THE COUNTRY
LAUGH
at my merry versos, and are happy in the
fairy talas I write fur them. You kDow
what Ido it fer.” And they all did. They
knew that far up in the penitentiary, think
of it, was a young man who in a foolish,
rally quarrel had struck bis friend, and
struck him almost unto death, who was
sentenced to stay where he was for twenty
years; who would tie an old man when he
came out, for prison life doesn't keep men
young. This one woman, working and sav
ing, intended to have money enough when
her brother came out for them to go to a
new place, among now people, where his
past could never be thrown up to him, and
where their old days at least might be spent
in peace and contentment.
I have told this little story because I want
Hie women who write m that idle frivolous
i+ay about gaums* i£ork for the newspapers
to rea’ize that the woman who tells you all
about the fas' ions isn’t of necessity a mere
butterfly herself, that she isn’t of necessity
doing'thls work for pleasure, and that nine
out of overy ten women who are working
fur newspapers have somebody else to caro
for besides themselves. Take pleasure in
their work? Of course they do. They
would be poor w orkers If they didn’t.
THE NEWSPAPER OFFICE A SCHOOL ROOM.
And yet they are in a school in which
they learn somethingtevery day. They learn,
sadly enough, that what suits one editor
doesn’t suit another. They learn, gladly
enough, that the average now6paper editor
boa discovered that encouragement is the
best incentive to good work from women.
They learn that to be successful they must
feel the pulse of the people, and they learu,
too, that the womanliness of their work is
what makes it valuable. Remember wo
manliness and weakness are not synony
mous. Bat when an editor wants au article
from a woman he prelors it should bear the
stamp of her sex, because he is pretty sure
then that mo i will enjoy reading it. It is a
school, too, where women get to know how
good men are. In all work there are had
men and bad womou, but from personal ex
perience I would like to say that I think
there are more kind men, more sympathetic
men, more generous men and more good
men among the newspaper fraternity than
in any other profession. They sea so much
of life that they can sympathize with a real
sorrow; they see so much of weakness that
they can think of the temptation as well as
the sin; and with it all, they see so much of
joy, that they have a ready laugh for the
jest and a sincere hope for whoever is going
to have a good time.
“BAB” IS GRATEFUL TO THE FRATERNITY.
Prejudiced? I am. Ia favor of the news
paper man. Personally, I only ask one
favor of him. It is a sort of a twin favor.
First, that while lam alive, he won’t find
fault with me because I like him so much;
and next, that when I am dead he will re
frain from writing an obituary about me.
If he will only say tbe good things about
me while lam alive, I shall be satisfied. I
want tbe sweetness from the alabaster box
while I am here and can appreciate it, and
not when I am cold aud still and unhearing.
But I can’t complain. He has been good to
me, aud I thami him with all my heart, as
he is all this world over, from Texas to
Maine, from San Francisco to New York;
whether he is editor or reporter, printer’s
devil or proofreader, be has been good to
me, aud Hike him.
“POVE IS IMMORTAL!”
Don’t you like the people who like you?
The dog that licks your hand, the friends
who greet you warmly, and the little child
ren who gather around you, because they
love you so?
Dou’t you like the people who like you?
Tho father who sees himself iu you, the
mother who bore you, tho sister who cares
for you, and tho sweetheart who loves you!
Don’t you like the people who like you*
The comrnde who is always ready to go
with you, the friend who is considerate
enough to remember the book that you will
enjoy, or the neighbor who remembers just
what you like to eat, and sends it to you
when you ijome home?
Of course, we all liko the people who like
us. We would be an ungrateful lot of don
keys if we didn’t, and that’s why I want the
newspaper man to like me—though he may
be looking up tho state of Blaine's health at
Bar Harbor—though he mav be inquiring
into the customs affairs at El Paso—though
he may bo investigating a will contest in
San Frauoiscj—or getting his newpaper
indicted for something in New York—there
is nobody who likes him more than
Bab.
LITTLE’JEAN WAS HUNGRY.
So He Wanted to Write and Ask the
Holy Virgin for Some fcoup.
From the French of Paul Favet.
Six years old; breeches broken at the
knees; hair blonde, curly, so rich and thick
it would have coiffed the heads of two pretty
ladies; two great blue eyes that still tried
to Bmilo a little, though they had criod so
much; a jacket well cut, but falling to
rags; a girl’s shoe on one foot, a boy’s boot
on the other; both shoe and boot too wide
and to i long, turned at the toe and lacking
in heels behind —this was Jean.
Little Jean, so cold and hungry this
winter evening, who had eaten nothing
since noon of the day before, and who had
finally decided to write to the Virgin. And
how, Bay you, did Jean, who no more knew
bow to write then he know how to read,
arrange this letter?
Listen, for it ia that which I am going to
tell you.
Below there, in the quarter of the Gros-
Cailliou, at the corner of the avenue not
far from tho Esplanade, there was a shop,
in tho days I tell of, of a public writer; for
in those days also there were so many
claims and petitions to be made to the gov
ernment, and so rntifly poople, like Jean,
that did not know to write.
And the writer that kopt this shop was
an old soldier far on iu years, a brave mao,
but a little testy, wfco was anything but
rich, and had the afLlWonal misfortune of
not being sufficiently chopped to nieces to
Secure admission to tho Hotel.des Ir.valides.
Jean, without prying at all, bad many
times s '.3n him thru ugh the dingy glasses of
bis little cubbyhole smoking his pipe and
awaiting customers,and so ito-day be en
tered fearlesdy with a civil —
‘kSuod-day, monsieur. I have como, if
you please, for you to write me a letter.”
“Ten sous, Uttle one.” Pere Ilonin re
sounded, gazing over his spectacles at the
midget b .-lore him.
Jean had no cap, and wns therefore un
able to lift it, but Lra said very politely:
“Thou excuse mo!I*and 1 *and he turned to re
open the door.
But, pleased with his manners, Pere
Bonin stopped him.
“Stay!” siid he; “toll me first, littlo one,
it you are tho sou of a soldier.”
“Oh, no!” said Jean, “only mamma’s son,
and she’s all alone.”
“I see, said the writer, “and you have not
tho ton sous?”
“No, no sous at all.” said Joan.
“Nor thy mother either, ’tis plain to be
seea! And thy letter, little one—is it to
make tho soup come ?”
“Yei,” said Jean, “exactly.”
“Advance, then. Tea lines on a half
sheet. One Is never too poor for that!”
And Pcro Bonin spreid out his paper,
dipped his pon iu tbs ink, and wrote at the
top of the page, in Rie beautiful haua of the
quartermaster that once be had been;
Paris, Jau. 17,188—.
Then a Uttle lower;
To Monsieur
“Well, go on,” said he. “How do you
call him. baby*”
“Who?” demanded Jean.
"Parbleu! the gaatlonoan.”
“What gentleman, monsieur?”
“The one to make tbe soup come.”
Jean this time comprehended.
“Hut it isn’t a gentleman,” said he.
“Ah! bail! a lady, then?”
“Yes—no—that is ”
“Name of names! midget,” Pere Bonin
cried; “don’t you know whom you are go
iDg to write a letter to F*
“Oh, yes,” said tbe child.
“Out witn it, thou, quick! I can’t wait
all day!”
But little Jean stood all red and confused.
The fact is, it is not easy as it looks to ad
dress one's self to public writers for corre
spondence* of thie kind, but Jean was brave
and presently answered softly:
“It is to the Holy Virgin that I wish to
send a letter.”
Father Bonin did not laugh—not at all;
he simply wiped and laid aside his pen and
took his pipe from his mouth.
“Kee you. midget!” said he severely, “I
don't want to believe that you mock au old
man; lieeide, you are too small for mo to
trounce. Face about; march. Out you
go!”
Little Jean obeyed and wonderingly
turned heol, or foot rather, Bince heel he had
none: and, seeing him so submissive, Pere
Bonin a second time reconsidered and re
garded him more closely.
“Name of names!” grumbled he, “but
there is misery in this Pans! What do you
call yourself, baby 1”
“ Jean.”
“And what do you wish to say to the
Holy V irgin?”
“To tell her that mamma’s been asleep
since 4 o’clock yesterday aud that I cau’t
wako her up.”
The hkart of tho old soldier suddenly
stood still. He feared to comprehend. He
demanded a#ain.
“But that soup you spoke of awhile
ago?”
“Yes,” said the child, “I know I had to
apeak of it you see, because mamma before
going to sleep yesterday gave me tho last
piece of bread.”
“And what did she eat, pray?”
“Nothing for more than two days—she
always said she wasn’t hungry.”
“And you tried to wake her, say you—
how?”
“As I always do—kissing her.”
“Did she breathe?”
Jean smiled, and that smile made him
beautiful.
“I don’t know,” said he. “Don’t we al
ways breathe?”
Pere Bonin had to hastily turn his head,
for two big tears were rolling down his
cheeks, aad his reply to the child was another
question.
“And when you kissed her,” said ho, “you
noticed nothing strange ?”
“Yes, I did,” said Jean; “how cold sho
was; but£then it’s always 60 cold in our
house. ”
“She shivered, then, your mamma—shiv
ered with the cold?”
“No, she was just cold, but so pretty, her
hands crossed so, her head baok, and her
eyes looked at tho sky.”
'“And 1 wanted riches!” Pere Bonin mur
mured —“I who have enough to eat aud
drink, when here ia out that died of
hunger!”
Aud drawing the child to him he took
him on bts knee and softly began to talk to
him.
“Thy letter, my baby,” said he, 1 ‘is writ
ten .sent aud received. No sr take me to thy
mother.”
“u, yes, I will.but—but why do you cry?”
demanded Jean, astonished.
“But lam not crying, Jean—no,men never
cry! ’Tis you, mv precious, who will soon do
that!”
Than, straining him in bis arms aud cov
ering him with kisses: “I, too, knowgyou,
littlo Jean, ouce had a mother, whom 1 see
even now in her bed, so pale and white, and
sayiDg to me, the image of the Virgin rest
ing at her heed: ’Bonin, my son, be an hon
est man always and always a Christian!’ An
honest man I have been, but a Christian—
ah, damol”
Ha sprang to his foot, the child still bugged
to liis breast, and speakiug as if to one in
visible :
"But now, old mother, now, I say, rest
thon in peace, for thou art going to have
thy way. Friends may laugh and jeer if
they will, but where thou art I wish to go,
nnd there will Ibo led to this preciousaugei
here, who shall never leave me again. His
letter, which was never even written, has
made a double shot—it has given him a
father aad me a heart!”
That is all; this story without end is done.
I know no more save that somewhere iu
Paris to-day there is a man still young, a
writer also, but not as Pere Bonin.
This man is a writer of eloquent things.
His friends still call him “Jean,” as he
called himself, and, though I know not
either tho name of the postman that carries
letters like these, tbov always roach their
destination.
Patienoe Smiled on Payne.
W. V. Payno was for many years a worthy
and excellent teacher of music. When quite a
voung man he was teaching a singing class in a
certain village. Ono member of the class was
a lovely young lady of about 20 years by the
name of Patience Adams. .Mr. Payne was very
much attracted by the young lady, and in due
time, as the attraction was mutual, thoy became
engaged. Soon aftor the time when his atten
tions to Miss Adams bogan to be observed, and
an engagement strongly suspected. It happened
on a singing night, when a fail number was in
attendance, that Mr. Payne without any
thought of the words, named for the opening
exercise the tune “Federal Street,” page ;S of
“Carolina Sacra.” As both Sllss Adams and Mr.
Payne w ere prime favorites with all present, it
will be understood with what good will they alt
sang:
Sec gentle patience smile on pain,
See dying hopes revive again.
The gravity of the young ladies and gentle
men could hardly be maintained until the aud
of tbe hymn, and the blushes of the young lady
and the confusion of tho teacher n.ay be im
agined. The latter, hastily turning the leaves
of the book, while his cheeks turned a deeper
red, and. without a thought of what ho was
doing, announced ‘‘Dundee,’’ page 123. It was
sung as soon os order was restored, but the
climax came with the last lines:
Let not despair nor fell revenge
lie to my bosom known:
O, give me tears for others' woes
And patience for my own.
In a few months after they were married, and
then gentle Patience smiled on Payne, aud
Payne had Patience for his own.
COUSHTS.
Never broken
—Kabo. The “bones” in the
Kabo corset are made of it
—warranted for a year, too.
It’s a corset you can wear
a few weeks, and then get
your money back if it
doesn’t suit.
But it’s pretty sure to suit
— —|- 7 .1 1
A. R ALTMAYER & CO
EDUCATION AL.
ffiAGIES WofT ISfIW
Homs School for Yoang Ladies,
DECATUR, GA.
Six m : les east of Atlanta on Georgia railroad.
Fall session commenced SEPT. 3, 1891. Un
excelled for beauty and healthfulnesa of loca
tion. Complete modern building, thorough
equipment and all other requisite* of a first
class sohooi. Full corps of competent and ex
perienced teachers. Board an t Tuition in liter
ary department S2OO per annum.
For catalosrue, etc., address
H. J. WILLIAMS, Sec y and Traas ,
Decatur. Ga.
New Eiglaifl ConsemtlY
~ Founded by Dr. E. Tourjke. >
CARL FAELTEW, Director.
B 2 8 Instruction in Piano, Or*an, Voice,
S“3 iy i> a V Violin, Solfeggio. Harmony, Etc.
Class Tuition, to lessons, 51C t0. : 30. Private iesson3
given. Recitals, Lectures, to all
C hcral and ()rchestral Practice ■* Ko Ben pupils.
ELOCUTlOW—Oratory, Dramatic and Lyric
Action, l ine Arts, Language*. Literature, Piano
and Organ Tuning. A comfortable Bdi *** |Oj?? C?
for Lady Students. Calendar free. n sWSwiSI
Full Term IScgla* Kept. 10 1801.
FRANK W. HALE, Cenoral fAanager<
Franklin Square, Boston, Mugc.
Hollins institute, Virginia.—The 4uth
session will open Sept. 16th, 1631. Eclectic
courses of Btudj r in Lanfruaffes. Literature,
Science, Music, Art, Elocution, etc., are pro
vided under hijch standards—with fine facilities
and superior mauaeaient. The equipment is
ample and comfortable. The locality 1.300 feet
above the sea level, enjoys the advantages of
mineral waters, mountain scenery aud solubri
ous climate. Eight male professors and 20 ladie*
constitute the Board of Instruction and Gov
ernment. CHAS. L. COCKE. Supt, CHAS. H.
COCKE, Bus. Mgr. P. O. Hollins, Va.
f- —-v*-- r* ATT RrnoOL. A Xllltary
03'TL">. < .Institute for Boys ft YotuiKMcn.
I Full College b ourse of Study,
j Complete Creperatory Coum\
f& I Thorough course in Ciyil Eag
-1 A fi neoring. Full eonimorciMl course.
\ JS. f j Resident Burg-ema. No charyo
L w / K for medical attention. Cor
i ; cot i’ancl. Irstruction i* ii u.-io
' an d Art. Practical course inTo
v*■—vijs—— Klogmphy. Very low rates. For
f 1 cL- r<~. / 2 Kegieter, with terms and o&rtte
r 1 I *ularn, address'd. A. C.,‘i>ttvU #
V * \Vfnsto y N.C
jooatioa famoua for Beauty and UtalLa.
St. Mary’s School,
RALEIGH, N. C.
The Advent Term Begins Sept. 24.
Ml Pleasant Military Academy,
SING SING. NEW YORK.
The 57th year of this well-known school be
gins on SEPTEMBER 16. All supplies pro
vided, a beautiful borne and every facility for
an excellent education.
Address: J. HOWE ALLEN. Principal^
Virginia Female Institute
STAUNTONJA."" SS. feyii. B™' 8 ™'
Tho fall session opens Sept. 17,1391. Best ad
vantages in every department, with every home
comfort and admirable care. For full particu
lars os to terms, etc.. apply to the principal.
SAN IT AH X PLU M BING.
SALOONKEEPERS
Are respectfully invited to
call at the •
Saraial Pliiiai Cos,,
150 BROUGHTON STREET,
AND EXAMINE THE
Champion Hydraulic Air Compressor,
The best BEER PUMP on
the market. It is indispensi
ble to every retailer of keg
beer.
It saves its cost every
month.
If you cannot call, drop us
a postal and we will visi
you-
-
ICE! iCE!~TceT
Tie Savannah Crystal Ice Comp y.
Is now manufacturing as pure Ice as one would
desire, and our factory bsing in the Central
railroad yard we can furnish carload lots as
cheap aa the cheapest. Writ© us lor prices be
fore purchasing elsewhere.
We are not iii any combine, nor do we pro
fDßc doing so. All we ask is a share of the pub
ic patronage.
Our prices aro at the factory. 25c. per hun
dred pounds; 50 pouuds and upward delivered
to any part of the ciiy, 40c. per hundred pounds.
Write for quotations on carload lots.
Telephone 530.
CHARLES A. DRAYTON.
Manager.
SHIPPING.
BEAUFORT, PORT ROYALS*. BLUFFTON, S. c 7
STEAMER ALPHA, H A. STBOJJHAR,
Will leave every Tuesday aud Thursday, at
11 o'clock a. m,, returning every Wednesday
and Friday. No freight received after iu:3d a.
m on Batiin,r days
Special trips Cos Blufftcn evory Saturday after
noon at 4 o’clock, returning Monday at Da. n.
For further information, apply o
C. H. MEDLOCK. agent. Katie’s wharf.
FOR DARIEN, BRUNSWICK
ADd Intermediate Points. STR. BELLEVUE.
Leaving Savannah Tuesdays and Fridays at 5
p. M.; returning, leave Brunswick Wednesdays
and Saturdays 3p. s:.; lenvo Darien Wednesdays
and Saturdays "p. arrive Savannah Thurs
days and Sundays Ba. m. For any informa
tion apply to W. T. GIBSON. Manager, Ethel's
Wharf.
VKURT ABX.ES FEU ITS. ETC.
SEE D==
GEORGIA SEED RYE.
RED RUST PROOF TEXAS
SEED OATS,
HAY, GRAIN AND FEED,
CABBAGE, ONIONS. PO
TATOES, PEANUTS,
FRUITS AND VEGETABLES.
W. D. SI MKI l\i S.
PLUMBER.
FINK OINK OB’ ~
GAS FIXTURES ID GLOBES
AT
L. A. MCCARTHY’S,
46 DBAYTON BT.
SHOES.
MS i II
Moasy is what we’re after,
So let her go.
On our BARGAIN TABLE wo
have a lot of ODD
SIZES of
SUMMER GOODS
And have determined that
prices shall not stand in the
way of their gale;
accordingly we
make this
IIiIHIT
For the remainder of this
month we will sell them for
100 per cent less than regu
lar (or exactly one -half)
price. Each pair is war
ranted to give perfect wear,
or we will refund the price
paid.
Gloli# lot Slot#,
169 BROUGHTON ST.
FIX) U K
PUREST and BEST Brand on
This Market.
D. R LESTER GROCERY COMPANY.
21 Whitaker Street.
SUBURBAN RAILWAYS.
Tybee Schedule.
Richmond and Danrillo Railroad Company,
Operating the Central Railroad of Georgia.
TO TAKE EFFECT AUG. 17, 1891.
Leave Savannah (Standard Time) Leave Typeb
♦9:30 am daily 7:10 am daily
H: 10 a m Sunday only *11:05 a m daily
*2:30 p m daily *4:53 p m daily
5:00 pm daily 9:00 pm daily
f:4op m daily
Trains marked thus* carry freight.
On family excursion davs (Tuesdays and Fri
days) the rate will be for round trip, whole
tickets, 35 cents; half tickets, SO cants.
Passengers are required to purchase tickets
who wish the lteneflt of excursion rates.
J. L, TAYLOR, Gen. Pass. Agt.
E. T. CHARLTON, Pass. Agt.
V. E. McBKE, Gen. Supt.
JAW ELB A .
A. L. BESBOUILLW
21 Bull Street.
iDT-A-nvcoisriDs.
CHOICEST STONES AT LOWEST PRICES.
Finest selection of Gents' and Ladies'
Watches.
Jewelry of very best quality and latest de
signs.
Sterling Silverware in elegant cases.
Also a complete line of
Spectacles and Eyeglasses.
Watches, Jewelry and Spectacles repaired by
expert workman. Satisfaction guaranteed.
A. L. Desbouillons,
31 Bull Street.
WHOLESALE GROCERS.
VAN DEVEER 1 HOLMES 7
CELEBRATED
/E CRACKERS
-ABE BEST—
Trade Supplied by
Henry Solomon & Sod.
PAINTERS.
Broiioi Bros-ICoT
DEALERS IN
Paints, Oils. Varnishes, Brushes.
Glass, Etc.
Agents for F. W. DEVOE’S READY MIXED
PAINTS, House, Siam and Decorative Paint
ing. Wall Paper and Interior Decorations.
42 and 44 Barnard Street.
qx> COUNTY OFFICERS.—Books and Plante
A required by county officers for the use of
the courts, or for office use. supplied to order by
the MORNING NEWS PRINTING IiOUB*. *
Whitaker street, fi***aaeh.
