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YOUTH AT OLD HARVARD.
The Harvard Boy an Exact Anitbesis
of Ibc Yale Young Man.
A Swift Creature With Swell Turn
outs—At Least a Hundred of Them
Spend $5,000 a Year, and Some
Dissipate Twice That Amount in the
Same Period—But There Are Poor
Men at Harvard.
Copyright, 1893.
New York, 1 Dec. 2.—“ Sit down, old
chanpie, and make yourself at home."
1 was in the gorgeoup apartments of the
biggest social lion at Harvard? He went
over to a table, and, taking up' a red
stone pipe, from the Hake Superior
region, tilled it with Spanish tobacco, and
invited me to smoke with him. With
profound interest I looked around me.
Those rooms were magnificent! There
were paintings valued at many hundreds
of dollars; there were dream-inviting di
vans.of noticeable beauty and luxury; there
were marbles and bronzes in odd corners;
the chairs, tables, book-shelves and set
tees were of striking designs and in
special designs; in one corner was a
side-board, weighted with costly china
and silver, although by whom used was
a mystery of college life; the fire-place
was of a late construction, adorned with
tiles and mosaics;—in brief it was the
study of a millionaire Harvard youth, in
the rich man’s college.
There was, withal, peeping out here
and there, something grotesque about
the room—something suggestive of the
turf, the cock-pit, the athletic field, the
tistie arena, and young ladies’ seminary!
Objects symbolic of all these depart
ments of human activity were seen strewn
on every hand. There were gilded horse
shoes for the turf; there were colored
prints of dead, dying, and victorious game
cocks: there wore trophies of successful
pigeon shooting and pistol practice:
there were boxing gloves, foils and base
ball muzzles. The genuine Harvard lion
delights, especially, in his pictures of
women—captives on land and sea to his
many charms of person and his numerous
graces of manner. There must have been
fully 200 photographs of handsome girls
decorating the study. These were tacked
on the panels of the doors, scattered,
with lavish hand, on the mahogany
tables, fiung on mantels and stuck in
many nooks and crannies. In a cozy
alcove, designated the “smokeroom,”
was the familiar table of pipes. The rich
student took in his white hands a beauti
ful meerschaum; then he showed me a
humble corncob; then an English bulldog;
there were thirty-six pipes, some of them
fantastically carved, others in chaste,
unique designs.
In all there were five apartments—the
smoke room, the study proper, two bed
chambers, and the bath. The latter was
finished in white marble, the cocks of the
tubs being polished silver plate; the floor
was in marble mosaics: the ceiling was
lumd-painted. The chambers were as
dainty as those of the finest lady in the
land; the walls and ceilings were deco
rated in light blue; the bed was of gleam
ing brass, peeping out.from beneath a can
op.vof figured blue silk, the floor was in
polished oak, upon which a large rug in
subdued colors had been spread. The
toilet articles were of silver, and were
numerous enough to occupy a whole table
by themselves. In an oak cabinet, with
plate glass i doors, were the boots and
shoes, arranged so that the largest gear
was at one end of the lowest shelf, the
next pair being a trifle smaller, the next
smaller, and so on, until, on the top par
tition. were half a dozen slippers in
various colors. The polish on the hoots
and shoes akin in glory to the rising sun,
showing that the valet or groom under
stood liis business thoroughly. While I
was looking about the student touched
the electric boll, and, to the servant who
responded, said: “Go, bring us a bottle of
champagne.”
To anyone who says this a fancy
picture, I will respond that the half has
not been told! To mention, on the other
hand, the name of the most aristocratic
inan in Harvard would be to do a glar
ing injustice to a hundred good fellows,
each of whom is in the same gilded cir
cle. each of whom spends money like
water, keeps his private groom, lias his
private traps to ride up and down the
highways and byways of venerable Cam
bridge, and each of whom lias a dozen
claims to social sporting, athletic, or
scholastic honors. Then, besides, it
might make trouble for the boys with
some gruff old guardian who would cut
down allowances. The fact is, if there
be three men in Yale who spend three
thousand dollars a year, there are a hun
dred fellows in Harvard who dissipate
live thousand; and there are unquestion
ably students there whose expenses ap
proximate between eight and ten thousand
if liars for the college year of nine
months! “If you say that." said a man.
‘ the chances are that .you are making a
mistake.” Let us see how this may be:
It costs $8 a week to keep s horse in Cam
bridge. There are many fellows, of the
rich set, who have from two to four
horses, for driving and polo playing. I
know of at least two'men there who stable
six horses. Two others have a string
of runners, which take part, in the racing
season, in the pony contests outside New
I ork. I know two men at Harvard who
recently lost at the wheel, in one night,
the one S3OO, the other $-100 and upwards.
Wine suppers cost a good deal, and so do
excursions from Boston to New York;
it is no uncommon circumstance for a
full-blooded Harvard man to fling away
, lus time and his dollars in both for half a
dorcu nights, to say nothing of the
fifteen friends who enjoy his enter
t mment. The supply rooms of
Harvard, of the bettor class, cost from
to S9OO a .term of nine months. This
looks like a high figure, but it is fair
enough, considering the lavish conveii
-I(,nccs; the gas, the electricity, the sump
■ '"Us baths, tlie train(>d service, and the
atmosphere of swelldom that pervades
tbc.so select halls, patronized by the
ciliied aristocracy. Another significant
11 cm in a Harvard man's bills is the large
number of flowers he gives to the pretty
-ir* s over in Boston, and in New York, to
" hi' h distant point he is accustomed to
n. ike frequent rapid flights. Take these
accounts, in consideration with a dozen
others, such as losses at cards, losses at
' ' Bing, losses at dice, and a score of
hruins for wines, cigars, horses, balls.
Parties, receptions, and, leaving tho ordl
running and incidental expenses
a ido entirely, it is not to be wondered at
■ it the lion not infrequently grows des
!" rate and is obliged to summon that tra
-1 'lional relief for bankrupt students in
o l Harvard—tlie “Poco.”
. 1 spoke of gambling at Harvard. There
■■ a great deal of betting carried on be-
I"' 1 • n the men. Card games in the rooms
' s ‘i common occurrence at night. A
favorite form of such dissipation is "the
’•'■heel" 'J'he most interesting event of
p stay there was to be present, one
!’;at a college man's <iuarters and
a iv. him bring out a miniature roulette
lay out, and begin business, as lie said,
'hist for fun." 'J’he bets were all for
•urns of a#l or less, hut as time went on,
o' 0 " at this small basis, it astonished me
in ri'c the amount of money that changed
"amis. The man wtio owned the outfit
his rake-off on the "0" and “HO" with
k' eat good grace, and to his credit be it
(' 'led. he declared that lie would spend
| on a supper for tlie crowd later on.
J "is. however, he did not do; the lateness
° llour may have prevented.
ihe way the boys get into trouble
'mi their guardians and parents is this,”
*M ia inert the student to me. The money
loat ls given for expenses is blown in,
you know, and everything charged. Tho
wash-woman's bill is charged; the tail
ors bills are charged; board, lodging,
charged; books, supplies, charged: finally,
however, a day of reckoning must come!
A letter is sent to the’old man," inform
ing him that there are some little inci
dentals that must he met. Of course, he
wants to know what has become of the
regular allowance; if you have nerve
enough to tell him. there is likely to be a
painful scene. But what is he to do? He
pay up and things run along smoothly un
til the next time.”
The smoke of the pipes and cigarettes
fairly obscured the table: the men gath
ered elQser around; the little rat tling ball
continued its monotonous circling: heads
began to ache; there was a cold glitter in
many' an eye; the excitement threw at
least one man in a feverish state, for
directly he passed his hand mechanically
over his brow, and said:
“For God’s sake, why doesn’t someone
open the window!”
Harvard, unlike Yale, is a place of
cliques and clubs. There is a fat, red
book in almost every fellow’s room—the
students are “fellows” asoften as they
are “men.” Should you' ask “Who is
Sawyer?” the Harvard man would tell
his chum to get out the rod book, and
upon examining it would reply: "Saw
yer, why he is a member of the O. K.
club, the 1770’5, the Anti-Treating, and the
Crimson.”
That settles it—Sawyer is a good fel
low. That fat, red book; how many a
student's it has determined with his com
panions ! There are pages, where, it would
be, —indeed, it is, in the college world, at
least, —worth your weight in gold to find
thereon your name enscrollcd. Such a
page is the one devoted to the members of
the “Pore,” or the “Pork.” or, again, the
“Porcclian club,” beyond whose closed
doors, there is nothing, to a Harvard
man. that may compare. In vain I
knocked at the outer gates of the “Pore!”
That big Milwaukee brick building, just
outside the grounds of the college,
was apparently, untenanted, and
certainly was as quiet as the grave,
to all outward appearances. Oc
casionally a student would come to the
door, ring with a peculiar ring, shake
hands with a peculiar mason-like clutch,
and be admitted, while I would be left to
sniff the fresh breezes on the windy cor
ner. From across the street, the pleasing
picture was revealed to me of good fel
lows, lolling at their ease, in the club
windows, smoking cigarettes and chat
ting gaily enough—and that is all I know
of the famous “Pore.”
Although, as a rule, Havard fellows are
free and frank to a degree, and are
simple and unaffectedly human in their
manners and habits, they will, neverthe
less assume an air of mystery' yvhenever
you ask them of the scope or purposes of
their clubs and cliques. I said to a stu
dent: —"I say there, tell me something
about the Pore?” He dismally shook his
head. Nothing daunted, I went on:—
“Well then admit mo to the Hasty Pud
ding?” He regarded me a moment, as
though abashed at my mingled stupidity
and candor, then joined:—“They are
clubs; I will say no more; you will ex
cuse me.”
To give a good picture of life at Har
vard it yvouid be necessary, then, to mas
ter the contents of that formidable red
book! That, in the nature of events,
being impossible, you must accept the
fact, for such it is, that there are here
innumerable rings within rings. Men at
Harvard move in crowds, from the hum
ble “eating club” to the exclusive Greek
letter societies. If a student has a polo
pony it is because his set hay'e ponies; if
he has a “T” cart it is for the same rea
son ; if he spends money it is with his
throng: if he whirls down to Newport,
you may rest assured that he is only one
of a dozen, and that the twelve men all
belong to the same circle, bound together
by ties inexplicable and indissoluble.
As in Yale, there are about twice as
many students as there are dormitories,
the result being tnat the men must, of
necessity, take rooms outside the grounds.
Some of tho boys dwell sumptuously in
Claverly ball and in Beck hall, vvlrtle
others live in private houses, in the or
dinary apartments rented by boarding
house keepers, in which there may be an
old stove, a china pitcher on a washstand.
an old-fashioned bed and a general air of
dingiuess. At night the wind rattled the
panes and tho rats run in the wall, but no
one heeds that; the fire burns brightly
and the lad has a stout heart. It must
not be supposed that all the students are
the petted sons of the wealthy and influ
ential. Far from it! I had a long talk
with one who lias seen many privations in
Harvard; and, were not my lips sealed, I
could tell of the sad and disheartening
circumstances connected with a poor boy’s
honorable struggles for an education.
This man I found living in a rat
ridden place, such as have just alluded to.
He is a fine, manly fellow, with a free,
open countenance, wholesome manners,
and that imperious air of one born an ar
istocrat, who would rather starve than
work. He has entered into many depart
ments of college life, athletic, religious
and social, and has heon well received
everywhere. Yet he is wretchedly poor.
He does his own washing. He has a
typewriter, and ekes out many a chance
dollar by odd jobs from the merchants,
such as copying, letter writing, ete. In
the evening lie acts as an usher in the
theater, and is thus assured of a small
but constant income. When times are
slack he gets work as a hill poster. He
is cheerful, bright and reasonably happy,
and when 1 shook hands with him and
bade him good-by he said, laughingly,
“Well, we shall meet again, some time,
maybe at the white house!” As he is of
the stuff of which presidents are made. I
have at least hopes that his saying will
come to pass.
Tho grandeur, tho exclusiveness of
Claverly Hall, finds its converse in the
humble homes of many a poor student, in
circumstances much akin to those of the
brave boy to whom I have just referred,
of whom clinging memories will endure
these many days to come. There is a
story that Frank Holies, secretary of
Harvard, likes to tell, as to student ex
penses, offsetting the popular notion that
Harvard is a “rich man’s college.” It is
a rich man’s college to those who have
wealth, and many such there be within
its classic halls. But that a poor boy has
a chance there, Mr. Holies is fully con
viqped. The most strikingcase under his
observation he gives as follows:
“I will te l you the factsabout a student
who graduated here, with honor, re
cently,” said the Harvard secretary.
“Here is the written testimony of the
roan himself. I will read it to you; the
student says:
“‘I entered Harvard with so poor a
record that I received the maximum of
i onditions. Prof. Briggs afterward told
mo that 1 was admitted because I came
from anew school, and was recommended
as a faithful student. I had to take ex
tra work, although I found the regular
course quite sufficient. *
“‘1 had to rely on in.vself entirely, to
meet the expenses of my course. 1 was
sll6 in debt! When I left home, I had
44 cents, so that my actual indebtness
was $115.56. I was a stranger in Cam
bridge. The first day I spent all but 9
cents. I had one great help in the first
year. From the Price Greenleaf Aid,
$250 had been awarded me. This, how
ever, I could not draw until Christmas.
In order io buy my books to begin my
works, I pawned m.v watch and a few
other things, receiving for the same
$15.50. During my first year my receipts
were:
RECEIPTS, first year.
Price Qreenleaf Aid $250 00
Pawned watch, etc 15 59
Typewriting... 71 40
Hooks sold 7 50
Tutoring 1 69
Total • • 03
EXPENMTtTHEB, SAME YEAR.
For tuition $l5O 00
Boom rent 50 00
THE MORNING NEWS: SEND AY, DECEMBER 3. 1 SOB.
LUht 5 m
Books 21 Cl
Clothes 15 oo
Board 140 (X)
Tola! (*.i 3i
“ ’ln addition to the above I spent $5*.90,
making toy debt for the years #94.21.
Part of this easou 1 was very poor. My
washing I did myself. About midyear. I
was so short money that for nearly
two months 1 ate but one meal a day.
This was the hardest period of my course.
It rather incited than discouraged me.
“ ‘During the summer I worked as a
porter at a hotel. I strained myself
badly, but cleared SIS I I entered my
second year $91.77 in debt. My receipts
were this year:
RECEIPTS SECOND YEAIt.
I.oan fund $73 00
Beneficiary fund 80 00
Special laboratory work, taking sheeps’
l ruins from skulls, for Professor
.lames 4 r-o
Waiting on table 3s 33
Typewriting to 00
Outside jobs 52 15
Total |345 48
The necessary college expenses amount
ed to these sums: Tuition, $160; room.
$45.50; board at Foxcroft. #911.4:1; clothes
and washing, $29.20; furniture, $24.25;
books. $19.10; total, *361.54.
“ ‘My expenses this year were higher
than necessary. I bought many books I
did not need. I might hare saved S2O
by hiring my furniture from the Loan
Furniture Association. In addition to
the necessary books, I expended $151.00
on athletics, theater, unnecessary
books, subscription to college
sports, charity and other interests.
So m.y total expense was *513.60. During
the summer, I earned above my expenses
$158.04. Thus I increased my debt $9.02.
I entered my third year at Harvard slOl.-
31 in debt. Duriug this year my income
was as follows:
RECEIPTS THIRD TEAR.
Scholarship $ 150 00
I.oan fund 90 00
Beneficiary fund 80 00
Oild jobs 7 1.3
Publishing placards is 10
Advertising scheme 106 03
Tutoring 267 50
Typewriting 32 16
Professor James’work. .. 2 45
Waiting on table 16 11
Total * 769 53
“ ‘During the year I bought a typewriter,
for which I paid SIOO. I also contributed
toward the expense of some other fellows,
poorer than I, SIOO. For incidentals, 1
spent $85.60. Then my actual expenditure
for the year was $680.74. Duriug the sum
mer I clerked and earned, above my ex
penses, $100.50. I bought a good many
books, and so saved less than previously.
I entered my last year with $7.90 cash on
hand. This year my receipts were:
RECEIPTS, FOURTH YEAR.
Loan fund $ 75 00
Beneficiary fund .... 20 00
Odd jobs is 99
Copying 24 50
Tutoring •. 430 00
Advertising scheme 72 39
Teaching school, substituting in a
Cambridge school for a friend 11 00
Publishing notes 24 00
Publishing books 225 00
Typewriting 107 43
Total *1.021 21
“ ’I spread class day at an expense of
SIOO. I gave $l5O towards othor students’
expenses. I hired a piano during the
year, and added many oooks to my
library. My incidentals amounted to
$149 60. My expenses for the year were
#612 40. I graduated from college with
$266 70. 1 owed the college $225. 1 saved
during the year $258 80. I was now more
than out of debt, and had on hand sll 70.
“ ‘I bad bougfit a typewriter, increased
my library by over 300 volumes, bought
many useful articles, taken part in many
branches of college life —social, athletic,
literary and religions. I played on ono
’Varsity team and on my class team in
another sport. I found many openings
for work for Other fellows. Had 1 been
able to do all I found to do I should have
made a good salary. I only triod to earn
enough to get through.
“ ‘I graduated from my class cum laude
and with courses to spare. 1 also had
honorable mention in one study. My
health, when 1 entered, was very poor.
I left college strong in body, better than
at any time in ten years. To sum up, my
total expenses in Harvard, for four years,
were $1,6011.79. To my second year is ai
fair estimate of what is actually .neces
sary. I think, if any fellow wishes, he
could save #2O on furniture and $lO on
books. Moreover, I paid more for my
room than was necessary. 1 have no hesi
tation in saying that an economical stu
dent, taking ail vantage of all the college
helps, such as the loan association, liter
ary. Foxcroft club, and Young Men’s
Christian Association, can get through
honorably and happily for SSOO a year!’ ”
Early in the morning the students at
Harvard, or a fair proportion of them,
may be seen slowly pacing towards their
dining hall. At the entrance, many stop
to buy a morning paper, which they
glance over while they are eating. From
a clerk at the desk, before they enter,
they receive a small card, which bears
these words:
ITarvard Dining Association,
December 3. '93.
Breakfast.
Tlie distinction of clubsnnd cliques con
fronts one even at breakfast. I called on
Harvard’s famous athlete and foot ball
captain, Waters, and found him in bed.
He is the man who lias made a pack-horse
of himself, to withstand tneshocks of the
foot hall field. He is a big, manly fellow,
but as soon as I engaged him in conversa
tion. he replied: “Well, now. 1 will have
to hurry away to the training table,”
which meant, as 1 learned afterwards,
that he was dieting himself and ate with
the athletic crowd.
In the association dinning hall, it is
amusing to note the fashion in which tlie
eternal idea of the clique manifests it
self. Those who do not belong to a crowd
sit twelve at a table. Those who are of
a crowd sit thirteen! The Harvard man
most certainly does not spend liis wealth
in high or riotous living at this hall.
Strict account is kept, on tho co-opera
tive plan, of what the supplies cost, week
by week, and each student is then charged
prorata. The cost, at present, is less
than $4.00 a week to each man, for
twenty-one meals. Here is what the fel
lows ate for dinner ono day recently:
Harvard Dining Association.
Dir n r.
Cream of celery soup
Konst lamb with mint sauce.
Roast pork with apple sauce.
Boiled and mu shea potatoes.
Corn.
Cracker pudding. Apples
Grapes.
Tea. coffee, celery
and sliced tomatoes
each 5 cents extra.
I endeavored on several occasions to
dip into w hat some of the noted students
wore doing in tho bookish line. It is a
characteristic of Harvard men, when ap
pealed to, to give the athletic records of
their fellows. Interest in sports is stim
ulated to the highest degree, so that the
athletic type of Harvard man is easily
the most important. He usually has
frouzled hair, and looks as though lie had
just come out of a scrimmage. He is
building up a powerful physique for the
futur-, provided he does not kill himself
before ho arrives at that goal. I
saw an editorial regret, in a Harvard col
lege paper, to the effort that Waters had
a bad leg, as the result of the killling pace
of sport; then in a fashion intended to ho
serious, but to a stranger, decidedly lu-
dicrous, the editor went on to lament that
other men had lost the use of their -upper
limbs" although urms were not mentioned
specifically! in many college rooms there
are on the walls and mantels, various
trophies of the athletic field, together
with boxing gloves, pictures of race
horses, game cocks and bull dogs A gen
uine athlete looks sharply after what ho
eats, does not smoke, is in lasi a* regular
hours, and does all lie can to build up his
body. Does be stand well in his classes'
Well, Harvard men, as a rule, who go in
for athletics to an excess—and there are
many of this type —do not hold particu
larly high piaces in the class room; but
average it all up. it may in truth be said
that the sporting fellows acquit them
selves well enough. Asa matter of fact,
the faculty indirectly endorses athletics:
at least such is the natural workings of
its rule, to the effect that no one will be
allowed to "make," that is. have a place
on a college team who does not reach a
definite standard.
Wluit do the athletes talk about! I
asked one man what he thought of the
coming cold winter, and ho remarked
that it would be all right for foot ball,
then added: “I presume you know tnat
the veteran Hall has laid aside his walk
ing helps, his crutches, and recently took
a long run on tho track. He is utterly
exasperated at the slowness with which
his knee seems to be recovering.” To the
next fellow 1 put a question concerning
the silver bill, and His rejoinder was: "i
suppose it is all right, and. by the by,
Dunlop Waiters and Arthur Brewer were
recently hurt at different times and were
obliged to stop. Yale may talk about her
sick list, but she is not to lie compared
with us. The quarter-back is threatened
with dyspepsia!” The third student
said: "Well. I suppose you know that
Curtis is the smallest man who has
played right-end for two years. The new
fellow’s name is Taussag, and, although
he is small and light, he is tough, and
will bo tho terror of theopposing team.”
Of the sets within sets at Harvard, the
literary class must not be overlooked.
These are the students who. while en
joying the broad and general life of the
university,’ dip into college journalism,
write the class poems, and become mem
bers of the debating societies. The pub
lications that solicit their attention in
journalism are The Crimson, a daily
paper; the Harvard Monthly, the Advo
cate. a bi-monthly; and the Lampoon, also
a bi-monthly. The Crimson has a snug
little office of its own, where it has a
more complete equipment, I doubt not,
than any other college publication in tho
laud.
Opposed to tho purely social set, of
whom mention has already been made,
are the men I might designate as the
“anti-society" fellows. They may have a
distinct standing in the University, yet in
no way do they mingle in tho purely so
cial forms. Are they women haters? Ask
any pretty Boston trirl! They simply are
tho wide-awake young men who are with
out the necessary means to shine in Har
vard society; or, it may be, they have
money, but do not care to enter the gilded
circle; or, they may lack ambition, or
family Influence. At any rate, they go
through their college course quietly, and
when they graduate they leave little or
no impress behind them.
I saw a man, spectacles on nose, shoul
ders prematurely stooped, ami a general
air of tho hermit about him. Under his
arm he carried two immense tomes. He
was hurrying to the classrooms. I asked
one of the boys to tell ino about him. The
response throws a light on some interest
ing Harvard modes of thought.
“Oh,” said my informant, "lie is only a
‘grind;’don’t have anvthing to do with
him?”
There is a class of students at Harvard
who plunge so deeply into their books
that they have no time for any other
diversion! These, the men designate,
with quite contemptuous air, “grinds.”
Athlete:} hate .pipit despise
grinds. Non-society boys ignore grinds
as too slow. The literary set scorns
grinds. And the grinds themselves
scarcely know each other—they are too
busy I “Why!” saida literary chap to
me:—“Those grinds are next to useless.
They use the college like an orange.
They suck out of it ail they can, giving in
return—nothing! They never break a
record; they never eiiase the pigskin;
they never do anything but grind, grind,
grind! Did you ever hear of a grind
drinking a glass of beer—or going to the
theater -or sitting up till the sun rises
over the top of a deck of cards, which
.you and 1 may have been using all night—
or kissing a pretty girl—or squeezing
her hand —or raising a racket? Well, not
much!”
I entered a grind’s room. “Good morn
ing. sir." I said, adopting tlie bumble
English master-and-inan style, and tack
ing "sir” on my compliments. He looked
up from liis book. “Well, how are you ”
was his hesitant response. “I came to
look at your room : you will permit me !”
“Oh, certainly, certainly; but you must
excuse me; I have to grind out this lesson
in psychology.” T looked at the room. It
was quite devoid of ornaments. There
were a dozen shelves of ponderous books.
1 did not see a picture of two fighting
game cocks nor one of Rancocos winning
the handicap- nor of the late lamented
Sullivan in full regalia, bringing the
claret from Corbett’s nose -nor of two
bull dogs, making mince meat of each
other I did sec something on tlie wall,
modestly pinned in a far-down corner,
that looked like a last year's valentine,
evidently such as would be selected by a
maiden aunt to send to her dutiful nephew
in Harvard.
The grind kept grinding until finally I
ground myself out of sight.
There was to be a grand entertainment
at a certain man’s rooms in the aristo
cratic Claverly halt. Caterers in wagons
came and went ; there was to be music
and there were to be flowers; the groom
was in livery and the three extra hired
servants in full evening dress, were the
best that could be obtained; the wine
was to (low freely, and there was to be
mirth, revelry and song A large hole
was to he made in that allowance of SB,OOO
a year.
Yet tlie master of tlie apartments was
tearing his hair in liis private room, liis
last request at the hauk for funds had
Just been overrule 1, and a lettor was even
then in bis hands saying that lie had
overdrawn his account, largely.
“What shall I do?” he gasped.
Just then there was a knock nt the
door; the servant quickly admitted a tali
stranger.
"Poco!”
It was the master that spoke, joyously.
Poco, ever faithful, ever true', had
arrived at the critical moment! Glee
fully he overhauled the overcoats; he
mentioned a sum. which the rich student
accepted gratefully. Poco, his arms
loaded with bundles, beat a hasty re
treat. “1 atn saved," muttered the
student, under his breath. “It was a
close call, but Poco w ill never desert a
Harvard man!”
In the “Crimson," on a conspicuous
page, is to be seen, daily, this significant
advertisement: it reveals much of the
inner life of the Harvard swells. "Poco”
is a nick name; this character has been
in Harvard for a great many years:
POCO ! !
Having done business with Harvard
student* for the past forty years, ‘ Poro '
is prepared to pay more for cast ofT cloth
ing than any other dealer.
Well, there was a grand entertainment
that night: there was feasting, drinking,
singing and diverse amusements, suited
to the tastes of these Jolly blades. The
talk turned on many interesting matters,
some of which—but you need not blush ;
college men are tbe same this wide world
over.
And as I passed down the street, late
that night, toward home, I saw a thinlv
clad young fellow, liis face pinched and
worn by marks that not poverty alone
had power to impress. He was posting
bills on the fences, under the half light of
the waning moon. 1 knew him then,
when he smiled that cheery, happy smile.
"I think," he said, slowly, as he paused
a moment, "this job will brine me #25 if it
holds out ail winter: aren’t tue managers
of the theater good to give me a chance to
help pay m.v board while passing through
Harvard —beating my own way!"
John Hcuekt Greusei..
pattusT school girl.
Attending Her First Appearance in
Public at the Age ot Thirteen.
Traits Shown at an Early Age—A
Life Saving Heroine in Her Teens.
Some Reminiscences Told by Her
Classmates Her Generosity to an
Old Friend-Her Old Home in Mt.
Vernon, N. Y.
New York. Dei - . 2.—Adelina Patti first
sang in public when only 13 years of age.
It was at an entertainment given on June
19, 1858, for the benefit of the Catholic
church in Mount Vernon, N. Y. Mount
Vernon then was anew and sparsely set
tled suburban village, fourteen miles
from the metropolis. It is now a city
with a population of over 10,000. The
Patti family lived in a large brick man
sion in the environs. They were in good
circumstances and maintained a very
comfortable, unostentatious establish
ment, having horses and carriages and a
retinue of servants. The location was
near tho New Haven and tho Harlem
railroads, and the house and grounds
until roeently were in full view of
passing trains. The property is now
occupied by the family of the editor of
a prominent German newspaper pub
lished in the metropolis. Patti yot clings
with fondness to the reminiscences of her
girlhood yeaas, and whenever in the city,
she invariably takes an excursion drive
up the boulevard, to review the old home
stead, and call upon some of her old-time
friends. This custom was repeated or,
her last visit to New York, but the old
house itself, and more especially its sur
roundings, have undergone so many
changes that she said that she would
never care to go again. What were for
merly open fields and pleasant groves, ate
covered by city streets, lots and numer
ous buildings. The old landmarks are al
most obliterated. She sighed as she said
to one of her former playmates, who still
lives in South Mount Vernon: "Oh! -
change,—changes; all changes, and all
the dear old scenes have passed away. I
shall not wish to see it any more.”
Patti made two brief calis on old school
mates, one of whom has for years been a
cripple, suffering at times the ocuteft tor
ments of a peculiar chronic spinal disease.
Her moderate ineome is insufficient to
secure more than ordinary medical ser
vice, but Patti has not only furnished her
with the means to command tho efforts
of the most eminent specialists in this
country, hut desires every possibility for
further relief to be exhausted, at her ex
pense.
Adelina, witli her sister Carlotta, at
tended the District school, in Mount Ver
non. more than a mile distant from their
home. In “Scharf’s History of West
chester County” reference is made to the
fact that in 1858 complaints were made
to school trustees by several persons that
the piano in the school house was mouop
olizod by "a little Italian girl” who at
every available opportunity played and
sang, to the exclusion of other pupils.
This was Adelina, w'hose genuine inborn
passion for music eagerly sought develop
ment and progress, paramount to all
other considerations, and on all possible
occasions Madame La Hue, one of Patti's
former classmates, tells many interesting
facts and incidents that never have been
published. Khe says . “The Patti girls
were nice in everyway. Some thought
that Carlotta had the softest, sweetest
voice; but for rich, full round tones, com
pass and power, Adelina was then, as she
is now, superb. Even in those days, all
of us school children, and in fact every
body who heard her, recognized her re
markable gift of voice. But none of us
ever dreamed that she would attain her
present eminence us the acknowledged
“queen of song.”
Mrs. Greene, another of her school
mates. said: "No one could help being
impressed with the beauty amd power of
her voice. Often, while the class were
singing, we would forget everything else
but that voice; and when the teacher
would ask why we had stopjied singing,
vvealways answered ‘we couldn't help
stopping- to listen to Adelina.' ”
Mine. Angerine, another classmate,
said: “Yes, often half of the girls would
pause to listen to Patti. Now, of course,
she knew all of this, and you would think
it would have made her vain. But it
didn't seem to. She was a queer girl; pe
culiar, hut not freaky, or cranky, or silly.
She had a strong will, but not a bad tem
per. While not at all ‘proud,’ she was
particular as to the choice of companions.
Although good-natured and big-hearted.
she had very few intimates and
they were one of the nicest sort. Sue was
one of the most generous and sympa
thetic creatures that I ever knew. She
is a very benevolent woman, and 1
could, (if I did not know it would be
very offensive to her) tell you of many
kind deeds of hers. If any one thing
were calculated to arouse her wrath now,
it would be the public mention of her
charities.
The school children were accustomed
to speak of her as “the little Italian
girl.” Although she did not like it, she
manifested no resentment,. But one
day some of the boys annoyed her
greatly repeating, mockingly, tne words:
“Patty-cake,patt.v-cake baker's man,etc.’’
Under any circumstances she seemed
to have an aversion to boys, but on that
occasion she was tried beyond endurance.
Suddenly, whirling about, she confronted
them with the fierceness of a tigress. She
fairly quivered with rage, ns she poured
forth a terrific invective in pure Italian.
The English language probably was not
strong enough. None of us understood
what she said, but the hoys turned pale
with mingled surprise and fright. None
of the boys or girls ever presumed to an
noy her after that occasion. She soon re
lapsed into her ordinary peaceful munner
and was as good natured as though noth
ing of the kind had happened. Often this
reminiscence has come to tne as 1 have
looked at some of her most celebrated im
passioned impersonations on the operatic
stage in recent times. Then it was an
embodiment oL artless nature. Now it
is genuine nature with the adornment ‘of
art.
Patti was rather short in stature and
athletic. She delighted in out-door exer
cise and was expert in running, jumping,
swimming, and even climbing, and withal
was ever dei orous, graceful and modest.
On one occasion she was a life-saving he
roine. On a bright, crispy, cool Saturday
morning in October she accompanied a
bevy of school girls on a hunting excur
sion to a strip of forest known as "The
Cedars,” situated on the Schieffelin es
tate, at the edge of Eastchester village.
Through this woodland extends a rocky
ravine, along tho bottom of which courses
a little brook. Atone point there is as
wild, weird and uncanny a retreat as can
be found this side of the Rocky Mount
ains, the forest being so dense as to ef
fectually exclude the sunlight at all
times, and even at noon the surroundings
are almost grewsorne in their gloominess.
It is called "tho Devil’s Glen." The ra
vine at this point widens, and in its cen
tral chasm is a huge oval basin, containing
water said to be over forty feet in depth.
It is bordered on three sides by precipi
tous walls of rock, rising from ten to
fifteen feet above the inky-lined sur
face, and is known as "the Devil’s Pool."
The party paused here awhile and viewed
the quaint, queer, romantic scenery.
Some of them found amusement by pitch
ing large stones into the murky water,
ami listening to the resounding echoes of
the splashes
While thus engaged one of the girls
slipped and fell into the |x>l What had
been a scene of merry frolic, instantly
changed into tone of panic and horror.
The air was filled with piercing shrieks
and screams. One of the juirty fainted,
and the others frantically ran to-and-fro.
wringing their hands and crying pite
ously.
Patti alone retained presence of mind,
and urged some of the girls to run quickly
for help. Then leaping from rock to nick
until she came to the lowest end of tho
gorge, without an instant of hesitation
she sprang into the water and swam out
to tlie half submerged and struggling girl,
who had fortunately grasped and clung to
tin l brittle branch of an overhanging tree.
Patti succeeded in supporting her half
crazed playmate, and swam with her to a
floating log, near by, where the two
rested. After quieting and reassuring
her companion with words of encour
agement. Patti succeeded ill paddling
the log along to the lower end of the pool.
But they were still helpless, as their
clothing was weighted with its satura
tion, and their bodies were cliillod almost
to numbness. It was more than half an
hour that they clung to that cold, slimy
log, before assistance came from the ad
jacent farm houses to rescue them from
their perilous position. During all this
terrible experience Patti’s courageous
demeanor was unfaltering, and by cheer
ing words, she inspired her companion
with the hope and strength that saved
her from perishing. The girl whom she
then rescued is now the wife of Judge
Farbv. of New Orleans.
The most interesting episode, as well as
the most important era in Patti's girl
hood, was tier first appearance as a
singer, before a public audience. The oc
casion was an entertainment in aid of tho
building fund of the Catholic church in
Mount Vernon, N. Y., and the program
comprised local amateur talent, ex
clusively. The affair was hold in tho
hall of the little village hotel, whose seat
ing capacity was far loss than 200 per
sons.
There was a crowded house, and most
of tho auditors were personally Interested
in one or another of the performers.
Among these wore such persons as Mr.
John Oscar Stevens, now secretary of tho
Atlantic Cable Telegraph Company, Mr.
George Stevens, a veteran Journalist of
considerable poetical genius, Mr. Barnes
Miller, and Mr. Harry Chapman.
Patti’s name was far along on the list
of vocalists, and when tho time for her
appearance arrived the hour was late, for,
as usual in such country amateur affairs,
delays had greatly prolonged the exer
cises. The audience had become wearied,
but the announcement of the name of
Patti aroused them. The public school
children had so frequently and enthusi
astically spoken to their parents about
the beautiful singing of "the little Italian
girl," that gossip was alive and curiosity
eager to see and to hear the local Juvenile
prodigy. There was n rustling of dresses
and stretching of necks in their efforts to
obtain a good view. Patti noticed the
bustle and had an inkling of the cause. It
was no more than natural that such con
spicuousness should render her extremely
sensitive, and provoke that sensation
known as “stage fright.”
But the hearty applause that filled the
hall as she came upon the platform dis
pelted all momentary nervousness, and
the little lady held her self-corn maud at
its normal equipose. The audience saw
before them a girl of 13, or rather short,
stout and yet graceful figure, handsomely
dressed in dark material with trimmings
in colors most becoming to her. She was
not handsome, but had a very pleasunt, in
telligent, interesting face, luxuriant hair
and eyes of diamond brilliancy. Tho ac
companist, Prof. Agassiz, herunusieul in
structor, was far more nervous than she,
because he doted much on her proficiency,
and was anxious that her first essay in
public should be successful. In his pre
lude lie made a discord in the third or
fourth bars. (Juiek asm flash Patti half
turned and shot a vexed glunee toward
him. and stamped her little footas if with
annoyance at his error. Then she Rang an
Italian love ditty. It was a simple, sweet
melody, and she rendered it with exqui
site expression. At its close the ap
plause was so enthusiastic and pro
longed that she was sent forward to
respond, and for an encore sang a selec -
tion from the opera of “Fra Dtavalo.’’
This was quite a test for her young voice
and brought out all of its niurvelouq
richness and compass and more than
than all else, her individuality of expres
sion. There were no expert musical crit
ics present: it was only a little country
village audience. But Patti took them
by storm. The applause was tremen
dous; it was furious; it was incessant
and persistent. The people shouted "sing
more,” "sing again.” But her careful in
structor knew that her voice had been
exercised to the limit of prudence, and
felt obliged to decline.
Patti bowed her acknowledgments and
tripped off tlie platform with the grace
of a little princess, and when the over
delighted Prof. Aggassiz folded her in liis
arms and exclaimed in the hearing of the
village president: “Bravozee grand leedie
diva!” little did he realize the prophetic
import of that utterance.
Blackmail in Paris.
London Belter to the Argonaut.
Paris has hundreds of men and women
who live in ease and even splendor by ex
torting money from people in high places
who have some dark and guilty chapter
of their lives that needs concealment.
This form of blackmail became so pre
valent in England that the penalty on
conviction was made imprisonment for
life. In France vast sums of money are
still paid blackmailers.
A young and fashionable but Impecu
nious Scotch nobleman, who had squan
dered the large sums he had mude by his
abnormally good luck on the turf, recently
sought to repair his broken fortunes by
forming a matrimonial alliance witli an
heiress, and for this purpose put himself
in the hands of a lady who is well known
in Paris as a marriage broker, and by no
means loses any part gif her great social
prestige by the fact being thoroughly
well understood that she marries off her
friends for a commission at so
much a head, as it were. The
Scotch peer, having told this lady
what be was in search of. the question of
commission having been decided on and
agreed to, the desired heiress was sought
lor and found in the person of a very
pretty young girl of 18, who was being
very strictly brought up at a convent at
Nantes, the lady superior of which in
stitution having, of course, to be allowed
“to stand in,” the girl being an orpliun
and tlie head of the convent exercising
great influence over her.
That the dowry wns very c onsiderable'
was beyond question, and that the young
lady herself was most charming was
another agreeable fact, so that no ques
tions were asked at first as to the source
of tlie girl's fortune; but at last a very
shocking discovery was made, which at
once put a stop to the projected union, for
it transpired tiiat the girl's father, long
since dead, had been sentenced to penal
servitude for life for blackmailing, and
that It was by this villainous means that
he had amassed the many shekels which
wont to the forming of his daughter’s
dowry.
A Hough Estimate.—Miss Soars—What
should yoh imagine her ago to Im) -
Miss Knox I'm not very good at a guess;
possibly the carboniferous.—Vogue.
MEDICAL.
Every Month
many v/oir.en suffer from Excessive or
Scant Menstruation; they don't know
who to confide in to get proper advice*
Don't confide in anybody but try
Bradfield’s
Female Regulator
a Spsclllc for PAINFUL, PROFUSE.
SCANTY. SUPPRESSED and iRREQULAR
MENSTRUATION.
Boole to “WOMAN” raailad fra*.
BRAUFHLD REGULATOR CO.. Atlanta, Ot.
SolA bf oil Druggists.
EPILEPSY OR FITSJ
Can this disease be cured? Most physician* any
No— / say, Y os; all forma and the worst cases. AN
fer 30 years study and eiponmcnf I have fonnd th
remedy. -Epilepsy ia cured by it; cured, not *ub
iued by opiates—lh old, treacheron*, quack treat*
ment. Do not despair. Forget past :n positions on
your purse, past outrages on your confidence, past
failures. l ook forward, not backward My remedy
ia of to-day. Valuable work on the subject, and
large bottle of the remedy—sent free for triaU
Mention Post-Office and Express address.
Froi. W. U. PEKKK, F. D.. 4 Cedar St., New York,
“A Penny
Saved is a
Penny Earned.”
But a penny saved in
buying a poor article of
food is a dollar lost to
the doctor.
BUY
jw—wig.iagp. aat—
SELF=RAFSINQ
Buckwheat.
Saves
Health,
Dollars
And Time.
a—
-J
FEED.
rusTpk66Foat3
FOR SEED.
A LARGE lot of Georgia raised Rust Proof
Oats. Also a lot of choice Toi as Oat*
on hand anti for sale in lots to suit purchasers.
These oats are exceptionally line, and It will
be to your advantage to call and uxnmlno bo
fore limiting your purchases elsewhere-
X. J. DAVIS,
Grain Dealer and Seedsman,
Telephone 223. 156 Bay street.
JEWELHr.
IF LOOKING FOR A PRESENT
You always find something new and pretty at
DESBOUILLONS’.
Fine lino of Silverware appropriate fop
wedding presents. Latest novelties In Silver,
such as llat Pins, Hair Bins, Hat Marks,
Scarf Holders. Key Kings, Book Marks
Pocket Books. Match Boxes, Pocket Knives
Garters, Souvenir Spoons, etc.
Gold Watches of finest quality and mmkot
Our immense stock of Diamonds and Jewelry
always complete, at
A. L. DESBOU/LLONS'
The Kcliuhlv Jeweler,
MO 21 BULL STREET
PUBLICATIONS.^
FASHION MAGAZINES
FOR DECEMBER
bis is n.
21 1-2 bun street.
• mica
He vug de la Mode .36a
Le Bon Ton.. 350
L’Art de lu Mode 36g
Fashions of Today iKuglish edition of Ha
Mode Pratique) fife
The Season 3Qc
The French Dressmaker 30q
The Young Httdies' Journal )50a
Metropolitan Fashions for Autumn and
Winter IWS and 2f>o
Oodey'H Ladies’ Book 2SO
Demorost Family Magazine *JOo
Peterson's Magazine 25q
Toilets 150
Delineator iso
Domestic Monthly 100
Ladies' Home Journal 100
Harper's Bazar too
Andress all orders to
WILLIAM KSTILL,
Savannah. Ga.
--9
PRINTING.
The Morning News
Printing House (Job De
partments) has added a
large stock of Wedding
Stationery, and prints and
lithographs Invitations,
Cards, etc., in the latest
styles.
WEDDING
INVITATIONS
and CARDS.
Parties contemplating; taking
this important step in life are
respectfully solicited’to call on
or address
THE MQENIN3 NEWS,
SAVANNAH, GA.
Ball and Party Stationery,
Visiting Cards, and other fine
work, either printed or en
graved at the shortest notice.
19