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SOME WASHINGTON GOSSIP.
. HI. PROCESS OF CREMATION
' (.11 \FIIICALLY DESCRIBED.
A lo i.nnen<lnble Movement—lt !• Re
lnl. Directed by a Bishop and
wjvcß of statesmen—lts Purpose
l io .'lake Good Home Servants.
What Society at the National Cap
jtlll is Doing—Movements of YVell-
Known People—Other Matters ot
<,*'ueral Interest.
\Yo-tiington, April 26.-The other day a
,v. middle-aged lady of this city
.| ~r later years have been devoted to
, throplc enterprises, died here and,
' riling to explicit ante-mortem In
stVuetions, her body was cremated. Nat
urally. her many friends desired to at
,.'ii i"the funeral; but all experienced a
mental shock, more or less severe, ac
rjJ ~g to temperament, when told that
to j 0 s0 would be to see their recent com-
Jt reduced to ashes. Nowadays nearly
everybody is willing to admit the advers
sliluy of cremation—for other people's
friends We subscribe to its sanitary ad
vantage over the old way, and know- that
i- , only a quicker and cleaner return
o 'f dust to dust.” But when it comes
10 our own previous dead—that lis quite
ar „, ter matter. We regard with horror
the burning of the body we have loved
and prefer to tuck it up tenderly under a
covnlet of sod, though knowing that a
dreadful process of slow decay must go
on in that earthy bed.
.ft,,, theory of cremation Is all right,
but poor human nature is inconsistent
through its affections, and merely to con
template it in the case of any one we
have, known cause the gorge to rise,' like
Hamlet's, at the sight of Yorick’s skull,.
Therefore It was a very small party, of
less than a dozen out of the hundred or
so n no were bidden, that gathered in the
crematorium to witness the Incineration
of our friend. I fancy that few of my
readers ever saw such a ceremony, though
all have a natural curiosity regarding
what will no doubt be the future method
of disposing of the dead; so I am going
to tell you about It, though the subject
is not in accord with this bright spring
morning.
The Washington crematorium is a
handsome, four-story brick building, in
busy Pennsylvania avenue, midway be
tween the White House and the Capitol;
and though there is nothing on the out
side of it, not even a sing-board, to indL
cate its gruesome purpose—those who
know what goes on Inside, but have nev
er seen it, are Inclined to hurry past,
with "bated breath” (whatever that may
mean), and to fancy they detect odors—
which certainly do not exist. When you
have once examined its Interior, this
feeling disappears, for there is not a
single repellant feature about the place,
except such as are found in all first-class
undertaking establishments, in the way of
caskets whose future tenants are yet pre
ambulatlng the earth.
There is a large room In which funeral
services are conducted; and after (he
usual prayer and hymns and eulogy of
the deceased, the coffin of our friend was
carried out through a pair of folding
doors at the rear of the chapel—we fol
lowing, rather shrinkingly, It must be
confessed. The second room contains
nothing but a plain, neat-looking struc
ture of glazed brick, with metal roof and
two large iron doors In front. It is the
crematorium. The corpse was taken cut
of its fine plush casket and laid in a plain
wooden box, with no cover but a cotton
cloth. One of the iron doors of the fur
nace was opened, sending out a lurid
glow into the apartment. The coffin was
lifted by a couple of stalwart attendants,
not the pall-bearers, who were friends of
the deceased, and shoved on rollers into
the fiery Interior of the oven, whose door
was immediately closed. At this point
one of the female spectators became hys
terlu! and had to be ledp out of the
room.
Then ensued the most wlerd and strik
ing part of the process. No sooner had
the iron door shut with a dull clang and
the flames begun their work of destruc
tion on iiuman flesh and bone 6, than there
aic-e from the Interior of the cremato
rium a long. low wail, as of terror and
agony, wholly Impossible to descrlle.
Each of us clutched his neighbor with
pale faces and staring eyeballs. Shriller
and more poignant rose the blood-curdling
sound, until Us horror was lost in Its
monotony. The person in charge Informed
us that it was merely the blast created
bv the electric dynamo which Intensifies
the atmosphere of the furnace Into a
white heat, and moreover disperses the
gases of the consuming body with such
velocity as to lender the slightest odor
Impossible. And yet that mournful sound,
like the wall of a lost soul, will linger
in the ears of all who heard It 'for many
days and rights.
There are two compartments In the
oven—one for the body, the other for the
reception and dispersion of the gases and
odorous vapors. Both In the front anl
side doors of the crematorium—the latter
facing another apartment occupied by the
stoker of the furnace—are peepholes, for
the purpose of viewing the progress of
incineration. When the body has been
in the flames about fifteen minutes, the
observation holes in the front door of the
crematorium were opened, and any one
who wishes could look In. At this stage,
little more was visible amid the fierce
tumult of the flames than the bleaches
nones cf the ribs, arching over what
niight be taken for a small heap of burn
ll;g coals. It requires an hour and a
quarter, so said the master of ceremonies,
for the complete reduction of the body to
expiration of that period
he fire is allowed to die out, and, when
sufficiently cooled, the smMl heap of
" cat appears to be slacked lime Is taken
out and consigned to relatives of the de
|eased.
n he may take his choice between this
fl'uck, certain process, and the slower
corrupuon of the grave. Everybody re
embers the celebrated author, or in
entor, as you may call It, of the first
■fftem of short-hand. His beloved wife
cT ®k r ly, and according to her own re
. _• was cremated and her ashes
,*" n about the roots of her favorite
f * r ?® e bush;and thereafter her falth
-1 lUsband was never seen without one
■1 „ . whlte rose* on his breast. Please
®'- rouall to mind the horrid old story
*r>H ' iecond Mrs. Smith, who liberally
" kU>d th ® dinner with what she sup
dlo l ° excellent white pepper, and
not dlsoover until too late-that she
BLADDER
And Kidneu Trouble Cured
11 < ' r 4,1 Else Falls—At Last a
Hoard, That Fares to Slay fared.
hi! 11 kidneys and bladder trou
ri ~ re Ih on *y °ne real sperlflo cure,
, liat 1* Btusrt’s Gin and Huchu. It
v ' ■**’■ Hn sgreeable flavor and cures
i r, 1 . “V 1 '‘ , * e falls lb following aymp-
I'ufTy or dark circles under the
I "allow, yellow complexion; dull,
, , y '"wdaches; dlxsy, tired feeling;
„ * ’■••'l a. pain or dull ache In hack;
uoudy, mllk-llke or atrlngy, obliged*
ip *° “flan during the day or night.
< *l*'*’*iee quickly follow* ttiesa
*,corns Hut there is a positive nur*
osrt ■ i||n an< j Huchu, it is the one
‘‘l you can rely on. Thoroughly
for pa*i twenty years If oilier
u * have failed you, Try liusrl'i tilt*
u. i is. || J|f#, vigor and power
... ’ " Hieye, make# the is • set rich and
‘'‘aglets or Iry express ptepatd. 11,
g ovp'st given ori kidney lrut>Ws
1 bntf C'e,, ll Wall strata, Atlanta
Your Hair Can Be Saved,
Dandruff Can Be Cared
—WITH-
Coke Dandruff Cure.
HERE IS A CASEi
PASTOR’S STUDY,
West Annlsion M. E. Church,
South Anniston, Ala.
A. R. Brenoer Cos.:
My Dear Sirs— About one month ago,
seeing your advertisement In one ot my
magazines, I wrote you for a bottle of
Coke Dandruff Cure, which you kindly
sent, express charges prepaid. In all can
dor let me say that words are Inadequate
for me to. express to you my profound
gratitude for the blessing you sent me. I
used It according to directions, and tho’
have been a sufferer from an exuberance
of dandruff for more than ten years, ac
companied with a disagreeable itching, yet
It was not ten days from the date of the
first application until every particle of
dandruff had completely disappeared. I
have had this trouble, as before stated,
for more than ten years, in the face of the
fact that my head has been regularly
shampooed, fifty-two times each year, for
not less than fifteen years. Refer any
body to me, when I will take pleasure in
answering them personally. Gratefully
yours,
(Signed) J. WATSON BRADFORD,
Pastor 15th Street M. E. Church, South.
had used all the "mortal remains" of her
predecessor, the first Mrs. Smith.
There is anew and very commendable
movement under foot among the ultra
fashionables In Washington, xiz:, the es
tablishment of a school to give girls spe
cial training for housework. Bishop Sat
terlee Is the father of it, and such ladies
as Mrs. Hearst, Mrs. Letter, Senator De
pew’s niece, the wives of Senator Lodge
and Gen. Miles, and others in the highest
circle of society, are its godmothers, bo
to say. The Bishop, who has yet hardly
reached middle age, is not only a devoted
and successful churchman, but a kind
and practical social reformer. He realizes
that the mere exposure and denunciation
of defective conditions Will not effect their
removal; and therefore he Is always look
ing for the proper antidote and seeking
and apply it. One of the notable draw
backs of American social conditions is
the absence of trained female servants. It
works untold Ills on both fiides of the
question—not only In endless loss and
worry to housekeepers, but in the,injury
inflicted upon numbers of young women
whom it debars from a career as honora
ble as that pursued by any bread-winner.
Bishop Satterlee proposes the establish
ment of schools to train self-respecting
girls for domestic service, so that they
may become worthy assistants to any
matron. The solution of the servant-girl
problem lies In Just such Institutions and
every city In the country should have one
or more of them. Besides the valuable
training imparted, It would Invest the do
mestic occupation with a respectability
inviting to many girls who are now de
terred from taking it up through the well
grounded fear that the fact of their being
servants, on a par with Bridget and Di
nah, will deprive them of all social stand
ing. In truth, the man or women does
not live who Is not in some sense a serv
ant. In every well-ordered home the do
mestic servant Is one of its most indis
pensable features; and therefore she Is as
much entitled to respect as any other use
ful member of society. Training on the
lines proposed by Bishop Satterlee will
bring a higher class of girls Into the
field, and will strengthen their title to the
genuine regard of all whose esteem is
worth having.
Mrs. Nelly Grant Sartoris has Just an
nounced the engagement of her eldest
daughter Miss Vivian, to Archibald Bal
four, of London. Miss Sartoris is now
abroad, having sailed some time ago to
Join her sister, Rosemary, who has been
traveling In Spain and visiting the Eng.
lish , relatives. No plans have yet been
made for the wedding; but it will no
doubt take place In thla city, where her
mother and grandmother have a home.
Both the Sartoris girls have been greatly
admired here since their debut—Miss Vi
vians' four years ago, and Miss Rose
mary’s a year later. While thoroughly
American In their tastes, the blood of
the English father is not to be Ignored,
and nobody Is surprised to learn that the
eldest daughter has chosen and English
husband. While not strictly beautiful,
she is a very attractive girl, and has
many accomplishments. Her devotion to
her mother, whose health has been frail
for some time past, caused her to prac
tically withdraw from society, so as to
have more time for companionship with
her mother and grandmother. Mr. Bal
four is a London barrister, and a distant
relative of the first lord of the treasury.
Mrs. Hearst, who is now preparing to
leave Washington, to spend the next sev
eral months on her California ranch, will
stop on the way thereto at Lead City, In
the Black Hills of South Dakota. In
that strange, faraway town she i# regard
ed as a sort of fairy godmother, one who
can transform pumpkins into chariots
and all that sort of thing. The truth is.
her graceful miracles have been wrought
by transforming gold Into more useful
articles for the needy. In Lead City she
has established a free library and a kin
dergarten, for the benefit of the miners
and their children.
Mr. and Mrs. Levi P. Morton, who, with
their daughters, passed the winter In the
south of France, have gone to London,
to spend some time with their eldest
daughter, Mrs. Corcoran Eus
tis. Mr. Eustls,’ who Is a Washington
man, was lately appointed one of the
secretaries of the United States Embassy
In London. Later in the season, the Mor
tons will return to their home in this
city.
The much-talked-about Senator Clark
of Montana, otherwise known as the
"Copper King,” who is now in Europe,
will shortly return to this country, to at
tend the wedding of his son, at Butte,
Mont. His recently-married daughter,
Mrs. Culver, is now yachting with her
husband in Southern waters; but all the
family will be gathered in Montana dur
ing the month of June.
The romantic marriage of ex-Repre
sentative .1. Frank Aldrlck of Illinois has
already been announced. The happy pair
are row on the honeymoon trip; but will
make this city their future home. Very
few, even among Mr. Aldrich s Intimate
friends, were aware that he owns a hand
some residence in Cleveland Park, the
most fashionable suburb of Washington.
It was well rented, but the tenants have
been summarily ousted and renovation
and furnishing, are rapidly going on for
the reception of the bride. The Hon.
Frank has been fished for so many years,
by maids and widows Innumerable, that
everylwdy had given him up as one of
the incorrigible old bachelors; hence his
sudden captivation Is the more surpris
ing. He met hts bride for the first time
at the Inaugural hall. In March. She
was Miss Agan, a graceful girl in her
forty twenties, here on a short visit to
the wife of Representative Joy. Mr. Ald
rich's Intimates say that he fell a vic
tim to Cupid’s dart at the very first
glance. But his wooing, persistent as It
was, did not speed to suit him amid oil
the distractions of society at Inaugura
tion tlirn -the gayest of the season So,
having learned the train on which the
young lady was to travel fo her Western
home, he found pressing business in the
same direction but did not tall any cne
Dial he was going to leave the city. Af
ter (he good-bye* were all said and Mias
Agan. comfortably serstad In Ihe parlor
. sr. sue perhaps eve*sirring *hy most
devoted admirers had not shown up who
should aguntar In bu* Mi Aldrich him
,*|f’ The cngageinvi* was made and an
mm I* tvi U# mmrri*§* to.
itpiig it try •* *4 of tlw
j jwurnere i
THE mourn NG NEWS: SUNDAY. APRIL 28. 1901.
DREYFUS AS HE IS TO-DAY.
ALL HIS ENERGY DEVOTED TO
CLEARING HIS N AME OF THE
STAIN OF TREASON.
His Book, .last Finished, Was Writ
ten for This Purpose—Constantly
Collecting lilts of Evidence Bear
tug On ills Case With a View to
Complete Legal Exoneration and
Rehabilitation, W hioh He Confi
dently Believes Will lit- Brought
About—Of His Enemies He Speaks
Little and Without Bltternrsss of
His Friends With the Utmost
Warmth—What He Says of Bertll
lon and General Mercler—Six
Large Trunks Full of Letters
From His Sympathizers, Waiting
to Be Answered—llls Happiness in
His Family Life In the Little
Swiss Vlllinge Which He Makes
His Home.
Paris, April 10.—On the roads in the
vicinity of Geneva, Switzerland, there is
often to be seen a quiet, rather studious
looking, bearded man In a white auto
mobile, generally traveling at a pretty
high rate of speed. As he passes, the
wayfarers bow, or touch their hats to
him; even the peasants at work In the
fields turn and salute him, to all of which
greetings he responds with' a grave and
kindly courtesy. It Is obvious that he
Is a personage In the community, and,
more than that, a man who possesses
the respect and liking of the whole coun
tryside. Yet there he is only a private
person. Not even a citizen of the coun
try which he has chosen for his domi
cile. In his own country, France, he is
the center point of the bitterest political
warfare that has divided that warring
nation for a generation, the most notable
victim, of conspiracy and persecution that
the last half of the nineteenth century
has known, Alfred Dreyfus, ex-captain
of artillery In the French army, iato of
Devil’s Island, French Guiana.
'lt is now a year and a half since the
court martial at Rennes reconvicted
Dreyfus, a process followed almost im
mediately by his pardon. For a time
thereafter he lived in the south of
France, then moved to the little Swiss
village of Cologny, where he lievs a life
of quiet happiness with his wife and two
children. Occasionally he visits at the
house of his father-in-law, M. Hadamard,
in Paris, but as a rule he stays but a
few days at a time and appears little
In public. It was on the occasion of one
of those visits that the only interview
which M. Dreyfus has given since his
pardon, took place. Perhaps the term “in
terview” is too formal to express the
very Informal talk In which the famous
prisoner of Devil’s Island took part, the
more so in that he resolutely declined to
express himself upon the matter of the
processes which brought about his per
secution and imprisonment. In the con
versation, however, the man himself was
shown forth as he is, calm of tempera
ment, equable of mind, kindly of spirit,
sane and balanced of Judgment, and this
after such sufferings as few men in his
tory have survived.
On entering M. Hadamard's apartments
I was conducted to the littli office at the
rear of which Is the diamond merchant’s
business office. There, seated at a little
square table, writing, sat Dreyfus. The
last time I had seen him was at Rennes,
in the court room, where he faced his
accusers at the second court-martial, and
I had thought then that his face would
be indelibly impressed upon my memory.
Yet it was not until he raised his eyes
that I recognized him. They were Indeed
unforgettable In their calm, steadfast,
penetrating glance. But his beard chang
ed the whole appearance of his face.
“How you have altered," was my first
word after the greetings.
“And, fortunately,” said M. Dreyfus,
“it spares me much notoriety.”
“But all France has been flooded with
your picture."
"Such poor likenesses that even with
out my beard I could hardly be recog
nized by them. Now, no one knows me.
I come and go unmolested and unnoticed
In the streets of this city, where I should
not care to come were it not luckily so.”
As this is written it may seem to apply
a sort of cowardice, tuit the way In which
It was said relieved it of any such sus
picion. It was not persecution or revtl
ments that M. Dreyfus dreaded, but more
public notice, and anyone who knows
Paris can imagine how, even at this late
date, the man who convulsed the nation
would be overwhelmed by the attentions
of his partisans, rather than of his an
tagonists. As the talk progressed it seem
ed strange to me. after all, that I could
ever have been In doubt of Dreyfus' per
sonality; that anyone who once had good
opportunity of studying him as thous
ands had during his trials and public deg
radation could pass him by without know,
ing him. For,on a closer look,there was the
apparent same soldierly carriage peculiar
for an effect as K the man was bracing
himself to self control, that had attracted
my notice at Rennet*; the same figure, at
tenuated and bony, over which his coat
hung as over a skeleton, but a skeleton
still erect and upright; the same manner
of absolute simplicity and straightfor
wardness. Asked about his health he said
that he was better and gaming in strength
constantly. It Is so good to be home
again,” he said with a deep breath.
”1 have just completed the first %erlpus
and continued work that I have undertak
en since my release," he continued.
"That Is my book, which is Just about
appearing, it Is that which, now brings
me to Paris. Ever since I have had my
freedom I have longed to say to the world
what I had to say and my book doe that.
But 11 was long before I had the strength
to begin It, After the pardon I went to
the 3outh of France where my family
owns property and remained there In per
fect quiet. While there I received a great
mass of letters and telegrams from all
over the world. So many that soon I be
gan to despair of ever answering them,
nor have I yet had the time to read them.
There are six trunks full of them, all
carefully preserved, for I hope some day
to go through them all and do what I can
to acknowledge them. That I have not
done so before does not indicate any lack
of appreciation. To express the gratitude
that I feel for those who have given me
their sympathy seems so utterly beyond
human power that I despair of ever doing
It adequately. What I would wish to say
In answer to each of those kindly mes
sages would In the aggregate take up
more than the span of life.” And M. Dry
fus smiled his rare smile, the more ap
preciated for being so seldom seen, which
Illumines with such sweetness that face,
so grave and wrfrn In repose.
“All my ambition,” he continued, "is
summed up In one phrase; to clear my
r.amc of the stain that reals on It It
was for this that I wrote my book. It Is
for this that I am constantly working
along ninny lines. Dear as sympathy and
the moral aupport of my friends, known
and unknown, have been to me, It Is not
to these that I must now look. Unlesa
I can adduce new facts hearing on my
case I remain, in the eyes of the law, a
pardoned criminal. Facts are what I must
haw, not kindly sentiments MuthemH'lta
has been always rny favorite smdy. Ttn*
is a matter of mathematics: A problem
to which I must furnish the solution.
Link# In the chain are still missing. New
f#‘ ta are coming font! one by one and j
with them ws are filling the gain. In
•he meantime I do not wlah to ap|>eal
for sympathy lo the sentimental aide of
my country. What I want la the full list
irf fa* ta In the case with ti alone sn and
lie vlial.lv and will prove beyond the sha
dow <>f doubt to the mow prejudiced mind 1
•II y4| ]y * • IfllMM'fll' V.’ 1
it tills M, Lus/fus did gut speak gf|
hie endeavors in detail it la known that
he keeps the closest watch of current
events that could In any way bear upon
his case, picking up his bits of evidence
from many and scattered sources; here
a letter to the press from some person In
a position io know whereof he speaks,
there a speech before the chamber, again
a side issue of some minor court martial
or trial. In the altered minds of tho public
It may now be said to be a matter of
common belief that at the center of the
opaque web sits- Esterhazy, whose hand
writing was found In the pocket of the
German, Schwarzkopf, who admitted
having been In communication with the
German embassy In Paris, who fled to
England neither answering the open ac
cusations of treachery nor daring to re
turn and face the courts of his own coun
try; that Dreyfus being a Jew, and writ
ing a hand somewhat similar to that
which Eaierhazy displayed in the fa
mous bordereau, was pitched upon as
the scapegoat, and that for
"the honor of the army” the
maze of persecution ond Intrigue upon
which the army then entered was followed
until the entanglements of falsehood and
purjury became plain to the eyes of the
world. Dreyfus himself, I have no doubt,
knows ad this, known too, that if he
couid have access lo all the records he
could clear himself. As It Is he must
fight In the dark, but he has full faith.
”1 shall succeed," he said to me proud
ly. "It Is that faith which kept me alive
and sane through my Imprisonment; It
would he strange If I felt less hope now,
free and at home.”
With regard to his enemies he had lit
tle to say; nothing in the nature of re
crimination. Hatred Is not In the man;
revenge he does not seek, only justice for
himself and his dear ones. I asked him
about Esterhazy. He would say nothing.
Henry? No comment. De Botsdeffre? The
same. But of Bertl.lon, he of the expert
hand writ ing opinions and criminal meas
urements, he said calmly and without
rancor:
"Ah, he Is a crank; crazy on one point,
that of his hand writing diagram."
As to General Mercler he Is a little
more outspoken.
"1 have expressed my opinion regarding
him in my book,” he said. “People who
can estimate the value of facts well know
how to appreciate my statement that the
secret dossier, upon which I am convicted
without either my counsel or myself
knowing that uch a document was even
in existence, was given to the court on
the order of Gen. Mercler. That is all
that Is necessary to say In that connec
tion.”
It will he remembered that it was on
this point of the dossier being withheld
from the prisoner's counsel that a revis
ion of the case was ordered.
But if M. Dreyfus will not talk about
his enemies he makes up for this by the
heartfelt affection with which he speaks
of his friends. Those who etood by him
when his enemies were dominant in
France. Of Zola, of Clemenceau, In
whose newspaper Zola’s famous "J'ac.
cuse” letter appeared, of Plcquart, and
of many others he talks with the greatest
warmth.
"Never was there greater moral heroism
than was shown by these men.” he said.
"When to take the part of the condemn
ed criminial, Dreyfus was to become prac
tically an outcast Lieut. Col. Plcquart,
who knew me only officially and had no
personal feeling In the matter, dared to
stand for truth and' justice and suffered
disgrace and Imprisonment for it. Zola
and Olemenceau published that letter
with open eyes, knowing what abuse it
would brint down upon their heads. There
were many%thers who, In greater or less
degree underwent calumny and insult m
the cause of truth, and for them I reel
more than I can express. Eventually the
victory will be ours, complete and over
whelming.”
People who knew Dreyfus well before his
trial tell me that he has greatly changed;
that his long Imprisonment has ripen
ed and sweetened his character, that he
possesses a kindliness, a tolerance, a
charity which was not a part of his ear
lier character. Certain It Is that as an
officer he was never popular either with
his superiors, equals or subordinates. Cer
tain It Is also that where he now lives he
Is loved by everyone high and low. To
some extent this doubtless arises from the
happinesss which the man exhales, for
happy he Is, and supremely so despite the
longing for the restoration of his honor
that possesses him. His return to liberty
and to the love of his family are still ele
ments of active rather than passive jby.
Mentally I cannot see that there is any
evil effect of the strain of those long
years of loveliness and torment. His mind
Is neither weakened or dulled; but It does
show a certain quality of absorption and
concentration, evinced in his repeating any
statement which he considers Important,
several times over. His weakness and ill
ness after his pardon, however, brushed
from his memory the acquirements of
years so that he has forgotten nearly all
the English which he learned from por
ing over his Shakespere In his little hut
on Devil’s Island, and even his German
has left him, so that, he told me, when
the great Scandanavlan poet, BJornsen
came to see him, the other day end spoke
German M. Dreyfus had to ask him to
change to French as he found great dlf
flculty/ In following hfm, though he was
formerly a proficient Germon scholar.
M. Dreyfus’ great Joy Is In his family
and especially In the association with his
children. Jeanne and Pierre are both
bright and exceptionally affectionate ahd
attractive children, and both worship their
father. To say that Mme. Dreyfus Is a
wonderful woman Is inadequate to the
point of banality. A former schoolmate
of hers telta me that she was a simple,
quiet girl ,of whom nobody would have
expected any unusual strength of charac
ter or depth of feeling. To
the surprise and unbounded ad
miration of all, this girl who had
never known a serious trouble dev
eloped at the first shock of her husband's
arrest Into a woman of tremendous force
of character. That it was her unbending
courage and unfaltering moral support
that saved M. Dreyfus's sanity and life
is fully attested In her letters and in the
diary from Devil's Island which form a
sun Diseases
Eczema, Tetter, Psoriasis, Salt Rheum, Acne and a gi'eat many other
diseases of like character are classed as skin diseases, when they could just as
properly be called blood diseases, for they undoubtedly originate in the blood, like.
Cancer, Catarrh, Scrofula, Rheumatism, Contagious Blood Poison, etc. ; the only
real difference being in the intensity and nature of the poison. The more serious
diseases, Cancer, Catarrh, etc., are caused by some specific poison or virus, which
is either inherited or in other ways gets into the blood and attacks certain vital
organs or appears in the form of terrible sores and ulcers, while the milder and
less dangerous skin diseases are canted by blood humors or an over acid condition
of that fluid. These acid poisons, as they ooze out through the pores of the skin,
cause great irritation, with intense itching and burning. The eruption may be of
a pustular kind, with excessive discharge of thick, gummy fluid, or the skin may
be hot, dry and feverish, swollen and fissured. Skin diseases, whether they appear
as sores, blotches or pimples,
I can cheerfully and moat alnoerely endorse become more deeply rooted
f our specific aa a oure for Eczema, the moat anf t intractahle rhe
rrltatin* and aanoyln* disease, I think, that nerfaetaST thV rirta in
flesh is heir to. I waa troubled with it for J>eK| ect l. skin in time
twenty-live years, and tried many remedies having a thick, hard, rough
with no rood effect. After uainy your medicine n d unsightly appearance,
a abort time I think I am entirely relieved. You can hide the blemishes
You can yive this statement any publicity you for a time with cosmetics’
may desire, aa It is voluntarily made, more for and washes lotions
those afflicted than notoriety for myself. „ reZ£
Very respectfully, “ n 1 P° w , B ,‘*f , re ‘‘tve
Wlf. CAMphcLL, temporarily the itching and
813 West Central. Wichita. Sana. burning, but eventually the
, , pores of the skin become so
clogged up by this treatment that the poisonous matter thrown of! by the blood
cannot paza out of the system, and settles on the lungs, heart or some other vital
organ and endangers life.
To purify and build up Use poilctad Mood is the right treatment for skin
diseases, and for this purpose no other medicine is so deservedly popular as £. b 8
It is a perfect antidote for all blood humors, and when taken into the circulation,
gently but thoroughly eliminates alt impurities and out* the blood in a healthy'
normal state. The sain ran'l remain in an irritated, diseased tonditmn when
nourished with rich, new blood. 8. 8 8. is the ouly guaranteed purely vegetable
reutedv, and the safest sad best ah in heautifter. Write our physirisns If you have
any blood or skin disease, sod they will cheerfully advise you without tbarge.
.TUB WJKJ BPBCU iC COMPANY, ATLANTA, OA.
considerable part of his book. Happy and
at peace with her united family, Mme.
Dreyfus asks now of the world only the
right to live free from Intrusion and
notoriety. Laurence Deiahaye.
THE CALL BOYAND
THE “OLD MAN.”
How Dick Went on nntl Played the
I’art When Granddad Broke Down.
By Douglas Zabriskie Doty.
The call boy of Fraley’s Theater sat on
an old trunk in a stuffy little dressing
room lit by one feeble, flickering gas Jet.
In his hands were some pages of type
written matter and opposite with one
skinney hand resting on the dressing table
for support, stood an old man, very tall
and dreadfully thin.
"No, Granddad,” the lad was saying.
"Your cue Is; ’Ah! Here is Sommers, he
can tell us.’ ”
Yes, yes! Dick, of course,” the old man
mumbled, running one hand through his
thin white hair. "And then I say—let’s
see what do I say then—l seem to find
It so hard to remember my lines. I must
■be getting old. And to-night Is tho first
night of the new show play. I must
work very hard. If I forget as I did last
week I'll surely be discharged; Smalley
told me I'd get fired If 1 made another
balk.”
"Ah! but you won’t, you know. Grand
dad,” the boy retorted cheerfully. “That
was because you weren't^quite yourself.
You had one of those dizzy spells. But
your’e feeling strong to-day, aren’t you,
Granddad?—and you’ll lie down for a rest
before going on to-night.”
"To be sure!" cried the other, straight
ening himself and folding his arms across
his chest, as he had been wont to do In
the old days when as hero of the piece
he hurled taunts and defiance at the vil
lain. "I really feel unusually well to
day. I—l must feel well," he nodded, with
pathetic vehemence, as he sank back
wearily In the one chair the room pos
sessed. Dick pretended not to notice the
hopelessness of the other's attitude and
he said nothing; hut his heart was heavy
within him, for he knew that Smalley had
meant what he said. Only that afternoon
ho had overheard the stage manager say
to one of the cast: "It’s time Old Man
Williams was put on the shelf; his useful
days are about over."
Wlt'h infinite patience the boy went
over and over the lines that the old man
must be sure of before eight that night.
At times the poor, worn-out old brain
would show a spark of Us former quick
ness and William would "spout" his linos
In a way to gladden Dick's heart. Then
of a sudden, like the sun gone under a
cloud, the old fellow’s memory would fall
him and he could not remember a single
line.
It was a very small part—that of but
ler—with only one Important scene In
which the faithful old retainer Is forced
to testify against the young master whom
he loves.
Dick knew the part by heart, so often
had he made his grandad go through it.
• •••••••
It was a quarter to eight, the vast audi
torium was rapidly filling and across tho
footlights and through the green baize
curtain could be heard the faint squeak
of fiddles being tune’d.
Dick, as call boy, was dressed as usual
in hts tight-fitting suit of blue, smart wjth
Innumerable brass buttons, for Fraley’s
Theater was noted for Its perfect ap
pointments and general air of elegance. It
was the boy’s busiest time. He flew noise
lessly up and down darksome corridors
and dodged In and around moving masses
of scenery. It was his business to see
that all' the performers were present and
ready to go on when their cue came.
For most of the actors It was a hur
ried knock at the dressing room door,
and a quick “Call for the first act.”
But with the star and the two or three
principal people It would be: “The first
act la on If you please, Miss Adams.”
To have the call boy mention one’s
name In calling was a mark of
distinction.
Long before It was time Old Man Will
iams was dressed In the claret-colored
livery, with yellow .and black striped
waistcoat, and hovering about the wings
mumbling over and over to himself his
opening lines.
The overture was ended: "Stand ready!”
cried the stage manager. The bell in the.
wings rang and slowly and majestically
the curtain rose on a handsome drawing
room scene.
Williams’ first scene was rather a hum
orous one, In which he shows the door
to o pompous old fellow who has Just
been Impudent to the young mistress of
the house.
Not for years had Williams shown so
much spirit and quiet humor as he did
In this scene and as he made his exit the
audience gave him a hearty round of ap
plause.
Dick caught the old man around the
waist and hugged him as he came out
Into the wings.
"Bully for you, Granddad,” he mur
mured excitedly. "That’s the best bit of
acting you’ve done In five years!”
The old man was trembling violently,
and Dick made him sit down in a chair
to wait for his next entrance, which
would come In shout twenty minutes.
"Did—did you hear the house!” cried Wil
liams. "Why, they greeted me like a
prince. Haven't heard anything like tt
since I played ’Mercutlo’ In Romeo and
Juliet. It Was almost enough for a cur
tain call. ’Ron my soul. If I’d been a
principal, I believe that'd have had me
out!”
The old chap was trembling nMv as
though he had had the palsy, and as
Dick grabbed one of his withered hands,
Just to give It a congratulatory squeeze,
he felt hla Granddad’s pulse beating—
beating—as though It must burst. The
boy looked up Into the other’s face with
sudden anxiety. "Don’t get so exefted,
Granddad!” he said* soothingly. "Just
“ She Let Concealment
Like a Worm i’ the Bud
Feed on Her Damask
Cheek.”
How aptly Shakespeare touches the
dominant chord in a woman’s nature.
She suffers in silence ; draws a curtain
over her private sorrows, and endures
until endurance ceases to be a virtue.
This is especially the case with the
modest minded women who suffer from
diseases peculiar to the sex. They are
miserable and unhappy, and yet, although
they know that they need medical aid
and assistance, they choose rather to
bear the ills they know than to submit
to the examination of some local phy-
slcian. For this reason many a woman
lets disease fasten upon her. She con
ceals her condition and endures a daily
martyrdom of pain because her mind
revolts at the thought of submission to
the treatment she knows the local prac
titioner will insist upon.
Very many women have written grate
ful letters to Dr. R. V. Pierce, of Buffalo,
N. Y., because they have found in his
methods an escape from the offensive
questions, the obnoxious examinations,
and the disagreeable local treatments
insisted on by so many home physicians.
These tilings are, as a rule, not necessary.
Dr. Pierce's experience and success in
treating hundreds of thousands of women,
enables him at once to determine from
the written statements of women the
form of disease which it is necessary to
treat. Sick women are invited to con
sult Di*. Pierce, by letter, free. All
correspondencfe is sacredly confidential
and tue same strict professional privacy
guards the written confidences of women
as is observed by Dr. Pierce and his staff
in personal consultations with women at
the Invalids' Hotel and Surgical Insti
tute, Buffalo, N. Y.
A WOMAN’S STATEMENT.
"I enjoy goon health, thanks to
Dr. Pierce's Favorite Prescription and
‘ Golden Medical Discovery,’ ” writes
Mrs. J. J. Schnetyer, of Pontiac, Living
ston Cos., 111. "Have taken six bottles
of each kind. I was taken sick last
February and the doctors here called it
‘ Grip.’ I lay for four weeks in bed,
then when I got up I found I had ‘ Dis
placement.’ Had such aches and pains
in my back and limbs could not stand
any length of time. I knew that our
home doctor would insist the first thing
on an examination, and that I would not
submit to, unless I was dangerously sick,
and then it would be too late to do any
good. My son had your book, Common
take It easy now. You’ll make a hit all
right, so don't worry!”
”Ah! yes, Dick—my good Dick!” said
Williams, putting a trembling arm around
the boy’s neck. "I’ll Just sit here and take
It easy (ill my next due.” He settled
himself back In the'chair with a soft,
almost Inaudible, sigh. “I feel a bit
drowsy—the heat, I guess, and the—how
they clapped me, didn’t they, Dick?—”
Then bis head fell forward' on his
breast, and Dick saw that he had fallen
asleep. *
Ten minutes later Smalley laid a heavy
hand on Dick’s arm. "Wake the old man
up!” he cried. "He goes on In five min
utes now. Hurry up!"
The call boy leaned over his Granddad
•‘I’LL GO ON, SIR, AND FLAY HlB PART," SAID DICK.
und shook him gently, but the head never
stirred, and the arms hung limp at hltt
sld.'.
"Ururvklad!” cried the boy aloud In a
frenzy of fear. "Wake up. It's time to go
on! Do you hear?"
Home of the stage hands and others
gathered around, and presently a doctor
apl*-arrd from somewhere.
“A stupor due to the nervous strain.
Ills acting days are ovsr. Boor tad chap,”
he mm hi.
At that moment the low, penetrating
voice of the star was calling from the
rigid wing to "send somebody on, for
goodness’ sake.”
Xrnulley was tearing hi* hair. "Tbs
#>*<*•> will be queered," he wee moaning,
desperately, when Dies, pate, but perfeta
l|r self poss.ezsd. walked up to him.
"I know the part, sir,” he said. "I'M
S'. <mi and play It. My clothes ihs but
tone and ail It's a good enough costume ”
Thmtt, wKImhH W4B)l lag for • trfjiy, tUm
fmu tit*
"It yw pi****, roy LaJy/’ It# 1,
Sense Medical Adviser, and I thought
from reading it that Dr. Pierce’s medi
cine would do me more good than aU
the home doctors—and so it has. If any
one had told me it would do me so mucit
good I would have said, ‘Oh no, not
that much good.’ I can truly say that I
was surprised at the benefit I received.
I can do all my washing and also tend
my flower garden. In fact lamon my
feet most all the time. An old friend of
mine said to me, ‘ Why, what is the
matter with you? You are getting young
again.’ I told her I had taken six bottles
of Dr. Pierce's medicines, and if she
would do likewise she would feel ten
years younger, too.”
However wonderful it may seem, that
Doctor Pierce’s Favorite Prescription is
uniformly successful in curing diseases
peculiar to women, it is not so wonder
ful as it appears. It is not wonderful
to us, that a machine made to perform a
certain task accomplishes
it perfectly. We do not
wonder at the engine
which pulls the tram of
cars, although we know
nothing of mechanics.
We know the engine was
made to do this thing.
We do not wonder at a
musical artist like Pade
rewski who sits at the in
strument and produce*
perfect harmony. W*
lcnow that constant prac
tice enables his 1 perfect
command of the key
board. I/t an inexperi
enced player sit down to
the piano, and the same
keys falsely touched jar
into discord. It is so with
Dr. Pierce in his experi
ence and practice of medi
cine. "Favorite Prescrip
tion ” only does what it
was made to do. Doctor
Pierce knows the whole
gamut of the female or
ganism. Where a less
experienced practitioner
produces a discord, his
experience and skill en
ables the production of
perfect harmony. The
difference between the
success of Dr. Pierce and
the ordinary practitioner
In the treatment and cure of womanly
ailments is the difference between skill,
and success on the one hand and a casual
experience on the other.
GAINED TEN POUNDS.
"I took four bottles of Dr. Pierce’s
Favorite Prescription and two of his
‘ Golden Medical .Discovery ’ and re
ceived great benefit,” writes Mrs. Elmer
D. Sheare, of Mounthope, Lancaster Cos.,
Pa. "I do not have those sick spells as
formerly. Before I took your medicine
I could hardly walk at times, when I had
uterine trouble. I can truly say that
after taking four bottles of ’ Favorite
Prescription 1 and two of ‘ Golden Med
ical Discovery ’ I did not suffer any
more. I gained ten pounds in weight.
In June I commenced using the medicine
and in July helped to harvest the wheat,
so you may know that I did not feel
very bad.”
Doctor Pierce’s Favorite Prescription
establishes regularity, dries disagreeable
drains, heals inflammation and ulcera
tion and cures female weakness. It
tranquilizes the nerves, encourages the
appetite, and induces refreshing sleep.
Asa tonic for weak, worn-out, run-down
women it is unequaled. It makes weak
women strong, sick women well.
Accept no substitute for "Favorite
Prescription.” The only motive for sub
stitution is to enable the dealer to make
the little more profit paid on the sale of
less meritorious medicines.
GIVEN AWAY.
The Common Sense Medical Adviser
referred to in Mrs. Schnetyer’s letter is
sent /ret on receipt of stamps to pay
expense of mailing only. This great
medical work contains over a thousand
large pages and more than seven hundred
illustrations. Send 31 one-cent stamps
for the cloth-bound volume, or only 2t
stamps for the book in paper covers.
Address Dr. R. V. Pierce, Buffalo, N. Y.
breathlessly, “Somers has had ft faint
turn, but he told me to say,” and then
the boy went on with the lines of the
part.
So Dick had saved the day. I suppose
you would like to have me say that Dick
became a great actor, with a salary of
a thousand dollars a week and a private
car to travel in, and all that.
Well, he didn't; that was his last ap-
I>ewiwitce ati the boards.
He eventually became a dignified and
succesful hanker. And he told me once
that the fate of his poor granddad was
a lesson to him, and that as a boy, he
had seen enough of the stage not to want
to follow It as a man.
—The latest statistics of the Salvation
Army ilww that there are 732 corps now
In the United States, with twenty-four
food depots, which have furnished UO.OM
monthly meats, and 190 sotul institutions
for the poor, with a total dally accommo
dation In the same of 7,100. The work
ingmen's hotels number sixty-alx and the
working women have six, with an aggra
sste <f 1.326 Inmates. Klve labor bureaus
and three farm colonies are estabUaliad.
the Utter having 240 lalwrers. other mi
nor Institutions and alum settlement*
number about eighty In all. The expendi
tures on all these Institutions In 1900 was
tm,m, of which 6210.000 Was rsts-d by
Ibe work or tbs payment# of inmates
ann ' mm ii ■
—Bird Dealer™ What do you mean by ft
turning that parrot after keeping Mm for
four months? tAlisl's Ilia matter wltk
Mia*
• ’usnnnrt W w welt the b b-o tdesssd
b o b Mitt St St St gtulters - tii change.
17