RE a
Bellefonte, Pa., Oct. 2I,1892
Sewn SE —
BE PATIENT WITH THE LIVING.
Sweet friend, when thou and I.art gone
Beyond earth's weary labor,
When small shall be our need of grace
rom comrade or from neighbor;
Passed all the strife, the toil the care,
And don’t with all the sighing—
What tender truth shall we have gained,
Alas! by simply dying ?
Then lips too chary of the praise
Will tell our praises over,
And eyes too swift our faults to see
Shall no defect discover :
Then hands that could not lift a stone
When stones were thick to cumber
Our steep hill path, will scatter flowers
Above our pillowsd slumber.
Sweet {riend, perhaps both you and I
Ere love is past forgiving,
Should take the earnest lesson home—
Be patient with the living!
To-day’s repressed rebuke may save
Our blinding tears to-morrow ;
The patience, e’en with keenest edge,
May whet a nameless sorrow.
'Tis easy to be gentle when
Death silence shames our clamor,
And easy to discern the best
Through wemory’s mystic glamor ;
But wise it were for you and me,
Ere love is past forgiving,
To take the 35i1es losin home—
dl ith the living.
Ls Patient > 3 —Glood Cheer.
EE ETE TERS.
ON A FIELD SABLE.
BY KATHARINE FESTETITS.
(Concluded from last Week.)
And scarcely knowing how, Virgin-
ia found herself’ presently upon her
fateful journey. Of that journey she
could never recall anything but a hun-
gry desire to get on faster-faster.
Neither her fellow-passengers making
themselves comfortable within nor the
slow-gliding landscape without had
power to attract her attention. Her
.eyes were turned inward, and the vis-
ion they saw was an old fashioned
tester-bed in a low, large, shabby room
in a decaying Virginia country house,
and lying beneath the faded hangingsa
face and form as faded perhaps al-
ready with thelast dim hues of life de-
parted.’ And yet perhaps—Ob, if she
could get there quicker ; if she could
go by lightning instead of by steam!
It was nightfall when the endless
roundabout journey came at last to an
end, and the name of her stopping-
place, called leisurely at the door,
started her trembling to her feet. The
doctor himself was there to meet the
daughter of his old friend—a rusty,
loose-jointed old gentleman in a still
rustier and more loose-jointed old gig.
A pitying shake of his grizzled head
was his only answer to the mute ap-
eal in Virginia's eyes ; something in
pa throat made it impossible for her
to speak. In silence she let herself be
helped up into the ram-shackly ve-
hicle, and silently they turned into the
dark solitude of the pines, and jogged
along the rough weods road till they
came to the out-gate of Hedera Grange.
The name was all that was left of the
old plantation’s pretensions. The gate
hung loose from its hinges ; the road
was grown up in wild bunch-grass.
The doctor's long sway-backed mare
lifted her feet gingerly over the rotten
logs of the bridge ; the evening wind
sighed through tall ranks ot ragged
sorghum canes.
When they reached the yard gate
they found that swinging open too be-
tween its two ancient mulberry-trees.
“I reckon I left that open,” said the
doctor, finding his voice with an ef
fort. “I knew I'd be ccming right
back with you; but I ain’t goin’ in
again just now. You see there's Mrs.
Heathcote, over at the Crest, you
know. expectin’ an addition to her fam-
ily before mornin’ and I promised to
go there as soon as I fetched you home
There won't be any change to-night
honey, and I think maybe you’d rath-
er—"' The look in Virginia's eyes
showed him that he had reckoned
rightly. “Well,” he said, huskily,
“good night, child; the Lord take
a-likin’ to ye,” and reining his old
mare round, he jogged back again
down the road and oyer the ridge to the
Crest. where another drama was await-
ing him.
Virginia stood staring after him into
the dusk a moment. ‘“Death—Tlife,”
she was saying, wildly to herself. ‘Is
my mother’s spirit going to be breath-
ed into that new-born baby’s body ?”
She turned and almost ran up the
grass-grown drive to the house.
The kitchen door stood open, as was
usual, She entered swiftly, and made
her way to her mother’s chamber.
There was no need for haste. No con-
sciousness revealed itself in the mo-
tionless figure that lay breathing heav-
ily upon the high curtained bed, no re-
cognition in the eyes that wandered
restlcssly from one object to another,
po purpose in the feeble fingers that
picked aimlessly at the tufted counter-
ane. :
“Mother I” the girl cried, throwing
herself on her knees beside the pillow ;
but ‘the ery fell npon dulled ears that
¢ould not hear.
“ "Tain’t no use to’ ye'to try to git
her to speak toye. Miss Ginya, hon:
ey,” said old Bethany, who had started
forwdrd with a smothered exclamation
At her young lady’s sudden apparition.
“She ain’t spoke a word to “nobody
gence she was 'fust takened, an’ I’m
afeard she won’t nevah speak no mo’
on this yea'th. Po’ Miss P'melya,
her, talkin’ days is ovah, but her’ suf-
f'rin’ days is ovah too, an’ we must jes
take one wi’ tothah, an’ sign ou’sefs to
the Lawd’s will, honey.”
Virginia made no answer to the old
seryant’s spreeh ; it is doubtful whether
she heard it. Her whole conscious
ness was centered upon the unconsci-
ousness before her. She only shook
her head “when Aunt Thany begged
er fo have some supper; to lie down
on the lounge and rest while she her-
self watched. How could she stir,
when any moment the stricken woman
might * rally ‘her scattered powers,
might Took at her with ‘eyes that knew
‘old colored woman held to her lips,
her, eyen perhaps find words which
she should remember foreyer |
She drank down the coftee which the
without removing her eyes from the
pallid face upon the pillow ; she let her
wrap a shawl about her shoulders,
and put a stool under her feet, as she
sat on the side of the bed ; but she ney
er relaxed her watch all * through the
dreadful hours of the night, which
went so heavily, and yet seemed to be
using themselves up so fast, so fast!
All through the watches of the night
while old Bethany nodded and snored
beside the dying fire, and the frogs
croaked bodingly in the branch beyond
and all through the following day,
when the good old doctor came and
went, and certain ancient relatives, in
rusty bombazine, drove up in shaky
carriages, and stood and gazed and
sighed and shook their heads, and then
finding themselves quite unable to
make Virginia talk, wandered vaguely
about the house awhile, looked with
furtive curiosity into one and another
dismantled room, and presently, with
more sighings and shakings of the
head, got themselves into their risky
vehicles again and drove dismally
away.
Bethany brought more coffee and
some new-laid eggs. They were soft
and she could make them slip down
her young mistress’s throat and al-
most without her knowing. She
brought in armfuls of oak and hickory
sticks, and piled them upon the cham-
ber hearth ; and as daylight waned
once more, and night was about to
fall, she built a roaring fire in the
kitchen, and laid herself down on a
‘lodge’ of blankets in front of it,
thrusting her tough old brown feet
almost into the flames,
“'Tain’t no use bofe on’em gittin’
all wo’ out for nothin’ Time was
a-camin’ when they’d need their
strength. Ole Miss might have a hard
struggle at the las’, fo’ all they
knowed."”
Her stertorous breathing soon an-
nounced that sleep had overtaken her,
and Virginia was sitting quite alone
beside her mother in gray November
twilight, when suddenly the sick wo-
man’s shifting gaze grew steady, and
fixed itself upon her daughter's face
with a glimmer of reviving 'intelli-
gence,
“Mother I" whispered Virginia,
scarcely suffering herself to breathe as
she bent over her with eye and ear
strained to catch look or word. The
gleam of consciousness brightened in
the faded face. Virginia was sure
her mother knew her now—kuew her,
and wished to convey something from
her own mind to hers. What was it ?
She concentrated all her powers upon
that feeble struggling countenance.
Oh if there were only some last wish
she might grant now, some last fancy
humor.
But the stricken hands refused to
lift themselves; the palsied tongue
could utter no word of explanation;
only the poor anxious head nodded
‘backwards again and again ; the eag-
er eyes, fastened upon Virginia's face
implored ber to understand ; and the
watching girl, growing desperate at her
own lack of clairvoyance, could only
groan out, “Oh, mother, what is it 2”
and bend over te change the position of
the poor restless head, which, in its un-
consciousnesg, she had not ventured to
disturb. :
As she shifted the pillows with
yearning tenderness her hand came in
contact with a little package of some
sort, and in an instant she was aware
that this was what was in her mothers
mind. She drew it out and held it be-
fore the seeking eyes, a simple little
parcel enough, wrapped in a faded
silk handkerchief that smelled faintly
of dried rose leaves.
“Is 1t this, mother ?”’ she asked, and
and the swift gleam of relief was
answer enough “You want me to op-
en it 7’ and again the eyes made silent
regponse.
With trembling fingers, trembling
with a certain subtle apprehension of
the truth, Virginia uutied ‘the string,
unfolded the handkerchief, when out
fell what she expected, a sheaf of bank
notes, crisp and clean, such as she had
taken care always to send to her moth-
er,
Speechless with wonder and pain, the
girl stared from them’ to their owner,
rand felt her heart torn within her at
sight of the pathetic pleasure which
struggled to show itself in the glazing
eyes. The feeble.head nodded again
and again, the faded lips tried to smile,
the fingers ceased their aimless pluck-
ing. Even whilethe daughter gazed
the mother was dead.
The choking cry that broke the still-
ness of the death-chamber roused the old
mourner from her slnmbers in the next
room, She’'got herself up to her feet
‘with a drowsy groan, and came shufl:
ing in. . won fr
~“#Laws ha’ messy on my soul!” she
exclaimed, huskily, catching sight of
“Were it as much as all that-ah, then ?
Po’ Miss P'melya, she were alluz a-hid-
in’ it away, a-stahvin’ he’se’f an’ me.”
her. “Ts that the truth?” she asked,
ind strange ‘high voice." “Did she let
herself want for anything? - Did she—"
Speech failed her, and old ‘Bethany,
frightened, made haste to reassure her.
“Laws bless yo' little hart, no, Miss
Ginya! We-uns lived on the fat o’the
lan’, me an’ po’ Miss P'melya, Wa'n't
thah ev’y kine o’veg’table that grows
in the gyardin’ an’ evly kine: o’fruit in
th’ -aucha’d ? An’ mo’ milk an’ aigs
than we knowed what to do with—
"thout it wah fo’ sellin’ "em to the sto’
fo’ flon’ an’ that-ah sawt o’lux’ries.
"Cose we didn’t set no sech table as we
did 1 th’ ole times, afo’ the wal, when
thah useter be fish an’ poultry an 'iysh-
ters an’ ter'pinall*“to~onct; thah
would’ ha’ ben no sense in that. But
we nevah suffahed fo’ nothin’. No, in-
deedy, Miss Ginya. TI was jest’ speak-
mm’ in'a figger like, ye know. Bat Mies
P'melya she takened a notion ‘maybe
you wouldn't be savin’ enough'in that
-ah hip stravagan’ place whah you was
the bank notes scattered over the bed. |:
Virginia started up, almost sprang at |
this an’ that an’ th’ othah thing jes’ fo’
to git the money an’ keep’ it fo’ you
he’se’f. She kep’ it undah her pillow |
day an’ night ; seem like she 8'picioned |
she mought be takened sudden some |
time, an’ she wanted to have it handy. |
Didn’t you, Miss P’melya, honey ?"’ She
peered down to look into her mistress’s
face. “O Lawd! O Lawd!” she broke
out again, ‘in a shrill cry. “Hesh I
ben a-stacnin’, goin’ on about her, an’
never knowed it wuz the name 0’the
dead I wuz takin’ in vain! Oh, Miss
P’'melya, honey! I nevah s’spected
you'd be the one. to be takened, an’ po’
ole good-fo’-nothin’ Tinnie the one to
be lef’ I”!
Virginia paid no heed to the old ne-
gress’s wailing. No tears had come to
lieras yet to loose the stress of oppress-
ing feelings that constricted her breast.
Dry-eyed and speechless she sat gazing
at the waxen mask before her, the
mouth a little distorted by the dying at-
tempt to smile. Suddenly the old wo-
man started from where she had thrown
herself upon her knees beside her mis-
tress’s bed.
“’Sh!” she said in a hurried whis-
per. “Listen thah, now, Miss Ginya,
Don’t you heah somepin’? It’s some-
body comin’ up the yahd, av’it ain’t
the doctah’s footsteps nuthah. It’sa-
comin’ right in the kitchen do.”
Ordinarily the sound of a strange
footstep, even in the ghostly autumn
twilight, would not have frightened
Annt Tinnie, used to the tradition of
hospitality at all hours. It frightened
her now, but none the less she got up-
on her feet, and went bravely forward
to meet the intruder. Virginia also
turned her head, dully, but on the in-
stant her look changed, her close lips
sprang apart, she held out her hands
piteously, and “Oh, Edward I'* she cried.
For Edward was standing, his steps
suddenly arrested, in the doorway, star-
ing, awe-struck and amazed, at the
strange epectacle—the dead woman,
the marble-faced girl, and the unseem-
ly litter of money between them,
Virginia started forward, tottering ;
then reading the look in his eyes, she
answered it with a sort of wild wound-
ed note: “Yes; it was not for herself;
it was for me she wanted them I” She
tried to hold herself back from him,
but she could not, and, all trembling
and crying, she let herself be gathered
into the arms stretched out for her.
Bethany watched them for a mo-
ment with her shrewd black eyes; then
turning to draw the sheet over her dead
mistress’s face, she whispered, as she
bent down low: “Thah, now, honey;
don’t you fret an’ worry no mo’. She
done provided fo’ now, an’ you kin take
yo' rest.” .
She slipped out into the kitchen then,
and from chere, with her arms full of
light-wood knots and hickory logs, to
the disused parlor on the other side of
the hall, where she piled them liberally
upon the great claw-footed brass and-
irons.
“Thah, now ; thah’s a regulah ole-
time Christian fire once mo’, she said,
half aloud, as the broad flames leapt
out and set the shadows dancing upon
the ancient mahogany furniture.
“I cert’ny is glad Miss Ginya's got a
beau, an’ that’s the truth. I’m clean
tahd out with this yer pinchin’, minch-
in’ sort o'livin’, and I alluz had a lon-
in’ fo’ somepin’ ’sides piny woods and
galt ma’shes. Kin git mah’ied soon
now, I reckon’, wi’ all that ah money
what we scrimped an’ saved ; an’ I shill
go right along wi’ em, an’ do fo’ Miss
Ginya jes’ like I done fo’ her maw. Po’
Miss "Pmelya! Th’ ain’t but one thing
mo’ I kin do fo’ her now, an’ that I
mus’ go an’ do to onct.”
She put apother log on the high-
heaped fire, brushed up the hearth,
dusted a couple of three-cornered hair-
cloth chairs, and set them before it.
Then she recrossed the hall and entered
her dead mistress’s chamber.
Virginia still stood crying silently
against her lover's shoulder. ' Bethany
stopped in front of them, dropped a stiff
little courtesy, and said, decisively :
“The pahlah is in_read’ness, Miss
V'ginya. Will you take yo' comp’ny
in thah, please, Miss, an’ leave me to
my lady yer?’
Virginia started from the arm that
held her, and a shiver ran through her
at the old woman's words. With a
swift movement she threw herself on
her knees beside her mother’s bed, and
buried her face on the fast-chilling
breast.
“No, no!” she cried, in a stifled
voice; “that is my place! I want—I
must |” :
Bethany answered, inexorably, “Its
been ‘many yeahs now, Miss Ginya,
sence yo’ maw’s ben in the habit o’hav-
in’ me dress her.” I don’t reckon she'd
feel easy to have anybody else doin’ it
now,”’
She looked with a servant's authori-
ty at her newly elected master. “She's:
all tahd out, po’ thing, wi’ the trav’lin’
an’.the watchin’ and the weepin’, "’ she
said. ‘Take her into the pahlah,
please, sah, an’ make her rest.”
And she stood by, waiting inflexibly
until her younglady, too exhausted for
resistence, suftered her lover to lead her
away.
Presently, as they sat silently gazing
(at each other in front of the fire, a sec-
‘ond strange footstep was heard coming
‘up the yardandstopping on the porch.
Edward got up quietly and went to the
door, | coming. back almost im-
mediately with a small package in his
hand. ;
“A boy from the station with this,”
hesaid. “It seems to be addressed in
‘your handwriting, dear,” bending down
and looking at the direction by the fire-
light. \
Virginia started forward and clutched
lit with that same strange hurt ery, “It
is the tippet I bought for her, Edward,”
she said ; “the bit of fur you saw me
‘wear that afternoon, And she did not
‘want it at all. 1 found a postscript af-
(terwards, She only wanted the money
| to eave for me—for me!” © She pressed
the | parcel to her breast, then broke
(out again with a hysterical laugh,
| which changed instantly to_a sob.
shall have to wear it myself, after all,
“1
Edward.” And you will never have
livin’, ‘an’ she let on to you she wanted |
a
poor little creature’s head under my |
chin.”
Her lover put his arms around her |
beseechingly. “Don’t Virginia, don’t!”
was all he could say.
The Sun Flower.
How the Fhrifly People of Kansas Utilize Their
State Floral Emblem.
Beginning with the middle of July
and lasting until late in October, Kan-
sas does her best to earn her right to the
title of the Sunflower State. The little
black eyed Susans that grow along
creek banks and hide under the trees
are the first to make their appearance,
and as many hundred will be found on
one little bush. They are followed in a
few weeks by a larger yellow hearted
sunflower, which is the shiest of all va-
rieties.
It is found only in occasional spots,
bearing but one or two blossoms on each
stalk, that lack the pecular resinous
smell that is part of the beauty and at-
tractiveness of the other varieties. From
its delicate appearance it might be called
the invalid of the sunflower family.
There are about twenty different
kinds of sunflower in July that straggle
along one after another—a sort of an
advance guard to proclaim the coming
of the real Kansas emblem flower that
bursts into bloom about the middle of
August. Itis a drooping plant and of-
ten grows to an immense size. The
leayes are heart shaped, and the sun-
flowers are the largest known. When
cultivated in gardens the seed pod alone
often measures seven inches in diameter.
It grows on creek banks, fills up un-
sightly hollows in the towns, casts a
shade along dusty roadways, claims a
corner in every flower garden, nods in
at the second story windows of houses,
runs riot in the fields, climbs the fences
to get in the way of the plow in the
corn fleld, and in a saucy, impudent
way claims the whole state as its terri-
tory and empire,
Thrifty people save the seeds for
chicken feed ; the leaves are used for
fodder, the stalks make good fuel, and
the time is coming when the farmers
will convert the seed into oil. They
raake an oil that is little inferior to
olive oil. An acre of land will produce
sixty bushels of seed, and each bushel is
equivalent to a gallon of oil. The flow-
er yields the best of honey; and “besides
being the prettiest thing in the State 1t
can be made very useful.
The women wear them for corsage
bouquets, fill vases with them for every
room in the house, paint them on china
for the dining room, and on lambre-
quins for the parlor. The emblem of
the Stateis found all over the house.
The children make gum of the wax that
accumulates on the stalk. The maiden
who wears them in her hair has a lover
who wears the badge of a sunflower to
denote his patriotism, and the old folks
love their brightness while condemning
their cheerfulness in sturdily growing
and blooming where corn and oats re-
fuse to live.
They are the State emblem of loyalty
and patriotism. Interwoven in every
part of the state history, they have fur-
nished a theme alike for the patriot and
poet.
: Built on Snow.
An Observatory on the Summit of Mont Blane.
Several futile efforts were made last
year on the part of French engineers to
build an observatory on the extreme
summit of Mont Blanc, but the the ele-
ments interfered in every instance. It
was essential above all things to deter-
mine the density of the stratas of snow
and ice which covered the rocks. Eiffel,
of Eiffel Tower fame,and the Imfeld, the
noted Swiss engineer,in order to achieve
success, began to erect a horizontal
gallery about 38 feet below the summit.
More than 70 feet had been traversed
by this shaft-like structure in its down-
ward course to strike rock bottom, and,
although the snow was found to be ex-
ceedingly hard and compact, not even
ice was reached. Engineer Jansen then
began to erect a second similar gallery
on the side opposite from Chamounix,
where the first was started, with the
same result. No rock was struck.
In view of this fact, Jansen conceived
the idea of erecting the building on the
hardened snow, and after mature con-
sideration of every possible factor of im-
portance, particularly the unstability
of the frozen snow itself, he constructed
a wooden building.
The house is so constructed that 1t will
defy not only the dangers of theshifting
snow foundation, but the violent storms
of the winteras well. The house has
two stories, the lower story and part of
the upper one being buried under the
snow. The sub-story receives its light
through thick panes of glass in the floor
above. The sleeping chambers and
store rooms are lobated in the sub-story.
Engineer feels confident that it is pos-
sible to spend the winter season in that
lofty quarter, and the coming winter
will undoubtedly demonstrate the fea-
sibility ot the scheme.
——-The other day at a ladies’ luneh
party a young girl said: “I admire
Rudyard Kipling so immensely I can’t
‘help regretting that he finds so much in
us Americans to sneer at—our voices,
ourdressing and-all that.” A second
young girl interrupted excitedly ; “He:
finds fault with our personal appearance
indeed!" I boarded at the same hotel
with him when he first visited this coun-
try, and used to often meet him in the
elevator. Why, girls”’—here her voice
sank to'an impressive whisper—“would
you believe'it, his fingernails were als
ways dirty, his complexion was greasy
(and unpleasant, while the, least said
about his teeth the better.” A solemn
hush fell'upon ‘the ' adoring’ company,
which a third damsel broke by -remark-
ing, eentimentally : “Richard Harding
Davis is my hero among young fiction
writers. I am gure’ ‘he must be ex-
quisite himself, he always writes with
so much assurrance of -ultra-swelldom.
A demure maiden in ‘the background
made a slight rustle of disapproval § «I
chanced to cross the ocean on the same
steamer with him him, recently. He
‘wae sunburned to a horrible red, set oft
by a butternut-colored coat, and--well, |
take Lim all in‘a}l, he looked like a
comely butcher,” she said.
——There is a man somewhere whose
memory is 'so'short that it! only’ reaches |
anything to be jealous of again but the
to his knees, therefore he never pays for
‘his boots, ‘
a BO EE RET XN SR Ar PTS TY
New York's Demonstration.
Gorgeous. 25,000 Children on Parade. The
Pyrotechnic Display « Grand Affair, Equaled
Only in Brilliancy of Effect by the Big Naval
Parade on the Bay.
- New York—that city of brilliant
demonstrations and stupendous ‘affairs
of national and international import—
has been the scene the past week of a
celebration which will go down in his-
tory as one of the most gorgeous the
world ever knew. It was the celebration
of the 400th anniversary of the discov-
ery of America, and to Christopher
Columbus all honor was done. Com-
mencing with Sunday, when in nearly
every church services were held com-
memorative of the occasion, the dem-
onstration continued for six days, dur-
ing which time there was an unbroken
series of brilliant spectacles by day
and by night. The great city was
thronged with visitors from all over
the world, and the affair was surely
demonstrated, as one ot the allegorical
displays attempted to portray the
“Triumph of Columbus.”
MONDAY'S BIG EVENT.
Following the service of praise and
thanksgiving in the churches the cele-
bration was continued Monday with
an expression of the intellectual devel-
opement of the country in the opening
of the art exhibition at the Academy
of Design and the parade of school
children and college students, The day
was as nearly pertect as could be desir-
ed. Twenty regiments of grammar
school boys ot New York and Brook-
lyn, Long Island and Jersey City,
each regiment at least 500 strong,
marched with swinging step and per-
fect alignments in the parade that day,
every boy proudly carrying a flag of
his county, prepared to honor and de-
fend it. And this was only one di-
vicion of the parade. There were
three other divisions of equally patri-
otic purpose. In the second division
came the parochial schools, academies
and colleges of the Catholic church in
New York and adjacent cities, over
500 strong, each pupil also carrying
the national flag in connection with
the emblems and banners of the
churches and academies to which they
belong, After them followed the uni-
formed schools, and last ‘the students
of maturer years from the different
college of law and medicine, in engin-
eering and the arts, about 4,500 strong.
In the third division of the proces-
sion.
THE PART THE GIRLS TOOK.
The female students, who were de-
nied participation in the parade, were
assigned an appropriate and ornamen-
tal part in the proceedings. Artistic:
ally grouped on a stand in the reser-
voir square, at the junction of Fifth
avenue and Forty-second street, nearly
1,700 pretty faced schoolgirls, each
wearing a liberty cap and costumed in
red. white and blue, respectively. The
tableau had been so arranged before-
hand that on the approach of the pro-
cession almost instantaneously each
one of the smiling, bright faced chil-
dren so disposed herself and her cos-
tume as to present the effect of the
American shield, with three American
flags artistically bunched on each side
of it- The fluttering, quivering mo-
tions of the admirably arranged bands
of colors as I,000 sweet girl voices
sang “The Star Spangled Banner” and
other patriotic airs, while their gallant
male fellow students tramped past
with quickened step and ringing cheers
niust have left a lasting impression of
the Columbian school day celebration
on the minds of thousands of the ris-
ing generation. On the east side of
Union square an effective tableau was
presented by 1,000 schoolgirls of the
Catholic parochial schools, and on a
neighboring stand 300 tiny little waifs
belonging to the Children’s aid society
waved their miniature American flags
as the procession passed by.’
CARLISLE’'S INDIAN BOYS.
But the feature of the parade which,
perhaps, attracted more attention than
any other along the line was the march
of 300 boys from the Carlisle, Pa., In-
dian industrial school, accompanied by
their own band of music and partly
dressed in. Indian costume, partly in
uniform of their school. These
sturdy going warriors of different tribes,
who are fighting a way to civilization
for themselves and their races by
means of practical education, had been
drilled and trained for exhibition at
Chicago in the Columbian openinge er-
monies there. They admirably illustra-
ted the fact that education and milder
and more humanizing methods than
those originally pursued are surely and
even rapidly elevating in the scale of
civilization the race whom Columbus
found in sole possession of the country
he claimed by right of christian dis-
covery.
MONDAY EVENING'S EVENTS.
The musical part of the great Col
umbian festival was opened Mouday
night with the performance of an elab-
orate allegory, “The Triumph. of Co.
Iumbue,” The chorus consisted of 500
picked voices. The first scene repre.
sented 'a wild mountain ‘pass 11 Spain
witha Moorish castle in the distance:
The second showed the council of Sala-
manca in gession, where Columbus
pleaded for a hearing. In the third
scene ‘Columbus “ has taken refuge
i from his enemies in the convent of La
Robida in Spain, The Spanish court
in ‘the Alhambra was shown in the
fourth’ part.” The fifth represented the
two ships, Maria ‘and Pinto, at sea in
the midst of a violent storm and the
mutiny of the sailors. The last scene,
‘which was the crowning triumph of
the allegory, represented’ the entry of
Columbus ‘into Barcelona: and formed
a gorgeous stage picture, the, ettect of. |
which .was heightened by the grand |
choral with which the performance
closad.
The great and absorbing attraction
for the multitudes monday evening was
the display of Fireworks on the Brook- !
lyn bridge. The exhibition began at’
8:30 o'clock, and lasted about an hour
and a ‘half. Among the ‘sel pieces” |
was a statue of Columbus and the ship
It Will go Down in History as One of the Most | 10 Which
the discoverer set sail for
enoa. Two tous of powder were used
in the colored fire for the series of 15
illuminations, which alternated with
salvos and flights of bombs, screaming
rockets, Roman candles and gas bal-
loons. One of the most striking dis-
plays of the evening was the represen-
tation of Niagara falls in silver fire
near the close of the exhibition. This
was given at the New York end of the
bridge. It was 625 feet wide and re-
presented a dazzling cascade of shining
silver 200 teet high. Another feature
was a telegraphic message written in
letters of fire sent from one tower to-
the other by the Morse code. !
THE NAVAL PARADE,
Long before noon Tuesday every
available place on and overlooking the
bay was crowded with spectators anx-
ious to view the naval parade. The
spirit of carnival was abroad in all the
waters of the harbor, ocean steamers,
barks, fishing schooners, tug boats, fer-
ry boats, excursion boats and even lum-
bering lighters, pile drivers grain ele-
vators and all the odd -and shapeless
crafts seen about the rivers being bright
with bunting. The naval parade was
one of the most novel sights ever wit:
nessed. The series of gigantic floats
upon which were shown scenes illustra-
tive of the remarkable advances in ship
building since Columbus discovered
America was one of the best displays.
The men of war that participated were
the Philadelphia, Atlanta, Dolphin,
Vesuvius, St. Mary's the French flag-
ship L’Arethouse, the Italian cruiser
Infants Isabel and the Cushing. The
start was made from Gravesend bay.
The Philadelphia was the flagship, snd
headed the columns as the fleet ad-
vanced up the bay, on the starboard
side. There were three columns in the
line as they came up the bay and North
river, and the distance between the col-
umns wag about 300 yards. In the cen-
ter columns the foreign ships of war
came under escort. A salute of 21 guns
was fired from the forts on the Staten
Island and Long Island shores as the
ships passed through the narrows. On
passing Battery park a second salute
was fired by the vessels in the squad-
ron which then proceeded up the North
river to One Hundred and T'wenty-fifth
street, where the ships anchored. When
the mayor and his guests passed the
men of war in their boat a national sa-
lute was fired.
GREATEST DAY OF ALL.
Wednesday was the anniversary day
proper. It was a legal holiday, and
one that will long be remembered.
With the rising ofthe sun there was
gun firing at the battery and other
points of the city. Flags were hoisted
at the battery and at the old fort in
Central park. Church bells were rung,
and it was more like an old fashioned
Fourth of July than auything ever seen
in New York. The military parade
started soon after 10 o'clock, under
command of Geaeral Martin T. Mec-
Mahon. Tt is estimated that over
35,000 were in line, and it was the
greatest military parade ever witnessed
in America, Soldiers of all sorts par-
ticipated. Over 6,000 militiamen from
neighboring states were in line. There
was a regimeht of cavalry, Indian sol-
diers, and the Grand Army of the 'Re-
public sent thousands of men.
At 9 a. m. every foot of space along
the line of march from where even an
unfrequent glimpse of the marching
thousands could be had held a human
face. A million people were packed and
jammed together in one continuous
mass, from the Battery up Broadway
to Fourth street, then west around
Washington square to Fifth avenue, to
Fourteenth street, to Fourth avenue,
to Seventeenth street, to Fifth . avenue
and to Forty-ninth street, where the
procession was eventually disbanded.
The sidewalks were impassable ; every
window, even up in the 10th and 12th
story windows of towering buildings,
was crowded by those who could afford
to pay the fabulous prices demanded
by the owners. Thousands at extor-
tionate rates, obtained seats on the
stands, varying in size from the tiers
of seats erected by the city on the pub-
lic'squares to piles of dry goods boxes
on adray wagon drawn upat a corner.
Two dollars was chiefly paid for a
small box on the curb stone. The more
agile spectators fought for points of van-
tage on lamp posts and telegraph poles
and a string of humaniiy on every fire
escape led to a crowd on the house tops
trying to get a glimpse of the passing
show. :
Following the police staff officers and
aides, came the first division, 2,000
sturdy troops of the United States reg-
ular army in three brigades, and a fine.
appearance they made, the monotony
of the regulation dress being broken by
the bright uniforms of the officers. The
secOnd division was composed of the
United States naval brigade, 380 men.
The National Guardsmen constituted
the third division, with the First and
Second brigades New York volunteers
acting as escort to those of other states.
The fourth division was made up of G,
A. R. posts of this and other cities
numbering 6,000 men.” Tn the fifth di-
vision the United States letter carriers
were represented ; sixth division, New
York fire department ; seventh division
exempt ‘volunteers and veteran fire
men, in fifteen brigades; eighth divis-
ion, Italian military organizations;
ninth division, German American soci-
eties, and tenth division, independent
organizaiions. Everything tended to
make the Columbus military parade as’
grand a success as'it was possible to be.
One could not dream of better weather,
of brighter scenes of more numerous
and'joyous crowds or of a more attrac:
tive or soldiery body of men than New
York witnessed Wednesday. = But New
Yorkers were mot: alone in the en-
joyment of the pageant. Fully 250,000
strangers, it is estimated, witnessed the
parade, as well as probably an equal
number of people from Brooklyn, Jer
sey City, Hoboken, Westchester and
other counties and other surrounding
points.
(continued on siath page.)
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