Democratic watchman. (Bellefonte, Pa.) 1855-1940, October 21, 1892, Image 2
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.) a