e
“Bown tien
y Bellefonte, Pa., June 5, 1896.
NO WHEEL FOR ME.
Give me a pair of sturdy legs
And fair outfit of feet,
And I'll forego the bicycle,
However light and fleet.
Fer where's the wheelman knows the wood,
Or views the cloud-flecked sky ?
Or leaps the fence to meet a lass
A-comin’ through the rye ?
To every glimpse of loveliness
His set, grim eyes are blind ;
He only sees the skimming road,
And counts the miles behind.
And should he meet a maid a-wheel,
He can’t think aye or no
Ere he or she have whisked apart
A dozen leagues or so.
Then give me my convenient legs,
+ That go where’er 1 bid.
Heaven keep them always tireless
As when I was a kid !
— Buffalo “Courier.”
“MARYLAND, MY MARYLAND.”
John Gray put down the newspaper and
stood up, squaring his shoulders.
“It means war, mother. I’m going to-
morrow.’
The Puritan flamed in Mrs. Gray’s eyes.
‘Gio, my son, God be with you,’’ she said.
The clock ticked loudly ; a ray of sunlight
crept across the floor ; the curtain fluttered
in a passing breeze, and a bee droned lazily
through the room. Mother and son stood
looking at each other with a strained, eager
gaze. There was the same stern cast of
features, the keen gray eyes and firm chin,
but the straight lines of Mrs. Gray's
mouth were softened in her son’s. And
while his eyes grew moist and his lips
quivered, she was calm and unmoved,
though every beat of her heart sounded a
knell. ‘‘The only son of his mother, and
she was a widow’’—knell that rang
through many weary months that fol-
lowed.
¥ 0. ot * 2% %
The ninty days that were to end in peace
had long passed. Battles had been lost and
wen. The Confederate flag waved proudly
over the State House in Richmond, and its
stars numbered eleven. But in the proud
old city of Baltimore there was anger and
shame ; Maryland had not seceded, and
Union colors floated everywhere, calmly
defying the wrath of the hottest Southern
heart.
At the close of a long hot day, the droop-
ing flags began to move gently in the fresh
breeze that came from the bay. To the
tired Union "soldiers who had traveled
miles through the glaring sun, its cooling
breath was like a- benediction. They
marched through the streets, erect and im-
passive, with no sign of fatigue in their
regular tread. Line after line, guns flash-
ing, flags waving—there was no end to the
blue uniforms, the shrill fifes and rattling
drums, each added an insult.
Colonel Gray rode beside his men. As
they entered a wide street lined with state-
ly houses, he noted with a grim smile the
closed shutters and deserted piazzas, that
spoke eloquently of the fierce anger within.
No anxious figures stood in the doorways,
no glad eyes beamed welcome from the
windows. The street was void of life, and
the tramp, tramp of the regiment brought
no response but sullen echoes. Suddenly
his eye caught a gleam of color, a vivid
flash of red and white ; high on a portico
stood a young girl, wrapped in the confed-
erate flag. Her face of radiant beauty
shone like a star above the ‘‘Stars and
Bars.””- The Colonel unconsciously stopped
his horse and stared. = Her flashing eyes
caught and held his for’ a moment, with
scorn and defiance in their black depths.
He met her gaze steadily and passed on
grave and unmoved. Not so with his men,
who looked angrily at the rebel colors and
muttered fierce threats.
Some hours later John Gray was sum-
moned to headquarters where were several
warm and excited citizens. His superior
officer gave them into his charge with the
order to conduct them to the house where
the rebel flag had been displayed that after-
noon. Leaving the business portion of the
city, they drove into a wide handsome
avenue. Some distance away, a broad belt
of light from an open doorway fell across
the street. ‘‘That is the place,” said the
young officer. ‘Just as we expected !
Julia Lawrence !”’ exclaimed the gentle-
men.
As they neared the house, they heard
some one singing. The words came to them
on the still night air :
“The despot’s heel is on thy shore,
Maryland ! my Maryland!
His torch is at thy temple door,
Maryland ! my Maryland!”
An obsequious old black servant ushered
them into the parlor and went to call his
master. The music stopped abruptly and
John Gray stood face to face with the
scornful and beautiful girl who had defied
his men that day. The gentlemen sat
awkward and embarrassed, till Mr. Law-
rence came in. He was an old man, with
clear-cut, aristocratic features and white
hair. His dignified and courtly bearing as
he greeted his guests and remained stand-
ing by the young lady made their tasks no
easier. :
‘Pray be seated, gentlemen,’’ he said.
‘Thank you, Mr. Lawrence, but our
business requires haste. It concerns your
daughter,’ . said the confused official,
plunging headlong into his.errand.
‘‘Perhaps—’’ looking at her with an in-
quiring glance. ‘‘My daughter will re-
main and hear your business,’’ said Mr.
Lawrence stiffly. :
“Very well,” said the official as stiffly
in return. ‘‘It is ordered that Miss Julia
Lawrence be removed to some point within
the Confederate lines for her act of defiance
and treason this afternoor, in displaying a
rebel flag in this loyal city, thereby in-
sulting the United States troops. It is
further required that the order be carried
out with no delay. I have brought the
papers necessary to seeure her safe conduct
and that of anyone she may take with her.
Here are the papers and order. The utmost
limit is nine o’clock to-morrow morning.”
The silence that followed this speech was
oppressive. Mr. Lawrence instinctively
drew nearer his daughter who had grown
very pale. The two officials looked red and
uncomfortable. The officer stood apparent-
ly unmoved.
‘The United States government,” said
Mr. Lawrence, with cutting emphasis,
looking only at Colonel Gray in his Union
uniform, ‘‘must be very powerful if it fears
a young woman. It is a matter of congrat-
ulation to me, as a loyal Southerner, that
my daughter should be able to alarm
thousands of men who are said to form the
Federal army.”’
The young man reddened slightly under
this taunt, but his gaze did not falter.
Perhaps among his English ancestors may
have been a gallant Puritan, whose spirit
came to his aid.
‘‘If there is nothing further, Mr. Law-
rence, we will bid you good-night. We
assure you that your daughter will be safe-
ly conducted to her friends,”’ broke in the
official, seizing this auspicious moment to
retire from the field.
When they were gone the old man
turned to his daughter.
‘You were too daring, my dear. You
should have been more prudent.’
‘No, I wasn’t, father,’’ she said proudly.
“I’m glad there is one woman in Baltimore
who is not afraid to show her loyalty to
the South. And I'm proud that it is your
daughter, since you have no sons to go to
the war. They are afraid of me.”” And
then she suddenly broke down and sobbed
in her father’s arms.
As the day passed, the sullen tide of war
rolled steadily on, seeking new channels,
.| find himself lying in a large room, with
| gaining here, swept back there, but never
| pausing on its relentless way. It was the
| day after the great battle. John Gray came
| back through millions of miles of space,
back through a grand cavalry charge to
the sun shining through the open windows.
A fresh young voice was singing some-
where outside. As ina dream he heard the
words, ‘Maryland, my Maryland,’”’ and
tried to rise, but was helpless. In an in-
stant a kindly old -black face bent above
him.
| “What is yo’ want honey ?”’
‘Where am I ? ‘What has— ?”’
‘“Nevah yo’ mind honey, nevah yo’
mind. You w.s hu’t inde battle, and
Marse George he fetch yo’ hyah—.”” But
he had gone back through miles of space,
blank, staring, desolate.
They noticed after a while that in his
delirium he was conscious of one thing and
seemed to listen and hear it. There was a
young lady in the house who had a song
that she sang over and over. Wherever
Julia was they heard her humming it un-
consciously, and its echoes lingered and
followed her like the sweet perfume of
violets. This it was that quieted the
wounded soldier in his wildest paroxysms,
when he was sinking into limitless space.
So it gradually came to pass that Julia
spent much time in the sick room and
soothed him with her rebel song. ~~ |
‘When he was able to listen, Mrs. Carr
told him that Marse George was her son,
Colonel Carr, of the Southern army ; that
once after a battle Col. Gray had found
him wounded and dying, and had taken
him to his tent and cared for him until he
could be removed to a hospital.
‘So when our battle took place, just a
few miles from here,” said Mrs. Carr,
wiping her eyes, ‘and my son found you
bleeding to death from a sword-thrust in
your cheek and a gun-shot in your leg, he
brought you here. You have been very ill
but now your recovery is certain. We are
all in a conspiracy to take care of you, my
dear,’”” she concluded with a motherly
touch that brought tears into his eyes.
So the entire household, white and black,
turned to entertain ‘‘Marse Cunnel,”’ and
they found him a very grateful and pleas-
ant invalid indeed. But Julia took little
part in amusing and curing the Union of-
ficer, beyond polite inquiries as to his
health, though he heard her voice every-
where, and looked after her wistfully as
she flitted away. Mrs. Carr saw this and
expostulated with her.
‘‘Julia, really you carry your dislike for
the north to ridiculous extremes. You are
young and bright and ought to talk to
Colonel Gray. He has to pass many hours
of suffering every day.. Your kind heart
ought to tell you that, my dear, and at any
rate, do it for George's sake,”” said Mrs.
Carr, as a final argument from which there
could be no appeal.
‘All right, Aunty,’ said Julia slowly ;
“I will for George's sake and yours, but I
hate them all and I hate him, worst of all,
she added vehemently, under her breath.
But the time came when she enjoyed
this enforced companionship, and it came
to be understood that Miss Julia could
keep Marse Cunnel from getting lonesome.
They ignored the subject of war as far as
possible. Rumors of the conflicts and
| movements of great armies came to the re-
{ mote plantation, and they read the few
| newspapers without comment, for discus-
{ sion on these topics made John Gray’s eyes
| harden into steel and Julia’s flash fire.
| She still sang of Maryland and he grew
| to love the melody with its stirring words
and to long for it as thesign of her pres-
ence. He often hummed the refrain with a
light in his eyes that was not at all in keep-
ing with the sentiments of this Marseillaise
of the rebellion.
“You're very fond of your little song,
Miss Julia,’’ he said one afternoon, as they
sat in a quiet corner of the veranda, shaded
from the glare of the sun by a curtain of
vines. The wind made little eddies of dust
in the white road beyond and brought them
the myriad sounds of a ‘drowsy summer
afternoon. Otherwise there was no sign of
life, the plantation seemed waiting quietly
for something that was coming to call it
from its stillness. Julia's hands were busy.
She was always sewing garments that John
knew were, for the Southern soldiers. Her
rich, dark beauty, and the suggestion of
abundant life in her quick, free movements
formed a vivid contrast to the pale, worn
man. His right foot was carefully propped
on a chairand a dull red scarshowed plain-
ly on his pallid cheek. He was cutting a
little ring out of a black rubber button,
|
ly and often stopped altogether.
“You are very fond of your little song,
Miss Julia,”’ he said, smiling at her.
‘‘Yes,’’ she smiled back. ‘‘Maryland is
my native state and that is my favorite
song,’’ and she sang :
“Hark ! to a wand'ring son’s appeal,
Maryland, my Maryland ! *
My mother state, to thee I kneel,
Maryland, my Maryland !"
“I'll never sing anything else until I go
back home,’’ she said passionately, and the
tears were in her eyes.
A curious idea shot into his mind. There
came to him the remembrance of a summer
night not long ago—a band of light—a
voice singing that same air. With this
came the vision of a face of radiant beauty
that shone on him above a drapery of
‘‘Stars and Bars.’”’ She looked up sudden-
ly and met his startled gaze, only too well
divining the thoughts that had haunted
him.
“You are—"’ : :
“Yes,” she said composedly, though her
hands trembled. ‘I am the Julia Law-
rence you saw in Baltimore and whom you
banished. hg
‘And Inever knew, nor could tell what
| fancy haunted me every time I heard your
voice or saw you,’ he said in a low tone.
“I knew you the moment they brought
you to the house, even through the blood
and dust and powder,’’ she went on with
the same composed voice, her hands trem~
bling more and more. ‘‘I suppose it was
So common an experience that you soon
forgot, but I do not forget such a hard and
cruel and unnecessary order.”’ Yes, that
was the same scornful, defiant gaze. The
red scar on his cheek throbbed painfully
and the earth and sky reeled before him.
The little ring dropped from his nerveless
and his thin hands moved feebly and slow- | 8
hand and rolled to her feet ; she picked it
up and he took it, thanking her mechanio-
ally.
When I saw you wounded and per-
haps dead that night, I was almost glad,
as I remembered how Maryland had suf-
fered at the hands of your soldiers, and
how my old father had to suffer in" losing
his only child. For myself I am glad—
lad to bear any separation, any privation
or the South. I’ve staid with you,”’ she
went on in a burst of passion ; ‘‘you ought
to know how I feel, but I've stayed with
you for Aunt Emily’s and George’s sake.’’
“I am very grateful,’’ said the young of-
ficer slowly, ‘‘and I am very sorry to have
caused you so much additional pain.
Please don’t think you must stay with me
any more, even for Mrs. Carr and George.
‘Thank you, Colonel Gray, you ar@very
good. I shall avail myself of your kind
permission,’’ and she swept scornfully by
him into the house, and so out of sight and
hearing.
He sat alone the rest of the afternoon.
The children crept around to the porch but
he made no sign. ‘‘Reckon Marse Cunnel
be mighty sleepy to-day,’’ they whispered.
“But he was fighting a hard battle. Troops
of memories and a beautiful face and ten-
der voice came up before him. Surely
there had been times when her eyes and
voice meant more than foreed interest in a
sick man. Why once when she had asked
him what he would do with the ring he
was making, he had answered in a flash of
daring, “I’Il give it to you if you’ll let
me.” And she had turned red and white
and with shy, downcast eyes, had let him
try it on her finger. Oh, yes, he had re-
membered it all. He opened his eyes and
looked curiously at the homely little ring
with its rude carving ; there were the let-
ters “J. G.” and ‘J. L'’? He felt himself
sinking back into the old horrible, empty
space.
When he opened his eyes again the plan-
tation seemed to be waking. Down the
road was a small cloud of dust which grew
larger and a horseman came in sight, fo!-
lowed by another and another. They rode
up to the house talking and laughing. He.
could see their gray uniforms through the
vines, and hear the clank of their swords,
“and at their head rode George Carr.
There was a wild and joyful scene when
mother and son met. Julia came, gracious
and beautiful. The tired men threw them-
selves on the grass or sat on the steps, but
no one noticed the sick man in the quiet
corner of the veranda behind the screen of
vines. The whole place was astir and
throbbing with preparations of a royal
meal ‘‘foh Marse George and he’s sojar®’’
When they returned from supper the moon
was rising. It flooded the lawn and gave a
more than earthly charm to the house and
its surroundings. John Gray sat motion-
less. In the joy and excitement he was for-
gotten. If Julia thought of him, no one
knew it. She sparkled and glowed as she
moved among the soldiers, and her tones
were sweet and caressing as a mother’s.
He knew those tones—none better.
“0 Julia,” called George, ‘‘most of the
boys are from Maryland. You must sing
your song for them,’”” and he conducted
her with a grand air to the veranda steps.
The soldiers sat in hushed groups. The
moonlight shone full on the beautiful face
as she raised it to the s and sang with
all her soul in her voice, the passionate ap-
peal that roused every warlike feeling in
the breasts of her audience. She came to
the last verse :
“I hear the distant thunder—hum,
Maryland, my Maryland !
The Old Lines” bugle, fife and drum,
Maryland, m aryland !
She is not dead, nor deaf, nor dumb,
Huzza ! She spurns the Northern scum!
She breathes, she burns, she’ll come, she'll
come !
Maryland, my Maryland !"*
Every man leaped to his feet and rang
his sword in its scabbard. Then came a
burst of applause and they crowded to the
steps. Proud and happy, she took their
thanks and praises like a queen, but as she
turned away’ with a swelling heart, her
glance fell upon a white, haggard face,
whose eyes met hers with a burning gaze
that held all love, all pleading, all hope-
lessness. Her own faltered for an instant,
then she turned away and talked gaily to
the Confederate soldiers. But she knew
that a servant had come to take the help-
less man to his room, and above the
laughter and merry voices, she heard the
sound of a crutch and a step that moved
slowly and-feebly up the stairs along the
hall. 4
In the interest and admiration caused by
her beauty and singing, the soldiers heard
a highly colored version of her story. Some
one had read an account of it at the time.
‘By Jove ! we'll hunt him out and hang
him ! No soldier’s death for him ! Gray !
‘We've heard of his cavalry charges. We’ll
hang him !”’ swore the hot-headed youths.
The house grew quiet before ‘midnight.
When he was sure they were all sleeping
Colonel Carr went to his mother’s room.
‘Mother,’ he said, ‘‘we must get Gray
away at once and secretly, too. The men
are so roused over Julia and her wrongs
that IT couldn’t control them, if they found
him here. They would take him away
and kill him.”” Mrs. Carr grasped his arm
and turned white.” ‘“Poor boy! and he
saved your life !”’
They went softly to his room, and
George hurriedly whispered their errand.
John Gray was a brave man, but he had
no desire to be hanged and used as a tar-
et.
“I can get you safely beyond our reach
by six, and give you papers to ensure your
safe conduct to one of your own camps.
Good-bye, old fellow.”” The men silently
shook hands, and George went away. Mrs.
| Carr was weeping.
“Good-bye, my dear bby, good-bye’ she
sobbed, kissing his pale face.
“God bless you for’ your goodness to
me,” said John huskily, ‘and Miss
Julia ?’? he hesitated. :
‘She has retired, poor child, so over-
come that she cried herself to sleep.”
‘Say good-bye to her for me and thank
her for her kindness. Thank you all a
thousand times,’’ he broke down.
George came with two servants and they
carried him down stairs, across by the
quarters, to the stables where a carriage
was waiting. There were more hurried
good-byes and whispered messages, and
they were off. Slowly and softly at first,
and as John looked back, he saw high on
the balcony a little, white robed figure
with a white, despairing face, standing in
the mgonlight. Then the carriage turned
a corner that hid them from the house, and |
the horses flew down the road. On, on'in-’
to the night, farther from the house that
had sheltered him, away from the girl he
loved. “Under safe conduct!” It was
the irony of fate. Nearer and ‘nearer a
Union camp, nearer the old life, and so
forward with change of horses until he was
safe in the Northern lines. .
After some days two letters came to the
quiet plantation. Julia read both but Mrs.
Carr read only her own. Meanwhile the
tide of war crept sullenly southward, slow,
sure, resistless. It was early summer
again, and bloody work was being done by
both armies. They watched with fainting
hearts for the scanty news that reached
them at long intervals.» George was alive
“———
‘| the Union, and Julia’s voice had lost much
‘desperate encounters and fading hopes.
_ The plantation lay hushed in the golden
sunshine as with waiting something to
and well and they saw John Gray’s name :
mentioned in various engagements, but
now he was General Gray.
In a far off New England town, a stern
faced woman read of the same General
Gray, with pride that was tempered by a
great fear. Always the knell was tolling
in her heart ; and one day she read : ‘‘In
this battle the most distinguished Union
officer was General Gray. He was wound-
ed, while leading his men, but kept his
place and continued “to cheer them on.
They were successful, but General Gray
was fatally shot in the last charge. It will
be remembered that this brave officer—’’
the paper dropped from Mrs. Gray’s hand
and the knell went tolling on forever.
‘‘The only son of his mother and she was a
widow.”
And now the sullen tide was leaping
eagerly at the very foundations of the Con-
federacy. Maryland had remained loyal to
of its old glad ring. Time had wrought
sad changes in the plantation. Its broad
fields lay neglected and over-run with
weeds, many of the house servants had left
and the place wore a forlorn and deserted
appearance. They had received no news
for days, but there were wild rumors of
One day a soldier came riding up to the
house. He sat stiffly in the saddleand his
left arm was in a sling ; his uniform was
old and worn and so dusty that its color
was almost undistinguishable and an old
slouch hat hid his face. He spoke no word
as the wondering slaves gathered around to
assist him, but they knew him and called
joyfully :
“It's Marse George come home, Missus,
Marse George come home again !”’
Alas! how changed from the gallant
youth who rode away so proudly three
years hefore. |
“I have something for you Julia,” he |
said, after the excitement of his welcome
had subsided. ‘‘It was sent to me for you.
Let us go indoors mother.”’
Julia opened the package slowly. It held
a little black ring with the initials ‘J. G.”’
and ‘J. L.” rudely carved. And there
was a letter with the inscription, ‘“To be
given to Miss Julia Lawrence in case of my
death.” And the letter said :
‘Dearest, when you read this I shall be
in my grave. I hope you will forgive me
then and take my blessing for your good-
ness to me last summer. What you must
have suffered, dear, God only knows, but
you were so kind and brave that I never
suspected how you hated me. I was so
blind, and I loved you so, that when I
carved this little ring, I hoped you would
let me put it on your finger to wear for-
ever, and that we should spend our lives
together as we spent those happy summer
days.
Forgive me, it was a wild, vain hope and
I have suffered as much as you could wish
for my presumption. Will you take the
little ring, dearest, and think of me some-
times as a soldier who did his duty, and
whose greatest joy and grief were that he
loved the sweetest woman in the world.
God bless you and your Maryland for-
ever. Good-bye. JOHN GRAY.”
The curtain of vines swayed lightly in
the breeze and flecked the veranda with
light and shade. The wind made little
eddies of dust in the white road beyond
and brought the faint sounds of an old
voice that crooned fitfull :
“For life and death, for woe and weal, |
Maryland ! my Maryland !”
call it into life. And a girl, with a white
face and wide, unseeing eyes sat“watching
for something. But the presure of a little
black ring on her marriage finger told her
it would never come.—Helen Elizabeth
Wilson, Williamsport Dickinson Seminary. |
mr |
Too Dangerous to Pray.
Uncle Duff, hearing the noise, began to
pray ; Aunt Saluda joined him fervently ;
Sam listened stupidly and in suffocating
terror.
Fifteen cannon thundered together, over
beyond the bridge, and a flight of shells in
the air made a prolonged whirring noise,
followed presently by a rapid spluttering
of musketry in the woods at the lower edge
of the plantation. The regiment went
across the field at double-quick step, knock-
ing over the fences as they came in the
way. -
on, good Lor’, ef ye kin spa’de ole man
er leetle bit longer——'"began Uncle Duff,
but his prayer was interrupted by an ex-
plosion on both sides of the river, rival bat-
teries thundering at one another, and op-
posing lines of infantry exchanging long
rolling volleys.
Mrs. Farrow saw the cavalry scurry
away from their lurking place under the
river bank and disappear in the woods,
while four or five heavy field guns, drawn
by panting and over-worked horses, trund-
led rapidly along the red clay road, the
drivers whipping and swearing.
After a few rounds there came a short
lull in the bombardment, during which a
singular serenity pervaded the air and sky.
“Dar, now, Lor’, stopde wa’ right heah,
and lef’ de olgdarkey——"’
But Uncle’ Duff sprang to his feet as an-
other awful canonnade began, and a shell
burst on the railroad track in front of the
door. He forgot his prayer. 5
“Hell an’ fury !”’ he cried, dat’s danger-
ous! Gi’ me my hat, for de Lor’ sake!
I's gwine outen yer!” And he rushed
through the back doorway and across the
garden to the woods, followed by Sam and
Aunt Saluda.—From Lippincott’s Magaziue.
Pennsylvania Railroad Company’s Sum=
mer Excursion Route Book.
The Most Complete Publication of its Kind.
The passenger department of the Penn-
sylvania railroad company will on June 1,
publish its annual Summer Excursion
Route Book. This work, which is com-
piled with the utmost care and exactness,
is descriptive of the principal sume
mer resorts of eastern “America, with the
routes for reaching them, and the rates of
fare. There are over four hundred resorts
in the book, to which rates are quoted, and
over fifteen hundred different ways of |
reaching them, or combinations of routes
are set out in detail. The book is the
most complete and comprehensive hand-
book of summer travel ever offered to the
public.
Its 216 pages are inclosed in a handsome
and striking cover, in colors. Several maps,
presenting the exact routes over which
tickets are sold, are bound in the book. It
is also profusely illustrated with fine half-
tone cuts of scenery along the lines of the
Pennsylvania and elsewhere.
Any doubt as to where the summer
should be passed will be dispelled after a
careful examination of the contents of this
publication. :
On and after June 1 it may be procured
at any Pennsylvania railroad ticket office
at the nominal price of ten cents, or, upon
application to the general office, Broad
|| Lonspicu ous Residents are Fleeing to New York City.
| many were leaving the island for the city,
I said : ‘You surely do not think that we
| remarkably well supplied with medical
| the Cubans do, or rather did.
street station, by mail for twenty cents.
The Flight from Cuba. a
—S8pain’s Troops Make Terror.—All the Danger is
from Them—the Fact of a Man Being a Cuban is
Sufficient to Put His Life and Property in Danger.—
An Early End of the Conflict.
For some time Cuban dispatches have
been filled with references to the large
number of Cubans who are :leaving Ha-
vana for New York. The Cuban colony
here receives many additions upon the ar-
rival of every steamer from that port, and
many very prominent families have come
here to stay indefinitely. When asked
why they have left home at a such a critical
time, they shrug their shoulders and, show-
ing all of their pretty while teeth, say,
‘Oh, we think this summer would be too
hot for wus there,’ only they say it in
Spanish, for not a great many of the new-
comers speak English. :
“The truth of the matter is this,’ said a
prominent Cuban-American, as he calls
himself ‘‘people are leaving the island be-
cause they are afraid to stay there. A man
knows that his wife and children are at the
mercy of the Spaniards, and if he has money
enough to live on for a while out of the
country he very wisely packs up and leaves.
Being a Cuban is enough for a Spaniard,
and no matter what the Cuban’s position
may be toward the Spanish government,
the Spanish soldier regards him as an |
enemy. The women and children are no |
less sacred to him, and while our women |
.are comparatively safe in a city like Ha- |
vana, those living in the country are at the |
mercy of the atrocious Spaniards.” |
Among the most conspicuous people who |
have recently landed are Senor Machado |
and family. His is decidedly one of the
most prominent families in the eastern part |
of the island, and he lost a brother in the |
ten years’ war ; Senor Manrique and fam- |
ily, Senor Arturo Fout ‘and family, and
Senor Felipe Hartman and family. Senor
Ernest Brooks and family are among the |
latest arrivals, and he is the son of an Eng- |
lishman, who settled at Santiago, where he |
established a banking and shipping house
which is still in existence. With them
came Senor Luis Garzon and his family,
which is also a very old and prominent one |
at Santiago. |
Dr. Carlos Parrago, a leading lawyer
from Havana, has also arrived with his |
wife and children. Havana has also sent |
her most prominent physician, Dr. J. B.
Landeta, and his wife, who was a daughter |
of Bachiller Morales. Dr. Landeta is well |
known in Paris. With them came also a |
nephew of Bachiller Morales, Senor E. |
Bachiller bringing his ‘wife and sisters. |
Another very prominent family is that of |
Raimundo Cabrera, a celebrated lawyer, a
member of the committee of the Cuban |
party before the revolution. He is the |
author of several books, all of which have |
been translated into English ; and still |
’
|
|
i
another is that of Senor Alfonso, who is a |
relative of Aldama, the‘richest man that |
the island has ever known. Aldama was |
agent for the revolutionary government in |
the United States, and before leaving Cliba |
was worth over twenty millions of dollars. |
He gave the most of it to the cause of his |
country and the remainder of his property |
was confiscated.
Senor J. M. Berris, a business man, and |
his family have also recently landed from |
Havana. He runs a grocery establishment |
|
such as the largest ones here. A few of the
| other men who have come here, bringing |
their families, are Senor Luis Cowley, I
Senor Jose M. Bustillo, Senor Jesus Cow-
ley, Senor B. Birnes, Dr. Duenas, Dr. Julio |
San Martin, Dr. Francisco Chenard, Dr. |
Lucas Alvarez, Dr. Borrero Hechavarria, |
Dr. O’Farril, and Senor Lorenzo Portillo. |
Some of these are lawyers, some physicians, |
and other business men. ; i
One of the most prominent business men
among the newcomers, when asked why so
are all coming to New York. Four times
as many as those who have landed here
have gone to the south, to Mexico, Central
America, Jamaica and Europe. Why
shouldn’t we get away ? Many of the men
who have left are too old to fight, and oth-
ers who volunteered were in the way be-
cause there are no weapons for them. Some
people say, ‘But aren’t all of the physicians
needed there?” They are not. Cuba is
men, and every expedition lands some new
ones. The lawyers have nothing to do, for
one can readily see that people haven’t
time to engage in lawsuits. The two main
reasons for people getting away from the
island are that itis getting dangerous to
remain there, and then living is exceeding-
ly high and poor. The poor people are al-
most unable to get food, and even the rich
can get no vegetables or palatable things.
Of course, absolutely no amusements are
going on. The island isn’t the same. The
natives are full of life and animal spirits in
times of peace, and if ever a people enjoyed
themselves from year’s end to year’s end
‘‘Business is almost entirely at a stand-
still. Merchants of all classes everywhere
are closing their stores. Not 15 per cent.
of the merchants in Havana are clearing ex-
penses ; they are dismissing their clerical
forces, and so things go.
‘‘At the same time, everybody who has
left the island and all who are left behind
are hopeful. We really think that the war
will be over in three or four months. When
this war is ended we will hear no more of
Spain. Spain needs us, but we don’t need
her. We buy about thirty millions of dol-
lars’ worth of things- from her every year
that we could get cheaper in the United
States, and she doesn’t buy anything from
us. But the war will soon” be over. Our
people have settled themselves: comfort-
ably in or around the city, and when things
are settled we will go back home, and then
there will be plenty of work for doctors,
merchants, lawyers and everybody else. In
the meantime, we are full of hope, and we
who have come away feel that we can do
much more to aid Cuba Libre by being
here than we could had we remained at
home, where everything is in such a de-
pressed condition.—New York Sun.
‘The True “Measure of a Man.
‘The best place to take the true measure
of a man is, not at his place of business, or
at church, but at his own fireside. There
he lays aside his mask, and you may learn
whether he is a gentleman or a humbug.
No matter what his reputation may be, if
his children dread his coming home and his
wife swallows her heart every time she
asks him for a dollar, he is a fraud of the
first water. You can forgive much in a
fellow mortal who would rather make men
swear than women weep ; who would rath-
er have the hate of the whole world than
the contempt of his wife ; who would rath-
er call anger to the eyes of a king than fear
to the face of a child.
——The Boston Herald says that if Ma-\
jor McKinley endorsed notes for $118,000
when he was worth only $10,000, it came
very near to being a sixteen-to-one ar-
rangement.
| broad easy chai
FOR AND ABOUT WOMEN.
Gaylord, Kan., is said to be happy and
prosperous under the wise rule of seven
women. Antoinette L. Haskell, the may-
or of the little city, is described as by no
means an aggressive type of woman. Her
husband is a prosperous hanker and she _
has two sons. Mrs. Haskell has always
been interested in political and social
questions, and her lot has been cast with
the Democratic party. Miss Florence
Headley is city clerk, and only 20 years
old. The spare time that she has left after
fulfilling her municipal duties she devotes
to editing the Gaylord Herald, and per-
forms this office the more efficiently be-
cause she has in the last three years worked
up from the position of apprentice in a
printing office. Another of the rulers is
Mrs. Mary L. Foote, the police judge-elect
whose popularity is so great that although
she was a candidate in opposition to her
husband she defeated him by a large ma-
jority.
Two things were clearly demonstrated—
that the trimmed Kkirt in'all its glory has
been revived and that the balloon sleeve is
a thing of the past.
The coat and skirt gown, in linen, hol-
land, crash or pique, is considered the cor-
rect morning costume hy modish woman.
Skirts of wash-gowns are cut with the
utmost simplicity ; they have a gored front
and three wide gores on either side, leav-
ing a sloped seam for the centre back,
which is quite short, and of the same
length exactly as the front.
Sleeves are slightly less in width, but the
full puff drooping over the elbow divides
favor with the short, high puff which is ar-
ranged on the long, close-fitting sleeve,
Nim deep cuffs, finished with falling ruf-
es.
It has grown to be the fashion to make a
complete change of furniture, drapings and
the like at this season, and and to put our
homes in summer apparel ; to take up car-
pets and replace them with stain or mat-
ting. This is a great help toward keep-
ing the rooms cool in hot weather, besides
making them attractive to the eye. In re-
gard to matting and other cool summer
coverings, it is surprising for how small a
sum a floor can be laid with the cool cov-
ering. The winter carpet gains by the
summer rest and will last longer.
One need not be extravagant in furnish-
ing rooms in good taste for the heated
term, as with the use of a few bottles of
stain the floors can be darkened, and a few
more of gold, bronze or enamel will com-
pletely transfer the appearance of the
quaint old-fashioned chairs relegated to
the attic.
The heavy-looking winter portiere may
be replaced by the heavy ones of madras,
| art lace or simple scrim. Cushions, foot-
stools and divans, can be covered with
| dainty cretonne or denim, and the greatest
needful expense of a summer room, to look
most inviting for the entire season, would
be the purchase of a goodly number of low,
d rockers of rattan and
willow, to ‘scattered freely in every
available nook and corner.
Common gra} toweling with a red stripe
on each side mgkes a nice cover for a porch
pillow. At each side of the stripe was
worked a row of cat-stitching in red
madonna cotton, and on the upper side of
the pillow, also in red, the words ‘‘Sweet
be thy dreams.’”” Another one similar to
the last was of buff linen worked in brown
wash silks.
I must mention a line of ready made
suits of heavy linen crash. This is just
such looking stuff as our kitchen towels
are made of, only that it is woven wider.
It is made up in blazer suits and trimmed
with great pearl buttons.
The short blazer coat is rather the favor-
ite, but the Eton coat with a blouse vest
and white leather belt is much liked.
Some of these have the skirts laid in flat
box plaits and some are gathered. Others
again have circular or seven gored skirts,
trimmed very tastefully with white pique
and with white pique vests and belts.
Some are Eton and some are blazer, and a
few have Norfolk basques, with heavy
white lace insertion sewed down the straps.
They cost, ready finished, from $5 to $12.
The style and finish leave nothing to be
desired unless it was a more really intrinsic
value in the material of which they are
made. Still, it is always ‘‘style’’ that
costs more than material.
The very latest cosmetic, and the best, is
the lemon. In countries where they grow
as freely as apples do in the temperate
zone, this fact is appreciated, and their vir-
tues availed of ; but their admirable quali-
ties are worthy of wider knowledge. Lem-
ons are not so costly, even in the coldest
countries, that women may not easily af-
ford to use this tropical aid to the toilet.
In the care of the complexion it is inval-
uable, particularly in summer, when a few
drops squeezed into the water in which the
face is washed removes all greasiness and
leaves the skin fresh and velvety. A little
lemon juice rubbed on the cheeks before
going to bed and allowed to dry there will
remove freckles and sunburn and whiten
the skin, beside giving it a charming
smoothness and softness to the touch.
This should be done about three times a
week, both winter and summer, and is of
the greatest aid to such complexions as are
afflicted with enlarged and blackened pores.
These enlarged pores are due to deficient
circulation of the blood and are to be great-
ly aided by vigorous rubbing with a coarse
towel every time the face is washed.
Those who lead a sedentary life find the
circulation feeblest about the nose, lips
and temples, and these parts of the face
should been energetically rubbed and knead-
ed several times a day. When the pores
become distended the fine, invisible dust
in the air enters and clogs and blackens
them. Mere ordinary face washing, even
when warm water and soap are used, is not
sufficient to remove this dirt in the pores,
but the vigorous acid of the lemon will
cleanse and carry off all such unsightly
- blemishes."
In the West Indies a lemon bath is al-
most a daily luxury. Three or four limes
or lemons are sliced into the water, which
is drawn half an hour before using, so that
the fruit juice may have a chance to per-
meate and the deliciousness of such tub-
bing must be felt to be appreciated, The
sense of cleanliness and freshness it gives
and the suppleness and smoothness it im-
parts to the skin is an experience not soon
forgotten. The lemon is more than a sub-
stitute for the bran bath bags which were
inserted by the French and which exquis-
ites think so necessary for the toilet.
Lemons are also used in caring for the
teeth, half a teaspoouful being -squeeezed
into a glass of water, and for the hair.
For this purpose cut a juicy 1émon in half.
Dip the head into tepid water. Rub and
squeeze the lemon over your head. Wash
in the lukewarm water, rinse in fresh water
of the same temperature and towel vigo-
rously. Do this once a week. :
Fp——
>