fnSjfi I Ml ..I i I TifMffi?5IR.aEia THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH SECOND PART. PAGES 9 TO 16. NTEAiDTHEEECOED. What the Great Congressional Journal Will be for 1889. SOME CHANGES IN THE STAFF. Specialists to Dish Up the Disorderly Doings in the House. SO EXPENSE TO BE SPARED, AS USUAL rwKITIEN FOB TIIE DISPATCH. 3 In the Dome of the Capitol at Midnight at al late hour. J ASHINGTON, v.w A pssesscs sa I Bthing more in- PT)- s kg fc teresting to one fr-B t u r e perhaps than its extensive offices of its Con gressional Rec ord. This paper never opened the year with bright er prospects than it does now. Its age now begins to give it a solid ity, which, as a young squint ot a journalistic venture, it did not heretofore possess. For its coming year, it will therefore be bright, breezy, racy, fresh, gossipy and still instructive in a high degree. While catering Jo the tastes of the careful student, it will also bubble over this year with parenthetical "laughter," and "prolonged laughter" will be an everyday occurrence. There will be articles of interest from time to time, by some of our most enter taining Congressional writers. Notable ar ticles on Dakota by Cox, war history by Ingalls, Sherman and others. Special ar ticles will appear from time to time, by its best writers, both in the House and Senate, wen who will, during the present year, give up more of their time to the preparation of such addresses or essavs for the Record, and less to making speeches than heretofore. In pa't years there has been too much delivering of these speeches or opin ions, and the printing has been con sidered secondary; but now the editors of the Record hope to print the best work of Congress, in advance of its delivery, or in many instances giving much better and entirely original matter in the Record. Page alter pace of the magazine will this year be used lor this purpose exclusively by the publishers and thus it is hoped that those who have heretofore gone to the House or the Senate to listen to a speech, wilt be come paying subscribers to the Record, in order to get moie and better literary stuff. A PROSPECTIVE MILLENNIUM. It is thought that the time will come at last when Congress will be merely opened with the aid of a powerful prayer, and then the various associate editors of the Record will repair to their committee rooms, thus refreshed and purified, to write their edi torials for the great magazine and its eager readers. In the humorous department several changes will be made with great advantage to the paper; it is thought Senator Kiddle berger will give less time to histrionic humor hereafter, and thus have more leisure for sparkling and bubbling in the columns of the Record. Heretofore many of his last things were not reportwl, as the blue pencil has slaughtered his brightest and toodiiest humor. He will now hare a chance to do his best and see that his work is properly printed without change. Mr. Riddlcbergcr will also handle the laughter font and(hicl) galley under contract with the editor of the .Record, with a positive obligation on his part not to contribute to any other paper in the meantime. This may read like a puff for the Con gressional Record, but I feel a growing in terest in the paper which is far above mer cenary considerations. The paper is one that I have watched with much solicitude for many years. It has had a hard struggle and other papers have hopped on it in a critical war that made mr heart bleed. .Now it is prospering. It has a good staff, and, best of all, it is backed by Congress with writers like Preston B. Plumb and Amos J. Cummings, old journalists, who can write a speech for themselves or others whose heads may give them pain when they try to use them for thinking purposes; with a hell-box full of statistics and a two-bushel coffee Back full of pietry, tosay nothingof the pick-ups or picks-up rather, in theway of prolonged sensation, applause in the gallery and cries of "shet up. "J COMING NOVELTIES. The Record is better equipped than ever before, and yet there will be no addition made to the price. A Representative who is also the associate editor, tells me that they think of making the Record also an illustrated magazine at no distant date. Senator Brown, of Georgia, will contribute with valuable articles on table etiquette, and Senator Stamford will prepare a treatise on "How to Acquire a Competency; or, The Mighty Masterpiece of a Self-Made Man." An ex Senator from Florida will prepare an article of 2,000 words on the question, "Is Marriage a Failure?" Hon. Daniel Webster Toor hees, of Indiana, will write a continued story about the war. He will be followed by an Old Soldier and many citizens. Senator Edmunds will write something on the care of the hair. He will be followed by Senator Spooner, of Missouri. Senator Ingalls will do the paragraphing for the Record this year, and Senator Quay will oversee the job printing. It is a bright, cheery sight indeed, at a later hour of the night to drop in and see the staff at work on the forthcoming paper. In the midst of it nil a member of Congress hurries in with a bicycle item, marked "must," or a panting secretary comes in with something for the chess column. All Sen, Hoards Galley. are alive, all are busVj and, with tireless hand and rambling brain, they are gettine together the great paper which is soon to meet the eye of the eager reader. DISTINGUISHED MECHANICS. At the desk Mr. Cox is measuring the string lor an employe, while at a case near by Senator Hoar is looking over a galley of Ins forthcoming speech and sprinkling it with applause. The grateful perfume of honest perspiration and hot roller composi tion greets the senses, such as they are. Anon theie is a timid knock at the door, and Tom Iteid, of Maine, comes in with a littlepoem which he would like to see in type if it be worthy. He says he will sur round it by a speech if necessary, in order to get it printed. Then a member from JDil Mississippi runs in with a speech which he desires to have substituted for the one de livered at the morning session of Concress. Next comes the Chaplain, who just remem bers that he was a little ungrammatical to God in opening the House, and desires, not for his own sake especially, but on behalf of the cause he represents, to have the correc tion made, also to add anotner line to the couplet with which he closed his prayer, otherwise it might not be accepted at the Throne of Grace. I do not think I am over sanguine when I say that the Congressional Record is the coming paper. It embodies all the good features of many more voluminous publica tions, and yet is ever fresh. At least it is just as fresh as it ever was. It combines all the earnest form of an English joke book, with the frothy finsers and statistics of a census report, the bright personal informa tion of a city directory with a dog chain on it, the gentle pathos of the tax roll for 1888. The thrill and throb embodied in a 1,000 mile coupon book over the Tip Up and Whistle Kailrqad, and the blood curdling plot found in Noah Webster's works. SOME NEEDED EEFOEMS. The management feels that it has the right of what the people want, and every effort will be made to furnish a long felt want. Heretofore a great deal of criticism has been engendered by the loose and un satisfactory way in which personal alterca tions, and drunk and disorderly proceed ings hnve been reported tor the Record, so that frequently, the onlv thing in which a subscriber could be interested for a week perhaps, was either suppressed or garbled in such a way that the subscriber and con stituent is left in the deepest doubt as to whether the representative for his district was victorious or not. Now it will be differ ent Earnest men will be detailed with nothing; else to do, but report the crimes and misdemeanors. The applause editor will be dispensed with, each man being al lowed hereafter to insert his own applause, as his good judgment and fine discrimina tion may suggest. For the coming year, the Record will also award prizes to large clubs in order to ex tend its circulation over our entire land. Hiddlebergcr. the Printers' DcviU Bound copies of the i?econi will be offered to those getting up the largest cash club. Bound copies of the Report ot the Commis sion on Diseases of Swine for 1878 will be given to those making the next best record. This book is especially interesting, and should be on every center table. It is well Erinted, and his bright red pictures if the og in health and disease. Neither the hog nor the author should be ashamed of his works, so long as they are so well handled. The study in congested livers is alone worth the price of the book. The report of the curculio commission illustrated, will make another prize book. Also a treasure entitled, The Home Life of the Bott, showing the bott in health and disease, so that anvone can pick ont a robust bott in an instant. The Loudest Resonant Report of the Microbe Commis sion will be offered as a prize. THE PUZZLE DEPAKTaiEHT. The Record will also ask the- public to guess the number of beans0 in a jar which will be hermatically sealed. Anyone acting in good faith mayguess the number of beans contained in the jar, by paying 60 cents, and it successful, he Will have to get up pretty early in the morning. If he should not succeed in guessing the right number, he will still have a chance to subscribe for the paper, provided he Bhall act in good faith. In closing, I will say that the next ten years will sec great change in what we may be pardoned Tor calling Congressional journalism. The Record will, ol course, be the organ of Congress, as it were, but it will be held in higher esteem, became Congress will do more "writing for it instead of doing so much in a declamatorv way. The Con gressman of the future will be more of a student, and will try harder to build up his paper than he has. Heretofore our Ameri can Congress has virtually said to the Record, "You go your way and I will go mine. You Bend a man to get my speech as I talk it off Reed's Poem. to the spell-bound, apple-eating audience in the balls of debate, or go without it." In the future the Congressional Record will u. it.- - :.. i. j i. t- i "t MS ST, . tions, erasureor interlineations, and thus, whether the speech be delivered or not, the public will not be deprived of it. TUKELT INDEPENDENT. The Record will continue, however, in the future as it lias been in the past, strictly in dependent in politics, believing that a suc cessful paper cannot afford to pander to the coarse demands of either party, and so the Record will do ho pondering whatever this year, but try to build up the paper, and let other industries look out for themselves. Ex-Congressmen who may be in town, are cordially invited to visit the office during their stay, and sleep in the pressroom when driven out by thankless hotels. No manuscript will be paid for by the Record unless an arrangement to that effect has been previously made. Births and deaths made in good "faith, will be accepted at ?1 if set in nonpareil type. The Record will next vear establish in Europe a branch to be called The Keich siag Woopenblatter. Both papers will be furnished to one address at the regular price to subscribers in good laith, who will also have a chance to guess at the beans. To those who are contemplating a visit to Washington, let me say that the latch string of the Record office is always hang ing out and friends from all over the land are cordially invited to drop in any day and bring their dinners or feed their teams iu front of the office. Visiting cards with inflammatory floral designs on them, struck off at a moment's notice. Also equestrian printing of every description, address the Congressional Rec ord, Washington, D. C. Bill Ntb. Copyright, 18S9, by Edgar W. Nye. Good at Iler Trade. New York Sun.3 Miss Gossip Do you think I would make a good business woman? Miss Snyder I most assuredly do, my dear. When ever you get hold of anything you make more out of it than anybody I ever heard of. $& 4 CLUBS FOE WOMEN. The Imitation of Men a Harsh Note of Modern Civilization. SOME .EES0RTS FOE BOTH SEXES. Ceaseless Change as the Popular Eecipe for Enjoyment. 0UIDA ON THE EFFECTS OF CLUB LIFE rWEITTEN FOB THE DISrATCH.J iiii enormous in crease in men's clubs is a singular feature of modern society. Their name is legion; their uses manifold and their influences complicated. Their latest effect is likely to be the most im portant of all; it is their creation, though imitation, of women's clubs. It may cer tainly be stated, without possibility of con tradiction, that had there been no men's clubs there would never have been any women's clubs. The uneasiness of women to imitate men, politically, personally and socially, is a distressing note of modern civilization. It is artistically a mistake, it is probably also one morally. It is unlike ness which lends interest to intercourse quite as much as sympathy and it is differ ence which constitutes charm in companion ship, as well as comprehension. The land scape which is uniform is tiresome and so is uniformity of character. The mere fact that women should wish for clubs indicates the immense change which has taken place in the habits and wishes of the sex. Clubs merely supply to men, in a handy and condensed shape, what they possessed before; hut to women they offer wholly new and possibly questionable ad vantages. If a woman wants a club it is indicative that her home does not gire her much that she wants; she may be a busy or an idle person, but she is at all events one who loves the streets, like Dr. Johnson, and finds pleasure in being associated with strangers. To those who are still of opinion that the finest flower of womanhood is a sensitive plant best cultured in shade and silenre this indication will not be welcome. The kind of woman who will enjoy a club will not be of the highest order; she will be a chatty, gregarious, sociaoie, prouauiy fussy and gossiping woman, or she will belong to that eminently unlovely and un lovable olass of women who is, in sporting phrase, "hard as nails," who wears glasses, dissects live kittens, and writes learned essays to prove the nothingness of every thing; a truly horrible and appalling class which it is the especial destination of the nineteenth century to have produced. CLUBS FOE BOTH SEXES. These two orders of women, with those other women who are humdrum, hurried and occupied in gaining their own liveli hood in the most meritorious, hut uncom fortable manner, will furnish the ladies' club with their members; at least those ladies' clubs from which men are excluded. Those to which men are admitted will so ex actly resemble Hurlingham, Sandnngham, the New Club and all other places where men and women already meet that they are not worth discussing. They will offer agree able facilities for rendezvous, and this will become the chief end and object very natur ally; possibly when one or two tremendous scandals have had their headquarters in them they will be shut up with a tremendous noise and uproar, and society will be neither the bettet nor the worse for them. What are essentially women's clubs are those to which women onlv are admitted, as men's clubs are essentially those to which men only have access; clubs to which both men and women go are mere places of promiscu ous social resort such as have existed from the days of Rnnleigh and the Palais Eoyal. They do not affect nor alter the social rela tions of the sexes in any way whatsoever. Clubs to which men alone go have greatly acted on those relations; although only ex tending liberties and publicities which men previously enjoyed, they have facilitated men's seeking and finding their bien ctre, both mental and physical, elsewhere than at their homes, in general society or with the women to whom they are attached. They have increased the already large capa bilities which men possess "for enjoying themselves in the company of their own sex and have as their greatest disadvantage the tendency to make men iudolent and lax before the requirements of general society. But these influences are only extensions of those which surrounded all male'life before the modern club existed; the corresponds influences of the same nature which clu' life lor women will bring into women's tem peraments, associations and habits is a very much wider and graver matter; the change which female clubs, should they obtain any great development, will occasion in the fe male sex will be very extended, and it is not difficult to predict of what kind it will be. ATTBACTIONS OF CLUB LIFE. If, as men generally say, club life tends to make men absorbed in creature comforts and in a day of small things, it will tend to detach women more and more from those unselfish affections which demand continual sacrifices of both time and comfort. The comfortable loungiug-chair, the ready-cut journals, the well-cooked dishes and the surrounding atmosphere of cheerful gossip will seem much more alluring than the vigil of the sick-bed, the fretfulness of the feverish child or the long day alone with books and needlework and household ac counts which is xhe fate of the woman of the middle classes when her father or her hus band is away at his business offices, banks or law courts. The club, if she have once entered it, will draw her to it as surely as a magnet iron; opinions may differ as to the good or evil of the effect, but we may be quite sure that Penelope will not be satis fied with her web ever afterward; she will find out where her own comfort and conven ience lie, and she will go to them. In the innumerable receipts which teem in the press for the concoction of human happi ness it is significant that none of them ever suggest that it should be found at home. That idea is too old-fashioned to be thought of for a moment; it has been put aside on a back shelf among the cobwebs with the let ters of Mrs. Cbapone. All amusement and interest must, it is taken for granted, come from without. A WOMAN OF THE WORLD. The life of the woman of the world passes in incessant uiuvciucut, pimucai or social, aitKArdtnir trt pr hlAG! if. is filled ttrA nvar I filled by incessant rounds of house parties, continual changes of scene and climate.of ten long and varied voyages, innumerable en gagements crammed on the top of one an other into every hour, now ana then only, a brief, breathless, impatient pause, if any one dies so near related that momentary re tirement is as unavoidable as crape. The schemes for making the working peo ple happy, of which so much is said ad nauseam, are all based on the same lines. They are to be asked out to rich people's drawing rooms or to be drawn, as a swarm of bees is drawn by the tinkling of pots and pans, about a big organ in a large glass or brickwork building. It never seems to oc cur to anyone that they might by any possi bility whatever be happy beside" their own hearths. The infinite indulgence of a cease less restlessness is the sole modern recipe tor the only form of enjoyment which modern society it capable ot conceiving. The ex press train is its ideal and symbol. To fly as fast as possible from one point ot the Jrn&isk SB wvwS Jd PITTSB-DKG, SUNDAY, compass to another, scarcely taking breath to alight, is the modern incarnation of heaven. To be in Yosemite one hiy, and in Yucatan the next, is the one form of enjoyment aud instruction which the mod ern mind can compass; the multitudes, who have only Sundays or public holidays, or Easter, or Whitsuntide weeks in which to imitate the example set them by their'social superiors, cram themselves into excursion trains and waste their few rare leisure hours in noise, dust, labor, fatigue, perspira tion and expenditure, to return jaded, out or temper, out or poccet, and too olten more than half drunk. They are incessantly told that they require a "change," nobody ever tries to make them understand that rest after toil, repose after exertion, silence after noise, the mere stillness of the limbsafter long exertion are in themselves happiness. OUIDA. SINGULAR PREMONITIONS. A Man Twice Saves His Life by Obeying; Mysterious Impulses. A few minutes after the fall of the Willey building on Wednesday last, while a crowd was gathering to view the ruins in which so many mangled and dead people lay, a stranger who was gazing at the wrecked structures from the opposite side of Wood street entered into a conversation with a Dispatch reporter. Said he: , "For about five years on every week day I have passed along that side of Wood street at about the hour this terrible disaster occurred. To-day I was on my way to Fifth avenue, and had reached the Chamber of Commerce building when a sudden impulse came upon me to take the other side of the street. 1 crossed over, and before I reached the sidewalk the crash came. Had I kept along as I was going I would have been in front of the Weldin building just in time to be crushed by bricks and falling timber. I can no more account for the action which probably saved my life than you can; I simply felt that I must do it, and I do not know that I felt even a premonition of danger. "Years ago I escaped being robbed and possibly murdered in a way that was equally remarkable. At the time I was a collector in the province of Ontario. One bitter cold winter evening I found myself in a small town about 50 miles from Toronto with a large sum of money in my possession. Having determined to go to Toronto that night on the 9 o'clock train I telegraphed to the hotel where I usually stopped and asked that a room be reserved tor me and a fire put in it. When the train came along I got on the front of the smoking car, walked through that car, through the next one.then got off and went to the telegraph office and sent another message to the Toronto hotel stating that I had changed my mind and was not coming that night. What made me do so was more than I could tell the same indefinable impulse that controlled me to-day had possession of me. "I went back to the house where I had taken supper and remained there all night. The next morning I read in the Toronto paper, of an assault and attempted robbery of a man who bad arrived in that city on the train I was going to take but did not. The man was sandbagged while on his way from the depot to the hotel, and from the description given he must have been my exact counterpart dress, size, color of hair and even the cut of his whi.-kers, being like my own. The thugs had mistaken him for me, and they knew I had money." TUB LITTLE BOI LIED. A Mischievous Youngster Gets Into Disgrace . Willi BU Playmnte. A $ -year-old Pittsburg boy has taken a great liking to a little girl named Fannie, who lives in the next house. Fannie is the proud possessor of a very small shaggy dog, who is a great favorite with both 'the children. The other day Freddie went over to see Fannie, but finding that she was absent asked permission of her mother to play with the dog. This was granted, and the boy and the dog disappeared to gether in the back yard. Half an honr later Freddie trudged back into the house alone and announced that he was going home. The lady asked: "Where is the dog, Freddie?" "Oh I He'th all right," said 'the lisping prevaricator as he went out, giving the words an emphasis that called to mind the popular cry of the ante-election marching clubs. But the dog was far from being all right, and the sequel showed that this was another case where "the little boy lied." The Udy went to look for her daughter's pet and found him almost completely submerged in a tub of water. The poor animal was in a drowning and perfectly helpless condition. A few seconds more in the tub would prob ably have finished him. As it was, it re quired a good deal of exertion to resuscitate the creature. He was rolled on the floor, then wrapped in warm blankets and placed near the kitchen fire, and eventually came to, but ior a while it looked as though poor Tiger would soon breathe his last. Freddie has kept away trom Fannie's house ever since this incident, and the girl says she will never speak to him again. EAZORS NEED REST. A Barber Tells home Curious Facts About Shaving Instruments. "Razors Eometimes need rest," remarked a Pittsburg barber. "They get out of order with constant use, but if laid away for a few weeks are often restored to their iormer con dition." "How do you account for such a singular fact?" "Well, I am not a scientist and hardly competent to answer so difficult a question. But I have heard this explanation, which to me appears to be a reasonable one. The grain of the finest razor is so sensitive that its general direction is changed by constant service and lrequcnt stropping. When the blade is new the grain runs from the upper end of the outer point in a diagonal Direc tion toward the handle.The steel, with use, undergoes a change until the grain appears to run straight up and down, and at last the direction of the fiber becomes completely reversed. The temper is affected at the same time and the razor becomes unfit tor use. Put it away and give it a rest for a month or six weeks and it becomes as good as new. "Whether this be the true explanation or not, it is certainly a fact that the finest razors appear at times to get tired, and can not be kept in good condition until ti.ey have had a rest." IT'S DAI HAS GONE BY. A Once Popular Preparation Almost Entirely Out of Use Now. "Hair oil? Yes, sir. Here is some of the finest. Will you have a 25 or a 60 cent bottle?" After the sale had been made and the customer had departed, the druggist's clerk turned to a Dispatch reporter who had dropped in for a chat and a cigar and vol unteered the'intormation that he hadn't sold a bottle of hair oil before for three weeks. "A few years ago," he said, "the trade in this kind of goods was brisk. Now it is next to nothing. The trouble is that hair oils have gone out of use almost entirely not one man in a hundred puts it on his hair regularly. Some allow the barber to oil their hair occasionally, but a great many object even te that. Hair oils are not in favor in these days." Disabused. New York Snn.3 Bessie You are always making mistakes, dear. George Yes. I thought all along that you loved me. JANUARY 13, 1889. THE AB0DE.0F GRIME. Lillian Spencer Visits the Scene of the Wliitechapel Murders. ONE-ARMED LIZ TELLS HER STORY. A Phase of Human Life Worthy of the Pen of Sickens. INEFFICIENT LONDON DETECTIVES. COEEESFOvDENCEOFTnE DISPATCH. ONDON, January 3. If Charles Dickens were living to-day he would write a great novel on that part of East London known as Whitechapel, and thereby give to the world a pen-picture of a phase of life which in no other city has a parallel for filthy squalor, brutal viciousness, depraved crim inality and moral degradation. In no other city would such n foul precinct be tolerated. In none other could it have sprung into ex istence at all, for nowhere else is there such a heterogeneous mass of ignorant, unkempt, human beings, crowded together in such abodes of dirt and corruption as here; in the wretched shambles which, under the name o common lodging houses, go to form the dwelling places of the inhabitants of Whitechapel. A Lodging House in Whitechapel There is a saying to the effect that one half the world does not know how the other halflives This saying certainly ought to have originated in London, for nowhere else are people so singularly incurious re garding the very monuments in their midst. Of course Whitechapel is known to Londoners, but Londoners (or rather in habitants of the 'ashionable parts of Lon don) are not known to Whitechapel. If the sordid characters of its murky confines were lamilliar to their eyes, the horror and frequency of its crimes would be less ap palling to their ears. Charles Dickens would have reveled in the Whitechapel of to-day. He would have found in it a great field for his creative genius. TALKING "WITH TOBY. One cannot wander through the dingy streets and mix with the jostling throng without vividly recalling to mind the works of the distinguished writer. Keenly alive to the impressions conveyed by the living, breathing mass of humanity sweep ing by, one fancies him on the spot, stop ping for a moment to look into the painted face ol the woman in draggle-tail, gaudy skirts and huge feathered hat, pushing her way along, and thereby creating another Nancy Sykes; of standing within the shadows of Christ Church and finding another "Poor Joe" in the pale, hollow eyed, ragged urchin, whom a gruff police man is by no means-gently urging to "Move on." An entirely original character would have sprung Irom his facile pen, could he have come in contact with big-hearted, frank-spoken, generous, half-starved Tobv. a tattered, tramp-like personage, who, with several other correspondingly tramp-like companions is out hunting .a clew to a famous murder recently committed, which offered a liberal reward. Toby. "I didn't know'd llPf tn foil- i :j rur' a,1jnd,in no doubt to the victim, "but I know d she'd git done some time. She wussent pertikler enuff, and I wnssent a bit oyiiMu wnen u i necrd as ow it wus er And im that done 'er, I kin tell yer this bout lm, 'e wusnt none o' the kind thet puts hup at a sixpenny class; not'e. Thet chap that done 'er, thet chap, 'ez got a room to wash hisself hm and ez got time to do hit Another character worthy of Dickens with which I came in contact, and one he would have unquestionably made famous, was that of a woman known among her associates as "One Armed Liz" n v vT )h ? & Liz. Liz was also supposed to be in possession of evidence in the case Toby was at work upon; and the police were pleased to regard her testimony as important, which circum stance brought her into great prominence in theeyes of her fellow-followers. She was willing for the price of a bed to tell all she knew, and manufactured all she didn't. She occupied a bare room in a barrack-like lodging bouse. She was not very beauti ful to look at, nor agreeable to converse with, but the "heroine" of the hour, for all that. The ceiling of the apartment in which she held her court was so low that an ordinary-sized, man could not have stood erect under it. The wajls were as black as the grime of many years could make them. The rough, .unsteady planks of the floor . were encrusted with dirt, and the small round windows were so thick with a like accumulation that to have seen three feet beyond them would have been an utter im possibility, "ONE-ARMED LIZ" EECITES. Liz stood bv a broken stove, the chimney of which smoked suffocatingly, brandishing a long.crooked-pronged forkin herthin.bony hand. A fish sizzled uneasily in a skillet. Occasionallyshe slapped it over, first on one side, then on the other. The 'atmosphere of the place reeked with stale tobacco and gin soaked, fetid breaths, for Liz was not alone I Her neighbors bad dropped in to keep her company. Huddled in a heap together, they represented poverty in its every stage 1 She was telling what she knew of the mur dered woman, and her eloquent discourse was eagerly drunk in by her morbid listeners. "I know'd er in life, I'm a mornin' 'er in death," said Liz pathetically.as she slapped the fish over on its side, "an''I could pint my finger on the blarsted chap that done 'er el 'e wus 'ere. But 'e aintl 'E's walkin' up and down in the crowd out there and 'e's a cool un, e his. But I know d 'er as soon es I see 'er! Its Dark Annie I sed and I stooped and kissed 'er poor cowld face!" A halo of vapor arose from the fry-pan and incircled Liz's head, as she delivered the last words of her harangue, and her bearers gazed spell bound and awe-struck at the spectacle while the inspired prophetess con tinued turning the fish! The scene was at once gruesome and ludicrous but strongly suggestive of the people and the place! The inhabitants of Whitechapel do not seem to have any particular occupation. The men loaf in the public bouses, and the women parade up and down the streets. Most of them are known to each other by nick-name only. Little heed is given their comings and goings. They may disappear from their accustomary haunts without being missed. The taking off of one, more or less, is a matter of little importance. The women are, if possible, more depraved than the men. If they have 4 pence thev pur- cnase a oea at night, if not they sleep in doorways or sheds. The thoroughJares of this district are infested with drunken ruf fians and thieves, but the shops are bril liantly lighted and the passersby careless to a degree. Police in uniform and plain clothes patrol the beats; churches throw open their doors and ring out a welcome in vitation, to which those invited do not re spond. No one lays any claim to beingbetter than his neighbor. All are waifs of thesame streets; frequenters of the same vile resorts; companions of the same malefactors: living the same dissolute lives, dyipg the same horrible deaths. The ignorance among this herd of humanity is almost savage even the higher instincts and sensibilities of the brute are lacking. Superstitious, untaught, evil-minded, they attribute their ups and downs in life largely to supernatural agen cies, and nothing could indnce them to "pal in" with one who had the "evil eye," even though (to express it in their own ver nacular), he was spending the "swag" of a successful "bustj" which, I take it, means well supplied with ill-gotten gains. THE WHITECHAPEL SENSATION. The frequency of crime in this vicinity is such that no particular sensation was caused when the first, second, third, and even fourth, of the "Great Whitechapel Mur ders" came to light While the world at large stood appalled with horror, the people ot East London shrugged their shoulders, heavily burdened with their iron cares, and went unheedingly on their way. The mur ders they assumed to have been the freak of some gang of cut-throats known to infest in great numbers the neighborhood. As for the victims, who were they that honest folks should waste pity upon? Some such reasoning mnst have passed through the minds of the callous multitudes to render it so calmly impervious to the fate of the poor unfortunates who, even though the off scourings of the streets, still deserved some commiseration for their terrible deaths. As1 .'or the attempts of the police t? trace the criminals, they fell so far below the standard of foreign countries, and even be low the level usually attained in such cases by the authorities of provincial towns, that a perfect hue' and ory was raised against the force from all quarters, when another and still another ghastly murder was uo earthedl "We have no clews, no basis to start from,no link to connect the women with any known characters in the district," said the police. I don't know how it impresses other people, but it occurred to me.that with all the necessary facilities placed at their disposal they nu'ght, had they been endowed with the skill of the Parisian or Ameri can detectives, have succeeded in tracing a possible connection between the victims and thus supplied the missing links and brought to light the hidden motive. The cause ot a murder is not likely to be found floating upon the surface, nnr the insenuity of the average English detective of that originality which would lead him to dive under for it. The continuation of the e butcheries, of course, arooed the sluggish emotions of the people of Whitechapel. Then they went to the other extreme, and became irenzied, even forming themselves into .bands and organizing clubs for their better protection. Finally a reign of terror settled down in the community. I spent considerable time in Whitechapel during my sojourn in London. As a result I came to tbe just conclusion that much is to be said lor its homeless outcasts. In many cases no avenue by which they can honestly earn their bread is open to them. Consequently they are driven to earn it on the streets. They are indeed children of adverse circumstances and unhappy des tiny, and it is no fault of theirs if they swell the populaticn of the great city, one and all on the downward path, and a dizzy, pre cipitory path it is. Impossible to go down only on a run! They tell us "There is a soul of goodness in things evil," that "out ot evil comes good," and that "our poor bleeding humanity is groping its way over a sin-smitten world to sublime destinies." Let us hope this is the truth, particularly where such unfortunate beings are con cerned. LILLIAN SPENCEB. PRINTED WORDS, INSTEAD OP JARGON. An Improved System of Announcing1 the Names of Railroad Stations. As a suburban train approached the city the other day the brakeman announced the' name of a station in a jargon that might have been Chinese or Choctaw for all that any passenger not familiar with the place could tell. A gentleman who has consider able knowledge of railroad affairs turned and said to a Dispatch reporter: "I wonder how long the people of this country will pat up with this antiquated method of telling passengers where they are? It's a nuisance, and keeps a stranger in a state of uneasiness constantly, for fear he may be carried beyond his station. A man's hearing must be very quick, or half the time he can't tell what the aver age brakeman saw when he calls out the name of the place. Why, even un progressive Russia is ahead of us in this par ticular. There they have a system which renders mistakes almost impossible. Every compartment of the train is supplied with a frame exhibiting a placque on which the name of the station is printed. When the engine pulls up the guard sets some ma chinery in motion, and the word appears conspicuously in every carriage. At night the placque is illuminated. This is much better for the passenger than our unsystem-' atic method, and I wish something of the sort could be introduced here." Just a Fit. Harper's Bazar. ' Miss Spinster (to shoe dealer) I see that you have marked down some of your shoes. Shoe Dealer Yes; that line of ladies' shoes is marked down. We have marked 'em all down two sizes. Now, there's a tidy little gaiter, 1, I think will just fit you. Miss Spinster smiles and buys the shoes. The Colonel's Cards. AJN" OBIGHVAL STORY OF.A3iaE:RIO.AJV IilFE WBITTEN 3FOR "TJ3E DISPATCH" B"X" FnAJSJUXSi FUJXZ. Copyright, 18S9, CHAPTEB V. GULF AND SAND. THE sun and the sea were battling lazily over the boundary be tween tbe sand and the water, on theLong Branch beach. The sea would send its surf, in a series of on slaughts, a little fur ther, and yet a little fnrther still, over whelming the dry sand, and with each incursion leaving a oew and extended area of saturation; but a few of these overlap ping raids would ex haust its energy, and then, with the retreat, the sun would re claim the sand so rapidly that dryness chased the water visibly down the slope to where the waves still held unstable posses sion. The warfare of the elements was not violent. Children played in it, advancing and retiring with its fluctuations. Men and women sat or sauntered along the shift ing line of hostility, keeping on Sol's side if they cared to remain dry, bnt crossing over the Neptune if they were bathers. It was an hour, and a particularly hot one, for diversion in the surf. The almost verti cal sunlight of noon heated the sand, and, refracting from the water, dazzled all eyes that were not shaded byhatbrims or um brellas. It was into this torrid brilliance that "SHALL "WE GO OUT Jonas Pootle and his nephew, Victor Le royd, stepped from two comparatively dark compartments of the bathhouses. "I'd be glad to know, Vic," said Pootle, as he squinted his eyes to the blinding glare, "that these folks can't see me any better'n I can see them." "Nonsense, Uncle Jonas," responded De royd. "There can't be another man on the beach half so interesting in a bathing suit a., you are." 'Pootle's fat figure sagged into the un shapeliness of a single blue flannel gar ment, from the four corners of which pro truded his pulpy arms at the elbows and le-rs at the knees, while the hands and feet appertaiping thereto looked big and coare as unrelieved by coatsleeves aud trousers legs. "So's the fat man in a mueum interest ing," he continued, "but he ain't admirable is he, now?" and there was in the old fellow's voice an appeal for sympathy and support. "Who cares how he looks in a bathing suit?" said Victor. "Oh, you don't, of course yon handsome rascal." Gazing upon his nephew, proud satisfac tion displaced his discontent, lor he saw a strapping, well-proportioned young man, with the physique of a circus athlete, and a head indicative of corresponding mental strength. The knitted fabric stretched over his broad breast and powerful shoulders with no more concealment of their muscles than if, like his entire arms, they had been bare. His sturdy legs were disclosed altogether a to symmetrical outlines and from the knees down as to healthy skin. His face was trank and merry, but not that of a careless man. It agreed with Pootle's remark on the Long Branch boat, two days before, that its owner "hadn't known enough to rest when he was tired" with the difference that be had resolutely relieved himself from business fatigue and set about recreation. Nothing idle in thought or disposition was indicated in the clear visage and vet it expressed no immediate concern beyond the trivial surroundings. Victor Leroyd had determined upon a day's vacation, from care, the perplexities of which were excluded from his mind. He was not the sort of man to keep his body at Long Branch and let his brain go to Wall street as usual. As Victor strode across the sand to tbe water, Pootle kept abreast, but on the side furthest from the spectators, for he meant that, as a couple, they should present more comeliness than ugliness, no matter bow the two aspects might be apportioned. For the same reason be not only waded into the surf alongside, but simultaneously tbey plunged head foremost into the first billow encoun tered They swam out beyond the safety lines with equal ease, for the rotundity of one floated him quite as well as sinewy ex ertion did the other. Colonel Sam Dallas was leaning in a pose of dignity against a post that stuck up from the sand. He was in faultless attire, aud he held an umbrella of the lightest pos sible weight over bis head. He was whirl ing the umbrella, time after time, and as it came to a stop at tbe end of each series of revolutions, his quick eyes noted whether the pendent tassel did, or did not, hang directly opposite his face. A stranger would have taken this as an absent-minded action, but we who know the Colonel, understand that the umbrella was an im aginary wheel-of-fortune, at which he was in fancy winning or losing money, or settl ing some question by chance. His mental and manual occupation was shortly inter rupted by the approach of Mrs. Dallas, who came from the section of huts devoted to the dressingrooms of female bathers. But she was not in bathattire. Hertoilet was a slight exaggeration, in colors and shapes, ol the prevailing summer fasbiou, and she wore it impressively; but the artificiality of her hues of hair and face, although softened by a sunshade held closely over her head, and representing the very best skill, was rendered doubly palpable by contrast with May Morris, who came quickly behind her. The sun blazed upon May Morris without TS?U ' mmmmmmmmmmmmimmmmmmmSi i i i. n by Franklin File. exposing a flaw in her youthful genuineness. Her hair was the brighter brown for it, her eyes tbe clearer gray, and her skin the purer pink and white. The searching ray could find no flaw in the honesty of her ap pearance. She was so real aud true that the throng of spectators discovered her in stantly. Their scrutiny was the more open because, with herdelicate proportions garbed in a modest kind of bathing dress, she looked more like the child that she had lately been than the woman that she had hardly become. Mrs. Dallas slid an arm gently around the girl, and lowered the sun shade protectingly, as she went with her toward the water. They met Victor Le royd and Pootle coming out. The dripping Pootle was worse off in looks than before, but Victor wus better, with his glow of ex ercise and its arousal of spirit. He was in troduced to the ladies, whom he had not met before. "Shall I take you into tbe water?" he asked, seeing tbe timidity of May, to whom this was a new experience. "If you please," she replied, with a sud den confidence inspired as much by a loot straight into bis face as by an oblique glance at his stalwart form. They waded until May, immersed to the waist, gave a small scream of alarm at a bil low that threatened to cover her. She put out her hands to Victor, who took them firmly in his own. In an instant she felt herself lifted by her companion, so that her face was no more than flecked by the foam of tbe big waves that swept under her. "Are you frightened?" he asked, as he felt the clutch of both her hands in one of his own. "Not in the least," she replied; "you seem so strong." "Can you swim?" "Not the first stroke." "Well, I can easily swim for two. Shall we go out a little way? There is no danger, vou know." A LITTLE WAY?" "I know there isn't." The tight clasp of her bands told him wherein her sense of safety lay. "Then we're off." Bnt he stood still. She opened her eyes at Iiim in inquiry. "You must let go," he said, with a reluct-, ance that escaped her notice, as he gripped her belt with his disengaged hand, "and lie an limp as you can. Now, all aboard!" Lying as supinely as a sleeper In a ham mock, which sung low or high as the waves went; splashed in her upturned face bv an occasional break ot a crest, but saved from submergence by the hand of Victor, while he swam with a sense of buoyant convey ance that wa novel and exhilarating. May surrendered herself withont a tremor of fear to the brief excursion seaward. Colonel Dallas and Sheeba watched the pair with equal but different interest. "That fellow will fall in love with your daughter," he began abruptly, and she in terrupted htm with: "Hush, Sam! Don't speak it." "Well, with Miss Morris if your afraid of the other word. Toa are not going to connive at that?" "No. I know nothing of Victor Lerovd. only that he is not a blackleg, like your Winston. I have nothing to do with Vic tor's liking for May, if he gets any." "Now, see how much deeper I am con cerned. She is a neat little heiress. I'm bound that my son shall marry her." "Never." "I've said so, and it shall be so. I have told Winnie, and like a dutiful son, he con sents to sacrifice himself." "Sacrifice?" "To be sure. He might be compelled, don't you see, to abandon a promising career of villainy and become a respectable hus band to how much? an eighth of a mil ion?" "How should I know?" "Because it was you who robbed me of it. Wasn't it robbery to keep it away from me or me away irom it? When we ent mar ried I wasn't disposed to be squeamish about your pat. You vaguely tola me that you had once been the wife of a rich man; but what you didn't tell me was that be left a big fortune to your daughter or that yon had a daughter at all." "A bad woman may be a good mother. I would not touch a dollar of her money if my blood ran for it." '"You needn't. Winnie shall make love to her. You and I will help him. So shall this funny friend of yours Mrs. Gansett. Tbe girl is a bit of mush for us to spoon up and swallow." "I won't let you." "O, yes you will. Because if yon inter fere I'll have to neutralize your influence by telling the dear girl that you are her mother and all about you." "And I'd spoil your scheme by showing you and your son to her lor what you are." "Then she would know us for a precious trio of scoundrels, and herself as the daughter of an infamous woman. There, Sheeba, don't distress yourself. Think it over. Take until to-morrow to decide whether you are a pal of mine, or on enemy." They had hardly glanced at each other during their dialogue, but had gized out to where the object of their quarrel lay afloat. It they had looked less fixedly seaward they would have seen Mr. Pootle sidle away with, as much of a sneaking gait as a fat man could show, and by a circuitous way reach the coyer of the dressing huts. They might have observed, too, that his route was around tbe tire of an imaginary wheel, the hub of which was the Widow Gansett. But the center did not revolve with the periph ery. That is to say, the widow did not turn to follow with her merry eyes the movement ot Mr. Pootle. Th3t gladdened him, for he did not desire that she should see him in his bathing plight. As he waded heavily through the sand he wished vaguely that the d istension of his proportions had brought a transpaiency rendering him invisible from tbe widow's distance. He argued to himself believing the lady to be his wife that it was folly to fly from her sight; and $m -41 ,m SHSBHHi B333E539