Pittsburg dispatch. (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, January 13, 1889, SECOND PART, Page 9, Image 9

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PAGES 9 TO 16.
What the Great Congressional
Journal Will be for 1889.
Specialists to Dish Up the Disorderly
Doings in the House.
In the Dome of the Capitol at Midnight at al
late hour. J
v.w A pssesscs
sa I Bthing more in-
PT)- s kg fc teresting to one
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
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.
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
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
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.
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
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.
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 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
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.
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
The Imitation of Men a Harsh Note of
Modern Civilization.
Ceaseless Change as the Popular Eecipe for
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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
"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."
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
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.
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
"How do you account for such a singular
"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."
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
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."
New York Snn.3
Bessie You are always making mistakes,
George Yes. I thought all along that
you loved me.
JANUARY 13, 1889.
Lillian Spencer Visits the Scene of
the Wliitechapel Murders.
A Phase of Human Life Worthy of the Pen
of Sickens.
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
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
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.
"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"
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
"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 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
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
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
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
Miss Spinster smiles and buys the shoes.
The Colonel's Cards.
Copyright, 18S9,
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
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
"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
"Who cares how he looks in a bathing
suit?" said Victor.
"Oh, you don't, of course yon handsome
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
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."
"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."
"I've said so, and it shall be so. I have
told Winnie, and like a dutiful son, he con
sents to sacrifice himself."
"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
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