v. L THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH. SECOND PART. PAGES 9 TO 16. IN PHAfiAOffS LAND, Bow Ihe Shylocks of Europe Are Bleeding Ihe Egyptians. FARMING TAXES $9 PEE ACRE. A Telephone to the Sphinx and a Hotel at the Pyramids. THE HEAL ESTATE BOOMS IN EQTPT TBOM OUB TSAVXLXXO COVUISSIOXKS. CAIRO. Egypt, Jone 2. Modern civilization is mat ins rapid strides in the land of Egypt. The young giant of 41, a TT.-c wlift.. Iffh. Ifflll I flfWl ? ing palm is reaching VsXuJk7 " ont toward Japan, China, Korea and the lands of South Asia, has already a .A.ifT frrin nn this 5 5rCjAji birthplaceof history, N Siilillfi::S. and the Egypt of the past has days that are numbered. Alexandria has long since arisen from the ashes of the bombardment of seven years ago, and it is now the size of Cleveland or 'Washington. Its buildings are European rather than Arabic and its streets have French names. Cairo, the city ol the Arabian Nights, is fast becoming a city of Parisian nights, and the Mohammedan call to prayer is mingled -with the bacchanalian songs of the cafe chzntants. Modern science is pulling the mummies from the pyramids. A telephone line runs almost to the very ear of the Sphinx, and the old lady is being pulled from the sand by modern iron cars made in Europe. There is a hotel at the base of the Pyramid of Cheops, in which English men and women drink brandy and soda, and the spirit of the nineteenth century with &ome of its virtues and all of its vices is breathing new life into the land of the Pharaohs. Egypt had more than 2,000 American visitors this winter.and the amount left here bv Cook's tourists alone is now, I am told, about $2,500,000 a year. A FASHIONABLE RESOKT. Cairo is becoming a winter residence city, and it has hundreds ot mansions which would do credit to New York or Paris. Real estate has rapidly risen in value, and the land upan which the baby Moses lay in the bullrushes is now worth a bis price per square loot. When I visited Cairo about eight years ago the donkey was the chief hackney cab of the lortigner, and men, women 'and children went sight-seeing on long-eared beasts with donkey boys in blue gowns following behind and punching up the animals by poking sharp sticks into patches of bare flesh as big as a dollar, each of which had been deuuded of skin lor the purpose. The hotels had Egyptian servants in tur bans and gowns, tnd you called your boy to your room by clapping your bauds. Now the Ishmaelitish hack driver has taken the town, and, though he wears a fez cap, his dress is European and his cheek is as hard as that of an American cabby. The donkey boys, though they are as bright as ever, have lost their monopoly, and their custom ers are confined to foreign men and to the natives. Inside the walls of Shepheard's Hotel, where I am stopping, you are as fr from old Egvpt as you would be in the Grand Hotel at Paris. The servants are Preach, speaking Swiss, in black swallow tail coats. The chauibe' . have electric bells, and the $4 a day which you pay for your board does not include either candles or soap. The house is packed full, and there are counts by the score and lords by the dozen. At dinner you see half che men in steel pcn coats and the women in trails, low necks and short sleeves. There is a babel of En glish, French and German, and the only evidence that you are in the land of the Pharoahs is the tall palm trees which look wonderingly in at the wiudons. A BEAL ESTATE BOOH. The dahibeye or sail boat, which was formerly the only means of going up the "Kile, has been superseded by steamers as comfortable as those which cross the Atlan tic, and the journey Irom Cairo to the inte rior of Nubia is one of the easiest and pleasantest in the world. There are now more than a thousand miles ol railroad track in Egypt, and I traveled to Cairo irom Suez in an express train, which made as good speed as that of our trunk lines. The steam engine screeched as we passed through the land of Goshen and at one of the stations while telegraphing to Cairo, I asked the price ol land ia this country which Joseph gave to his father, and was told that it was worth at least $150 au acre. Our steamboat in coming up the Bed Sea crossed the path over which -Moses led the Israelites, and In which Pharoah was drowned, and I drove out thisa.ternoon in an American buggy to the site of Heliopo lis, where Plato studied, and near which stands the old tree in whose hollow trunk the Virgin Mary hid herseli with the child Jesus during the flight to Egypt. In passing through the streets of Cairo I taw the troops of the Khedive, clad in a uniform like that of the soldiers of Europe, and among them were English officers and the red coats of the English army ot occu pation. The great governments of Europe bow control Egypt. England dictates the actions of the Khedive, and foreign in fluence permeates every part of the Govern ment The European bondholders practic ally own the country, and the lands ol the Nile, if sold out at auction, would hardly bring the value ot the mortgages which the Bothbchilds and others hold upon them. The people are ground down by taxation bow as they have been under the most ex travagant of their rulers in the past, and the Egyptian improvements above mentioned, vhich are mainly lor the benefit of the for eigners have come out of the peasants. "Whatever Egypt may be in the future it is terribly oppre'sted toAlay, and the story of Ireland is nothing in comparison with the present condition of Egypt. AJf OPPBESSED PEOPLE. The Egyptians should be the richest in stead ot the poorest people of the world. "What a wouderral country they havel It is a valley of guano in the midst of a desert. The land is as black as your hat, and it now teems with crops as green as Kansas in June. It produces from two to three crops every year, and its boil gives out through the ages bounteous crops with no other fer tilizer than this water of the Nile. Egypt is the gift of the Nile, and a wonderful gilt itis. The country under the Khedive to day is the narrowest kingdom of the world. Extending between 800 and 900 miles above Cairo, its cultivable soil is nowhere more than nine miles wide, and below here it spreads out in a great, green fan, the ribs of which are each a little more than 100 miles long, and the top of which does not measure much more than the ribs. This fan is the famed Delta of the Nile, and with this long narrow valley above it it makes the Egypt of to-day. On the sides of this valley are great tracts of desert of sand of a glaring yellow silver, more sterile than the plains of Colorado or the alkali plains of the Bockies. The Egyptian desert is absolutely bare. The rich fields of Eypt come to its edge on either side, and you can step from the greenest of grass' on to the dryestof sand, and standing on .the green with yonr face toward the drsert, for as tar as the eye can reach see nothing but bleak, bare sand. The whole of the soil of Egypt has been ..iiii (ifHn3i.w IK V.'.l w brought down from the mountains of Abys sinia by the Nile. It is nowhere more than SO leet deeu, and its average depth is about 35 leet. Under this soil is found the sand. The Nile waters it as well as fertilizes it, for there is no raiu to speak ot in Egypt. The country is flat. Here at Cairo you can see for miles in every direction, and standing on the Great Pyramid, tho Valley of the Nile is spread out below you in a great patchwork of different shades of green. There are no lences and few trees; here and there a grove ot tall palms raise their fan like heads high up in the clear blue atmos phere, and near them you see a village of mud huts made of the same sun-dried sticks that Pharoah ground out of the Children of Israel. This great plain is cut up bv canals, roads run here and there through it, and along thee move caravans or camels, of Egyptians in gowns upon donkeys, and of droves of donkeys laden with grass or grain. There are cattle and sheep by the thousands upon the fields, and their tat sides glisten under the tropical sun as they munch the sweetest and juiciest of clover. The air just now is as pure as that of Denver. All nature seems to smile and the only poor thing upon the scene is man. TILLEES OP THE SOIL. Out of the 6,600,000 people of Egypt, fully 6.000,000 are peasants. They are known as "iellahs." They are the tillers or the soil, and thev are the people who do the work and make the money which pays the im mense yearly debtot Egypt. These "fellahs" are the ancient Egyptians. They have been oppressed throughout the ages "until they have no spirit left in them, and they are happy it they can get enough to keep them selves alive. You see their mud villages everywhere, and they slave from morning until night in the fields. Their houses are rarely more than tt-n leet high and often not more than eight feet square. In an Egypt ian village the houses are built close "to gether. There are no pavements, gas lamps nor modern improvements of any kind. The Inrniture oi'each house consists of a few mats, a sheep skin, a copper kettle and some earthenware pots. The bed of the family -'-"? ' . .32 -& An Egyptian Fellah. is a ledge ot mud built in the side of the room. There are no windows, and the cooking is usually done out of doors in a little earthen, pot-like stove. The food of the family is a mixture of sorghum r.eed, millet and beans ground up into a flour and baked into a sort ot big, round, flat cake. A large part ot the lood of the fellahin con sists ot greens, and I watched one eating a turnip yesterday. He began at the tip of the root, and ate the raw indigestible vege table to the very end of the green, leaving not a vestige of it. I have seen them eating clover, and I am told that they seldom have any meat. Out of the milk of the buffalo anil cow they make a sort of curd-like cheese, which is extensively used. They use no knives, forks nor spoons, and at supper they have, in addition to their vegetables, a sauce of onions and butter, into which they dip pieces of bread and eat it. It is no wonder they remain poor. They have been taxed for ages(to such an extent that they could barely live. Ismail Pasha, the last Khedive, would, I am told, often collect taxes twice a year, coming down upon the farmers lor a second sum after he had demanded the regular amount. If they were not nble to supply it the tax gatherers sold their stock at auction, and he had the right to make such as he pleased work for him for nothing. At present there are about 5,000,000 acres of laud under cultiva tion in Egypt, and there is an agricultural population of more than 4,000,000. This gives less than one and one-fLth acres per person, and the taxes amount to Irom 54 to J9 an acre. TAXED TO DEATH. The best lands of Egypt pay ?9 au acre, and this is only one form of Egyptian taxa tion. Just outside of Cairo there in a Gov ernment office, through which every piece of produce, brought into the city for sale must pass, and every article is taxed. The j . An AgrlmllurlsCs Hut. farmer who brings a donkey load ot grass to the city for sale must pay a percentage on its value beiore he can go in with it. It is the same with a chicken or a pigeon, a basket of vegetables, or anything that the farmer raises. Then there is a tax upon date trees amounting to $200,000 a year, up on salt ol more than $1,000,000, upon tobacco and slaughter house, and in fact upon everything under the Egyptian sun. , The donkey boy here pays a tax, the doctor pays a tax. the storekeeper is taxed, and there is in addition to this a general tariff of about 8 per cent on all imports. There are taxes on sheep and goats, which are paid whether the animals are sold or not There are taxes on wells, taxes on fisheries, and taxes paid for lands which Egypt once owned, but which she gave up with the loss of Soudan. It is no wonder that the Egyptian people are poor. It is a wonder that they can exist at all. The bulk of this money goes out of the 'country and the natives of Egypt are grow ing poorer instead ol richer. ""Such taxa tion," said our Consul General to me to-dar, "would create a revolution in the United States, and there is hardly a country in the world which would stand it. Not a dollar ot all the mousy which is thus collected it expended in public or private improve ments among the hard-worked, overtaxed people, Irom whom it has been wrung." Egypt pays every year more than $3,000. 000 to Turkey. "Why she continues to do this is not well understood the world ever. JCf England and Europe would shake tbeir heads she would throw off the Turkish yoke, but the Sultan of Turkey owes some large sums to the European bankers. The Eu ropean bankers want this $3,000,000, and it comes to them through the Sultan. This Is one way in which the Rothschilds grind the fellahin. The total revenue collected last ;year was nearly $50,000,000, and f 'this TST -i-r - " 1& more than $20,000,000 went to pay the inter est upon debts, which were entered into by the Egyptian Government in the past . SOME ODIOUS COMPARISONS. New York contains about four times as much farming land as Egypt Suppose the farmers of New Yorfc, irrespective of the capitalists and town people, bad to pay a tax of $225,000,000 a year; they would be' as heavily oppressed, in proportion to their lands, as are the Egyptians. If they had to pay simply the tax of Irom $4 to $9 an acre, they would have to mortgage tbeir crops; and if, in addition to this, they had to pay import and export taxes, and taxes on their sales, the result would be an almost imme diate bankruptcy. Egypt is not much big ger, in reality, than Massachusetts. It is only about the size of .Maryland. Suppose that Maryland had a population or 6,000,000 to live offher farming lands, and should tax them at the above rate, and you get the con dition of Egypt to-day. Verily, the pound of flesh of the shylock or Venice was not more rigidly enacted than is now being cut off the pounds of flesh of' the Egyptian peasants by the English and other European creditors. These creditors watch the condition of their debtors, and they see that all of the proceeds go into their pockets. Each of the Cabinet officers of the Khedive has a sub minister under him, who is a foreigner, and the proposition for nearly everything pass through the hands of this 'Sub-minister be lore they get to the Egyi tian who is the Khedive's counsellor. The most of these sub-ministers are English, and the Egyp tians are now practically controlled by En gland. England dictates the ministers the Khedive shall take into his Cabinet It dictates the rato ot taxation, and in fact is the controllerof all state matters in Egypt The Khedive, I am told, would do much more for the people if he could, but he has to submit The English officers receive large salaries; and though they are numer ically, and in the matter of owning prop erty in Egypt, (ewer than either the French, the Italians or the Greeks, they are in in fluence and dictatorial power the leading European nation of Egypt. Ebank J. Caepentee. UNCLE SAM'S DISHONESTY. now the Government Has Profited by Fond From Unpaid atoney Order. Washington Letter to Indianapolis Journal J . For 17 years after the establishment of the money-order system in this country the funds secured through unpaid money orders were stored up and hoarded, just as though the United States Government had made a good speculation. No attempts whatever were inaugurated to ascertain the real own ers of this money which had been trusted to Uncle Sam's care, but the sum went on ac cumulating until it had reached the enor mous figure of about $1,700,000. Then Con gress took hold. The legislative branch of the Government decided that the money thus held was illegally held, and that no pains should be spared to ascertain to whom it belonged, and a clause was attached to one of the bills appropriating money for the support of the Postoffice Department author izing the employmentofa number of clerks, whose duty it should be to ascertain the rightful owners of this money-order fund, and every effort made to restore it Congress also provided that hereafter, whenever an "advice" in relation to an order, which should remain unpaid in the hands of a postmaster a certain number of days without the money having been claimed, was re ceived, it should be the duty of the post master to notify the payee. If this failed to secure the payment hi the money to the rigutiul party, tne sender was to be notihed and steps were devised bv which he might secure the money which had not been paid to the person to whom he desired it should the latter act there has been a great falling off in the accumulation of money to the credit of the money-order fund in New York, and under the instructions of Con gress some clerks in the Money-Order De partment have been engaged for some years in making out a list of all unpaid orders, together with the names of the purchaser of ot the order and the party to whom it was sent These lists make an enormous bill of, manuscript, and although they are not yet' completed, they have been instrumental in restoring a great deal of the money to the rightful owners. Just how much has been paid back cannot be ascertained at this time without a great deal of work, but that there still remains more than $1,000,000 piled away in the Sub-Treasury in New York to the credit ot the money-order fund is be yond dispute. Ordinary business honesty would have de manded that this fund should never have been allowed to accumulate, but Uncle Sam, in his business dealings, is the most dishon est of mortals. He never pays a" debt that be can possibly escape, but insists upon prompt payment for all his debts. THE EIGHT AND LEFT. Some of the Innnmcrnble Fbrasea nndSa- peratltlona Regarding Oar Hands. Ohio Valley Manufacturer. The superiority of the right hand caused it early to be regarded as tne fortu nate, lucky and trusty band; the inferiority of the left hand caused it equally to be con sidered as ill-omened, unlucky, and, in one expressive word, sinister. Hence come in numerable phrases and superstitions. It is the right hand of fellowship that we always grasp; it is with our own right hand that we vindicate our honor against sinister sus picions. On the other hand, it is "over the left" that we believe a doubtlul or incredi ble statement; a left-handed compliment or a left-handed marriage carry their own con demnation with them. On the right hand of the host is the seat of honor; it is to the left that the goats of ecclesiastical contro versy are invariably relegated. The very notions of the right hand and ethical right have got mixed up inextricably in every language: droit and la droite display it in French as much as right and the right in English. But to be gauche is merely to be awkward and clumsy; while to be right is something far higher and more important So unlucky, indeed, does the left hand at last become, that merely to mention it is an evil omen; and so the Greeks relnse to use the true old Greek word for left at all, and preferred euphemistically to describe it as euonyroous, the well-named or happy omened. Oar own left seems equally to mean the hand that is left after the right has been mentioned, or, in short, the other one. Many things which are lucky if seen on the right are fateful omens if seen to leftward. On the other hand, i you spill the salt, you propitiate destiny by tosing a pinch of it over your left 'shoulder. A murderer's left hand is said by good au thorities to be an excellent thing to do magic with; but here I cannot speak from personal experience. Nor do I know why the wedding ring is worn on the left hand; though it is significant at any rate, that the mark of slavery should be put by the man with his own right upon the inferior member of the weaker vessel. Strong minded ladies may get up an agitation if they like to alter this gross injustice of the centuries. It Couldn't Have Been Bed-Hot. Time. Mamma Are" yon warm, Bobby? Bobby (In bed) Yes, mamma, as warm as toast "Why, no you're not Yon are as cold as' you can be." "Well, I'm a warm as the toast we had for inpper." The Fiabermen'q Vblc. Pnetj The fisherman sang In the mountain pass., As be cavlr went to bis fishing ulace . A And his thought and voice were both ot test. .' PITTSBURa, SUNDAY, JULY 7, 1889. GAY MRRAGANSEIT. Life at One of tbe Jolliest and Host Democratic Seaside Resorts. BELLES WHO DRINK MIST JULEP. Beautiful Girls Who Bewitch the Unsus picious Stranger. THE TROUBLES OF FAUNTLEEOX BOYS ICOBBXSPONDKKCZ OF TOE DISrATCH.1 Nareaqansett Pier, E. L, July 4. NTIIi you visit Narragansett Pier you have not seen one of the gayest and most democratio . spots that tbe sea beats against, and i f a n y well-bred stranger desires to go away this sum. mer, and be adopted by a lively and handsome crowd of revelers, let him come here with a good wardrobe and be accommodated. Everyone is out in,the sunlight, not afraid to be seen or heard. Before you are aware of it you are friends with the best half of the population, and are drinking mint juleps on the Casino lawn with a girl whom you were actually rushed into an acquaint ance with. It is bewildering, but most peo ple say it is nice. At any rate, this hail-fellow-well-met manner of being jolly at Narragansett is what has given the place its nntailing prosperity. There is never one "off year" at this resort. Newport can be empty, but across the bay you will find the faithfnl people at the Pier, sticking to the old-fashioned hotels, and bathing as no other people bathe on the whole coast A SIMPLE COSTUME. The girls are various, of course, but here is a bewitching example. We all know this get up. It is silk mull, I am told, and there are yards and yards and yards in it It is made on a fine silk foundation. The lace about the throat is a mere film of web like quality. On the same authority I am - && Vition of Beauty and Fathion. able to say that the stockings are those very 'latest mull silk ones, and the shoes are white pebbled leather. The hat, lace straw, whose painted silk rivals nature. The maker charged about $125 for the whole affair and one petticoat of fluffy lace cost 12 more. "We only wear the rig twice," says my fair informant, "because twice ruins it; vet, when we are married John swearsover a bill for a ready-made cloth dress, and says, 'Deuce take it, why don't you wear thesimple little white gowns you used to be content with when I was courting you?' " The hour alter the bath is a delicious, gay and melodious one at Narragansett Before returning to their hotels to dine all hands crowd into the Casino, thronging the lawn and piazzas, and forming an impressive and vari-colored picture "as they dally with pretty ices and picturesque drinks. The drink part of the arrangement is somewhat surprising when it is remembered that Bhode Island is a prohibition State. A special favorite after the dip in the sea is THE FBAGKANT MINT JULEP. I think the young women preter this be cause the bunch of green which crowns it sets off so prettily the clean pinkness of their faces, just as ferns display the delicate rose with an added beauty. At any rate, I have counted fully two dozen juleps in front of as many girls during one sitting on the Casino lawn. A string orchestra discourses the while most entrancing melody, and what with' the mutual loveliness of the gray granite building, the exquisite toilets of the women, their beauty and vivacity, and the bine sky blending into the bluer sea, the J&T' Quite the Correct Thing. noon hour at the Casino is as fair as any thing in the calendar of summer days. It is not unusual to see a girl seated alo'ce at a little table with a glass of mildly alcoholic beverage before her. It does her no dis credit according to usage here. The same maiden wouldn't think ot doing such a thing at Saratoga or Long Branch. Narra gansett has special privileges of laxity. Summer and the shore seem the time and place for flirting, and I do not remember ever visiting a resort of this character where the pastime was not indulged in to some extent But at Narragansett it strikes me that it is incessant That fatal bathing I beasn is, i. oeueve, tne-primai cause tor tne bewitching conduct of these pretty girls, and the romantic hour' with the mint jnlstis 'does much to sustain he excitement The giris jook at you iquareiy wnen you arrive, and you are conscious) that they are discuss ing your complexion, your clothe and-your Walk. When-yon dance nn from rnnr nlat fin the hotel c dining room a pair of mis- IRTflff 1 WW VtJR IW ivHl 11 f Jem i3 chievous eves "meet your own, and they have an invitation in their attractive depths. If you are an utter stranger you wander idly about the piazzas, the beach, the cliffs, and always the feminine eye regards your move ments. You need not bother yourself about seeking a meeting with these pretty, creatures. Time and chance will look out for that SECtraCTG THE VICTIM. One of them simply has to say: "I would like to know that fellow," and she knows him within a half hour. The last resort is to ask the hotel clerk to lead the victim up to his fate, as was the case with a by no means good looking young fellow who came down from New York one Sat urday night to stop over Sunday. This young man had thought of no greater luxuries during his little outing than a change of fare, a swim and a ride. But alter eating his supper on Saturday night he discovered that he was not to be let off so easily. He had lounged up to the parlor door in his hotel to watch the danciDg, for a quite pretentious ball was going on, and while leaning gracefully against the jamb a group of women espied him. The ring leader a very sweet' and stately blonde, shrouded, in diaphanous draperies dis cussed the situation for a moment with her friends, and then began searching for some one to perform the act of bringing the lamb to the shrine. She met the ooliging young clerk of the house coming away from the ice-water tank in the office, and to him she indicated the innocent'New York youth at the door of the parlor. The clerk was not in the least surprised at the request the lair Victor and Vanquished. damsel made, so he advanced directly upon his prey. The young visitor listened to the proposition made, looked at the source from which it had originated, and yielded himself up with a gracious smile. He danced the hours away with the truly lovely blonde, and ate ices with her in the refreshment room. The next day he floated her over tbe rollers in the bath; on Sunday night he strolled about the piazzas with her iere are no electric lights at Naragansett and when he started for New York next morn ing he promised he would be down every Saturday night for the remainder or the summer. There is no easier place on the coast to meet beautiful girls, and to have a better time after you do meet them, than at this same jolly Naragansett pier. KOTHINO SLOW ABOUT IT. Some writers assure us that life at Narra gansett is particularly slow. These have canght wrong glimpses of the place. They have evidently gone in when the crowd went out, and gone out when the crowd went in. The people here have a routine, and their pleasures arc taken spasmodically. About the only way to realize the immensity of happiness, beauty andblithesomenesswhich finds haven at the pier is to stroll down the ocean drive to the little crescent beach at noontime, and take a chair under the roof which runs the length of the bath houses. You can't get into a hotel with a crowd, be cause, all the hotels are nothing more than good-sized boarding houses. You must therefore watch for the contents of the long line of these houses to converge, and the best opportunity yon get for this is at the bathing hour. Bathing is the soul of Narragansett It is carried to the point of frenzy. It inaugu rates, it sustains, it brings to a crisis in numerable affairs of the indiscreet and in toxicated heart I doubt if at any other place in the world the seashore man and the summer girl are found in such profusion of callow excitability as right here on this short strip of sand. UNFOBTUNATE TOUN GSTEB3. But there are sedate people at Narragan- A Disgusted Little Lord Fauntleroy. sett, too, and all is not frivolous and volatile there. There is a big leavening of culture, and testheticism is visible. A feature of the sights is Little Lord Pauntleroy in multi ple. Chaps big enough to be boyish are kept girlish by this maternal craze, and the unwilling imitators of Mrs. Burnett's goody-goody youngster are often unhappy in tbeir long hair and feminine touches of toilet. They are juvenile Grosvenors de scended from Gilbert's "Patience," realty, for that effeminate character is realized in miniature by the Fauntleroy of the story. It is funny to see how some of the dupli cates at the seashore incongruously drop the manners of angelic desnetude and become hearty roysterers, while still wearing the costume of sickeniugly-sweet goodness. The Fauntleroy nonsense yielded this ve randa dialogue: 1 Mamma Now, remember. Bertram, 7on mustn't run too hard, or you'll perspire and spoil your Fauntleroy shirt Bertie Yes, dearest Mamma And you mustn't wipe your nose on your Fauntleroy sash, or mamma will have to whip yon. Bertie No, dearest Mamma Above all things, remember under no circumstances, take your hat off, because your Fauntleroy curls are sewed in the brim. Bertie Yes, dearest Oh cuss that Fauntleroy bov, dearest! Kamera. He Made a mistake. Omaha World.1 He My dear Miss Angel, will yon not partake of.just a little pale, pink cream and one bonbon, which I fear will not be so exquisite as yon are accustomed to in Boston? She What a break? I'm not from Bos ton. I live in Kansas City. "Well, I am a fishl Here, waiter, bring ns a double order of pork chops and some turnips with the peeling on. Slu ) An Old Remark In Order. New York Tribune, Tbe old remark is again in order that a great many college 'students are broadened because the professors sit on, them for four year?' :&5y3fcri.v - . IN LOVE'S HANDS -A. Legend of Pensacola. BY MAUBIOE CHAPTEB I. FBENCH vessel bonnd for Mobile was captured and sunk by a Spanish cruiser soon after the recaptureof Pensacola by the Spanish fleet in 1719. One prisoner, a slender and beauti ful girl, was the only prize secured by the victors. Tbe fight had been a close and deadly one, with a result not uncommon in those days, when a naval en gagement, at best, was a mere matter of broadside and board ing. Carrying fewer guns .and lighter ones than her, adversary, and withal being much slower, the French vessel fell an easy prey to its vigorous ad versary. It went down with its colors fly ing, however, while the Spaniards were in the act of boarding it; but before this the deck had been so raked by cannon and mus kets at short range that the brave little crew were nearly all killed, so that it was but a smoke-grimed and bloody handful of them that cheered pluckily as they sank in 20 fathoms of green Gulf water. Pauline de la Cbasie was saved from the fate of the vessel's crew by one of those strange chances which now and again inject into real life the most impossible appearing elements of romance. She had rushed upon the deck, wild and disheveled, just as the ship lurched forward to go down. A young Spanish officer, bearing the honored name of Cortes, saw her, and this lovely appari tion, hovering in (he smoke or the last terri ble broadside, impressed him deeply. His imagination, like that of most youthful adventurers who were sailing the seas at that time, was a most inflammable one.ready tor flare up vividly at every touch of the new, the strange or the beautiful. What could appeal more forcibly or more directly to the heart of such a youth at such a mo ment than the vision of a young girl, lithe, slender, lovely, with white arms outspread, yellow-brown hair afloat on the breeze, her pale face, upturned and her garments flutter ing wildly, running across the bloody, corpse-strewn deck of the sinking vessel against which he had jnst been directing his guns? Indeed, so much was he affected he started forward and stretched forth his hands, as if to reach and save her. Not one of tbe stalwart French sailors was ever seen again after the water closed over the ill-fated vessel; but the beautiful and frightened young girl, Pauline de la Chasie, rose to the surface, and with her long wet hair clinging close to her shapely shoulders and girlish bust, was seen tossing about on tne snort cnopping waves, in some way her clothes had caught hold'on a fragment of spar so that she had been kept afloat Fortunately her instinct of self preservation had overborne her fear at the critical moment With desperate eagerness and energy she clung to the bit of buoyant wood, and was able to keep her head above the foam and spray of tbe noisy and turn bling'waves, albeit she was scarcely aware of what she was doing. Cortes, whose habit was to spend no time in deliberating at the point of emergency, called for men and quickly had a boat low ered. In a few minutes the girl in a semi conscious condition was on board tbe Span ish vessel where she received every kind at tention that chivalrous men could offer un der the circumstances. The shock to her nerves had been very great, not only on ac count of the terrible nature of the engage ment and the results following it, but more on account of the peculiar conditions under which she had left France to go to the ob scure little garrison at Mobile on the then wild southern coast of America. In those days love was something to live for and to die for. Tc be young and in love meant that along with the yonth and love went a certain romantic devotion which would turn aside for no obstacle, hesitate at no sacrifice. Man and woman, youth and maiden lelt that to go to the end of the world for love's sake was the noblest of all tasks, tbe highest and holiest of all duties. The influence of chivalry was still alive, and, although tbe formalities of olden knighthood had mostly passed away forever, there lingered in the world, especially among the young and brave, a spirit of honor which demanded extraordinary ex actitude in the matter of keeping promises, and especially those promises bound by the golden thread of love. Pauline de la Chasie at the time of the disaster to the vessel that bore her, was on her way to join her soldier lover, one Louis Doucet, whose fortune had called him to Mobile. It would be very interesting, if space and the scope of this story would per mit it, to go back and give the details of this romantic love affair, which budded in the fairest part of Southern France at one of the old towns whose ruins date beyond the time when tbe Popo had his home iu Provence, and whose roses are still the very ones of which the troubadours raved. We must be content, however, to trace the American part of what mqst always remain 1 one ot tbe most noteworthy strains or ro mance connected with the settlement of our Southern coast The grave historian, who scorns whatever is not dry as,dust, runs over what he looks upon as mere incident and he turns aside from anything romantic or touched with sentiment, as though he feared some lurk ing infection which might enliven his blood and send a thrill of poetry into his book must clouded mind. Still it is true that, to the large majority of readers, these personal incidents, these bits ot romance that form the neglected fringe of history, are the very parts of the past which are most interesting. Pauline de la Chasie's experience certainly may claim the attention of this liberal ma jority. It was a great undertaking in these days for ayoung girl not yet 19, to set sail with a crew ot soldier seamen to go from France to America, yet this girl did it, as is well attested by records not to be disputed. After a long voyage, during which the vessel encountered many storms and was blown far southward of its proper course, it must have been almost unbearable, even to tbe rough crew, to see a powerful Spanish vessel bearing down npon them just at a time when the end of all their desires seemed almost in sight; but to poor Pauline de la Chasie it was like plunging into the black pit of utter despair. The shock struck her with the force of a thousand deaths, and yet she lived. In hearts like hers, so long as life remains there is loyalty of the. most pre cious sort, and there is faith which, though it may not give strength, affords a courage that meets everything with silent endur ance. Pauline had already gone through experiences sufficient to have broken the will of almost any woman; but she loved Louis Doucet, and her love was strong enough to bear her up even in the dreadlul moment when the sea was ready to swallow her, and it sustained her in the still more trying scenes which followed her rescue. The Spanish vessel, after its victory over its French loe, immediately-put into Pen sacola, which was then the stronghold of ihe Spaniards in Florida. Pauline, more dead than alive, was taken by Cortes to Ihehoute fMfp If THOMPSON. of his friend, Don Alphduso de Salcedo, the wealthiest citizen of the place, where she was cared for mqst tenderly by Don Al phonso's wife, who, childless herself, lelt at once a mother's sympathy for this fragile and beautiful gfrl brought to her out of the sea. For nearly a month Pauline was very ill, and as there was no competent physician in the place, it was good nursing, aided by a nature possessed of great vital energy, that brought her back at last to a safe convales cence and to full sense of the terrible trial through which she had passed. Then came the realization ol what, to her, was worse than death the fact that she had tailed to reach Mobile, failed to find her waiting lover, and that instead of consummating her one all-absorbing desire, she had lost every thing by falling into the hands ofber country's enemies against whom Louis Doucet was proudly bearing arms. She loundhersel. in. a strangely acpointed room, where the rudest workmanship in walls and floors was contrasted with pieces of furniture whose carving and cushions at tested the most cunning and costly art of the Old World. The couch upon which she lay was a marvel of luxury, while the win dow through which she looked out upon the beautilul, dreamy bay was no more than a square hole through the wall of rough pine logs. Evidently Don Alnhonso was makinsr ,his lile at Pensacola one of lar less hardship tnan mignt nave oeen JooKea tor in that wild little village, so long the rendezvous for corsair and buccaneer in the days when all the world was against Spain. From her delicately perfumed pillow Pauline could see some piratical looking vessels at anchor in the harbor, and she could hear the confused noises of a busy garrion intent upon completing some fortifications not far away. The breath of the early tropic summer strayed in bearing the rich fragrance of roses and the fine aroma of the blooming aecacia trees. Awaking as from a long dream Pauline's first thought after the sudden contusion of recollections had THEY FENCED FUBIOUSLT AKD ADROITLY. subsided was that of resuming her journey, toward her lover; but soon, enough the im possibility of such a thin; rushed upon her mind with such force that, with a piteous moan, she sank again into a state of uncon sciousness. At that sound a dark little woman, quite past the prime of life, and wrinkled enoug'h to haye been 80, came from behind a curtain which covered a narrow doorway and hurried with soft swilt footfalls to the bedside. With a singularly kind and gentle expression she peered in the girl's lace, touched her pale forehead with her thin, sallow fingers, softly adjusted the rich covering of the couch, smoothed the pillows and then, with a catlike noiseless motion, slip'ped into a chair close by and as sumed an attitude of expectant, solicitous Interview Between Cortez and Pauline. watchfulness. Although she was the wife ot Don Alfonso her face was French in all its features, and when at last Panline re- turned again to consciousness, it was the accent of Provence that came to her ear. "Dear little Mademoiselle," it murmured tenderly, "do you feel better now?" Asoft hand brushed with a cooling touch across her cheek and temple. Pauline lifted her heavy lids to look into those deep-set, insistent eyes that hung over her so inquiringly. The voice was soothing in a way and the'hand was so motherly and comforting to one who, an orphan from childhood, was now so far away from every familiar sight or sound. "Just a drop of this, my child," the lady added, letting fall a small liquid potion be tween tne gin s parted lips. "You are much better now, dear; yoa are going to get well." She took Pauline's bloodless hand and chafed it lightly with the caressing touch of a woman famishing for love aud for some thing to love. "Shut your sweet eyes now, Mademoiselle, and sleep a little more, just a little more; it will do you good." Whether it was the liquid or whether the magnetic contact of those motherly hands and the lullaby-like intonations of that sweet, soft voice wrought the effect, Paul ine Jell at once into a gentle and refreshing sleep. Once or twice she stirred lightly and murmured: "Yes, Louis, I am coming." The watching woman smiled strangely meantime and gazed with a dreamy remi niscent expression out over the bay to where ffie sun was gilding some vagrant gulf caps till they looked like vague floating domes of gold. It Is scarcely possible for one to realize now what a place Pensacola must then have been for a refined and gentle woman to be caged in; the years ha7e hurled us forward so far from those wild, lawless, free-booting days that we can think ol them only as ap pearing hastily through a mist of romance. The reality was romantic, indeed, but it was harsh; cruel, painfully devoid of any high strain'of endeavor, and withal bru tally coarse, no matter how picturesque and interesting may have been its setting. Dona Hortense, (thus we mnst name the .Univ.. nr- cyZr.,zz " . J wne 01 uoa Aipnonsoj naa ieit to tne last mriii me loueiiHBM, we starvation c,seni L the utter exile of the life which for years she bad tx-en compelled to accept ana coming of Pauline was to her at once a joy and a sorrow, for while it filled in a degree tbe void in her heart it awakened to re newed life and activity the sympathies which for years baJ Iain dormant, and made her 1 eel how terrible wonld be the poor girl's sufferings in the life which must now come to her. "Poor little dear," she murmured, gazing half sadly at the delicately-chiseled face, and laving her hand on the yellow-brown hair. "Poor little dear, I wonder what play -of late brought you to this terrible placei". After a long, thoughtful pause, she added: "And I wonder what at fast will become of 3 you. She shook her head dolefully, and', covered her eyes with the finger and thuab r of one hand as if to shut out some disagree-' able vision. , - A heavy footfalt in the adjoining rooaV gave warning of the approach of DoaV ?? Alphonso. ''' "And how fares the mermaid by this : time?" f The lightvoice and the stalwart gray bearded man came through the doonray" together. The woman put her finger on her lip and' shook her head. Don Alphonso stalked in with that easy and careless swagger, which in all ages has , marked a man without a conscience. "Beautiful as a saint," he exclaimed, stopping himself iu the middle of the room: and looking with admiring eyes upon thei girl's white face. "Captain Cortes is a lucky dog to capture such a prize." tcr shame, Alpnono, tor snamer whispered the Dona. "You will wake the poor child, and then your words are brutal. Don't speak again, she must sleep." Don Alphonso was not a soldier. He was an adventurer who came to Spanish Florida ostensibly as the agent of a great trading company, so called, but in sober fact his business was to forward any scheme, lawful or unlawful, for gaining wealth. He was a very hindsome man and despite his. ickednes3 had many traits attractive to women. His wife loved him passionately; but she had long since discovered that her power over him was not what it had been in the days of her" prime, when she was both beautiful aud happy. He stood quite still for some time with his gaze fixed steadily on Pauline's face. His features relaxed and their expression softened. It had been years since be had , looked upon the face of a'youug and beauti- ful girl. Tbe vision recalled his youth and me scuu 01 careiess, nappy idling In tha. nnuajuousnip ot tne pure, tne beautiful uu luo gOOU. "The Holy Mother bless the poor girl,' he softly said. "She has found but a 000 exchange for the bottom of th . His wife looked up at him and a warm flns" stole over her prematurely withered cheeks. She arose and going to him laid ner hands on his strong- shoulders and said: My dear husband, we must save her: we must make her our child. The man appeared to shake himself, as if drawing together his wits after a fit of ab straction. He smiled grimly, but not with out a lingering tenderness, as he responded: You forget," he said, trying to assume the swagger. "You forget that Captain Cortes will have something to say in the matter." With this he turned and abruptly left the room. - CHAPTER IX Panline, when once she betran ia conva lesce, soon gathered strength to sit nnin fc.,.. bed, and through the ample window-space," ica tne wnuc-cap waves run across the beautiful little bay. A luxuriant rose-vine trained over the outer wall of the house let fall neavy sprays of bloom and foliage be low the rude window-cap, and the perfume came in on every pulse of the summer weather. Very olten she saw Cortes, active, -dark and handsome, passing to and fro in a light sail boat from one side of the little bay to the other, or going back and forth be tween the shore and his vessel, which lay at anchor within full view of Pauline's win dow. Every day the gallant young captain sent a messenger to inquire about her health and to ask if there was anything he could do for her, and one morning there came to Pauline's bedside a great pyramid of flow ers, many of them new and strange in form and color. The room was fairly flushed with their hues and filled with their sweet ness. W Cortez Rescues Pauline- The Dona, whose long and trying exBeri? ences as the wife of a Spanish adventurers! had not quenched her French vivacity andvj attentions of Cortes take this delicate aad lover-like form. The rather ominous hints ? of her husband had been suggestive of nn speaauie pocsiiiiiiues wuicu, in view 01 ibq license prevalent in the colony, might be fer from remote. The life led by the men ia all. tne Spanish ana .trench posts oa.tke unlf- poatt at that tiinA vm. Ia m. i ..;;.. rT." '-r- -- .-" -" BTiait MMBOMIT. THTMV I SSts&feiiil Si&tAJMmteZst .1 JB. '. -t(rt. IX . .. a -a v - -t. y.r. iLSO..jfC. ,sLtLj 1-4J 3KAa--. .i,i-2ats&JL33ti&ra tSk. PanTr'aa -"7 -ftsL- .,teSsVHa.sa
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers