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.
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