Pittsburg dispatch. (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, August 04, 1889, SECOND PART, Page 9, Image 9
WWR V w 3 -w 'w YPV -Ss THE PITTSBURG DISPATCH w 1 PAGES 9 TO 16. SECOND PART. ? THE NEW "JERUSALEM. Introducing the American Type writer Into the Holy City. THE WONDERFUL RUINS OP ZION. Pretty Bethlehem Girls With Their Dow ries on Their Heads. TEE QUAIfiTEST CITY OF THE ORIENT rrnoir oca txavxlccq cohxissioxib. j ERUSALEM, July 8. I write this letter on the bouse top of a bishop's residence, on the top of Mount Ziou, in the center of Jerusalem. My American type writer stands with in 30 feet of the great square tower or David, the base of which was un doubtedly built be fore Christ. At jny left, surrounded by the yellow stone walls of houses, is the dark green pool which Hezekiah made to supply the holy city with water in case of a siege, and beyond it, out of the honeycomb of buildings, shines the great bronze dome, which stands over the spot on which Christ was crucified, and in which just now are worshiping pilgrims from every quarter of the Christian world. In front of me, not half a mile away, on a freat plateau covering 35 acres, is a ig octagonal tower with a bulbous ''bronze dome. It is the Mosque of Omar and it stands on the very site of Solomon's Temple, while at its left is the church built on the Boman mosaic floor of the house of Pontius Pilate. The hori zon on all sides is bounded by hills. Jeru salem lies in a nest in the mountains. It is built on an irregular plateau, with valleys about it and steep hills running straight up from these to the city and to the higher A Jerusalem Family. hills on the opposite sides. Around the edge of this plateau inns a wall about 30 feet high, and within this is the Jerusalem of to-day. It does not cover, all told, much more than the area of a 300-acre farm, and A good walker can make the circuit of its walls in an hourA " oilting", as l-jamiipon tu-sHa"fJSr.g 7 d's palace, seevthe wholeScity yreat oot before me. WhaVa curious city it'lsl In my .i of tlie world I have found no place ertPfull of strange sights, of picturesque characters, and so different in every par ticular from every other part of the world. Aside from its wonderfully interesting his torical associations, Jerusalem to-day is a city of itself. X GIGANTIC HONEYCOMB. Forty thousand people are packed within its narrow walls and it looks more like a great honeycomb than a city. The houses are piled one upon another in all sorts of ir regularities, and if yon would tak a half seclio j of land'and scatter over the whole great piles of gigantic btore boxes just as you find them back of a large store, you might get some ideaof Jerualem as it looks tj me from Mount Zion. These houses have no chimneys and their stone roots are in every case almost flat. Many of them have little beehive domes jutting out of their cen ter, and if the town were on a level these domes would look like the hav cocks of a great meadow at the time of harvest. Yel low limestone is the material of Jerusalem. The wood used in the building of the whole city would not last an American family a winter, and the roofs, walls and floors of these thousands of houses are of cold, yel- lowisb-whlte limestone. .ven in the Bishop's mansion, which is one of the finest in the city, I get out of my bed on to a stone floor and I walk to my ibreakfast through stone halls, down stone steps. There are no wells in this city of Jerusa lem. All of the water comes down in rain, and the trees and gardens of the town can be numbered on your fingers. The hills about the city are almost as barren as those of New England and the only foliage vis ible is the dark silvery green of the olive orchards on the Mount of Olives and along the hills between Jaffa and Bethlehem. The only green to be seen is an acre or so of common inide the walls of the temple plateau, and here and there a housetop, which by age has gathered a coating of dirt from the dust of the city, and on which the green grass has sprouted. Here nnd there you sec ruined arches which are too danger ous to be inhabited by the bees of this human hive, and ou these the moss and grass grow. There is one green busby tree at the base of Mount Calvary, and a solitary palm looks out over the city, beside the business street named after King David. It is not an attractive looking town, and its glaring cream white makes sore the eyes under the rays of this tropical sun. XT THE GATES OF JEBUSALEM. The walls of Jerusalem are clean and frell cut, and they have not the dilapidated condition of those of the cities of China. They are entered by gates which are closed at night, and at eacn of these gates Moham medan soldiers stand and exact a tax on all of the produce which comes into the citv. The main business gate is that which lends out behind the tower of David toward Jaffa. through which the Bethlehem girls bring their vegetables each morning to sell and . through which all of the imports which come by sea are brought in. This gate lies at my ieet, and I can see the curious throng which passes through it day in and day out. There are donkeys and camels with great loads on their backs. There are pilgrims by tfce thousands and all of the various characters which make up this curious peo ple. There Eoes a donkey led by a fat Turk in a yellow gown and red turban; he is bare-footed, and he is bringing wood into town to sell. The wood i the roots of olive trees and his donkey load is worth just 25 cents and be has had to pay 3 cents of a tax upon it at the gate. There is a Syrian Beduin upon a gray Arabian pony. He sits as straight as a telegraph pole and he looks with wonder ing glances out of his fierce black eyes at the crowd about him. He has a black and white woolen blanket on hit back, and his head is covered with a great yellow hand kerchief which is bound about the crown with two strands ot hair cord as big around as vonr finger. Behind him come three camels loaded with the oranges of Jaffa. Each carries a cartload in the two crates which bang on each aide of his back, and they grunt and grumble as their Beduin driver drags them along by a string tied to u& JMSik i?w$WSiif their noses. Next comes a troop of Turkish soldiers in blue European uniforms and red fez caps. They knock aside the Christians as they go along, and it makes one's blood boil to know that this land which is the holiest of all to Christian nations is in the hands of the Turks. The sound of the Turkish band is continuouslv heard in Jerusalem. The TurKieh sword and gun is everywhere and the Holy Sepulcher itself is guarded by Turks. PBETTY BETHLEHEM GIRLS. There is a market inside the Jaffa gate and I can see it just under me as I write. Great piles of oranges and lemons lie upon the flag sidewalk and there are scores of women with baskets of vegetables before them. Many of these are from Bethlehem and the Bethlehem girls are the prettiest you see in Jerusalem. They have straight, well rounded forms, which they clothe in a long linen dress of white, beautifully embroid ered in silk, so that a single gown requires many months of work. This dress is much iike the American woman's night gown without the frills and laces. It falls frbm the neek to the ieet and is open at the front of the neck in a narrow slit as far down as A Belle of Bethlehem. a modest decollette fashionable dress. Over this they have sleeveless cloaks of dark' red stripes and their heads are covered with long shawls of linen beautifully embroidered. Just above her forehead each girl carries her dowry in the shape of a wreath-like strip of silver coins which stand on end fastened to a string and crown the forehead with money. Some of the girls have several rows of these coins and some have crowns of gold. Not a few have coins of silver and gold the size of our twenty-dollar gold pieces hung to strings about their necks, and none of the women hide their pretty faces, as do those Moham medan girls near by, who, in shapeless white gowns with flowery white and red veils cov ering the whole of their faces, look like girls playing ghosts in white sheets. Beside these are Bussian girls in the peas ant costumes of modern Europe, and Jewish maidens in gowns and flowered shawls. There are Greek priests with high, black caps and monks of all kinds, such as you see under the black cowls of Europe. The Syrian, the Turk, Jthe Beduin, the Arme nian and the Greek are all in that crowd below me, and among them all is the form of the ubiquitous American traveler, who in pith helmet hat and green sun umbrella has conquered the East as well as the West A BEDUIN INN. I was much interested in a Beduin inn, which I next visited, and I imagine that this inn was much the same as the stable in which Jesus Christ was born. It consisted of a series of vaulted chambers, the walls and roofs and floors of whiehwere of jtone. These chambers, like the stores, had no light, and they covered altogether about the area of a good-sized house. Entering the narrow door I found four donkeys and two camels in one vaulted compartment. Upon a ledge near by, with .nothing but a dirty straw mat to separate them from the stones, three Beduin men h their black and white gowns lay dozing. In another, cave like compartment were several horses, and the only sign of civilization was a European lamp, which was burning American coal oil in the back of another cave. Through my guide I chatted with the keeper of the inn, and he told me that his cbarge.for feeding keeping and washing a donkey or a horse was 5 cents a day. Nearly all of the business and manufac turing establishments of Jerusalem are of this cave-like character. There is a nest in the city Known as the bazaars, and this is made up of long streets -vaulted over with these caves, opening out from the walls on both sides and with every sort of work going on ic them. The tools are. I doubt not. the same as those which were used in the days of Herod and Christ, and the crowd of cus. tomers is much the same. Above these streets and above all of this under Jerusa lem houses are built The city has a half a dozen different levels, and the Jerusalem of to-day is founded upon the remains of sev eral Jernsalems of the past In some places by excavation, other houses and temples have been found below the level of the present city, and there is perhaps no city in the world which so well pays excavation as this one. Just outside of the present city, in building a new monastery, the monks have come upon some very fine mosaics, and they claim to have undoubted evidence that the spot on which their monastery stands is the place on which St Stephen stood when he was stoned. Ton see Greek and Boman capitals and columns in many parts ot the present Jerusalem, and the whole of Palestine is honeycombed with ruins. If the fund, which is now talked of in America, for making excavations at Delpho: in Greece were devoted to Palestine there is no doubt out that under the proper explorers it could accomplish wonders. WOHTIEEFrI, Eunrs. It must be remembered that Jerusalem has been almost entirely destroyed a num ber of times, and that it has undergone two score ot sieges. The walls which sur round the city and especially those which run up from Solomon's temple are from 80 to 100 feet under ground, and these were undoubtedly at one time on the level with Jerusalem. I visited the church of St Anne a few days ago and I was shown a marble pillar a large as any of those in the Capitol at A Beduin. Washington, which had been dug up a few days betore, and there are vaults and tombs, houses and streets under the pres ent city of Jerusalem quite as interesting as those which have been unearthed at Pompeii in recent times. I have been taken down to the original floor and court in which Pontins Pilate examined Christ, and I have had hundreds of antique silver and copper coins offered me which undoubtedly date further back than the time of Christ These walls found underneath Jerusalem are many feet thick. They are built of ?:reat slo'nes, and some of them are so care oily put together that a knife blade cannot be inserted between them. One who has not visited Palestine can have no idea of its wonderful ruins. The tombs of the kings on the edge of the city are large enough to put a city house inside of the pit which, cut out of the solid rock, forms the entrance into them, and a recent excavation of the pool ot Bethesda shows that it is 80 feet deep and that it covers nearly an acre. New streets are everywhere found, and under the 35 acres which is now devoted to the Mosque of Omar, and which the Turks will not alio w to be excavated, there are some of the most wonderlul rnins of history. Just outside of this temple the earth has been excavated for 125 ieet before the rock upon which the foundation wall rests has been found and in one place alone there was found GOO feet of a gallery. The whole of the space under these acres is honeycombed with vast tanks and there is one here that will hold 2,000,000 gallons of water. It is supposed that there are a number of valuable old books under this territory, and the Jerusalem which is now covered with houses has as many tiers of dwellings below it as above it A SERIES OF STONE BOXES. The upper city, or the town' of to-day, is made up, as I have said, of a series ot stone boxes piled one on the top of the other. Each great stone box is a dwelling, and these dwellings are as enrious as the vault like stores. Pew of them have any windows, and most of the rooms are of the same cave like character. I have gone through the houses of Jews and ot Greeks, and I find that multitudes live in a single nest of rooms, and the old story of the Psalm comes back to me: "Jerusalem a city Is, Compactly built together. Unto tuat place the tribes go up, The tribes of God go'thitner.1! The town is as compact ,to-day as when David thrumbed upon his harp, and the tribes not only of Palestine, but of all the world, come here to worship. There are magnificent monasteries scattered through out the citv and on the very top of 'the Mount of Olives, a great Bussian church lifts the bulbous domes towards heaven. In the Garden of Gethsemane, where Christ spent the night before he was crucified, there is a resting place for pilgrims, and the Boman Catholics have 1,500 brothers and sisters in their monasteries and convents, while the old Armenian church has a big monastery near the gate of Zion, which con tains 180 monks and which can accommo date 2,000 pilgrims. There are Greek Christians here by the thousands and there are Syrians and Copts by the hundreds. There are Abyssinian priests with faces as black as your hat, and you may see every costume and hear every language in the wor shipers who gather around the holy sepul cher. The Jerusalem of to-day is the Mecca of millions of souls. It is to hundreds of millions the holiest spot on the face of the Sartb. And among the others whom I have met in Palestine is the party of American Boman Catholics, the first pilgrimage which has ever been made to the Holy City by a band from the United States. It is above all a religious city, and, stranger than all, it is again becomine a city of the Jews. The Jews are fast coming back into Palestine, and the Jews of Jerusalem, who now make 'up a large part ot the city, are far different irom their brothers in any other part of the world. Their movement toward the Holy land is strange, and their Jite here is so in teresting that I have made it the subject of investigation, the results of which I will give you next Sunday. Fbank G. Caepeitxzb. A LAUGH THAT BIHGS. How to Distinguish ibe Good fellow From the) Sneak. Chicago Journal. A young man who is credited by his friends with being a good deal of a philoso pher penne'd me up in a corner to-day and harangued me as follows: "Did you ever study the human laugh as an index to human character? It is an infallible test, me boy. Did you ever know a, man who simpered andgicgled like a girl who wasn't a sneak in his heart? And, on the contra ry, did you ever know a fellow who laughed squarely out with a good honest roar who wasn't the prince of good fellows? A shrill laugh is indicative of deceit, and a deep chuckle proves sincerity and good nature. By this I don't mean that a man with a tenor voice can't laugh as though he was honest, or' one with a bass voice cover his insjneerity with a mere bellow. It's the ring that talks. If the laugh has no ring in it you can put the fellow down as a hall-hearted cuss, no matter if his laugh is loud enough to lift the roof of the Audi torium. Stand 20 men up in a row before me and do something to set them all laugh ing, and I'll separate the good fellows from the Miss Nancies about as quickly as you could get outside a beefsteak after a year's famine. See?" I said I saw, and made a successful dive for liberty. WILLIKG TO C0MPR0MIBE. Jones Wasn't Fartlcnlar, ao Lone as He Got HI Dinner. New Tors: World. 1 "When I used to run a grist mill over in Scrub Grass township," said Uncle Silas Bowersox, "an old skinflint named Ab Jones always managed to go-home to mill jnst in time to be invited to dinner or sup per, as the case might be. This went along most alhsnmmer, when the old woman got mighty sick of it an' told me I musn't in vite him any more. I didn't see 'how I could very well help it, the "way Jones managed things, bnt the old lady was pretty slick herself, and told me J. could just tell him that I was sorry, but that we didn't have a bite of bread in the house. That looked like an easy way to get out of it, and so the next time Jones kern to mill and lingered by thejirookside, ao to say, I jest up and told him how awful sorry I was that I couldn't invite him to stay to dinner, bnt it happened that Mrs. Bowersox didn't have a bite of bread or biseult in the house. " 'Oh, well," says old Jones, 'pies and cakes will do.' " "An' pies an' cakes it had to be." Hot TJp to His Expectations. Toung Deadhead "Quit yer foolin' bow, Tom Bowers I Dls show is a fraud. I can't see nothin' but two great-AIg brown post with cobble-stones set .jronnd 'a?' Judge. 4wW j flfj ri j wsp PITTSBURG, SUNDAY, CHASING CARE AWAY How the Merry.Youtbs and Maidens Enjoy Life at Old Orchard. A BAD CASE OP 8PEAINED ANKLE. TJie Effect of the Atmosphere Upon the Appetite and Dancing. CANADIANS A PB0MINENT FEATUBE rwarrrtx roa ihk pisfatcb. Old Oechabd Beach, Me., August 2. HIS place is no new invention in the way of a sum mer resort, but it is aluminous example of what most New Yorkers think they have a monopoly of the vertigo-producing, wave-wash- v'ed woodpiles, where ,.; it requires diplo macy, wealth and brute force to get a dinner placed before you. Old Orchard is a slightly diluted Coney Island, with a dash of Narragansett ana one portion of Glen Island thrown in. It has its merry-go-rounds, its tent shows, and its camp meet ings. It is architecturally crude from 'the hissing, rattling railroad that cleaves it in two, up to the horniest and swellest hotel that it contains. Whole Carloads of raw excursionists are being constantly emptied out of open cars; those young men who wear lightning jackets are forever batting a tennis ball over a net A Pretty Feature of the Promenade. to a beefy girl in a white jersey; a sort of Chinese orchestra plays operas on string in struments whieh the damp atmosphere has taken the heart out of. But the beach ahi there is grandeur enough about this beach to make up for a world of conventional dis agreeabilities. It Is ten miles long, and affords as good driving as the average race track. The immense waves pound in like so many waterfalls, tipping the bathers upside down, and freezing the beauty out of a pretty face as quickry as will a sleigh tide in the teeth of a February gale. Large-belted men and women of equal girth tip-toe into the surf, receive one cuusurao eollee on the back of the neck, and then come out as graceless as kangaroos, with all their dignity and poise gone. They don't enjoy it. They say they'do, but they don't But you find comfortable and sensible groups sprinkled negligently about in the warm sand being "photographed like this, then photographed like that," all free of ex pense, by one of those amateurs that are now as plentiful in the country as cows. It is hard to conceive of the copiousness in the way of young people that is to be found at this place. Every hotel is a cornucopia of youths and maidens, and, of course, that assures a vast amount of frivolity. Dancing is a perfect rage. It begins after breakfast and doesn't cease till toward the following morning. Twice each week a full dress hop is perpe trated, and the girls dare to be showy in their costumes, while the men actually have nerve enough to come down in evening dress, looking like trussed turkeys. It is a strange distortion of ruralness, this. So fashionable are some of the girls that I have sketched one ot them in her afternoon prom enade attire, and of an evening the toilets are ball-like, as shown by the next picture of two fair young Old Orchard iles. One hecomes acquainted readily here, for a lovely young man is hired on purpose to promote social intercourse. He gets a new comer by the lapel of the coat and tows him up to dancing girls; these latter are always anxious to sample a fresh partner. I think they judge a man by his waltz movement The exquisite "master ot ceremonies" is more of a success with the ladies than a United States Senator would be, if he didn't know how to balance to corners. You see, that is another peculiarity about the sea- Old Orchard' Sweetest Fruit. shore. Skilled limbs outclass a trained in tellect A bald, fat man doing the polka in good form would be more ADHIBIMGLT SCnUTINIZED by the femaleB than would a soulful poet with the bead of a Byron. The artist might obtain shocks here, but the worldly, red blooded pleasure seeker moves in the good natured crowd, gets smiled at, smiles back and says to himself "I like it" The rea sons for liking it are many, and are sub stantial enough for summer -weather. The people here are such as the citified worker has not been accustomed to dealing with, at least they are all playing different parts thft those we saw them in last winter. More than half of themxcome from Canada, lend ing a fascinating sort of'fdreign atmosphere to the place, with their parody on the French language, their rapid ways and their remarkable toggery. It seems as if the noble old State of-Maine surrounded the place without having the proprietorship of it Tiro good people of the State do not seem able to utilize the pleas ures here, except in a single exciting dose, consisting of a bath, a dinner and flight On the hotel registers we find the namjes of the residents of Montreal, Ottawa andQue bec, not those ot the leading townsrJen of Sacearappa, Amenticus and Fryebnr Still, -the girls get the very newest frhiau nenavior. xne Bana-ionea.is on, no - &'!' t 9 - K 1 AUGUST 4, 1889. longer do these upHS-dato belles kiss each 'Other in public, nor gush at all, but simply touch fingers in so quick and casual a way that it cannot be called even a hand shake. It is the newest freak of stylish manners. CtTLTUBED FLIBTATIOH. Flirtation has been brought to the highest degree of culture at Old Orchard. A young man from New York arrived here at noon time one day last week, and, alter getting his baggage into his room, he took a chair an the front piazza, and be gan gazing down toward the vast expanse of sail-dotted sea, with its low-lying shores edged with foam. To the beach from this hotel it is an unobstructed half mile, and a plank walk runs directly from the hotel She Took the Whole Bill of Fare. steps to the bathhouses. Our young man declares that a sharp little girl of 16 de tected him on the piazza when she opened the door of her bathroom, half a mile away. She walked straight up that walk with her eyes fixed on him, and, as she came near, he discovered that she was a clever and fine looking creature with auburn hair and blue eyes. He followed her with his gaze as she moved up the steps, and she wore a sort of half smile on her pretty mouth as she steadily returned his look. When she reached the middle step she sank on one knee with a little cry of pain. The young man sprang to her assistance, asking if he could be of any service. "I have turned my ankle," said the girl. "Oh! it hurts sol Can you take my hand, phrase? Thanks." And with the assistance of the young man the fair creature limped up the steps and sank into the first chair that was come to. Of coarse the young man lingered, and spoke many solicitous words of sympathy, finally drawing a chair up near the girl and sitting down himself. It was the bathine .hour, and the hotel was practically deserted, so tnese two sat cnatting away about sprained ankles and liniments till the crowd began coming back from the beach. All the girls loosed with KUTIOUS EYES at the little fairy who had turned her ankle, and wondered who the stylish young man she was talking with could be. Dinner time came, and suddenly the girl jumped up from her chair. "I must go now and have my hair fixed for dinner," said she. I will see you again, shall I not?" and she cast upon him a look of flattering hope that he would not forsake her. "I sincerely hope X snail have that pleas ure," he replied. Then the jade went prancing off in a man ner which showed that her ankles were in perfect condition. Becovering her preseuce of mind at the door, she turned with a mis chievous and coquettish look toward the as tonished young man, and limped out of sight, shrugging her shoulders as she went At these seaside places eating is reduced A Piratical Crew. from a science to a business. It is a shock to a delicate dude the first time he eats with a girl who has acquired an Old Orchard ap petite. "What shall T order?" asked one novice, as he aimed bis eyeglass at a bill of fire. "Well, I usually have it all brought," she replied, "and not half of it gets away again." In this dining room crowded solid full of eaters I observe that the clergyman antici- Sates his neighbor on the last slices of read in sight, that the poet explores the chow-chow jar with tremendous excitement and a sure aim, while girls whose etheriality would indicate a limited capacity in all save soul come down to earth and eonsume rare roast beef and boiled potatoes with an air of profound triumph. ALL IK THE AIB. It is all in the air, of course. This sea air covers a multitude of evervthine. It stimulates children so that they can't get to bed till near midnight It instigates here more successlul dances than one is accus tomed to find in summer weather. A hop I or a german here is positively imposing in its whirling plentlfulncss. The dance hall is dazzling with a moving throng of people who are not afraid to come outin every color that nature knows, or dyeing establishment can produce. The result ot this courage is not artistic, but it opens up new and inter esting fields lor the looker-on, and he issu able to poke fun at the occasion, for it goes with a snap and vigor that invests it with dignity. It would congeal the blood of a Kewportian, perhaps, bnt he would be apt to ask himself whether he or these crudi ties here had divined the secret of true hap piness. The yonngsters are particularly jolly, and no prettier sight could be found thaithe stranded boatload of them whom I now see from my window as I write. While Old Orchard is not wholly admir able, it is surely entertaining. The In dians, who formerly held sway in a splen did grove, but who have been crowded into a shadeless miserymore wretched even than their hounded species is usually driven to, are no doubt. reminded, as they look about them here, of their old time war-dances,and perhaps they wonder which are getting civil ized, the v or the white-races. I could tell them at least, that no Indian maiden could ever reach the state of civilization which prompted that girl to turn her ankle in order to become acquainted with a good, looking New York man. Kasieua. Derivation of a Name. rlflst Hempited fas the dog-cart breaks down) I hope you're not hurt. Uncle. UBcle) Corbett-fl'm alive, Helen, and now I guess I Know why you called this thing trap. Puck. A MAGN By EDWARD WEITTKS TOB CHAPTER!. HE strange career of Marcus Bodney, in ventor, scholar and electrician, has long been a source of a vast amount of gossip and speculation. The facts of his "case are known to me alone, and I now intend to make them public, partly to relieve my self of a weighty secret, and partly to open the eyes of scientists to a great discov ery. At the age of 30 Marcus Bodney was what the world calls "a failure." Although he was in perfect Health, cultured, encrgetio and in mental attainments a many-sided man, society looked at his thread-bare coat, his stern, forbidding countenance, learned that he lived in cheap lodgings and had "no visible means of support," and at once placed him outside its own narrow limits and left him severely alone. It is true that Bodney was entitled by birth to a standing in the community verv different from xhe one he held. He had, however, become somewhat soured by his inability to acquire money, and made no effort to claim from the friends ot his youth the consideration due him. 'He had invented various electrical contrivances, and had patented an improved sight for rifles, bnt bis lack of taot and his unpleasing personality had made it difficult for him to interest capitalists in his de signs. He was a queer fellow in many ways, abrnpt in speech and, at times, very sarcas tic. I remember a remark he once made to me which, to some extent, illustrated his character. He had been sitting for a long time, his huge head resting upon his hand and his ungainly body reclining upon a sofa. "Old man," he exclaimed, at length, turning his large, gray eyes full upon me, "When I die I want you to place upon my gravestone this epitaph Q. E. D.' " The very essence of modern taUlisia lay in his words. , One night, not many years ago, I had left my luxurious quarters on Fifth avenue to visit my old friend in his dingy room on the East Side. It was a warm evening in July, and, as I entered his apartment, he was sit ting'at an open window smoking a pipe. The cries of countless ragged children filled the air, and the odor of an uncleanly and over-populated neighborhood offended the senses. Little did I suspect at the moment that upon our conversation that night would hinge the fate of Marcus Bodney. He was in a more talkative mood than usual, but his loquacity did not seem to be the result of cheerful spirits. 'Never before had I heard him so bitterly bewail his lack ot success, but he freed his overburdened heart to me iu words of touchine earnestness. Why should he, a man of ability, a scien tist, a student, a worker, a progressive thinker, be condemned to poverty and neglect, while the world poured its treasures into the lap of fools? What was his weak ness? Where had he failed to take advan tage of his opportunities? He put these questions to me spitefully, almost desperate ly. Finally he said: "The truth is, my friend, I repel men. There is something about me which antago nizes the very people I want tj attract There is not a child in the street there who would approach me. I have lived in this populous house for three years, and no man or woman has ever wished me 'good day-.' I believe I am the only man in the city who was never, besoueht by a betrpar. When I enter an office to talk business with a stranger, I seem to chill my victim by a single glance. Good God, sir! Am I a leper or a scoundrel? Have I the small pox? .Am I the Wandering Jew or the Prince of Darkness? Why should my lei-low-men detest me?" After a moment he became calmer and continued: "All this has had an evil effect upon my nature. Whatever warmth of feeling I may once have had for mankind has-been destroyed. Hereafter I shall let no sympathetic throb agitate my heart From this time forward I shall take my way through the world coldly, unpityingly, remorselessly." He arose, lighted a candle, and going to a bookshelf brought a much-thumbed volume to the window. Placing the light advan tageously, he said: "I have been reading a book by Hamerton entitled, 'Human Inter course.' I have been much struck by his opening sentences. Listen: 'A book on hu man interconrse might be written in a va riety of ways, and anion e them might be an attempt to treat the subject in 'a scifntifio manner, so as. to elucidate those natural laj.3 by which intercourse between human beings must be regulated. If we knew quite perfectly what those laws are we should enjoy the great convenience of being able to predict with certainty which men and women would be able to associate with pleasure, and which would be constrained or repressed in each other's society. Human intercourse would then be as much a posi tive science as cnemistry, in wnicn ine effect of bringing substances together can bo loretold with the utmost accuracy.' Aeain later on, the author says: 'Sympathy and incompatibility these are the two powers that decide for us whether intercourse is to be possible or not, but the causes of them are dark mysteries that lie undiscovered far down in the abysmal deeps of personality!" He was silent for a time, and, relighting his pipe, puffed away nervously. I let him indulge his dreams for awhile, though I was anxious to learn the cause of bis interest in the words of the English writer. I realized, however, that it was best to permit him to take his own course in the conversation, as he was one of those eccentric men who can not be hurried. My self-restraint was re warded. "Sympathy and incompatibility," he re peated after a time. "Those are terms un known to exact science. They may satisfy an artist, like Hamerton, but they mean nothing to me." Here he arose and paced up and down the narrow room. "But I understand him," I interposed. "I have long believed that the indifference or one individual toward another is an im possibility. I was never presented for the first time to a man or woman that I did not feel either drawn to or repelled by that per son. Sometimes the feeling for or against is slight, sometimes intense, but a negative condition of the emotions is impossible at such a time. Another curious fact lVthat this feeling of attraction or repulsion Is sometimes reversed upon a second or third meeting with the individual in question." "Doubtless that ir all true," he returned somewhat petulently; "bnt it is simply a statement of phenomena. What I want is a scientific explanation of the facts you men tion." "And that you will never obtain,"' I re marked confidently. He blew out the candle and drew his chair to my side. Peering into my face, he said: "O, yes, I will. And society shall pay dearly for my discovery." There was somethinguncanny in his man ner that affected me unpleasantly. I pushed my chair back and gazed out into the night The street had grown quiet and a white, soft moon was Just peepine with calm indif ference above the homes of poverty. Across the war J could see a workman in his shirt. sleeves sitting at -an. open window, while a slatternly woman leaned oyer his brawnyS shoulder. Why is it that such people ETIC MAN S. VAN ZILE. THE DISPATCH. forever peering into the street? Do they hope to catch a glimpse of fortune making toward their doorway? . After awhile I turned to Bodney and asked: "What do yon mean?" "I mean Ampere," he answered curtly. "Ampere, Ampere," I repeated. "Why the deuce don't you talk English?" He smiled condescendingly. "Can it be that I have a Philistine here ?" he asked musingly. "You come from your home of wealth to the East Side to ask who Ampere was?" "Ah, he was a man then ?" "Yes, he was a man, and a great one. Bnt he only paved the way for me." Excitedly he arose and paced the room again. I shall never forget the weird picture he presented. His long, tousled hair hung about his enormous head as though it had been flung there by a mischievous sprite. His gray eyes had turned black with excitement, and his face, unsymmetrical as a piece of gnarled oak, was almost ghastly in its pal lor. His gigantic and clumsy figure seemed to fill the small room. His flannel shirt was open at the neck, and as he shuffled about in his loose slippers I cojild hardly believe that I saw before me a man possessing the culture of the schools and the breeding of a gentleman. He sat down by my side again. "Ampere," he explained in a cold, hard voice, as though lecturing to a class of schoolboys, t "established the hypothesis upon which we explain the phenomena of electro-magnetism." "Yes," I returned, rather Wed. "I don't care much for that sort of thing, don't you know?" "But he and his followers." went on Bod ney pedantically, "have confined their re searches and discoveries to a very limited sphere. You are fond of me, old man?" His question was so unexpected that I HE HURLED HIS GLASS looked up in astonishment What had my liking for him to do with Ampere? I began to fear that constant failure had affected my friend's brain. "You know I am, or I wouldn't be here." "That's so," he said, looking aronnd the little room vith a sad smile on his face. "You are tha only visitor I ever entertain. It seems almost too bad that it is only a case of currents." I was more than ever convinced that he was losing his mind. I did not dare to speak for fear of agitating him still further. "A fine place to be caught with a mad man," I reflected, as I peered through the darkness toward the door. He observed my emotion and went on: "Come, come, my boy; I will tease you no Ionger,but the fact is I have made a tremen dous discovery. The world is at my feet In another month I shall be wealthy, court ed, happy, and it's all owing to Ampere and Hamerton. Strange combination that? It's seldom you can make a compound tof a Frenchman and an Englishman and obtain as a result riches, glory and all the good things of the earth. I tell you it's the greatest feat ever 'performed by what we might call mental chemistry." I let him have his say, and then asked calmly: "And what Is the discovery?" "Let the results answer your question. It may "be that I am over-sanguine in this matter. Heaven knows I have had bold hopes before, and they have always turned to dust" "Is that all you will say to satisfy my cu riosity?" I remarked, rising togo. I had not wholly laid aside the fear that the man might at any moment become dangerous. "No, sit down. I will go a step furtheri with you. Do you know why you and I' have always been friends? 'Sympathv," says Hamerton. 'Bosh,' sav I. The fact is our respective electric currents have always flowed in the same direction. Result at traction. Unfortunately for me, the electric current ot other men flow in the opposite direction from mine. Result repulsion. Why, then, are you not as unpopular as I am? you ask. Therein lies a mystery. Let us put it for the sake of argument, that the electric current pertaining to your sensitive individuality is more adaptable than that which dominates my unyielding self. Do you follow me? You acknowledgevhat some men urac you ana omeis repel you. xou further assert that sometimes vou like a cer tain man, and again detest him. That is, L your electric current sometimes flows in one direction, sometimes in another. If you will be honest with yourself, you will admit that your liking for me not only has degrees ot intensity, bnt sometimes changes into almostaversion. Fluctuation in the currents, sir. Just think of my theory for a moment Does it not explain a vast number of social phenomena? Take matrimony, for instance. Two young people are drawn irresistibly to ward each other. They marry. Alter a time the currents become disturbed. Per- f'L . stV ICtPMt 3v g wjm? c W "Welcome, Welcome, Old Jfan." haps some night the husband comes horns with his electricity flowing from his feet to his head. It is the first time that this ha occurred. His gentle wife has calmly . maintained a current whicn flows frf m her head to her feet, and greets him as usual. XTltimate result divorce. Do you follow me?" "Whew! Well, I cannot honestly say that I do. But I'm not a scientific man. t Perhaps if I knew more about the subject I ' might grasp your meaning more readily, t Even admitting, however, that you are right, in the main, I really cant't see how your discovery will do you the slightest good. It t is interesting, and, if you could prove yourV propositions, might give you some notoriety in certain circles. But von talk of wealth. i power and all that. What do you mean?" fa "My dear boy," he remarked in a pater. nal way, and with a ring of triumph in hit penetrating voice; "the step from such a dis covery to its practical application is very short. Ton have known me only as a theor ist, a reader, a talker. You must not for get that I am a practical electrician, a me chanic, an inventor and a desperate man." He said the last two words under his breath, as though rather ashamed of them. In a moment he went on: "I have not yet solved all the problem presented to me, but you will admit that if a man could obtain complete control of his own electric currents, and at the same time be able to learn the direction in which tha current of another person with whom be was conversing, was flowing, he could fascinate or antagonize that person at will. Further more, if he could control the strength of his own current he could moderate or increase, that attraction or repulsion at pleasure. Then would all the prizes of the earth be his. For know, my friend, that it is not merit, nor intellect nor energy, nor will, nor ona of a thousand other things conducive to suc cess, which is the most potent factor in tha attainment thereof. Give me only tha power to win the affection of men and women and I will squeeze lrom this queer world all Tt that men hold dear. I have seen men who were pygmies beside me intellectually far T outstrip me in the race of life, because 'they g wcio wuai js emeu magnetic. Jiiy friend," here he arose and drew himself ud to his full Leight; "my friend, I am about to become a magnetic man." I walked home musingly. The air was cool, for midnight had come, and the moon looked down on a city grateful for tha TO THE FLOOB IX A BAGS. bracing breeze which blew in from the sea. "Is Marcus Bodney a madman or a genius?" was the problem in my mind. Little did I imagine how important to me would be tha solution ot that question. CHAPTER IL Weeks passed, but I did not see Bodney again. In placing my friendship for him upon, a purely scientific basis, he had shocked my tenderest feelings. Fori had been unselfish in my intercourse with him, and had often sacrificed my inclinations for the sake of cheering him up by my presence". My Fiancee Fell Fainting Into 2fy Arm, I would and could have dose more for him than I had, if he had not been snch a proud, unapproachable fellow; but, nevertheless, what small attentions he would accept I had always gladly rendered. I was annoyed, therefore, at the materialistic interpretation he had placed noon my affection for him, and could not persuade myself to see him again. - It was early in the fall before I heard of him. One day I read in a newspaper that the War Department had adopted "tha Bodney sight lor rifles." At the time I did not realize that the item referred to my friend's device, but not long afterward X read that Marcns Bodney, inventor of tha improved rifle-sight had become manager of the Graball Electric Motor Company. I at once wrote him a letter of congratulation, to which he returned no answer. A week later a column was devoted in one of tha morning journals to a description of Marcus Rodney's inventions, and the article stated incidentally that "this wonderful genius" was rapidly acquiring a large fortune Irom his royalties. The writer also asserted that "Mr. Rodney is one of the most fascinating men in the country, possessing a personal ity which attracts men instantly and sur rounds him with warm and enthusiastic friends." "Do you know Marcus Bodney?" I was asked at my club one night "Yes, I used to be intimately acquainted with him. Why?" ".Well, his name is up for membership. His proposers are so uncompromising in their praise that they hare almost made hia a laughing-stock in the committee. What sort of a fellow is he?" "A gentleman and a gonias. He will be a valuable addition to the club." I said this perfunctorily, though, to tell the truth, I did not look forward to Rod ney s admission with any great pleasure. His picture, as I had last seen him, was la my mind and 1 could not imagine him as a . a n.o)l Alnl. h a .. Td .1 Ia.1.. .! nowever, I was surprised to find that I had done him an injustice. I had entered tha smoking room ot the club one evening after dinner, when my attention was instantly attracted by a tall, striking-looking man dressed richly, but in good taste, who was puffing a cigar in front of the wood firo which crackled in the grate. The back of his head looked familiar, and as I stepped forward he turned toward me. It was Marcus Rodney. The old fondness for h bKf" VJ t2&.