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PITTSBURG, SUNDAY, SEPTEMBER
1889.
r THIRD PART.
29,
)
W OF LETTERS,
One Day in the Life of a Uni
formed Bearer of Good and
Evil Tidings.
A TRAVELING PHILOSOPHER
Who
Has Daily Glimpses Into
Komances of Keal Life.
the
MISS MACHIAYELLIS' LITTLE SCHEME.
Tramping Through Rain and Mud with a
Letter-Carrier Lights and Shadows or
Botnan Nature The Girl Who Writes
for the Papers At an Italian Boardlnc
Home People Who Are Hard to Please,
and Others Who Are Easily Satisfied
The Felon's Wife and Her Weary
Watch.
rWEITTES FOB THK PISFATCH.1
Every morning, as sure as the clock.
Somebody hears the postman's knock.
English Ballad.
.ujsi. clever person
has discovered that
'the distance traversed
by a city letter carrier,
in the course of an or-
r dinary official life
time, equals, if it does
notexceed, thecircum-
ference of the earth.
, "Whether this be true
or false, it is at least
certain that a Pitts.
"burg carrier tramps
through as many dif
ferent degrees of tem
perature, and endures
as many climatic changes, as ever did that
most famous of all world -walkers, the wan
dering Jew himself.
In the fierce heat of midsummer, or the
nipping cold of the winter months, the car
rier's work never slackens, never abates.
He splashes through rain-washed byways,
tip to the ankles in grimy mud. The keen
winds of January buffet his face, and pel
him pitilessly with stinging Eleet The
snow crunches beneath his weary footsteps,
and slips in at the crevices of his thickest
boots.
But letter carving has its bright side, like
every other human occupation. To the
student of human nature, the carrier's route
supplies instances innumerable. There are
letters for the plutocrat in his breakfast par
lor, for the toiler in his attic The carrier
passes from stately dwelling modelled in
the most ornate styles of Europe, to reeking
shajntics erected with an unhappy disregard
of the principles of architecture and testhet
ics. Consequently every phase of city life
is seen by him, and it is his own fault if he
be not a philosopher.
TBOCBLE FOB THE CABBIES,
A fchort time ago a Dispatch reporter
JJiss Huchiavelli's Little Scheme.
set out, on the rounds, with an intelligent
carrier. The route selected embraced a
highly fashionable, and a decidedly unfash
ionable quarter of the town. There was no
special line between these two quarters, but
the one faded imperceptibly into the other
as darkness into night.
First the aristocratic streets were covered.
There was no emotion to be found there;
everything was conducted on the principle
which puts grief away in the vest pocket
until it can be indnlged in withont shock
ing society. A few of the idiosyncrasies of
the proprietors, however, could be noticed
from the manner in which they wished their
letters delivered. Everybody had a special
way, and woe to the luckless carrier who
dares to disobey the command of the house
holder in this respect. One gentleman pro
vides a slot in his door; another hangs a
letter box in the outer hall. .Others wish
their letters -pushed under their doors;
others again like them thrown over through
the transom. In some houses it is the cus
tom for the carrier to descend the basement
steps and tap at the windows till someone
comes to take the letters. The postoffice
rule requires a wait of 30 seconds, but very
often this limit has to be exceeded. On a
rainy day, waiting in the area is anything
but "agreeable, for the water from the eaves
pours down one's back in little playful run
Jets, and often there comes a small Niagara,
which knocks off one's cap and saturates the
letters.
In some of these houses the people offered
tea and coSee to the carrier, but alack, he
bad no leisure for these creature comforts.
Beer and whisky are often proffered him,
but the postal authorities strictly forbid the
use of drink, even on the coldest and wettest
days. Though his very heart soak in the
waiter, though his limbs be nnmb with cold,
the carrier must not drink any stimulant
whatsoever. The day was rainy, so one
pretty maiden wanted the postman to bor
row her umbrella. He was obliged to re
fuse. "Haven't hands enough for it, miss,"
he said, and verily he had not One arm
was occupied in embracing his mail, thel
otner in lenaing on jne virulent attacks of
other umbrellas, which came hurrying up
the street, sweeping off hats, and poking ont
eyes on their way.
SHE WEOTE FOE THE PAPEES.
Two or three gentlemen met the carrier in
mid-street and asked for their letters. It
must require long practice to enable a man
to recollect, precisely, everyone for whom
be has a communication, yet it is seldom
that the carrier makes a mistake. At first
they leel a little awkward when thus sud
denly accosted, but they quickly get used to
it Another thing, hard to remember in the
fashionable quarter, is what particular
youne ladies wish their billets-doux held
over for personal delivery. A fair creature
meets the carrier, quite by accident of
course at the corner, back of her home. She
assumes an expression of countenance, al
most .Machiavellian in its capability to de
ceive, and says: -Oh, Mr. Carrier, I am
writing for the newspapers on thesly, and
I don't want my folks to know. Will you
please keep all mj letters till you meet me
r r. stiafn tn anwnia nlaa '
In person. uon skd """ -j j-
of
the carrier agree, uu Mu
AW
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jWwHl-
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SJMDX
"newspaper" letters come for Miss Machia
velli, who manages to meet the post in per
son every morning. The enrious part of the
affair is that all the letters are in the same
handwriting and bear the same postmark.
Gradually therich streets become exhausted
The cook's toothaches had air been inquired
after. The colored helps had made as much
fuss as possible. There were no more
glimpses of "madamoiselle en papilottes,"
or of monsieur in his dressing gown. Ma
chinery began to whirr on every side, and
the sidewalks got muddier and more un
pleasant. A German store was reached, and
,an oblong business letter delivered. The
Germans, it appears, get very few letters;
hardly any from the Fatherland. In this re
spect they differ vastly from the Italians
and Irish.
On the way was an Italian boarding
house, which gets some 200 letters per week.
A small army of Diecos and Luigis live
here, every man doing his own cooking and
shifting as best he can. The courier was re
ceived with a graceful bow from the chief
personage in the house, who took the mail
from his hands, and proceeded to read out
the names on the envelopes. One handsome
young fellow was kneeling by the fire,
watching some stew or other, evidently not
expecting a letter. Suddenly the "padrone"
called out "Giovanni Battista Stovelli,"
or some such name.
The young fellow was on his feet in an
instant, his black eyes ablaze with light
He took the letter and put it gently to his
lips. "Mia madre," he said, showing his
white teeth in a happy smile as he went off
to read his mother's letter in some secluded
corner of his own.
NO QBUMBLEES HEEE.
"How." said the carrier, "we are enter
ing the Irish quarter. These Irish are the
best people in the world to get along with.
They're not particular whether you put the
letter under the door or over it You may
leave it in the middle of the yard and they
won't complain." The route lav down a
long narrow passage into an alley. The
rain had ceased by this time, but the water
from the roofs came trickling down the
sooty surface of the bricks like tears down
the cheek of a coalheaver. Unfortunately
a good many of these tears jail over the
immaculate shirt bosoms of unwary visitors,
and the only safeguard against thisdauger
is to copy the denizens of the locality and
eschew lanndried shirts altogetner.
The labor had now commenced. To dis
tinguish house No. 21 from house No.
An Italian Boarding Bouse.
22 when the former is so wedded to its neigh
bor that they seem to be one dwelling, is a
matter of extreme difficulty. A good deal
of delicacy is necessary in the matter of se
lection, as the lady who lives in No. 21 will
feel degraded if "them folks next door" get
her letters, while on the other hand the fam
ily at No. 22 regard the exterior of their
mansion as so much more respectable than
that of No. 21 that any mistake is looked
upon by them in the light of a direct in
sult The alleys are crossed by one or two
causeways of sound earth, but these are
hard to find and hard to follow. The greater
part of the surface consists of mud, beneath
which are various strata of cabbage stalks,
potato peelings and miscellaneous matter,
such as lobster tins and old boots. Yet in
the midst of all this dirt and disarray there
is human nature in these alleys joyous
spirits, deep feeling, honesty and" industry.
These people live here but for a while. By-and-by
their natural qualities will carry
them to the surface out of these murky
depths. Their rise is only a matter of time.
THE LETTEE THAT MXVEB CAME.
At one of the houses a girl came out with
a wan, wistful face. "Any letters for me?"
she asked; and when answered in the nega
tive, she bit her lip and turned away with a
lingering look at the carrier's face, as
though still in hope he might be mistaken.
"She has asked me that question every
day for the last three months," the carrier
said. "I wish to heaven she would not look
at me like that; it freezes me up like. I al
ways feel ashamed of myself when I have
to tell her that there are no letters tor her."
It was the dav for the delivery of the
Irish newspaper mail. There was a paper
for a Mrs. Doherty, who lived in a vard up
another alley. The carrier groped his way
up the narrow passage into the yard, anil
cried out, "Mrs. Margaret Doherty."
There was a dead silence. A lean, spiteful-looking
oat came out of a back door,
and picked its way gingerly over the uncer
tain surface. That was all. Again the car
rier cried, "Mrs. Margaret Doherty."
This time an npper window was lifted,
The Felon' Wife.
and a voice was heard to say: "Wait a
minit, can't ye, till I make myself dacent"
Mrs. Doherty had both her hands up
lifted, as though arranging her hair, and
she evidently spoke with a hairpin or two
in her mouth. After a while she came
down a portly rubicund, body, with s
pleasant face, distinctly Irish in its charac
teristics. She took the paper, opened the
wrapper and exclaimed: "Shure it's the
Skibbereen Eagle; the same blessed paper.
Talk of The Dispatch an' the rest of
them rags. Give me the Eagle any day."
A few more old country letters and the
Irish mail was distributed. Some of the
communications were slipped through the
apertures in broken windows, another was
thrown up to a man in an upper story and
deftly'caught in mid air. Then it became
time to make for the less interesting streets
once more.
THE MXON'S WIFE.
"Why does that poor girl ask you so con
stantly for letters?" asked the reporter
when a strip of dead wall was reached, and
the carrier had a few spare moments.
Til tell you," remarked the sage dis
tributor of good and ill, "she's a felon's
wife. Her husband was sentenced to prison
a few days after they were married. His
time was up three months ago, and ever
since she has been expecting a letter from
him. But as you see, the letter has never
come."
And soMhiS poor heart eats itself away in
the dismal old shanty waiting patiently for
lafffii. fmm H frAf?1lva atamvi a laffa
that never comes. Such are a few of the
V
sights a carrier comes across in his' rounds.
None of them very dramatic none of them
very emotional, because the emotion
and the tragedy are not displayed
upon the doorstep. It is in her
lonely room that the poor wife weeps
for her recreant husband; it is in her cozy
kitchen, surrounded by her little clan, that
Mrs. Doherty recalls old places, and
chuckles over old names, as she reads the
veracious pages of the Skibbereen Eagle.
The rich man receives his bad news in his
study, among bis books and papers. None
can see the weak side of his character, there;
A Dreary Promenade.
he may be just as pathetic as he pleases.
But even from the outside view of these,
the carrier guesses what goes on within.
That is why he is a philosopher.
So let him tramp his way through every
street and alley in this city of iron. Let
him bring news of death or of ruin to one
household news of fortune or joy to an
other. Under his rough gray clothes he has
a good heart and true; but circumstances
have made him a philosopher.
BBENAK.
POCKETS FOR POKER DECKS.
Convenient Receptacles In Which Extra
' Cards May be Hidden.
Chicago Mall.:
"I don't remember exactly what it was,
but I know I was telling a poker story when
the tailor said:
" 'By the way, do you want any poker
pockets in this suit?'
"1 looked at him rather, inquiringly and
said:
" 'Poker pockets?'
"" 'Yes,' he said, 'pockets for poker."
"I told him I didn't know what he meant
He laughed, and said:
" 'I mean special pockets for playing
poker.'
"I told him I had never heard of such a
thing and asked him to explain. Then he
said:
" 'I make clothes for a number of solid
business men and the club men who like to
play poker. They also like to win most
poeer players do. So I make special pock
ets in diffeient parts of their clothing, just
big enough to hold a playing card. For
one man I make a pocket in the right leg of
his trousers about midway between his nip
and his knee. The opening of this pocket
is in the seam and is not discernible, and as
the man plays along and gets a card that is
likely to prove useful, he quickly buries it
in this pocket by a dexterous move, which
he has practiced till he has it pat, and when
he needs this particular card, he springs It
and scoops the pot.
" 'For another customer I make a pocket
in the top of the left coat sleeve at the
cuff."'
NOT MUCH OP A-FELLOW.
A Hoosler Farmer Thinks Christopher
Colnmbus Didn't Amount to Much.
New York Eun.3
"On mv last trip throuch Indiana." said
a New York drummer the other day, "three
.. ... tf . ,t ... a nlrtnt at 41.A f.wnn i.. !
a small town. It was kept by a dreadfully
innocent-looking old chap, and in order to
guy him a bit the boys put him on that I
was Christopher Columbus, the discoverer
of America. The old fellow gave me con
siderable attention, fixed up the best room
in the house and introduced me to his aged
wife. Next morning as I sat on the veranda
smoking a cigar he came along and queried:
"Let's see. What did you do?"
"Discovered America," I soberly replied.
"Oh, yes."
He looked disappointed as he went away,
and in about ten minutes he returned to say:
"I've had it all wrong about you."
"How?"
"Why. I kinder had it that you was from
Washington, and I was thinking you might
get my boy Sam into some office."
."No, I'm not"
"You are only Christopher Colnmbus?"
"That's all."
"All vou ever did was to discover Amer
ica?" "
"That's all."
"Humph! I'll have to charge you extra
for them three biled eggs this morning, and
the old woman thinks she ought to have an
extra quarter for making real coffee- for you.
Ton orter told me last night that you didn't
amount to suthin'l"
K0YEL PISCATORIAL CONTESTS.
How Pegged-Down Matches Are Conducted
by New Orleans Anglers.
Heir York Snn.i
In New Orleans the anglers amuse them
selves with competitive fishing contests; the
like of which are known nowhere else. They
are called "pegged-down matches." The
method of conducting them is as follows:
Two fishermen of repute choose sides com
posed of not more than 20 persons each. The
day for thematch having been decided opon,
lots are drawn for positions on a certain long
bridge. Each man has a number marked
upon a stick, which is nailed to one of the
piles of which th'e structure is built When
once assigned to a place an angler cannot
move a greater distance than 30 feet either
to the right or the left
The fishing commences at an early hour
of the morning and continues throughout
the day. The worth of the fish is given
in figures from 100 down to 5. The
tarpon is marked at the highest number
down to sorts of the smallest value. The
contest is decided not according to the
amount of fish taken, but in relation to
their excellence as expressed in numerals.
The defeated party at the close of the con
test gives a supper to the conquerors. No
New Orleans angler has as yet taken a
tarpon, called there silver fish, with a rod.
With Regard to the Unities.
His Pet Waiter (to Monsieur Bapierre, the
sword swallower) Ah, my dear monsieur,
bonjour. I have you made a sandweech
to-day to se best of myapproprutene&sl
Judge,
GrJa Ubt 1 w&
JSsW
IS SOCIETY COBRUPT?
Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Our "Social
Weaknesses and Defects.
CItT AND RURAL LIFE COMPARED.
Things Wherein American Social Life i3 a
Little Loose.
THE WORST MAN THE POETESS ETER MET
WtiniH TOE THIS DISr.TCH.1
It is only the rustic, the dyspeptic, or the
declasse man or woman who is forever talk
ing of the "corruption" of society. Many
excellent people, whose lives have been
passed entirely in rural places, imagine the
society of large towns to be a hotbed of im
morality and godlessness.
People who have striven vainly for social
place and failed to find the open sesame are
often loud in their denunciations of the suc
cessful, and are wont to compare society to a
whited sepulcher. But the cosmopolitan,
observant being, with a good circulation,
knows that human nature is the same the
world over, and that everywhere is the same
mixture of good and evil.
During a month I once passed in a re
mote and sparsely settled country place, I
heard of more immoral actions among the
quiet denizens than I had heard in two years
in the largest city of America. Yet should
one take the trouble to select at random, in
the most respectable part of the city, the
same number of human beings, it is wholly
piobable that an equal number of equally
immoral, if less vulgar actions could be re
counted. The whirl and rush of city life seems alike
unconducive to great thoughts and small
gossip, but the morals of people are very
much the same mixture of good and bad iu
all civilized communities.
I think the repression of country life as
often brings latent propensities for evil to
the surface, as the temptations of city life.
One'of our smaller towns has been prolific
in the product of adventurous women, who
have achieved notoriety in the divorce
courts; and it is a curious fact that few of
the ereat adventuresses of the world's his
tory were born or bred in large cities. But,
whether in town or country place, he who
seeks shall find that which he seeks.
AIT EASY THING TO FIND.
The man or woman who sets forth on a
quest of evil is sure to find it. Early in life
I realized that there was more pleasure to be
derived from observing1 good than evil, and
consequently sought and lound it existing
in abundance about me.
It is the crude idea of the youthful mind
that the world is divided into two armies
the good and the bad one clothed in 'dark
ness upon the left, one in garments of light
upon the right, ana in deadly opposition to
each other. As we mix with the world this
illusion vanishes, for we find the two armies
clothed in the same habiliments, mixing
together amicably, and the deadly battles
are fought, silently and out of sight in each
human heart, between right and wrong.
A great native virtue, planted too gener
ously in a human heart and deprived of
careful cultivation, often degenerates into a
rank vice, and the world not infrequently
mistakes a sterile and inactive nature for
one of great chastity and self-denial. The
summer sunlight is beautiful and beneficent,
but it is as prone to produce bugs as butter
flies, weeds as ferns, while the winter sun
produces neither. Yet the summer sunlight
is ot more use to us than winter's chill rays,
despite the bugs -and weeds. A wise gar
dener uproots the one and kills the mischiev
ous insects.
There' is no more godliness in negative
goodness than there is heat in winter sun.
light, which does notjproduce bugs or weeds
simply because it has not power enough to
warm anything into being,, and not from an
inherent objection to weeds or bugs.
Absolute virtue is that which seethes: with
active impulses and is forced by will and
reason into unselfish channels.
A BEAl BAD MAN. ,
The worst man I ever knew had no 'vice.
He attended church and broke no comiiand
ment and indulged in no excesses. Yet he
nagged his wife and 'children to the grave,
and destroyed every flower of pleasure
which sprang up by his hearthstone and
ruined the tender young lives about Ihim
with the unceasing tempers of a household
tyrant and petty demon. j
Disagreeable tempers and uncontrolled
nervous dispositions ruin more homes than
drink or vice. A fault-finding or sarcastic
tongue in a family circle drives more inen
and women to evil than original sin. A
lady said to me once: "I demand good
manners before good morals from my ac
quaintances. Bad morals can be 'hidden,
bad manners cannot."
I think I would demand good motives
first of all, since good morals would of ne
cessity ensue; and he whose motives were
truly good mubt, too, desire not to give
ollense by bad manners, and so all three
virtues would be his.
Were I to select the one good quality
which is most indispensable to me in an in
timate iriend,'I would without hesitation
say sincerity. Nomatter if she be bright,
gitted, refined, amiable and witty, full of
appreciation and affection, yet an insur
mountable wall stands between my heart
and hers if she be not sincere in small mat
ters and in great
"Come and see me soon," I said to a
friend one day, who stepped off a car as I
stepped on.
"Yes, to-morrow or next day," she re
plied. In consequence I stayed indoors during
both days, missing a drive and a luncheon,
which I declined because I felt that my
share in the engagement necessitated my
remaining at home during the specified 48
hours.
She did not come, nor did she send an
apology. She had spoken from the lips
only, and she had supposed my invitation
was a purely polite one, which would be
satisfied with a speedy promise and tardy
I nlfilment But a fine code of honor in these
small matters permits no carelessness of
invitation or reply.
If I say to a "friend in passing, "Come
around and see me to-morrow," it is my
duty to remain at home during that day, or
to send word it obliged to go out We
have no right to say these things on im
pulse, and then waive the responsibility
they incur.
It savors of moral worthlessness and irre
sponsibility, A -WAlfT OP SIKCEEITY.
I once knew a gentleman who was prone
to make cordial speeches to people in whom
he really felt no interest In a public con
veyance one Saturday morning he encount
ered an acquaintance from a neighboring
city, who was journeying to another State
in company with his wife. Now, my friend
had but slight acquaintance with the couple,
and really felt no especial regard for them;
but with an effusive air he smiled, and said:
"1 wish you'were not obliged to hasten on
your way, we should be delighted to have
you stay over Sunday with us." To his
utter amazement the couple-conferred to
gether and accepted his invitation with
thanks.
When he arrived home with his encum
brances he found that his wife had given the
servant a holidayand that the presence of
these almost strangers would utterly spoil
the pleasure of tfie Sunday dinner to which
she had invited a few intimate friends on
the day befortf.
"What oti earth made you ask those
people to come home with you?" cried the
wife in desj&iring tones.
"Because I never dreamed they would ac-
uept, ejtpiauieu iuq uusuouu.
as, too many invitations are given be-
cause the people are not expected to accept I
I wish the expanding minds of children
could be inoculated with the vast import
ance of sincerity in speech andaction I
wish they could be indelibly impressed
with the idea that to make ever so small a
promise, or to give ever so casual an invi
tation for the sake of creating a pleasant
impression upon the recipient, is as repre
hensible as passing spurious com.
Morals are matters requiring several gen
erations to rectify, and human beings grow
more moral in tendency with every century.
The passions of men and women are vast
emotions, which only the Creator and time
can control and improve. The most strictly
educated and carefully trained men and
women sometimes become the most immoral
in after life, and in our search for good,
whether in our own hearts or our neighbors,
we are constantly surprised by stumbling
upon hidden propensities for evil. We are
all working out toward something higher.
But as we go, we might help the growing
generation by teaching it to be sincere above
all things, and strictly accurate in keeping
its word. Ella Wheelee Wilcox.(
CASTLE OP IDE DOUGLASES.
Now tho Property of Sir Hero Dolrymple,
of the Court of Sessions.
October Harper's.
But now, as we tnrn our back on the
Bass, another ruined castle, grander and far
more massive and lofty than Dirleton, fills
the eye. On a lofty jagged cliff that seems
to run out into the sea, and is washed on
three sides by its waters, stands the far
famed castle of Tantallon. Sir Walter's
description of it in,"Marmion," if not the
highest style of poetry, is a wonderfully
correct word-picture. The origin of Tan
tallon Castle, the renowned stronghold of
the Douglases, is unknown. For centuries
it was the great citadel of the family on
the east of Scotland. Its situation was
so remarkable, the struciure so strong, and
the, means of defense so skillful, that it
seemed to defvmilitarv attack. In 1479 the
barony of North Berwick and the castle of
Taatallon having been fortified some time
before by the Earl of Douglas, were given
by (James IV. to the Earl of Angus, the
fanjous "Bell-the-Cat" of Scottish history,
who figures in "Marmion" as the lord of
the place.
In the days of the next earl the castle
stojd a siege by King James V., but the
King was unable to take it. In 1639, how
ever, it was taken by the Covenanters;
thereafter Cromwell's troops besieged it, ana
amra feeble defense it was taken again.
Alput 150 years ago the castle became the
priperty of Sir Hew Dalrymple, Lord Presi
dent of the Court of Session, in whose family
it sill remains.
LUNATICS AND LEGISLATOES.
Onl
of the Unfortunates Thinks There's
Little Difference Between Them.
All iny (Qs.) News.
epresentative iteed, of Putman, was one
of he Legislative Committee sent to inspect
th( asylum. There was a dance on the
nidit the committee spent in the investiga-
tioa, and Mr. Beed took for a partner one
ofihe fair unfortunates, to whom he was
introduced:
JJ'I don't remember having seen you here
babre," said she. "How long have you
bbn in the asylum."
'Oh, I only came down yesterday," said
e gentleman, "as one of the Legislative
mmittee."
"Of course," returned thejadv. "How
upid I am 1 However. I knew von wer
iither an inmate or a member of the Legis
1 ature the moment I looked at vou. But
how was I to know? It is difiicult to tell
which?"
A 6-TEAE-OLD PHILOLOGIST.
A Little Boston Girl Argues Learnedly on
the Use of Words.
Sew York Suu.l
A bright and interesting 6-year-old girl
in Boston has been the cause of a philologi
cal discussion somewhat wider than most
6-year-plds generally arouse. She persists in
using the terms one-th, two-th and three-tb,
instead of first, second and third, and when
her elders try to convince her of her error
she shuts themup with the retort that it is
just as proper to say one-th as to say fourth,
fifth or sixth.
The matter of euphony doesn't seem to
have been considered much in such discus
sion as Boston folk have had on the subject,
and many of them want to know if the child
Is not more right than wrong. They think
our language is not properly ele&r, and that
absurdities are tolerated fiom a conserva
tive notion that it would be harmful to
eradicate them.
TIED TO THE DOOR BELL.
Novel Scheme to Prevent n Youngster From
Wondering Avrny From Home,
Detroit flewis.l
A 5-year-old youngster living of High
street is in the habit of making excursions
down town every time he has an opportunity
of getting out of the house. As his sojourns
are unattended and,as far as his parents are
concerned, unannounced, they have occa
casioned the latter no end of anxiety.
Kecently, however, the young adventur
er's papa hit upon a scheme to check these
undesirable wanderings. One end of a
clothes line about 30 feet in length was
fastened to the front door bell, and the
other end secured about the youngster's
waist, and thus he is allowed to play about
the front yard. If he tries to get away a
ring of the door bell exposes his guilty in
tentions. It's pretty hard on the bell, but
it saves his parents a good deal of anxiety.
ETADING THE MAINE LAW.
Wines nnd Liquors Charged to Hotel Guests
ns Deep Son Baths.
Boston Post.1
I heard a few days ago of an ingenious
device which the proprietor of a hotel in a
seashore resort on the coast of Maine em
ploys to cover up his sale of an. article
which the law prohibits him from serving
to his guests. A Boston gentleman who re
cently left the hostelry, on calling for his
bill was surprised to see a charge for "deep
sea baths."
As the guest had not indulged in this
luxury and could not understand why it
should be charged in the bill if he had, he
inquired of the clerk what this item meant
He was told that it'eovered wines and liq
uors, and in his case it referred to cfaret
wnicn ne naa taKen with his meals.
A Rocky Physiognomy,
Conductor Tickets!
Commuter Say, you've seen my ticket
four times already on this trip.
Csnductor (apologetically) Beg your
rjarrinn linl vnn daa. sip vnn'v A ... .1
r ,." I". ' " j-; tw
mighty hard face to remember. Judfire,
The I
V
AN IRISH-AMERIOAN ROMANCE.
Written for The Pittsburg Dispatch
-BY- ' -
WILLIAM J, FLORENCE.
CHAPTER I.
A BIT OF IEEIiAXD IS AHEBICA.
HE town of Elm
wood used to be a
farming suburb
of New York
City. Now its
boundaries are
obliterated.and it
is a section-of the
city lying be
tween Central
Park and the
" and nearly built
up with fine residences. Between the
times of these two conditions it had a pe
riod of occupation by small gardeners and
others who lived in the humbler kinds of
homes, some of which were mere huts on the
rocks. The grading of the streets left some of
these structures at a conspicuous elevation,
and the artists of the magazines and the
other illustrated periodicals were fond of
sketching these picturesque views. The
poorer shanties were occupied by squatters,
but the next grade better yielded ground
rent, however slight it might be, to the own
ers of the land. Btft there came a point in
the extension of the city's builded limits
when, by means of a city ordinance, these
objects were swept out of existence.
The early moon of an August evening was
shining on Elmwood Hill and was favora
bly lighting it up as a remarkably close re
semblance of a rural scene in Ireland. On
the shelving rock stood two cabins, com
posed of a miscellaneous collection of ma
terials, yet formed into a rude semblance of
cottages. Vines covered some of the lack of
architecture, and the moon was not severe
in exposing the points of ugliness. They
leaned against each other, back to back, as
though for mutual support, each being con
scious of its own structural frailty. A pig
sty was close by, and a pen for goats, while
small patches of garden had been made of
the soil which covered a portion oi the
stone. Up the ledge a stairway led, by
means of an interspersion of rock-hewn and
board-built steps, from the street to the
cabins. TJp this ascent climbed a policeman
in uniform. He had been detailed to serve
notices of ejectment to the inhabitants of
Shantytown, as the neighborhood was
commonly called, and his day's task
had reached fnto the evening, end
ing with this visit to the homes
of the O'Bourkes and the Beggs.
The occasion was, indeed, like that of
an eviction in Ireland. There had been
plenty of warning, however, and when
Phelim O'Rourke, smoking in front of his
door, saw an officer approaching, he knew
the errand before it was delivered. The
visitor simply handed a paper to him and.
delivered a similar one "into the adjacent'
premises'of. the Beggs. O'Bourke put on a
pair of a iron-b"owe"d spectacles, "shrelded the
flame of match with hfs palm, and by the
flickering light slowly read the formal
notice. A learned man in his way wa3
O'Bonrke. He had once taught school in
his native Ireland, and his head was full of
book learning which was of no practical,
value to him in actual utility. He was a
vague dreamer, an inventor of wildly im
practicable theories and altogether a man
entirely unsuited to earn a living in a city
where adaptability is the first element of
personal success. Instead of making and
realizing simple plans for the support of
himself and his wife, he gave his thoughts to
almost it not quite irrational philosophiz
ing. It was different with his son, Donnell
Mickey Beso' Bide With the Witch.
O'Bourke, a handsome young fellow, who
joined him. His hair had the auburn of
Ireland in its close-croppea efforts to be
curly; his face bore the open good humor of
his race: in a peasant costume, instead of
the clothes of a .New Yorker, he would
have looked like a veritable "broth of a
boy;" but his tongue had lost the brogue of
his 'native land, for he had emigrated in
chilShood. Even his father's Irish speech
was put faintly characteristic, as he handed
the document to Donnell, and asked him
what he thought of that
"I, think it is time we quit the shanty and
the rock anyhow," was the spirited reply.
"I'm" earning $12 a week, as a lawyer's
clerk, and in a year I'll be a lawyer my
self. If you can somehow, bring in as
much, fath'er, wo can afford to live in better
quarters."
The one lacking thing to complete the
Irish-American scene agreeably was a pretty
colleen, and she came into it from- the resi
dence of the Beggs. Wide-open gray eyes,
with dark lashes, had Nora Begg, and the
clear white of her cheeks was freckled like
the stipple of an engraved face. She
seemed younger by two or three years than
Donnell, who was 20, and like him she had
been brought across the ocean too early in
life to leave the brogue of Ireland on her
tongue, A modest girl, and a neatly
dressed one, was this New York colleen of
.Elmwood Koct. uiose aweiiers tnere had
she and Donnell been, and closer yet had
their hearts become. When she was told
that the eviction was a certainty, and there
upon Donnell asked her to walk with him,
she blnshed a little, but took his arm, and
itwas evident that their conversation would
relate to the question of a future home.
kEven the abstracted Phelim O'Bourke
vaguely understood that as he watched
them out of sight
While Phelim O'Bourke was still meditat
ing ubon the document his neighbor, Micky
Begg, zig-zagged up the stairway. Micky
was a sad example of intemperance, and he
had just returned from the "berren" of old
Peter McGlathery. As the bottle was
passed around very freely, after old Peter
was put underground, Micky was full to
the back teeth. To show his sobriety he
called upon O'Bourke to see him jump
from the three-legged stool, which stood by
the doorstep, totbe bottoraof the washtub.
He put himself in position and said: "See
me iep, and' then say if I'mdhrunk; Hur
roo!" .
"Areyoucomin'in, Micky?" came in a
nman'a a1.1i. vntun frnm within, fftr TVmr
i
I I HWM.MM a 1UIQ IWW ..w ....., .v j
CK on ELM WOOD HILL
f Mrs. Begg was a helplessly, hopelessly bed-
nuueu invalid.
"Divil a step till O'Bourke sees me Iep
from the tnb to the stool. I can Iep like a
goat, me darnn."1 And giving a spring
in the air, Mickey came down with a thHd,
nearly crushing a goat that was comfortably
sleeping near the cabin door.
"A nice example you are, Micky," said
O'Bourke, solemnly, "to come from a fu
neral as drunk as a piper. Get up, Micky,
here comes the priest"
Sure enough, Father Hanley, who was
returning from old McGlathery's funeral,
came along. Micky had picked himself up,
brushed the mud from his clothes, and pat
himself on the stool before the Father came
up.
"How are you, Phelim?" said the priest
"And the children? Well, I hope, God
bless then!"
"Yes, Father, they are well and hearty,
and can eat as well' as any childer on the
rocks. I Wish yon would spake to Micky,
Father. Be wasn't looking after. To-morrow
morning he has to be up bright and
airly, for we're going to be evicted. Look
at him as drunk as a fiddler."
"Yes," said the priest "I watchedhim
at the funeral. The death of old Mc
Glathery should be a warning to him. That
sinner did not draw a sober breath for many
months. Do 70a hear me, Micky?" said
wnm
A XIFE OF SPLEJDID MI3EKY.
the priest, shaking up his stupid parish
ioner. "Don't you want to buy him, Father?"
replied Micky, "He's as fat as butter."
"He's thinking of selling the pig," said
O'Bourke apologetically. ."It's got to be
made.a. riddance of, and he's drunk enough
to fancy heVbactin Ireland bound for a
faifWithlhe porker." ' JMT
"Listen, Micky," said the priest. "Yon
see how that toper, McGlathery died, did ye
not? What canyon expect to gain by this
constant inebriety? Think of McGlathery's
endmvmanl"
"He'll "roast like pipe clay,'replied
Micky in a maudlin manner, his eyes now
half opened, and tears running down his
cheeks. "And," he continued, "if it wasn't
for the black spot on his belly he'd bring
more'n I'm axin."
"Oh, yon are incorrigible, Micky," said
the priest, as he roared with laughter at his
parishioner's answers.
A shout of laughter was heard, as three
Eretty, bright-faced children came up the
illside, and, with hands filled with wild
flowers, came' running toward the priest,
who received them with a kiss for one, an
embrace for another, and taking the smallest
in his arms held her high in the air till she
laughed with childish glee. They were
O'Bourke's youngsters, and had stayed till,
dark in Central Part, thus getting home by
moonlight
"Well, darlings, J'm glad to see ye this
blessed summer evening. You are all as
pretty as the flowers, andjeflectgreat credit
on yo'ur loving mother, who takes such good
care of vou."
It is something to be remembered, the
fondness the Irish children have for the
priest. The appearance of "the Father" in
an Irish village is" the signal for a general
assembling ot the children, who run toward
the good man, and, climbing around his
legs, with shouts of welcome, nug and kiss
him in token of their love and veneration.
The jocks of Elmwood presented the same
characteristic.
"Bun into the house, my darlings," said
Father Hanley. "I want to speak to Mr.
Begg on a matter of business. Come here,
Micky; you are sober enough to listen to
what I have lo say. Lady Maud Tennison,
from the big house at Kilrona. where you
came from, has written me a letter. She
was very fond of your Nora before you
emigrated. She has" lost her own daughter
since then, and she writes that she constantly
thinks of her dead pet's foster sister, Nora."
"Yes, Father," said Micky, now perfectly
sober from bis short nap, "her ladyship was
always fond of Nora, and Nora seemed quite
taken wid her, too. She is a true, good
lady, and a Christian woman. Sure, didn't
she put a beautiful stone over the corpse of
ouiu aroiaa in xLiirona -aooey, at ner own
expense, the darlin', and ain't she loved by
the poor people from one end of Loch Der
mid to the other; God bless her!"
"Listen to me. Micky, it you're sober
enough to comprehend. Lady Maud writes
that she will adopt Nora as her own
daughter, if she can get a complete and legal
release from her parents. I suppose it's
Oonah that I must see about it"
"Yes, ver reverence. It's the mother that
decides."
"Is she able to see me?"
"Please come in and try."
The priest entered the cabin, and found
the bed-ridden Oonah Begg lying awake on
her couch. She was feeble with an incura
ble malady, which had been originally
caused by a street railway accident a year
before, and which was sure to result in her
death at no distant day. He gave her a
priestly blessincr. and then delivered his
errand very gently and considerately, for
.he knew that no true mother could at onee
tolerate the suggestion of giving away her
daughter. When he had at length read the
letter to her, and she fully comprehended it
she cried: ''O, I couldn't do it, Father. I
couldn't it would kill me."
"It is a pity it isn't Dolf that somebody
wants." the priest exclaimed, "and not the
daughter that is a comfort to you."
"Don't say one word, if ye plase, against
me boy. May be he isn't what he ought to
be, but lam in hopes he will come around
right in time."
"Well, I hope so," and the priest in
dulged, in the frankness of advice common
to his profession in dealing with the poor
and Ignorant of .their parishest "but he'll
have to mend a' deal to become a good boy.
I see him too much with the toughs and the
gangs. But there donf cry, Oonah.
We'll trr in -rnfnvm TVilf. amA m . V..M
think the matter over. BemeraVer. she will
receive a good education, aid become a
rauul lad,. Won't that hr a tiifailhs,1
you, &r yesrknow ttftryoa v't l
remain with Iter. Tkiak it 0Ter,,0asVr&
father Hraley omsmxI IrM Ms
to fiad PiMfta O'BMriM ad MUfcy
engaged in a- dialogue in wHek tlw 1
all being dose by rhtim. xbm
anderratie man' was dtteMTMas; pwy
ssbjeet whMi, so e w wiuag.Mi
elucidated in a sneeek the previa
lBjr DOiere toe &nnc jvibw. j.mw n
. . il.'t" - irl.. nu4 !..-- .
body waioh met itftfce muc mow Of s-
loos, and was composed of a mm att
irrational theorists, each, qm of whos
seated to listen to the walialiti1
rest for the sake of betar hoard ytfcsX
when Ma tars same. Thev wew'iotls
murhlv at variinee with- all
things that they wold't mH 1
saae of their club in aeerdoB w;l
dictionary, and at tinm they took:j
IbzUbz resolutions direetios hovj
fairs of the universe ought to Mt
Phelia O'Bourke was about the
them alL In the address that M 1
ered, and about which he was
the befuddled Mieky.he faftdj
thesrr which, even to hi
seemed singular laoeea. -is wpj
so interested that they had mhIhM '
convivial funationof theeluk. XMsrl
glasses had bees empty fer a WKHt 1
hnrir before he 'finished. Vat; wm M
elusion. the mugs were qaMdy fttWi
the overtopping foasa ran. dew ti
in the table.
"Here is to the hojjt," said mm, '
Mr. O'Beurke's theory say Mr ftt 1
on O'Koarke's sell." That was
nnixT Iasfhter. so O'Bourke
his aeeouBt to his neighbor; aatiis
clared that he had impressed Ms I
members lsanteBsety. -"You've
brains enough aad te
Phelim." said the priest, after 1
enough of the cOHolBdiDe narrative '
derstaad that O'Boarke was Ml
new. stransre aad imn?aetieM
his own layeatioB- "Why; is
your eaaeauon seatiDty, as yew
neii oeosr xte u. oe a
i5
&i
onejday. for he's strengthen intr hist!
good work, while you're dulttig
witn yourphiioBop&ieairubbisiu"
While the priest was speaking Half
came up t&e stairway, gave to
none too respeoti'al 'good ev
siese&ed late his huaote'
netaa Hl-leekiaf Wkrw,
Depraved bod habits aad a.:
uon. UJte teree men eoaversod a
utes about the impending evietiaa.
they were startled by an outcry, li
feeble yet shrill voiee of Ooaah
they hurried into her cabin to find
was the matter with her. She lay
eyes closed and exhaustion ex
thin, wan faee. Dolf Beev, hr
son, sat in a ohair tipped book
vail witli !.! Mm. t.lAA WM
crossed stiffly over tee other, aad Ms
lag brows so lowered aver hi eye
half their evil light was TittWe.
"What is it?" Father HmIos-
ing a.seaton the edge of teethed.
And So They Were Married.
ing one of the invalid's bands. "Km shi
bov been doing anything to you? ?
"That's Tight!" Dolf exelalaed "Asl
her don't ask me. Of coarse ahe'tf tj
you the truth, and I won't" Z
"Did he strike you?" the priest aehod,!
seeing a reu mars; on me wosaan s wnec, M
though she had warded off a. blow. vi
"He didn't strike me." she n
"He tried to rob me. He ksewaiy haafcestj
aouars naa oeen drawn lroas Ike s
bank that I had it here under jaei
T A li .,- !. . . -
iia part av wnai we railroad Jems SjMCl
me ler uao ucciuem, aaa now we Ve ffetil
us it fer the hirin' of a plaee to Kva'Ji
When he thought I was fast aslape he
in on tip-toe. and feels fer it Bat I -on
awake, and I scramed with all say Tnich.?'"'!
which wasn't much. I'm sorry to tail it o(
him, but sure, the priest ought to knew
And I had to call fer hilp, hr ho'd'i
stolen me money."
The priest patted the womaa's had, MfLj
earn sooiaingjy; a.1 ever nsiael k BteTerJ
mind it." jsut turning to the yeasg bhm,v
us auuresseu mm witn bitter eapMsHtK
"Dolf, I knew you were a brute; MMi
came to be so I don't know, for yer dytag-g
uiuiuer iicxb u a gooa woman, aad yseg 4
father's one fault is the drink. rjivi'
Known ot you striking youcpoor, halslssgl
isomer, ana tnsi ootn leroeieM &MI
cowardly. How you've tareed ibm
most contemptible thief for you'd stoats
me very money mat she received ia mov
mo.. fn1.. ISA. Tt-TS J-!-- V S
You'll come to sose had end if yes. doat
rejorra yourseii.
Dolf said nothinz. but snllenl-i-i
his arms, unerossed his legs, picked m hfc t
hat and slouched out of the oabta. 3t)j
stamped down the stairs to the strep, saSj
-. . j vn
uem nit steps toward ma grogsjory w
his gang congregated, bound to get etrw.
whistcy could be obtained without atoftor.fr
Micky Begg waa sober by this state, oad
uis cuauuui&ry ssiwufla ror ni who :
fested itself in the exolamattoeL.
atni!
thrash the devil out of hiia that's what 1
do."
"Don't'do that" Oonah said. "Lavi
to Father Hanley. May be he'll be
when 1 mdesd, and do better." 8he i
her eyes and was silent for a miaste;
she said with a sad xsaile: "There's 1
ant news. Anvhew. it nlsnis.r '
The doctor was here. He said 1 1
. -Z T-T-
live longer than six. asoBtfcs at the .
There, Mieky, dea'tbesony. At It
liiiHHr'r7V 'atsslst .1 $m
.s? 11 rr ! -m 1 I, Iff Aj t
ts.
1
WMgLgHMllii8WWil3g