Kggi&i
mm
m
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Kern
'.SOPHIA
A DAUGHTER OF THE SLAVS.
A KUSSO-AMEEICAtf ROMANCE.
Written for The Pittsburg Dispatch
-BY-
HENRY HARLAND
I.
CUBIOSITT.
If September, 1882,1
came bacK to New
York from a fivc
years'res'tdence as an
art student in Paris,
and toot a studio,
AKCHIKEKHlSttit
HTfWSVlOTJIlT l!Hl"s
with living rooms at
tached, in StMark's
-ta
place.
The house, which
had formerly been a
private dwelling,
was owned, and the
three lower floors were occupied, by an old
frenchman named Archimede Muselle. A
large sign under the drawing room window
read as follows, in letters of gold upon a
""AhcHIMEuE MOSELLE.
EXTERMINATOR OF INSECTS.
I chanced to be passing through St.
Mark's place one dav shortly after my ar
rival here, when that sign caught my atten
tion. It struck me as delightful. Exter
minator of insects! In its ingenuous in
congruity, its fearless blending of the terri
ble with the minute, it seemed not only in
trinsically pleasant, but very agreeably and
characteristically Gallic I halted and
stood still before it, rapt in contemplation,
wondering the while what ?ort of personage
this exterminator might be. My imagina
tion pictured a rolly-polly little fellow,
XVench to his finger-tips, with a glossy bald
pate, a blandlv benevolent countenance, an
cllusive manner, auu mm uui.1, .... -,
black mustache, waxed and curled upward
at the ends, un Roland furieux, mais bien
petit, as Grinchette is described in the play.
Anvbow, he would be, like his ensign,
anti-climacteric; a droll mixture of ferocity
and mildness, of the bellicose and the bour
geois; breathing simultaneously fire, venge
ance, and a gentle odor of soupe-aux-choux.
I almost wished I had some insects to offer
up lor extermination, so that I might make
an excuse for paying him a visit and scrap
ing an acquaintance. In default of any, I
was at the point of moving off and continu
ing my journey, when I happened to ob
serve another and smaller sign, suspended
below the big one, advertising a "Studio
Apartment to Let"
A studio-apartment! The very thing that
I was hunting for.
I climbed the steps, rang the bell, and
told the young man who opened to me that
I should like to look at the studio-apartment.
II.
THE ESTEB3IINAT0B.
The young man he was in his shirt
voune man he was in his
sleeves; he emitted an aroma that trans
ported me in iancy to Marseilles; and he
spoke like a Frenchman who had picked
up his English on the Bowery the young
man said, ""Walk into de awffus and set
down; I go call de bosse."
"The boss?" I queried. "That is Mr.
Muselle?"
' The nffipB into which he ushered me was a
section partitioned off from what had of old
time been the drawing room of the house.
A large desk stood between the windows
and behind sat a snub-nosed young lady
with ruddy hair, writing in a huge leather
bound account book. I took possession of
neof the half-dozen chairs that were ranged
long the wall, and waited patiently for the
txterminator to materialize. ,
I did not have to wait very long; and
then, of course, I saw that he corresponded
in no particular with my preconception,
being neither rolly-polly, nor bland of coun
tenance, nor fiercely mustachioed. But I
saw also and instantly that he was a vast im
provement upon it. He looked precisely as
though he had stepped out of a French
vaudeville. Indeed, if an accurate portrait
of him had been shown to me beforehand, I
could never have believed that it repre
sented a real man in real life. I should
have taken for granted that it was either a
fancy sketch or a caricature, or a bit from
the theater.
He was tall, spare, erect, and manifestly
very old. He had the face, and especially
the hands, of a very old man. His hands
were emaciated and discolored upon the
backs with freckles and large yellowish
blotches, as hands hardly ever are until old
age comes on; and the skin hung loosely
from the bones, and the veins stood out
dark and wiry, and the nnger-nails were
parched and "corrugated, in a way that sig
nified unmistakably advanced old age. His
cheeks were sunken: his hollow eyes were
framed in by a network of wrinkles; from
each side of his jaw, and beneath his sharp,
prominent chin, the mottled skin sagged
downward and formed a dewlap over his
Adam's apple. Tes, he was manifestly very
old; at a charitable guess, say 75. And yet,
by the employment of sundry ready-enough
devices, he had contrived to turn himself
into a most grotesque simulacrum of young
ishness. He wore a wig ot abundant curl
ing hair, in color that dead, dry, reddish
browa which one never sees except in wigs.
His cavernous old cheeks were painted car
mine. His wrinkles were halt filled
up with powder. He was dressed
in the latest and most youthful
fashion, wearing a natty cutaway coat, a
white linen waistcoat, a tower-like standing
collar, a modish blue crarat and trousers
that had been carefully creased in a straight
line down the front. To give his toilet the
finishing touch, he had loaded himself with
as much jewelry as there was room for on
his person. His scrawny fingers glit
tered with rings, set with diamonds,
rubies, emeralds and sapphires; his
cuffs, pulled down well over his
wrists, were fastened with buttons of
amethyst; a massive gold watch chain, with
dependencies of charms and lockets,
stretched from pocket to pocket across his
rtomach, and a monstrous solitaire flashed
from his cravat pin. To be sure, all this
was very uncanny and repulsive in a way;
out it was so extraordinary, too, that, taken
in connection with the gentleman's extra
ordinary calling, it only intensified my pre
vious curiositv about him. Besides, the
gleam in uis bleary old eye was not unami
oble. He marched briskly into the room, and
after a brief glance at me, and a polite bow,
began in rathera piping treble voice: "Good
morning, sair. You weesh to look at ze ap
partament? Will you tekze trouble to walk
up-stairs?"
I don't know what I had expected him to
say, but I was disappointed at what he did
say a matter-of-fact and business-like in
quiry, with nothing more than a foreign ac
cent to lend it oddity. That seemed scarcely
worthy of his get-up.
But, "Yes," I admitted, "I should like to
look at the apartment"
' And I followed him up two flights of
stairs.
The apartment comprised the whole of
the third story of the house. There was a
nod-sized front room, 20 feet in depth by
25 in width, lighted by a large window fac
ing north; and behind that, a bedroom, a
lath-room and a sitting-room completed the
suite The front room, or studio, was well
colored in neutral tints, and the other rooms
9EorpIsaiiUv prepared.
Wfaitfa the teat?" I asked.
SStt d
f Ujl
v 13'
444 nuMBLMl
- mm
M
PjlDLOYHA EGZPDT,
(SIDNEY LUSKA)
"Eh, sat depend of 'owyou tek." the Ex
terminator replied, with that cockney-like
contempt for aspirates which distinguishes
his nation. "Eef you tek by the mawns,
feefty dollars a mawns. Eef youtek by the
year, five hawndred for the year."
This, which would have been dear enough
in Pans or in London, for Iiew ikk was
cheap. Iliad already looked at several
studio apartments,b at the only ones that were
tolerably spacious and comfortable, and at
the same time conveniently situated, were
simply exorbitant in price. St Mark's
place was accessible enough; and the quar
ter, if not fashionable, was picturesque, and
my landlord woula. I venturesomely sur
mised, prove to be rather a host in himself;
so "Very well; I'll take the place for a
year," I said.
"Aw right; that's aw right," he returned.
"And for reference 7 You refair me to
"Reference?" I repeated. I wa9 not
aware that in New York a would-be tenant,
like a would-be housemaid, must establish
a "character." Therefore, "Reference?" I
repeated. "How do you mean?"
"Yes; sawmbody who knows you, to say
if you are respectable and responsible," he
explained with unflinching candor.
"Why, do I look suspicious?" I de
manded. He scrutinized me carefully before he
committed himself to an answer. Then,
"No, sair; you do not. Yon look aw right,"
he vouchsafed reassuringly. "But it is my
custom, halways w'en I rent au apartment
to hask and geeve references. I geeve you
20 w'en we return downstairs."
"Oh, I see. It is the custom. Oh, very
well. I refer you to my cousin,
Mr. Eliot Morgan, of the firm of
Morgan, Wynn & Co., bankers down in
"Wall street Is that sufficient?" You see
I rather fancied that the name of so eminent
a financier as Eliot Morgan, pronounced by
me with cousinly familiarity, would per
haps a little daunt my uncontiding friend.
But I deceived myself. "Aw right," was
the exterminator's self-possessed reply. "I
go see Mr. Morgan to-morrow morning.
And if he say vou are aw right, the apart
ment is yours."
We went back to his office, and there he
handed me a circular advertising his busi
ness as an exterminator of insects. "I un
dertake, by the particular job or on yearly
contract, to exterminate all varieties of in
sects, from your furniture, your -clothing,
your furs, your house. Moths a specialty.
Also, for sale, in pound, half pound and
quarter pound packages, or in quantity,
Muselle's Magic Insecticide, positively
guaranteed as the best insect powder in the
universe. I refer by permission to the fol
lowing well-known citizens." In number
some thirty.
"Those ladies and gentlemen are my
clients," he informed me. "I refer you to
henny or hall of them."
Just as I was leaving, it occurred to me to
ask, "Oh, by the by, are there any other ar
tists in the house?"
"There is a young lady hartist on the floor
above you the top floor. She is a female
hartist, you onderstand. Her name is Mees
Wait; if I pronounce it, you will not
know how to spell it; if I spell it, youwill
not know how it is pronounced. I write it
for you."
He procured a pencil and a scrap of paper
from his bookkeeper and wrote in a stiff old
fashioned French hand, "Miss Sophie Pau
lovna Eczardy."
"You know hair?" he questioned.
"No; I don't know her. It is an odd name.
How'Should it be pronounced?"
"Well, jus' for tun, you tell me how you
think."
"WelL not as it's spelled, of course. Not
f Ecz-ardy?"
"Oh, nun-nun-no. Hit is a 'ungarian
name, and they pronounce it juslike it was
theletters Haich-ar-dee Haich-ardy. Ain't
that fonny?"
"Very. And who are they?"
"The'yonng lady and her fazair. 'E is
one Dr. Eczardy. 'E is an eenvaleed. 'E
die of cawnsomption, you onderstaud. His
name is Paul Eczardy, wiz anuzzer name in
the middle w'ich finishes in itch, too long
to remember."
"And his daughter is an artist?" What
does she paint?"
"Oh, anysing you weesh. She paint you
a miniature on Hivory. She mek you a
beeg hoil painting. She tek you aleetel
photograph and draw you from it a picture
in crayon any size you like. Hall kinds of
hart"
"Ah, yes, I see. You pays your money
and you takes your choice?"
"Yes," assented the exterminator grave
ly, "that is it exactly."
And whatever interest he had aroused in
me concerning my future neighbor evapor
ated on the spot
in.
THE XIHIMST.
A fortnight later found me established,
with my household gods and painting tools
around me, at Monsieur Muselle's, and on
the best of terms with my landlord, who, by
the way, had turned out to be a perfectly
ordinary, good-natured and simple-minded
French bourgeois, with no other noticeable
idiosyncrasy than that childish vanity
which impelled him to make a guy of him
self in outward appearance, but which
manifested itself in nothing else.
On the day when I took possession, and
while I was' busy unpacking and putting
things in order, the old gentleman came to
par me a little visit
"Well, it go aw right?" he began by in
quiring. "Yes, thank you, it seems to go pretty
well." was my reply.
Alter which for a little neither of us
spoke. I continued my labor. He stood
still, just within my threshold, and beamed
upon me with abenign, though rather vague
and irrelevant, smile.
By and by, "There it moch curiosity
about you opstairs," he announced, making
his tone and his physiognomy confidential,
and pointing with a bejeweled finger to the
ceiling.
"Indeed? "What do they want to know?"
I questioned,
"Well, she 'ave hask me I guess mebby
twenty-live questions, all about you. Your
name, 'ow hold are you, 'ow you look, w'ere
you come from, who u your family, w'at
you pent, everysing."
'"And'yoa what have you told her?"
"En, w'at do IknoVtoteU? I tell her
Un J I v&
The Exterminator Exhibit Hit Miniature.
THE
your nameis Mr. Eliot; and you 'ave the air
to be mebbe 26 years hold, good enough
looking young feller for the rest; and yott
come from Paris, were you 'ave made your
stodics: and you got a brozer-in-lav, rich
benker, whose name is Meestair Morguean.
That is all I can tell her, because that is all
I know."
"I'm sure I feel greatly flattered by her
interest in me," I said,
"Yes, it is real nice," Muselle agreed.
"The ole man, her fazair," he went on after
a moment's pause, "he is a funny ole feller.
'E die of cawnsomption.you know."
"So vou told me the oiler day. Do they
think it's funny?"
"Ah, that is not w'at I have meant I
mean he is funny in uzzair ways."
"Aha? For example?"
"Well, for example well, 'e is a well,
'e is w'at you call in Eenglis liberal."
"Liberal, is he? Then he is rich?"
"Oh, no; you do not understand. I mean
in the politic 'E is Liberal, Radical, Com
munist In Rossia 'e 'ave been in prison
five, six, I do not know 'ow many years, for a
revolutionist"
"Really! A live Nihilist! But but I
tboueht you said he was Hungarian."
"The name, Eczardy, is 'Ungarian; yes,
you right. Bot the ole feller, 'e is Rossian.
His family 'ave reside in Rossia sinoe two
hawndred year. Jus' like mebbe you know
Eenglisman named Beauchamp, or uzzair
French name, yet 'e is Eenglis all the same.
'E is Rossian gentleman, wiz 'Uhgarian
name, that's all. Well, as I tell you, 'e is
a revolutionist; and he get found bout in a
plot; and they arrest him and lock him up
for five or six years in solitar' confinement,
all alone, waiting till they try him; and zen
they tek .him before the magistrate, General
Ogaref, who decide he is guilty, and con
demn him to Siberia for life. Bot he escape
from Siberia, and come to this cawntry,
w'ere 'e die. You see, he catch the cawn
somption w'ile he is lock up in prison five,
six years. Two years already 'e has leeve
here in my 'ousedying aw the time."
"He must be a remarkable man. Is he
meetable? I should like to know him."
"If you 'ave come two, free, weeks be
fore, yes, yon can meet him. Bot since two,
t'ree,"weeks 'e is moch worse than he have
been formerly, and 'e see no one excep' the
doctor." After a little pause he added
blithely: "He never be better again, I
guess."
"It's rather sad for his daughter," I sug
gested. "Yes, you right; hit is. She 'ave to
work to gain their life, and at the same
time she must be his norse. Yes, it is hard
for her, no mistek. She get tired hout."
"Is her only means of livelihood her
painting?"
'Yes, that's aw. She mek beeg crayon
drawings for photgraphers, and she pent
miniatures and hoil paintings. I get her to
pent a mimatnie of myself on hivory. She
pent beautiful, no use talbing W'at you
think ot this?"
He unbuttoned his coat, and extracted
from its inner pocket an oval case in red
morocco. Openine it, he submitted for my
inspection the miniature in question.
"Eh, w'at you think of that?" he re
peated. I was surprised to find that it was an ex
ceedingly clever piece ol painting. Instead
of the conventional product of the miniature
maker that I had expected, I beheld the
handiwork of an able and painstaking
artist Well drawn, well modeled, well
handled in respect of color, it presented the
exterminator to the life. His wig, his pow
der, his rouge, his jewelry, his foppish cos
tume, and behind them all, like a skull be
hind a mask, his crenuine olu age, were re
flected as truthfully and as pitilessly as in a
looking-glass. It was justice untempered
by mercy; and it was extremely good.
""Why, this is capital," I exclaimed.
"She has real talent What a shame that
she should waste herself on miniatures, and
working for photographers!"
"Yes, it is beautiful; it is very fine,"
acqnissced Muselle, grinning complacently.
"Bot if she work lor photographers, you
know, hit is because, as we say in France, il
faut vivre, one must live. What would
you 'ave? She mek no money if she don't."
'TTes, yes, I understand. But the woman
who painted that has it in her to do things
that would really be worth while. Does
she never attempt anything better?"
"If you come downstairs wiz ue," re
turned the exterminator, "I show you a
beeg picture which she pent, and which I
tek one time in place of the rent-money
they howed me. It is magnificent; it is
superb. You come, yes?"
"Why, yes; by all means," said L
And thinking in my soul that a landlord
who would take paintings in lieu of rent
monev was a most convenient sort of land
lord for painters to put up with, I followed
him downstairs. He led me into a back
room on the second story, which was fur
nished as a bedroom; and there, having
closed the door and thrown open the blinds,
"This is my 'ome," he announced; "and
here is the picture."
He had described it as a big picture; and
big it scarcely was. But in point of artistic
merit it far surpassed what I had come pre
pared for, even though the specimen of her
work which he had shown me above stairs
had been so good. Its dimensions were per
haps 2 feet by 18 inches; and it represented
the interior ot a dungeon, or prison cell.
An oblong window, too high up to be reached
without a ladder, too uarrow to permit the
passage through it of a human body, and
lurtber protected by stout iron bars, ad
mitted daylight, and framed in a patch of
slaty, wintry sky. For the rest there were
bare stone walls, a stone ceiling, and a stone
floor; while a broad stone slab, so con
structed that it formed a part of the solid
masonry of the wall from which it projected,
was the'only piece of furniture in evidence,
and manifestly answered at once for bed,
stool, and table. So much for the accesso
ries. They were rendered in a spirit of ex
act, almost photographic, realism; and the
effect of massiveness, remoteness, and gloom,
proper to the subject, was vividly conveyed.
And now the interest of the composition
centered in the figure of an old man, seated
upon the broad stone bench, with his
elbows resting on his knees, his fingers
bnned in his long white beard, and his eves
fixed intently, vacantly, painfully straight
before him. There was something so irre
sistibly pathetic in that old man's face and
figure, that I, who had come to criticise, felt
myselt instantly penetrated by an emotion of
distress and sympathy, as if I were looking
upon a veritable human being, and npt upon
a mere effigy in paint and canvas. His lace
was terribly emaciated; the cheek bones and
the bridge' of his nose seemed to be almost
starting through the skin. His hair and
beard were long and white, and uncombed
and untrimmed. His skin had that clayey,
ghastly pallor which results from long se
clusion from fresh air and sunshine. His
clothes were old and worn, and they hung
baggily about his limbs, as if hehad shrunk
up within them. His attitude, limp and
bent over and huddled together, breathed 'a'
broken spirit in every line; and his eyes, in
-t
PITTSBURG - DISPATOH--
their, fixed purposeless stare, expressed the
despair and the hopelessness and the deep,
dull pain that consumed hbi heart, far more
movingly than words ever could have done.
In examining this picture you quite forgot
to think of the artist's technique, which,
however, vtas excellent. Indeed, if the draw
ing, coloring and modeling had not been
very good, no such final emotional effect
could have been obtained.
"Well," demanded the exterminator, who
stood at my elbow, " 'ow you like it, eh?"
"Oh," I said, "it is very strong. Very
powertul and imaginative and moving. But
how did she come to choose such a painful
subject? And who was her model? Where
did she ever find such an awfully broken
down old man?"
"Eh, for the subjeo she pent w'at interest
her, I suppose. The model, 'e was the ole
man himself."
"What old man? Where did she find
him? It's a wonderful face like the wreck
of a face that had once been strong, intel
lectual, almost beautiful."
"W'y, don't I tell you, it was her ole
man, her fazair; Dr. Eczardy, who leeve op-'
stairs."
"What!" I gasped. "Her father? Her
own father?"
"Yes. It represent him in the prison in
Rossia, w'ere they keep him five, six years,
waiting to be tried, and w'ere 'e catch the
cawnsumption. You see, it was pretty
hard, staying all alone there, in solitar'
confinement, one, two, free, four, five, six
years. 'E pretty near go crazy."
"Hard I I should think it was. And
you I don't see how you can sleep with
that picture in the room."
"Oh, you get use' to it," he explained,
with a shrug.
"But shel However she could bring her
self to paint it, I don't understand. Her
own father. The subject is horrible enough
in itself. But when it comes to one's own
THE TBAGEDY AT ST. FETERSBTBG.
father! To work over such a thing day after
day.-week alter weekl I don't see how she
could do it. She she must be a young
woman of considerable grit."
"Yes, you right; Bhe his," said Muselle.
"She tole me about that picture! 'Mr. Mu
selle,' she tole me, 'I want to pent a picture
w'ich mek people see 'ow in Rossia they
treat a gentleman who is arrested only as
suspect, and before 'e is tried, to find if 'e is
guilty or hinnocent. 'Ee is only suspect,
waiting to be tried; vet for five years they
keep him all alone there, in solitar' confine
ment like that, till bis 'ealth is destroyed,
his career in the world ruined, his heart
broken, his mind almost gone crazy, and
his family not knowing if 'e is dead or alive,
or in Rossia, or in Siberia', or w'at, or w'ere,
or anysing about him.' She tole me that,
to explain w'y she pent him that way."
IV.
LISTENING. .
One afternoon a week or so later, while I
was at work washing' my brushes in my
studio, somebody began to sing in the room
above. The voice was feminine, a deep and
sweet contralto; and I took ior granted that
the singer must be Miss Eczardy. I listened
with'a good deal of interest as well as a good
deal of pleasure; for, beside that the voice
was in itself agreeable, the song she sang
seemedtome to be very curious as well as
very pretty. Though the words, of course,
were quite indistinguishable, I guessed that
it was a Russian song, perhaps a folk song.
It had much of that savage impetuosity of
rhythm, and that almost barbaric brilliancy
of color, which we feel in some of the com
positions of Rubinstein. It was swift, mer
ry, jubilant even, in, its movement; yet a
prolonged minor wail seemed to run all
through it, giving a secondary effect of sor
row. Here and there would occur a re
Eetend, consisting of a succession of tense
lgh'notes; every new departure and varia
tion of the tune always finished by bringing
up at this same repetend; the' influence
ot it upon the hearer was very strange.
It sounded like hilarious laughter, yet at
the same time it sounded like wild, pas
sionate sobbing; and it moved the hearer at
once to pain and to pleasure, in a way that
was very strange. Gradually, as I listened,
the rhythm appeared to become more regular.
the eccentricity of the melody to moderate a
little. "It begins," I thought, "to resemble
something that I have heard before. Wnat?
Ah, I remember; it Is a good deal like that
song of Carmen's, whereby poor Don Jose
is made to lose his heart to her. There is
the same effective use of the chromatic
scale. She does it beautifully; I should
imnensely like to see her. I can fancy the
way her eye flashes, the way her cheek
flushes. She must be pretty. No woman
could sing with so mush fire and spirit
unless she were pretty. Hello, what is
this?" The floor over "my heaa begun to
vibrate to the measure of a dance; the
singer had begun to dance in time to her
music. It struck me all at once that this
was a little singular. Could Miss Eczardy
not only sing but dance with her father ill
unto death in the next, or for all I knew in
the same, room? I was pondering this enigma
in my mind, when somebody rapped upon
my door.
"Come in," I called.
The exterminator entered. He entered
on tiptoe, as if fearful of making the least
noise; and with his finger raised, bis lips
purseu, and his brows knitted, as if to en
join silence upon me as well. I looked up,
puzzled, and waited for him to vouchsafe
an explanation.
He advanced very close to me, when,
bending forward and protecting his mouth
with the open palm ol.his band, he demand
ed in a whispert "Eh, you hear that?"
'Yes, I bear it," I confessed.
"Well, the ole feller you know, the ole
feller, her fazair?"
"Yes? Well? What about him?"
"Well, he feel better. Ca va mieux. You
'olKlerstana?"
"Ah, that's it, is it ?'I exclaimed. "Dr'.
Sophia at the Hestaurant.
t ' tU.j,ill TOME !.&
StTlsTDAT, -OCTOBERS 13
Eczardy feels better, and his daughter cele
brates the imp'rovement with a song and
dance."
"Yes, that's it She sing and dance for
him, and that show he feel better. W'en
ever 'e feel pretty good, halways 'e mek her
to sing and dance. He like it"
"Well he may. She has a Bweet Voice,
and she sings with spirit"
""Yes. you right; she sing first class. Bot
rou hought to see her dance. She dance I
Eh, I never seen anybody dance like her.
It is magnificent I go opatairs now to
congratulate them because 'e feel better,
you onderstand. Then mebbe they hask
me to walk inside and met a visit. Then
mebbe she go hon to dance, and I set there
and see her. It is as good as a theater. It
is wors 53. Well, goo'bye."
And waving his bediainonded old claw at
me, he accomplished his exit I felt as
though I should not at all object to follow
ing him. i. was beginning to be mightily
interested in Miss Eczardy; and I am sure I
should have surpassed the exterminator
himself in appreciation of her dancing if I,
too, had been permitted to witness it
GUESSING,
I dined that evening at a little Italian
restaurant, around the corner from Monsieur
Muselle's in Second avenue, where very
edible dinners were served for very reason
able prices. While I was discussing my
maccaroni there an incident befell which
struck meas both interesting and suggestive.
A young lady entered from the street, carry
ing a basket, a small and rather pretty
basket, woven of bright green and red
straw. She was manifestly not a stranger
in the place, for, immediately upon her en
trance, one of the waiters stepped forward
to meet her, and, taking her basket from
her, he handed her a bill of fare. This doc
ument she studied for a minute; then spoke
to the waiter, as if giving him an order. He
went off, bearing her basket with him; and
during his absence she stood near the pav
desk and chatted with the proprietor's
wife, Mrs. Maraschini, who sat in
state behind it Presently the waiter
came back, and restored her basket to her,
now manitestly heavier than when she had
parted with it; and having settled her score
and given the waiter his gratuity, Bhe re
turned into the street This episode, I say,
struck me as both interesting and sug
gestive. Interesting, because the young
lady who sustained the chief role in it was
very far from commonplace in her appear
ance. Of all known types of feminine
beauty that which I personally admire the
most is the Titianesque: the woman, who is
of large and generous mold, yet softly
rounded; with a small head set upon a full
and graceful neck; a white skin just trans
parent enough to be warm in the cheeks; and
to crown all, golden-brown eyes and golden
reddish hair. And of this type I had never
seen a nobler specimen than this young per
son of whom, for some three minutes, I had
been suffered to gaze my fill, to-night in
Maraschini's.
"If ever I am to fall in love," I said to
myself, "it will be with a woman of that
sort. This is the sort of woman I have
always longed to paint; a figure tall and
strong, yet rich and supple and womanly;
skin like the flesh of a camellia, yet deli
cately touched with color of 'rose; hair like
a mesh of flames, and eyes that can light up
with laughter, melt witb tenderness or burn
with passion according to her mood. I have
always longed to paint a woman of that sort,
but models are so hard to find, so rare. A
perfect model I have never seen until to
night I wonder who she is."
And wondering who Bhe was, I began to
perceive the suggestiveness'of the episode.
It seemed to me to suggest that my fair un
known must have an invalid relative at
home a father, mother, brother, husband,
unable to leave the house to whom she was
bringing the contents of her basket And
then all at once it flashed across my mind,
"What if she should be Miss Eczardy!
Miss Eczardy come to her father'n dinner!"
I grant you that was an entirely unwar
ranted and far-fetched conjecture; more es
pecially so because this girl's style was
essentially southern and Italian, and Miss
Eczardv was a Russian, but it took posses
sion of my lancy with the tenacity of a
proved fact.
"Yes, I'll lay a wager, that was Mifs
Eczardy come lor her father's dinner. By
Jove.-if that magnificent creature lives un
der the same roof withme ." Cnon that
hypothesis as a corner stone, my imagina
tion proceeded to rear a fair and radiant
castle in the air.
I did not see the exterminator again until
the next afternoon. Meanwhile the musical
entertainment above-stairs had been Te
peated, leaving me to infer that Dr. Ecz
ardy's health was still on the mend. When,
next afternoon, Muselle dropped in to see
me, and after we bad exchanged the or
dinary salutations, "And our invalid up
stairs," I began; "I hope he continues t
to
leei Deuer.
"Oh, yes, e feel pretty good. 'E ave his
hups and his downs, you know; and jus'
now 'e 'ave a hup. 'By and by 'e 'ave a
down again; then mebbe another hup. But
he never get well. 'E die before 12 mawns,
I bet you leefty dollars." ,
"Do they keep house upstairs there? Or
do they go out to their meals, as I do?"
"Yes, she go hout Not him. 'E can't
'E too sick. 'E stay at 'ome, w'ile she go
hout and get his dinner in a basket. Then
she come back, and they heat it together in
kUCli luvyuii.
"What sort of looking person is she?"
"Oh, she pretty good-looking sort. She
aw right about her looks. "
"Yes, bufher style ? Is she dark or fair,
laree or small? Can't you describe her to
me?"
"Well, she pretty beeg. Tall woman, you
onderstand, and fine figure. Then for color
well, I suppose you call her fair; bot she
got red hair. She look like a Meridionale,
it you know w'at that mean."
"A Meridionale? That's odd, consider
ing she's a Russian."
"Yes, you right; ifs hodd. Bot her
mother she came from the south of France.
She was a Frenchwoman. Miss Eczardy
spik French as good as me."
From which conversation it appeared that
my far-fetched conjecture had not been alto
gether mistaken, alter all.
VI.
PAINT HEAET.
A fortnight slipped away. The health of
Dr. Eczardy, as the exterminator kept me
informed, continued to improve. Every
afternoon his daughter sang and danced for
his pleasuring. I conceived a hundred
schemes by which. an acquaintanceship be
tween them and me might be brought to
pass; but I lacked the executive ability to
carry out anyone'oY them. The simplest
scheme of 'all numelr. to ask the extermi.
--e -j- t-a " wi .. -
fs" a' i7y&rPs
Bfl?'T
JLOOtf.
nator to presentme was the least attractive,
I really don't know why. In the end, how
ever, Iresorted to it
"I told you awhile ago that I should very
much like to meet Dr. Eczardy. You said
then that he was too ill to see people. 'But
he is so much better now, that don't you
think-?"
"Well, I tell you w'at I do," my land
lord returned. "I'll hask his daughtair.
I'll request her permission to introduce
you."
"Thank you; that will be very good of
you," I said.
"I'll hask her this afternoon, and let you
know right away."
He left me; but at S o'clock, or there
abouts, in the afternoon he came again.
"See," he began; "she 'ave written her
answer for you to read."
He handedune a visiting card. Upon its
face was engraved "Miss Sophia Paulovna
Eczardy." Upon its obverse, In pencil, was
written: "Miss Eczardy thanks Mr. Eliot
for his kindness in desiring to meet her
father. But Dr. Eczardy is on the eve of
leaving New York; and as he will need all
his strength lor the journey he Is about to
take, Miss Eczardy tears that the excite
ment ot making a new acquaintance might
be bad for him. She regrets, therefore, that
the visit so kindly proposed by Mr. Eliot
must for the present be deferred." I vow to
you that as I held this card in my hand, and
saw her writing on it, and realized that she
had written it for me, I vow to you that,
cold and formal and disappointing as the
message she had written was, mr heart was
ninrttprt hi: n fpplinfr ko litre thp fhi11 nf Iava
that 1 can think of no other name to give it.
next instant, nowever, "wnatl" lex
claimed, turning to the exterminator;
"They are on the eve of leaving New
Yorfcl"
"Oh, nun-nun-no," he quickly reassured
me; "not they. Only him. 'E go to Ber
muda to pass the winter. 'E start on
Wednesday morning. She only tole me to
day, or else I had tole you before."
"Oh, I see," I said, relieved. "He goes
alone. And she--"
"She will remain 'ere. She go hon living
opstairs, alone by herself. Her father leave
her in my charge. I tek good care of her,
don't you be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," I answered. "I think
her father has left her in very trustworthy
hands. But I should think it would be
pretty hard for her to stay on here alone,
with her father away ill, perhaps dying. It
will be rather gloomy for her, won'tit?"
"Eh, w'at will you 'ave? She must stay
here to do her work, and gain their bread.
The doctor 'ave ordered him to go w'ere it is
warmer for the winter; and since she is not
rich enough to go wiz him, re must go alone,
and she must remain alone behind."
"Yes. I understand," I said.
On Wednesday morning I heard a car
riage rattle up to our door and stop there.
Then, looking out of my window, I saw
Miss Eczardy issue from the house, with
her white-haired old father leaning on her
arm. I did not succeed in catching a
glimpse of the old man's face; his back was
toward'me from first to last. All I saw was
his feeble, tottering body, and his long,
white hair, escaping from beneath his hat,
and falling down almost to his shoulders.
The exterminator followed them, bearing
the impedimenta of shawl-straps, bags, etc.
He got into the carriage with them and the
carriage drove awav.
"Well, 'e's hoff a't last," he told me that
evening. "We had a fearful time down at
the steamer, she felt so bad. She cried and
cried, and would not be comforted. Bot at
last the steamer sailed, and 'e was hoff.
Coming back in the carriage she cried hall
the way. She tole me, 'Mr. Moselle,' she
tole me, 'I am sure I will never see my
fazair alive again.' I tole her I bet her
feefty dollars 'e come back aw right Bot
between you and me, I shouldn't wondair
eef 'e d;e down there. 'E's a fearful side
man, no mistek."
On Saturday evening I went to get my
dinner at Maraschini's, that little Italian
ordinary in Second avenue, of which men
tion has been made before. I found the
place crowded to overflowing, as it was
Eretty apt to be on Saturday evening; and
aving looked around in vain for an un
occupied table, I was on the point of going
away, to seek refreshment elsewhere, when
the enterprising wife of the proprietor, ob
serving my predicament, and reluctant to
lose my reckoning, came up and exhorted
me to remain. ' "No place?" she queried.
"Oh, that's all right. I make a place for
you."
She led me into a small back room, prop
erly a sort of ante-chamber to the kitchen,
which served as armory of the stronghold
its walls being lined with dressers, contain
ing pots and pans, spits and skewers, and
such other weapons offensive and defensive
as are required to complete the accoutre
ment of a belted cook but which, on ac
casions like the present, was thrown open to
the public, and there she kept her promise
to make a place for me, by ordering a chair
to be brought, and planting it at oneside of
a tiny table, the opposite side of which was
already in commission.
"Sit there," she bade me. "You'll be all
right"
I obediently seated myself there; but I
A Quiet ileal
did so with a beating heart; for the occu
pant of the other side of the table was Miss
Eczardy.
Well, there we sat facing each other
across that tinr table throughout that long
Italian table d' hots, and ate our respective
dinners in solemn unbroken silence I
wanted desperately to begin a conversation
with her, but I lacked the hardihood to
speak the first word, and of course I could
not expect the first word to come from her.
I thought out a dozen possible maneuvers
by which the ice might be broken and the
conversation started; but when itpame to the
rub of putting anyone of them in operation
my heart failed me, my tongue clove to the
roof of my month. I fancied I had got my
courage quite screwed up to the point of
asking her to pass the vinegar; that, it
seemed to me, would be a natural opening,
and one that might lead to something; but
then, nt the eleventh hour, it occurred to
me that the vinegar cruet stood within easy
reach of my own hand, and that it would
be infinitely ridiculous to impose upon her
the supererogatory of passing it, and so 1
dared not. This was utterly absurd. There
was no reason why we should not chat to
gether. She knew who I was, I knew who
she was. We were members of the same
guild, dwellers under the same root tree; we
had even corresponded together; did I not
hold in my possession one of her visiting
cards, with a note written on it
by her hand for my eyes.
There could have been no earthly
harm or wrong in our speaking to each
other, and making friends. It would have
been unconventional, ii you like, but not
unconventional in any bad sense; and be
sides, isn't uncbnventionality in their mu
tual intercourse the privilege of artists? Yet
there we sat, vis-a-vis, not more than 18
inches from each other; and my childish
timidity tid my tongue, and prevented my
making the first advance.
As time went on, and I saw the moment
drawing nearer and nearer when she would
have finished her dinner and be ready to
Teave the restaurant, my anxiety to speak
.to her waxed more intense; but not so my
courage. I wondered whether, she appro-'
ciated the situation as ,1 did, and .-pere4vd
TiCK'i iBBwiMii" iiiiiiiiuiM
Trf?!
fffi
ray faint-heartednew, and wu laughing at
me in her sleeve. X stole a glance at her
beautiful white face; it was Inscrutable.
Presently she rose from her chair,
put on her mantle, and moved off, into the
other room, into the street.
The chance was gone. Itwas too late now.
Such a chance might never occur again. X
reviled myself with curses not load but
deep.
vn.
ABSENCE.
On Monday morning the post brought me
a letter. It was a letter that'I had been ex--pecting
for a good while: and, other things
equal, it ought to have caused me liveliest
pleasure. It was a letter from Mr. Archi
bald Winthrop, a wealthy citizen of Boston,
inviting me to come and stay at his house,
and paint the portraits of his wife and his
two unmarried daughters. It ought to have
afforded me the liveliest possible satisfac
tion, for it meant a good lot of money, and
it meant also, what was more important,
the first serious step in my career. Yet, as
a matter of tact, it. afforded me no satisfac
tion whatever, but only vexation and reeret
Of course I could not think of saying no to
it; that would be to fly in the face of Prov
idence. But if I said yes to it, I should
have to leave New York, and remain away
for a couple of months at the shortest; and
for reasons which the reader will divine, I
was loth to leave New York even for a seven
night However, like a true American the issue
lying between business on the one hand and
sentiment on the other I cast the choice in
favor of business; and two days later found
me aboard the afternoon express train bound
for Boston. The exterminator and I had
had an affectionate parting; and I had ex
acted from him a promise that he would
write to,me, and let me know "how things
went on." I did not mentionMiss Eczardy'g
name to him; but I felt sure that when he
wrote to me his letter would contain news
of her.
Of my sojourn in Boston, which lasted on
till after New Year's. I will orilysayiwo
words it taught me the truth of the adage
about absence making the heart grow fonder.
I thought so much of Miss Eczardy; her
beautiful pale face was so often visible before
my imagination: I so passionately regretted
the wasted opportunity I had had to make
her acquaintance; I so eagerly looked for
ward to my return to New York, when I
might have another opportunity, I hoped
and believed; that by and by I began to
realize, what seemed very strange, that I
was not simply interested in ber, but that I
was in love with her. Yes, that Iwas in
love, head over ears in love, with a young
woman between whom and myself never a
word bad been exchanged, and who, doubt
less, was scarcely more than half conscious
of my existence.
Meanwhile I waited anxiouslv for the let
ter Muselle had promised to write me. But
days grew into weeks, and weeks were
lengthening into months, and no letter came.
This made me very restive and unhappy. I
tried to comfort myself by repeating the old
commonplace, that no news is good news,
but I discovered that that sort of comfort is
very cofd comfort indeed, Finally, a few
days before Christmas I took the pen in my
own hand and precipitated active operations
by writing to him. I covered three pages
and seven-eights of a fourth page with per
functory tidings about myself and inquiries
about him; then I gave the remaining
eighth of the fourth, page to the genuine
point and purpose of mj epistle. "Do write
to me at once and tell me everything that
has happened in St Mark's place since my
departure. And, by the bye, how are the
Eczardy's? What news from Bermuda of
the doctor's health? And Mademoiselle?
Is she always the same?"
I looked for an immediate answer from
the exterminator; but ten days passed be
fore his answer came. When in the end it
did come but I will copy it below:
"Deae Mb. Eliot Your favor of 22
ultimo to hand, and contents noted. Glad
to hear you get along all right Yes, thank
you, I am ,pretty well, and had very busy
season, wich- commence now to slack up
little. The reason I, didn't write to you be
fore, I hadn't nothing to say. as nothing
had happened. But since your letter was.
re ca. ereai aeai nas nannenea. ur.
Eczardy is, died down therein Bermuda, X
always said he never could get well, and
his body come home on the ship and been
buried, and Miss Eczardy she pack up and
leave New Yorkto go to Russia. All since
I receive vour letter. The steamer from
Bermuda was dne to arrive here on Satur
day morning last wiok, and she expect a
letter by it from her father, when instead
she got word he died down there, and his
cadaver is on board the ship in a box. She
went crazy, and I had to manage the hole
business. We buried him in the cemetery
over on Long Island wile it snowed, and
then she tole me she made up her mind to
leave New York and go to Russia. She
pack up in a hurry, and sail on the boat for
Havre Wednesday morning. She tole me,
now my father is dead I got nothing more
to live for, so I go to Russia and offer my
self to serve the revolution. I strike one
blow in the same time to avenge my father
and help the struggle of Russian liberty,
and then I die. Goodby.
"If you let me know 24 hours before you
come back, I have the rooms cleaned up nice
and fires to warm them. Otherwise every
thing is the same as always. Take good
care of yourself, and believe me, with the
highest esteem, Your devoted,
"A. MUSEIiLE."
I remember what followed as one remem
bers the delirium of a sick bed. I remem
ber reaching Muselle's house and hearing,
viva voce, from his lips a confirmation of
what he had written. Miss Eczardy had
gone to Russia, to St Petersburg. She had
gone, she said, to strike a blow for Russian
liberty, to avenge her father, and to die.
Then I remember many days of great mis
ery, and mental struggle and hesitation;
then I remember that at last I took
a resolution which brought me
something almost like relief. I
remember a long sea voyage across a stormy
wintry ocean; a long railway journey across
France and Germany, and through the for
ests and over the snows of Russia. I remem
ber a great strange city, where the people
spoke an incomprehensible language, and
where itwas night nearly all ot the 24
hours; I remember a big bustling hotel,
where the people spoke French, and where
the gas was kept perpetually burning. I re
member walking the streets of that great
dark city day after day it may have been a
fortnight, it may have been a month. I re
member that as I walked those streets I
peered anxiously into the face of every
woman whom I passed, hoping, hoping.hop
ingthat somewhere among them I might
meet her.. But I remember that all my hope
was embittered by the thought that no hope
could have been more unreasonable, none
more forlorn. Yet I kept on walking the
streets; and clung to my hope in defiance of
reason, as a drowning man clings to a straw.
At last I rememher that one day, as X
stood on the portico of my hotel, X saw a
man go prancing by on horsebaek. He was
dressed in a very magnificent uniform; and
behind him rode two other men, also in uni
form, but less magnificent, manifestly his
aids or attendants. I remember that an
Englishman, who was standing at my side,
turned to me and asked: "Do you know
who that is?"
"No," said I. "Who is he?"
That is General Ogaref."
""General Ogaref? The name sounds fa
miliar. But I can't recall the connection
in which I have heard it."
'Why, he is celebrated for having sent a
greater number of politicals to the gallows
or to Siberia than any other of the Czar's
servitors."
'Ah, yes," I said; "it is in that connec
tion that I have heard his name."
Then it came back to me, causing my
heart to leap and barn, that it was General
Ogaref who had condemned Dr. Eczardy to
his Siberian exile.
That same day, perhaps an hour later, I
was walking upon one of the islands of the
Neva.
.Presently I came upon a great surgiBg,
excited crowd.
"What is the treshfc? Why the awsl?'
Tasked in tfrwwk of a geaUtaaaCat arv"
CimirVt - JEwj-.S", -t . AS
Tk. J i . -:. , .
t yJsAsf im
Si1
"jSW
shot He was rkUatr oet, aeeeapaaieel f.
a coupie oi aids, wnea, jaw aeeve tMre,"
where'the crowd is densest, a young wosma!
prang toward him froa the footpath, Md
nred a bullet straight tbroaga his heart.
Nihilist of course."
".Ahl The young woman who was she?"
"I have not heard her same. I do net
know if the police have learned it"
But she has been amsted, I wwose?
"Why.no. That's just the point Itap.
pears that, having shot the General, be&ra
she could be apprehended, she eaptwd two
Chambers Of her revolvpr lain luw an
breast, and fell down dead." ' ""
The police were bythis time foreie?w
alley-way through the crowd. Byadfer Hi
two policemen marched through tie alley- '
way, carrying a stretcher. Upea shot r 1
stretcher, ghastly in his magnifieeat uP jfe'
form, lay General Ogaref, dead. M
Two more policemen followed, berkg h
second stretcher. : ,
"It is she, it is she, the assassin," mar- ..r
mured the crowd; and there was an eager "
pressing forward to eatch sight of her. ,
Upon this second stretcher, white aad '. i
beautiful and still, lay Sophia Faalevna
Eczardy, dead. i
For many weeks I teased upon, a pallet la
the English- Hospital, beeida myself tea
fever. Then I retaraed to reosoa, aad,
gradually to health. Bat I wished that'I.--had
died. The romanee of say-life wa eve? ii- -I
the tragedy of my life had beea played ""3
the xsv.J Hia '
Copyrighted. 1889. AU rizhta marred.
THE 8M0K15G COMPARTMEfT.i
A Crasade for a Reform oa KaHreafr far
Woman'. Beaeft. rM
BallwiJ-Azs.t
' '
A crusade against the wmoilng compart
ment ot sleeping cars has.it is asserted, beea
inaugurated by Mrs.Erancis Willara.the elo
quent temperance reformer. In an interview
with Mr. George M. Pullman this energetic
lady argued that thesmoking reoBssaeuld be
abolished and special cars provided for users
of the weed,declaring that under the present
arrangement the smoke is blown into the
body of the cars, to the disgust of the fe
male occupants. It is to be admitted that
if the odor of stale tobacco smoke iavaded
a sleeping ear it would not be agreeable to
uiost people, but the smoking rooms of the
modern sleepers are so theraughrydivided off
that it takes a very critical nose la aar other
part of the car to know that the eemaiaWeB
of tobacco is going oa, and it k rare, that
the most fastidious traveler has aayeeo-
plalnt to make oa that score. '
Perhaps something migat be doae by get-
ling me state Xiegisutare or te inter
state Commerce ComraissJoa to prohibit fcW"
smoking of cigarettes and of oigars belawa
cwuia iaue ui reaoeu aaTH.'BWR
practical way would be to give the ladies aa
entirely separate coatpartawat ia. eeh
sleeper, And this would be foaad adraatage
ousin respect to eonsideiatteM a good deal.
more important tbatfthe possibility of-inhaling
an occasional whiff from the seteking
compartment as now arranged.
An entire sleeping car for ladies, te which
no men should be admitted, weald jwefeably
suit Miss Willard and her exeelkat coad
jutors still better, and it sight be well
for them to direct their efforts toward that
result.
CHK050Mm OF THIS FSLAiiS
A Clock That Was Barled la Aretlo IcefW
Foar Tears.
Washington SUr.I ,'
In the desk of Edeoa S. Sraee, chief clerk
ot the Bareaa of Eqnipaeat aad Eeeraitisg
in the Navy Depertssaat, k a little raeweed
case, bound aad inlaid with brass aad
bronze. Itisia the form of a cube, aboat
18 inches high, and containing a ohrgnoae
ter such as is used oa all naval vessels.
This little instrument has quite a trafie his
tory, and is held of considerable val. It
was tbe ship's chronometer of the uaterta
nate Polaris tbat was seat oat oa aa Atatie
expedition by the Navy Departawat ia MCI.
When the Polaris was sipped ia the iae Cap
tain uau sayeu ihjs jBstrniBeBS aa
other things from the vessel. As leaf as'
Captain Hall survived ha kept the ehVa- '
nometer with him. When he perished H
was buried ia the Aretie saowa aad
abandoned. This was soaw timeialSfl
Eor four winters it lay buried in the saew
and ice. - "
In 187S Captain Nares, of the British,
navy, now Sir George Nares, thea ia oesa
mandof the last royal expedition te the
Arctic region, discovered thU chronemiter
at Newman's Bay. He dag it ont of the
snow and took it to England with hkaAe
his return. It had beea buried ia the saew;
for four years 'ia a region where the"
mercury sinks te IM degrees below
freezing point. It was feead , te
be in perfect order, and was wound aad Ma
all right as soon as taken from its eeM bed.
On returning to England Captaia Nsres
turned the . iajkasaeat over to the British
admiralty WWrea waeaee it was seat aa
a present to this GoveraaieBt. With all
this experience it loses only a second ia
21 hours.
Mr. MulHgay Biug lender,; :-3fadl
They's one jut a-oeaia' over tk'-fwee.-
Judo-e.
e
It pays in Germanv to coin a new word.
The BeT. Dr. Zoller, ot Walhllagea, Bear Bktts
part, has juit received MO marks for the forg
ing out of the word "rautarolle," wales means.
literally, "a roll of smoke," to be taBstHatsd
Xor the word "dgare," which souaaed too tor
etfrn for the dalieato ears ot the youag Oex
man Emperor.
A Strident Beeo S- t
Jndigestion
IS not caly a dtefereg-ing connplalaV '
Itself, bat, by causing the blood to
become depraved aad the system en
feebled, ia the parent of inntmseraBie) v
maladies. That Ayes SanaparaistS
fa the best eare for IndigestioB, e-reaV Vy
wbancoBilcated withliver CiJfflpJaii
Is proved by &e following totfmoiy,
from Mrs. Joseph. Lake, of Broekwjs '
Centre, Mica.: ,
"Liver complaint and MifastfM
made mv life a harden aad case Mat?
ending my exfeteace. Tor mora thea
tour yean I suffered untold agoay, waa
reduced almost to a skeleton, aad. aawi
IS
had strength to drag myself about.
kinds of food distressed me, aad ow
tbe most delicate could be digested at
a!I. WiUdn the time meatkaiedseverai
physicians teeated me without givtegro
BeL, Notbiag that I took seemed to do
any permanent good until I commeacea
the use of Ayers SerseparUla, wuca
has prodooed weaderfal results, sooa
after conaaeaeiag to take the S?'"!
rilla I could see aa improvement lnmy
condition. My appetite began to row
and with It case tbe ability to dlgee
aU tbe food taken, my strength m
proved eaoa day, and alter "!
souths of fatthJal atftntion to y
directioas, I nd myself af"
wosaaa, able to attend to aU BMeaeiav
duties. Tbe medielne baa given h
sew lease of Bie."
Avar's Sarsapaiillsi
Dr. J. Cjr & C, lj&
al
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