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I CLUSTER OF BUDS
1 - - .
if Soon to Unfold in the Scented
I" ait oi uapitai society.
TOUTH, BEATJTYl TALENT
Combined in the Persons of This
Season's Debutantes.
FAIR GIRLS OF WASHINGTON'S 400
ICOBEZBrOKSZirCZ or thedisfjltch.j
"Washington; December 7.
THE pretty
girls of the coun
try have captured
the Capital. They
walk by the bun-
dreds every after
noon along Penn
sylvania avenue.
Their sweet, rosy
faces shine ont
from the galleries
or the House and
the Senate, and
Mtheirstylishtnrn
fljjnU make yon
-dizzy nu aa
miration as they
dash past yon in
Mix Mlans. the parKs ana in
the drives near ex-President Cleveland s
home. "Washington is a city of homely
women no longer. The new Admin
istratian has brought 'in new blood,
and the crop of fresh girls contains more
beauties than the famed gallery of the mad
king of Bavaria in the palace at'Munich.
Verily, nature has smiled upon our states
men's daughters in this year of our Lord,
2889, and all that art and money can do is
being done to make their appearance in the
next year's social garden one of splendor, of
sweetness, and light Thousands have
been lavished upon their dresses, and
lying away in the jewel cases of the
Capital are diamonds by the quart,
and pearls by the peck. The dresses of this
year will be finer than ever before, but the
girls will surpass the dresses, and the
debutantes will be brignter than the dia-
The Wtlliarmon Suten.
monds and purer than the pearls. They
-will be the rosebuds of the capital, the
sweetest, the prettiest, and the freshest of
their sex.
They will come ont to us from every
circle. The Cabinet will give five, and we
will get two from the Supreme Court fami
lies, and another two from the diplomatic
corps. Two will have Senators for their
sponsors, and a baker's dozen will come
from the army, navy and resident society
circles.
So many and so fair t
The winter's drawing rooms will be bas
kets of roses passionate Jacqueminots,
dreamy Marechal Neils, soulful Nephetos,
and mystical La France blossoms. They
have been nurtured in secret in the. hotbeds
of private schools, and they are now trans
planted with their petals glowing into the
dazzling drawing rooms of Washington.
JL BTXD X-BOU XAX2TE.
Harriet Stanwood Blaine, the daughter
of the Secretary of State, heads the list A
bud of 19. For the last three years she
has been trained at Mrs. Porter's school, at
Farmington, Conn., and the bursts foith
into Washington society "with her peuils in
tellectually in the best of shape. She has
nerratner s quick wit and his ready repartee,
and she comes into the social flower garden
with good looks and splendid dresses. As
to her appearance, she is of medium height,
and she carries her slender, well-made form
with dignity and crace. Her face is clear
cut, and her mobile, sweet mouth is founded
on a firm, clean-cut chin. Her hazel eyes
nave tne inena
ly, magnetic
look of those
that have made
her father the
most popular of
American
statesmen, and
she is especially
leautiful under
the dazzling
lights of the baii fMMbJ? mmwi
room, Miss
Blaine has
masses of glossy
brown hair,
which she wears
in the pictur
esque Catogan Mits Florence Miller.
loop. On the street she dresses very quietly
and in the English fashion. Her first sea
son 'dinner and reception toilets are of the
delicate tones of the society rosebud.
Another Cabinet bud is Miss Florence
Windom, the younger daughter of the Sec
retary of the Treasury. She was educated
at the same school as Miss Blaine, and, like
Miss Blaine, she has seen very little of so
ciety. She is not yet 19, and her father and
mother still call her "the child" and "Flos
sie." Hiss Windom is below medium
height She has a plnmp figure, "brown eyes
and hair, cheeks that show the color of the
rose and which develop into dimples when
she laughs or talks. Her eyes are brown,
and her nose is just the least tip-tilted.
Another young lady who will make her
grit appearance on the social rostrum is Miss
Emily Proctor, the daughter of the Secre
tary. She is a very quiet girl, and she re
minds one of Priscilla, with all of that
Puritan maid's drollery. Her gowns are as
modest as herself, and she looks very much,
like her father; of rather pale complexion '
her face is shaped much the same as hit ana
herfeyei and hair are of the same lightish
browh'of his in his younger days.
-SHE PLATS THE BANJO.
The daughter of Attorney General Miller
has the advantage over her sister belles in
the point of musical ability. She can pick
the banjo with more skill than the famed
Uncle ifed of negro melody, and her sweet
soprano voice has been cultured by the best
teachers in Indianapolis. .She is a great
friend of President and Mrs. Harrison, and
she will probably be one of the figures of
White House -society. She is the eldest
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daughter of the Attorney General, and she
has assisted her mother In Indianapolis soci
ety since she was 16. This is her first winter
in "Washington, and her popularity is al
ready assured, for she is vivacious, and en
ters into every amusement with a child's en
joyment, and has a pleasing candor. She
will have as her guest, for a part of the sea
son, Miss Annie Constant, an Indiana girl,
who plays divinely, and who will also be
an especial favorite at the White House.
The Postmaster General's daughter, Min
nie, has stolen a march on the other rose
Im is. She was presented to society a month
ago at "Lindenhurst," the Wauamafcer
country place, near Philadelphia. Mrs.
Wanamaker will be in the Quaker City very
little after the season begins, and she wished
to present her daughter to her friends before
leaving. Miss Minnie does not know it,
but her entrance into Washington society is
looked for more eagerly than that of any
of the others. Everyone of the score of de
butantes knows that she is pretty, traveled,
and of consummate art in dress.
Chief Justice Fuller has eight daughters,
and the fairest of the eight will be a winter's
rosebud. All of Chief Justice Fuller's
daughters are pretty, but no one would deny
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A SXNAXOBXAXi trio.
the palm to Miss Mildred, the fourth daugh
ter, who will come ont dunnt,' the season.
There are two distinct types in the Fuller
family. Maud, Mary, who is now in Ber
lin, and Pauline, who married so suddenly
in Milwaukee last March, are pronounced
brunettes, while the other five and Melville
"WestonTJr., the young son, are all pur
est blondes.
X BEAtrTEFUIi DEBAM.
Miss Mildred Fuller is not only the pret
tiest girl in her own family, but she can eas
ily compare with any one -ot the score of
debutantes. She is tall and formed after the
graceiui moaei oi
Marie Antoinette.'
t-rFUfcittaeeshpwi&g
a strange- 'combina
tion of dreaminess
and power. Her
throat is round and
soft, and her shoul
ders slope a trifle
more than those of
the modem girl.
She wearsher show
er ot golden curls
netted low on tier
tecTi after that type
,i svmmetrv. the
Venus of Mdo. At
first glance, one
4 irould think she
had that marvelous
Mist Elizabeth CampbeU.combias.tion, bla(k
eyes and golden hair, but the effect is really
produced by the quality of the eye whicn
permits the' dilating of the pupil until it
seems to absorb the whole iris. Her eyes
are really a clear, light gray. There is a
tinge of sadness in the whole face that makes
one wonder what the world has in store for
the dreamy, beautiful girl.
The second debutante of the Supreme
Court circle is Miss Laura Harlan, second
daughter oi Justice Harlan. She has spent
the last two years at a fashionable school in
If ew York, and is a winning, lovable girl.
Miss Maud Pauncefote, the eldest of the
four daughters of the British Minister, .was
presented at eourt'.two seasons ago, and can
not be put with vthe debutantes, although
she will appear forstha first time in 'Wash
ington. She is alraodjr, popular with the
young girls who havefieen asked to meet
her, and will be as much liked as the
daughters ot the former Ifinister.the Misses
West. She is a sensible girl, for she likes
America and everything American. She
will assist Lady Pnnncefote at the receptions
at the British L gat on.
Uiie yonngest oi Senator Donald Cam
eron's five daughters by his first marriage
will enter society this winter. All but one
of the others are married. The debutante,
Miss Bachel, was educated at the best pri
vate schools, and has never been allowed to
appear in the Cameron drawing room at any
thing but family parties, so that her debut
will De a veritable ''coming out."
A PSETTT BBOWN-EYED MAID.
The prettiest little brown-eyed maid in
this round world is Courtenav Walthall, the
adopted daughter of Senator Cary Walthall,
of Mississippi. She is his wife s niece and
was adopted by them when a child. Miss
Courtenav is only 17, so tnat ner nrit winter
will be a rather quiet one, and she will not
appear as tbe inll-blown rose until next
season. She had a taste of society last
winter, and willful little beauty that she is,
is unwilling to wait until she reaches the
debutante age, which Js 18. Her mother
has consented that she appear informally in
her own and her friends' drawing rooms.
No famed professional beauty is prettier
than, this little Mississippi girl. She has
the wonderful coloring of a Creole, brown
skin that flushes m waves of red as
she talks, eyes
lull, dark and
dreamy, nose
tip-tilted. Her
mouth is dim
pled, and her
round chin is
like a pretty
baby's. Her
hair is dark,
and it waves -.
back from a igfe;
low forehead
and. rose-pink
ears. She is
naive, and it
will take many
a season to
brush the
child-like
beauty from M its Paxmctfole.
Courtenav Walthall's face. She spent her
school days in Washington and New
Orleans, and is a fitting daughter of the
South, which produced Bailie Ward, Nellie
Hazeltine, and tbe famed beauties of the
White Salphar Springs.
Miss Grace Davis, daughter ef ex-Senator
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Henry G. Davis, of West Virginia, may al,
most be called the White House debutante
as she will appear In Washington society
partly under the chaperonage of Mrs. Ham
son. She has already spent two weeks there,
and is greatly favored by the President's
wife. She is a noble-looking young woman,
tall, with a carriage of head and shoulders
which only a life of exercise can give. She
is a fine horsewoman, perfectly fearless, and
she sits in the saddle with the ease of an
English huntress. In coloring she is more
brunette than blonde, and her waving brown
hair is the prettiest coronet woman ever
wore. She wears no bangs, but allows her
hair to ripple back in the natural -way,
braiding it on the necfc In a heavy mass of
shining plaits. Miss Davis is a favorite
with the Cabinet girls, many of whom she
went to school with, and she also counts her
friends in the select resident society.
MOKE BLOSSOMS.
Miss Davis has a niece almost as old as
as herself, who will appear at the capital
during the season. This is Miss Elizabeth
Elkins, daughter of Mr. Stephen B. Elkins
by his first wife. Her entrance into Wash
ington society will be under the chaperon
ege of a very 'handsome woman, Mrs. Clark
son, wife of the Assistant Postmaster Gen
eral. Miss Elkins has a magnificent phy
sique, and is one of the most genuinely
clever girls it is one's pleasure to meet.
Miss Elizabeth Campbell, daughter of
Ohio's new Governor, was to have been
presented in January by her mother; but,
as that is the time of her father's inaugura
tion, at Columbus, O., she will not appear
at the Capital until later. Much of the
season, however, she will spend here, and
she can really be called a Washington rose
bud. She is one of the few decided bru-
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nettes in tbe whole score, and is conse-
quenuy a superoiy preny gin. dub wa
Mucated in Mr. Peeble's school in New
York, traveled abroad one year, and is now
taking a course in French and history in
the same New York school. Like a sensi
ble girl, she knew there was nothing to do
until the season opened, and she begged to
go back to school and stndy three months
before tbe plnnge into gaiety. She looks
like a demoiselle of the Empress Josephine's
court The resemblance is increased as she
wears her black hair coined high in & fash
ion learned from a Parisian coifieur.
What a record they must keep up, these
pretty daughters of the first families. So
many beauties tamed in the old, as well as
the new, world come from them, and they,
par excellence, are the beauties of Washing
ton. In the list in which the divine Mattie
Mitchell, the heiress-beauty; Miss Letter,
the charming Misses Maury, the lovely
Katy Beach, who, at one time, was engaged
to Allan Arthur; the pretty Florence
Audenried, and the fairest of last season's
buds, Peggy James, appeared, we riow have
the "Williamson Twins,"Miss CarrleStory,
Miss Hoy, Miss Mildred Carlisle, Miss
Louise Baiobridge-Hofif. Miss Alice Condit
Smith, and Miss'Abbie Scott.
IHE -WaLIXAMSON JJBATTTIES.
These are.the girls who make their debut
at the Capital, fly off to Paris or London,
the nextyear, reign as queens at Newport.
and finally marry tne scions ot tne oest
houses. They are rarely seen in official
society, and are guarded as carefully from
the public as the daughters of New York's
Fonr Hundred. It is said that Senator
Mitchell's daughter has had no rival, here'
tofore, but thisyear she will need to look
ont for the laurels, for the bunch oi buds are
the prettiest ever seen. These are the twin
daughters of General Williamson, the dark-
eyed Madge and fair Pauline, contrasting
beauties, who will set the world by its ears.
Some people say Pauline is the prettier,
others say Bhe cannot compare with
Madge. They are just 18 these William
son beauties. Pauline is tall and slender,
with shapely head and eyes of a wonderful
blue. Madge is petite and slight, with black
eyes that make her sister's blue ones for
gotten, and which look at you with an ex
pression saucy aud piquant. They belong
to a family of prejtty women. Their older
sister, Annette, was married a month ago,
and was said to be one of the prettiest of the.
year's brides. The girls were in school in
Chicago last winter, and went out a little
there under a married sister's chaperonage.
They are great favorites in Washington,
being especially liked by Lady Pauncefote
and her daughters and other members of the
diplomatic corps. Mas. GBTJxmr, JB.
QUEER NOISES IN A HOTEL,
They Are Made nt Night by People With the
Nightmare.
"Among the man queer experiences
gained in a hotel," said the clerk of an up
town hostelry to a reporter, "are those con
nected with gnests who ore subject to night
mare, which is more common than many
people suppose. It is not uncommon for a
night in a large hotel to develop several
cases of this kind. In the stillness of the
early morning hours heavy groans or a
shriek may be heard sounding along the
corridor. The ball boy wakes up. rubs his
eyes and awaits to see what is coming, and
if he is a new one at the business, half ex
pects that a murder is being committed.
"We had a case, not long ago of a gentle
man here who, dnring the middle of the
night began pounding on his door, yelling
at the same time, 'Let me out, let me out.
Help! Help!' The hallbor rushed down to
the desk, and, with the night clerk and the
porter, hurried back to the room whence
came the sounds of distress. All was quiet
They waited awhile, then knocked. The
subject of the nightmare came to the
door feeling very much crestfallen.
He explained that be had eaten a
too-liberal supply ot deviled crab during
the previous evening, and that he had
dreamed that he was locked in one of the
immense money vaults of the Treasury,
which he bad seen during his visit to the
city. His own cries for help had caused
him to wake. Such cases, more or less ex
citing, are of almost nightly occurrence in a
large hotel, -and usually greater -when the
social season is at its height. Tbe guests
who get intoxicated are sot jaclude in this
class of Boke-Baakers. They-form a separate
study alone.
V
" MUs ixaier.
PITTSBURG, SUNDAY,
WHYDON'THEMABKT?
Some Reasons Given by Tonng Men
of To-Day for Not Marrying.
BENEDICT CHAMBERS VS WEDLOCK.
Mrs. Frank Leslie oa tbe Marital State and
Its Happiness.
THE ESSENTIALITY OP HABBIAGE
twnmaa job tot dispatch. 1
Btraws show which way the wind blows,
and a quiet little addition to the building
interests of New York especially, and other
cities in their degree, shows the growth of a
new phase of our American life, likely to
make a large mark upon the future.
Benedict Chambers is a favorite name for
these new edifices, and that of course means
that they are intended for bachelors' quar
ters, although in passing let us wonder, as I
often do, why Benedict, who is chiefly
famous because he did marry, and calls
himself "Benedict the married man," should
be chosen a the type, of resolved and settled
celibacy.
Until lately, a young unmarried man was
considered and acoommodated as a sort of
bird of passage; he had a tiny room in his
father's house, or he boarded somewhere, or
he lived at a hotel, or he lodged in one house
and ate in another or at a cafe; he was on
his promotion; he was not livine, but stay
ing; he was the half of a pair of scissors; he
was a transitional formation, not worth plac
ing or formulating very accurately.
If he hung lone on hand, people began to
say, "Why doesn't he marry? He surely
has salary enough, hasn't he?"
And it by chance he remained unmarried,
he became a sort of phenomenon, was called
'an old bachelor," ridiculed, offered in jest
to each other by merry girls, and made the
subject of comic songs, stories and jests. It
was in those days, not so long gone by,
either, a matter of course that a young
man's one idea of contented personal life
was to marry a nice girl, set up a home
where he snould be lord and master, and
accept with equanimity the little responsi
bilities likely to accrue.
SINGLE SKUI31INES3.
But the luxurious ana carefully planned
Benedict Chambers do not accord with this
idea. They are evidently intended for men
who already have secured a sufficient in
come for modest marriage, but who do not
intend to spend their money in that way;
for men who say of two or three or five thou
sand a year as the gourmand did of the
goose that it was an inconvenient roast, be
ing a little too much for one, but not enough
for two.
These gentlemen consider that a pretty
suite of rooms where they may smoke as
much as they choose, stay up until they
wish to go to bed, have guests when they
like, or play hermit if they prefer, have tb'e
morning coffee and roll served at their bed
side, and lunch and dine at Delmonico's, is
better than to establish a partnership house
hold, where tbe domestic portion is more
apt to rule than the one whose business
takes him away for most of his waking
hours.
From a purely selfish point of view prob
ably Benedict judges wisely. He can be more
comfortable, he can be more independent, he
can escape a good deal of annoyance and
perplexity, but then he can't be married.
And placing Benedict Chambers in one
scale, and married life in the other, which
has solid gold enough in its composition to
bear down the scales?
Is marriage an essential of the hapniness
of life?
TIMES HATE CHANGED.
Flftv vears aeofls J have, iust intimated
r no sucn quesuon couiu nave oeen seriously
asxea or answered. At was a matter or
course that yonng people were to marry
just as soonlas they had the means,
and, to judge from what was written in that
day, and from the ingrained prejudices of
the survivors of that day, it was the young
men who were eager to be married as
speedily as possible, and the young women
who were urged to set aside their coy scru
ples and consent to an early day.
"What has changed this healthy, natural,
patriarchal order of events? Why do men
now take counsel with themselves and each
other, and so often conclude that chambers
are preferable to a dulce domum? and why
do they and ill-natured women so often
speak of girls trying to marry, angling for
husbands, and all the rest of it?
We are often told by the bachelors them
selves that tbe march of luxury has out
stripped the march of incomes; that a man
cannot now start in life as his father did,
but is expeoted to begin where he left off.
They say that tbe dowerless daughter of a
man living up to a big income expects to go
from her father's honse to one just as
fashionably situated, just as well furnished
and served, and to continue without a break
the life to which she has been accustomed.
"And a fellow of 25 doesn't ordinarily
have an income rising $10,000 a year," said
one discontented bachelor to whom I was
giving sensible advice.
But, taking all one's, friends together, do
the married men seem absolutely happier
than the bachelors, even if they have means
large enough, or a wife economical enough,
to make marriage possible?
ANXIOUS MAEEIED MES.
I am inclined to think they are not. Mar
ried men, as a rule, have a speculative, absent-minded
expression upon their faces, as
if they were mutely pondering over some
intricate domestic or commercial affiair.
They generally have aa air ot arriere pen
see, so to speak, and it is not, to my mind,
the fullest expression of happiness the human
face can wear.
The bachelor face, on the other hand, has
its own handwriting ot ill success. It is apt
to wear a bored expression; a look of Is life
worth the living? or else a cynical indiffer
ence to this and every other qnestlon outside
of his own material comforts, which is very
painful to read upon a youne man.
An unmarried man grows selfish, narrow
and material almost as a matter of course,
for life in its early days possesses an elas
ticity like what the medical men tell us be
longs to the human stomach. If one eats a
cood deal and varied food, the stomach em
braces and assimilates it.all; if one eats too
little, and that only of concentrated food,
the stomach contracts, grows rigid and is no
longer capable of more than the most lim
ited service.
Moral: Put a good deal into your life,
and your life will be able to make good use
of it, and to nourish the inner man, the un
seen and immortal Fgo, to the best advant
age. We cannot supersede nature, although we
do try very ardently and obstinately to do
so.
Men and women were- intended for each
other; they were intended to marry and to
become parents. The human race is to be
carried on, and the waste places of the
globe are yet to be peopled; and this great
sweep of the circle of infinity is not to be
clipped out and thrown aside by the archi
tects of Benedict Chambers. Perhaps tbe
gilded youth of Hew York, London, Paris
and Vienna will inhabit such chambers,and
live and die in them; and please
FAUCT STJOH A DEATHBED I
But the world will go on, aen and maid
ens will love and marry and rear up chil
dren to follow their example so Ictag as the
world endures; and well for the world it is
that these things thus should be, for this is
the natural life, and in following out such
laws both the race and the individual will
find its highest development, and therefore
highest happiness.
The unmarried man, and more especially
tbe unmarried womaa, has not filled his or
her amplest sphere of existence, a4 MUMot
btffll.tgMiy.isarSi' . - U
DEOEMBEB 8, 1889.
aenleved, for they leave the place where
they stood vacant when they fall, and the
"win, aiwougn it may be wiser, cannot oe
the richer becansa thev hnvn lived.
It is hardly worth while, however, to fret
very mucn over tne perversity oi tnose wno
will not follow out this benignJawofnature
or too severely scold the selfish Benedicts,
or the silly, extravagant girls who diseour-
ing another law of not so much nature
aa destiny one of those bits of
quiet irony with which that "Des
tiny which shapes our ends, rough hew
them how we may," often diversifies her
labors. Look through the history of tbe
world, that is, of its civilized nations, and
yon will find every one of them governed by
this unwritten bnt unchanging law; while
life is simple, the need of population con
fessed, and communities small, marriage
will be looked upon as desirable, and nearly
all young persons will seek, desire and ac
complish it. Life will be easy, and children
wUl spring up like buttercups in June.
JTATUBE KITOWS BEST.
Later on capital becomes concentrated,
rich men wealthier and poor men poorer,
labor less honorable, the standard of com
fort advanced beyond what was once the
limit of luxury, the cities grow too large to
be called communities, business takes on the
air of piracy or predatory warfare, and men
no longer profess to care much for building
up a country or emulating the patriotism of
their grandsires.
JThen comes the eraof Benedict Chambers;
then does destiny permit her young men to
contract their lives into selfish, cynical
bachelorhood, and her maidens to wither
upon the stem or to find themselves a "voca
tion" in the world or the convent, for she
sees this coming destiny that at this point ot
space and time there is no need of more pop
ulation, no need ot pioneers, no need of
building up an already overgrown center.
She sees, too, dpes she not? that an effete
and overcultivated and exhausted stock is
not the one whence to take scions for her
new pIantations,and she simply leaves them
to run out, struggle where they will, un
bound and untrained, flower or fruit, and
finally die down and disappear.
Nature knows best; nature has her laws
and her intentions; and quiet though she be
in most of her ways, the combined wisdom,
determination and effort of the whole race
wiU not effect her methods in the least.
Mbs. Fbaxk Leslie.
THE STKEET OAR HOG.
There Are Times Wlen the Porker ! Not of
JHascnllne Gender.
WashlnEtonroit.1
The street car bog is as various as the hu
man race. Sometimes the hog has its own
way and sometimes it doesn't. It was on a
bobtail car. A gorgeously attired woman
with a square chin and strident voice gets
in with a couple ot friends. She fills the
only vacant space. To a quiet, unassuming
crent'.eman next her she says:
"Sir, will you kindly get me a package of
tickets?"
He pulls out of the' seat into which she
bad wedged him to get the tickets. She
slides along, her party squirms in, and in a
second the space the gentleman vacated is
fuller than ever. The gentleman returns
with the tickets, and asks:
"How many ont?"
To which madam replies with an air of
concealed triumph.
"Nonel"
And takes the package. Everybody
"catches on" and smiles or frowns, artach
considers it a joke or a put-up job.
The gentleman fails to catch the drift of
merriment, seemingly, but hooks on to a
strap as if it were all right Suddenly he
feels in one pocket, then in another, and
then remarks:
"Pardon me, madam, but I.think you are
sitting on something that is mine."
' am I?" she asks, and rises heavily that
he may get it. He slips into the vacated
seat
lYegmadam, You were sittinz on sav
eat"'" "
Madam is paralyzed, and the passengers
laugh, giggle, scream, shout, roar or howl,
according to age. sex or previous condition
of servitude. Tne mortified woman pulls
the bell strap and tries to back offbeforo the
car stops, with a face you could light a
cigar by, leaving her friends behind. The
gentleman looks serenely unconscious, and
a car fall of people feel comfortable tbe rest
of the way home because one car hog has
gotten such a come-upance.
BISMAECFSLITEEARI TASTES.
The Chancellor a Student of Greek and
Ijstln bnt Not of English.
ladles' Home Journal.
The Iron Chancellor is quite, a connois
seur in books, and has added without very
much expense at any time to the small
library that he began to gather when a
student He is a good Greek and Latin
scholar also, and often amuses himself by
translating from the original, He is not
nearly so voluminous a reader as Mr.
Gladstone, and is not always looking
for a gem or something that will
repay the perusal of a stupid
chapter. He once explained to a friend
that the book must interest him at the be
ginning, or he would have nothing to do
with it. He pays little or no attention to
English or American literature, and al
though many of the English and American
men of letters have been presented to him
he is not well acquainted with their work.
He possesses a well thumbed copy of
Whittier's poems, and likes to spend an
hour or so occasionally with the "Autocrat
of the Breakfast Table." When some great
work has appeared in either England or
America, and is translated into German,
Bismarck reads it, but it must be of sur
passing interest to engage his attention.
Where They Drew tfao Line.
Captive Hold ont Give me five minutes
to smoke a cigarette, first!
Chonw of Natives Wowl cigarette
smoker bo feed ta aat. aoisoa as aU-ht
Errant in
AN IRISH GENTLEMAN'S ADVENTUEB IN
it j
JC
By Justin. Huntley McCarthy, M. P., and Albert Delpit.
:
WBHTEX TOS THE
K an autumn evening
certain gentleman sa
certain tavern in Denver. The time was
autumn but the aspect of the year was
wintry and wofuL A drizzling, thin rain,
fine as needles and chill as icicles, filmed
the view. The inn was a wretched place,
but it might well have seemed as pleasing
as a palace to any wanderer abroad on such
a doleful evening. Yet the occupant of the
best room and bad was the best did not
appear to be over-pleased with his quarters.
A fire blazed upon thn hearth, and sent
queer shadows leaping about the stark
walls and quivering in the dnsty corners
of the room. The gentleman sat opposite
the fire, with one booted leg swung over
the other, and his chair tilted back,
staring into the flames, and lightly
"Hi
Talbat Meditate Upon Bit Fotitton.
humming to himself, beneath his breath,
the gracious Irish rebel tune, "The Shan
VanVocht" Helookedasmixedlygallant
and depressed as an olden knight in bad
luck, for he wa&as handsome a younglrish
man as ever wandered from Ireland in quest
of fortune. His costume was a departure
from civilized garb toward the picturesque
dress of a cowboy. By the side of the
rickety chimney-piece a square of printed
paper had been lately stuck up, and on this
squarevof, .priated paper the eyes of Jhe
gentleman frequently rested, and whenever
they did so an amused light danced inthem,
and the hummine sped at a blither gait It
is a custom in that region to advertise in a
particular newspaper with very big type,
such things as cattle ranchers desire to bny
or sell, and this clipping was typographic
ally bold in tbe conventional way, but its
matter was novel if its manner was not It
read:
WASTED 'A GENTLEMAN WHO
speaks French, and Js perfectly familiar
with the Rocky Mountains regions, to act as
guide and guard to a lady on a prospecting
tour. Address M,B at this office.
The gentleman had posted the 'advertise
ment on the wall, as if to see, by regarding
it. how he would look in the employment
whioh it offered. He was out of money, and
nearly out of hope. Therefore, any source
of immediate income was to be apprecia
tively considered. But be was something of
an aristocrat at home, and therefore the job
of a courier was something which he had
never before thought of as passible to him.
Whenever the gentleman's eyes rested on
the bit of paper they brightened, still, when
thev turned strain to the glowing fire thev
.gloomed, and "The Shan Van Yocht''
flagged marceuiy. or tne ore was inn oi
pictures, as all fires are to the observant,
and the pictures they painted now to their
watcher were melancholy enough. He saw
tbe ruins of bis family estate in Ireland; he
saw gallant gentlefolk of ancient name
wandering wearily in foreign lands. Deso
late, pathetic pictures. But the fire pic
tures he studied "were chiefly personal lit
tle pictures in which two persons played
prominent parts. He was. one of the actors;
his cousin, Gregory O'Carroll, was the other.
The last thing he had heard of concerning
Gregory was that he was seeking the hand
of Eitty Hellish, the beautiful girl with
whom he had danced a measure on the night
before-be quitted his Irish home to seek a
better fortnne ia American. She was
a handsome girl he remembered, scan
ning his dream-picture in the glowing
coals. Would she be sorry, he wondered, if
he never returned? Would she be glad if he
went back enriched? What would she think
of him of Talbot Power, scion of the rained
but still proud Power family If she knew
that he would hire himself out as a courier?
"She ought to think it better than cattle
stealing or stage robbing," he said to him
self; "and those are the alternatives, so far
as I can see. So I go to M. I?., whoever she
may be, and she may have me if she will."
His preparation for the visit was singu
lar. It consisted of shaving off his beard and
mustache. The beard was of American
growth, but the mustache had covered his
lip and overhung his mouth since he was 20.
The clean shave was in the whimsical na
ture of a disguise. He smiled bitterly as he
surveyed in the glass bis face as smooth as
that of an actor or a lackey. He saw, too,
that a change had come over his expression
during bis days of Western atmggiing. A
line crossed his forehead, his cheeks had be
come thinner, and his whole face had grown
harder.
In an hour he was in the presence of Mrs.
Mira Belitska, a Bassian. countess, wealthy
and ad venturous,, who had come to America
ou a pleasure tour. He had made up his
mind to retreat if the stranger proved to be
disagreeable. But her mode of reception
astonished him so much that it was long be
fore he regained the sense of reality. At
the end ot the hotel room in a reclining
chair lay a woman of 30 or 35 years. She
had been very beautiful; but in spite of her
comparative youth her face appeared old
upon closer inspection, because of the many
fine wrinkles covering tbe temples and neck.
Her gray eyes were wandering, dull and
colorless. Only her heavy blonde hair and
white teeth kept the beauty of youtb,
though her delicate hands showed her noble
birth.
"AM is it you, Monsieur?" she said in
French, in a lingering voice. "Pardon me
if I do not rise to receive youy Xaa ill, so
lilt"
The young maa responded with an aupro
priate kew, took a ehafc and sat tnwq'ailly
down- Then he kefced at Mrs. Selifeks,
and, wiiW far VyJa-frtti ffii fcwd di
I 11 K an autumn evening a
II certain gentleman sat at
ease in jthe best room of a
the Rockies
AMERICA. i
PITTSBXrEO DI3PAI0H.1
rect glance seemed to embarrass the lady,
for she blushed slightly, and spoke in the
plaintive, imploring tone of a child: "Yon
have seen Mason?" he being the agent
through whom Talbot had briefly negotiated
before calling on her. "You accept I hope,
the conditions which he has named?"
"Yes. madam."
"Ah, that is well. I am glad to bear it"
She drew a small syringe from a case on the
table beside her. I am obliged to use mor
phine when I suffer so much. I am so ill."
Lightly and skillfully she injected the
drug under the skin above her left shoulder.
Almost immediately her bead fell back
heavily upon the cushion of the chair.
Talbot watched her in amazement, asking
himself if the woman could be crazy. For a
minute she remained motionless, in deep
prostration; then suddenly starting up as if
waking from a refreshing nap. she rose, and
throwing back her hair with a coquettish
gesture, said: "I feel quite cured. Now we
caatalk. Mason told me your name, but I
have forgotten it"
"Talbot Power."
"Ah, thanks."
The young man could hardly conceal his
surprise. This animated lady could not ba
the one whom he bad been studying some
minutes before. The heavy eyes bad be
come almost brilliant and theindolentfigdre
almost energetic. She took a Bussian
cigarette from a silver case and touched a
bell. After lighting her cigarette she rested
her arm upon the table and graciously re
peated: "Yes, you please me very much, mon
sieur, f think that my trip will last a year.
Mason has asked me to give you three
months' salary in advance. You shall have
six. In several weeks we shall be able to
judge of each other, and either of us shall
have the right to break the engagement if
not satisfied with the other."
The woman's confidence and her gener
osity touched him. "I am very gratelul for
your words, madam," he said, ''but I must
decline your offer, for it would give me the
lion's share of the bargain. Let us keep to
the conditions fixed by Mason. It is fair
that I should receive a quarter's salary be
fore starting, since I am quite penniless, but
I have no right to accept more."
Mrs. Belitska lightly shrugged her shoul
ders and replied dryly, "As you choose,
Monsieur.-" There was a short silence; then,
stretching out her hand to the young man
with an almost feline movement, she added,
"Then we do agree?"
"Entirely;"
"I am to start in three days for a ram
bling, roaming tour of the Bocky Mountains
region. It shall be your duty, if yon please,
to be a guide not in an ordinary sense, but
as a protector, adviser and champion for
me and the young lady who is to be my only
companion. We are good travelers, and
have come across the Atlantic, as well as
this far across America, without a male es
cort, but the Bockies make us afraid, and so
we will trust our safety to you, sir."
A short talk about the part of country to
be visited, and the means of transit, ended
the interview. An hour later Talbot re
joined Mason, the intermediary agent
"Well, bow did the interview go off?
Mason asked. s
lrVery well,'' was the reply. -
The Irishman was in better spirits than
he bad been for months, and gave a crisp ac
count of his call.
"I don't know much about this lady,"
Mason said, "only you did one foolish
thing."
"What wus that?"
"When you -were offered six months' pay
you ought to have taken it It was a guar
anty against her caprices; but after all you
probably have nothing to be afraid of. The
most likely event is that before six -weeks
are up my fair client will be madly in love
with you."
This idea seemed so farfetched that Talbot
had an outburst of hilarity. "Yon needn't
laugh; I'm perfectly serious. That woman
has a mania for marrying, and having al
ready buried two husbands, she must be
thinking about disposing of a third. Thanks
to me, she believes you a hero of romance,
and imagines that the name of Power dis
guises a penniless Irish lord of high degree.
Your good bearing has done the rest"
Talbot frowned. "That would be the
most disagreeable thing that could happen.
I would avoid it like tne plague, even if I
had to work my passage back to Ireland."
Puzzled by his strange employe and pre
disposed against her, Talbot studied her
during his next visit much as a naturalist
would Inspect a strange variety of tigress.
Truly, she seemed a charming woman; a lit-
tl ln.nM.tatant and (MTIMffTitt pit su.natt
bat good humored and gay. She had
traveled much, and her naturally good
memory served her well. He allowed her
to talk, as much for the pleasure of hearing
her as to keep the reserve that he had im
posed upon himself. He would be very
courteous, but cool, for he rather suspected
the friendliness of his prospective traveling
companion. Next day he found that the
gayetv of Mrs. Belitska bad suddenly col
lapsed. The sparkle in her eyes faded out,
the muscles of her face contracted, and a
network of wrinkles farrowed her brow and
and neck. In a day she had grown ten
years older, and was once more the ex
hausted and complaining creature whom he
had seen at his first interview. He had
known cases analogous to- that of this un
fortunate woman. The morphine takers are
almost incurable ; scarcely 30 out of 100 can
free themselves from this deadly habit As
in all such cases, this Bussian woman lived
ou the drug. Six times a day she made
hypodermic injections, which alone gave
her a factitious and transparent energy.
Talbot felt the deepest pity as he regarded
her lying back upon the cushion and quiver
ing with nervous excitement
"I am ill, so ill," she moaned.
BegardlewofTalb'spreeeBce she made
an Injection into her arm, and then lay back
upon the esshion with closed eyes. Five
minutes later she regained her animation
and her brilliancy.
"You look more surprised thaa you did
the other day," she observed.
"I am not surprised, madam, bat I pity
yon with all my heart"
"Ah!" she replied ratkerhasghtily. The
after a brief sileace she added geotly aad
with a smile: "Yom haw a coed heart, ay
fcisU.-Jjia A wriWe sajsia, J
Mn. BeliUka MeroUnq Kitty.
Once, two years ago, I tried to cure mvseliViSj
a went o Joeruu mj ub wuij jjutpiwu udt
thera ix in Enrone for maladies of this kind.''
The superintendent made me sign a paper t?
promising to remain a prisoner ior tnrea ?
montns. Unhappily, alter several weejes, a
fell back into my bad habits; But let us
talk or other things."
A sort of intimacy was gradually arising,
between tbem, and when they met again at
nipht In thArifninc rnnm of the hotel ana
w.nlil 1.I...& ...... ........I Alj.n 4m ha fwn n t
with Talbot and ntterinera thousand follies.-'
They went to a theatrical entertainment.
Once she said, smiling: "What is joa-
nrst name:'
"Talbot," he answered.
"Don't you find it tiresome to call
Madam' all the time?"
"Jtfotatall."
"Oh. how respectful you Irishmen alwayai
are. Bnssians and Americans are at theirj
ease immediately. So I'm going to- ask your J
permission to call you Talbot, simply, aadi,
in return, instead of that everlastingtj
name, which is Mira." '
Talbot felt somewhat startled by Mrs."
Belitska's tone and manner. Was the,
merely affecting to treat him as a man of
tne world, or as a menial, or was tnere a '
hidden meaning? In his perplexity he re-
JL Struggle for Mattery.
solved to keep up his politeness and re
"3-iK -j
"1 thank you for the honor that you do&gl
me," be replied, "but do you, not think that? 31
.1,1. -,:i:n.,-f. tv,;k .om i:ti otr -.s
iuj. .u.A.a..j ....guv Brm amb sAMar:
orainaryr js'vj
"As you choose," she rejoined, with herw
Habitual snrng or tne snoulders. j, Z
it was half over. Then they went to a pub- M
lie restaurant for a supper.
"What do you take to drink with",
meal?" she asked, as she scanned the bill of
fare-
"Nothing, madam, thank you," he re
plied. "Oh, well. I'm not so temperate as that"
She ordered a bottle of fine champagne,
and poured out a glassful, which she swal
lowed at one draught, with the coolness and
rapidity of a proficient drinker.
Then the conversation began as before.
From time to time Mira poured ont a fresh
glass of the champagne, as serenely and
composedly as any old toper. The wine in
creased her gaiety. Her, cheeks flushed and
her glance became more keen and penetra- ,
ting. At 10 o'clock when he left her at the
hotel, she offered her hand to Boland and '
said: "Good-night I'm half dead from
want of sleep, and I'm going to bed. Fare
well until to-morrow."
Left to himself, the. young man fell into a
reverie. What was this strange woman .
proud even to arrogance, or childishly aim
pie? In keeping up the same attitude
toward her he hoped to remain upon a -"
friendly footing. If would be better not to v
enter farther into such a dangerous intl- .
macy.
When Talbot went upstairs to his own '
room for he had transferred his quarters
from the miserable tavern the clocks were
ntHklni"- 12. Mrs. Belitska's apartments -
MTtBimiaA nfi.vn rnnmn fnr hersp.lf and cse '-?
fnrlhn rirl comrjanion whom he had not
X ..am mb b1,a 1, A 1,.nn.n. t 1umt AfT
.,M..MvMtnw.r rt. (h. fium,. ...1, f!m. -
he had called. As he reached the first -i,.
landing tneyoung man neara ioua sonnas
at the end of the corridor. If was the Bus
sian's voice, violent and furious in the si
lence of the night Suddenly a cry of pain
arose, the lingering, plaintive cry of a per
son suffering. What could be the matter?
Finally the noise ceased, and be went
to his room, only a little way off. But
sleep avoided him; on the eve of this curious
expedition a thousand opposing thoughts
crowded through his brain. What waa
pretty Kitty Mellish doing at home in Ire
land ? What was she thinking about ? All
at once he heard from the Bussian's room a
low moan, like that of an injured child. He
knew that the girl was there. Could Mrs.
Eelitzka have been beating her ? Impossi
Hc That eccentric woman appeared good-
hearted; she had shown admirable tact in
her relations with Talbot; wny snouia sno.',
not act-in the same way toward tnegirir,
.But at last ne leu asieep mm iuu uu awus r
till morning.
n.
Breakfast was the first meal which Talbot
Power was to eat in the same hotel where
his employer lodged. She had asked him
to meet her in the parlor at 9 o'clock, to
be introduced to her young female compan
ion, and then take the meal together. He
was ahead of her. When she entered, ao-
jttwnnAnfMl liv tTlA cirl & troic&l IHsh
beauty, with gray eyes, rimmed by black?
1..1,.. w!1 a T--w wMa fnmn1Ti(Mt .
sprinkled with a Texr freckles, and with a J
demurely any manner sne rornea to """?-
Kitty 'Atrumet a Hovel Bole.
does the two young persons. Butbefonl
she could utter their names iney were 1
selves ejaculating them.
"Kitty!"
"Talbot!"
tfheir clasp of hands approached closelyr
to an impulsive caress, ana a kiss was rs-
Iuctantlv left unexchanged. sfffl
"You know each other?" Mrs. Belitska
exclaimed. ' SHI
"Ever since we were two feet tall," TaKl
bot responded. "We grew up in the i
conntv In Tt1ti1
"How strange a chance that I should haveT
engaged Miss Mellish in London, to make!
tbe journey with me, and then yon herejaj
Denver to make out the party," and thirst!
was a tone of onestloning doubt in Uiu
Belitska's mind," as though she glimmer
ingly fancied some plot "Did neither off
yoa ue hmc the other was nerev"
"I left MIm Mellish at home ia lWlasSl
wheal started' for America," Mia lattJ
,11111 'frT.
5 1
Jfej
.&'... t'
- -
zi-ii