w
. . A
THE FEDTSBTJRGr -DISPATtJH, STJNTAY, PEBRTTAKT 2, 1890'.
19-
OLD AGE CHEEBFDL
Symposium by Famous Contributors
Upon the Close of Mortal Being.
YEESES FROM TWO AGED POETS.
Whitman Says the End Comes Soothingly
and EefresMnglj.
MATERIALISTIC VIEWS OP ZOLA
umi'iuii roE Tin dispatch.!
Two poets hare lately pnl forth, almost
simultaneously, verses containing a singu
larly similar thought. John G. Whittier,
in his 83d year, writes of himself as on a
chore hearing "the solemn monotone ot
waters calling unto" him. Allred Tenny
son, past 80, rhymes of an embarkation upon
a flood that will bear him "from out our
bourne of Time and Place." The stanzas
re quoted in the article contributed by that
other "good, pray poet," Walt "Whitman, to
the original symposium which we present
herewith to our readers. "Whitman's own
words of prase and poetry are pregnant with
pathos, but illumined by a cheerful view of
death in old age. In contrast is the mater
ialistic view of the subject taken by Etnlle
Zola, while from the pen of Ella Diets
Clymer, President of Sorosls, we get a
Christian mystic's ideas, and from Frank
Fyall a most peculiar and whimsical ac
count of an old man who grew youthful un
til he relapsed into babyhood.
THE POET'S CAPTION.
X Death. Bnnqnrt Fresh Pick'd January
1S90 br Walt Whitman.
Death too great a subject to be treated
eo indeed the greatest subject and yet I
am giving you but a few random lines, col
lecteana, about it as one writes hurriedly
ot the last part of a letter to catch the clos
ing mail. Only I trust the lines, especially
the poetic bits quoted, may leave a lingering
odor of spiritual heroism afterward. For I
am probably fond of viewing all the great
themes indirectly.and by sideways and sug
gestions. Certainly music from wondrous
voices or skillful players then poetic glints
ctill more put tbe soul in rapport with
death, or toward it. Hear a strain from
Tennvson's late "Crossing the Bar:"
Twilight ana evening bell.
And after that tbe dark:
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
For tho' from oar bourne or Time and Place
Tbe floods may bear me fur,
I hope to see my Pilot .face Jo face,
When I have crost the bar"
Am I starting the sail-crafts of poets in
line? Here, then, a quartain of Phry-
sichus long ago to one of old Athen's tar
vontes:
Thrice happy SophoclesI In pood old age,
Bices' d as a man, and as a craftsman bless d,
He died; his many tragedies were fair.
And fair bis end, nor knew be any sorrow."
A happy (to call it so) and easy death is
at least as nyich a physiological result as a
psychological one. The foundation of it
really begins before birth, and thence is
directly or indirectly shaped and affected,
even constituted, by everything from that
minute till the time of its occurrence. And
yet here is something ("Whittier's "Burning
llriltwood") of an opposite coloring: "
T know the solemn monotone
Of waters calling unto me;
I Know from hence tbe airs bare blown,
That wnisper of tb' Eter .al Sea;
As low my tires of driftwood burn
X hear that Sea's deep sounds increase,
And. fair In sunset lizht. discern
Its mirage-lilted Isles of Peace."
Like an invisible breeze after a long and
sultry day, death sometimes sets in at last,
Boothingly and refreshingly, almost vitally.
In not a lew cases the termination even ap
pears to be a sort of ectasy. Oi course there
are painful deaths, but I do not believe such
is tbe general rule. Of the man r hundreds
I myself saw die in the field anl hospitals
during the Secession War the cases of
marked suffering or agony in extremis were
very rare. (It is a curious suggestion of im
mortality that the mental and emotional
powers remain in their clearest througb all,
while the senses of pain and flesh-volition
are blunted or even gone.) Then to give
the following, and cease belore the thought
jrets threadbare:
'o finale to the shore!
How, laud life, finale and farewelll
Now, Voyager, departl (much, much for thee
is yet in store:) '
Often enough hast thou adventured o'er tho
seas.
Cautiously cruislnc. studying the charts,
Duly again to port, and hawser's tie, returning.
But now obey thy cherished, secret wish,
Embrace thy friends leave all in order:
To port, and hawser's tie, no more returning,
Depart upon thy endless cruise, old Sailor!
"Wait Wmrmi.
HUEETING OUT OP LIFE.
Zola Il7 Strrss Upon Manr Folks' Impa
tience for Death.
Serenity in old age is beautiful, but
Eomeof us find life too hard to bear until we
reach that tranquility. All around me here
in Paris is evidence of this distaste for life,
this craving for the rest of the grave. An
epidemic of suicide has sprung up like
a plague coming no one knows whence. On
some days the list mounts up to ten suicides,
while the average number is two or three.
Never has the contagion of death
eeemed to claim so many victims.
Some, in their misery or madness,
throw themselves from the bridges. Others
prefer the rope. Of poisoning there are
fewer instances; only women still swallow
laudanum or the phosphorus from a bundle
of matches, although the latter is sometimes
s successful means of suicide. Women, too,
sometimes open the arteries while in the
bath, and death puts them gently to sleep
under the tepid water. A girl ot 16 years,
driven mad by disappointment in "love,
chose last week to die in this way.
As to charcoal, it remains tbe solace of
the poor, a cheap and ever ready cure for
all the ills of hie. "Whenever an odor of
burning issues from under a door in the
.faubourgs inhabited by the working people,
the first cry ie, "Suicidel" They break in
the door, and sometimes arrive in time to
save some poor wretch struggling in the
agonies of death. Suicide bv the knife is
more rare, lor it requires too "much courage
to plunge a gleaming blade into the flesh.
.A more suitable weapon is tbe pistol;
it demands only a slight movement of the
finger even a .nervous contraction of
tbe muscles will suffice. Moreover, in case
the revolner is used, if the first shot miss
fire there are still four or five balls to com
plete the work. Last of all, the public
monuments are so longer used for this
deadly purpose. Scarcely one or two in
stances, each year, can be cited of persons
who have thrown themselves down to the
pavement from the towers of Notre Dame,
or from the summit of the Colnmn Yen
dome, and only the closest precaution has
saved the Eiffel Tower from suicidal popu
larity. It U a fine death this tremendous
jump, this leap into space thus to plunge
into tbe vortex of eternity.
One woman, after eight days vainly spent
in seeking for work, obtained on credit a
bushel of charcoal, to which she set fire, and
then-lay down, clasping in her arms her two
little children. Tne next day the three
corpses were found, stiff and livid, and
locked in a close embrace. Two old people
of 80 years, husband and wife, in their
despair refused to wait until death should
come to them; they were eager to go, and
they wished to go together, so they in
flicted horrible wounds upon themselves
with a razor. That a man in full vigor,
urged on by the tumult of the blood in
bis veins, should wish to check the beat
ing of his heart, can be easily under
stood; but at the suicide of an old man
we feel a sense of revolt we ask the
reason for so much impatience when the
miseries oi life are already drained to the
dregs, and when it requires only one mo 2
effort of courage to await the end. Still,
something sadder than the suicide of an old
person is tbe suicide of a child. It fills the
heart with the most profound pity. Before
a child kills Itself it must have felt the sor
rows of a man; and we vainly try to conceive
all the abominable workings of that young
brain, ending in tbe conclusion that death
is inevitable. It is hope destroyed; it is
the tree cut off at the root life out
raged and disowned. The scourge has fallen
even upon the children. One poor little
fellow, 10 years old, drowned himself be
cause he had been dismissed by his em
ployer, and dared not go home to his parents,
who would beat him. Another boy hanged
himselt from jealousy, because people pre
ferred his sistt' to himself. Lastly, a school
boy 12 years old knotted the fatal cord about
his neck without any apparent reason. It
was. perhaps a death from philosophy, be
cause life had alreadvbecome a weariness.
"What a burden this life is! How eagerly
men cast it aside? The very street arabs
will have none of it They kill themselves
in contempt of its joys, without even wait
ing to know them. The aged are filled
with regret for having lived, and refuse to
live loneer. All go together in the same
loathing for existence, and with but the de
sire for the quiet rest of the cemetery,
where the May sun warms the graves.
EiiiLE Zola.
A HAN REVERSED.
Singular Phenomena Which Attended an Old
Gentleman's Experiment.
A man who dwells no matter where
Beloves a maiden living there;
And he would wed her if be could.
And she could let him. if she would,
"Without ado or fuss,
Or high degree of rarity.
Their added ages are not great,
Yet, when computed separate,
A short half century between
His sixty years and her sixteen,
Howe'er it seems to us.
She deems too much disparity.
A potion learns he bow to mix
That will a man in ace transfix,
to never any oiaer prow
In vital vim or visual show:
One swallow Is enough
Of this ontpnt of alchemy.
But 'tis a bnmper that he tips
"With shaking hands to trembling lips.
"So baste tbe maiden's years," says be,
"Until she catches up to me"
And gulps quite all the stuff
Bo curious in chemistry.
Els overdose takes more effect
Than anyone conld well expect.
Phenomenally from that day
Time flies for him the other way,
And he. a man reversed.
Moves back toward juvenility.
His visage smoothes its wrinkles oat,
His joints forget rheumatic gout.
While one by one be riddance makes
Of olden crochets, qualms and quakes,
And by no ills accursed,
is jolly in agility.
When fourscore birthdays he can count
His age is ball tho right amount;
For it is plain to all concerned
His years to forty have returned.
While she is thirty-six
And not averse to marriage.
Although the time is come when he
By hearse conveyed to church should be,
He takes the ride another way,
Notruesomely, but blithe and gay;
Not in a funeral fix.
But in a bridal carriage.
The kind of retrograded life
That he is leading, while bis wife
Grows old as other people do.
Soon makes him younger of the two;
To turn himself about
He tries and fails teetotaily;
All doses counteractive lack
Effect upon bis set-aback.
N o drugs tbat he can blend will send
Him toward his normal latter end
His efforts past a doubt
Aro failures antidotally.
At length, together with his son.
He comes of ace at twenty-one.
And tnovintr backward through his teens.
He re-enacts bis youthful scenes
He is a boy once more.
And to his grandchild brotherly.
His wife, as he regains his past,
Acquires her future quite as fast;
Till he an urchin is at play.
And she a matron old aud gray;
The bridal pair r. f yore,
Get infantile andmotuerly.
"When added to her sweet sixteen
The signs of threescore more are seen,
This strancest of subtractive freaks
Brings sixty years to sixty weeks;
Ihey are unmated quite.
With each dear former tie awry,
let ""token bonds srive place to new,
And as we bid the two adieu.
In cradle and in rocking-chair
They are no inharmonious pair;
And for a fond good-night
They slug agoo and lullaby.
Fbank FTALL.
AN ENEMY AND A FRIEND.
The
President of Sorosls Takes
Dual
View ol Death.
Adam's act of disobedience not only
caused bis body to become corruptible, and
finally to return to the dust from which it
was taken, bnt through that act his soul be
came unfit to dwell in paradise; unfit to
walk among those living trees and beside
those four rivers of water. The Garden of
Eden remained unchanged, but he conld no
longer behold it He, created its
lord, designed to have dominion
over all things, is driven forth,
and the gateway guarded by Cherubim,
armed with swords of fire. The first Adam,
the living soul, is bound to a body destined
to perish. "Dying ye shall die" was the
penalty pronounced upon him. This is the
death which came into the world by "the
envy or the devil." This is the death with
which we should make no covenant. This
is the last enemy which has to be overcome.
The "adoption of the body" is the last vic
tory which is to be won over the flesh and
the devil.
To one whose life has been spent beside
living waters and beneath the olive tree,
shall not death come at last as the great de
liverer? The strong angel whose mission it
is to loose the silver cord and break the
golden bowl? If life is spent in waging
war against error in battling for truth, mav
not one hope to hear at the end "the soft
comforting song" that the pilgrim sang to
Sin tram:
Beath comes to set thee free;
Oh, meet bim cheerily
As thy true fiend.
And all thy fears shall cease,
And In eternal peace
Tby penance end.
Shall not such an one die, as we are told
by tradition tbat Moses did, from the kiss of
God? "This kiss a union of the soul with
the substance from which it emanated." Is
there not yet a greater triumph foretold in
the words, "We shall not all sleep, but we
shall be changed." Is there not a victory
yet to be won over the last enemy when this
mortal shall put on immortality without go
ing through the gateway of death, when
death is swallowed up in victory? So let me
write "The Song of Holy Death:"
Shall it be soon, sweet Lord?
Shall it be soonT
Fade now the stars away.
The sun, the moon.
Fade too; I only see Thy risen light,
I onlr see Thv face, than stars more briebt.
Links nowmy soul In death's entrancing swoon,
My brightest day
Floods with its splendor life's completestnoon.
Shall it be swift; dear friend:
Shall it be swtltT
The holy moment stay,
Or sword uplift
In ancel handsT I saw It flash and gleam
In swift fulfilment of my life's long dream
I thought to clasp at once the precious gift
It fades away.
Then flashes bright once more through cloudy
Is the day near, my Spouser
Is the day near?
My holy marriage dayT
Shall it appear
With Btreaks of light faint glimmering in the
eastT
Shall earth awake as to a dad new feast
Where not one eye shall shed a crystal tear,
Ivor one band lay '
A wieath of sorrow on my bridal bier?
Though it be far, dear Lord.
Though it be far,
Tet it shall surely come;
Bright luminous star
Of promise flash in my bine flrmament
The day is past, the night perchance far spent
The east is glowing with a crimson bar
Star, call me home
Through whirlwind, rushing steeds and flerr
car. Ella Dixtx Cltxes.
THE HOLLA'KDISCHE DAME.
TJB course lay up a smooth
canal
Throngh tracts ot velvet
green,
And through the
shade that
windml 1 Is
made,
And pastnre lands
between.
Tbe kins bad canvas
on their backs
To temper a u
tumn's spite.
And everywhere
there was an air
Of comfort and de
light. My wife, dear philo
sophic soull
Saw hers whereof to prate:
"Vain fools are we across the
sea
To boast ournobler state!
Go north or south or east or
west
) Or wheresoe'er you please,
CNsi vTob shall not find what's here
combined
Equality and easel
"How tidy are these honest
homes
In every part and nook
The menfolk wear a pros
perous air,
The women bappy look.
Seeing the peace that smiles
around,
I would our land were
such
Think as you may, Fm free
to say
I would we were the
Dutchr'
Just then we overtook a boat
(The Golden Tulip hlehD
Big with the weight of mot
ley freight,
It was a goodly sight)
Meynheer van Blarcom sat
on deck.
With pipe in lordly pose.
And with his son of twenty
one He played at dominoes.
vp
fa?
mmzt
Then quoth my wife: "How
fair to see
This sturdy, honest man
Beguile all pain and lust of
gain
With whatso joys he can;
Methinks his spouse is down
below
Beading a kerchief gay
A babe, mayhap, lolls in her
lap,
In the good old Milky Way.
"Where in the land
whence we ramn
from
Is there content like this-.
Where such disdain of sordid
gain.
Such sweet domestlo bliss?
A homespun woman L this
land
Delights me overmuch
Think as you will and argue
still
I like the honest Dutch!"
And then my wife mido
end of speech
Her voice stuck in
her throat,
For, swinging around
the turn, we found
"What motor moved
the boat;
Hitched up in towpath
harness there
Wasneitherhorsenor
cow.
But the buxom frame
of a Hollandische
dame
Meynheer van Blar
cotn's Iran.
Eugene Field, in Chi.
eago tfewi.
OSTRICHES IN AMERICA.
The Bird Brought to California Fopular
Errors Dispelled.
Et. Nicholas.
There are certain old traditions about the
ostrich which, I have been told by the
owner of the California ranch, are falla
cious. He says that the ostrich does
not bury his head in the sand
and imagine he is unobserved by his
enemies. On the contrary, he is a very
pugnacious bird and always ready for a
light. Nor does the female ostrich lay her
eggs in the sand for tbe sun to hatch them.
To do them justice, they are quite domestic,
and deserve a better reputation. Nor is the
ostrich ever used for riding, as he has an
exceptionally weak back; any person might
break it with a blow from any ordinary
cane.
The 22 birds brought to our California
ranch trusted to their instinct and laid their
eggs during the California winter, which
corresponded to their summer south of the
equator. It being the rainy season, their
nests were filled with water and the eggs
were chilled; so the.first season of their
American sojourn was a failure. The
ostrich makes its nest by rolling in
the sand and scooping out a hole about six
feet in diameter.and, excepting an incubator
house, the California ranch requires no
buildings for the use of the birds, though
the land is divided off into pens fenced In,
each about an acre in extent, for tbe use or'
tbe breeding birds, every pair occupying
one such inclosure.
The ostriches live upon alfalfa and corn.
Alfalfa is a grass cultivated all over the
ranch; it resembles our clover, and grows
to a crop six times a year.
PAGAN BOB FINED.
When
He Wanted tbo Court to Lend It
Relented.
New York Herald.
Colonel Robert G. Ingersoll would never
be suspected of being a respecter of persons,
for he has such a free aud easy way of dis
coursing upon religious matters. His legal
protege was Judge Puterbaugh, then a judge
of the Circuit Court at Peoria, 111. Upon
one occasion, while the judge was en
gaged in fining a spectator for contempt of
court, Ingersoll offered some gratuitous ad
vice, which was resented with some show of
indignation. Ingersoll retaliated by hint
ing that when the Court was fishing in a
political way after the ermine he had not
been so chary about accenting advice. This
warmed the old man up in earnest,and he at
once imposed upon the presumptuous advo
cate a fined f 10 and costs. Ingersoll fumbled
in his pockets lor a moment, then walked up
to the oar with outstretched hand and said:
"Puterbaugh, lend me $101" The stern
expression ot the Court never relaxed for an
instant Turning to the clerk he said:
"Mr. Clerk, let the record show that Mr,
Ingersoll's fine is remitted. Peoria county-
-
J
can better attorn to low ?iu than x can.
JSP
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irxXuzHjjfrjjjjf " 3?l
Trllwfffilr'f'W'.
J' a ('
i
AGE OFJTHE GBOOM.
Bessie Bramble's Idea of When Men
Should Take Their Brides.
LUCK IK LEISURE A GOOD ADAGE.
Lessons From the Lives of Great Men of This
and Other Times.
WHEN MAI WEDS BLEAK DECEMBER
rWSITTXK TOE TUX PI8M.TCK.1
The papers and magazines for a long time
have been harping upon the subject of "At
"What Age Shall Girls Marry?" and since
there appears to be no concern manifested as
to the other party in the transaction of mar
riage, it would seem as if the "beloved
brethren" had either been neglected or over
looked. It may, perhaps, have been a fore
gone conclusion as we gather from the
many given opinions upon the matter of the
bride's age that man has all seasons for his
own in marriage; that he can safely and
happily marry whether young and green,
staid and middle-aged, or old and well
stricken in years, as he is so constantly doing
in daily experience.
A wise man of old made answer to the
question of when a man should marry: "A
young man not yet, an elder man notatall;"
and Socrates, more famous as a philosopher,
said oat of the depths of his experience:
"Let a man take which course he will, be
will be sure to repent." The sonorous Dr.
Johnson, who married a widow older than
himself and, as described a homely no
bodygives comfort and courage to his
fellow men by telling them tbat "Marriage
is the best state for men in general, and
every man is a worse man in pro
portion, as he is unfit for
the married state, and that though matri
mony may have some pain, celibacy has few
pleasures." He, moreover, adds that "mar
riage is the strictest tie of perpetual friend
ship, and there can be no friendship with
out confidence, and no confidence without
integrity, aud be must expect to be wretched
who pays to riches or beauty that regard
which only virtue can claim."
SOME QUESTIONABLE EVIDENCE.
Johnson's marriage at 27 seems to have
been his first streak of luck, for with his
wife he received a small fortune, and found
in her a fond and faithful companion and
friend. Addison, however, has said sweeter
and more charming things of marriage than
eVen Johnson, bat he did not marry until
over 40, and then, as related, his marriage
of rank and wealth proved to be, as Thack
eray calls it, "a splendid and dismal union,"
or in other words, a failure. Lord Bacon
has written learnedly on the married and
single state, and his remarks tbat "wife and
children are a discipline to humanity," that
"he that hath wife and children hath given
hostages to fortune,for they are impediments
to great enterprises either of virtue or
mischief," and that "unmarried men are
best friends, best masters, best servants, but
not best subjects," are often qnoted as most
reasonable and prolound. But as he de
ferred marriage until the age of 45 and
then married a woman beneath him in rank
for the purpose alone of securing her money,
of which the law gave him every penny, it
is plain that his views were not founded
upon, or modified much by, his own per
sonal experience.
Milton's marriage at the age of 35 to a
bright young wife whom be treated so
harshly that she left him and went home to
her parents, gave the text for his "Essays on
Divorce," in which he showed not only the
mettle of his mind, bat his low opinion of
women as well. That he was a tyrant in
his own house, and inspired the hatred of
his wives and daughters seems plain from
history, but tbat he rather enjoyed the
marriage state, where he conld rule and
reign and put all things under his feet, is
proved by the fact that he married three
times.
PLEASING TESTIMONY.
John Stnart Mill, the eminent philosopher
and writer on political economy, was not
married until be was 44, when he wedded a
widow of about the same age, or perhaps
older. His married life was an exceedingly
happy one, as he himselt records, and per
haps no greater praise for helpfulness, sweet
companionship, endearing friendship or
noble qualities of head and heart has any
woman ever received from the written
words of her husband than did the wife of
John Stnart Mill. Lord Beaconsfield,
who cut such a large figure in
English politics within the last half
century, mariied when he was 34,
and the proof that bis wedded life was full
of love, constancy, friendship and all that
goes to make a union as near to the ideal of
happiness as human lives can get is fur
nished by his own testimony as to his in
debtedness to her for inspiration and her
worth as a wife and faithfulness as a friend.
Gladstone, one of his most brilliant cotem
poraries in Parliament, entered the holy
estate of matrimony at 30, and his married
life, of which the world hears much, is a
success far beyond the common. Robert
Browning became the husband of Elizabeth
Barrett at the age of 32, while she was seven
years older; and yet theirs was a marriage
of true minds and poetic souls, and, as all
accounts go, an exceptionally happy one.
Shakespeare married at 19, and his ex
perience would go far to prove that early
marriages are not desirable. Dickens and
Thackeray both became benedicts at the age
of 26, and their homes are not Bach pictures
of doniestio felicity as will redeem their
wedded lives from the stamp of failure.
A SIN 07 OMISSION.
"When we survev the history of the men
of our country to find in them a sort of idea
as to the age at which men should marry,
we are met at the outset with the remarkable
fact that in their biographical sketches, as
given in the standard works, their mar
riage or their wives have not been consid
ered worthy of mention. Even Emerson,
one of the most noted of American philos
ophers and authors, is written up without a
word to indicate that he had ever had a wife
to divide his sorrows or double his joys, or a
home, where he had to get up in the morn
ing and light the fire. Longfellow, who, if
we remember correctly, was married twice,
is not credited With a wife and family, al
though tbe dates of his graduation and of
his trip to Europe are duly given. Haw
thorne, whose married life, as chronicled by
his children and friends, was an ideally
happy one, has neither his marriage
nor his wife recorded in the stand
ard book of reference, though the
date of the publication of his books is given,
and tbe fact that Franklin Pierce was a
most valuable iriend is set forth. Oliver
"Wendell Holmes and James Russell
Lowell, it may also be interred, married
nobodies, since their wives, or even the fact
that they married at all, find no mention in
their biographical sketches. Although
Charles Sumner, Ben Butler and other men
of Massachusetts are supposed to have been
married, yet in the record of their lives is
found no mention of any such small oc
currence. Considering these omissions, it is
no wonder there is such a howl in the
Plymouth Eock State over "the forgotten
woman."
SOME EXAMPLES LEFT TJS,
However, for the instruction and example
of the young men oi to-day it is well to
know that Washington did not rush into
marriage at the gushing sentimental age,
but waited until he was 29, and then ju
diciously married a woman with an im
mense fortune, with whom he passed a most
pleasant and happy life. "Martha," as ap
pears, did give him a "going over"
occasionally, but this only famished
a spice of variety to the
smooth sweetness of their delightful country
lire at Mt. Vernon. Jefferson likewise mar
ried at 29. His wife was also possessed of
great estates and large wealth. Their minds
were congenial and their union is one of the
happiest on record. "When. Abigail Adams
became his bride, John Adams was 29, and,
muugu mejr ubu uie usp.81 trials ana iron-
hies, end she was the first strong-minded
though they had the usual trials and trou
woman in America who made bold to ask
for suffrage for women before the Declara
tion of Independence was signed or the Con
stitution was adopted, their union was akin
to tbat of Eden in its bliss. Andrew Jack
son was married at 25 to a divorced woman,
and yet he had a larger share of
domestic happiness, according to his own
account, than falls to the lot of most men.
3he was a plain woman, with no style about
her as might be said now, but sbe suited
Jackson, and he loved and admired her de
votedly to ber latest day. He had no hap
pier, brighter davs than those he snent with
ber in their old home in Tennessee, where,
in company, they smoked contentedly their
corn-cob pipes, amid the country comforts
of the "Hermitage." Henry Clay married
at 22 and Daniel Webster at 26. Both mar
riages were full of love and affection.
OBANT AND LINCOLN.
General Grant was taken prisoner by
Cupid at 26, and owing to his lack of cash
in their early days, be and his wife had a
pretty hard struggle to keep the wolf from
the door. But though he did not strike his
gait toward fame and fortune until be got
Into the army, love survived the cottage
and the tannery and poverty, and his domestic-
life was to all appearance most felic
itous. As the story of his life is told by his
friends ana biographers, Lincoln's marriage
might be set down as a failure as far as bis
happiness was concerned. At the age of 33
he was united to an ambitions woman, but
one who was not his match in taste, temper
ament or character. Discord and nuhappi
ness made his home a sad one, and marked
his brow with carfcing care. Even when he
had reached the summit ot his ambition, his
lite, with its vast weight of responsibilities
ana arduous public duties, was darkened
and saddened, not only by the cloud of war,
but by domestic infelicities behind the
scenes.
One of the worst things about early mar
riages for men is the fact tbat the fancy of a
young man is most frequently caught by the
pretty, giddy, empty-headed girl, brilliant
in the ballroom, gifted with the gab and
possessed of the art to fool a man with
flattery. If, before his mind has grown or
his judgment has seasoned, he mar
ries her, he thus signs the warrant for
his own unhappiness and the tragedy of
a mismarriage. Life is full ot such
mistakes men of great powers and noble
achievements united to dull and brainless
women, whom they married in their youth
for beauty, which is now resolved into stu
pidity.and women of intellect and culture,
who live sad and solitary lives in a union
with soulless clods or selfish boors, whom
they married in the first rosy flash of love's
yoang dream as heroes and as kings
poetically speaking.
A CASE OF HIT OB MISS.
Love-matches, says aj philosopher, are
usually unhappy, and it must be because
they are entered into hastily,, unadvisedly
and without proper cousideration. If per
chance they happen to hit they are all right,
but if, as so often occurs, they miss, the re
sult is disastrous. Early marriages some
times prove to be quite as fortunate and
felicitous as those contracted when time bas
given judgment, and common sense tempers
ardent love into careful consideration of
pros and cons, but neither man nor woman
should marry until well assured that the
love of the present will not turn into sad
repentance as the years go by. An early
marriage is full of poetry and romance just
at first, bnt words would fail to tell how
prosy it becomes when the fond young lovers
having "settled down" and gone to house
keeping find that things are not what they
seem.
That there is lack in leisure has been dis
covered by many people who never cease to
congratulate themselves on having missed
their first love. "If I had married the man
to whom I was engaged at 18, 1 should have
been the wretchedest woman alive," said a
lady not a hundred miles off, who has a
husband to be proud of, and a home fall of
comfort. "When I look at the creature
now. whom I loved with fierv. untamed de
votion then, I can never be thankful enough
to my good old father for preventing my
making a fool of myself and wrecking mv
life."
The weight of opinion and experience Is
opposed to early marriages. Even those
who have married young, and had good for
tune, do not desire their children to
follow their example. The general
sentiment of women, as expressed
even by those who have married much
younger with notable success, is in favor ot
25 years as the proper age for a bride, to
which might be added that from 25 to 30 is
the most suitable for both men and women,
and the nearer they are to the same age the
better. But, after all, the age in marriage
is not of so much importance as that the con
tract should be well understood and faith
fully and honestly carried out on both sides.
Some men there are who fondly flatter
themselves that at any age they are fit com
panions for wives however young, but the
precedents and testimony are against any
such assumption. When May weds Decem
ber she is likely to encounter a winter of
discontent though her count of cash may be
sustained, oucn bargain and sale is
leniently looked upon by society, bat when
a masculine May weds a feminine De
cember tben the Grnndies howl and
the gossips furiously rage together. But
why? One case is not a whit worse than
the other. In fact, coolly considered, the
chances of happiness are better in the latter
than in the lormer. Baroness Bnrdette
Coutts, in her mellow sixties, wedded a
young man, and their life together flows
smoothly on without a ripple, as far as the
world knows. George 'Eliot, at 60, married
a man 20 years younger, and no husband
could have been more devoted. But the
chances ol winning a prize in marriage are
more in favor of equality than in disparity
ot age. Bessie Bbamblk.
ATOUIHFDIi FINANCIER.
A Boy Wbo Conducts Financial Operation!
of Considerable Magnitude.
New York Star.
Foreigners have formed an impression
that American children are precocious.
Perhaps that is so. At all events, there is
no better instance of early development
that could be cited than in the case of Dave
Morris, 17 years old and young
est son of John A. Morris, the
projector of the New York Jockey
Club. Master Dave is an expert with tbe
violin, and was at one time devoted to ama
teur photography, but when I met him the
other mornine on his way to his lawyer's
office, he assumed all the dignity of a man of
affairs. It was not long ago that he asked
his father lor a check for $100,000, and, on
explaining that he wished to study invest
ments, hereceived it.
Now he diligently seans the money arti
cles of the ereat dailies, consults at the
breakfast table with his father about Bock
Island extension 4s and New York Central
debentures, while bis lawyer is instructed
to keep him informed ot gilt-edged applica
tions lor loans on bond and mortgage.
Young Mr. Morris tells me that he bas made
but few mistakes, and his father believes
tbat his indulgence will teach his son the
value of money better than a long appren
ticeship in a banker's office.
HOW TO SEUTE WINES.
Bales Covering tbe Classic Theory for tho
Dinner Hour.
New York World.l
The classic, theory of serving wines at a
dinner is the following:
Immediately after the soup dry white
wines are offered, such as French wines,
Marsala, sherry, Madeira, dry Syracuse, etc
"With the fish dry white wines are also
served. "With oysters Chablis Is preferred.
"With releves of butcher's meat and warm
entrees red wines Burgundy or Bordeaux.
With cold entrees and other cold pieces
fine white wines are served.
"With tbe roost come the fine Bordeaux or
champagne wines, or both. "With the en
trements, champagne alone. "With the des
sert, liqueur wines, such as Erontignan,
Lunel, Alicante, Malvoise, port, Tokay,
Lacrlma-Christi, etc.
The red' wines ought to be drank at a tem
perature of about 6S Fahrenheit. "White
peraiureoi auoiu uu .cauronueil.
wines should always be served cold.
DEPEf Qg ORATOR!
The Great After-Dinner Talker Tells
How He Gels Up 8peecb.es.
8ECEET0P W. H. SEWARD'S SUCCESS
An Instance of Eoscoe Conkling's Remark
able Gift of Memory.
EFFECT OF HUHOE CPON AH ADDEES3
icoEiiispoicDiircx or thx DisrTcs.i
New Yoek, February 1, No other man
in America, and probably no man in the
world, makes as many public speeches as
Chauncey M. Depew. His great popularity
as a speaker is due as much to the bumor
which he puts into his addresses as to the
iueas wnicn tney contain ana tne oratorical
effect with which they are delivered. The
description which the preacher, Spurgeon,
applied to Henry "Ward Beecher would
fit him: He is a myriad-minded man. It
is as easy for him to make a speech as it is
to carry on an ordinary conversation. The
bright side of life is the one he looks on,
and to that fact is due the nnction of his
words when on the rostrum. Few profes
sional or business men have greater duties to
perform. He is a rapid worker and a rapid
thinker. Otherwise, he could never find
time to talk in public. "While he is work
ing ideas are tumbling into his mind that
reappear in his speeches and make people
wonder where he gets hold of all the won
derful things that he repeats to tbem.
Your correspondent asked him for his
ideas of oratory and orators. To the in
quiry which opened the conversation, he re
plied: "Can any man with a good voice and the
requisite intelligence become a successful
public speaker? I answer, no. He mast
have a special gifr. He may be a brilliant
writer and have a fine voice and
an excellent memory, and yet be un
able to put things in a way to
hold and interest an audience. I once knew
a preacher who wrote admirable sermons and
had one of the best stored and most logical
minds. He subjected himself to the most
frightful mortification in an indomitable
effort to learn to speak extemporaneously,
and, after trying for 25 years, informed me
one night, alter having an empty hall, that
he thought he grew worse instead of better.
HOW HE PEEP ABES SPEECHES.
"In talking with people who make good
speeches, I find that the majority of them
prepare their speeches very slowly. They
take from three days to a week in making
up each speech. In fact, I have known
some of the most eminent men to take two
and three months to prepare an oration.
However, as I speak nearly every day, if I
undertook to do this I should have to aban
don business altogether. As a rule, when I
am to speak in the evening, I prepare
my speech after leaving my office, which
is anywhere from 4 to 6 o'clock. I
make no notes except mental ones. My
speecn at tne noiiana ainner, tor instance,
was prepared after 6 o'clock. The next
morning at 10 o'clock, after having ridden
all eight, I delivered before the Senate
committee in "Washington my argument in
favor of New York a3 the location for the
"World's Fair in 1892. This argument was
thought out the day before, but I had made
no written notes. The same evening I spoke
for 45 minutes at the reception given by
Congressmen Flower and Belden to the
"World's Fair delegates, and gave
no other thought to the speech
than to hang on to one sentence until
I could think of the next At the Chamber
or Commerce dinner, I began the prepara
tion of my speech just as the speaking
started. I had not been notified until then
tbat a Bpeech was expected from me. My
speech at the St Nicholas dinner was tier-
pared while on my way to it in a Fifth
avenue stage, and in the hour before I was
called upon after I got there,
HOW SEWAED PEEP ABED SPEECHES.
"Having made a study of the methods of
most of the great orators, I find that very
few have ever permitted themselves to
speak unless they had time to care
tally prepare, revise and commit to memory
their speeches. William H. 8eward, who
was the most finished and eloquent speaker
of his period, told me that he never
allowed himself to make a public
address unless he had written it
out and committed it to . memorv.
"One reading, however, fastened it in his
mind. I have no verbal memorv mvself.
and I must either speak without notes or
read my speech. Henry J. Raymond told
me a story illustrative of Mr. Seward''
methods. It was while Mr. Seward was
Secretary of Scate in Johnson's cabinet.
He was on his way from "Washington to his
borne in Auburn, N, Y and stopped at tbe
Astor House. He sent to the Times office
for Mr. Baymond, and requested him to
have a man from the paper at Auburn to re
port a speech which he was to deliver there.
The best reporter on the paper, of course,
was sent On arrival, the man could not
find that any meeting had been advertised.
He went to Mr. Seward's house. Mr.
Seward told him to sit down, and then pro
ceeded to dictate a speech. That speech
was rewritten no less than six times. It was
delivered to a few friends, and was the next
day printed in every paper in the United
States, and stands in Mr. Seward's works as
the most polished and eloquent of his pro
ductions. CONKLING'S WONDEBFUI, MEMOBT.
"Eoscoe Conkling had a remarkable mem
ory. John C. Beid, managing editor of the
New York Timet, followed him with printed
slips when he made his great speech occupy
ingour hours, at the Academy of Music,
in tne uarneia campaign. Air. Keid told
me that Mr. Conkling neither interpolated
or omitted a word in the entire speech.
Edward Everett and the old Boston school
of orators first elaborately prepared their
speeches and committed them to memory.
Then they practiced not only the enuncia
tion bnt tbe gesticulation before
a looking glass, so that to
the audience the speech was not
alone a finished literary production, but the
delivery was an admirable piece of acting.
A local flavor and an extemporaneous ap
pearance were furnished by the interpola
tion of an account, also care ully rehearsed,,
of some recent incident at the place where
the speech was delivered. This method of
preparation made the speech ot tbat period
the classic of tbe school book. It is the
rarest thing now to find tbe speeches of any
of the orators of this generation in the
books from which the mture Clays and
Vebsters are learning upon the academic
stage, listening Senators to command.
THE AFTEB-DINNEB OBATION.
The man who attempts to deliver a speech
of a historical, commemorative or national
character, should carefully prepare it in ad
vance. The man who is compelled to speak
often upon a great variety of subjects and
on occasions of widely diversified import
ance should acquire the habit of being able
to draw at will and on short notice upon bis
entire knowledge of the subject in hand, or
else he should abandon tbat branch of in
tellectual activity. A good deal of
chaff and ridicule is cast upon
the after-dinner orator, and tbe
question is more or less playfully discussed
whether the speaker talks best before or
alter dinner, or without any dinner. The
dinner is in no sense any part of tbe Intel
lectual exercise or tbe speaker except, if he
takes too much, it will clog the mind. But
the after-dinner platiorm is now the
only one in this country that allows
free and unrestrained diseussion of
every character, which interests
the State, tbe Church and society. At the
Jackson and Lincoln anniversary banquets
the politics for the year are formulated. At
the commercial banquetsthe merchants give
expression to the condition of trade. At tbe
various college reunion dinners' the subject
of education is brought before the whole
country. In the great cities the clergymen
of different denominations have monthly
dinners in the interest of church work.
HTJMOB IN A SPEECH.
"The after-dinner orator may, undercover
of the special privileges and the hospitali-"
ties of the occasion, and with a slight in
fusion of humor as a sugar coat, speak bis
mind and ventilate his views and utter criti
cisms, and generally administer the truth
in large doses as he would be permitted to
do nowhere else. "With an American audi
ence no speech sticks nnless there is some
humor it "With an English audience
humor creates a suspicion that the speaker
may bechaffing or is insincere. The reason
is thatin one case the audience catches on,
while in the other the humor may be so
taken as to give a reverse impression from
the one intended.
"My first speech was delivered at a Re
publican meeting in Peekskill, N. Y., my
native place, a week after I had graduated
from Yale. I had become a Republican on
tbe slavery question at Yale. My lather
and his brothers and their entire families
were Democrats. The change in one mem
berof a family so pronounced and active in
their political affiliations created great ex
citement in the town, and led my hard
headed Dutch father to say: 'If you have a
promising son, ot whose luture you expect
to be proud, and you want to make a d d
iool of him, send him to a Yankee college.'
SEPEW'S FIRST SPEECH.
"George "William Curtis was announced
to speak at this meeting, but be failed to ar
rive. I was called out simply to give pub
licity to the fact that a convert had
been made in onr family. To my own sur
prise, and everybody else's, I spoke for an
hour and a half. Two days afterward, tbe
State Committee sent me a flattering pro
posal to go on the stump, and that was the
beginning of what now promises to con
tinue. "The man wbo eats much or drinks much
cannot make a good speech. Tbe old-time
orator neither ate nor drank for hoars before
speaking. When Henry "Ward Beecher was
going to speak in the evening, he generally
took a class of milk and a piece of bread
about 5 o'clock.
riZZ 07 THE CHAMPAGNE.
""When I speak at a banquet, I eat the
same as if I were at home, but 1 am careful
about the wine. I drink only champagne
aud not much of that The fizz is a mild
stimulant for me and accelerates the
thoughts. The Btory that Daniel
Webster could only make a great
speech when full of brandy, and
which is universally believed, has
sent thousands of young lawyers and clergy
men to drunkards' graves. Very hard
drinkers, after a time, can do nothing at all
except under the influence of stimulants,
but unless a man is a confirmed drunkard
the more liquor he takes the muddier his
thoughts."
"My funny stories are made up from inci
dents in my everyday life, with a change of
characters and an invention of dialogue to
fit whatever they are intended to illustrate."
H.L&
W(MS OP THE DESTISr.
In a
Confiding Moment lie Telia
Borne
Recrets of His Office.
Boston Globe.l
"A man might as well be a hangman as a
dentist, as far as expecting any gratitude for
his services," remarked an aggrieved mem
ber of that unappreciated profession to
a Globe reporter. "I have worked for
hours over a back filling in a woman's
mouth where I had to nearly dislocate my
neck and tie my backbone into a bowknot,
and at the end, if I ventured to straighten
up with a sigh of relief, I have been re
warded with a stony glare of indignant
condemnation.
"A woman will stand more pain than a
man, for a woman has an inborn instinct of
showing herself to tbe best advantage," he
continued. "A rubber dam or a mouth
stretched tq its utmost capacity are not con
ducive to personal beanty, and therefore a
woman will not add the farther disfigure
ment of lack of courage.
"I had rather a funny experience the other
day with an old darkey who wanted a tooth
nulled. His face was elaboratelv tied ud in
red flannel and his expression was the em
bodiment of woe. The tooth was a hard one
to handle, and just as I gave it the final
yank he gave a prolonged howl and fairly
shot himself through the open window,
out on to the shed roof beneath. He
rolled over this roof still howling, and
finally dropped from it to the ground all
doubled up like a black rubber ball. All
this instead of hurting him served to help
his case, for he picked himselt up and
walked off apparently sound in wind and
limb and quite regardless of the fact that
he had not paid me. v
"I had a man once give me more than I
wanted for pulling his tooth. He was a big,
strapping fellow, and I tbousfct the tooth
would never come. The forceps slipped off
three times, bat the fourth time J clinched
it. The man never moved or made a sound
until the tooth came out, when he doubled
up his fist and landed a blow on my chest
that slapped me up against tbe wall as flat
as a lump of putty. Tben be took his hat
and stalked out, without waiting to see
whether I ever got my breath again or not"
SOMETHING ABOUT KAME3.
Bemnrkablo Coincidences Recalled br the
Deatb of Adam Forepangb.
Philadelphia Inquirer.
The death ol Adam Forepaugh will recall
tbe frequency with which this city bas sap
plied Illustrations of the curious adaptation
of surnames to business occupation. The
explanation usually found for such fitness
is that a great many names were originally
derived from occupations, and the number
of snch names is so great that, after all, it is
not remarkable that some modern Smith
should return to the occupation of the
founder of his family.
But that the bearer of the name Fore
paugh and the owner of a menagerie should
be combined in the same person cannot be
explained in this way. Nor will it account
for the equally striking adaptation of
tbe nameto tbe profession of tbat famous
Philadelphia physician, Dr. Philip
Syng Physick. 'it does not explain
how Prof. Hartshome came to be a
physician. The ex-President of Select
Council. Mr. Lex. is a lawyer, as his father
was before bim. and the same name trans
lated from the Latin into English has been
borne by another Philadelphia lawyer. The
directory of any large city will furnish a
great many similar instances, but not often
where tbe persons have attained the promi
nence of those mentioned.
MRS. GUEEIiEY'S PATIENCE.
An Instance In Wnlch Placid Horace
Pressed It Too Par.
New York Herald.
There are an endless number of stories
hinging upon the peculiarities of tbe late
Horace Greeley, most of them having to do
with his penmanship. But we know
next to nothing of his home life
and what Mrs. Greeley did with
tbe great journalist While living at Cbap-
Eaqua, be formed the habit of taking guests
ome with bim unexpectedly, and, as may
naturally be supposed, much to tbe annoy
ance of bis wife. Thackeray told with glee
hovt he walked into the parlor after the
placid Horace, and how the journalist tried
to assure a pleasant welcome by greeting
bis better half with an effusive smile.
He had no sooner dropped his hat on the
center table than she picked it up and
threw it out of the window, thus mildly ex
pressing her disgust Having eased her
mind she saluted the distinguished guest
with becoming gravity aod all was well
Insnrnncr Asrnlnst Cyclones.
St. Louis Poit-UUpstch. J
Tbe recent cyclone caused a wild rush of
people to insurance offices to have cyclone
clauses inserted in their policies. Of course
Insurance companies very readily granted
the request, as it means money tor them
which is clear profit Storms like that of
last Sunday seldom visit St Louis, yet when
they do come other people have gotten over
the fright and neglected to have the clause
added.
PEACE OE EUROPE.
I - SSI J
The Two Republics the Only Nations
Beallj Opposed to War, ;
BUT HO 0HE WILL STRIKE A BLOW.
Tne Danger Comes From Germany, bat Bis,
Has Too Many Enemies.
FBAHCB WAS BETRAIED TO PKDSSIA
IwmnJt.N ros thx dispatch.!
There will be no war between France and
Germany until the Teutons march again on
Gauls, and, in my opinion, it will be the
great German Empire that will bring on the
horrors of war in Europe whenever that
terrible event occurs. Spring always
brings its rnmorsof war and this year the
fate of nations is suspended by threads so
fragile that the least breath may break
them. A year or so ago the peace
of Europe was linked to the fail
ing life of an old man; then next
it depended on the flickering ex
istence of a doomed invalid; and when ha
died power came to a yoang man, ardent
and badly adviied in most things. In my
opinion there are two peoples in Europe,
and two only, who do not desire war, and
these two are France and Switzerland. Two
nations only, whatever may he theviva'city
of political contentions, in their respective
districts have absolute security for the mor
row, and strangely enough those two are
the only republics there are in the Old
World. Everywhere else is uncertainty.
England with her Irish struggles has lo3t
her domestic peace, and what with Russia
giving her disquietude in the East, the Gov
ernment of Great Britain seems painfully
anxious to go to war even if it be with the
weakest power of Europe. Revolt is immi
nent at every point of her colonial Empire,
and steam and steel ships have killed her
maritime superiority. The decadence has
begun in England.
Belgium, given up to religious quarrels,
looks with torture toward the East whence
comes the blustering threat of Germany.
Holland hangs on the fragile life of an old
man and a little child. Mutilated Den
mark, with a dangerous conflict between
Parliament and royalty, still weakens,
knows not whether it ought to dread or
desire alliances. Sweden, in conflict with
Norway, remains silent Spain, with empty
treasury, ever placed between royalist in
surrection and republican pronnnciamento,
has one desire only, that of preserving
peace and keeping her baby King on his
throne.
GEB3IANY'S natt enemies.
Germany, Austria and Italy, under pre
text of an alliance for peace, make the
nations fear. Of these Austria and Italy
are passive, so that Germany is the all-important
power. There remains Russia with
her millions of soldiers. Perhaps the at
tack might come thence if she were ready.
But Russia is weak financially, and Ger
many, knowing this, defends herself by try
ing to ruin the finances of Russia more than
ever. For Germany, strong as she is, and
ambitions as is her yoang Emperor, dreads
war, she has so many enemies. Europe
carries Germany upon her shoulders and.
the Empire is a heavy burden to bear. All
Europe is exhausted in. armaments, in mili
tary expenses, and it is the German Empire
that compels each nation thus to arm itself.
There is where the danger lies, and that
day when, having succumbed to- military
impositions, unable longer to increase her
forces, and beholding failure and decay ap
proach, Germany, seeing herself too tightly
pressed, may play ber last trump card, but
not before. It is not for this year, but it
may be for tbe year to come.
PB0GBES3 IN WAR
Apropos of this eternal problem that pre
sents itself with each new year, it has otten
been said that by dint of perfecting weapons
of combat and constantly increasing the
destructive power of the engines ot war, the
final result will be the slaying of war itself.
It is possible, but not at all likely. The
fact is that in our days tbat military virtue
par excellence called courage counts for
little in the success of battle; it is
no longer courage which decides the vic
tory. To sit upon a horse smokinst a cigar
never to receive a scratch and direct that
cities shall be fired, populations driven to
madness, old men and women and young
children be buried under ruins, this is the
generalship that will win future battles. It
is called making war on a grand scale, and
I should think tbat civilization would rise
up indignant and pat a stop to it forever.
FEANCE NOT SQTIABELT BEATEN.
Besides war is nearly always waged for
some sordid purpose, and what makes it
more to be despised is the shameful way in
which victories are obtained. I do not
think that France was fairly vanquished in
herheroio struggle against the invading
Prussians. She was betrayed and that most
basely. Marshal Bazaine at Met and
Napoleon at Sedan, surrendered them
selves voluntarily, abandoned everything'
and gave over into the hands of the enemy
a force almost as great as the army to
which they surrendered. Then the inex
plicable retreats when French forces were
masters of the- ground and the Germans
were actually fleeing. No, I do not believe
that the French were fairly vanquished.
As for the Anglo-Ezyptian War, it is a
matter of public notoriety tbat General
Wolseley owed all his successes to tbe gold
be scattered in the camp of Arab! Pasha.
Knowing that the sending oi bullets into
the Egyptian camp would not help him.
"Wolseley sent Bank of England notes and
gold in boxes. ,
Every feeling of loyalty and honor is not
extinguished in Europe, and I like to think
that respect for justice is dominant in tho
consciences of men. I know that it is so
with Frenchmen; and it is became I am so
firmly convinced of French honor tbat I be
lieve there will be no war in the springtime.
The people ot the Third Eepublio are not
satisfied to have Alsace and Lorraine left as
a part of the German Empire, but they aro
by no means desirous yet awhile of going to
war to recapture those provinces.
Henbt Hatnie.
GOBfcLIS TAPESTKL
Little of It la Genuine A Cartons Bit of
IlUtorr.
Et. Louis Post-Dispatch.
Real gobelin tapestry is hard to find in the
drygoods stores. Much is sola as gobelin
tapestry that is not genuine. Gobelin has
quite a history, and gave a new word to our
vocabulary. A Flemish painter named
Gluck found a process for dyeing a
beautiful and a very peculiar scar
let, and sold it to Giles Gobelin,
who built a factory in France, where
be made tapestries and cloths of this pe
culiar color. Everybody looked on him as
a crank, and his factory was always spokes
of as "Gobelin's folly," but be made a go .
of It and his success was so great tbat those
superstition old folks supposed he was
aided by the devil. The devil was supposed
to have taught him tbe art of dyeing scar
let on condition tbat at a certain time the
devil was to have him.
When the time was up the devil came
after bim, and canght him going through a
yard at night with a little piece of lighted
candle in his hand. Gobelin begged lor
time, but the devil wouldn't let him have it
At last Gobelin requested bis satanlo
majesty to wait until the bit of candle in his.
hand burned out and the devil consented.
The wily old Gobelin, as soon as he got
this concession,threw the candle into the well
and pitched tbe dlvil in after it Tbe devil
was very angrv, but before he conld get oat
Gobelin gathered a guard of enthusiasts
about him and secured himself from ny,,
further attacks.
Now, for the new word. From this story
came the word "goblin." a ehost or suecter.
and It bas become one of the words ot the
language, but It had its origin in the silly
story tbat was told about the maa'who first
made these tapestries. ,-;.
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