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18
THE PITTSBURG- DISPATCH. SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 1890.
with dust and well nigh suffocated. Some
what appeased by his abject appearance and
by the hard exercise consequent on tbe
handling they had given him, tbecrowd
now returned the unlucky man to his own
house. Here they forced him upon his own
bed, and tied him thereupon with strips of
the coverlets tiil he lav bound hand and
foot
"Lie there," shouted a merry voice, "till
you have learned what it is like to be bed
ridden, and arise not till she whom you
have wronged shall have the mind to tree
you! If the maiden taketh our advice she
wiil let you stay when we do leave you for
this many a dav to come!"
"With this the people departed, leaving
the thoroughly subjugated Pharisee to the
mercy of his women.
low, among the happy marvels crowding
the blind man's experience in these wonder
tul days, certain circumstances may have
interest for those who are inclined by nature
to view a wonder alwavs from its natural or
scientific side. Many curious incidents
befell Baruch in the first use of his eyesight
Common objects had phenomenal propor
tions for him.
"What manner of man is this ?"he asked,
when he lilted his eyes to the olive-tree of
Bethany. The sight of the mountain-top
covered him with perplexity. He said that
he had thought it like a timbrel, but this
was like a trumpet At the view of the
great Desert of Judea, Baruch was over
come. He remained silent before it for a
long time, and when he was spoken to, he
was found to be in tears.
"Tne lives of all the blind and sick of all
the world lie there," he said. At his first
sight of the sunset he fell upon his knees.
"Behold," he cried, "I see the garment
of the living God."
"When the full moon flooded Judea,
Barnch walked forth unto the brows of
Olivet Here he remained for that night,
until the dawn, alone. His mother fol
lowed him for a space, but when she saw
the high look upon his enraptured face, she
turned back and left him to his solitary
ecstacy. At dawn he returned to her and
said:
"The moon is a lady. She is of high
birth. The earth is her lover, and worship
eth her from afar. I have witnessed the
loves of earth and heaven."
"Mother," added Baruch, after some
thought, "why might not Ariella have ac
companied me to the mountain, as I did be
seech her? I lacked Ariella. I had seen
two moons with Ariella. She withdraweth
from me."
"Because thou art no longer a blind boy,"
returned Bachel, "but a whole man. Thou
must deal with the maiden like other men."
"I deal with her as the earth dealeth with
the moon," said Baruch.
"But that is no way to treat a girl," re
torted Bachel. "There is no moonshine
about Ariella. She has as good sense for
that matter as any girl I know. She
knows, if thou dost not, that except she wed
thee, she must withhold herselr "from thee.
Ye are no longer two poor fools of affliction,
set apart from the laws of God and men,
that ye may "be trusted together by the hou
as of old. All Bethany nay all Jerusalem,
for the fame of the wonder hath gone
abroad would teach ye better in the gossip
of one dav."
"But why did not Ariella tell me so?"
protested Baruch naively. "She said unto
me that she did not wish to climb the moun
tain." "Why doth a damsel not woo a man, in
deed!" cried Bachel, laughing loudly.
"Verily, my son, thou provest thyself born
blind in spite of the miracle."
Baruch blushed, and was silent In a
few moments he said, carelessly, as Ir he
sought rather to divert than to continue the
conversation.
"When I behold Ariella, I behold two
Ariellas. This perplexes me. With one
eye I do see the old Ariella, a poor maiden,
thin and tender, lying on her long, lonely
couch. With the other I behold the new
Ariella; she springeth and walketh to and
fro; she is like the sunrise; she hath an eye
like a waterfall. Always do I behold the
two Ariellas."
If Bachel had been a modern scientific
student she would probably have suggested J
tion of his peculiar visnal condition. As it
was, she only remarked that she supposed
this was part of the miracle.
It could not be said that Baruch's attach
ment to Ariella had suffered default in con
sequence of his tremendous experience. But
it was true lor a time, at least, that a higher
absorption seemed to add a fine excitement
to his condition. Baruch's desire to behold
him ho had wrought the wonder upon his
own life, amounted to a fever. Since his
journey he had again sought for the Naza
rene everywhere, but this time in vain. It
was rumored that Jesus was traveling in
Perea, a heathen place, pityingly regarded,
where, if there were anything in the new re
ligion, it was sadly needed: at any rate the
Babbi was beyond reach for the present
Baruch fell into the habit of haunting the
localities frequented by Jesus, in Bethany
and Jerusalem; the Mount of Olives especi
ally had a fascination for him. He spent
many nights there as solitary as the lonely
devotee whom he sought As the autumn
came on and the nights cooled, his mother
remonstrated with him for the exposure, but
he said: "Stay me not, O my mother, till
mine eyes have beheld him who hath
blessed me above all liviDg men."
But Ariella said nothing at all. She was
experiencing in her turn a lit'le of the
pang felt by Baruch when she herself was
healed. She seemed to be less precious to
Baruch than when he was blind. Was it
so? Or only that another was grown more
dear?
At all events Barnch trod the familiar
path to Mount Olivet with patient, persist
ent feet; and there he kept a watch of many
weeks.
One night at the decline of the moon, it
being cool and the dewfall almost frosty,
Baruch on the brow of Olivet looted down,
and yonder, treading the ascending path,
he beheld the climbing figure of a solitary
man. It was late and deserted on the moun
tain. Kb idle visitor had ever interrupted
Baruch's seclusion unon that lonelv spot
When he saw the figure of the man who ap
proached him his heart beat with a violent,
suffocating motion. The figure was tall and
commanding; but it bent wearily, as if the
ascent proved hard. Baruch watched it
climb with a passionate desire to run and
help the man and be tender to him, as one
human heart doth yearn to another; but
this he dared not So he remained as he
was until the man had reached the moun
tain top.
The moon at that moment fled into a dark
cloud, and as the two met one standing,
the other kneeling-the face bent above
Baruch was invisible.
"Master," whispered Baruch," this many
a night have I sought thee here to bless thee
and now thou hast come."
The Nazarene stretched out his hand and
gently touched or stroked the check of the
kneeling man. The action was as tender as
a woman's. But it had in it more than fem
inine tenderness a pathetic, manful long
ing for sympathy too seldom received, too
Borcly needed. It seemed as if the man were
quite unaccustomed to gratitude or recog
nition so delicate as that of Baruch, and as
if he, in his turn, had become the grateful
one.
"Lord," cried Baruch, "unto thy mercy I
pray thee add one thing more, that I may be
utterly blessed among men."
".Name thou tne thing, replied the other;
but shrinking a little, and speaking wearily,
as it disappointed at the utterance just then
of a personal request
"Master, that I may behold thy counte
nance! Only that!" entreated Baruch
gently.
At this moment the moon shot from be
hind her dark veil and blazed in the face
into which the kneeling man lifted his
awed and yearning eyes.
CHAPTEB XVLTL
TEYSTING PLACE OP LAZARUS AND
ZAHARA.
Winter came on drearily in Judea that
year. There was more rain than usual and
early frosts. The poor housej of the people,
ill-prepared, as is so apt to be the case in hot
countries, for cold weather, presented sod
den and shivering faces to the gray land
scape, wherein rock and ridge and moun-
tain, and the somber regard of the great
desert seemed to watch the lowering sky.
Martha, the widow of Simon the Leper,
was displeased. Probably the weather con
tributed to her discomfort; nobody can be
irrationally happy with a sky of cold lead
and an atmosphere ot cold gruels; but
Martha did not attribute her discontent to
barometrical causes. A man was cause
enough. Why muddle the case and chat
ter ot the weather, which anybody had to
put up with? Who else had to put up
with a brother like hers? To be sure,
there was Mary, who went about like a
mute at a funeral, and forgot to shake the
rugs.
"Whatever be his trouble," sighed Mary
"it weareth upon him, for he groweth palei
and thin as never mv eyes beheld rnybr0thp
It grieveth me sorely. He eateth not, i
fear me, he sleepeth not." and a
"Most people can't sleep unless tu
in their beds!" snapped Martha. ?.Su
may'st be sorry if thou choose it ?
Thou hast the sorrowing nature. B ' M"rr
arus maketh me downright angry., , "
Martha spoke in excellent Afa
the word with which she closed h nJalc' and
was the nearest synonym to our er senten.ce
but perhaps more modern own useful
Hn(3. monosyllable:
"Gone again," as Marti .. j
Lazarus surely was. Thus . ah?d Bald'
of this young man's ..J'f'
ratic disappearances from ME!? ad T
able home. s slster s resspect-
spea few 5 m CaPeum, he had
iTve lithoutTahara " S" effort to
that life amounted Uo To hT," V""7
attended dullv; itrolled aLJ i; bns,ne! he
habit.
osence from Zahara had a pr
effect upon T.. .....
found
mope a little uiM.. ".:!.", iuo" men
Th. oncit;... :r u" circumstances.
Sr.a t .I "na Passionate
nature de-
"T"; """ms was
even capable of
ujiug lor xoves Eafce-
Such things exist.
aim nave aiwa
.ni: . j i - -waieu. .me case was
SSEtti.'?. Laza byZahara's final
IF, :-j mt "
1T ;r -iT" mni in their stolen interview
Nazarene."0rA.Vhe lake' "Abandon the
in?fm A thonsand times a dav the
Me" lth!,eDdofJeins cried: "Impossi
W ..i,?"?3 t'mes the lover of Za-
kw .P r,Ized: "Bnt hotr 11 ber so?"
iritt Sl"f k..S dawn his natnre arSned
iI, He rnleth "ysoul!" "She
ruleth my heart!" "Unto him is my dutv!"
unto her is my troth!" "Him will I
never deny " "Prom her can I never part"
le is my lord." "She is mv queen." "To
him I am loyal." "To her l"am true."
The strength of Lazarns, of which he had
once a goodly, manly store, began to decline
rapidly. It is just to this tossed and tempted
soul to say that, with his force of bodv, his
force ot will began to weaken. This 'is a
common calamity; the sorest and saddest
feature of physical unfitness, and one that
commands, in all ages and in any state ot
society, the least sympathy.
One day, without a sign of warning, he
liict lit! ouuucmy in a Dazaar in Jerusalem.
Her maidens were with her. She and Ke
becca were purchasing purple silk and gold
fringes. Her litter waited without Lazarus,
who was trafficking with the owner of the
shop over some matter of decoration needed
in the palace of the Maccabees, turned vio
lently pale. His love roshed upon him at
the sight of her like a torrent that no man
withstandeth. His hands were fall of
tapestries, and, bending over his purchases,
he managed to approach her, and to say in
a thrilling whisper:
"Zahara!"
"We are returned to the palace," mur
mured the lady, Zaharah, toying leisurely
with the purple silk. "Porgettest thou me,
Lazarns?"
"If I see thee not, I die!" breathed Laza
rus.
Zahara arched the pretty eyebrows which
were distractingly distinct above her silver
veil.
'Bid thy Bebecc3 be on watch for my
Abraham," Lazarus continued to say, "I
have purposes and them shall I enforce."
Zahara drew herself up haughtily; then
fluttered a little with a throb of feminine
respect for this masterful speech. She said
nothing; the merchant spoke: "Will the
most worshipful lady deign to consider the
dyes used in this silk of purple?"
"Lazarus examined his tapestries in pal
pitating silence. When he raised his head
Zahara was drifting to her litter like a shin
ing thought. She did not turn her head.
Too swiftly was she gone.
At that moment was born the daring ven
ture which Lazarus and Zahara afterward
put in execution with a determination
and a recklessness that had effects incon
ceivable by them upon certain of the chief
actors in this tale, and upon the history of
the world. ,
When Lazarus had been employed upon
the Temple about a year ago, he had been
called apart from the workmen to inspect a
matter requiring the master's eye. Lazarus
was more than a carpenter or master build
er. He was an intelligent man with an eyi:
trained to proportions; his was eqnal to any
artisan skill imported by Herod from Greece
or Borne. Prom foundation stone to marble
turret, he was a relentless inspector of
work. A column in the inner temple had
departed from the true perpendicular. Its
curven base had sensibly shifted, and
Lazarus was sent for to inquire the cause
and prescribe the remedy. He had
been led to a heavy tapestry that
ornamented an alcove in the High Priest's
vestment chamber. A door was revealed
behind the embroidery, as Lazarus was
guided through a passage by a priest of high
rank into the damp darkness of the subter
ranean chamber below the temple. Here
were the foundation stones placed by Solo
mon. Near by was the treasure chamber,
known to but a sacred few, and there was
the crumbling masonry for which the skill
ful eye was searching. Lazarus spent the
morning in surveys and calculations; the
priest departed, and bade him follow when
his work was done. Lazarus had privileges
beyond the mechanics. Was he not a Jew
among Jews, and a famous Pharisee?
When he started back through the same
vaulted passage his trained eye could not
help wandering by the light of the cedar
torch along the neatly laid blocks of lime
stone. Just as he was about to emerge, he
noticed a bar of bronze that projected from
a block larger than the rest. He stopped,
and musingly pushed and then pulled it
Silently the stone moved out upon a brazen
hinge, and the new draft almost extin
guished his light. No one was there. He
glanced within. Curiosity and youth take no
long time to decide. Lazarus bent, and en
tered, and soitly closed the secret door be
hind him. Soon the passage became high
enough for him to stand and walk. It was
iii excellent condition, and showed signs -of
.requent use. Down, down it went The
adventurer reflected. Did it lead to sheol?
He heard frequent sounds of rushing water,
but the passage was dry. After descending
and winding for a time, the avenue began
to lead up. The air was fresh and cool.
Could it be that it led tothctomb of David?
A thousand conjectures arose in the im
agination of Lazjrus as he toiled stub
bornly up the steep ascent Soon steps
helped him. Then another block of stone
barred his way. It had reached the mys
terious end. He drew a breath and pushed.
The light of the hot sun greeted him. He
was in the midst of deep shadows. He
looked and half-grown clusters of grapes
smiled at him. With cautious step he
parted the twining vines. He looked upon
a well Kept terrace. Opposite was the
temple. This was the terrace of Annas,
the High Priest Above irowned the
palace.
.Lazarus examined this strangely-protected
entrance curiously. He took quick and
carelul note of its location. He quietly
returned, replaced the stone in position, and
waiKeu oacK as swuuv as me unequal way
would allow. Once only he stopped; that
was when heard the rush as of a torrent
above him. He did not look up, bnt only
wondered where the water came from an!
whither it went Had Lazarus bnt raiseo.
his hand he could have felt a brazen disk
that divided the waters from the passage by
no more than the width of a thumb. A
hundred cubits further ascent, and he
cautiously emerged from this impressive
corridor. His discovery was undiscovered.
He kept his cousel; as the subterranean pas
sage did her own. The secret never passed
his lips; nor did the mystery deeply con
cern his curiosity. The agitated nature of I
the times and the autocratic authority of the
Sanhedrin left little occasion for wonder at
any expedient or subterfuge,, light ordark,
upon the part of the ecclesiastical princes.
Whether this passage had been built for
prayer or villainy, for the disposal ot burnt
offerings, idolaters, vigils, fastings, or
amours, who could say? Lazarus never
knew; and never greatly cared.
His discovery occurred to him now, with
a mental flash, and a crash like lightning
and thunder. It shot throngh him there
in the bazaar while - Zahara was blushing
over the purple silk. When lis soul started
and said: "If I see thee not I die!" the
whole scheme seemed to spring to meet
him.
To make the story short, he confided in his
fellow Abraham, Zahara trusted Bebecca.
The man and the maid met Abraham re
vealed the situation. Bebecca bore the tale
to her mistress. Upon the seventh night
following the interview in the bazaar, the
daring lovers met below ground between the
palace and the temple.
To accomplish this end it had been neces
sary for Lazarus te renew work upon the
temple. This he had found little difficulty
in doing; for his services were always in de
mand. It had been less easy to make a job
behind the priests' quarters; but this ob
stacle, too, the voung builder had con
quered. Upon plea of late and solitary
labor, performed more skillfully by the
master without the men, Lazarus had man
aged to obtain access at an early hour in
the evening to the subterranean passage
from the temple entrance. He replaced
the stone behind him. The drowsy
priests did not notice whether or when the
builder left the temple. Lazarus pushed
through with hot haste; and with bounding
heart reached the extreme end of the passage
and stirred the grass-grown slide moved it
qnickly and quietly aside, and stretched out
his hand into the grape vine. This was the
signal of meeting. Midway of the vine he
grasped the soft fingers of Zahara. Zahara
had a spice ot the adventuress in her; she
liked this daring business; it stirred her
soul and body. She darted behind the grape
vine and allowed her lover to draw her into
his forbidding trysting place without a
quiver. Abraham stood sentry; in the dark
at the mouth of the passage Bebecca watched
the palace. Lazarus and Zahara were
alone. He clasped her in the gloom with
out a word, and when he had suffocated her
with kisses, in silence and darkness, he
raised a temple lamp and stared upon her
beauty, like one gone mad with love and
joy. Zahara was a little pale, but she
shone resplendent in that dreary place.
"Zahara! Brightness! Bright onel" cried
Lazarus rapturously. "I risk my life for
thy lips!"
"And I my liberty for thine," replied
Zahara with a sweet pride. Then they
clasped, and spoke no more for the closeness
of their embrace, and that first meeting
gave no space for other speech or language
between them, but the language of the lips
and arms. They met rapturously and parted
soon and safely; Zahara and Bebecca re
turned together to the palace. Abraham
and Lazarus departed by different ways to
their own places. All went as smoothly as
a canoe over a torrent. Nothing happened
to hinder or alarm the lovers. The escapade
was undiscovered and repeated. In fact, it
was repeated for many a night
These meetings were always necessarily
short, but they lengthened insensibly and
dangerously. Lazarus felt himself quiver
ing between heaven and hell the heaven of
her presence and the hell of losing it Za
hara enjoyed herself supremely without di
verting fears. The girl was born for a wilder
life than the poor prison of experience ac
corded to Oriental maidens. She had possi
bilities in her which the High Priest recog
nized no more than they recognized her ec
clesiastical capacity to be voted into the
banhednn. This adventure delighted her.
She waived its dangers awav like a queen
and kissed the warmer for tfiem.
As the two become more accustomed to
each other's precious presence they managed
to introduce some articulate communication
into the wild scene. In their damp and
ghastly rendezvous, with the light of the
lover's lamp flaring wilding upon their
faces, and their strained ears grown refined
by their new exercise, listening to every
sound beyond their own heartbeats, Lazarus
and Zahara did the first conversing of their
lives.
Zahara returned quickly enough to the
subject, which had now mounted far beyond
their personal case, and had become the
main source of excitement, amity, or enmity
in Jndea: the career of the Nazarene.
Zahara remained firm in her repulsion to
this man, and to all which he represented
in the movements of her times. She had
her instinct ot high-born against the low,
of culture against rndeness, of the conser
vative against the progressive, of the San
hedrin against the dissenter, of ecclesias
ticism against religions liberty, of a young
and haughty woman against that which
she had not been educated to respect She
demanded ot Lazarus nothing less than
his entire desertion of the dangerous itin
erant agitator.
"Have I not done enough that is disloyal
for thy sake?" inquired Lazarus, mourn
fully. '"For thee I have not had converse
with the man for now longer than I dare
reflect upon. Each day I vow unto myself
that I will see the face of this Jesus, and
pray his forgiveness for ingratitude that
the man thou lovest ought to be ashamed
of, O, my Zahara! Each night I kiss thee,
and I behold him not"
"That is all very well as far as it goes,"
replied Zahara, with a little feminine self
satisfaction at her conquest of her lover.
"But that is not enongh. I like not to see
thee the dupe of such pretenders. Thou art
not l'ke low-born men, deceived by sorcer
er's antics as children and old women."
In vain did Lazarus reason with Zahara
touching the true nature and achievements
of his friend. When he spoke of the modesty,
the sincerity, the tenderness, the exquisite
sympathy, the God-like unselfishness of the
man, Zahara stopped his lips with a kiss;
when he related the marvels wrought by the
Babbi, Zahara arched her pretty brows.
When he urged his thrilling neighborhood
histories of tne sick girl and the blind man,
ZaharS said cures were common things.
When he insisted upon her own personal in
debtedness to the Savior of her life at Lake
Gennesaret, Zahara smiled in a chilly,
well-bred way, strongly suggestive of her
father, except that her expression was so
thoroughly lady-like.
"What wilt thou!" cried Lazarns in de
spair, one night. "What wilt thou, then!
Is there any test which thou wilt take of the
honor of my words, or of the sanity of my
judgment, or of the wondrous power and
character of him whom hou despisest and
I revere, whom thou scornest and 1 obey?
Our hearts are one, Zahara. Our minds
should not be twain. Thy pertinacity griev
eth me for love's sake. Tell me then! What
proof wilt thou take, of him or of me, that
thou shalt consider the claims of this holy
and self-forgetful man?"
"When with mine own eyes I behold him
give life unto the dead, O my lover! I will
consider," laughed Zahara lightly.
"Thou imperious Zahara!" groaned Laza
rns. "Thou demandest the impossible of
nature and the Nazarene."
Their lamp went out at this moment, and
Zahara clung to him in a pretty lright In
the dark his lips felt for hers, and he said
no more about the rabbi.
Before he lifted his face, a low voice with
out, upon the terrace, called him urgently.
It was Abraham, the slave.
"Bebecca warueth me," whispered Abra
ham, "the High Priest iu the palace calleth
for the lady Zahara."
Tne trembling lovers pushed aside the
grass-grown slide and boldly ventured out.
Lazarus drew Zahara into the open air it
was raining violently and they stood for
an instant with held breath, palpitating
behind the shield of vines. Quivering, they
listened and stared for sound or signal
which shonld decide the nature and extent
of the danger.
( T he continued next Sunday.)
Mrs. Chandler's Washington Residence.
One of the finest residences in Washing
ton is now being erected on the corner of
Sixteenth and K streets. It will cost in the
neighborhood of $100,000 and it will belong
to Mrs. Zach Chandler. Senator Eugene
Hale will be one of the inmates of it for
Hale is Mrs. Chandler's son-in-law and he
gets his great fortune with his wife.
BIRDS 0NTHE WING.
How Sportsmen Practice Shooting
Live and Clay Pigeons.
GLASS BALLS NO LONGER USED.
The Manufactured Article is Almost as
Good as the Field Article.
EQUIPMENT FOE AN AMATEUR CLUB
rWBITTK!! FOR THE DISPATCH.!
' For the busy man who loves the sound of
a gun, yet who can only indulge in a shoot
ing excursion once or twice a year in the
season, it is a standing regret that his lack
of practice between seasons puts his hand
ont of trim for the birds. Trap shooting,
which has taken hold of the public fancy to
a very large extent in recent years', affords
the opportunity for practice so greatly de
sired. Tr3p shooting was, until a few years ago,
confined almost wholly to professionals, and
very few amateurs were skillful enough to
be ranked as experts. Now, however, there
are clubj in every big city, and some of the
amateur sportsmen would not make at all a
bad showing even by the side of such dis
tinguished shots as Bogardus, Dr. Carver
and other noted guns of the trap and hunt
ing field. The glass ball, formerly so popu
lar in matches at the traps, is now quite a
thing of the past. Where live pigeons are not
employed nndertheHurlingham Club rules,
which govern all matches shot with live
birds, the artificial clay pigeon is the uni
versal substitute. The glass ball was dis
carded for the reason that its brittleness
made it liable to break at the slightest con
tact with the shot, and it was even a question
whether, under certain conditions, actual
contact was necessary to shatter it.
1'LY LIKE LIVE BIRDS.
So many.improvements have been made
recently in the manufacture of clay pigeons
A Jilarksman's Outfit.
No. 1 Tho trap. No. 2 The bat No. 3
Pigeon with clay tongue. No. 4 Old style clay
bird.
that the natural action of the bird is now
simulated with remarkable fidelity and
practice at the inanimate birds is considered
just as good for the marksman as though he
were shooting at live pigeons. A great
many clubs use the artificial birds exclu
sively, the most prominent in the East being
the German Gun Club, of New York, and
the Southside Club, of Newark, N. J. The
favorite birds are the Ligowsty clay pigeon,
with clay tongue; "the Bat," which may be
thrown from a clay pigeon trap or a regular
bat trapjjthe American clay bird, which is
exceedingly hard to hit, but when hit is
easily broken, and the Standard and Key
stone, both of which are fac similes of the
blue rock pigeon. One of the birds formerly
used had a paper tongue, but it was found
that in wet weather this would become limp
and refuse to work. The most reliable have
a clay or a wooden tongue. The best clay
pigeons, when bought in quantities for the
nse of clubs, cost about 2 cents each.
Prom a pecuniary standpoint, it is a very
different thing when live birds are used. In
the season pigeons cost about 25 cents apiece;
but in winter the price runs up to 60 cents
and even higher. In some recent big
matches the birds cost an average of $2
apiece, and in a match between Dr. Knapp
and Major Floyd Jones not long ago several
hundred birds were killed, costing $1 each.
WHEBE THE PIGEONS COME FROM.
The pigeons for these contests come from
different parts of the country, but the best
are from Baltimore, where the famous blue
rock breed is raised. The blue rock is a
small bird; hard, firm and heavy for its
size. A great many gunners who have not
had mnch experience in live-bird shooting
make the mistake of selecting big birds un
der the impression that they are the strong
est and the fastest flyers. Experts, however,
will pick out the small, firm bird, as they
know by experience that they will fly faster
and are in every way better suited lor the
traps.
In shooting either at live or artificial
birds a good deal depends upon the weather.
Windy weather has an eflect both on'the
flight of live birds and the artificial ones.
If the day be hard and cold and pretty
windy, the live birds get up wilder and the
clay ones naturally sail faster with the
wind. All matches at artificial birds are
Positions of the Sportsmen.
shot from three or five traps set level, five
yards apart, in the segment of a circle or in
a straight line, and numbered consecutively.
These traps should throw the birds from 40
to 60 yards. The puller stands six feet be
hind the shooter and pulls at the latter's
command. If he pulls too early the marks
man can refuse the bird, and he is then en
titled to another. In single bird shooting
the rise is regulated according to the gun
used, and runs from 13 to 18 yards; in
doubles it is from llto 16 yards. With
singles one barrel only is loaded at a time.
POSITION OP THE MARKSMAN.
Position has a good deal to do with suc
cess in trap shooting. Although the marks
man in all except the National Association
clubs may assume any standing attitude he
pleases, he will find mostof those of his
own choice ungraceful and ineffective. The
late Ira Paine used to stand with the stock
of his gun resting on his right hip and the
barrels raised to an angle of 45 ready for
the word.
Bogardus invariably held his gun below
the elbow, with the barrel slightly raised,
according to Hurlinghani Cluh rules. Dr.
Carver's pose is unique. His left arnvis
held perfectly straight, the left hand grasp
ing the barrel far lorward and the stock of
the gun sear but not pressing the chest be
low the armpit The position officially
adopted by the National Association and
approved by the best clubs, is to have the
stock of the gun held lightly below the
armpit, a little higher than the elbow, the
barrel raised to a level with the chin, the
head erect and the feet squarely placed,with
the left foot advanced. This position calls
for the least change before the shot is
actually delivered.
Another important consideration is the
gun. Eastern experts, -while using a variety
of guns, differing widely as to weight and
bore, hare about concluded that the lighter
the gun the better. The day of heavy-weight
' i IV i
guns for trap or wing shooting has passed
away. A good.hard-hitting gun with Damas
cus steel barrels.English walnut stock,check
ered and engraved, can be bought for $50
and upward.
THE LOAD ALLOWED.
In loading for trap shooting, for a 12
gauge gun, three drams of powder and two
wads are put back of 1 or 1 ounces of No.
6, 8 or 10 chilled shot, according to wind
and distance.
Under the rules of the National and
American Association, which have been re
vised within the last few weeks, any weight
gun is permissible, but it must not' be over
J ten-bore in caliber. The powder charge is
unlimited and the charge of shot for ten-bore
guns is fixed at 1)4 ounces. Each contest
ant must shoot at three or more birds before
leaving the score. In doubles both traps
are sprung simultaneously and each con-
Live Bird Trap Shut and Open.
tcstant shoots at three pairs, firing at two
birds while both nre in thfi air. Thp ti'sr nr
10-bore gnus is 30 yards, forl2-bore 28 yards,
loriiana it-Dore 20 yards. The rule as to
ammunition is the same as for clay birds.
There are clubs in a number of States affili
ated with the American Association, and all
shoot under the rules quoted.
THOUSANDS OP BIRDS KILLED.
The leading clubs in live-bird shooting
are the Westminster Kennel Club, of New
York; the Carteret Gun Club; the Bergen
Club, of New Jersey; the Country Club, of
Westchester, N. Y., the Larchmont Club
and theToxedo Clnb. Thousands of birds
are used in matches. In the match between
Dr. Knapp and Major Jones, lasting three
days, 2,000 were used, Knapp alone killing
over 1,000. These marksmen can easily
average 85 per cent at live birds, but they
would not do so well at clay pigeons, as all
their practice is with blue rocks and Peor
ias. it is customary to have on the club
grounds a supply of live birds at all times
for emergencies. The Country Club charges
Its members from 30 to 50 cents per bird. This
club and several others have extensive
pigeon-houses in which blue rocfes are kept
all the year round. Some of the clubs also
keep tame pigeons, but thty are not so de
sirable for trap shooting, lacking the gamey
qualities and dash of the wild bird.
Famous shots like Dr. Carver, Bogardus,
Brokaw and a few others can kill 99 live
birds out of 100. Frank Class, of Pine
brook, N. J., Mr. Beam, Dr. Welch, of
Englewood, have also done remarkable
shooting. The six brothers Lengerke, of
.hew i orE, have run up brilliant scores at
live birds, several of them averaging 97
out of 100 in both singles and doubles.
HINTS POR AMATETJES.
The organization ot a trap shooting club
is not a very expensive affair. The best
way for a company of amateurs to proceed
about it as follows: Let them first secure
their ground and then buy three traps for
clay birds, which will cost them about S3.
These traps can throw any kind of artificial
bird, and are easily changed to shoot in all
directions. A first-class afternoon's sport
at the clays won't cost the members over 52
each, allowing them 40 shots apiece. They
should dig a pit on the ground about three
or four feet deep, and protect it by a screen
for the use of the men who set the traps. .
It they want to kill live birds, a trap can
be made very cheaDly by any carpenter. It
is a box-shaped device. 10 by 8 inches long
and 7 inches deep, and can be either of wood
or metal. It should be painted green, which
color does not distract the eye ot the marks
man, xhe trap is secured in place by two
iron pins driven through the bottom and
into the ground. It consists of six pieces
held together by hinges and so arranged that
when sprung to release the pigeon the top
and sides, front and rear, shall fall out
ward, leaving the whole affair flat on the
grouud.
IT FRIGHTENS THE BIRD.
There is a lateral sliding door on the rear
end, through which the bird is admitted,
and the front is barred like a coop. In the
center of the trap is a metal or woodeu
tongue, pivoted on a spring, and to this
tongue a red rag is attached. To spring the
trap the puller takes hold of a cord attached
to a leather strap on top; a single tug re
leases the fore-end ot the top and as it comes
up, the sides and ends fall away with a
clatter. At the same instant the spring on
the tongue is released and the bird, startled
by the noise and the sight of the red rag,
flies upward with a rush.
In two cases lately brought by the Society
for the Prevention ot Cruelty to Animals in
Trenton and Philadelphia, the decisions
were in favor of the right of the clubs to
shoot live birds. A few of the States still
prohibit pigeon shooting, Connecticut being
one of them; but in New York, New Jersey,
Pennsylvania and in the West generally,
the sport is allowed. A Sportsman."
SHOES FOR THE DEAD.
Tiro Women Who Furnish Them Complnln
of Poor Trnde nnd Poorer Pny.
Ont in the eastern part of Detroit there is
an establishment which announces the
preservation of fnneral flowers and immedi
ately under it this sign is displayed: "Shoes
for the Dead." A representative of the Free
Press, mindful of the maxim "waiting for
dead men's shoes," rapped at the
door and was answered by an ancient
woman smoking a pipe. She took thisoutof
her shrunken jaws and saying she smoked
for the toothache though not a tooth was
in sight directed the way to the mortuary
shoedealer. It was up a winding stair. A
pale young woman answered the rap.
"Yes, we make shoes for dead folks; here
are some," and she took several pairs of
black, shapeless-looking boots from a box
on a chair which seemed to have more left
in it.
They were crocheted shoes made to button
up in the back, and with the flimsiest of
soles, and they had no shape and were
made to fit the foot. Seeing the reporter
examining them, the young woman said
sharply: "They're for comfort; they ain't
for style. They're warm and snug, if they
don't look pretty. Mother and I wear
them, and we ain't dead, either."
The price was 75 cents a pair without rib
bon bows. Cheap enough, and yet the
young woman said that trade was dull.
The undertakers wouldn't patronize them,
and a good many people buried their dead
without shoes; others didn't pay for them.
"The very pair I have on' she said,
"were returned for debt. The corpse's sis
ter took them off at the last moment. The
dead woman had worn them two days, and
they knowing all the time they couldn't
pay for them."
WHAT BELLAMI'S BOOK BU0UGHT.
lie Got Sixteen Thousand and tbe Publish
crs Thrice That Sum.
Boston Globe.
Edward Bellamy, the author, is in poor
health. Beaders of "Looking Backward"
will regret to hear this, and those who are
personally acquainted with the modest ex
pounder of nationalism will feel ajr still
keener sorrow.
How much do you suppose Bellamy has
made thus far on his famous book? Just
$16,000. How much tha publishers? Just
550,000.
Don't Bo Too BIk a Gun.
Detroit Free Press. 1
While everybody wants to be a big gun,
nobody should want to be a 110-ton big gun.
Seven or eight have been cast for various
navies, and those which haven't burst when
fired have kicked the ships pretty well to
pieces. No more of them will be cast
BREAKING THE FAST.
The Morning Meal in Scotland, In
dia, Africa and Australia.
UNBIASED JDDGE OP HORSEFLESH.
Amusing Experience of Two American
Travelers in a French Cafe.
ECONOMICAL EEPAST IN TICT0EIA
WRITTEN TOn TnE DISPATCH.
A pair of friends who shall be known as
Codlin and Short at breakfast the other
morning in a downtown restaurant were ex
changing experiences in the variety of the
matutinal meals whereof they had par
taken in the course of their wanderings.
Codlin had attacked a so-called tender
loin steak, while Short's brows were knitted
in critical contemplation of a chop. The
efforts of the former to disintegrate the
steak were so distressing as to induce from
his companion the remark:
"Seems tough, eh?"
"Bather. Looks to me like horse."
"Horse isn't so bad, they say. Never ate
it though."
"It's a matter of use. I remember a fel
low named Belton who swore he would never
eat it. It was in South Africa. We were
'trekking' to a point several days' journey
from our main body to establish a post, and
dependent on a limited supply of 'biltong'
and mealie biscuits. On the third day,
shortly after passing a small settlement,
where we were lucky in getting part of an
ox to add to our larder, one of our horses
and a filly at that gave out and we shot
her. We were for leaving her for the hyenas
and jackals, when the cook came to me and
suggested that he could make a very nice
roast from her brisket. I assented, but told
him not to say anythingto the others, know
ing Belton's prejudice to horseflesh. When
we turned out next morning, it was, as usual,
with mighty keen appetites, and when the
cook put the brisket down before us we set
to at it with a will. I had let the other lads,
all but Belton. into the secret. He was
especially ravenous and had more than his
share of poor Kate.
enjoyed it immensely:.
" 'Fine piece of ox meat as ever I tasted,'
cried Belton. 'Quite a treat after that con
founded dried meat
"We all burst into a roar of laughter.
Belton looked around at us with more or
less suspicion.
" 'What's the joke, you fellows? What
are you laughing at? Can't I come in?'
"'Well, for a fellow who over and over
again declared his entire repugnance to eat
ing horse flesh, I must say you have made a
wonderfully fine breakfast,' said I.
"Bnt even yet poor Belton couldn't see.
'You don't mean to say,' he cried, 'that that
brisket was originally ?'
" 'Part of Kate's anatomy.most certainly,
we chorused, and such a disgusted man as
Belton was you cannot imagine. He turned
pale as ghost and retired with such pre
cipitancy to -.his tent as to indnce the sus
picion that he was ill. He never forgot that
breakfast. Poor Belton! He fell in a smart
affair shortly afterward."
"Should think he had nightmare as one
effect of that breakfast," said Short
"Queer places fellows breakfast in at
times. Spent a holiday once in Scotland'
We were out with rods and guns and pulled
up for breakfast on the threshold of a High
land bothy. Around us were the moaning,
wind-swept pines, and far above the pale,
blue peak of the mountain giant, showing
dimly against a background of shifting sky.
Far beneath, rippling around the shingles,
the lonely tran, half silver in the sunlight,
half shadowed o'er by the projecting rocks.
A BREAKFAST IN SCOTLAND.
Perched on the grassy ledge, sheltered by
the weather stained bothy, three of us in
tartans, and the fourth, who would not don
the kilt, clad in somber Sassenach garb.
The guns lying ngainst the brown, bothy
wall; tbe unjointed fishing rod half buried
in the moss. At onr feet a basket with the
materials for the dejeuner, bannocks of bar
levmeal and oatmeal cakes, fresh yellow
Highland butter, a cut or so of cold salmon,
and, instead of a coffee pot, a mighty flagon
of usquebaugh. Our collie sets up on end
with a keen eve to our preparations, while
Eover, the setter, has returned from a pre
liminary skirmish on his own account to
'set' Donald, the gillie, as he lifts the trout
from the woodfire and sets them before us.
And then a mighty clattering ot knives
and forks. A mighty hunger that the
mountain breeze has given us. A long pull
at the stone jar; a filling of pipes, and then
to map out our course for the day. Great
Phcebus, what fun!"
"What a contrast," remarked the other, "to
the rural simplicity of an early morn repast
on the breezy Highlands, is the ceremonious
BREAKFAST OF THE ANGLO-INDIAN.
"Up at 4 o'clock, he takes what he calls his
'little breakfast' Then he is off to his
paddy fields, morning parade or office; gets
through most of his day's work, and returns
to his 'breakfast' at 10' o'clock. For his
'little breakfast' he ate a curry, broiled fowl,
aj devil, with coffee, fruit and preserves a
pretty good meal at that but his 'break
fast' is more elaborate. First as to tbe com
fort of his personal surroundings. The table
is set on the spacious veranda, void of
windows and hung with tatties,
over which coolies sprinkle water every now
and then to modify the ever-increasing heat.
Punkahs, swing noiselessly to 3nd fro
by the 'wallahs' squatted in the corner,
rustle the petals of the luxuriant orchids
which decorate the board and waft their
sweetness through the air. A dozen silent
footed and soft-voiced servants, whose snow
white robes are as pure as the linen on the
table, move noiselessly about anticipating
every wish of the sahib and his guests. The
climbiDg creepers and tropical plants which
peep in between the tatties are as refreshing
to the vision ot the Anglo-Indian after his
morning's work as is the iced mineral water
and stick, with which he opens the meal to
his inner man.
StTBSTANTIALS OF THE EEPAST.
"Several curries and rice, omelettes, de
villed kidneys and broiled bones, a bird or
two, a salad, a dish of chops with condi
ments ad libitum, backed up by excellent
French bread, fresh butter and cream cheese
form the nucleus of the repast. Fruit of
delicious coolness serves as introductory
course, and never does the sahib rise from
the table without topping off with a brandy
pawnee or brandy and iced seltzer, while
chablis, hock and Burgundy are at hand for
the softer and more fastidious sex. Perforce
ot the climate the Anglo-Indian is a high
liver, and as a consaquence iu time his liver
becomes his engrossing care. Nevertheless
he enjoys life, and 'small blame to him'
say I."
"When George Huntly and I were in
Paris for the first timej" said Short, "we
had an experience which proved to be
Dretty expensive. The morning after our
arrival we sallied out to do the town, and
incidentally get breakfast We dropped
into the Cafe de la Paix, and seated our
selves at the only vacant table. We heard
a bell tinkle, and next instant a waiter with
a wide smile, side whiskers, swallow-tail
coat, white cravat and hands which he
rubbed silently one within the other, was at
our side.
THE POLITE GASCON.
"He whisked a fly from off the cloth and
then desired to know what Messieures
would be so obliging as to order, placing a
very extensive menu card before us. As
my ignorance of French was only on a par
with George's, I left him to order. "Since
neither of us were at all acquainted with
what the bill of fare contained, George felt
it incumbent on him to show the waiter that
he was'quite familiar with French menus,
and had in fact so to say graduated iu,
the art of breakfasting. I looked on in si-'
lence while he scanned the card, and inci
dentally glanced over the one I held. I
made out snch items ai 'bifteak,' 'chateau
briand,' 'omelettes,' but these I considered
were only placed there to accommodate En
lishmcn and foreigners generally, and, of
course, could not form any part of the 'de
jeuner' of a connoisseur.
"George evidently was of similar mind,
for at length, not trusting himself to speak,
he indicated several dishes to tbe waiter,
who promptly wrote down the items on a
tablet. What they were I have not at this
day the faintest notion, but they had the
longest and most unpronounceable names of
any on the list. Having taken the order,
the waiter nextdesired to know whether we
wanted one portion or two. I explained to
George that it was the custom in France to
serve one portion to two persons if necessary.
" 'Detfce take it,' he cried, 'what does he
taKe us for. Deuxi .ueux portions.
SCENE IN THE CAFE.
" 'Bien! Monsieur,' and the garcon disap
peared. We now had time to take in our
surroundings. As I have said the place was
full. Every table in the broad cafe where
we were had its family or party. At one
table a portly citizen, with napkin tucked
under chin, did the honors of the table to
his wife and half a dozen children. At
another two men attired in such loud dress
as to at once attract notice, were entertaining
a couple df fair ladies whose manners were
not on a par, with the quality or their
showy, though neatly-fitting, habiliments.
Busy men from the commercial world found
opportunity between courses to smile and
make grimaces at a party of young misses
whose 'bonne' was engaged in settling the
bill at the cashier's desk, and over all was
an air of festivity, levity and bonhomie,
which is inseparable to an occasion where
French men and women meet in any num
bers. "But now our garcou appeared with a
number of covered dishes. He deposited an
enormous one before each of us, placed the
accessories around, and brought a bottle of
'ordinane' reposing in a wicker case. Re
moving the covers he invited us to fall to.
We did so. On what, I don't know, but we
did it. I imagine it was some kind of fish,
and there was certainly enough ot it to do
four people. George had a similar quantity.
THE WINE GOES IN.
' 'They don't charge us for the wine,' I
said to George.
" 'That so?' he exclaimed. 'They're
mighty liberal.'
"When we each had eaten as much fish as
we cared for, the garcon removed the dishes
and again disappeared. Once more he re
turned with as many dishes as before. We
commenced the attack again, this time on
what I had a suspicion were frogs' legs, and
and again was the quantity ample for four
people, at least. George didn't seem to relish
the dish, but he appropriated the wine to
such an extent that the bottle was soon
finished, and when the garcon came to re
move once more, he pointed to the empty
bottle as a hint to bring another.
" 'Bien, monsieur,' said that worthy, with
a smile, and adding something which may
or may not have been complimentary. But
I am afraid it wasn't Our waiter soon re
appeared for the third time, and again borne
down with dishes. The covers removed, our
attention was centered on four birds, which
turned out to be plover, cooked to a nicety.
George had also his portion of four. We
both began to feel that the situation was be
coming serious. Were we really expected
to surround each four plover after our
already tolerably good meal ? George had
resource to the ordinaire, and I removed a
wing and made an effort to seem quite at
ease.
YET AGAIN HE CAME.
"Pausing for a moment, the waiter had tbe
dishes off the table in an instant, very much
to our relief, and we hoped that when he
next came it would be with the bill. He
reappeared in season, bnt with another
array cf dishes.
" 'Great Csesarl' I exclaimed to George,
'did you order the whole bill of fare.
" 'Confound their portions,' he returned,
'who would supnose they were so liberal.
I ordered four orfive courses, but I expected
they would have been courses such as we
w'ere used to.'
"Once more tbe table was covered with
dishes. This time he had brought us each
several hundred whitebait. We took some
and made another pretense of taking the
whole tiling as a matter of course. This
time our garcon did not go away. He
waited. I look at him once or twice and he
was evidently regarding us with the air of a
man who was privileged in serving two gen
tlemen whose fancy it wai to order expen
sive breakfasts for the pleasure of paying
for them. George now wanted more ordi
naire. Another bottle was bronght, and
again the dishes taken away.
" 'What next?' was George's inquiry.
"We anxiously "watched for Jthe appear
ance of our waiter, and when we saw bis
smile and side whiskers glide around the
awning, just visible above another cohort of
dishes we felt in a state of collapse.
" 'We don't want it Take it away, cried
George in emphatic Anglo-Saxon.
' Comment, Monsieur? said the garcon.
EEADY FOR THE BILL.
" 'Take these things away and bring the
bill. Say, Jack, what's the French for
bill?'
" 'Addition.'
" 'L'addition, l'addition, cried George,
'bring the dash blank bill,' and he did.
Such a bill. It made a considerable hole in
a $10 bill, and the extra bottles of ordinaire
were faithfully recorded. From that out we
hunted out English houses, where we paid
proportionately as much and were not half
so well served.
"The cheapest breakfast I ever ate," said
Codlin, "was in a small town in Victoria.
It was at a regular hotel and I was ushered
in and sat down to table with some 20 other
travelers like myself. They gave us two
kinds of excellent soup one of them was
kangaroo tail boiled and roast mutton, and
roasted ribs, hashed mutton, several kinds
of vegetables, pies, milk, tea, home-made
cake and a glass of beer, at a charge of
guess."
"Twenty-five cents?"
"Twelve cents sixpence English."
"Check, waiter," to the colored gentle
man who had provided the tenderloin and
chops.
"H'b," said Codlin, taking the checks,
"$1 50. Difference iu longitude makes a
difference in cost." F. Jay Kaye.
E01IAHCES OP GEEAT MEN.
Mnrrlnges of Ex-Governor Iionr, of Massa
chuaclts, nnd Senator Ilnwlcy.
Miss Grundy, Jr. '8 Correspondence.
A curious romance of the last Congress
was that of ex-Governor Long, of Massachu
setts. He went away from the House one
day, and a short time later a telegram ap
peared in the newspapers saying that he
had married a school teacher who had been
instructing two of his children. sShe was
pretty and accomplished, and Washington
society highly approved of the match when
its members came to know her.
It was the same with the match of Senator
Hawley, whose pretty English wife is now
one of the leading ladies in Washington so
ciety. Mrs. Hawley was the daughterofa
prosperous English squire. She had tbe
theory that every woman should have a
career, and at an early ace she turned her
attention to nursing. She was chosen di
rectress of the nurses to go with General
Wolseley's army in the Zulu W3r, and her
success was so great that she was awarded the
Victoria order of the Eed Cross.
She came to America to reform the man
agement of the Philadelphia hospital, and
it was dnring one or her trips across the
ocean that Senator Hawley met her. He
fell in love, proposed and was married and
she now presides over the Senator's house
here.
Canada's Governor-General.
Lord Stanley, of Preston, the Governor
General of Canada, is broad-shouldered, patrician-mannered,
and 40. He wears a
closely-cropped black beard; is devoted to
a cold tub, and has taken kindly to tobog
ganing. He is not a brilliant man, but he
is eminently respectable. He is also the
father of eight children and will one day be
Earl of Derby and one of the richest men in
Europe.
JONATHAN'S COUNTRY
Impressions of Mrs.
Famous English
Kendal, tho
Actress.
A VISIT TO A CHILDREN'S SCHOOL.
High Praise for the Free Educational Facil
ities of America.
HER IDEA OP CLASS DISTINCTI053
IWBITTZN FOB THE DISPATCH.!
Shortly after our arrival in America a
gentleman friend of ours heard me express
a longing for a sight of my children. "Come
with me," he said, and, after donning ray
wraps, we took a carriaee and drove for a
long time I don't know where, some place
on Lexington avenue, I think and entering
a handsome building, were taken into a
large room, at one end of which on a small
platform sat a lady.
She greeted us very cordially, saying a few
words of welcome to me, and then suddenly
gave a signal at which there came into the
room 400 dear little children. A moment
later the glass partitions, which divided the
room from its neighbor, rolled baek.and there
were 400 more of the dear little ones
though these children were younger and
again, back of them, opened more glass
doors, and there were 600 of the dearest
mites. Then all of these children, to the
sound of music performed a most perfect
caljsthenic drill. Never have I se?n such
uniformity and precision, even in our finest
military maneuvers at home. It was mar
velous. They moved their little arms with
the most perfect precision, turned their
faces profile, half, three-quarters, with aa
accuracy which an artist might have
sketched perfectly; they patted their dear
little cheeks, and did it all to the beat of a
semi-demiquaver, with the music.
TOUCHING LITTLE VOICES.
After the calisthenics, their dear little
voices sang forme "Eule Britannia," and I
can'tsay how much the song affected me.
A child's voice has a tone in it which tbe
human voice when over 18 years of age
ceases to possess, and it was that tone in
those little shrill sounding voices raised in
song that impressed me. For I love
children, and this separation from my own
has been more than bard to bear.
On inquiring I was told that these child
ren, 1,400 in number not 4, nor 14, or
even 400, but 1,400 of tbem were taught
and cared for in this institution, free! It is
wonderful. They are given everything;
books which auy gentleman might be proud
to have in his library, these children are
permitted to use daily.
I asfied for what class of children this
school was intended, and was told that no
classes were recognized there. The million
aire's daughter might and did sit next to tha
carpenter's daughter, and they learned to
gether, until oh, America, land of no class
distinctions the children became 8 or 9
years old, and then the millionaire's
daughter was taken away from the institu
tion by her parents, sent to a. boarding
school, or abroad, to finish her education.
Though yon Americans will not ac
knowledse that you possess any distinctions
of class or caste, they are here in spite of
yon; you call them by some other name and
are content
CONVINCED IT'S A GREAT COUNTRY.
But I drove home feeling much cheerier
and happier for my glimpse of those child
ren, and full of wonder and admiration for
the marvelous country that could present
such institutions to its children, for their
use, free.
Tee next day I took the ladies of my com
panyalmost all ot whom have little ones
of their own, and who were finding their
separation from them, as I had mine, very
hard to bear to the same institution. They
were almost all moved to tears.
There is nothing like this institution in
England, which may account in partforthe
creat impression which it made upon meJln
London there is the Slasonic School, which
in a degree resembles it, and with which I
am perfectly familiar in all its details. Jly
husband is one of the managers of this
school, and, as a Mason's wife, I have the
freedom of it But the discipline, the train
ing, the teaching, and the appliances are far
inferior to the American institution whichl
have described. Such an institution as the
latter is a "Utopian realization.
One of the teachers in this institution had
told me that her father was the President of
the Normal College in New Xork, and ad
vised me . o make a visit there. A few days
later I went, and found there 1,800 yonng
women. the flower and beauty of thecountryt
I was paid 'he great compliment of having
these fair creatures assembled to meet me.
The school would rank with Eton, Harrow
and Itugby in England, nnd as 1 realized
what the compliment would have meant
coming from them, I considered it one of
magnitude.
WHERE WILL THEY GET HUSBANDS.
At a signal, these 1,800 young women
rose, exactly on the instant, together, and
sang a hymn in Latin! Think of it! Then,
at another signal they placed their 1,800
selves in 1,800 chairs, all again on the
instant. Such precision! It is marvelous.
I was presented to these young women and
asked them where they expected to find
1,800 huibands worthy of them.
These are samples of the many free insti
tutions of learning in this wonderful conn
try. My presence in so many cities has
filled me with greater appreciation of the
immensity of the size, charities, industries,
and institutions of this marvelous land.
Anotherthingby which all English people
who visit America must be surprised, as
much and as deeply as I have been, is by
the extensive expanse of territory. To be
able to take railway journeys thousands of
miles in length, this to an Englander is
amazing.
EACH CITY SUI OENEEIS.
Another thing which has deeply im
pressed me has been the distinct characteris
tics prevailing in each city. Boston is not
inanywayiiKe to JNew York, nor Phila
delphia to Chicago. I could no more con
found any one of them with another than I
could mistake a Philadelphian tor a New
Yorker, and no city has any idea of the
powers and capabilities of its neighbors; be
cause of the distance between most of them
it is impossible that thev should have. Each
has its marks of individuality, just as all
are possessed with the common virtue or
grace I know not which to term it ot hos
pitality. "eAa(J read of American hospitality,
we had heard of it, but now we have seen,
enjoyed and experienced it, and I can easily
say that there is nothing like it the world
over. Such cordiality and kindness I have
never before encountered. To finish where
I began, however, the only unbappiness
connected with the journey has been the
separation from my children, a separation
which I could not endure again, and should
lever return to America they shall come
w1'0 me. Madge Kendal.
FOECE OP PLANT GK0WTH.
An OIIto Tree That lias Displaced a Staa
Welshing Tom.
Youth's Companion.
The amount of work which plants do in
breaking up the rocks and forming soil is
not understood by careless observers, andbj
those who do not observe at all. A curious
instance of the effect of vegetation in lifting
stones is seen in one of the fragments of the
Cyclopean wall of Leucadia. An olive
tree has planted itself, or has been planted,
close to the wall, and its roots and two of
the principal branches have pushed their
way through some little crevice, or through
the grouting between the stones.
In Krowing they have succeeded in dis
placing the gigantic stones ot which the
wall was built, and one stone, about three V
feet long, 30 inches wide nnd as much deep, jw
is altogether removed from its originalC
position in the wall, and, in the course otf1
years, has become built into the tree, and' -'
raised at least a foot higher than it waa
originally placed.
I