1
I
I
u.
if
10
elusion, "you will see me to-morrow; if yon
do not seeme I shall be at rest in the world
forever. J cannot be unhappier in hell than
X am now!"
With these words she vanished, to fall
lifeless under the oul murderer's hand.
My assistant, Grope, brought me a num
ber of letters he ionnd in poor Ella's room.
These were all written by Cyril Dnrand.
They ran through nearly a year. Arranging
them in proper eruer I reached the follow
ing facts: The earlier letters were all in
one Une, that of the deepest lore. The man,
Dnrand. reerets his Dovertv he was an
inventor, the creator of some kind of elec
trical machine of which be had the highest
hopes, but which he conld not sell, as it
was supposed to infringe on some other
patent, whereas he asserted the patent in
lringed on his rights. He was not rich
enough to go to law, bnt he was
ever on the lookout for some mon
eyed iadividual who would take an
interest in him. One of the sentences
from an early letter I extract as of
come bearing on the case in hand.
It read: "Oh, Ella, darling, if you only had
a little fortune, a few thousand dollars, we
could speedily become millionaires. But
there is no luck for us, and you must labor
and I starve." The question of money was
always cropping out, and by degrees it
seemed to absorb his love. The letters be
came more formal and business-like, until
tbey developed into a note like this: "Dear
Ella I shall not see you for some time. I
bear there is a project of lighting Eglatine
Hill by electricity, and I ana told that it I
can prove my claims to priority of inven
tion, I shall have a chance. I am going
down there. Please, now, put a chain on
your impetuosity; don't dog my footsteps.
In place of being a stimulant, you are a
weight on me, with your wild jealousy. My
success means happiness to both. If you
love me, trust me; otherwise I am in de
spair." Prom this point the letters grew savage;
sow and then there break out little phrases
of tenderness and remorse, but as the rule
the woids must have been poisoned arrows
to a tender heart. Here are some specimen
sentences extracted frem several letters;
"Xbu must not come here again. Your per
petual dogging is an humiliation. If you
insist on playing the tyrant, I will kill my
self! I must have money, and I will have
it Tour jealousy and" persecution drive
me to drink and the gaming table. I am
becoming reckless and cruel. I have ceased
to be worthy of yon. My hopes are shat
tered, and I only know peace when I
have dulled my brain by alcohol. Do not
come near me now; I am more brntish than
human! My poor little Ella! That was a
Bigh from the dead past. Forget me."
The following is the last letter; if the
woman was sensitive, she would not have
l'elt her death blow after reading it.
"Your suspicions are right. Make the
most of my admission. I warn you to keep
away from me now, for I am dangerous. I
hate you! I hate you! I hate you! Curse
the world! myself included. Think of me
ns you please, but keep away from me, or I
trill kill you. (I, Detective Fox, italicize
these significant words.) I hsve lost my
Eelf-respect; I am ground groveling in the
dust; I am a beast, a coward, a hypocrite, a
slave. I hate you, and, knowing my cow
ardly nature, you know what that means.
Any change is prererable to my present con
dition, which I have brought on myself, and
deserve. Yon must not see me again. If
you do, you will take the consequences of
meeting a human hound who deadens his
soul by alcohol!"
This letter was written and posted two
days before the murder, and to it, no doubt,
poor Ella referred in her parting with her
landlady. I will.add that Grope questioned
the conductor of the train that stop at Eg
lantine Hill, and this condnctor distinctly
remembers having received on the day of the
murder the fare from a young woman whose
description corresponds with that of Ella
Constant. He recognized her, as she had
been a frequent passenger on his train, and
always attracted bis attention by her nerv
ousness and anxiety. Three times on the
day in question she had said to him: "Be
sure and step at Eglantine Hill!"
t JOnder the circumstances the arrest of Cyril
jr 'arand was imperative; but it was equally
Imperative that I should not leave my
present field of research. I had sent one
message to the city concerning this man,
and by Grope I now sent another urging a
Particular lookout for Cyril Dnrand, whom
again described for the benefit of our polit
ical superintendent My duty was more
arduous and puzzling, but its complexity
only added to my energy.
Having dispatched my agent to the city,
I strolled in the direction of the old bouse
by the pond, trying to hammer into shape
certain ideas that were haunting me. My
actions were mechanical, but when the de
cayed old building loomed in front of me I
determined to give it one more search.
Glancing down at the pond I saw that the
water had risen above the line of the foot
prints that I had measured yesterday, but
nowhere was it over a foot deep, and I could
see clear through it to the bottom mud. It
was alive witn tadpoles, and a couple of
bare-footed boys were amusing themselves
by aiming at the harmless animals with
heavy sticks.
Entering the old house I gave a compre
hensive glance around me, and I was will
ing to swear that some person or persons
had been here in the intervals between my
two visits. In the first place, I discovered
the stump of a candle, which I ara willing
to swear was not in the home when I first
visited it; in the next place, the ground
everywhere had the appearance of having
been disturbed. Here and there the tall
grass was rooted up in patches, and over
in a corner a large colany of toad
stools had been deliberately knocked
off their stems. "What surprised me was
that the party or parties made no attempt
to conceal their depredations, they had
seemingly acted in defiance of the fact that
the lynx eyes of a detective were surveying
the entire field of action. What were they
alter? People don't come to out-of-the-way
places, and tear up grass for the fun of the
thing; and it was a natural conclusion that
the unknown visitor or visitors, had come for
the purpose of finding something. Was it
something they had lost? 1 did not think
bo. and for this .reason the crass was only
torn up in certain places. When a thing is
lost it might be lost anywhere; the depreda
tins in this place suggested system. Were
they looking 'or anything? That is, for
something that had been hidden and not
lost It was probable. Traveling over the
cround en hands or knees this probability
became a certainty, for here and there I
iound the ground disturbed as if somebody
bad been digging into it I saw the marks
of feet on the monld as if somebody had
been pressing it down to conceal
their work. I counted five disturbed
places. I determined to indulge in
a little exploration on my own account. I
took out my penknife and amused myself by
digging in the same places in which the vis
itor had dug, and was more than rewarded
for my pains. The third spot I attacked
yielded me unexpected treasures, for I dug
up a tin box in which druggists do up
seidlitz powders, and on cutting the string
that tied the box I found the following ar
ticles: One solitaire diamond riug, one em
erald ring surrounded with pearls, one
bracelet representing a serpent, and a plain
gold chain necklace; in fact the same arti
cles that Mrs.G!aye described as stolen from
ber. Evidently she had been robbed after
all; but it was equally evident that the thiei
who bad hidden the articles had been robbed
by another thfe , for the papers were missing,
the papers relating to Mrs. Glare's personal
affairs. The party who tore up the grass
and dug into the ground did not want the
jewelry, but only the papers. On the other
hand, the party who robbed Mrs. Glaye
wanted both jewelry and papers. Here was
another nut to crack I What persons liv
ing at Eglantine Hill were interested in
Mrs. GJaye's personal afitirs? Twist the
suljcct as I might, I could find nobody
but the adopted daughter. Bertha,
who would fit in the vacant position. If
.Bertha was the guilty party, I argued this
way, she was only interested in stealing the
papers, and she had taken the jewel simply
to turn attention away from hcrse! , under
the supposition the papers contained some
thing in which the was interested. Granting
this hypothesis, the robbery became a simple
matter; for Bertha bad free access to her
mother's room at all times and free opportu
nity to rob at her unsuspected leisure. The
fc!y
more I thought of it, the more willing was
I to accept this "provisional explanation.
But who was the second robber, and how was
the discovery made that the stolen papers
were hidden in this deserted old building?
I am willing to confess that I had no
answer to this question. Perhaps, when the
nature of the contents of the papers was re
vealed to me, the object of both robberies
would be made plain. I derermined to ques
tion Mrs. Glaye on this point Did the
papers have any bearing on the murder?
That also remained to be found out Per
haps Dnrand had his finger in this pie. as he
had his finger in the other pie. Perhaps it
was pull devil, pull baker between Durand
and Bertha, both struggling lor the money
that Mrs. Glaye held on such precarious
terms. I thrust the jewels in my pocketand
tnen left the moldy old house. I decided
that my first duty was to have a little con
versation with Mr. Otto Morton. In the
first place, I could get him to talk readily
on the fascinating subject of Bertha, and in
the next place compel him to give an ac
count df his actions on the night of the mur
der. I hurried to the wharf and round Morton
alone in a rowboat just about to go out fish
ing in deep water. I descended the steps,
leaped into the boat and smilingly hoped I
was not disturbing him.
"It you have a second fishing line, Mr.
Morton, I will willingly be yonr com
panion." "Who are you?" he asked, with an angry
frown.
"Detective Fox, at your service!"
He glared at me for a moment, then
seized the oars and rowed out into the cur
rent
"What do you want with me?" he asked,
after a little pause.
"Several things; bnt first of all to assure
you that I would be your friend if you are
willing to meet me half way. To be frank
with you, I think I have discovered the
murderer, but without help I'm afraid that
the innocent may be harmed before I reach
the guilty parties."
"Doyo'u refer to Miss Glaye?" he asked,
anxiously.
"Yes, and it will be a pity 1"
"You do not suspect her?" he said, with
a dangerous light in his eyes.
"With your help, I hope to remove her
out of the line of investigation."
"To save her from an hour's pain, I would
sacrifice my Hie!"
"I will not ask so much," I answered,
dryly. "I shall only demand what yon, as
an'hocest man, should be willing to an
swer."
"Then drive ahead."
"Why did you tell Miss Glaye that you
were in the citv on the night of the mur
der?" He stared at me with ludicrous amaze
ment, then said:
"To save her from knowing what I
know."
"Yon saw Mrs. Amelia Glaye on the
night of the murder?"
Again he stared at me.
"Yes."
"Would you mind telling me about it?"
He paused, rested on his oars, frowned,
then began to row again.
"I may as well tell noff as any time!" he
saia gloomily.
"Far better now than at any other time,
for Miss Bertha's sake." I answered, with
meaning emphasis. "What did you see?"
"Durand had begged me to meet him at a
certain hour in the evening, as he wished me
to assist him in a certain matter which he
was to tell me when I met him. The hour
he appointed was 7 o'clock; but I was un
fortunately detained beyond that hour in
the hotel, and when I reached his house he
had gone out."
He pulled vigorously at the oars for a mo
ment, then continued:
"It was a dark, unpleasant evening, and
I was returning over the fields when I heard
two people speaking angrily together. It
was up under the trees near the pond. For
reasons which satisfied mvselt then, as they
oawaiy wc nun, JL uclcriUlUCU lO listen, an
easy business in tfce darkness. I crept down
toward the, pond and easily hid mvselt.
The woman was Mrs. Amelia Glaye", the
man was Cyril Dnrand. "He was begging,
she was threatening; then he begged and she
threatened. The quarrel was about some
woman whom Durand had promised to meet
that night Mrs. Ulaye forbade him to meet
what she called the 'creature,' and he in
sisted that he must meet ber. She got into
terrible passion, and said these words, that
still ring in my ears: 'Cyril Durand, if
after what I have heard, you dare to meet
this foul creature, Ella Constant, I will
kill yon and I will kill her. If you have
ceased to love me, so much the worse for
you; but I will hold you to your promise
even if I stain my hands with the blood of
murder." She strode from him and be fol
lowed, and I soon lost the sound of their
voices. I thought nothing of the words at
the time, imagining they were merely the
ordinary threats of a jealous woman. But
imagining that Durand might still need me
I returned to his house and waited. I waited
and waited, bnt he did not return. I took a
little walk and then went back to the house.
He was still absent. I did not like him, but
I was sorry for him. On my way home to
the hotel I met Dr. Brandt That was my
experience on the evening in question.
When I heard of the murder yon may im
agine what horrid meaning I found in the
frenzied words of the jealous woman."
He leaned on his oars to wipe the perspi
ration from his face, then quietly continued
his rowing.
'This is all very important, Mr. Morton;
but it the woman, Mrs. Glaye, committed
thr murder how didsbe dispose of the body.
Surely she was not strong enongh to drag
it down to the wharf and throw it over."
"I do not understand you."
I gave him a brief account of the doctor's
theory and of mv discoveries, not forgetting
the shoe and the bannet
"I can't explain what puzzles you,
Detective Fox. What I heard I heard; for
the rest you must draw your own conclu
sions." "Good. Let us now return to another
subject You know that Miss Bertha is only
an adopted daughter of Mrs. Glaye?-'
""I know it, and rejoice that that woman's
blood does not flow in her veins."
"I believe that Miss Bertha has no monev
of her own?"
"She has none."
"You know of no papers in Mrs. Glaye's
possession that would have any interest" for
Miss Bertha; that is, papers which, if de
stroyed, may harm the young lady you are
interested in."
"I have heard the young lady speak of
certain papers that she would lite to have
in ber possession, but I do not know their
nature, as I bad no right to ask."
"Miss Bertha spoke on this subject more
than once?"
"Several times, but never in detail, and it
was a joke of mine to laughingly ask her,
when we met, if she had got those papers
yet"
"I am very much obliged to you, Mr.
Morton, and if you would row me to land I
promise not to trouble jou again."
"Yon intend to arrest her?"
"Not just yet; she is safe enough where
she is, and my investigations are not fin
ished. You need not alarm Miss Bertha
yetjMji fact, you will be wise ii you say
nothing of the business to ber."
"You need not i"ear," he answered earn
est) v; "she shall not hear any bad news from
my lips."
He rowed me back to the wharf, and I
leaped out. Glancing toward the hotel, I
saw two figures pacing slowly ud and down
on the. veranda at the back of the bonse.
That is, I caught glimpses of them at odd
intervals as they emerged from the shadow
of the bouse into unobstructed view at either
end of the verauda. The figures were those
of Mrs. Amelia Glaye and Miss lone Grande.
The sight gave me an inspiration. I hastened
toward the hotel and entered it. Whisper
ing a lew words in the clerk's ear, I as
cended the stairs and stopped before Mrs.
Glaye's room; the door was locked, bnt I
had little difficulty in opening it Once in
the room, I advanced toward the little desk,
and, thanks to the knowledge previously
gained, I uressed a certain spring, and a
secret door flew open. I did not touch the
little jewel case, but I boldly abstracted the
dagger lying beside it, and thrust the
weapon in my pocket closing the door of
the hiding place. While the opportunity
offered, I took the measurements of one of
the good lady's shoes, and found it corre
THE
sponded exactly with certain footprints
that I had measured in the mud of the pond.
I then left the room, and closed and locked
the door behind ine.
Everything seemed plain, enough now, if
one wereonlv willing to leap at conclusions;
but the trouble was that there- were several
items that disturbed me, and would be the
better for explanation. It is a maxim of
mine that nothing is gained by haste, and
that a quick ending is generally a very un
satisfactory ending. 1 now began to see a
case where wheels were working1" within
wheels, where large crimes aud small crimes
were mingled together in tempting out an
noying comparison. A hasty step or action
were now worse than a mistake; it was
nothing worse than disaster. There must
be some guiding thread through this maze,
a thread which I must discover. And it
came soon enough, sooner than I expected
or even hoped. But it is more frequently
accident than design which leads to success,
and conquest is not so much wisdom as op
portunity. Once more in the open air, I breathed
freely, and walked onward with brisk
strides. Glancing back, I saw Miss lone
Grande standing on the end of the veranda
lacing me, at the back of the honse. She
recognized me and bowed, and although
somewhat annoyed at being seen, 'I gal
lantly took off my hat and returned the
salute. I then continued my journey, but
now plunged down to the shore and walked
onward. When I was behind the shelter of
a high rock, I paused and drew the dagger
out of my pocket. The ornamental metal
case did not interest me, and so I drew out
the blade and studied it The end of the
polished mesal was stained; yes, and stained
with blood. A few fragments of the dried
clotted stuff dropped into my hand..
I did not return to Dr. Brandt's cottage
until the dinner hour, when he again treated
me to the most tempting repast. The spray
ofgoldenrod that I had seen in the morn
ing in the window still remained there,
showing that the doctor did not share the
little Ione's anxiety. I was more charv of
drinking wine on this evening, for I believe
it was drugged for the kind purpose of put
ting me into a sound sleep, as on the even
ing'before, although then it bad only mud
dled me. Not to arouse the Doctor's sus
picion I pretended to drink it, but the
handkerchief, a large red one, "with which t
wiped my mouth, received the larger portion
of ray share. If Dr. Brandt was cunning,
Lecoq Fox could give him points and still
win.
I retired to my room that night, but not
to bed. I sat down and patiently pieced to
gether the fragments of letters that I had
found in the waste basket in the man
Dnrand's house. With one exception,
there is no need of literally transcribing
them; they simply re-enforced facts already
known. There were three touching letters
from Ella Constant to her indifferent lover;
letters that almost moved a world-toughened
man like I am to tears; letters pleading for
love or death, written with the life blood
of an agonized lover. If at that moment
my fingers bad been on the man Durand's
throat, the hangman would have been saved
some labor. There were five letters from
Amelia Glaye; the letters of a furiously
jealous woman. She had evidently taken
possession ot Dnrand, and, tigress like, was
guarding him. The letters fairly foamed
with love and jealousy, and I
was staggered to believe they had been
written by the placid matron who had
allowed me to question her in her room.
They might rather have been written by a
maniac. If Durand was the moral coward
he confessed himself to be, he niust have
had a pretty bad time of it in the clutches
of this mature tigress; slaverr would have
been a luxnrv to the position he hud. In
one of the letters were these words: "Come
to met If you dare to see that vile woman
woman again, I will murder you and her.
You have lied to me, and you will lie to
me again, but look out If I am insane, as
you call me, so much the worse for yon and
her. Insane people are not responsible for
their crimes. Come, then, and lie to me,
and while looking at you I will believe
you and be happy. You are mine now, and
nothing shall tear you from me."
The good lady was evidently in earnest,
and Durand mnst have felt that the money
that would come to her ou her marriage
would not pay for the wounds her claws
and tfti infllplAll-
The following brief letter is quoted in
full. It was written in a woman's disguised
hand, and demonstrably on the day after
the murder was committed:
Put wings on your coward feet and fly, or
your coward soul will rust in- jail. Fly! it
not for your own sake, for the sake of oth
ers. Look into vour heart for the reason,
and, if you can discover none, remain and
tempt all. Murder calls aloud for revenge.
MTJBDEB! Take the warning you do not
deserve and fly."
As I have said, the letter was in a dis
guised hand, but I saw no reason to doubt
that it had been written by Mrs. Glaye, and
re-en 'orced an old thought of mine that she
had witnessed the murder, if she had not
participated in it Woman-like she still
loved the wretch, and love, as usual, made
her lose her wits.
The patching together of these fragments
took me into the early morning .hours.
Nothing of a susDicious nature occurred in
the house up to this point so far as I knew.
The doctor's snore from a neighboring room
had saluted me uninterruptedly for several
hours, and when fagged out I jumped into
bed it was still vibrating through the house.
I slept like a top until the morning sun
blazed into my eyes with its welcome light
I raised myself into a sitting position, and
was dazed at discovering I was still sur
rounded by darkness. Through the window
1 saw the stars still shining in the pale sky,
and the chill night air set my teeth chatter
ing. I was waked by the light,""and I had
not dreamed. I assured myself that my
door was still locked, and that nobody was
in my room bnt myself. While I was puz
zling myself over the matter another flash
of light came into my room, followed by a
small stone flung against the window
pane. I then. remembered these were the
signals agreed on in case Policemin
Blind needed me in the night I quietly
dressed myself, all but my shoes, which I
carried in my hands. I listened for a mo
ment; the doctor was still snoring. I raised
my window, stepped ont on the veranda
roof, closed the window behind me, and
climbing down the trellis work soon stood
on the solid ground beside my assistant.
"Blow out your lantern. Blind, and tell me
briefly what you have to tell while I am
putting on my shoes."
"She ha3 left the hotel. I mean Mrs.
Glaye, and she is wandering abont the
fields. She first went to the blackberry
bushes where the body was found, and then
to the deserted old house bv the pond, where
I left her to run to you. She's got a lighted
candle and is poking around the place as if
she is looking for something.. You can see
the light from here."
I glanced in the direction pointed out,
and, true enough, I saw streaks of light
shining through the chinks of the rotten
house.
"Keep watch on the doctor's cottage.
Blind, from the safe retreat of the bushes
yonder, I will take care ot my lady."
With the words I started off at" a brisk
trot toward the house bv the pond. I,
puffed like a miniature steam engine when
I reached it, but peeping in through a
chink, I was rewarded by discovering .Mrs.
Glaye still wandering about with a lighted
candle in her hand carefully studying the
mouldy funguseated floor of the room. She
was dressed in the same attire in which she
received me, with the additions of a bonnet,
and the shawl from which a fragment had
been torn by the blackbeny bushes on the
night ot the" murder. Her face was flushed
and excited, and her lips continually moved
as if she was speaking to herself. At inter
vals she groaned'as if in grief or pain, and
once she uttered in a voice that was almost
a shriek, the wt&rd "Murder!"
To fie continued nezt Sunday.
We Can GItb John Ball Pointers.
Boston Herald.
England is following in American foot
steps. She now proposes having a rapid de
livery stamp to stick upon letters "as tbey
do in the States," which insures their im
mediate delivery. Our congratulations!
The 1-cent postage is also coming along, Mr.
Bull.
PITTSBURG' " DESPATCH,
A NEW ERA IN HOMES.
Builders Waking Up to the .Beauty
of Old Virginia Palaces.
PAST STILES COMING IN AGAIN.
What
Energetic Northerners Are
With Crumbling Ruins.
Doing
THE APPAEEL OF THE CENTDRT GOHE
iTrarmx ron ihi oisrATCH.r
N a balcony at night,
and in England
once said a gentle
man: "Those old
Virginians surely
know f.ow to live;
and though I am
native here.I do con
fess that in some in
stances they ap
proached nearer the
accomplishment of
the ideal English
home than ever we
did ourselves. They
seem to have em
bodied in their dis
tinctive style bits of
the beautifnl of all
the arts and archi
tectures, and to have
known just where the meaning of the Saxon
word borne begins and ends jurt where a
home runs into something too great, too
public, too'palatial to 'bear any longer the
term so dear to the heart of every true son of
British' blood."
And this from a gentleman, a scholar, a
critic and a poet, whose name is seen every
day in print, and .whose songs are on the
lips of half the singing world. Coming
from one whose opportunities have been
large, and to whose judgment all the Na
tion bows with at least the show of deference,
this was a great deal to say, and speaks well
for the geniusofthe old Virginians.- Whether
it be true or not, one cannot well visit Ar
lington, Carter Hall, The Tuleyries, Mon
ticello, Montpelier,- Harewood, Clavmont
Court, Westover, Brandon, Carter's Grove,
Shirley, or any other of those fine old man
sions which dot the beautiful country
throughout Virginia without giving voice
to a similar expression.
BITS OF OLD "WORLD AKCHITECTUBE.
I think it is easy to see that settlers of a
new country, separate from the old by an
ocean, in casting about for models after
which to rear their homes, should gather to
gether bits of what is good and beautiful of
the Old World architecture and embody it
in a style that would be peculiarly and dis
tinctively their own; for there is nothing
here to imitate or build upon.
It is easy, too, to understand how this
phase of architecture was from time to time
copied and modified for good or bad and for
the period of the past century, until now
there is nothing of the new to outdo or
eclipse the old. In time it may be, when
the old, which is most purely American,
shall have been merged into the new, or the
new into the old. There has been for some
years a passion for something so modem,
even if as it not unfrequently happens it
is painfully and sadly so. That which has
satisfied the taste for beauiiful home build
ing and met with the approval of the ages
is ignored in this mad hunt for something
Carter Hall, Ktar Millwood, Va.
new. Hence it is that the architecture of
the present day and of America has no
national significance; nothing distinctive is
now typical of us unless it be shreds and
patches and grafts from . every other nation
of the world, and which must some day
seem reliquise oi the stuff of which night
mares are made.
A EESTJBBECTION OF THE OLD.
But there is coming on a revolution in
architecture, and it will be essentially a
resnrrection of the old. Down here in Vir
ginia come gentlemen of wealth and entcr
Srise from New York, Boston and the
Forth, gathering together what are now al
most a mass ol ruins, propping up old pil
lars, polishing rusty domes, gilding turrets,
setting fountains spinning, bnilding huge
walls, enclosing parks and pleasure grounds,
grading beautiful lawns, breeding beautiiul
horses, driving magnificent coaches, blaz
oned here and there with gold and filigreed
metal, and set with monograms of purest
gold. The old lions on the old gate posts
are restored to their perch, and the tradi
tional family flunkey and footman have
somehow been found again after all these
years of wandering, and the glad new days
spin ns serenely now at some of these old
Virginia homes as come our dreams by
night of the picturesque, palatial pass.
As an instance, there is now in the neigh
borhood of Charleston, W. Va., an Old
house, once the home of Bushrod Washing
ton, bnt at present the property of a gentle
man from Philadelphia, which bespeaks the
splendor ot the Southern home as truly now
as it did in the long ago. There are the
noble pillars, fountains and gardens, noble
trees and beautiful lawns, statues and tur
rets, domes and spires, balconies, lovely
carriage ways and walks, and all the old
world paraphernalia.
"WHAT HAS ALBEAST BEEN DONE.
Every one knows how Mr. Jefferson M.
Levy, oi New York, has made Monticello
once more the palatial dwelling it was in
the time of Jefferson, and how Mr. L. F.
Detrick, of Baltimore, made of the tottering
ruin of Montpelier the beautiful home it is
at present. Colonel TJ. L. Boyce, the happy
possessor of the Tuleyries, said to me once
in conversation "that he could only hope to
restore the old place to its former beauty,
for there was not a new idea among all the
architects with whom he had conversed
upon the subject which would in the least
aid or embellish the old."
To one of these fine old places an archi
tect of New York was called to see if he
could not improve some of the old work,
which was fast going to rack; "and," said
the gentleman, "I do not only want the old
repaired, bnt I wish you to stndy ont a plan
by which we can runout a wing in some di
rection so as to give us more room, and,
perhaps, add something to. the beauty of the
place.
So the architect made his drawings and
went homeward. Alter some while back:
came a drawing and suggestion (the
38551
-X NJjlHj
The Aleyrttt, Clarke County, Va.
"SsSIIbS'1
SUNDA"?, JUNE 29 ,
only one the artist had to'offer, he said), that
a wing could be run out toward the west,
with gabled roof, and over the end a tower.
And so it was done.
IT WAS AN OLD IDEA.
That was all, bnt it was remarkable that
just such a wing, running just in that direc
tion, and wiih that identical tower, but with
yet the addition of a conservatory, as.it was
afterwards discovered, had stood there over
100 years ago and had been forgotten.
But I have said that there is coming on a
revolution in architecture, and that it will
be essentially a revolution of the old, and I
claim that my reasons therefor are sound.
Looking over the country at present, per
haps the most gorgeous specimens of archi
tecture are to be found in the cities where
wealth and affluence do not necessarily
or always go hand in hand with ele
gance, beauty and comfort, but the ex
hibitions there of true home-building are
very rare indeed. It is in the country
round about the cities of the North, or in
very remote places in the South that the
genuine spirit' for the beautiful has been at
work. Even in the cities the newer squat
sort of patchwork-architecture is slowly but
surely taking on suggestions of the old.
The old tower has been long in fashion;
but bereyou find a bit of old Corinthian pil
lar or cornice, there a jot of the Doric in the
matter of dome or turret or balcony; here,
again, in decoration, an idea as old as Dam
ascus, there, in outdoor surrounding, some
thing strongly remindinl or the banging
gardens of old, or perhaps, of what Eden
once was.
"WE MAT "WEAR OLD CLOTHES.
And this is all called new, original and
beautiful; yet it is old, very old. and unim
proved indeed by any of what could possi
bly be called new. Olten we hear that so
and so has just finished up a 'room, a whole
room, with everything strangely new, but
all so beautifully old. Huge old fireplaces,
quaint old andirons and tongnes and fend
ers, quaint carpetings and rugs and skins,
and old jewel-like Italian frames and por
traits, quaint old clocks, and fire-screens.
and boms, and snufi boxes, and leather
trunks, and quaint old everything. I think
this indicates something.
I think it is something, too, that the ad
miration for the picturesque short clothes
and apparel ot the gentlemen of the past
century is growing stronger and more uni
versal, and threatens even a revolntion in
the matter of dress. This may seem to have
little to do with architecture, and soyit hasr
but the indication is most sure and certain,
and not to be mistaken. '
And when these beautiful old homes, now
so eagerly sought for, and now so surely
going into decay, shall have gotten fewer,
others will spring up in their stead and
about them, and then the revolution will be
upon us, and the beginning of it will be
down here in old Virginia. Mark it
Wilmee Wellington.
HE HAULED BBONSON ALCOTT.
Frettr Little Story of ibe Philosopher Told
by a Politician.
Boston Globe.
Sherman Hoar, the brilliant young lawyer
and Mugwump politician, younger son of E.
Bockwood Hoar, of Concord, tells with a
relish this story at his own expense:
"Some years ago I was at Concord spend
ing a vacation. I wasn't putting on much
style, but was having a thoroughly good
time. One day I was out in a rustic rig used
about the farm, and was drqssed in hayseed
clothes. Bronson Alcott was alive then,
and coming down the road I overtook the
old philosopher.
" 'Hold on, young man,' he said, HI want
you to drive me to the station. It is nearly
time for my train, and I am afraid I shall
lose it.'
'All right, sir,' I replied, 'get in.'
"He did so, and we started for the station.
On the way down we passed my sister. She
bowed and of course I returned her saluta
tion. Mr. Alcott seemed to be surprised
and pleased.
" 'That is charming' he said. 'The sweet
city maiden salutes the rnstic swain, and
he, knight-like, acknowledges her saluta
tion. They meet on a common level.'
"I said nothing, and when we leached the
station be said, 'Young man, what is the
charge?
" A quarter,' I responded, and he paid
it. I have the piece now, and I never look
at it without smiling aud thinking how eas
ily I earned it."
CLEVELAND OK HIS 0T7THTO.
Dressed In Rongli CloibeaHe Ii theFIctnro
of Bustle Contentment.
Boston Globe.1
Mr. Cleveland and his wife have been
here since Jane 7, and the ex-President has
been roughing in true seashore style. When
I saw him be was all ready for a fishing trip
which he had planned -with Bev. Mr..Ful
ler and Mr. Gilder, He wore old shoes,
loose trousers, a flannel shirt, a light coat
and a straw hat, and was the picture .of rns
tic contentment. This has been his rig ever
since his arrival here except on what might
be termed a few ceremonious occasions.
The ex-President is an early riser, and,
after his breakfast, looks over bis mail,
which is at no time small. Pleasant niter
noons he spends on the fishing gronnds.
SkippesBoyal Eyderof the sIood Allie is
proud of the distinguished fisherman. This
old tar has become very friendly with Mr.
Cleveland and has many anecdotes to tell.
He said to me that it was a pretty safe bet to
make that if there were any fish in the
vicinity of the boat Mr. Cleveland was sure
to land them. He's the most persistent of
fishermen, and becomes so interested in the
sport that the sun coes down at times before
we make tracks for home.
Thursday night it was 8 o'clock before the
ex-President and his companions returned.
All 'had been lucky, and had strings of
handsome bass. While they were on the
fishing grounds a heavy shower passed over
the bay, but the party was well protected by
oil and rubber clothing.
THE SULTAIT AT DIM EH.
His Highness Believes Finger Were
In.
vonted Before Forks.
The Larder.'
The Sultan never uses a plate. He takes
all his food direct from the little kettles,
and never uses a table, and rarely a knife or
fork a spoon, his bread, a pancake, or fin
gers are fonnd far handier. It requires just
twice as many slaves as there are courses to
serve a dinner to him.
The whole household is at liberty to take
meals where it suits him or her best, and
thus every one is served with a small tray,
with a spoon, a great chunk of bread, and
the higher ones only get the pancakes.
Nearly; one ton of rice per day is required
for the inevitable pillaffe, 600 pounds of
sugar, as much coffee, to say nothing of the
other groceries, fruit, vegetables and meat.
Bice and mutton and bread form the greater
parto the food for the majority ot Turks
together with fish, sweetmeats, confection
ery, nuts, and dried and fresh iruits.
That there is enormous waste and extrava
gance in the kitchens is obvious, and it is said
that enough is thrown away daily to main
tain 100 families. All the water for the
Sultan's use and the drinking water (or the
houshold is brought in barrels Irom two
pretty streams at different places in the Bos
phorus toward the Black Sea.
PAT COLLINS WALKS.
Ho Owes His Good Health to nil Persist
ence n a Pedestrian.
Boston Globe.
Washington street pedestrians will not
see the tall and' familiar form of General
Patrick A. Collins for some weeks to come.
He has gone far out to Idaho on business.
For the past year hardly a day has gone by
that he did not walk in from his Dorchester
home to his office, a distance of four miles.
'II can make it in about an hour," he Baid,
"and it gives me health and appetite. I
weigh more and feel better every way. ' It
seems good to go to bed at 10 o'clock and
get up at 6. The pleasures or private life
are much greater than to be found in the
bright gunlisht of publicity.' "
1890;
ACTOR AN0 MANAGER.
How Both Are Sweltering With Heat
and Anxiety in New Tork.
GEAND RUSH OF THE SOUBRETTES.
The Field Occupied by the Dramatic Agency
and Its Usefulness.
POPDLAE LADIES KOW 05 THE STAGE
fCORRXSPOXBElTClE OT Tint BISrjLTCH.1
New Yobk, June 28. Ol the hundred
and odd thousands of people who attend
the theaters nightly throughout the coun
try, few, perhaps, give a thought to the
labor involved in the formation of a theat
rical company necessary to the production
oi the entertainment. Those that do -probably
know nothing abont it, I thought of
this the other day while sitting in the office
, of a well-known theatrical manager, Mr.
Thomas H. Davis, who is also Secretary of
the Dramatio Managers' Association. This
is the season of the year when managers of
the various combinations which are to go
upon the road next season are making up
their list of performers and arranging dates
for the production of their plays. At this
season the office of a New York manager is
a very busy place.
As old a theater-goer as I am myself, I
confess that i had very little idea of the
routine necessary to bring the actor and the
manager together. Nearly all of the plays
that are produced under the combination
system are cast here in New York. For this
reason the metropolis is the Mecca for actors
and actresses of all grades and specialties.
A large number of these people swarm about
the managerial offices and press their own
claims With energy and ability. .
THE LADIES AREN'T BACEWABD.
On the particular occasion ot which I
speak, half a dozen women called within
half an hour, and taking the manager aside
briefly filled him up, so to speak, with their
individual merits and professional charms.
Modesty is lost on a manager, and very little
modesty will be observed among these ap
plicants stating their own cases.
"It is a very difficult and trying matter,"
said the manager, "to find a woman who
can fill the requirements of the modern
soubrette. I am going to try an experiment
this season with lour soubrette parts in a
single piece, and I hope to encourage such
a rivalry between them as to draw ont their
best qualities. You know these peonle are
very jealous of each other, as a general
thing."
"Please tell me something abont son
brettes. What are the -requirements and
what makes them so difficult'to obtafn? '
"This is the age of the soubrette," said
the manager. "The farce comedy which is
jnst now the rage brings that class into
prominence never before known. The
sonbrette and the low comedian are the two
real leading features of the American stage
to-day in points ofnumbers and importance.
Promenading ud and down Broadway
every afternoon are several hundred women
of varions ages and more or less loudly
dressed, who call themselves soubrettes.
They have played a small soubrette some
where at some time, and from that time on
besiege the managers for an engagement.
A good many of these don't want an en
gagement, as they live by their wits.
VEBT DIFFERENT FEOil OLD TIMES.
"The soubrette part is a very attractive'
one and requires peculiar talents wholly
dissimilar to the demands of the stage of 20
years ago. It was then the women who
could take emotional roles, society charac
ters, leading busiuess, juvenile parts, and so
on. The present demand is for a woman
anywhere between the age of 18 and 25. who
is bright, petite, vivacious and sprightly of
manner ana wno can sing and dance, as
well as cleverly act. Personal attractive
ness goes a great ways with the soubrette,
and if she be a beauty and yonng and have
the above requirements she can make all the
way from $60 to ISO a week. Beauty is
not necessary, however, and is, in fact, rare
among good soubrettes, but she must have
personal attractiveness.
"Her early training is more than likely
to have been received in the variety thea
ters. Most of the soubrettes of any reputa
tion to-day come from the variety and music
halls. They form the training s'chool of the
soubrette."
"Who are, in your opinion, the leading
soubrettes of the American stage to-day?"
THE ITEADINQ SOUBEETTES.
To mention them by name seems invidi
ous. Let me see; there is Katie Hart,, late
of Tony Pastor's Variety Theater, now of
'Natural Gas;' Delia Fox, now playing at
the Broadway in 'Castles in the Air;' Kate
Davis, with Monroe and Bice; Lena Mer
ville and Marion Elmore, both graduates of
the London music halls. Lena Merville is
in the 'Sea King' this week; Marion Elmore
has married and retired, you know. There
is Flora Moore, whom 1 have just engaged
a3 soubrette with my new play, 'The
Hustlers,' who is pretty well known by
those who have seen 'The Bunch of Keys'
and Mestayer's productions. She is also a
graduate of Tony Pastor'sand the variety
theaters and Is one of the most high-priced
soubrettes on the American stage. Theie are
Lillian and Daisy Ramsden, who came from
the music halls of London. Ollie Arshmere,
a California sirl, and Carrie Tutien. Both
sing in comic opera now, but go with farce
comedy the coming season. Tbeie are
"Vivian, Emily and' Veevie, sisters, who
formerly did sketches in the variety busi
ness, bnt who also now go with farce comedy.
The latter played in "The Still Alarm' last
season. There are the Irwin sisters and
Eosa France in 'The City Directory,' The
latter appears in the 'Three Rose Buds' and
dances the skirt dance. There are the
French sisters who are wives of Evans and
Hoey of 'Parlor Match' notoriety. And
there is Alice Harrison, who has also been
with 'The City Directory' recently. Patrice,
who was with Boland .Reed, 'Lost in New
York,' etc.; Annie Lewis, with 'Later On,'
Patti Bosa, who is now starring, and Flora
Walsh, Hoyt's wife, who goes next season
with rA Texa8teer,' are some others.
SOUBEETTES THE MANAOEBS HUNT.
The popular and high-priced sonhrettes
are generally modest in attire and equally
so in language. You never hear one of
them using variety slang. She is in such
demand that she does not have to hunt the
managers, for the managers are hunting
her. She is a conscientious worker and a
hard student, and has no time to be loafing
on Broadway, and that is the reason you
never see her with the mob.
"The imported soubrette is not as good as
her American sister. She has not the
natural sprightliners and keen sense of
humor that are a part of almost every
American girl. The character of humor
which she brings from London would put
the American audience to sleep, or drive it
out of the house. The English soubrette,
however, usually excels in dauciug and
singing, and the song aud dance are a diffi
cult combination. She has enjoyed a better
schooling in the variety business than is
usually the case with the American girl.
Her methods require a good deal of cor
rection before she is fitted for our farce
comedy parts."
"Where oo the dramatio agencies come
in?"
FIELD OF THE DBAMATIO AGENCIES.
"Some of the managers use dramatic
agents to secure their people. This is be
cause they are not posted themselves as to
the individual record of the parties to be
engaged. The first-class farce comedy
manager only uses agents in securing the
addresses, aud is able to judge of their abil
ities himself. The man who has not been
in the business must rely more or less ou
the dramatio agent to fill" his company, and
in doing so he will very often get left with
poor people. His mistakes cost him or his
backer that much money." .
An coBuecwon wun tnls business, which
hnt inmnMi .!... , V , ,
of io much, p ominenca in New York, is
the feature of the dramatio agency. The
dramatic agent is the medium between the
out-of-town manager and the traveling man
ager as well as between the performer and
his or her employer. There are at leasts a
dozen well known dramatic agencies In New
York. In a larze building, a few doors
from the Dramatic New office, on Thirtieth
street, is one of the most prominent. It is
an old residence building remodeled on tbe
lower floors, three of which are occupied by
tbe business. At times there are within
sight on these pretty days perhaps 100 in
dividuals, and 76 out of thd 100 are con
nected with the dramatio profession in some
capacity.
STALLS LIKE OLD-FASHIONED PEWS.
On the plate glass of the lower floor will
be seen the names of 40 to 50 managers of
tbe different combinations which will cater
for the publio amusement throughout the
United States during the dramatic season.
Within are two long lines of stalls which
strongly resemble pews in the old-fashioned
colonial churches. These stalls with the
desks and fixtures are rented by theatrical
managers who come to New York to book
their annual attractions at the rate of 75 to
$500 per annnm. This is not merely for
desk privilege, but is also the compensation
of the agency which acts as middle man be
tween the traveling and the local manager.
Just now nearly every one of these stalls
is daily occupied by its temporary owner,
who is busily engaged in arranging dates
for the plays that are being booked for his
theater or circnit ot theaters in some section
of the country. Here he may be Iound and
here he gets his mail. Sometimes he does
the business here and sometimes on the curb
in the vicinity. If in tbe latter instance
you will see him pull from his vest pocket a
little book called a "date book," in which
he has arranged seriatim tbe engagements
already made, and which shows at a glance
the open dates which he has yet to fill.
NEGOTIATING PEBSONAL ENGAGEMENTS.
In this same building, on the third floor, a
large, masculine looking woman sits all day,
acting as a like intermedium for the actor
and manager in the arrangements of per
sonal engagements. The rooms are crowded
just now with all classes of actors and
actresses on the look out for contracts for the
coming season. These rooms are very elabor
ately fitted up. On the walls are upward of
1,000 pictures, portraits of the men and
women of to-day best known to the profes
sion. In the crowd, waiting his or her turn,
is every variety of Dlaver. from "Little
Lord Fauntleroy" up to the old woman and
old man of the legitimate.
The dramatic agency as here represented
is a thing of comparatively recent growth.
Theatrical managers, as a rule, decry the
theatrical agency, bnt are compelled to
patronize it because the shrewdness and
energy of those who have built up tbe sjs
tetn has made it an essential part ot the
business.
From all tbe complaints heard of the
dramatic agency as it is to-day the outsider
must naturally inquire why the National
Dramatic Managers' Association does ndt
have a well conducted bureau of its own in
New York to insure the desired results with
less friction and at less expense to all
parties. In a business involving, as this
does, millions of dollars every year, and
thewell being of thousands connected with
it, it would seem that those who are most
interested might devise a better system of
reaching the desired end.
Chables T. Mubbat.
BABYS SECOND STJIQDEB.
Fresh Air and Care of tbe Diet Wanld
Sare a Great Many Iiiale Lire.
rwniTTiH ron thi Disrjtxcn. ,
The summer has leaped upon us like a
ravenous tiger. The human frame has be
come enervated by the long rainy season of
April aud May, the pore3 of old earth have
opened wide and the atmosphere is murky
and clings to the flesh and the lungs like
wet wool, robbing the muscles of strength
and leaving no soundness of nerve within
us. Our appetites cry out against the or
dinary consumption of food, and our diges
tions adapt themselves but languidly to
their duties.
It is a critical period for grown people,
but how mttch more for child-life and those
poor little morsels of humanity who have
not yet weathered their second Bummer.
How many city babies have I seen enjoying
apparently exceptional health until " the
slow, sullen June suns, so particularly try
ing to babies everywhere, have visibly and
mysteriously changed these conditions. The
pretty head droops and sways like a slowly
withering flower, the once hard mnscles be
come flaccid, and the breathing grows more
and more labored in the still hot air. He
eagerly craves liquid nourishment, and tbe
poor little stomach soon rejects thejinac
customed quantity of food; his eyes 'grow
dull and heavy, or perhaps unnaturally
large and clear, until the poor mother's
heart grows faint with nameless iorebod
ings. This is the experience of almost every
mother to whom several children have al
ready been granted, and it is true that while
drug's in and of themselves alone never did
enre and never can cure anybody, yet some
babies must go out of town and have instant
change ot air and place, or else go out of
life. Early or late summer heats will surely
unuermine tne vuai strengtn oi every city
and town-bred bahy. The young mother, no
less than the one of three or more yountr
children, should so order ber domestic ar
rangements that a Short sojourn m tbe coun
try can be undertaken at a day's notice. An
abundance of pure, sun-warmed, living air,
whether it be lrom the mountain, or the sea,
without exposure to damp draughts or to
tbe direct ray3 of the midday sun; this is
what baby needs, what you need, what we
all need.
In choosing a summering place for a fam
ily put baby's interests in the foreground.
Whyis it that with such constant and in
creasing demand as there certainly is, so
few country boarding houses and hotels
make a specialty of studying and supplying
baby's needs, and inviting rather than
slighting the little charges.
It is a ridiculous prejudice to suppose that
the second summer of a baby's life is more
precarious than tbe first. It demands fewer
victims, and any sensible physician will
indorse my statement. But the second
summer costs more lives than it ought to.
The fault lies not with the second summer,
nor with the children, but with the heat
and the parents. Summer heat combined
with bad diet frequently becomes fatal. All
mothers know that sickness among children
in summer is caused by some derangement
of the digestive organs, and that were these
organs not permitted to become diseased fa
tal cases might be averted. Now it is usual
ly thesecond summer in which we begin the
artificial feeding of our babies. HeDce it is
to tbe ignorance and negligence in the selec
tion and cooking of the tood that we owe the
slaughter ol our innocents and not to the
st-cond summer. With proper food and in
telligent care lew, it any, babies need suffer
from stomach or bowel "troubles. And the
rules lor the wholesome feeding of children
are so simple I Perhaps it is their simplicity
that causes their non-observance. Can any
thing be more preposterous in tbe matter bf
feeding children than allowing them to par
take of every possible article of food placed
on the family table.
"What does the child eat?" was the first
question asked by a dear old German physi
cian, lamous for his treatment oi children's
diseases.
"Anything;" or, "It eats whatever is on
the table." was the usual reply.
"Ei ! Ei I" he would exclaim. "Candy,
sour milk, fresh bread, sausage, coffee and
tea, raw fruit and vegetables. The result?
Of course, diarrheal diseases and death!
And then you say the canse of death was
second summer! Ach, mein Gott!"
F. K. B. Wade.
The Demon of Ihe Mnreb,
Tbe evil spirit that hovers about sUcnant pools
and Inundated lowlands is no materialized
bogey, no phantasm of a disordered Imagina
tion, but a power of evil far more malieuant
than any familiar anathematized by Cotton
Mather. It Is malaria, which" has for its de
structive progeny fever and ague, bilious re
mittent and dumb ague, conquerable witn
iaosieiters Btomacn amen, as bio ujw,y,
constipation, lirer complaint, etc
GOING WITH A RUSH.
America Tears Throush life With
Bijj Fires in the Furnace
AND THE SAFETY VALYE SNORTING.
Instances In Every Day Events of Energy
Worse Than Wasted.
DELIBERATION ACCOMPLISHES HOST
nrsniEr tob thi dispatch, t
"We Americans are a restless, rollicking set of
mortals, always on the move, and never content
nnless things are going at lull pressure. A
slow train is a nuisance, an old plug of a horsa
Is an abomination and a slnsgish steamboat is
a perfect trial. Nor is this characterlstla
peculiar to tbe native born American alone.
The plodding Englishman or the phlegmatic,
German for a few years, it may be goes on the
even tenor of hid way, bat in the course ot time
he walks quicker, talks quicker and drinks his
beer with as much avidity as one to the manor
born. The motire influence mnst be in the air
we breathe. When the American atmosphere
can be critically and qaantitivelr analysed we
shall find there is something wonderfully stim
ulating about lc
Now a largo part of this hurry and scurry Is
needless, and is simply a sad waste of energy.
If we conld take a census of tbe needless pnlsa
beats of this great nation what a mighty aggre
gate it would make. Waste is always disas
trous, sooner or later; yea. is not willful wastea
sin. Its usual product, woeful want, proves
that at least it is foolish. Deliberation in tha
long run accomplishes more than heedless
harry, if that deliberation does Dot degenerate
into absurd sluggishness and pig-headed con
servatism. How Mankind Resembles Hosklnd.
In Summit county, O.. a few days ago a
farmer, worth $100,000. 6 feet high, and weigh
ing 180 pounds, who bad never seen a day's
sickness in his lire, undertook on a wager to
eat 28 hard-boiled eggs. Ho ate them all and
covered himself with glory, bat his celebrity
was short-Iired. for in three weeks the clods of
the valley covered his stalwart body, and he be
came food for tbe worms. Ona wonld think
that a man who conld accumulate 5100.000 at
farming would not make such an idiot of him
self for so brief a notoriety. His astronomi
cal energy was commendable if his object was
to show the close affinity that exists between
mankind and hockmd. bnt hi discretion was
abominably out of gear. He wasted his energy.
LenTlns Pfrnsant Homes.
Two-tnirds of tbe well-to-do families of onr
large cities are even now proving the truth of
our proposition. In the city of Pltt3burg. for
instance, there are hundreds of pleasant homes
with every conceivable modern convenience
bathrooms, large, lofty apartments, shady
lawns and somnambnlent nooks and corners in
doors and out, where Veary bodies might find
needed rest; choice eatables in abnndance,
rapid transit witbont stint, and a thousand and
one comforts that country people know nothing
of. And yet these city f olWs will soon leave, or
have left, these pleasant homes in the city to
spend seven or eight weeks in some gizantls
caravansary, where hundreds of weary mortals
congresate, or tbey will go to some remote
farmhouse to sleep in stuffy rooms, eat salt
meat and drink water that too often owes its
flavor to the close Droxkmtyot the barnyard.
To do this requires a vast amount of self-denial
and energy. How much of this is wasted
energy?
Tbe Hammer Reaart Craze.
Mrs. Grundy Is a tyrant, and, at her irra
tional dictum, society mast bow. Recreation
aud oxygen are what onr city people ara after,
they tell ns. Welt, if it be recreation to sit at
a public dining table with hundreds of strang
ers all through the torrid heat of summer,
surely they get it. As to tbe oxygen, is it not
possible, as already hinted, that soma of It may
be imbibed in liquid form? Poor, frail mor
tals, who, when at home, cannot submit to tha
slightest inconvenience, will endnre anything
to please the old lady mentioned above. Wonld
it not be better, as some Indeed do,
to spend tbe hottest summer months at home,
if it be snch a home as those described, and
then, when the delightfnl fall comes, with its
bealtb-ziYinr. bracine breezes and its chanzlsc:
leaves, to sea, to forest and to mountain hia
themT Recuperation would naturally follow
such a course, and Instead of commencing tha
winter season worn out with summer rambtinfrs
as some do, our society ladles wonld. like tha
rosy fruits of fair October, bear tbe bloom of
healthy beauty, instead of tbe frail, faded baa
so often seen. Unnecessary exertion indulged
in to keep on good terms with 21n Grundy is
wasted energy.
The Modern Church Festiyal.
There is a vast amount of unnecessary en
deavor expended lo our churches. The ladies,
(God bless them), will and do occupy two or
three days getting up a festival or supper. They
contribute time, money and strength in pre
paring, and then are generally tbe best cus
tomers themselves. A cash contribution from
each family interested, exceeding not mora
than is usually spent upon such affairs, would
in many cases net as much profit as is gained
when all the endeavor has been expended.
Why people should rather stuff themselves
with ice cream, cake, strawberries, oysters and
indigestion isa question reason refuses to an
swer. Is it liOt possible to have enjoyable
social intercourse without punishing tha
stomach? Is that organ the only avenue to tha
purses of the sterner sex? A. man ot pood di
gestive powers who cannot be placated by a
good dinner is little less than a heathen, bnt at
least one half of them do not possess the pow
ers of assimilation that tbe majority of people
impute to them. Taking it all in all and strik
ing an average, a church festival is a piece of
wasted energy.
Folly Among laborers.
As a rule, the easiest way is always tha best.
Let an observant and thoughtful man watch
two or three laboring men at work where lift
ing and moving of heavyweights is a feature.
Unless directed by a "boss," whose mind is at
work, they will use a large amount of unneces
sary physical strength. Tbey seem to forget
that there is snch a thing as leverage. Is It
rizbt to use to its fall tension all your strength
when it can be so easily economized? It is said
that out of every five persons engaged in any
thing like mnscular labor, one will be fonnd to
wear trusses or some other kind of appliance to
render a ruptnre tolerable. The majority of
these cases are undoubtedly the f rnit of a prof
ligate expenditure of energy. Men of unusual
streoctb sometimes delight to show their physi
cal prowess, and, as a result of such exhibi
tions, tbey bring upon themselves disastrous
weakness Many an apparently gigantic body
is harnessed with invisible supports withovt
which it would be little less than a wreck. En
ergy wasted; yes, worse than wasted.
Wnite In ihe Pnlptr.
As a necessary accomplishment for ordina
tion to the gospel ministry a knowledge of
Greek and Hebrew is considered essential. Re
ligious papers are loudly and vainly calling for
men to till vacant pulpits. Adequate prepara
tion for the office of minister is attained by
about ten years of incessant study, a great part
of that time being occupied in twisting around
tbe gymnasticisms of Greek verbs and Hebrew
hieroglyphics- If the Bible has been translated
correctly by the brightest intellects of tbe ages,
and is rendered in the best English possible,
why is it necessary for every student to
seek to qualify himself to do that which has
been so well done by others? Not one in fifty
of our preachers are really Greek scholars, and
very of ten tbe nrl ciple that "a Utile learning
is dangerous thine"1 meets with affirmation In
this connection. It is a great temptation to a
man po sossing a smattering of Greek or
Hebrew to air that fact before his congrega--tfon.
It is verj flattering to see the audienca
shake their heads at each other and to bear
them at the church door say "isnt he smart?"
If some of us ministers who at times forget om
sacred doty in snowing on our huuumu ul
a literary or oratoric sense, would spend mora
of our time feeding hungry souls there would
be less wasted energy in the pulpit and out of
it.
A COUNTBT PASS02T.
HANAGIirri A H0BSE.
If Be Get" Crnyikr Give Him More of tbe
Panel's Than Ho Intended io Take.
When a horse stops and proposes to turn
around," said a Fifth avenue liveryman the
other day, "don't resist the turn, but giva
him a quiet horizontal pull in tbe direction
he wants to turn, so as to carry him further
around than be intended to go, and ii pos
sible keep him going around half a doien.
times. In most cases this will upset all his
calculations, and he will co quietly on with
out much ado. If six turns will not do give
him 20.
"In fact, if he will keep on turning to
yonr rein you are sure to conquer, as enongh
turning will certainly contuse him, and
leave him at vour command. If ha will not
turn and will back to the rein, keep him
going backward in the direction you want
to go. He will soon get tired of that and
piefer to go with the right end forward; bat
before you let him go give him decidedly
more backing than he likes."