'3i y
,v
t
18
upon him that he had undertaken a telle en
tirely beyond his knowledge. For example,
he could purchase any quantity of crimson
satin; bal how or where was he going to get
it made up into a coverlet, or counterpane,
or quilt, or whatever the thing was called?
Then sunnosiug he had the mirror and the
lace, who was going to put tne ace round
the ton of the mirror? he could not do it
himself. A little set of ornamental book
shelves he could buy, certainly; but how
was he going to ask for the bows of ribbon,
or the silk draperv. or whatever it was
that ought to adorn the brass rods
st the head of the bed? The more
he considered the matter the more
clearlv he saw that he must consult a
woman, and the only woman he could con
suit in confidence was his aunt, Mrs. Elli
son, who had now returned to Brighton.
And perhaps he strove to conceal from him
seli what it was that so easily and natural
ly drew his thoughts to Brighton; perhaps
he was hardly himself aware how this secret
hunger of the soul was minute by minute
and hour bv hour increasing in its de
mands. Maisrie had not been so long away;
but already he felt that one brief glimpse of
her, no matter at what distance, would be a
priceless thing. And then again it would
not be breaking any compact He would
not seek to go near her, if there was this un
derstanding that these two were for the pres
ent separated the one from the other. She
would not even know he was in the town.
And surely it would be a new and wonderful
experience lo look at Maisrie irom afar off,
as if she were a stranger.
So instead ot going to Eesent street he
went to the nearest postoffice and tele
graphed to Mrs. Ellison, asking if she could
take him in for a day or two. Then he
walked on home, and by the time he had
reached Grosvenor place the answer was
there awaiting him; he was to go down at
once. He put a few things in his bag,
jumped into a hansom and drove to Vic
toria station, caught the 4:30 train, and
eventually arrived at Brunswick terrace
about 6. He jruessed that his aunt's after
noon visitors would be gone, and he would
have ample opportunity of a long talk with
her before dinner.
His anticipations proved correct. "When
he was shown into the big drawing room
which looked very snng and warm amid its
magnificence he found the tall and bright
eyed young widow in sole possession; and
she came forward to welcome him with great
complaisance.
"Very sensible of you, Vin. Yon know
lean always make room for you, no mat
ter who is in the house."
"If I had gone to a hotel, aunt, you would
have made an awful row, and I don't want
to quarrel with you just at present; the fact
is, I have come to you for advice and help,"
Baid he. "But first my congratulations t
I was hardly surprised when I got your let
ter; and I am sure no one can wish you
more happiness than Ido "
"Oh, be quiet," she said, and she took a
seat at a little distance from the fire, by the
side of a small table, and put a fau between
her eves and the crimson-sbaded lamp.
"Congratulations? Well, I suppose there
are no fools like old foois. But if grown-up
people will play at being children, and
amuse themselves bv writine things in the
sand did I tell you how it all happened?
they must take the consequences. And I,
who used to be so content! Haven't I often
told vou? Perhaps I boosted too much "
"OL, ye, pretend you regret it!" said he.
"And you talk of your being so old you!
why what girl of your acquaintance has
half your life and spirit, or half your good
looks either "
"Vincent Harris," said she, and she turned
round and faced him, "what do you want?"
He laughed.
"It is a very simple matter, aunt."
And then he began to tell her ot the little
predicament in which he was placed; and to
beseech her help. Would she come and
choose the things for him? There were
plenty of bric-a-brac shops in Brighton; she
would kno:r what was most appropriate; her
own house wire evidence of her taste. But
his ingeuous flattery was ot no avail. Mrs.
Epson's face grew more and more serious,
u-.i at leneth she exclaimed:
"Why, Vin, this is the very maddess of
infatuation! And I bad been hoping for far
other things. I had imagined from the tone
of your lust letter that perhaps there might
be a change thatyoureyes had been opened
at last. So this is going on just the same as
ever?"
"It is going on, as you call it, aunt; and
is likely to go on so long as I live."
"Then I, for one, wish to have nothing to
do with it," she said, sharply. "And this
last proposal is reallv too audacious. What
business have you with that girl's room?
what right have you to go into it?"
He was rather taken aback for a mo
ment. "Business? oh, none of course. "Sone
whatever that is to say oh. vest I have.
though! I have a perfect right to go into H
it. Ihe room is not hers. It is mine. I
have paid fur it. When she comes back it
will be hers; and where is the harm of her
finding it a little prettiei? that is all."
"I must say, Vin," she continued, in a
Tery reserved lasuion, "that the infatuation
of a voung man may excuse a good deal; but
this is a little a little too much. Do you
consider it quite nice quite becoming? A
satin counterpane! I wonder what the girl
would think herself if she has any refine
ment of feeling if she has any delicacy "
His lace grew very pale.
" 'It she has any refinement of feeling if
she has any delicacy,' " he repeated.
Then he roe.
"It is useless to say anything further,
aunt; there is an end this time."
But she had risen, too. He tried to pass
her and failed; nay, she went to the door,
and stood with h'er back against it, and
laced him.
2Jo, you shall not go," she said. "Whv
should there be any dissension? You aie
my own dear boy; I would do anything for
you except in this one direction "
"Except in this one direction!" he re
peated, scorniully.
"Why cannot" we remain friends?" she
said, with appealing eyes, "good and true
fiiend and agree to leave this one subject
alone?"
"This one subject that is my life!" he
said, vehemently. "What folly you talkl
You wish to cut away the very thine I live
lor, the very thing that is my liie; and to
continue j-onr friendship with what remains
a senseless stick or stone! And why? Be
cause of your insensate prejudice.your cruel
and baseless suspicions. Why do you talk
to me as if I were a boy? I have seen twice
as much of the world as you have; I have
had better opportunities of learning how to
judge strangers. Bnt you you live in a
narrow groove you have your maid to talk
to our acquaintances call in the alter
nuon your friends to dinner and what be
sides? That is your world. What do you
know of the human beings outside it?
Must they all be dishonest because they
have not Geen heard of by yonr handtul of a
set? Must they all be thieves and
swindlers because they are uot in
the Court Directory? But it
is little matter. It this sub
ject is debarred, then all is debarred, as
between you and me. -You can go your own
way, and" I mine. I did expect, now that
you have your owu happiness secured, you
might show some little generosity, some
little sympathy; but I see it is different;
and I will not allow one who is dearer to
me than all the world to be treated with
such enmity, while I am supposed to stand
by and accept it as a natural condition of
affiirs. I do not; I have had enough; and
so here is an end, as between you and me;
audi hope you will have more happiness
than you seem to -wish for other people."
Well, Mrs. Ellison was not used to giving
way; but slit was very fona of this proud
and handsome boy; and she gave just one
sob, and tears gathered in her eyes.
"You arc not very kind, Vin," she said.
And what marvelous thing was this that
instantaneously smote his heart? Why,
Maisrie had made use of this very expres
sion on the preceding afternoonl And all
of a sudden he seemed to recognize that his
adversary here was a woman; t.he was akin
to his beloved and there ore to be treated
fently; Maisrie's voice and eyes seemed to
e pleading for her; surely that was enough?
He hesitated lor a moment: then he said
"Very well: let it be as vou wish. We
shall see how we get on, with the one thing
that is of more importance to me than any
thing else shut out from mention. Bat I J
,J.--tim. ,- .-, i .-,.. f. ,..,. . fcL.--k-M .r,l ,h I I ll IMiBillll
must say this to you, aunt: I do not see I
am doing anything that the most fastidious
person can o'bject to if I put a few pretty
things into the room of the girl who is to
be my wife."
"How do you know that she is to be your
wile, Vin?" she said, rather sadly.
"I know," he made answer.
"My poor boy!" she said; and then the
took him bv the hand and led him back to
the little ta'ble at which they had been sit
ting; and there they had some further con
versation about more or less indifferent
things, with the one all-important subject
carefully avoided. And then it was time
for them to go away and dress for dinner.
Lord Musselburgh dined with them that
evening, and remained some time after the
other guests had gone. To Vincent it
seemed a puzzling thing that two betrothed
people should make so merry. They ap
peared so well content with their present es
tate; they were so assured as to the future;
no anxieties; no conflicting hopes and tears;
they were in the happiest mood. Next
morning, too, Lord Musselburgh again
made his appearance; and the three of them
went out lor a stroll along the prome
nade. All the world was shining fair
and clear; Mrs. Ellison was look
ing her best, and seemed to
know it; her fiance was in a humor. Why,
they were almost like the 'lover and his lass
of whom Thomas Morley sang nigh 300
years ago those 'pretty co'untry folks' who
lived in a perpetual spring time, with brids
singing hey-ding-a-ding-a-ding to them
through all the jocund hours. The tall and
elegant youug widow blushed and laughed
like a maid; her eyes were sarcastic, play
ful, amused, according to her varying mood;
the sunlight touched her pretty brown hair.
There was, indeed, a sort of audacity of
comeliness about her, that set Vincent think
ing of a very different kind of beauty the
beauty, that seems to be dowered with a
divine and angelic sadness. He was walk
ing with these two; but he did not take part
in their frolic talk; nor did he pay much at
tention to the crowd of people, the butterflies
of fashion, who had come out into the
pleasant sunshine. He seemed to see
before him .a face that, with all its
youth, and its touch of color
and its grace of ontline, was strangely pen
sive and wistin. And again he asked him
self, as many a time he had asked himself,
what that expression meant; whether it had
been brought there by experience of the
many viscissitudes of life, or by loneliness,
or whether it was not something more tragic
still the shadow ot an impending fate.
There was more than that h could not un
derstand; her curious resignation, her hope
lessness as to the future, her wish to get
away. And what was it she had concealed
from him? And why had she declared she
could not ever be his wife?
Tne morning went by, and Vincent had
caught no glimpse of Maisrie Bethune or
her grandfather; but indeed he had not ex
pected that; the old man would be busy
with his books, and it was not likely that
Maisrie would come wandering bv herself
tbrongh this fashionable throng. When at
last the three friends got back to Brunswick
Terrace, it was close on luncheon time;
though here Mrs. Ellison was mnch sur
prised to learn that Lord Musselburgh had
engaged Vincent to lunch with him at the
Bed ord Hotel.
"What's the matter?" said she. "Busi
ness or billiards?"
"Neither," her fiance made answer. ''I
only wanted to give you a little holiday for
an hour or two."
"Not longer, then," she said. "Fori am
going out driving at 3, and I shall expect
you both."
Soon the two young men were seated at a
little window table in the spacious and
cheerful coffee room; and again Vincent was
strnck by the eminently practical manner in
which his companion spoke of his forthcom
ing marriage. It was going to be, he frankly
intimated, a very uselul arrangement for
both Mrs. .Ellison and himself, and their
combined fortunes would enable them to do
what hitherto had been impossible for either
of them. Mrs. Ellison was fond of society;
he had always looked forward to the forma
tion of a political salon when once he got
married, and now he thought he could afford
to have a much bigger house, which
would be necessary for that purpose, than
his present one in Piccadilly. His place at
Meudover had not been properly looked
after of late; there would have to be some
expenditure there; the chief reception rooms
wanted a thorough overhauling, and a
wife's supervision would supplement the ad
vice of a professional decorator. Then there
were speculations as to whether he, Mussel
burgb. ought to accept office some subsidi
ary office, of course, as befitting his years
when his party came into power again. You
see, Vin Harris was being consulted now as
if he were a friend of the lamily. But as
lor Vincent's own affairs, not a word. Lord
Musseiburgh had received a hint and he was
discretion itself.
And yet, if ever in his life the younger of
those two friends had need of a confidant, it
was that afternoon, lor something had hap
pened that seemed to strike at the very roots
of his being. When it was about time for
them to go along to keen their appointment
with Mrs. Ellison Vincent was stand
ing in the hall of the hotel, wait
ing for Lord Musselburgh, who had
gone upstairs to his room; and he was idly
looting out upon the passing crowd, idly
and absently: there was no one there to in
terest him; very different it would be (he
was saying to hitnsell) toward 6 or 7 o'clock,
when perbaps Maisrie and her grandfather
would come out for a stroll belore going to
dine at one of the restaurants. At present
he had no sort of concern with all those peo
ple who went driving and walking.past, in
the duil sunshine of this wintry afternoon.
It was a pretty show; and that was all.
But of a sudden his heart stood still; and
his startled vision beheld what seemed incred
ible, and yet was there, and actual, and be
yond any doubt Ere he was aware, a ve
hicle had driven by a tall dog-cart, with
two figures in front and one behind; bat
another glance revealed to him that the one
behind was old George Bethune: who could
mistake at any distance the powerlul and
striking head, the shaggy eyebrows, the flow
ing white hair? And the two in front? one
was a young man, to Vincent unknown;
the other a terrible misgiving told him
that was Maisrie, though they were now
some way off What did it all mean? He
had neves beard of their knowing anyone in
Brighton. They had come down for seclu
sion, for work: yet here they were iu the
midst of the fashionable crowd; and a
young man a stranger was making osten
tatious display of his acquaintance with
them. A thousand wild surmises, the off
spring of a very madness of jealousy, sprang
into his brain. Why had the old man so
clearly intimated to him that he was not
wanted that they wished to go to Brighton
by themselves? And who was this person
who was making such open parade of his
intimacy with, the'm? Alas! there was no
answer to these burning and bewildering
questions; and he stood there breathless,'
alarmed, yet not daring to ask the cause of
his alarm.
Lord Musselburgh came along the hall.
"Sorry to have kept you waiting, Vin "
"Oh, don't mind that," the young man
said, striving to conceal his agitation. "The
fact is I I dont tbink-I will go driving
this afternoon; will you make my excuses'
to mv aunt ?"
"What's the matter?" said Musselburgh,
regarding him. "You look as if you had
seen a ghost or'a creditor; what is it, man?"
"Never mind never mind it is noth
ing," Vin naid, hastily. "I will see' you
later ou. Will you make my. excuses
thanks!"
The hall porter swung the door open, and
before bis astonished companion could re
monstrate he had passed out and down the
stone steps. He crossed over to lose him
self in the throng on the opposite promen
ade. The dogcart would be coming by
again; he would see who this new friend
was. Could he not hide somewhere? He
felt like a spy, like a traitor, with all those
dire imaginings surging through his bran.
And sudden wrath, too; he would demand
to Know by what right any stranger was
allowed to make Maisrie Bethune so con
spicuous. Why. it was too Dnblic it was
a boast; and hardly decent, either; ought
not respect lor age and white hair to nave
placed the old man in front, instead of
inviting all the world to witness the flatter
ing ot a young. girl? And as for Maisrie
well, even in his wildest and blackest sur-
t.- . h ' y -. -.
i.
THE
miies he could think, no serious barm of
Maisrie; but she was too yielding; she was
too generous with her favors; she ought to
make distinctions; she ought not to permit
this great, idle crowd to draw false conclu
sions. It was ill done of her behind his
back; had she so toon forgotten that he had
pledged his life to he not so very many
hours ago?
By and by he knew rather than saw that
they were returning. He was on the sea
ward side ot the road; there were a good
many people passing to and fro; moreover,
be was partly concealed by an open fly that
stood close to the railings. The tall dog
cart came swiftlv along; an unprejudiced
spectator would have said that the young
man who was driving was rather a good
looking young fellow, of the pink and white
type, with a small yellow mustache care
fully waxed at the ends, and clear gray
eyes. He. wore a buff-colored coat, with 'a
velvet collar of similar hue; he had a flower
in his button-hole. Then, again, bis turn
out was faultless a neatly appointed cart
a beautiful, high-stepping roan. All this
was visible at a glance.
But it was on Maisrie Bethune that
Vincent's gaze was bent; and as the drew
near, his heart was smitten at once with re
morse and with gratitude. Had he ex
pected, then, that she would be smirking
and smiling and coquetting with this new
acquaintance? On the contrary, Maisrie
sat there grave and silent and reserved; her
eyes were neither observant nor conscious;
once or twice they were turned toward the
sea. To Vincent she seemed so distinguished
looking, so refined, and noble, and sell
possessed, as contrasted with that fresh
corn plexioned country clown who had the
monstrous audacity to claim her as his com
panion. Then, as the dog cart went by, he
caught sight of George Bethune. He was
sitting rather sideways, to permit of his ad
dressing an occasional remark to the young
gentleman who was driving; no doubt that
was why Maisrie was allowed to remain
silent Perhaps she was thinking of some
one whom she thought to be far away ?
Strangely enough, as soon as they had
disappeared from view, his doubts and im
aginings grew black again. For a moment
that vision of Maisrie's sweet face had
charmed him out of himself; but now these
hideous questions rushed back upon him,
demanding an answer where there was no
answer. He did not attempt to reason him
self out of this paroxysm of jealousy; that
would have been useless; he could but sub
mit to this gnawing torture of anxiety and
suspense, while walking up and down, and
waiting, and fearing to find them coming
within sight once more.
They did not return. Shortly after four
the dusk began to fall; by half-past five
bla'ck night had enveloped sky and sea, and
the town was all ablaze with golden stars.
There were hardly any carriages now; the
people had betaken themselves to the other
side of the road, to look in at the glaring
shop-windows on their way home. Vincent
found himself more alone than ever; and
knew not what to do or which way to turn.
In his present frame of mind he dared not
go near the house in Brunswick Terrace; he
could not submit to cross-examining eyes.
It would drive him nad to talk, while those
rankling conjectures were busy at his heart
He wanted to see Maisrie again; and yet
dreaded to see her, lest he should find her
once more in the society of that man.
But about 6:30 his aimless perambulations
of the street became circumscribed. He
drew nearer to the neighborhood ot the restau
rants. If old George Bethune had brought
his London habits down with him, as many
people did, would not he soon make bis ap
pearance, along with his granddaughter?
Here in East street, for example, were cafes,
both French and Italian, where they could
have a foreign dinner if they chose. Would
he venture to addressthem? Wonld he con
fess he had seen them driving in the hope
they might volunteer information for which
he dared not ask? He could not tell; his
brain was in a bewilderment of anxiety and
unreasoning misery; and this grew worse,
indeed, as the slow minutes went by, and
there was no sign of the figures for whom he
was so eagerly watching.
And then a sickening thought occurred
to him. What if those two had been invited
to dine at a hotel by the country clod by the
young'man from the plow by the rutie dan
dy with the velvet collar? At the Old Ship,
most likely a private room a profusion of
flowers plenty of champagne Honde Jun
ior gay and festive. Cigarettes between the
courses Arry baying learnt so much from
the cheap society journals; and will not Miss
Bethune fee persuaded to join? Ah, well,
perbaps after dinner, when the liqeurs come
to be handed round. There is a piano in
the room; will Miss Bethune oblige with an
accompaniment? here is a smart little
thing "Kiss Me on the Sly, Johnnie!"
the latest draw at the music halls. . . .
Seven by tne big clock over the stationer's
shop; and still no sign of them. Clearly
they were not coming to any restaurant
herebaout. So at length he left East street
and went down to the King's road, and
waudered slowly along, glancing furtively
into this or that hotel especially where
some coffee room window happened to have
been left with the blind up. It was a vain
quest, and he was aware of it; but some
thing, he knew not what, drew him on.
And meanwhile his mind was busy with
pictures of a private room, and flowers, and
three figures seated at table. Ach weh!
mein Liebchen war die Brautl
At a quarter to 8, Lord Musselburgh was
shown into Mrs. Ellison's drawing room.
"Haven't you seen anything of Vin?" she
said, with astonished eyes.
"No nor you?"
"Nothing at all and now he won't have
time to dress for dinner."
"I shouldn't wonder if he did not tnrn up
for dinner," Musselburgh said. "Some
thing very peculiar happened to him to-day
I could" not precisely gather what but he
was obviously upset"
"Yes," said Mrs. Ellison, and her face
was graver than its wont "Something has
indeed happened to him to-day though he
himself is not aware of it as yet."
She went to a little cabinet, and took from
it two letters.
"I thought you ought to see both of
these," said she. "One is from my brother-in-law;
I got it just a minute or two after
you left The other is my answer; I will
have it posted as soon ss you have read it"
He took the first letter, which was from
Vincent's father, and read it carefully
through, without a word of comment. Then
he took the other, which ran as follows:
"Deak Habland-It is very terrible,
but I half suspected as much, and terrible
as it is there is nothing to bedone but to tell
Vin the whole truth, and at once. Tele
graph for him to-morrow morning on busi
ness ot importance; if he wants to come
down again I shall be ready with such con
solation as I can think of. I fancy from one
or two things that those people are here in
Brighton just now; all the more reason why
you should summon him home at once.
Poor boy, it will be a sad awakening. Bnt
he is young; he will getoverit, and perhaps
be none the worse in the end for this cruel
experience of the deceit and wickedness of
the world. Let me know how he takes it
Yours affectionately, Madge."
No, Vincent did not come in to dinner
that evening. He was still walking up and
down the King's road, glancing now and
again, butwith a sort ot hopelessness at any
little group of people that might appear at
the hall door of this or that hotel, and all
the while there was a fire eating at his-heart
To be Continued Next Sunday. ,
Whnt He Would Say.
New York 'World.J
"Ah, little boy," said the minister on
Sunday morning, "what would your father
say il he knew you were loitering here with
a fish-pole?"
"I dunno, but I guess he'd cuss me for
not hurryin' up an catchin' some fish before
the creek gets cleaned out by the Thomas
boys."
Gross Outrnces
Upon the stomach and bowels are perpetrated
by multitudes ot Injudicious people, who, upon
experiencing the annoyance of constipatfon tn
a slight degree. nflltrate their bowels with
drenching evacunts, which enfeeble the Intes
tinal membrane to a serious extent sometimes,
even, superinducing dysentery or piles. Bos
tetter's Stomach Bitters is the trne succeda
neum for theso nostrums, since It is at once In
vigorating, gentle and effectual. It also ban
ishes dyspepsia, malarial complaints, rbeuma
Usa and kfdney.trouuies. j: ,,
HTTSBTJRG' DISPATCH,
CA'LINY'S MOUNTAINS.
'Odd Experiences of Our Bold Lady
Traveler and Her Horse.
NAMES OP THINGS AND CHILDREN.
The Half-Civilized People Not Up in the
Science of Living.
BEIDESx THIRTEEN TEARS OP AGE
fCOBBXSrOHBISCX OF THX DISPATCH. 1
Bull Mountain,
IN, 7
, N. C,
er2S.
BUNCOMBE UOUNTT, N
September ;
N my way to this
place I crossed the
Toe river several
times, and this ex
cited in me a great
curiosity to know
; bow the river came
! oy its name, une
young man told m6
glibly enough that
the name came from
the fields of tow
along its banks. A
distinguished person
I afterward met
laughed at this, and
declared the name
was merely an abridgment of the original
Indian name, Estatoe.
All the names are odd around here, and
neighborhoods are usually distinguished by
the name of the creek upon which they are
situated, and, apropos of this fact, I heard a
fanny dialogue the other day. There is a
Hominy creek ont west or here, and one
gaunt, lack-luster mountaineer said to an
other in a verv friendly tone: "Wasn't you
raised on Hominy?" "Nawl" said the
other, straightening up wrathfully, ' I's
raised on jes' ez good vittles ez yen wuzl
A DISAPPOINTING HOME.
Phebe and I stopped for our dinner at a
house which, in any of the Northern States.
or in any more enlightened part of the coun
try, one would have expected to contain
plenty of the comforts of life, if not luxuri
ous refinements a good-sized frame house,
surrounded by a large and quite prosperous
looking farm. .But it is not means alone
(not, indeed, means so much) these people
lack, as the science of living, and when they
become able to buv or build a good comfort
able bouse they live in it, not like owners
and proprietors, who know and value the
comforts and conveniences they have pro
vided themselves with, and use them accord
ingly, but like robbers base usurpers who,
having stolen or wrongfully seized a fine
thing, know not how to enjoy it, but use it
ignorantly and disrespectfully and have
small gain of their theft
The big rooms were bare and uninviting;
three frowsy beds stood in the room where I
ate my dinner; drying apples were spread
out over the porch floors and most of the
rooms; there was not such a thing as a com
fortable chair or a book in sight in the
house; the windows were grimy, and every
thing about the place dingy and unappetiz
ing to the last degree. The woman who
waited upon me was a gentle, patient faded
-Vr-ZZfiiUlNA.
Hendricks, Cleveland and Thurman.
creature of about 19, who bad been married
at 13, and had three 'very pretty and phe
nomenally dirty children.
MORE ABOUT NAMES.
These, according to a very prevalent taste
hereabouts for the bizarre and striking iu
Christian names, she called respectively,
Belva Lockwood, Delta Lennie and Nigjry
Aldecky. Belva (or Belvy) Lockwood,
she believed they had, some or them about
the place, found in a book she couldn't
read herself. Nigary came out of some
book, too it was "the name of some big
falls of water." they said; and a youug man
travelin' throngh had named Deity. When
I went to leave, the kind soul thought 20
cents ample remuneration for my dinner
and Phebe's, and said.she didn't feel right
to charge a "lone woman" anything.
My head ached iu a threatening sort of
way alter dinner, and leaving Burnsville to
my right I pushed on, intending to reach,
if possible, the houseot the Mouut Mitchell
guide by evening. As I left the more open
country and followed up toward the "head
o' the waters," into the very heart of the
mountains, the way became more rugged,
and anything like settlements smaller, fewer
and further apart
MUST HAVE TOBACCO.
Each miserable little cabin had, in addi
tion to the small field of corn, some sweet
potatoes and maybe a (ew iruit trees, its
patch of tobacco, one of the prime necessi
ties among these people here, who all c hew
it, down to the little girls and boys of 6 and
7. The money spent umonir them for snuff
and tobacco, or the time and labor expended
in raising and preparing the homemade
article would put them a long way on the
road to comparative comfort
The North Carolina mountaineers were
quite unanimously Union in their sympa
thies and are now generally good Bepnb
licans; but I rode past one household in my
afternoon's trip that was certainly a strik
ing exception to the general political com
plexion. Three picturesquely dirty little
tow-headed brats the two younger ones
wearing copperas colored cotton dresses, the
oldest, possibly six, simply and effectively
clad in a red woolen undershirt that just
escaped the ground, tied at the neck with a
leather string, and baying the sleeves grace
fully fastened up by the same means were
playing, with all the pretty affectionateness
ot tiger cubs or young hyenas, in front of
a more than usually wretched hut Sud
denly in the meelee, the youngest bit the
dust and bawled nut, "Maw, make Thur
man lemnie 'lone!"
"You Thurman! Stop pesterin' Cleve
land," responded a voice from the hnt
"I haint fetched' im," squeaked he of the
red shirt, "its Hendricks."
DOWN "WITH THE HEADACHE.
Aslrode.on my head grew worse and
worse. I missed the obscure and little
traveled road that leads to Big Tom Wil
son's the Mount Mitchell cnlde; there
wasn't a house anywhere that looked at all
promising for a night's comfortable lodg
ing to say nothing of any remedies or
nursing. Bnt finally, when the whole
world was reeling around me; and every
step Phebe took rent the sky .with jagged
lightnings, and sent boits of agony tearing
throngh my brain, I stopped at a honse and
called. A woman came out, and as in a
dream I remember her helping me down
and into the house. I got to bed, and
finally, after many hours, to sleep, and
slept off my headache. About 10 o'clock, I
suppose, I suddenly started awake. There
was a spot of 'dim, smoky light in the gloom,
and within this circle a wizened, drawn face
trembled, nodded, bobbed up and down
with its dark eyes fixed earnestly and in
quiringly upon me.
At this startling vision of nightmare'I
lay blinking for some moments, when the
voice of the woman who had helped me in
spoke: "How d've'feel now?"
"Better," said I, dazedly.
"I jest come in t' see if ye'd like some
thin' t' eat 'fore we all went to bed."
I said I didn't want anything, and as my.
llf f Ml NU..V
r i . vtA r i
whi I l Mfi iu-r-j
if
4hr
SUNDAY," SEPTEMBER
eyes became accustomed to the light I law
it was the same woman of the afternoon,
only in my distracting pain I hadn't noticed
that she bad a shaking palsy. She recalled
most vividly old Angela in "The Eye of St
Agnes," of Keats, and looked very much
"A poor affrighted, trembling, churchyard
thing" in the uncertain light of the smok
ing, chimneyless little brass lamp she car
ried. Well, I wasquite. recovered in the morn
ing, but it rained, in the style and manner
generally known as "cats and dogs," all
day long, and I was a prisoner. The floor
of the room in which I slept that part of it
not occupied by three beds fwas covered
with drying apples, spread out ou sheets,
counterpanes and old dress skirts. Here, of
course, I was expected to comb my hair and
make my entire toilet, and here I made it,
thinking that if they could stand it, I who
never eat dried apples ought to be able to.
A TOUNO WIPE AT PLAT.
I heard loud romping and scuffling going
on several times, and much squealing and
giggling; and ns I went out to break last, I
saw a boy of 16, and an extremely hand
some girl ot apparently 15, with black eyes
and a mop of curling black hair, run out on
the porch.
"Zonyl You Arizony!
"Sam! You Sam," called my "kindly
crone," and added apologetically to me:
"Them chil'n's bad as two pet b'ars when
ever they git together. Zony's been married
a year or two an they don't git to see each
otheroften." I learned later that this term
"pet b'ars" meant something in this family.
There had hardly ever been a time when
A Wizen Face by Canale Light.
they were without one or two inthe house,
the father and older sons all being famous
and inveterate hunters. There we-e shot
guns all about the house, several hanging
upon the loom Where a piece ot butternut
colored jeans was in process of construction.
WOMEN DO THE WORK.
The women of the family seemed to do
pretty much all the work, Sanimie even re
fusing nonchalantly to get the cows for his
favorite, Arizony, and sauntering off with
his gun.
"G'way Irom here, you ol rabbit huntin'
thing," I heard her say to him, as she re
turned with two big buckets of milk and he
came dodging about her with a couple of
rabbits.
At last I started out with Sammy as escort
and arrived at the place after climbing over
the worst trail I ever saw. But Phebe ar
rived fresh and frisky. She tackled every
hardship, every obstacle, with the same fine
dauntless air and carried me along where
Sammie's heavier horse struggled and
groaned. And she's such a dainty creature,
so marvelously light and sure of foot and so
iron to endure. When we came to a hor
ribly steep place a regular jump-off she
would extend a tentative forefoot over the
edge, then, after a moment's pause, drop it
lightly down, then the other, drawing her
benth'ind lees far under her, thus carrying
me on a nearly level saddle down the worst
and steepest places.
Alice MacGowan.
VOMITniQ IN COKSUMPTIOir.
A Way to Cure tlio Tronble Tbnt Draffs
Down the Vitality.
New York Herald.
It is well known how obstinate vomiting
sometime is in consumptive persons and how
difficult it is to stop it; and a consumptive
person who vomits can no longer keep up
strength, aud loses from that very fact the
greater part of his ability to struggle against
the action of the bacilli.
For the treatment of this vomiting Mr.
Tison recommends pills containing one cen
tigramme of the hydrochlorate of cocaine,
and one centigramme of extract of opium.
The pills should be given ten minutes before
food is taken, and five or six pills can be
taken in the 24 hours. This treatment also
succeeds in other chronic diseases that are
accompanied by vomiting.
This is a very simple treatment and one
that can be easily tried, but I should not
like to vouch for the fact that it will succeed
every time, as the frequent failures of the
nume'rous drugs that are recommended for
the same purpose have made me extremely
skeptical.
The Aye Have It.
Detroit Free Press.
Moved and supported, that the first news
paper in America which makes the first fall
reference to "golden-hued autumn, "
"soughing winds of fall," or "the embers of
the dying year," be fined the cost of two
old-fashioned glue-and-molasses rollers for a
Washington hand-press.
AT THE OPERA.
rWRITTEN TOR Till DISPATCH.!
"The lights flashed and the music rang.
And the stjge was all aglow;
But the real heart of the woman there
Nobody cared to know.".
A happy maid with dusky, drooping head;
The rings of chestnut hair close 'gainst it laid;
Above a creamy wrap whose lining red
Caresses round gloved arms but half dis
played. Her Spanish fan. all black, of matchless lace.
Now cools, now coyly hides a glowing cheek,
Where smile to Brighter smile elves ready
place.
As youth's swift thought and swifter impulse
speak.
Ah, sunny child, whose blushes come
aud go,
Why does my heart your heart so long
to know?
Out o'er the court where mimic moonlight
falls.
From Minister casement leans fair "Elsa"
there
Her witching plaint Is breathed. Above the
stalls
Throbs each fond note upon the perfumed
To listening maid, what Is this soft delieht,
Stirring the chaste pulsations of her heart?
She knows not why this love song in the night
Seems to her life some newly wondrous part.
Oh, mimic Elsa, loved and passing
falrl
Oh, dark-haired maid, who listers
breathless therel
There's one. who waching her has waited long.
To see her child heart wake to woman's
crown;
He blesses with brave thenks the prlma's song
As shyly two soft eyes droop slowly down.
And when the Swan Knight gathers to bis
heart
The sunny head of his Brabantlan bride
The lover watches, not the singer's part.
But the far sweeter woman at his side.
Oh, mimic knight! Oh. maid with
golden hair! ,
Ob, you who woo the dark-eyed curl,
beware!
The music swings and swirls, the lights burn
low;
The music gasps and dies, tbo lights flash
- high. ,
The vast throng through the spacious foyer go.
Wrapped close, as carand carriage clatter hy.
A dreamy light subdues the soft brown eyes.
Her stalwart lover's heart exultant stirs;
She speaks his eager soul in auibustt lies
"IX bleaehed, my hair would be the shade of
hers
And, Tom.'all sentiment was quite in
vain
With Lohecgrin'slheel catching In bis
train!" V
J" i-COEA-BTOABS WHEELSB.
28, 1890,
MASCULINE FEMALES.
Tbe Fellow Who Gels Tied Up to
One for Life is lo be Pitied.
MEN ADMIRE WOMANLT WOMEN.
As Fast Reforms Were Attended by Ex
tremes bo 13 it Just Now.
A HAPPI MEDB TBE TRUE P0SIT10S
rWBITTEN FOB TBI DIari.TCB.1
A rapidly advancing age is liable to pro
duce incongruities. When the season is
moist aud warm rank weeds grow easily, and
it is extremely difficult for the farmer to
keep them down. Every relorm in the
world's history, has been productive of ab
normally developed aud excessively pro
gressive ideas, many of which happily reach
no fruition. The modern cry of woman's
rights and feminine equality has given us
the masculine woman, a creature feared by
many and loved by few. Between tbe in
sipid nonentity.whose ignorance is her-chief
attraction, and the know-all woman, who
parts her hair like a man and strides along
the street with Amazonian gusto, there is a
very wide gulf. In the center of the chasm
is a broad and beautiful platform, all decked
with flowers and beauty, upon which I think
woman ought to walk.
A simpering idiot, like Mrs. Henry
Wood's Isabel, who didn't know whether or
not to order a whole cow from the butcher.s
at one time, is an object of pity, if not of
scorn. The woman who presumes upon her
too much boasted "intuition," (a theory
which, like manyothers, is at times mythic
al) is just as obnoxious. To define wo
man's true position is no easy matter, be
cause Associations and circumstances have
so much to do with it. Woman is a pecu
liar, and sometimes a very illogical and in
consistent piece of humanity. I know I
am treading on very dangerous ground. I
will be careful.
Fluttered Into Insanity.
The strong-minded, masculine woman I
have in view is to be found in many places.
If it happens to be in the church, while it
may not be the pastor's duty to pray that
the Lord will take her out, such an event
could hardly be looked upon in the light of
a serious calamity. It is not my misfortune
at this time to be thus afflicted, but I have
known cases of this kind, and can to some
extent sympathize with those who have this
to endure. The masculine woman presumes
upon her "intuition," and without logic or
thought decides all questions irrespective ot
other people's experience. A great deal of
this nonsense is tbe result of what we men
call "gallantry." The average male speak
er, seeking to gain the favor of the opposite
sex by "flattery, makes extravagant state
ments with regard to her "perceptive facul
ties," until she thinks it is really so, and
acts accordingly.
I would accord to woman just as high a
sphere in the intellectual world as it is pos
sible for her to fill. Hot for a moment
should sex stand in the way of mental supe
riority having its meed of" honor. On the
other hand, it is only equitable that sex
should not be allowed to claim superiority
because of the existence of some cheap, so
called axiom about "intuition." Granted
that woman has fiue intuition, does it not,
as a matter of course, depreciate with every
stride she takes toward masculinity? If
lemininity is the source of this mysterious
flow ot perceptibility, surely it loses its
power in proDortion as she becomes manly.
Tbrre Kinds ofEsotisti.
An anonymous writer says: "There are
three sorts of egotists. Those who live them
selves and let others live; those who live
themselves and don't let others live, and
those who neither live themselves nor let
others live." Save me from the two latter.
An egotistical man is a sad sight, but a
woman who'can thus be justly catalogued is
almost past redemption. Argument is to her
like water on a duck's back. Logic is an
absurdity. You cannot convince her. She
has thought it all out, has in fact done all
the thinking, and it is very little use for
anybody else to trouble himself. She is one
of those of whom it may justly be said:
When she will, she will, you may depend on't,
And when she won't, she won't, and there's an
end on't.
Happily this kind of a woman is a com
patative rarity, but our boasted advance
ment may produce her with more luxuriance
than is desirable.
Time was when the American sneietv
woman kept herself comparatively secluded.
The sun was not allowed to shine upon her.
Her sole aim in life seemed to be to preserve
a complexion of face delicate in tint and
contour, and this she did by taxing the
system in all other respects. This was
wrong, morally and physically. Of course
it was followed by a re'volution, and as all
revolutions areapt by their very impetuosity
to gain too much momentum, of course this
did. The rosy-cheeked English woman,
with her pink and white face, was pointed
to as an example of what American women
should be. And then our American women
accepted the delusion that all tbat was nec
essary to gain this English comolexion was
to waltc so many miles a day, and spend a
goodly portion of their time in the open air.
In moderation this is all very proper, but
our climate is not suitable for such delicate
tints, if too much of it be used. It is too
dry, too full ot something which irritates
the nerves and makes them da donble duty.
It is easier to walk ten miles in England
than five miles in the United States. Car
ried to extremes, physical exercise has a
tendency to uuhinge a frail woman and
masculinize a strong one, and we men don't
want it, so therel
A Chance for Reform.
' With the last two words a woman, tbat is
some women, would consider the question
settled, and that further argument was un
necessary, but I' have not done with the
woman I am after yet.'. What with tbe
craze for semi.nndity at the seaside, and
nudity without much "semi" in the ball
room, coupled with tbe fact tbat soma of the
fair sex are anticipating riding horseback
a la masculine, is it not about time a halt
was called?
The vigorous and heroic words on this
subject Irom a noble woman's pen, in a
popular magazine, are very timely. No
man in the lower or middle walks of life
would care to see his mother, wife or sister
in such positions as those mentioned. Why
should aristocratic people presume to do
tliings.that are immodest, vulgar and sug
gestive? I don't believe in mock modesty
or puritanio prudery, but anything which
unsexes a woman should be condemned, and
is discountenanced mentally, if not morally,
by all thinking men. Man's better nature
revolts against such exhibitions as have pre
vailed along the seashore tbe past summer.
His baser nature may possibly have appre
ciated them, but it seems to me that lair
woman's mission should be to stimulate the
better and seek to minimize tbe baser.
A Sad Speciacl.
The Lord oity the man with a masculine
wife. I once married a couple in Kew
Jersey, and if ever I sympathized with any
poor fellow it was this one. Tbe woman
made the arrangements, and the poor idiot
came up to the scratch like a game chicken
with a broken wing aud an eye missing.
When I-asked him if he wanted to be mar
ried he said, "Yees, I reckon so," and then
he edged himself forward and plighted his
vows in the humblest possible manner. He
promised to "love, cherish and support her
in sickntss and health." She promised to
"honor, love, etc." The fee wjs so small
that I forget whether he or she paid it, but
I think it was she. X remember it was
accompanied by a promise that it would be
considerably enlarged when they got "set
tled." Like the restless, tossing ocean,
they have not settled yet, and it is many
?'ears ago cow. In all probability the poor
ellow it dead and buried long before this.
As be left my residence, led away by the
giant bride, in all the proud dignity of her
masculine womanhood, my warmest solici
tude went out to the poor victim. I almost
hope he
library
totterintr
know of no fate more terrible than falling
into the outstretched arms of a manly
woman, and if I had an euemy. and was by
nature revengeful, this would be the Cite I
should desire for him.
A Hrpnotlzrd Nonentity.
What a poor, shriveled-ap mortal tbe
henpecked husband isl He has no soul.
He is a hypnotized nonentity. His wife
may De a very small woman in stature, and
he may be a very giant, but it makes no
difference. She will either have her way or
tbe hysterics, or possibly both. If a woman
of this kind gets the upper hand the hus
band might almost as well commit suicide,
if it were not contrary to the laws of both
God and man. What a blessing that this
species js a rara avis, and tbat so many of
our homes are charmed and warmed by the
sweet angels who administer to our necessi
ties with the hand o'lnve.
Young woman, if you want a husband cul'
tivate feminine graces. Athletic sports in
moderation are all well enough, but there is
a point where man despises tbe prowess of
woman in a physical sense. Young men
may and do like the companionship of a
young Amazonian lor a summer day's jaunt,
but as a companion for life, as a home bird,
one to cherish and care for, one to grace the
home and .make it a paradise on earth, he
wants a woman. He doesn't care very
much about her being a lady, that is to say,
a lady in our modern idea of what consti
tutes one. He does nut want a doll to dress
and fool with, but a woman with a woman's
heart and a woman's instinct. Many a
brave and manly girl wonders why the boys
pass her for more retiring and gentle maid
ens. She need not wonder long it she will
only remember that of all things in this life
the average man dislikes a masculine wo
man. The Countby Paeson.
A VEEY SEH8IBLE EACE.
f Colored ffopln K 11 Whit and Blncki,
bill N.ffr Kill TIienuelTes.
St. Louis Globe-Democrat.
There are plenty of cases on record in the
South in which colored people have been
killed by members of their own race, bnt a
negro seldom, if ever, commits suicide. I
know of no nationality or race in which
self-murder is so rare, and tbe reason is, of
course, the extreme philosophy which char
terizes the colored man or woman's every
thought
There may be a good deal of grumbling,
but so long as the next meal ahead is pro
vided for, there is nothing so much as solic
itude, let alone anxiety, and just where de
spair can be found in a colored man is hard
to say. The negro may labor under a good
many disadvantages, but he certainly is
ahead of his white brother in the matter of
enjoying himself heartily on the least pos
sible provocation, and of never thinking of
such a thing as meeting trouble half-way.
GENIUS EE0M TEE LOWLY.
Men Who.e Kimii Are Fid liar Thronga
ontiho World Had Bamble Parents.
Br. hoalt Fost-Ulspatch.)
Christopher Columbus was the son of a
weaver, and also a weaver himself. Clande
Lorraine was bred a pastry cook. Cervantes
was a common soldier. Homer was the son
of a farmer. Demosthenes was the son of a
cutler. Oliver Cromwell was tbe son of a
brewer. Howard was an apprentice to a gro
cer. Franklin was a journeyman printer aud
son of a tallow chandler and soap boiler.
Daniel Defoe was a hosier and son of a
butcher. Cardinal Wolsey was the son of a
butcher. Lncian was the son of a maker of
statuary. Yirgil was the son of a porter.
Horace was the son of a shopkeeper.
Shakespeare was the son of a wool stapler.
Milton was the son of a money scrivener.
Popp was the son ot a merchant. Kobert
Burns was the son of a plowman in Ayr
shire. THE LATEST LIFE BOAT.
It Comi.tn of Two ;liell, tbe Inner One
Fixed to May Rlslit Side Vp.
Illustrated News or the World.
Boots to put on the feet for the purpose of
walking upon the water, water tricycles and
bicycles are already known. A surprising
sort of life boat is made of two cylindrical
shells, one inside of the other, and, no mat
ter how often the outer shell may roll over,
the passengers in tbe inner shell, which is
bung like a pendulnm, must always remain
right side up. Tbe great trouble about life
boats at sea js that they are apt to turn
bottom upward or get swamped in being
launched; but this trouble is obviated by a
craft of the sort that has two air-tight
cylinders for sides, and is right side np no
matter how it falls into the water, which
automatically sets the boat into shape to
receive its passengers and crew, the oars
being ready fastened in their places for
rowing.
THE UHEOBTTJNATE MARY.
Tomb of the Secretary ortbe Queen of Scot
and Ite storr.
Tbe romantic history of tbe unfortunate,
but certainly not innocent, Queen of Scot
land, who suffered 19 years' captivity as an
enemy of onr jealous "Queen Elizabeth,
and was finally beheaded at Fotherin
gay Castle in 1587, has long been
M,,,, f$
Tomb of Queen ilary't Secretary.
a theme of compassionate declamation and
ot controversial discussion, One of her con
fidential servants, who escaped to Flanders,
and who probably knew niauy of her secrets,
outlived his royal mistress many years, and
his last resting-place has now been found.
Mr. Villiers Sankev writes from La
Hulpe, in Belgium: "Through M. Dricot,
a master builder, I have made a very iuter
ing discovery in the churchyard here
namely, the tomb of Charles B.iillie, secre
tary to Mary Quten of Scots. Over it is a
stone cross, betwet two feet and three feet
high, bearing the following incription
'Cy-gistr. Char. Baillly, secretaire de la
Beine d'Ecosse, decapitee en Augleterre
pourlafoy Catboliqne, qui trepassale27
Xbre,1624,aiede8l"
ifj Etta
WMfk p-tco MmI.
wrW I 91" iwwk-' a vi' i If Iff
vj - x,0
V
MPSIC IN OUR, ALLEY.
The Two Annies Forever on the Air
in the Gladsome Betreat.
A BAND THAT IS PRIVILEGED.
Notes That Called Up Visions of Beautj
Only to Disappoint.
THE PEAISES OP SIE PAT H'ffALLT
IWKITTra TOB THX DISrATCB.1
No. 4.
"She-e-'s my swee-ee-tbeart.
Tin her-r-r beaut
Shee-e-e'a my A-a-annle,
Pm her-r-r Jo-o-ot
Na-ow we'll ma-j-arry
Nayver-r-r tOK)o par-rt;
Li-ittle Annie Rooney she is
My swee-ee-thearm."
The above is an attempt to render on pa
per the singing of a popular refrain by Misa
Maude Muldoon, of Our Allev. Miss Mnl
doon is one of the Alley musicians. She
has a rival in the Cast Iron and Kaiser Wil
helm Brass Band, whose headquarters are a
few doors below, aud another in tbe solitary
concertina player, who resides tin the first
floor front in the house across the way.
Bnt Miss Muldoon, when she gets a fair
chance, can beat either or both of her com
petitors. Give her ten minutes' practice on
her mother's first-floor lady .boarder's un
tuned pianb, and she will silence any Teu
tonic trombone that ever roared. The first
floor boarder, however, does not wish Miss
Maude to use her "darling instrument" for
practicing purposes; and it is only when
tbe owner of tbe piano is out that the fair
girl dares to tinkle its keys. The first-floor
boarder's husband was a music teacher, and
he bequeathed his sole (undisputed) piece
of property the piano to his beloved wife.
She cannot play a note, bnt she keeps the
instrument, partly in remembrance of Sig
nor Muldnnio, and mainly because she can
never find any dealer enterprising enough
to purchase it.
she has two tunes.
She objects to Maude's style of perform
ance, but when her back is tnrned Maude
has a splendid tune, and the aged piano a
very bad quarter ot an hour. Maude in
dulges in two tunes, and only two. They
are "Annie Laurie" and "Annie Booney.
She tries both with perfect impartiality,
and has often been heard to sing the former
to mnsic ot the latter, or to warble the latter
to the former's delightlnl strains. The
philosopher crowlingly explains that the
reason for this extraordinary exchange is tbe
fearof Miss Muldoon that if she lays all her
musical powers at the feet of one Annie, the
other Annie will grow jealous after the old
time fashion of femininity.
So Anuie of Maxwellton and Annie of
the Bowery cannot complain of nnfair
treatment at tbe hands or lips of Miss
Maude Muldoon. Maude's rendition of
"Annie Laurie" without a piano, for she
sometimes spares us the additional infliction
of that wretched instrument's "rum-tnm-tum"-ing,
is superb. When she is washing
in the back kitchen, it runs like this:
"Likedooon the gowinglyin"' splash
thump splash "is the fall of her fairy
feet" (bump, bump, as the fairy's ele
phantine pedal extremities kiss the floor;
"and like winds in summer si-highing, her
voice is low and swe-eet" (which, it must
be observed, the singer's is not); "her
voice is low and swe-eet, and she's all the
wor-reld to nie-e" (splash, splash, bang)
"and for little Annie Booney wad I lay me
down an' dee will you lave go o' that
basket,tye little divil, or I'll warm your ear
for yez." This to her small brother,
Michael.
A MAZE OJ- aiEtODT.
The Cast Iron and Kaiser Wilhelm band
of our alley is a great institution. To hear
it in the calm summer time, when darkness
has overshadowed the land, or whenMhe
fragrant odors of the alley's fauna and flora
permeate the atmosphere, to hear it at such
a period is to remain awake all night. It is
impossible to sleep and give all one's soul
to raptnre when the band plays "Die Wacht
Am Khein" or "Vaterland."
"Music hath charms to soothe," as we all
know, and also "to soften;" butalack, it en
tirely fails to soothe the sleepless poet, or to
soften the strident blasphemy of our friend,
the philosopher. The alley has compl uned
over and over again of the C. L and K. W.
Band; hnt tbe landlord gets good pay from
tbe bandsmen, so he refuses all petitions for
their eviction. "I like to patronize the arts
an' sciences," he says, "so I'll let all them
play all the music they want. See?"
As for the concertina player, he is harm
less. No one objects to him but the philoso
pher, who objects to everything on princi
ple. When he first came we all felt that he
must have a terrible load upon his heart.
The airs he played were filled with such de
spairing melancholy, such passionate yearn
ing, that every maiden in the alley knew at
once that he mnst beat least a broken
hearted corsair or expatriated Cbilde Harold
iu diguUe. Even the philosopher was at
first touched. "Poor thing," he growled,
"he plays as ii he hadn't had a square meal
for months."
NOT EXACTLT CHILDE HAEOLD.
But one day we saw the concertina player.
He was four feet one inch in height and
very nearly three feet in width. Under his
arm he carried a big parcel of steak and
onions for cooking purposes, and behind
trotted his fat and florid spouse, wheeling a
case of lager beer in a baby's perambulator.
AH the alley felt grieved, and even in
sulted, at tne SDectacle.
O:' course. there are many other musicians
in the alley. Little Michael Muldoon plays
thejews-harp melody is deeply imbedded
in tbe souls of the Muldoon family. Then
the colored settlement are great banjo play
ers, aud the Italian colony possesses a barrel
organ. There was a monkey attached to the
organ some years ago, but he died of old
age, and now the organ can appearin pnblio
no more. Mr. Timothy J. Flannigan has a
"real Cremona" fiddle, and knows how to
play the wailing melodies of "Ould Ireland"
thereon, while the flute, which the young
German bar-tender ptays at No. 9, is a
charming addition to the concert. Then
there is a nation of sparrows in the alley,!
which lends its chirping to swell the tide oi
melody.
Sl'NAtLT IN OUE ALLEY.
The following lyric was composed by one
of tbe fairest maidens in the Alley. It com
memorates tbe virtues of the Alley Apollo,
a certain Mr. Patrick McNally, for whose
six feet of stalwart manhood both Philoso
pher aud Bhymster have tbe greatest possi
ble admiration and respect. Headers of
Henry Carey's delightful old song will at
once perceive the vast superiority of the
new version, which is given below;
I.
Of all the boys in love with me
There's none like Pat McNally;
He is tbe best ot all my beux.
And be boards down in our alley.
There's not a hizb-toned dnde in town
Can match with Pat McNally;
He Is tbe best ol all my beaux.
And he boards down in our allevf
11.
His father works in ilooney's mm
And sometimes gets a jag ou;
While Pat himself for Bung & Co
Conducts a brew'ry wagon. -The
politicians in tbe ward
liave hopes of Pat McNally;
Oh! he's tbe best ot all my beaux.
And he boards down tn our allay!
III.
Of all tbe days within the week
We've only got one gay day:
And that's tbe day comes last of all.
The "lelieri" call It pay-dav!
For on that dar I see tbe play.
Along with Pat McNally:
He Is the best of all my beaux,
And ho boards down in our alley!
ir.
We like to sit, and peanuts eat
While looking at tbe ballet:
There's not a "feller0 in the gods
Can "cat-call" line McNally.
Tbe neighbors jeer, bnt never fear
I'll marry Pat McNally.
And we willyent a second floor
And boartT down la our alley!
Philosopher ass Bhtxstzs.
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