18 THE PITTSBURG- DISPATCH, SUNDAY, DECEMBER 6, 1891 ing there with the yellow bull pup cuddled up under one forearm and the thin blue reek of her cigarette ascending from her lips. C1IAPIEK II. How deeply arc our destinies influenced by the ino-t trifling causes' Had the un known builders ho erected and owned these new villas contented himself by simply building each within its own grounds, it is probable that these three small groups of people would have remained hardly con scious of each other's existence, and that there would have been no opportunity for that action and reaction which i here jet forth. But there was a common link to bind them together. To sinsle himself out from all other Norwood builders the land lord had devised and laid but a common lawn-tennis ground, which stretched behind the houcs with taut-stretched net. green close-cropped sward and widespread white washed l'nes. Hither in searchof that hard xercise which is as necessary as air or food to the English temperament, came young Hay Denver when released from the toil of thecity: hither, too, came Dr. Walker and his two fair daughters. Clara and Ida: and hither, also, champions of the lawn, came! tnc Ehort-sKincd muscular widow anu ner nthletie nephew. Ere the summer was gone they knew each other in this quiet nook, as thev might not have done after years of a stifler and more formal acquaintance. Clara was tall and thin and supple, with a graceful, womanly firure. Hers was a Ktromr, quiet soul." Ida Walker was a handV breadth smaller than Clara, but was a little fuller in the face and plumper in the figure. She was modern to the soles of her dainty little-heeled shoes, trankly ford of dress and of pleasure, devoted to tennis and to comic opera, delichted with a dance, which came in her way only too seldom, longing cer for ome new eicitement, and yet behind all this lighter side of her char acter a thoroughly good, healthv-rainde'd English girl, the life and soul of the ho use, and the idol of her sister and her father As to the Denvers it was their Jlr. Harold who kept them in the neiehborhood of Lon don, for the Admiral was as fond of ships .nd of salt water as ever, and was as happy in the sheets of a 2-ton yacht as on the bridge of his 16-knot. Harold was four-and-menty now. Three years before he had been "in hand by an acquaintance of his father's, the head of a considerable firm of stock-brokers, and fairly launched upon 'change. To act as middleman between the pursuer of wealth and the wealth he pursued, or to stand as a human barometer, registering the rise and fall of the great mammon pressure in the market was not the work for which Providence had placed those broad shoul- I PKESEXTIT A ntESn drs and stronjr limbs upon his well-knit irame. His dark, open face, too, with his straicht Grecian nose, well-opened brown e es. and round, black-curled head, were all those of a men who was fashioned for actn e physical w ork. "Do you know. "Willie." said Mrs. Hay Den er one cveninc as she stood behind her husband's chair, filth her hand upon his shoulder, "1 think sometimes that Harold is not quite happy." "He looks happy, the young rascal," an swered the Admiral, pointing with his cigar. It was after dinner, and through the open French window of the dining room a clear view was to be had of the tennis court and the players. A set had just been finished, ana vounr Cha'Ies "Westmacott was hitting up the bills as high as he could send them in tin- middle of the ground. Dr. Walker and Mrs. Westmacojt were pacing up and down the lawn, tl.e lady waving her rac quet at. she emphasi7ed her remarks, and the doctor listening with slanting head and little nods of agreement. Againsl, the rails at the near end Harold was leaning in hi3 flannels talking to the two sisters. "Yes, he looks happy, mother." he re peated with a chuckle. "In love, perhaps, the young dog. He seems to have found eni'g moorincs now at any rate." ! think that it i very likely that you are right, Willy," answered the mother se riously. "But jitli which of them?" "I think that we can see which it is now," remarked fhe observant mother. Charles Westmacott had ceased to knock the tennis balls about, and was chatting with Clara Walter, while Ida and Harold Denver were still talking by the railing with little outbursts of laughter. Presently a fresh tct was formed, and Dr. Walker, the odd man out, came through the wicket gate and strolled up the earden walk. Good cecing, Mrs. Hay Denver," said he raiintr his broad straw hat. "May I come in?" "Good evening, Doctor! Pray do!" "Try one of these." said the Admiral, holding out his cigar case. "They, are not bad. I got them on the Mosquito coast. I wa thinking of signaline to you, but you teemed to very happy out there." 'Mrs. Westmacott is a very clever woman," said the doctor, lighting the cigar. "A very cranky one." "A verv sensible one in some things," re marked Mrs. Hay Denver. "Look at that now!" cried the Admiral with a lunge of his forefinger at the doctor. "You mark my words, Walker, if we don't look out that woman will raise a mutiny with her preaching. nere' my wife dis affected already, and your girls wilt be no better. We must combine, man, or there's an end of all discipline." "Xo doubt he is a little excessive in her views," said the doctor, "but, in the main, 1 think si -4 she does. You should come to her next inecfine. lam to take the chair. I have iust promisiil that 1 will do so. Bnt it has turned chilly, and it is time that the girlr wre indoor. Good night! I shail look out for y'U after breakfast for our con stitutional, Admiral." The old sailor looked after his friend with a twinkle in his eye. "How old is he" mother?" "About SO, I think." "And Mrs. Westmacott?" "J heard that she was 43." The Admiral rubbed his hands and shook with amusement. "We'll fii:d one of thee lavs that thre and two make one." said he. "I'll bet you a newbonnet on it, mother." It was on this tame summer evenins in thr tcnnii ground, though the shadows had fallen now a.id tue game been abandoned, that Charles Westmacott said: "Tell me, Miss Wilker! Youinow how things should be. What would you say was a good prO iVsion for a voungman of 26, who has had no education worth speaking about and who is not cry quick by nature?" Tiic girl glanced up at him, amused and surprised. "Do you mean vourself.'" "Precisely. I Iiae no oneto advise me, I bcJieve that you could do it butter than anyone." "Ilia very flattering." She glanced up again at his earnest, questioning face, with itsSaion eyes and drooping flaxen mustache, in seme doubt as to whether he might be joking. On the contrary, all his attention seemed to be concentrated on her answer. "It depends bo much upon what you can do, you know. I do not know you suffi ciently to be able to say what natural gifts you have." "I have none. That is to say, none worth mentioning. I have no memory, and 1 am very slow." "But yon are verv strong." "Oh, if that goes'for anything, T can put up a hundred-pound bar till further orders; but what sort of a calling is that?" Some little joke about being called to the bar flickered up in Miss "Walker's mind.but her companion was in such obvious earnest that she stilled down her inclination to lauch. "I can do a mile on the cinder track in 4:50 and across country in 5:20, but how is that to help me? I might be a cricket.pro fesionaI. bat it is not a very dignified po-s-ition. .Not that I care a straw about dig nity, you know, but I should not like to hurt the old ladv's feelings." "Your aunt's?" "Ves, my aunt's. My parents were killed in the muiiny, you know, when I was a baby, and she looked after me ever since. She has been very good to me. I'm sorry to leave her." "I wish I conld help you," taid Clara. "But I really know very "little about such things. However, I could talk to my father, who knows a very great deal of the world. "I wish you would. I should be so glad if you would." 'Then I certainly will. And now I must say cood night, Mr. Westmacott, for papa will be wondering where I am." "Good night, 3Ii:s "Walker." He pulled off his flannel cap, and stalked away through the gathering darkness. Clara had imagined that they had been the last on the lawn, but, looking back from the steps which led up to the French windows, she saw two dark fignres moving across toward the house. As they came nearer she could distinguish that they were Harold Denver and her sister Idal The murmur of their voices rose up to her ears, una then the musical little child-like laugh which she knew so welL "I am so de lighted," she heard her sister bay. "So pleased and proud. I had no idea of it. Your words were such a surprise and a joy to me. Oh, I am so glad!" "Is that you, Ida?" "Oh, there is Clara. I must go In, Mr. Denver. Good night!" There were a few whispered words, a laugh from Ida, and a "good night Mis "Walker," out of the darkness. Clara took her sister's hand and they passed together through the long folding window. The doc- SET WAS FORMED. tor had gone into his study, and the dining room was empty. A ringle small red lamp upon the sideboard was reflected tenfold by the plate about it and the mahogany be neath it, though its single wick cast but a feeble lisrht into the large, dimly shadowed room. Ida danced off to the" big central lamp, but Clara put her hand upon her arm. "I rather like this quiet light," said she. "Why should we not have a chat!" She sat in the doctor's large plush chair, and her sister cuddled down upon the foot-stool at her feet, dancing up at her elder with a smile upon her lips and a mischievous gleam in her eyes. There was a shade ot anxiety in Clara's face, which cleared away as she gazed into her sister's frank blue eyes. "Have you anything to tell me, dear?" she asked." Ida gave a little pout and shrug to her shoulders. "You were quite late upon the lawn," said the inexorable Clara. "Yes, I was rather. So were yon. Have you anything to tell me?" Shebroke away into her merry musical laugh. "I was chatting with Mr. Westmacott." "And I was chatting with Mr. Denver. By the way. Clara, now tell me trulv what do you think of Mr. Denver? Do you like him? Honestly now!" "I like him very much, indeed. I think he is one ot the most gentlemanly, modest, manly young men that I have ever known. So now,d-ar. have you nothing to tell me'" Clara smoothed down her sister's golden hair with a motherly gesture, and stooped her face to catch the expected confidence. She could wish nothing better than that Ida should bi made the wife of Harold Denver, and from the words she had overheard as tbey left the lawn that evening she could not doubt that there was some understand ing between them. But there came no confession from Ida. Only the same mischievous smile and amused gleam in her deep blue eyes. "That gray foulard dress " she began. "Oh, you little tease ! Come now, I will ask you what von have jnst asked rae. Do yon "like Harold Denver?" "Oh, he's a darling !" "Ida!" "Well, vou asked rae. That's what I think of him. And now you dear old in quisitive, you will get nothing more out of ine, bo you must just wait and not be too curious. I'm going off to see what papa is doing." She sprang to her feet, threw her arms round her sister's neck, gave her a final squeeze, and was gone. A chorus from "Olivette," sung in her clear contralto, grew fainter and fainter until it ended in the slam of a distant doer. Bui Clara Walker still sat in the dim-lit room with her chin upon her hands and her dreamy eyes looking out into the gathering gloom. It was the duty of her. a maiden, to play the part of a mother to guide another in paths which her own steps had not yet trodden. Since her mother had died not a thought had been given to her self, all was for her father and her sister. In her own eves she was herself very plain, and she knew that her manner was often ungracious w lien she would most wish to be gracious. She saw her face as the glass re floated it, but she did not see the changing play of expression which gave it its charm the infinite pity, the sympathy, the sweet womanliness which drew toward her all who were in doubt and trouble, even as poor, slow-moving Charles Westmacott had been drawn to her that night. She was her self, she thought, outside the pale of love. But it was very different with Ida, merry, little, quirk-witted, bright-faced Ida. Slie was born for love. It was her inheritance. CHAPTEK III. . It was the habit of the doctor and the Ad miral to accompany each other upon a morning ramble between breakfast and lunch. The dwellers in those quiet tree lined roads were accustomed to see the two figures, the long, thin, austere seaman, and the short, bustlins, tweed-clad physician, pass und repass with such regularity that a stopped clock has been reset by them. The Admiral took two steps to his companion's three, but the younger man was the quicker, and both were equal to a good four and a half miles an hour. It was a lovely summer day which fol lowed the events which have been de scribed. As the friends walked, the Ad miral was in high spirits, for the morning post had brought good news to his sou. "It is wonderful, Walker," he was say ing, "positively wonderful the way that boy of mine has gone ahead during the last three years. We heard from Pearson to day. Pearson is the senior partner, you know, and my boy the junior Pearson and Denver the firm. Cunning old dog is Pear son, as cute and as greedy as a Rio shark. Yet he goes off for a fortnight's leave, and puts my boy in full charge, with all that immense business in his hands, and a free hand to do what he likes with it. How's that for confidence, and he only three years upon 'change? I have much "to be thank ful for." "And so have L The best two girls that ever stepped. But hullo, what is this com intr along?" "All drawing and the wind astern !" cried the Admiral. "Fourteen knots if it's one. Why, by George, it is that woman!" A rolling "cloud of yellow dust had streamed round the curve of the road, and from the heart of it had emerged a high tandem tricvele flying along at a break neck pace. In front sat Mrs. Westmacott clad in a heather tweed pen-jecket, a skirt which just passed her knee, and a pair of thick gaiters of the same materiak She had a great bundle of red papers under her arm, while Charles, who sat behind her clad in Xorfolk iacket and knickerbockers, bore a similar roll protrudincr from eitherpocket. Even as thev watched." the pair eased up, the lady sprang off, impaled one of her bills upon the garden railing of an empty house, and then jumping on to her seat again was about to hurry onward when her nephew drew her attention to the two gentlemen on the footpath. "Oh, now, really I didn't notice you," said she. takinga few turns of the treadle and steering the machine across to them. "Is it not a beautiful morning?" "Lovely," answered the doctor. "You seem to be very busy." "I am very busy.'V She pointed to the colored paper which still fluttered from the railing. "We have been pushing our pro paganda, you see. Charles and I have been at it since 7 o'clock. It is about our meet ing. I w ish it to be a great success. See!" She smoothed out one of the bills, and4the doctor read his own name in great black letters across the bottom. "We don't forget our chairman, you see. Everybody is coming. Those two dear lit tle maids opposite the Williomses held out for some time; but I have their promise now. Admiral, I am sure that vou wish us well." "Hum! I wish you no harm, ma'am." "You w"llcome on the platform?" "I'll be Xo, I don't think I can do that." "To our meeting, then?" i"Xo,ma'an; I don't go out after dinner." "Oh yes, you will come. I will call in if I mav, and chat it over with you when you comeliome. We have not breakfasted yet. Good-bye!" There was a whirl of wheels, and the yellow clouds rolled away deftvn the road again. By some leierdemain the Admiral fonnd "that he was clutching in his right hand one of the obnoxious bills. He crumpled it up and threw it into the road wav. The Admiral had hardlv got home, and hadjust rented himself in his drawing room. when the attack upon him was renewed. He heard a scrunching of gravel, and, looking over the top of his paper, saw Mrs. West macott coming up the garden walk. She was still dressed in the singular costume which offended the sailor's old-fashioned notions of propriety, but he could not deny, as he looked at her, that she was a very fine woman. "May I come in?" said she, framing her self in'the open window, with a background of greensward and blue sky. "I wish that you would give us yonr powerful support at our coming meeting for the improvement of the condition of woman." "Xo, ma'am; I can't do that," He Enrsed up his lips and shook his grizzled ead. "And why not?" Then for halt an hour she urged the cause of "woman's rights." The Admiral jumped out of his chair at length, with an evil word in his throat. "There, there, ma'am," he cried. "Drop it for a time. I have heard enough. I will think it over." "Certainly, AdmiraL We would not hurry you up in your decision. But we still hope to see you on our platform." She rose and moved about in her lounging mas culine fashion from one nicture to another, for the walls were thickly covered with reminiscences of the Admiral's voy ages. "Hullo!" said she. "Surely this ship would have furled all her lower canvas and reefed her topsails if she found her self on alee shore with the wind on her quarter." "Of course she would. The artist was never past Gravesend, I swear. It's the "Penelope,' as she was on the 14th of June, 18o7, in the throat of the Straits of Banca, with the island of Banca on the starboard bow and Sumatra on the port. He painted it from description, but of course, as you very sensibly say, all was snug below and she carried storm sails and double reefed topsails, for it was blowing a cyclone from the sou'east. I compliment you, ma'am I do, indeed!" "Oh, I have done a little sailoring my selfas much as a woman can aspire to. you know. This is the Bay of Funchak "What a lovely frigate!" "Lovely, yon sayl Ah, she was lovely! That is the 'Andromeda.' I was a mate aboard of her sub-Lieutenant they call it now, though I like the old name best." "What a lovely rake her masts have, and what a curve to her bows! She must have been a clipper. " The old sailor rubbed his hands and his eves glistened. His old ships bordered close upon his wife and son in his affection. 'I know Funchal," said the lady, care lessly. "A couple of years ago 1 had a seven-ton cutter-rigged yacht, the 'Ban shee,' 3nd we ran over to Madeira from Fal mouth." "You, ma'am, in a seven-tonner?" "With a couple of Cornish lads fora crew. Oh, it was glorious! A fortnight right out in the open, with no worries, no letters, no callers, no petty thoughts, nothing but the grand works of God, the tossing sea and the great silent sky. They talk of riding in deed I am fond of horses, too but what is there to compare with the swoop of a little craft as she pitches down the long steep side of a wave; and then the quiver and spring as she is tossed upward again? Oh, if our souls coald transmigrate I'd be a seamew above all birds that fly. But I keep yon, Admiral. Adieu!" The old sailor was too transported with svmpathy to say a word. He could only shake his broad muscular hand. She w as half way down the garden path before she heard him calling her, and saw his grizzled head and weather stained face looking out from behind the curtains. "You may put me down for the platform. " he cried. (2b be Continued Xcxt Sunday.) ' Copyright, 1S91, by the Authors' Alliance. AFBAID HE'D BE LOHESOME. The Boarding Honse Didn't Meet His Ideal as to Liveliness. Detroit Free Tress.: He was an old bachelor looking forboard. "Is it pretty lively here?" he asked, as the landlady was showing him about. "I should just Fay it was. Xowifyou take this room there's a maa and his wife on the right. They're always quarreling, and you can hear everv word that is said." "That must be interesting." "And on the left there's a young man that is learning to play the cornet. He practices half the time. And the family across the hali have a melodeon. I have a piano myself, and a girl upstairs is learning the violin. I think vou will find it lively here." But he said if there wasn't a zylophone and a calliope in the house he wouldn't take the room. He was afraid he would be lonesome. OUR NEWLAWMAKERS .Youngest, Oldest and Handsomest of the Fresh. Batch of Senators. TWO MEN WHO ARE FIGHTERS. Ferr Millionaires to Replace the Eich Old Felpws We Know So Well. TWO EI-MEMBERS OF THK CABINET rcoimM-ontwcx or Tmt DrsT-ATcn.i Washington', Dec. S. EW blood. New brains. New men. The Senate which meets to-morrow ! will be practically strange to the peo. pie. Half of its members have not been in office more than two years and there are 16 Sena tors who take their seats in the cham ber for the first time. The old men of the Millionaires' Club are passing away. There is not enough white hair left in Felton. the body to stuff a pincushion and most of the new Senators are under 60. Many of them are poor, many of them have strange histories and altogether they form a most interesting set of Congressional curiosities. Some of the brightest of the young men come from the West and two of these are so young that they are hardly out of their short clothes. Dubois, of Idaho, and Hans brough, of Dakota, are The Babies of the Senate. It is all Dubois can do to raise a mustache and Hansbrough does not look to be over 30. Still both of them have been in the House, and Hansbrough was editing a paper Palmer and Gordon Both Ex-Governori. at Devil's Lake when the State of North Dakota wai admitted, and he became its first Congressman. Both Dubois and Hans brough were born in Illinois. Hansbrough's parents were poor and he got his education in the printing office. He published a daily at San Jose and worked for a time on the San Francisei Chronicle. He is a straight, clean cut, rosy cheeked young min with a red mustache," which loots for all the world like that of Dan Lamont. He still own3 his paper at Devil's Lake, and varies his Congressional work by writing editorials for it Dubois is a younger man than Hans brough. His parents were well to do, and he went to school at Yale and was there noted as an athlete as well as a student. For four years he was the catcher of the baseball nine of his class. In Idaho he put his muscle into politics, and during his first Congressional campaign he spoke in every settlement in Idaho, traveling over its 85,000 square miles of mountainous terri tory on mules and in stage coaches, and The Infants Hansborough and Dubois. being at times nearly a month away from the railroad. He is a bachelor. Two More Ex-Representatives. Senators Blair, of New Hampshire, and Hearst, of California, are succeeded bytwo men who served together in the House of Ileprcsentatives. These are Dr. Jacob Gatlinger and Mr. Charles Felton. Gal linger is a bright-eyed, black mustached, semi-bald little man, "whose frame is packed full of nervous activity. A coidial hatred exists between himself and his colleague, Senator Chandler. He began life poor and has been a printer, an editor and a doctor, but is now well-to-do. Mr. Charles Felton also started life with nothing, and ho is now a rich man in that State of rich men, California. He owns the water works of one of the best suburban towns of San Francisco. The newspapers not long ago put him down as worth $15, 000,000. I happened to be with him when he saw this report, and he was by no means pleased with it. "The newspaper reports," Vitas and Vroctoi Ex-Cabinet Offlcers. said he, "alwavs over-estimate the wealth of a public man. I never made money so fast in my life as since I came to Congress. My actual wealth has not increased, but tho newspapers have mado me out many millions richer than I am." Senator Felton is now nearly 50. noted for his good fellow ship, and can make a speech. Next to Felton the richest man of the new members is probably Cal Brice, who represents Ohio, but lives in New York. Brice's fortune, however, is a speculating one and he is engaged in so manv things that he does not know htmslf just how rich he is. I knew him when he was worth 100,000 less than nothing and this was only about ten years ago. Brice does not look a dav older now than he did ten years ago. He is in his forties and is full of energy. llil! Is a Baseball Crank. Senator David B. Hill will be one of the great characters of the Senate. During his leisure he can vary his talks on statesman ship with chats en baseball with Senator ' I . 1 1 Eft Jmk J0h S5?i- - y- s-c3 , fp Jy, I Op ' gSsJ Gorman, who was once a noted player. Hill is not the only ex-Governor among the new Senators. General Gordon has been twice Governor of Georgia and General John M. Palmer was once the Chief Executive of Illinois. Both Gordon and Palmer are men Vik Gulf Senators Davidson and White, of histories. Both served with credit in the late war, and Palmer came out of it a Major General and Gordon a Lieutenant Generak His handsome face bears scars he received. He was wounded five times at the battle of Sharpsburg and the fifth ball entered his cheek and laid him low on the field. General John 31. Palmer is the oldest of the new members, and with the exception of Morrill he will probably be the oldest man in the Senate. He is especially strong among the farmers, and he is a Presidental possibility in that he could carry as large a farming vote as any man in his party. He is a big man physically and every other way. The Two Alliance Senators. The two Simon-pure Alliance Senators are, however. Senator Peffer, of Kansas, and Senator Kyle, of South Dakota. Both of these men have gotten to the Senate by being constitutional kickers. They have run their campaigns on the begging basis and have made votes by pleading poverty and mortgages. Kyle "came into Dakota someyearsnKoasa Congregational preacher, lie started a church at Abeideen, and his enemies sty that in thr articles of incorpora tion, or in the constitution of the church, he leitoutthiee very Important matters. One of these was as to the Existence of a God, a second was n to the Existence of the Trin ity, and the third as to the belief in a Future State. These, the story eoes, were left out merely through carelessness on Senator K le's pai t, hut one of the old elders recti- ncu tne matter and tnoy goc in. Kyle did nothing politically until this Farmers' Alliance movement came up and then he jumped into the lray on tho side of tho tarmers and advocated their theories. He had no idea of liemg fcenatorand had de cided to loavo the D.i!cotns and move to Bos ton. Iiis household foods were packed and at the depot when he found that he had been chosen to the biggest ofllco in the gift ot his State, that ho had the right to he called Senator Kyle and that his wages for six years to come would bo nearly $1C0 a week, lletheieupon decided to stay. Mr. Kyle is tall, thin and angular in nppearance. He is SO. ears younger than Peffer, and he has no whiskers at nil. Senator I'etfer nrldes himself on his whiskers. Like Samson, his muscle hf s gone into his hair and the rest of his body is tall and thin in consequence. lie has tho students' stooD. and as Inealls says. he talks with a perpetual cough. Neither he nor Kyle are dnnserous, and they are men ot peace rather than of war. Bad Men From the South. The two fighters amonir the new Senators come from the far South and they are more or less allied to the Alliance party. Jerry Simpson says that Irby, of South Carolina, is a renegade and that he has gone back on the Alliance and become a Democrat. Tho Democratic partv are counting on his voto and, whether a Democrat or not, ho prom Peffer and Kyle, the Alliance Solons. ises to cut something of a fleure here. He has the reputation of being a fighter in South Carolina and it is said that he was at several times r-ady to engagis in duels there and that ho went around with his pistol in his pocket and file in his eyes. lie had one or two shooting scrapes and after one left the State tor a time. It is certain that he is no coward. Senator Chilton, of Texas, comes from tho State of bold, bad men. He is a straight, fine looking lellowand wears whin at homo a great sombrero and during a part of his career has carried a revolver on his hip. no is a much stionger man than the average and starting life w ith nothing he has made a reputation ns"a lawyer and a speaker. He is appointed to the Senate by his old friend, Governor Hog. A curious appointment was that of Senator Gibson, of Maryland, the details of which have alieady appeared in The Dispatch. Senators From the Gulf States. The Gulf of Mexico furnishes two new men to tho Senate. Theso are White, of Louisiana, who takes the seat of the rich and phlegmatic Eustis, and Davidson, of Florida, who hopes to hold from now on tho position which the cholerio Call has kept lor the past 12 years. Senator White prom ises to make more of a noise than did Eustis. He is a Louisiana lawyer and is noted for his vitality and nervous energy. He is 6 feet tall, has a robust frame and his hair and complexion are blonde. Ho is well edu- Dangerous Man Irby and ChiUon. cated, speaks French like a Creole and Is very fluent as a debater. He is quick at repii tee, though not bitter In his remarks. He is a sugar planter as well as a lawyer, and has :i large sugar estate near -New Oileans. Ho is a bachelor, but prefers his on n home to a hotel, and he will probably keep house at Washington, with his sister as tho femalo head of the house. Senator Davidson, or Florida, has been in tho low er House of Congress for years. Ho is a man of lair average ability, but with none of tho elementsof great statesmanship or ointory about him. The two ex-Cabinet offlcers who como trotting into tho Senate will probably at tract considerable attention. Proctor, of Vermont, is as mild a man as ever cnt an official throat, but he is fresh fi om the great Department of War, and there is fire In his eye. Vilas has been digesting his postal schemes in tho long walks which he has taken about his Wisconsin home, and he will trot out new bills for tho improvement of the two great departments with which ho has been connected. Tho raco between tho two as to Senatorial notoriety will be un equal. Proctor is rather a business man than a speaker, while Vilas has a great repu tation as both. FaAifK G. C&ierxxTEB. " Stuttering in Print. Hsrpcr's Toung People. "Why do you suppose Boyal "Worcester ware is marked with four "W's?" asked one china connoisseur of another. "I s'pose," remarked a 10-year-old nephew who had overheard, "the man that marked it stuttered." v- -s. v7r hi MOWING THE TIME. Jerusalem Fell Because It Thouglit the Hour Had 5ot Yet Come. 0PP0ETUBITI COMES TO ALL. Even a Temptation Offers the Chance of a Coming Oat for Eight THE PEESEKT THE ACCEPTED HUE riPlimTS FOR THE DIgPATCH.1 It is a good thing to know enough to be able to tell time. To know when it is time to set and when it is time to wait, when it is time to speak and when it is time to re frain from speaking, is to be possessed of some of the most valuable knowledge in the world. Timeliness is a part of the secret of all good success. We have learned a great deal about a man when we have discovered how much he can do in an hour. It is only id arithmetic and on the faces of clocks that an hour is made up of CO minutes. The length of an hour, the number of minutes in it, depends not on any pendulum, but on the heart beats of the man into whose life it comes. He gets the most out of life who is able to get the most number of effective minutes into an hour. One of the lessons of experience is the lesson of the value of time. It is only people of experience, only those who have already lived a considerable portion of their life who "know the time" know how val uable it is. The longer we live, the more we realize that the weeks never come back. "The mill will never grind again with the water that is past," The book of the Sibyl Is the book of human life; every page that is torn out makes the pages that remain more valuable. The Talne of Time. It is a wise man who knows what to do with his time. Time, like money, is valu able only for what we can do with it The mere occupation of time is no great matter. but to employ each hour with its most ad vantazeous occupation, to do at a certain time exactly what ought to be done at just that time that is where we all make more or less of a failure of it. Sunday, for example, comes and goes week after week without bringing any great profit to a great many p.-ople, not because they have no time1 they have 24 hours of it but because they do not "know the time;" do not know, that is, what to do with the time. They who have a clear definition of the meaning of the first day of the week, who know ihat Sunday is really for, and who have learned by experience how to get the most good out of it. these are the only peo ple who understand whv the keeping of a day was set among the Ten Commandments. To everybody else, that is one of the puz zles of religion. It is no wonder that, in many people's estimation, Sunday is tho dullest day of the seven. It is dull because people do not know what to do with them selves. Sinking the Bst of Sunday. Everybody who wants to make the best of Sunday, who wants to get a good start on that day to carry him straight through till Saturday night, who wants to turn a day of dullness into a day ot daylight, makes out for himself an unwritten code of Sunday laws. Thev need not be "blue laws." Thus and thus will I occupy my self upon the Christian holiday. I will go to certain best places: I will read certain best books; I will devote myself to certain worthy deeds. I willbe as definitely employed on" Sunday as I am on Monday. There is no refreshment in laziness. No permanent profit ever grows out of leaving things to chance. It is of little avail for a man to guess at the time. "We ought to "know" the time. Time is only another name for oppor tunity. To know the time is to recognize the opportunity. And that recognition de- Eends on preparation. Unprepared people, ap-hazard people who leave things to chance, iinorant people who cannot tell time, miss all the opportunities. Fore thought and preparation are the two eyes with which to see opportunities. The un prepared are blind. Jerusalem 3Ilssed Her Opportunity. There was once a great city which, for lack of knowledge of the time, fell into utter destruction. Christ Himself visited that city, did His works of marvel there, spoke His words of revelation and of bene diction there. The city was given every sort of spiritual chance. It seemed for a momeut that the city would recognize its opportunity and know the time. As Jesus went along the street crowds went along with Him, before and after, heads were thrust out of all windows, evervbody was asking "Who is this?" "This is" Jesus, the Prophet of Nazareth, in Galilee," was the answer. But somehow, after that, the city seemed to have no further interest. Pres ently, when Jesus was again conducted throughlhe streets, not now in triumphal procession, but as a prisoner, with hands tied and hostile faces turned against Him, the city that had asked that question and got that answer, paid no heed; except that many of the citizens cried "Crucify Him!" It was for this that Jesus wept over that city. The supreme opportunity had come and been rejected. Jerusalem knew not the time of her visitation. By and by she paid the penalty, which in some degree every city and every individual must pay for lack of knowledge of the time. Tho Judgment of the World. This is ttTe season of the year at which, for these many centuries, the thoughts of Christian people have been especially di rected to the coming of our .Lord. The gathering in of the harvest suggests that harvest in which the angels will be the reapers at the end of the world. The death of the plants pnts sober thoughts into our ncarts. The anniversary oi ennst s com ing in the old time, taking our flesh upon Him for our salvation, suggests the antici pation of His coming in the unknown new time, in power and great glory, for the judgment of the world. But all the circumstances of that second coming are overhung with mystery. Noth ing is seen clearly. When it" will be, where it will be, how it will hi, we may ask as long as we will; there is no answer. Even in what is recorded, the line between prophecy and symbol is so faintly drawn that no man knows the real meaning. We know that some time the Lord Christ will be the ruler of all the nations of the earth. We know that some time there will be. a division between the evil and tho good. We know that whatsoever a man soeth that he shall also some time reap. We know that "God does not pay at the end of the week, but He paysl" Th Time Is 'Sot Set. The time of this inevitable payment, howe er, is not that time of which St. Paul says that all good people ought to know it. "Knowing the time" has no application here. "It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in His own power." The best time for us to think about, the best time for us to get acquainted with, to know, is now. The coming of Christ that we ought most to dwell upon is His coming now. A good while ago some people in Thcssa lonica were so much occupied in studying the future, in imagining the end ot the world, and the advent of Christ, and the Day of Judgment, and calculating the time when the drama of the world would come to that supreme and final climax, that they were neglecting their daily business. They stopped work. St. Paul wrote to forbid that. The-Lordhad not come in His great advent yet; nobody knew just when He would come; in the meantime the best oc cupation for every man who was waiting for His coming was to attend to his daily labor, and to do that well. The best prep aration for the coming of the Lord was not a counting of the days, but a continuance of faithful service. Misinterpreted the Prophecies. The people in Jerusalem in thoie days of our Master's visitation there knew not the time, because they were so busy looking ahead to some future time. They were anticipating the coming of the Lord, but they had somehow made it up out of the oId"prophecie3 that he would come in some terrible and splendid way, to strike all be Jiolders with awe and veneration. And when He came in a qniet, human way, as a man among other men, dressed in the gar ments of His day and not in any shining vesture, speaking in simple words whoso grandeur was not in any pomp of utterance, but in the unfathomable truth they taught, these expectant Jerusalemites did not know him. Their eyes were so wide open for some spectacular visitation down out of the glow ing sky, that when they looked that day out of .all their windows and saw a peasant of Galilee, riding in the company of other peasants along the city streets, and were told that this was Jesus, the prophet of Nazareth, they looked no longer. Not in such humble fashion would Messiah come. Xow Is the Accepted Time. Tne truth is, Christ is always coming. The "time" is now. Thev failed to recog nize him in Thessalonica because they were looking over the head of the present into the future. They did not see that he stood beside them in their daily tasks. They failed to recognize him in Jerusalem be cause they were looking for some sort of startling and uncommon advent. The time came, and thev did not "know" it. The lesson is that Christ comes every day in everybody's daily trouble, daily temptation. Jesu3 spoke of the fall ot the Jerusalem as one of his comings. There were some, ne said, among His disciples, who should not taste of death till they should see him come with power. IfHecamein the fall of Jerusalem He has come also in every other crisis that has changed the course of nations. Xes; and in every crisis that comes into the common lives ot common men. A great many biographies that will never be written have a fall of Jerusalem in them somewhere that nobody will ever hear of. except the man or the woman, and their Iriends. "We make a great mistake when we set Christ a great way off. and look for him in the long futnre, and think that the "time" of which this religious season reminds us is at the end of the world, and that Christ's coming will be only in that marvelous blaze of glory told of in the poetry of the old prophecies, with the sun turned into blackness and the moon into blood, with the hills reeling and the sea and the waves roaring, and men's hearts failing them for fear. Judgment Is ForeTer Golnsj On. It is a great deal more to us that the time is the living present, that Christ comes every day to each ot us, that the judgment is forever going on, and that the life eternal begins down here and now. "Knowing the time," writes the apostle, "that now it is high time to awake out of sleep. Let us therefore cast off the works of darkness and let us put on the armor of light." That is the exhortation of Christ Himself at his constant comintr. That is what He says to us in every crisis of our lives. Now put the old away and begin over new. Set that unworthy life behind you, and look up and ahead. Here begins another chapter; recognize the time; seize opportunity; make it a better chapter than any that has yet been written in your life. Christ came" in that long, bitter sickness that you had, out of which jou were hardly expected to recover. Christ came in that fearful peril in which you stood once, and out of which you wera so wonderfully res cued and restored. Christ came m that great loss that you suffered in your business, or in that loss that you feared, but that never actually happened. Christ came in that grievons sin which left that black chapter in your life which it frightens you to think of. Christ came in that awful bereavement which made that tragic difference in your whole life after it. Opportunity of a Temptation. Christ comes in every moment of tempta tion. Temptation is an opportunity to show our love for God. We have to make a quick decision for or against God. Every en counter with temptation is a little Day of Judcraent. We set ourselves on the right hand or on the left. Then we ought to "know the time," to realize what it all means, to appreciate the eternal importance of that moment of decision. Now is the time! Now is the time to take the hand of Christ anil turn the back upon the devil. Now is the time to sav "No!" and '-No:" and again "No!" God gives help straight out of hpaven to everv tempted man every time ne says "No" a good deal of help the first time, and twice as much the second time, and so on; the harder it is to say it the greater the streneth that is given with the saying. Christ comes "in every time of spiritual invitation. Every man who feels a stirring in his heart, who is conscions of a desire to live better than he has been livins, is called bv Christ, We make a mistake if we think that Christ will call us in anv strange, un usual way. Wc need not listen for any voice out of the sky. We need not wait for any singular experience, for any extra ordinary tumult of feeling. The call of Christ comes just as quietly to-day as it came in Jerusalem. And it means now just what it meant then. Nothing Extraordinary In the Coining. Christ comes along the way of our -common lives. The voice divine speaks to us in a book that we are reading, in the con versation of a friend, in the apneal of a ser mon. And the call is siraplv to a better conforming of our will to the will of Jesus Christ. That is what it means to be a Christian: to take the life of Jesus Christ as the ideal life, and day by dav to try harder and harder to live that life right here and now. Whoever honestly deter mines to do that, is a Christian. And his place is in the church of Christ. The great thing in all these visitations, in every crisis, every temptation, every call of Christ, is to "know the time," and then to use the time. Time passes, and opportunity passes with it. Christ weeps over the city that knew not the time, for at last it is too late. Now is the accepted time, the only time there is. Now Christ stands amongst us, calling ns into disciplcship, into allegi ance, into obedience to Him. "To-day, if we will hear His voice, harden not your hearts." To-morrow who knows that he will have any to-morrow. Geokge Hodges. BEBIKG SZA ABBITBATIOff. "It Turns Upon Points Jfot Covered hy In ternational Iw. St. Paul Pioneer Press.3 The announcement made by the Attorney General that the differences between the United States and Great Britain as to rights in the seal fisheries of Bering Sea would be submitted to arbitration is welcome news. It was to tome extent foreshadowed by the agreement in force during the past season for a joint policeingof those waters; since it was obvious that the t'vo Governments at odds would scarcely approach &i near as this, to a common line of action unless a more deliberate and permanent understand ing were in sight. That this is to be reached by the method now npproved by all civil ized nations, and especially favored and supported by the TJnited States, an agree ment to arbitrate, is a cause for general con gratulation. , The dispnte is one which, upon the face of it, misht be conducted interminably by skillful diplomats and argued without con clusion before the highest courts. For it turns upon points that are not covered by the accepted principles of international law, and rests upon a basis of alleged facts about which we could not expect that our opinion should prevail. It may be admitted that Russia could transfer to the United States, at the time when we purchased Alaska, only such rights as she herself po-sessed in adjoining waters. But what were those rights? Did they make of Bering Sea a mare clausum? Analogies are little help ful, for each nation, in cases anything like parallel, has held, .of course, to the view which, in that particular instance, promised it the greatest advantage. And we our selves had a very different idea of inter national rights and privileges in the waters of Bering Sea when they washed only Rus sian territory from the view that seemed both natural and necessary when the devel opment of great values in the Alaskan seal fisheries had given us a personal stake. BH0WIKG A GUEST OUT, A. Uttls Bit or Tact Will Leave a Soil Asrerable Impression. pralTTKS TOR TITE DISPATCIT.1 Can there be a perfect way in such an ordinary performance as showing a euest out? Certainly there is. It is the way tha American servant knowcth not. She goes to the door with an indecent haste that smacks of glee. She doesn't even open it, she only gets it ajar with a nice calculation of space that gives just the crack you can slip out through, no more. And she even grudges yon that. Yon have a shamed sense of being thrust out into the world; and before you have gathered up your self respect and your skirts, while your heel is still upon the door-sill, the snap of tha knob is heard behind you. Lucky yon ara if you don't hear the sound of the bolt in the socket, as if yon were a tramp or a book ssent. The English maid knows how to make this act beautiful. There is an exquisite air of deferenee and respect, as she opens ths door, even a touch of regret in her manner that she should be opening the door for your departure, instead of for your en trance. And then comes the gentlest tact of alL You never hear an English house maid close the door behind you. She holds it open until you have descended the step?, at least; perhaps unti yon are quite upon the street, and she closes it so softly that the click of the latch never comes to your ear. You are inexpressibly soothed and flattered, and yon step ofT feeling that the gracious tact of the mistress is most charm ing where it has revealed itself in the in struction that has taught the maid to ba gracious. PBACXICAL W0K2IT OF THS WilSt How the Farmers' Alllnneo Methods .Ex tend Even to Matrimonial Aflalrs. Detroit Free Press. J He had proposed to the fair Westerner and she had dropped him so hard his heart broke. "And you will never marry me?" la wailed despairingly. "Not this time," she answered breezily. "I'm mortgaged. Come around and see mo when I'm a widow and I'll see how I feel about it then." "Oh, you heartless, heartless woman,"" he groaned" bitterly. "You have robbed me of all hope; you have made me lose faith in woman; you have made me distrust man kind; you have made me believe that tho whole world is a fraud and a sham and that the simple and honest and good and indus trious and poor and weak are to he crushed to the earth; you " "Oh, get out," she interrupted; "yon're a regular calamity howler, you arc; don't yon suppose there isn't any other woman in tho world? Go and reform yourself. You make me tired clean through," and she bounced him. Endjard Is Confident. "Bndyard Kipling told me in London last summer," says a correspondent, "that he would not put his pen down to write a short story of 5,000 words unless he was guaranteed $500 in advance. The question is, however, will be always be able to com mand this price? I put this question to him and he modestly replied, "Yes, and more; just wait." SCROFULA eczema, tetter, boifs, ulcers, sores, rheumatism, and catarrh, cured by taking AVER'S Sarsaparilla it purifies, vitalizes, invigorates, and enriches the blood. Has Cured Others will cure you. We think we value health ; but are all the time making sacrifices, not for it, but of it. We do to-day what we must or like ; we do what is good for us when we have to. We could live in full health, do more work, have more pleasure, amount to more, by being a little careful. Careful living is the thing to put first ; let us send you a book on it ; free. Scott & Eowrc, Chemists, 133 Sooth 3th Avemio, Nevr Yor!c Your dmggfet keeps Scott's Emnlxon oi oodJxrtr oil all dnigjists everywhere do. ji. 43 ARE WE Right or A Slice Dressing must restore the bril liancy of a worn shoe, and at the same tima preserve the softness of the leather. LADIES will the Dressing yon are lising; do both ? Try it 1 Pour a dessert spoonful of your Dressing into a saucer or butter plate, set it aside for a'few days, and it will dry to a substance as hard and brittle as crushed glass. Can such a Dressing be good for leather? will stand this test and dry as a thin, oily film which is as flexible as rubber. 25 Dollars north of Hsw Furniture for 25 nts. HOW? By painting 25 square feet of Old Furniture with T3trn WOLFF Cl RANDOLPH, 827 Horti Frost Street, TTrTT"TlTTriTlTrrtj - JVrong? Wolff sHOIEBWng SiK-ON r a Atrr Tfir wr tL . Mm aj Mxr rMoi4f.l m. f " te WWH i
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers