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