nifWf TOgysJg5MBB!IBBBHKBHaBBwW!BMBMMiBBMMMBBKBSBBBBMfflMWHWBff vyjMsgwfl5MBHBBBr, THE PITTSBURG- DISPATCH SUNDAY, MAT 15, 1892, r i , 19 BEAUTY ATJHE TUB, TIio Ioyely laundresses of Taris Are Subjects for the Artists' Brush. CHEEKS LIKE THE EOSES, Hair in Glossy KaTen Locks and Ankles Care in Shoes of Wood. THE PDBLIC WASHING HOUSES. Scenes Along the Streams When the Pretty Women Are at Work. GOEGEOUS STREET TAKADE EACH TEAR tWJIITTEJ.- FOB THE DISrATCH.I CURIOUS Parisian has estimated that there are 31,250,000 pounds of soiled linen washed every week in this queen of cities. The figures are not surprising if one remembers that Paris numbers 2, 500,000 souls, and that the habit of the people is to change iheir linen oftcner than we do in Amer ica; say, on an aver age, twice a week. Add to the foregoing heap the handker chiefs, enough to canopy the Depart ment of the Seine, the table linen not forgetting that a French napkin is always large enough for a tea cloth the bed linen, etc, etc., and we have a startling heap of diriv clothes. tff J clothes are rinsed and blued. They look wnite enougii, but the transiormation is not all due to the paddle and brush. Unfor tunately lor the Parisian linen, the laun dresses use ruinous quantities of a fluid which rots things shockingly.. If the washer can afford it she can now have her clothes put through an iron wrin;cr for 5 cents. This machine is of great usefulness in the Paris laundries, for it practically exhausts the water from the garments, it makes the drying much easier and drying is a grave question where space is limited and custom large. The laundries along the Seine and many of those in the city have drying rooms above the washrooms. Here the clothes are hung very close together. The sides of the building are made of shutters and the clothes are dried by cold air. Twenty-four hours in these rooms cost 4 cents, a few laundries have hot-air drying rooms where 5 cents a hanging is charged. A Family Washing Tor Bitty Cents. It is estimated here that the cost of a family washing, which requires not over two hours of the woman's time at the laun dry, is, including her time, about 50 cents. It is plain that for a great many Parisian workmen this expense is too great Many compromise, soaking their linen at home. ! carrying it to the laundry to wash, wringing li Dy nana ana arying n euncr ueiore ineir fire "or from the window. Many, of course, perform the entire operation in the family living room. This practice all the world admits is un healthy. Worse, it is ruinous to the com fort and the good nature of evervbodv in the vicinity. If anything will drive hus band and children away from home it is to have to sit within reach of the steam of a wash tub, yet hundreds of families in Paris as thousands in our American cities must wah in their one living room or not at all. This unfortunate alternative philanthropic Parisians have been trying at intervals for 40 years and more to change by establish ing municipal laundries, where, at a low cost, or even for nothing, the poor might wash their linen. The first of these experiments was made in 1850, the Government having ap propriated $150,000 to testing the English system of public baths and laundries. The experiment failed. Several reasons are given for the failure. A curious but plaus ible one is that the new laundry followed the English plan and separated the stalls by high screens so that a worker was cnt off entirely from her neighbors. Anyone who has watched the scene of sociability in a French laundry, or who has read Zola's faithful description of it in "L'Assom moir," will appreciate this explanation. Fifty to 100 women rather at their tubs.and aboe their beating, splashing and brushing A FAIR ADVENTURESS. The 30-Tear Record of Sophia Lyons From Inspector Byrnes' Diary. A PEETTI LIffTLE PICKPOCKET, Then a Bold Blackmailer and Then a High Boiler in Europe. HER DABING EECAPJ! FROM SING SING .... I "caiurreni oi cnan, gossiD ana some- The cleansing of this mountain is not done times most entertaining quarreling. Xow ' VMM. f . &-? y;,Ksv Tsrs S --& -Sr wm- A SCENE ALONG TIIE KIVEK BANK. V& K? at home as is usual with us. Paris houses are not furnished with laundries. There is place for neither tubs nor drying racks or lines. Eierybody puts his linen out The weekly washing thus becomes a public ques tion in Paris. Ton Get Your Washinc; Once a TYek. To the rich it is a matter of small con sequence. All through the city there are to be seen neat little black-faced shops over whoe doors are printed in white letters the norp 151anchis-erie, and in whose windows are specimens of the work done within bcautilul linen garments, immaculate in whiteness.and ironed and folded so as to look as if just from the factory. These shops emplov 10, 15 or 20 girls who Monday morn ing go to the homes of the customers for the linen. Tuesilav and Wednesday they wash It at a public washing house intlic vicinity of the shop, and the rest of the week they spend in ironing. Sunday the linen is re turned. The customer pays a good price for good work, andmnless he is a foreigner does not complain if his clothes fall to pieces rapidly. But for the modest Paris household of one servant where economy rules; for the poor who have no servant; iortlie wives of work incmen who not only manage the house hold, but work away from home 10 or 12 hours of every day, the weekly washing is a more serious matter. To accommodate their needs, as well as those of the laun dresses of the rich, some 400 public laun dries have been established in Paris. Many ol these are on river, others are on quiet streets just off the great boulevards. A I'nblic r-aundry of l'arls. A visit to one of these places compels the breathing ol a great deal of soap-sudsy steam and the soaking of the boots in the pools and rivulets on the floor, but it is by no means an uninteresting pilgrimage. A preliminary trip should be made about 4 o'clock in the alternoon of any day save Saturday or Sunday, to see the clothes put to soak. At that tune the patrons of the place are out in force, the bundles in arms, bundles which by their size and condition tell fauhlullv enougii the situation of the bearer a pitiful tale it is, too, sometimes. Kach package handed in is numbered and dumped into the big snaking tub where it stays until morning when the owner comes to seek it, paj ing 2 to 4 cents according to size lor its night's lodging, and to do her washing. The laundry is in one large room. Xear the door is a space reserved lor the accountant's desk, for a counter over which are sold soap, washing fluid and other necessarv supplies for the big soak ing tubs and for the great iron wringer. The rest oi the room is divided into stalls. It is one of these stalls which the wash woman rents. For 1 cent an .hour, 4 cents a half-day or 8 cents a full day she has the use of a pail, three tubs, a washing box a wooden box of three sides, waist-high, in which she ttands when belore her tub and which protects her from the splashings a mulling brush and paddle and to as much cold water as she wants. She pays a cent a pail for hot water or suds. SIib Uses a F.iddlr and a rtrnsh. Thus equipped, she cleans her linen, but not in the orthodox American way bv rub bing on a board. Instead, she spreads the garments one by one on the rough pine table with which her stall is furnished, and by turn beats them with a wooden paddle and rubs them with a stiff brush. When the dirt is thus beaten and brushed out the and then a wandering merchant enters sell ing pins, ornaments, ribbons, what-not There is a large class of these retailers who make a specialty of the laundries, and the women greet them with joy, gathering about in groups which.if damp, are none the less picturesque, for these healthy Parisian laundresses, wooden shoes on their feet,petti coats turned up about their waists, arms bare, cheeks rosy with exerc:se,black locks, moist and curling, are sights for painters. 2Co doubt the best explanation of the fail ure of the laundry is that the people were wedded to their ways and preierred to wash along the Seine or in the courts of the houses (a practice then tolerated but never seen now) and to dry in the vacant lots which were frequent then but have since disappeared, or from the windows. The publicity of laundry work in France has given it some novel features. "Washing out-of-doors in the streams still prevails in the provinces and to an extent in Paris itself. One cannot go the length of the Seine inside of the city without seeing men on the quavs scrubbing their linen and without finding near the walls women kneel ing in their wooden washing boxes pound ing with a stone the familr clothes. The stone is generally used by those who wade in the streams and has given rise to a belief, common among strangers in Pans, that the early disintegration of their linen is due to this unfriendly instrument; a mistake, the quantities of washing fluid do the mischief. A peculiarity of the laundry business in Paris is its compact organization and the loyal allegiance and fondness which its personnel give to each other and their trade. At no time is this shown so well as at Mi-Careme the third Thursday of Lent a day given up entirely by the city to the laundresses and their merry-making. A VerjrXoTel Celebration. The preparation for the celebration begins some weeks before hand. Each laundry elects from among its regular habitues a queen. These queens meet with the pro prietors of the establishments and elect a qneen or queens. From that time on the laundries are busy preparing chariots and costumes for their grand parade. It is costly business, for the price of decorating a chariot is from J20 to $50, and a showy costume rarely rents for less than $10. But then Mi-Careine comes but once a year, and uaic nit) nut ueeu saving lor ltiormontnsr AVhen the great day comes these chariots filled with the laundry people, and preceded by cavalry and followed by fantastic adver tisements on wheels make a long tour of the city. The entire Parisian world turn out to see and help on the lun. Mi-Careine of the present year was the merriest the city has seen for a long time, so old Parisians say. One reason for this was the introduction of a novelty paper confetti The plaster con fetti used so long in Italy has been largely replaced there by tiny round pieces of paper of various colors. Paris, however, has never seen any of this until Mardi Gras of this year. It was a success, and large quan tities were prerfared for Mi-Careme. The laundresses had the joy of seeing their day celebrated by confetti battles which lasted for hours in the great boulevards and squares, which filled the air with tiny disks until it seemed like a fall of snow, and which left a carpet several inches thick for the street sweepers of the next day to wrestle with. Little wonder that the Parisians love their laundresses, and celebrate them in song and story aud picture since, added to their usefulness and picturesqueness, they give them one of the gayest days of all their gay year. Ida jr. TaEBELL. tWKlTTKT TOK THE DISPATCH.! A newspaper in Detroit, Mich., recently published a series of articles written by a woman, now a resident of that city, whose career of crime and adventure is without a parallel In history. This woman has been known by many aliases in America and Europe, but her real name is Mrs. Sophia Lyons. She was a professional criminal and adventuress for 30 years, and her last arrest, which occurred in Paris in 1888, came near developing into an inter national question. She was then living in Paris under the assumed name of De Varney, and having plenty of money she lived in the best style, and no one suspected her real character. She once operated in Pittsburg. "When she was arrested her friends ap pealed to ths American Minister in her behalf, and bv that means obtained her re lease, and she was able to get out of the country before her identity could be estab lished. The remarkable historv of this woman is told for the first time in this story, a complete record of her crime and ad ventures having been "kept by Inspector Byrnes, of New York City, the whole mak ing one of the most interesting chapters of his diary. Too Pretty to Bo Prosecuted. In 1859 a prety girl 12 years old was ar reited on the streets of New York for pick ing pockets. She was identified as Sophia Elkins, of Jersey City. She was caught in the act of taking a purse from a lady's pocket, but on account of her beauty and tender years she was not prosecuted. Within a month after her release she was arrested three times for the same offense, but each time the parties she had robbed re fused to prosecute because she was so young. The police investigated her case and found that she was working for Kate G or ham, a notorious pickpocket oi that rlav. Still no one would prosecute her and she was al lowed toga At the age of IG the girl met Maury Har ris, a famous pickpocket and thief, and after a brief courtship they were married. Two weeks after the wedding the bride was arrested for picking pockets, was tried, con victed and sent to State's prison for two years. She served the full term aud alter her release turned shoplifter, at which she was successful for a time. She met and fell in love with Henry Newman, alias Dutch Heindrick, a bank robber and sneak thief, and the two lived together for awhile as man and wife. After a tevr months they quarreled and separated and the woman then met and married Ned Lyons, an all around thief. This marriage was legal, the woman's first husband, Harris, having died some time DCiore. She Bobbed Millionaire Stewart. Soon after her second marriage the woman began robbing the store ot A. T. Stewart She was soon detected and one day was ar rested with a stolen cloak in her possession. She was convicted and sentenced to Sing Sing Prison for five years. Ned Lyons was much attached to his wife and as soon as the prison doors closed on her he began making plans for her rescue. After she had been in prison a short time, her conduct hav ing been good, she was allowed the liberty of the big prison yard during the day. This was the opportunity Lyons had been watting for. He engaged a fine carriage and employed John Killoran, a noted thief, as driver. Taking a well dressed woman with him, Lyons drove to the Sing Sing prison on a sight-jeeing tour. They were admitted and Lyons told his car riage driver, Killoran, to wait for them in the prison ard. Sophia Lyons was in the prison yard when the carriage entered and recognized the driver. He managed to speak to her and she got in the carnage without being seen by the guards and hid under the seat In this way she was carried out safely. As soon as they were out of the prison Lyons drove his wife to the railroad station and put her on a train with a ticket to Canada. She got out of the country safely, and in a few months later Lyons bought a house in Detroit, where his wife joined him. Bought a House 'With Stolen Money. The house was paid for with money stolen from a bank at Waterford, N. Y., aiid a few months afterward Lyons was arrested for the robbery, brought back and sent to Sing Sing. Lyons lett his wife in Detroit penni less, but she was well able to take care of herself. One day she sent a note to a promi nent and wealthy citizen of the town, a man wellknown throughout the country at that time, inviting him to call at her house. He went and was invited into a private room. As soon as he entered the room she induced him on some pretext to remove his coat Then she took the coat and threw it out of a window, and drawing a pistol com pelled the man to sign a check lor $10,000, payable to bearer. She got the check cashed and her victim would not prosecute her, preferring to lose the money rather than have the matter become public. For a time Mrs. Lyons lived in good style, and when her funds were low she would resort to blackmail. Finally, the Detroit police found out who she was and she fled to avoid arrest She went to Boston and, taking rooms at a fash ionable hotel, lived there for awhile in the character of a wealthy widow from the West She made many acquaintances, and finally selected a wealthy mo reliant as a victim for blackmail. She tried the same plan with him that she had so successfully worked in Detroit, only the check was for $50,000 this time. She got the check, but her intended victim beat her to the bank and stopped payment on it, and she did not get the money. A DujI in New York City. While in Boston Mrs. Lyons made the acquaintance of a gambler and man about town of the name ot Brock. They came to New York together. When her husband was released from Sing Sing, he heard the story of his wife's neir love, and as soon as he could obtain money enougii he purchased a pistol and started out to kill Brock. He walked into the latter's place of business and began shooting at him witnout a word. Brock drew a pistol and shot Lyons down, wounding him badly. As soon as she learned that her husband was shot Mrs. Lyons bun-fed to his side and nursed him back to health. When he recovered they agreed to forget the past and lived together again. They decided to leave New York and started out to work country fairs, plying their old trade of picking pockets. Lyons soon got into prison again. His wife, alter securing a large sum of money, sailed for Europe, where she assumed the name of Mrs. De Varney and the role of a wealthy American lady traveling for her health. She went to Monte Carlo and played heavily, losing large sums of money. Then she visited various places of interest and finally went to Paris to live. Mrs. Lyons was getting old at this time, 1888, but she still retained much ot her beauty, and, be ing a woman of considerable intelligence, she was able to make a good impression and made friends easily. V on an English Nobleman's Heart. In Paris she met an English nobleman who became her devoted admirer. In the French capital she lived in good style and her funds were soon exhausted. She had determined to marry the Englishman, and she knew that it was necessary to keep up a show of wealth. When her money was all gone 'she resorted to her old trade of picking pockets, and that was the beginning of the end of the romance of her life. The Englishman was in love with her, and his heart and title had been laid at her feet They were all he had to offer her, but she accepted him. July 17, 1838, she was arrested on a charge oi ueing a piCKpocsec, ana put in unsuu. Her English lover was furious at what ha termed an outrage on an American lady. and he at once went to work to secure her release. He appealed to the authorities and invoked the aid of the American Min ister. The woman was released after three days' confinement and told that her arrest was a mistake. When she lett the prison she forgot her money and jewels. The fol lowing day she returned lor them and was again arrested and locked up. Her English lover did not desert her and in a few, days he had made the matter a sensation in France and America. Long dispatches were sent to American newspapers from Paris about the case, and it was said that tne American Minister would demand, was the woman be released and a suitable apology made to her. Fled to the City of the Strait. Many American residents of Paris took an interest in the matter and declared that the arrest was an outrage. The Englishman brought such strong pressure to bear on the police officers thev again released the woman without bail, pending a full investigation of tne case. But they were not ratisnca oi ner innocence, and sent her photograph to In spector Byrnes with a request that ne in form them'if he knew the woman. Mrs. Lyons in some way learned that her pnotograpn natt been sent to jNew xors, where it would be compared with the one in the Eogues' Gallerv. taken several vears be fore, and without saying goodby to her nouie j&ugusu lover or kuiu uucntiu friends, she left Paris and returned to this country under a new name. She went back to the old home in Detroit, which she still owned. She is living there quietly, and has never been arrested bince her return from France. Eecently she began writing articles for the newspapers over another name. Five children were born to Ned and Sophia Lyons. The eldest, a boy, became a professional thief at an early age, and died in Auburn prison several years ago. Three daughters grew up respectable women, and one of them is now an inmate of a well known convent in New York. Walter L. Hawlet. J SBflafiVDnaSaKSwffl ' Wm Wmmm wKB$Wtfy Jip8t JirofflMI w&flmjJjfZtsiJA -rtiilffrWHi8JWXWT IMf ''2' liillU m. j,c jHHnr nr rmmmmm iwmMKmwmmm&mmi m mmsbmmmmmiwi MvsVXNiUl 1 1 ! 'SWSjml 1 1 1 1 1 W 1 1 wwmm ymsmtmmmmL i gmmsrr a ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE. MEMORIES OF BEECHER. TALES OF HIS CHILDHOOD LINGER IN LITCHFIELD. THAT 1'laylne Preacher In ths Haymow Hli Father Enthusiasm for Rod and Line A Hot-Ueaded Old Fallow Who Didn't Care tor Criticism. iwniTTitN ron tiie dispatch.! Interest in Henry Ward Beecher having been reawakened by the recent articles of his wife, it may not be inopportune to make public certain local traditions which are cur rent concerning him in the village of his childhood. Litchfield, the shire-town of the county of the same name in the northeast corner of Connecticut, is an aristocratic village with a population of a thousand in the winter and perhaps three times as many inthe sum mer. Its broad streets are lined with regu lar rows of majestic elms and maples, and flanked with the smoothest and greenest of lawns; it is. in short, a perfect type of the oeantiful New England village. And here it was that from 1810 to 1826 the Beecher home was located. The old Beecher corner is still pointed out on one of the principal struts, although the familr mansion has been moved a quarter of a mile distant, and forms one of a group of buildings used as a private insane asylum. The old-fashioned windows with their narrow panes are just as they were when the youthful Harriet and Henry Ward peeped from them three-quar ters of a century ago. Beecher as a Boy. Late in his life the venerable Lyman Beecher revisited Litchfield, and, pointing to the cemetery, said: "There lies my con gregation." If not true at that time, it is to-day, although about the town are still found a few men who as boys listened to the famous "sermons on temperance." The in cidents which follow are related by these veterans, and came from them either direct ly or indirectly to the writer while a resi dent of Litchfield. In bygone days one Betsy Collins man aged the village school, and "at least two of these old men were under the rule of her rod at the same time as the embryo illus trious divine. They describe the youthful Henry Ward as a stout but stocky lad, shock-headed, with a florid moony lace and fair hair. A short jacket reached somewhere toward the middle of his back, and on his te-nplcs his hair was plastered down in the old-fashioned "snap locks." As a student he was inattentive and listless, thinking more of leisure than of lessons; but occa sionally he would become interested and surprise the prim old teacher bv his ability. This was most often the case on the weekly alternoon for "speaking pieces," at which he is described as being "smart as fury;" then it was that the seed germinated which finally flowered in the oratory which in the sixties turned the sympathies of the En glish people from the Southern Confeder acy. A Falplt In a Haymow. In these early dajrs his pulpit power like wise had its beginning. Not far from the schoolhouse was a barn in which the boys played. Here he would climb'to the mow, make of hay a barricade somewhat resem bling his father's piano-box pulpit, and standing behind it with only his head and shoulders in sight, would pour forth a torrent of inarticulate sounds, aptlv mimic ing the peculiarities of his venerable sire. Then kicking away his pulpit, he would roll heels over head to the edge of the mow and jump down among his highly satisfied and appreciative audience. Both Henry Ward Beecher and his sister, the author of "Uncle Tom's Cabin," were born in Litchfield. Their father was a man of decided opinions as well as ability, and was accustomed to do pretty much as lie was inclined without regard to the thoughts of the elders and prominent pillars of his parish. To relieve the monotony of his regular duties he was accustomed to lure with rod and line the finny tribe, a sport in which he greatly delighted. It is claimed that not infrequently while fishing at "The Pond" a mile away, he would forget all about an afternoon service, and would re member it only when he heard the ringing ofthcbelL Then he would urge his staid old nag to an unheard-of pace, and rush into the church breathless and annoyed, even on one occasion Falllnc Fish From His Pocket as be ascended the pulpit steps. One day he was casting for trout not far from an unfrequented road, when he was interrupted by one ot the deacons. This grave old man remonstrated with his pastor, saying that such recreation was not even respectable; to which the independent parson, as lie drew forth a glistening beauty, replied, "then I'll make it respectable." Of his sermons the schoolmates of his illustrious children do not remember much. But they were vivid and realistic, and full of sulphur, and burning lakes may be im agined from the fact that one of these old gentlemen recalls that "they scared even us boys like thunder." Fishing was not the only fault of this old New England divine who was wont to ex hort his people "to do as he said, not as he did;" he also played the fiddle. Dyspepsia was one ot his foes, and when his digestive organs would become unusually intractable, he would withdraw himself to his study, and there in solitude would saw forth dolorous tunes never heard before, and the plaintive groamngs and grindings of his stomach would be soothed by the doleful music of his violin. T. C. B. SOME OF THE TOETIC PASSAGES. The latest work of Algernon Charles Swinburne, who stands next to Tennyson in the hearts of the poetry-loving of England, is a tragedy entitled "The Sisters." It Is dedi cated to Lady Mary Gordon, aunt of the poet Advance sheets have been secured by Tiie DispAicn, and this is the first American publication. The interest centers in four young people. Two, Mabel and Anne Dilston, are twin sisters and co-heiresses, and formerly wards of Sir Arthur Clarering. Funk Dilston is the son of Sir Francis Dilston and cousin of the sisters. The hero, so to speak, is Regi nald Clavering, cousin of Sir Arthur and just returned from Waterloo, where he is wounded and hence glorified on account of Napoleon's downfall. The scene is Clavering Hall, Northumberland. Both sisters are in love with Keginald. The two young men are in love with Mabel. Reginald thinks that Mabel would be happv only with Frank and, imagining that Frank's love for her is the deeper, asks Prank to take her and never, after the wedding, to mar her happiness by telling her the story of his love. But Frank learns that Mabel loves Reginald, and seeing that Mabel would be most happy with him sets about to bring the two lovers to an understanding, though it eost him his own happiness. He tells Mabel to let Reginald know her feelings. She does so, and a betrothal follows. When Annie hears of it she says. "I cannot bear it; and I cannot die." Tne young quartet are arranging for a play a tragedy that Reginald his written. In it the charac ters are strangely like those of the real lite the poet is jHescribing. Poison is introduced by which the character Anne assumes kills her rival the character Mabel assumes. The char acter Frank assumes stabs that carried by Reginald, and in the plav Reginald and Mabel die in each other's arms, while Frank, learning of the poisoning, stabs Anne,and she dies. For use in tne tragedy, instead of make-believe poison, Anne manages to get hold of some real poison and conceals it on her person alter the play is over. Mabel discovers the tempting looking fluid and begs a drink of it Anne gives her the flask. She drinks and hands the flask to Reginald, who also takes a draught So they die in each other's arms. Mabel and Reginald, in their dying moments, divine the truth, bnt with their last breaths insist that it was only a terrible accident, for which no one is to blame. friend Anne, Frank, or me when you were lying, cut down. Helpless, that hideous summer night? And now ' You will not speak or stir? O, Reginald Slust I say everything and more and you Kothill!!? Rfg.natil-Uy love! Mabell What can It Mabel Say Just that again. Reginald How can It bet Mabel My love, How could it bet Reginald Hear have I deserved This? Mabel Bow can I tell yout Do you tell mo Now, what you would not ell Prank's wife. Reginald Yon know 1 need not tell yon. Mabel Tell me, though. Reginald I thought lietwoam the shoots and swoonlngs, off and on. How hard It was. If anything, was hard Whon one was dying Tor England, not to see Mabel, when I could see ths stars. I thought How sweet It was to know they shone on her Asleep or waking, here at home. I thought I could have wished, and should not wish, to send My - hole heart's love back as my life went oiu. To And her here and clasp her close and say What I could never how much I had loved her: Then I thought how base and bad a fool I was To dream of wishing what would grieve her. Then I think 1 fell 'asleep. Mabel And that was all, Redgle? R'ginald And that was all, Mabel. Mabe' Vou did You did not think, If she had known If she, Asleep and dieamlng here, had dreamed ol It What lovo sha would have sent you bade or yours - , . Exit Anne I cannot bear It: and I cannot die. !i!'song -which occurs In Reginald's play which the young people put on their little stage is" given here: Love'and Sorrow met In May Crownpd with -rue and hawthorn spray. Ana oorrow smiiou. Scarce a bird of all the spring Durst betweon them pass and slnjr, And scarce a child. Loto put forth his bajid to take Sorrow's wreath for sorrow's sake, Her crown ofrue. Sorrowcastrhefore he"rdown Even for love's sake Love's own crown, Crowned with dew. f Winter breathed azaln, and spring Cowered and shrank with woundod wing Down out of sight. May, with all,ner loves laid low, Eaw no flowers but flowers of snow That mocked her flight. Love rose np with crownless head Smiling down on springtime dead, On wintry May. Sorrow, like a cloud that flies Like a cloud In clearing skies, Passed away. Tn , the fifth act a soliloquy is put into Anne's mouth thus: To bear my death about mo till I dlo And always put the time on", tremblingly. As If I loved to live thus, would be worse. Than death and meaner than the sin to die. The sin to kill myself or thlnlc oflt I have sinned that sin alroadv. Not a day That brings the dav I cannot'llvo to see Nearer, but burns my heart like flames and makes ITy thoughts within me serpents fanged with Are. He w ould not weep if I were dead, and sha Would. If I make no better haste to die, I shall go mad and tell him pray to him, If not for love, for mercy on me cry "Look at me once not as you look at her. Bat not as every dav you look at me And see who loves' you, Reginald." Ah, God, That-one should yearn at heart to do or say what if it ever could be said or aono Would strike one dead with shame! STORAGE A SUCCESS It Will Kot Be long Before the Bat tery Is Made Practicable. NONSENSE OF AN ELECTEIC SHOE. A Workman Poisoned by Too Frequently Testing for Currents. NEW METHOD OP TEMPERING SPBING3 Chamberlain's Colic, Cholera and Diarrheas .Remedy Is the standard. Its many cures hare won It praise from Maine to California. Every family and every traveler should be pro vided with it at all times. No other rem. edy can take its place or do its work. 25 and CO cent bottles for sale by druggists. TTSO. There are nine stanzas In the prelude which are the embodiment of a child's re membrance. The last two stanzas follow: Till. Sun, moon, and stars behold the land and sea No less than ever lovely, bright as hope Could hover, or as happiness can he: Fair as of old the lawns to seawaid slope. The fields to seaward slant and close and ope: But where of old from strong and sleepless wells The exulting fountains fed their shapely shells. Where lijrht once dwelt In water, dust now dwells. lz. The springs of earth may slacken, and the sun Find no moto langhlng lustre to relume Whero once the sunlight and the spring seemed one; But not on heart or soul may time or doom Cast aught of diought or lower with aught of doom . If past and future, hope and memory, be Ringed round about with love, last bound and fiee. As all the world Is girdled with the sea. Reginald's sacrifice of his love in response to Frank's suggestion that Mable may love him is put in these Hues: No, my boy. She does not Come, we need not talk of that. I think mock-modesty a mincing He The dirtiest form of self-conceit that is. Quite, and in either sense the vainest. Tou She may not lovo Just yet but mo, I know. She never will. I ought to say "Thank God," Being poor, and knowing myself unworthy her A jounger son's son, with a closed career Should peaco prove now as stable as it looks If I on my sldo loved her as I should And If I knew sho would be, as I fear No, hope sho will, happlor with you than me. I can't do that, quite; If I conld. and did, I should be just a little less unfit To diram that she could love me which I don't. Frank You don't mean that you want me Reginald I do mean I want her to be happy; as for you. If I don't want you to bo mlserablo It onlv shows I am not oulto a cur. Frank Tou never were; but If you meant me well, What made you go campaigning and come back A herot Frank says to Reginald that Mabel ought indeed to love him if she only knew how well he loved her. To this Reginald re sponds: And that, please God, she never will. When you And she are married. If you tell her so. You'll play the traitor, not to mo but her Make her unhappy Tor the mlnuto. Don't. She would be sorrier than I'm worth, you know. To think of any sorrow not her own And given by her unconsciously. She had Always the sweetest heart a girl could have. "Swcetheartl" she might have been the first girl born Whose lover ever called her by the name. The conclusion of Frank's dialogue with Mabel, in which he discovers her love for Reginald, is: T lnvn von; bnt I see how vou love hlmi And think you are right. He loves you more than I Yes, moio than I can more than most men could Lovo even you. You are no mate for me, I am no mate for you, the song says. Well, So bo it. God send you happiness with him! Ho has done more than glvo you up give up All chance of you he would not take the chance That honor, as he thought, forbade. Do you Reward him. The interview between Mabel and Regi nald follows : Mabel You remomber our old rides Tell me about vour ride at Waterloo. Reginald Moie like a swim against a charg ing sea It was, than like a race across the moors Yonder. . Mnhe'r.nt whena breaker cot you down- When you lay hurt It might havobeento you not tell me what you thought of then? Regina'd No Mabel Nothingt Reginald Nothing I can tell you of. Mabel Was all a mist and whirlwind like Out yonder when the northeast wind Is hight That I can fancy. But when sense came You thought of nothing you can tell mo of, Reginald; nothinat Reginald Nothing I can tell Any one least of all, women or men, Frank's wife tSat is to be, liable. Mabel And where Has Frank concealed her from all eyes hut ,you:s? You aio too sharp-sighted, Redgle. Reginald Did she not Ask me just now what If sho knew she must Have known the answer that I could not make It was not right or kind to asrt Mabel Not she. Reginald Mable! Mabel She's innocent, at least Reginald You mean t Mable I mean she Is not here. Nor any where But in the silliest dreamiest brain alive The blindest head cheating the trustiest heart That ever made a man untrustworthy. You did not 'dream or think of any old For love of death, For love of death It is that all things live. And all joys bring lorth sorrows. Sorrow and death Have need of life and love to prey upon Lest they too die as these do. What am I That I should Jive?, A thousand times it seems I have drawn this flasket out to look on It And dream of dyinjr, since first I seized it scoie, . And Arthur never missed It. Yet again Tho thought' strikes back and stabs me, what aro they. What aro they all, that they should live, and I Diet Arthur told mo, surely, that this death Was p.mgless swift and sort as when be times v We sink awy to sleep. ITslnltls, 1 will die praylns 'for pardon: God must sea I am no more fit to live than Is a bird Wounded to death: Mabel Indeed we did.- Is that a property You have kept aboutyout Anne Whatt wheret this anno, A something for a touch of cold I caught Last night I think at least It was last night. Arthur prescribed It for me. Mabel Let me taste, lam hoirse I am sure I must be hoarse to-day With, rattling ont allRedgle's rant mnoh more Than you did. Anne ho; you do not want it Mabel Anne! Anne' You cannot want It, Mabel. Mabel How clri" you Kno .v? Don't be positive and selfish. Anne There , Take It. "No do not taste It, Mabel. Mabel Look, Redgie, how strange a pretty color! Why, One wants a name to praise it and It smells Like mile3 on miles of almond blossom, all Condensed Jn one full flower. If this had been The poison Anno and vouproparod for me, I renlly would haVo taken it last night And not pretended, as I did, to sip, And kent mv IIds (lrv. fDrfnt.. R"ainald Does the flavor match The colort Mabel It's a sweet sti-ange taste. Don't you Try: you Won't like it. Reginald Let ine know, at least IDrlnk: Anne Yon do not yet: or do yon now knowt Mthel Anne! What have we done and yout What Is lit Anne Death, Mabel. You see, you would not let me die And leavo you living; Mabel Dentil! She, Is mad she Is mad! Reginald, nelp us her and me but her First. Regimldl can hardly help myself to stand. Sit yon don n by me. AnntCtm the sun still shlnet I did not mean to murder you. Mabel An d y e t We ai e dying, are we not dyln3t Anne I meant 1 o die, and never sin azaln or see How happy past all dreams of happiness You. whom he loved, and he, who loved you, wore. rWjUTTET TOR TITE DISPATCH. 1 Thestorage battery is slowly, but surely, asserting itself. A recent electrical inven tion is a portable storage cell, which is de livered, charged, by the company owning it, at any house in the city, and called for at s given time for recharging, a charged cell being left in its place. The average cost for horse power used will be a little higher, but no extra expense for labor is incurred. Th storage cell, either provided charged or fed from the dynamo of the user, is now em ployed for innumerable purposes where an extra supply is needed, in factories, stores and warehouses, office buildings, theaters and public halls, hotels and apartment nouses ana electric light stations. A coun try house provided with a small engine may have electricity stored for evenineuse while water is being pumped into the tank or feed cut for the stable. Any intelligent man employed about the grounds can Ieam to do all that is necessary in the charging and management of the battery. Physicians and surgeons find the storage cell invaluable, as it is found powerful and reliable in the heaviest cautery work. It is superseding steam and naphtha for pleasure boats in Europe, and there are signs that it will soon come into extensive use for the same purpose in this country. The problem ol using stored electricity for traction work seems every year to ba drawing nearer to solution. An installation has just been made in Wurtembnrg which. Irerman engineers believe is destined at no distant date to remove the distrust which, obtains against storage battery traction and prove the commercial practicability of the system on a large scale. The line is two and half miles, long, and the locomotive is arranged both to haul a wagon and to carry passengers and light goods inside. The seats lor passengers are on either side of the wagon, and under the seats are arranged the storage batteries which energize tho motor. The cells are of the Oerlikon type, with a gelatinous electrolyte. They num ber 100,- and weigh two tons, the total weight of the locomotive being eight tons. The line upon which the wagon runs is of normal gauge, with very light gradients. A fully loaded goods wagon containing 20 tons can be hauled the full length of the lino in 20 minutes, and the battery is handled by one of tbe machine attendants without ths supervision of an electrical engineer. That this can be safely and efficiently accom plished is attributed to the use of the gela tinous electrolyte in the cells, which is claimed to insure a greater working safety than the usual fluid electrolyte. An interesting evidence of the impor tance attached in Europe to developments in this field is the fact that a leading Italian electrical paper has offered a prize of 400 for the best primary battery fulfilling cer tain conditions. The competition closes at the end of August BABY'S EEC0KD FOB AH H0UB. Advances In Electric Traction. 7 There are now in America over 450 electrio roads, using 10,000 motors, and repre senting an investment of 75,000,000, and the efficiency of the electric locomotive is increasing with its adoption. Barely a year ago a leading metropolitan paper ex pressed a doubt as to whether it was pos sible to produce an electro-motor that would draw a train of cars at a speed of 20 miles an hour. At a meeting of the Kew . York Rapid Transit Commission l&st-week: the question of an underground electrio road for the city was considered, and the representatives of a well-known electrio company stated their readiness to submit a guaranteed bid for the construction of motors within ten days from the time it should be notified that they were wanted, and furthermore that snch motors would weigh GO tons and be capable of drawing 40 cars of the ordinary elevated road type at a, speed of 60 miles an hour without" danger ot burning out or other trouble. Yours how conlcTshe be worfhTtr DTBTybu not Bee, ns you lay know, as your pain sank down And died and left yon yet not quite asleep How past all words she loved yout Bee- innld! You did nott Reginald How should I have dreamed of heavent I'm not a saint, Mabel. Mabel And what am I Who ask a man what, being tho man ha Is, He will not ask me and am not ashamed. Reginald You nio more than ever a man whom heaven loved best Saw shining out of heaven in dreams more dear, Moio wonderful than angels. How you can Care for me really and truly care for me, It beats my wits to guess. juaoei its very stianj-e. Of course: what Is thero In vou to be lovedt Reginald There's many a true word said in Jest. But you! Why, all the world might fall down atyour lect And vou not find a man In all the world Worth reaching out your hand to raise. And I! The best luck never finds the best man out. They sny; but no man living could de serve This. Mabel Well, you always were thebest to me; The brightest, bravest, Kindest boy you wcro That ever let a girl misuso him make ills loving sense of honor, courage, faith. Devotion, rods to whip him literally. You know and never by one word or look Protested. You w ere born a hero, sir. Deny it, and tell a louder lie tbnn when You used to take my faults upon you. now I lovedyou then, and always! Now, at last, You see you make mo tell It: which is not As kind as might be, or as then yon were. Reainald I nev er was or could bo fit for you To glance on or to tread on. You, whose face Was always all the light of all the world Tome tho sun of suns, tho flowerof flow ers The wonder of all wonders and your smile The light that lit the dawn up, and your voice A charm that might have thrilled and still ed the sea You, to put out that heavenly hand of yours And lilt up me in ueaveu, uuuvu an stars But those God gave you for your eyes on earth That all might know His angel! Here is the dialogue between Mabel and Anne after the latter has learned the truth: Anne I'm sure I cannot tell you, Mabel. All your thoughts Are flower?, you say, and flowors as sweet as these Whoso perfume makes the rose's coarse and dull: And how then could I tell you how to thank Godt Ho has given yon something thnurht or truth. If truxh and thought are not the same which I Cannot, you know, Imagine. Mabel Ah, you will Some dsy, and soon you must and will. Anne I doubt That Can tho world supply me, do you think, , , With such another Redgiet Mabel 1. hat's not fair. Anne I must put up with sometblngsecond- Frank, for example If he'd have met No, Dear Mabel: be content with happiness; And do not dream It gives you power to P'ar . Providence, or a prophet Is he not Waiting for you there, by the hawthorns thore And, certainly, not wanting met Jlfa&eJ-He is! 1 told him not to come and wait forme. A Bacholor Uncle Hakes a List of Ills Nephew's Little Escapades. Chicago Iuter-Occan.l Mr. T. Dumley Ragor is the good-natured bachelor of the family, and uncle to the child, and was left in narge of the baby while everyone else wasaway. Out of curi osity he made a list of what the baby did in one hour: 1, yelled 15 minutes without tak ing breath; 2, pulled enough hair from his uncles hair and whiskers to stuft a sofa pil low; 3, further decorated the wall paper as high as he could reach with the poker; 4, broke a glass vase by sitting down on it; 5, swallowed six buttons and a good part of a skein of thread; 6, emptied the contents of his mother's workbasket into the fireplace; 7, tried to squeeze the head of the cat into a cup, and was badly scratched in the at tempt; , KnocKea tne neaa on: a hue wax doll belonging to hjs sister by trying to drive a tack into a' toy wagon with it: 9. fell off the edge of the sola, and brought down two costly vases, which were ruined; 10, broke two panes of glass with a stick his uncle let him have; 11, fell into coal scuttle and spoiled his white dress, 12, set fire to carpet while uncle was out of the room hunting up somthing to amuse him; 13, crawled under the sofa, and would not come out unless uncle gave him the jampot; 14, got twisted among the legs of a chair, which had to be broken to get him out; 15, poured a jug of 'milk into his mother's slippers; 16, finally, when he saw his mother coming, he ran to the door and tumbled off" thj steps, making his nose bleed and traring a hole a foot square in his dress. And still the youngster's uncle thinks that the boy will make something yet The Electric, Light In Mining. A, great improvement is recorded in ths eyesight of misers, who by the use of the electric light have been saved from the usual visual strain. The ordinary safety lamp has been found to be responsible for the great prevalence of eye diseases, such as nystagmus, night blindness, etc, and these no longer obtain where the portable, electric lamps designed especially for min ing work are employed. In these the light fiving body is highly protected, very little eat and neither smell nor smoke is pro duced. The air is thus nnvitiated by nox ious fumes, and a common source of danger, the temptation to trim the light or to light pipes by it, is removed. Poisoning by Electricity. The attention of electricians is drawn to a singular incident which occurred in Ber lin. Ait electrical workman in testing his cells to see ii the current was flowing was in the habit of putting the two ends of the wires in his month. He gradually absorbed so much of the soluble salts of copper from,' the wires as to cause his death. The gal vanometer is now substituted in the Berlin workshop for the rough and ready test for merly employed, the danger of which was not before realized. Electric, Quackery. A despicable trading on the popular faith in the virtue of electricity is recorded in the English electrical papers. In the window of a store in Fleet street, London, is exhib ited a pair of shoes labeled "electro-force shoes." These shoes are slowly revolved by clockwork, and their gyrations cause er ratic movements on two large magnets placed near them. The window is constant ly surrounded by a gaping crowd, gazing at the "greatest invention of the age." The public are requested to step inside and re ceive a pamphlet explanatory of the phe nomenon. Thp pamphlet starts off by say ing that "electricity, magnetism and odie force are the mighty forces of nature now employed in so many ways for the benefit of mankind." These shoes are charged with odic magnetism and are patronized, "of course," by members of royal families. Odic force' is continuous in its action and passes through any known substance as demonstrated by its action on a balanced magnetic needle. This odic force "cures tendcrfeet,cramp,. chilblains and even bron chitis, and the cieetro-force shoes soothe the nerves and renew brain nower." The mag net which is concealed in the sole affects the needle, and thence the eye and the pocket of the'purehascr, and that is all. "Odio magnetism" or "odic force" is an unmean ing term, and is simply part of a quack at tempt to promise cures under guise of plausible names. What is more refreshing than a good night's sleept But yon can't sleep In a bed full of bedbugs. Bugine will clean them out effectually. ,25 cents at all dealers. Gibraiu. AwNisos Don't fail to see them If you want awninars. At llamaux Son's, 639 Penn avenue. 'Tel. 1872. Thau .Electric Test for Spurious Coins. Some interesting tests with alternating currents and a particular form of magnet have been made in England. Among the experiments shown was one which illus trated a new method of detecting counter feit coins. The method of a genuine coin, being a good conductor, was held between the poles of the magnet, bnt a bad coin, not possessing that necessary qualification, im mediately dropped when placed in position. Tempering; Gun Springs by Electricity. The electric current is now used in a French gun factory for tempering gun springs. The springs consist of steel wire, wound spirally, and when they have been, brought to a high temperature by the passage of the current the circuit is broken and thev are dropped into a trough of water. It is stated that by this method a workman can temper 2,400 springs a day. SicitiAX A wsisos. perfectly sun fast, at Mamaux & Son's, 339 Penn avenue. Thsu I i i i i: HI : a Vwilm i1 41 MffmiiSi' A i (m TiWr Tl It l ' ' aMEtafe- l TV. J mi mvjw a ' WORTH A GUINEA A BOX." JLhKDQf BEECHAM'S - mi t a . TILLS MnltHstM l&mlhr medl- ciaacactt. Biek Bead. ache. Weak'. Btomath. Zom of Ap petite. Wind, and Pain int thtStxrmaeh, 'j iff v uiauttKff. i J Fiillncm,8iceaino aftrmeaU,Diines$. '...., W.M..WWM, sniwfl, UfllKIKIf, 1 1 CJ.IWK.I on in OHM. ItllHirtl Kbn ' and all ncrmus and tn-nthll muo. i1., . , j . "j- -v. -r ( ..tr.j wn rcMnTsa vy tuing utete jrtus torerea witn a iitMinianrf SntoM rnita. I. .If ., .- M-( . 2 New York Depot, ses Canal at itt0?P..;'sVsMl 4 . , .' 'jr'tfflf- '- A . ; . -a.yJim'S- t'-J. -, ? i. - -.!a-fcte ,.iAti&i. &ns ... 1.HUU. -rSlt dtsm ..rfattrtHtatiK 'iffrft-affiili'Tii- 'J-'" Atfy- Jii&l iAm.' .a. 4feiTiwiu , li.- L -, TV
Significant historical Pennsylvania newspapers