rfllT. f' V
THE SORANTON TRIBUNE-TUESDAY MORNING, JULY 0, 1897.
-
Ok pne Reading Circk
!
Tl TALE OF A REJECTED MANUSCRIPT. X
I.en Grove, In (ho Buffalo News.
"Wo all lmvo our troubles,' said
the rejected MS. ns It lay on the ed
itor's desk, and Muttered its leaves
With the aid of a gentle hieeze, that
was blowing In through the open win
(low. "Wliats' that, whnt do you say?" In
quired the small English paper cut
ter, awakening from a sound slum
ber, and falling over against the Ink
stand with a tiny crash. "I beg your
pardon, wcie you speaking to me?"
"I was saying that we all have our
little troubles."
"Oh, yes, to be sure, quite sure," re
turned the paper cutter.
"I've had my share," continued the
rejected MS. "Hut though I urn a very
much despised thing, have traveled
considerable, and seen a great deal of
the world."
"I dare say you have," the paper
cutter replied. I can easily Imagine
thnt you have."
"I have visited nearly all the prin
cipal cities from Uoston to Denver, ns
far north as Duluth, and south as far
ns New Oi leans. And though I have
never been printed, I have been reud
by some of the most noted
editors of the age. I have had a num
ber of queer experience, too; by the
way, do you recollect that holdup on
the Q. & C. a short time ago?"
"I do very well," answered the paper
cutter.
"It has always been a mystery how
the robbers obtained access to the ex
press car without damaging the car
In the least. Hut blets you, It was easy
enough. 1 could have explained It all.
for 1 wns there and saw the whole
transaction."
"How Interesting." remarked the pa
per cutter, and all the different arti
cles that littered the editor's desk mur
niered, "How very Intel eating."
"The messenger was In league with
the robbeis," said the i ejected MS. "It
was r combination mall and express
car. AVe had Just stopped a little while
before, nt a small station, where an
other mall bag was taken on. I was on
my way home ftom New Orleans at
the time, ami wns being sorted, with
a lot of other through mall for the
east The mall cleik was busy with
the letteis nnd I saw th express mes
senger o:rn th end door nnd admit
two masked men. They bound thi
messenger hand nnd foot. Just for ap
pearance's sake, and then made short
work of the inn'l rlerk. I was very
much frightened, I can tell you, for I
never expected to see home again; but
the mull was not dlstuthed. It was a
very startling oxpeilenee, though."
"I should think It wns a startling ex
perience," said the paper cutter, ex
citedly, while fiom nil the other ar
ticles came a chorus, "I should think
bo. I should think so. Indeed."
The rejected MS. was In t reminis
cent mood. "I shall never forget when
I was wiltten," It snld, retleetlvely. "It
was about live months ngo. My author
Is a veiv nice woma. with two beau
tiful clflldieii. I learned afterwards
that she had married quite young, nnd
not very happily. 'Her husband died
about a year ago, leaving her w Ith only
a thousand or so to live on. This would
not last Ion;,', so she set about to eain
more in onler to supprt herself and
chlldt en.
"As she was of a literary turn, she
decided to wilte. It was her llrst effort,
and such pulns as she took with me.
I was wiltten and rewritten, erased,
and scratched out, until I begaT to
think that I should never be llnlshed.
I hae known her to set up half the
night, writing one of my page., half
a dozen times, wlillo she held the
youngest child In her aims most of the
time. Such patience as she possessed.
And even after I was wiltten to her
satisfaction I wa.i gone over carefully,
nil my "l's" dotted, my "t's" crossed,
the tops of my "n's" Joined together,
and my "o's" rounded out, until I look
ed very beautiful, Indeed. She was
very pioud of me, too, and looked nt
me fifty times a dav. At last she pro
cured a laige envelope, and tying mo
up with n pretty, pink ribbon, I was
placed therein, and after Inclosing the
neeessaiy stamps, for my teturn in
case I was not used, the envelope waj
sealed and addiessed to Charles A.
Dana of the New York Sun.
"Of couise, I felt no little trepida
tion at the piospeet of being presented
to this Kieat editor for the llrst time,
and I so young, too; but I had no
cause for uneasiness."
"No?" said the paper cutter Inquir
ingly. "No! Why, gracious mo! ho never
even saw me, let alone lead me. They
knew what I was the moment they laid
ejes on me, and I was sorted out of tlia
mall, with a numbiT of ethers of my
hind, and handed over to a young man,
whose business It was to tead us. And
I'll btay light here, that I veilly be
lieve that to that same young man I
owe all my subsequent misfortune.
"He wns out of sons that morning,
I could see that plainly. In the first
place he made fun of my pink rib
band. Then he swore nt me because
I was not typewritten; he skipped
through my pages like a race horse,
and missed some of my finest passages,
I was rejected, of course, and I firmly
believe that ho placed it secret mark
on ipe somewliete so that anyone who
read me would know thut I hnd been
presented for publication and hud been
rejected. 1 have grounds for my be
lief, too, for each and every editor
to whom I huvo been sent has in
variably made the same remaik: 'H'm
not the llrst appearance, by any
means,' or woids to that effect."
"How unfortunate," said the paper
IMPLY
FACES
Ptropki, blotches, blacLheada, red, rough, oily,
mothy alln, Itching, ecaly ecalp, dry, thin, and
falling hair, and baby blemlahci preu-nUd by
Cuticciu BoAP.the moat effective aUn purify.
lug and leautlf) log aoap In tho orld, ua well u
purustand awectcat for toilet, batb, and numcry.
(UtiCUM
1M Uireurhool tha world. Tomi D. Awn O. Coir.,
Colt l'niia , Bloq. oar llOwluIHaullfy tht Sklo.-flM
BU1QD HUMORS J&882?JS&&.
cutter feelingly. "How very unfortun
ate." "It wns. Indeed," the rejected MS.
went on. "But, the saddest time of all
my existence was on my return home
for the first time. I shall never forget
the look of disappointment that came
over my author's face when she re
ceived me with trembling hands from
the postman. She wept many bitter
tears over me, and then laid me away
In her bureau drawer and never looked
at me for over two weeks.
"I felt slighted, I can tell you."
"I should think so," said the paper
cutter, "I should think you would feel
slighted."
"But one day she was evidently In
better spirits, for there was a hopeful
look on her face ns she took me out of
the envelope and read mo through
again.
" 'It Is a good story,' she said, 'but
perhaps It was not Just what the Sun
wanted. I shall try the Herald,' and
so I was sent about, first to one paper,
then to another; and I wus ns regu
latly returned, enclosed with a brief
note saying, "Not available for this
paper, or 'Declined with thanks.' At
first she used to take on considerably,
but after a time she became hardened
to It and came to speculating ns what
stylo of printed rejection blanks each
paper would use. She gathered togeth
er quite Recollection of them after a
time, all sizes and colors; some print
ed, some typewritten, while others were
In the editor's own handwriting.
"I have Iteen on the road a'most con
tinuously ever since my first trip, but
this is to be my last. If I am rejected
today, I am to be destroyed, and the
wot Id will have missed one of the best
storks ever written. But I can't com
plain," said the i ejected MS. cheerfully.
"I've had my day. Of course my prin
cipal object In life has so far been a
failure, but It Is not my fault, and I
8hnll not worry about my end."
"You certainly have quite a varied
experience," said the paper cutter.
"But I am sure that your lot has been
preferable to mine. I have never left
this olllco since the day I entered It,
three yeais ago. It must he nice to
travel; I should ery much like to
travel around a bit myself."
"You should soon tire of It," said the
rejected MS. "and be glad to settle
down again, to feel that you have a
fixed purpose In life and that jou nro
accomplishing It."
Just then a step sounded outsldo the
door. It w j-s the editor returning from
his lunch. All the articles scampered
back to their former positions, while
the rejected MS. went on fluttering its
leaves quietly ns before.
The editor entered the room and seat
ing himself nt his desk look up his
work again where he had left off. Ho
wrote three editorials; one on the at
titude of the United States toward
Culu, one on the arbitration treaty
with Kngland, while the third per
tained to municipal, affairs, about two
columns nnd a half in all. He attended
to nil the multifarious duties that fall
to the lot of the editor of a great dally
besides losing about an hour In con
versation with one of the proprietors,
who hid just dropped In to give him .1
few ilnters ns to how the paper should
be run, after which he was obliged to
work all the harder in order to catch
up. But he wis used to It, and pre
scrvtd an even temper through It all.
The hours dragged sowiy by and still
he ked on, but nt last even the
edllc r's work for the day was finished,
nnd he made preparations to depart.
He arranged everything to his satis
faction and was about to close his
desk when his eye fell on the rejected
MS. He hestltatcd a moment, then
shoved It down Into his pocket, re
marking to himself:
"I don't suppose It amounts to much,
but I may as well take It home with
me and read It; there may be some
thing In it." after which he closed the
desk and locked It and departed. He
dined nt his favorite restaurant nnd
then strolled through the hotel corri
dors. Not meeting nnyone with whom
he cared to enter Into conversation, ha
sought his comfortable bachelor apart
ments and with a good cigar and his
easy chair he prepared to spend the
evening, very quietly nnd comfortably
alone.
Presently he took the manuscript
fiom his pocket and glanced through
Its pages.
"It has evidently traveled about
considerably,' he thought. "However,
It locks readable and may bo Just what
wo want." So he settled himself In his
chair and began Its perusal.
It wus a simple love story of evry
day life, quite well written, but very
commonplace. Telling the story of a
young and benutlful girl, a coquette,
and her two lovers. The girl had driv
en the somewhat slow going, but "true
as steel," lover from her side by her
coquettish ways, nnd had eventually
taken up with the more persistent, but
shallow admlier. It told of a few
years of unhappy married life, until
death had freed her from the bonds,
Her mind reverted to the lover whom
she had rejected, years before, and
whom she had dearly loved all the
time, but she knew not where he was
nnd the Btory closed with a very vague
understanding as to the future of the
woman In the case.
The editor read a few pages, without
evincing any especial Interest In the
story, until he came to a passage de
scribing the heroine, Dora Ames, as
sitting 'neath the shade of a wide
spreading oak, near the banks of a
gurgling brook. She was laughing
merrily while the before-mentioned
"true as steel" lover stood near by with
downcast eyes and very unhappy coun
tenance. He had Just proposed nnd
had been laughed at for his pains, And
now, as he said, he was leaving her
forever.
"You have scorned my love today,"
he said, "but I bear no malice toward
you. Though I am leaving you per
haps forever, my earnest wish Is that
you may be always happy. Good-bye,
Dora," and he was gone.
While reading these lines the editor's
face underwent a change; ho leaned
forward In his chair and read on with a
new Interest until the story was fin
ished. Then he read It again, his mind
dwelling on the lines quoted nbove.
"Can It be possible?" he murmured.
"Those are the very words. I remember1
distinctly. The place, too, Is described
accurately." Ho took up the letter that
had accompanied the manuscript and
examined closely the signature of the
author. Mrs. D. A. Brandon, 23 Elm
street, Irvlngton. Thernwwar. a narrow
strip of black around the fdge of the
note paper Indicating that the writer
was In mourntnr.
"Dora Atiwi Brandon,'' he repeaUd
slowly, "It must bo; It Is the same per
son. So she married Brandon, did she?
and Is evidently a widow now, Irvlng
ton, I had no Idea that she lived so
near." lie leaned back In his chnlr
again nnd smoked, and gazed at the
celling. In fancy he was again a youth
and was standing 'neath the old onk
tree, near the gurgling brook, saying
farewell to the only woman ho ever
loved, and she had mocked him. He
had left her with a heavy heart, nnd
though he had made his way In the
world and had much to divert his mind,
he had never forgotten that parting;
he had ever been true to the memory
of the love that was not for him.
The next day but one wns Sunday.
The morning dawned cool nnd bright.
The editor nrose and dressing himself
with especial care, placed the manu
script In his pocket and after partaking
of a light breakfast, he proceeded to
the railway station and purchased a
ticket for Irvlngton, where he arrived
an hour later. He Inquired the way to
Elm street nnd It was pointed out to
him; he had little dllllculty In -finding
the right number. It was a modest lit
tle cottage, and a very old-fashioned
street. A little girl was playing In
the dooryard as he stopped at the gate,
"Does Mrs. Brandon live here?" he
enquired.
"Yes, sir," the girl replied, "Mrs.
Brandon Is my mamma."
"Will you give this card to your
mamma, and tell her the gentleman
would like to see her?"
"Yes, sir," nnd she ran to do his bid
ding. In a moment she appeared at the
door. He would have known her any
where. The same face and form, older,
of course, and more matured, but still
the same. She did not recognize him
at once, nnd her eyes glanced fiom the
card to his face questlonlngly.
"I have called In reference to your
manuscript," he said calmly, at the
same time drawing It from his pocket.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, "my story;"
nnd then she stopped, her face Hushed
with excitement. "Do you think It will
do?" she asked timidly.
"It Is a verv good story, in fact, It
has appealed to me In a way er, well;
Mrs. Brandon, Is It possible thnt you do
not know me?" she glanced from his
face to the caul, and again read the In
scription: James A. Forbes,
Managing Editor,
The Globe.
The light of recognition broke over
her face, and she held out her hand to
him. He clasped It waimly. She had
never seen his name wiltten that way
before, or dreamed that It could be the
the same Arlle Forbes whom she had
known so well. She Invited him Into
the little' pallor and they were soon In
the midst of old recollections, talking
of people they both had known In the
little New England village they had
both called home.
The MS. was forgotten entirely, so
Interested were they. He had only In
tended to stay a little while, but the
time passed so quickly, so pleasantly,
that It wns tea time before they were
aware of the fact. So he remained for
tea. He made friends with the chil
dren, too, the one a bright lad of seven,
and the other, the girl, whom he had
seen at first, about five years old.
But at last train time came, the
last train, which ho must take, If he
would bo back to the city that night.
Ho stood on the vine-covered porch,
hat In hand, saying "good bye" reluct
antly, when Mrs. Brandon remarked:
"My story, I had forgotten It, do
you think It will do?" there was a
wealth of appeal In her eyes.
"Oh, yes; It will do very well In
deed, I shall edit it, of course," replied
the editor smiling. And it will do very
well, after the editor had rewritten it,
embellishing It a great deal, and add
ing a new scene at the close, where
the old lover came back to renew his
suit, "True ns steel," and ending the
story very happily.
"It was printed In due time, and a
marked copy sent to the author, ac
companied by a check for quite a tidy
sum from the manager of the Globe
Publishing company.
Mrs. Brandon was very much aston
ished when she saw the story in Its
revised form and ns she read the clos
ing chapter a soft flush mounted to her
brow and suffused her face and neck,
while her eyes assumed a faraway
expression of a happiness that she had
long dreamed of, a Joy that would yet
be hers.
The editor became a regular Sunday
visitor at the eottfig" on Elm street
lrom that time on as long as the pleas
ant weather lasted, and during the
merry Christmas week, while the bells
weie pealing out the glad tidings of
"Peace on earth good will toward
man," Mrs. Brandon became Mrs.
James Arlle Forbes and the editor be
came a commuter at once. They have
built up a very pleasant home In Ir
vlngton and Mrs. Forbes has never re
gretted sending her story to the Globe.
The original MS, Is tucked away in a
corner of the editor's desk. Ho would
not part with It for worlds. And so
ends the "Tale of a no longer despised
and rejected manuscript."
Love is the key
stone of a woman's
life. Her fondest
hopes rest upon this
tender emotion ; her
highest pride is in her
capacity to awaken
the love which makes
a nappy wile ; uer
noblest ambition is to
become a loved and
loving mother
Any weakness or
disease which inca
pacitates her to fulfill
the exalted function
of motherhood is the
saddest blight which
can come upon a wo
man's life.
-'But there is no tea.
son in nature why any
hindrances or de-
rangements of this kind should continue to
exist. Ninety-nine times in a hundred they
are completely overcome in a perfectly
natural arid scientific way by the use of Dr.
Pierce's Vavorite Prescription, which gives
healthy power and capacity to the special
organs; reinforces the nerve-centres and
makes natural, healthy motherhood possi
ble, safe and comparatively easy.
It makes the coming of baby almost free
from pain; gives strength and cheerfulness
to the mother, and constitutional vigor to
the child. It is the only medicine in the
world deviled for this one purpose by an
educated physician, a skilled and experi
enced specialist in this particular field of
practice.
" I cannot say enough In pralie of Dr. Pltrce'e
Favorite Prescription, aa It haa done me a world
of Rood, and haa, undoubtedly aavrd my life,"
writes lira, Florence Hunter, of Corley, Logan
Co., Ark. " I miscarried four times; could get no
medicine to do me any good. I concluded to try
the 'Favorite Prescription ' and after taking;
several bottlea of it I made my husband a present
of a fine girl. I thiuk It is the best medicine in
the world."
Dr. Pierce's Pleasant Pellets: One i a
laxative, two a mild cathartic
ia &S)
HOUSE RENTS IN LONDON
The Tribulations of a Tenant in the World's
Greatest City.
London Letter In the Sun.
"It always amuses me," said the
London householder to the Jubilee tour
ist from America, "to hear you New
Yorkers talk about your high rents and
And fault with the landlords. If your
rents are high, you get something In re
turn for your money; nnd as to land
lords, you don't know what a landlord
Is not a real one."
"But you tell me," the Jubilee tour
ist Interrupted, "that you pay 70 a
year rent for this house In a central
and very respectable part of London
a house four stories bight, with base
ment beneath. Such a house in a sim
ilar neighborhood In New York would
rent for at least $2,500 a year.
"No, It wouldn't," the Londoner re
torted. "Excuse me, but you are so
far wrong that I cannot help contra
dicting you. Such a house would not
rent at all In New York, unless It might
be peasemeal to poor families. I In
vestigated the rent question the Inst
time I was In your city and found thnt
your tenants have nothing to complain
of as compared with outs."
"The figures show for themselves,"
the Jubilee tourist Insisted." This house
would rent fpr $2,G0O a year In New
York; here you pay 70, or about $350 a
year for It. There Is no gainsaying
that."
SYSTEMS DIFFEnENT.
"And that Is precisely where a mis
take is generally mnde In comparing
New York nnd London rentals," the
Londoner answered. "The systems of
the two countries are so entirely dif
ferent that It Is hard to make a fair
comparison. When you pay your
$2,600 In New York thnt Is nil you have
to do. If anything goes wrqng with
the house you send for the landlord or
his agent. You have no more trouble
with the premises."
"And don't you do that here?" the
American asked. Ills experience in
London nt that tlmo was confined to
Euston Station and Northumberland
avenue and Trafalgar square.
"What, send for the landlord!" the
Londoner exclaimed. "Bless your
heart, we enjoy no such luxury In this
country. The landlord sends for us
sometimes, but we never send for him.
He would laugh at us, unless so much
presumption on our part threw him
Into a fit."
The 70 a year that I pay," he went
on, " Is only a small part of real rental.
I can hardly make that plain to you
without telling you 'how the land lies.'
as you say In America. The land, to
begin with, belongs to the Duke of
Westminster. It was leased to some
body many years ngo (by the present
duke's ancestors, of couise) for ninety
nine years not only the land that my
house stands on, but many acres be
sides. The holder under that lease we
call the ground landlord a term that
Is a little tantologlcal, to be sure, but
sanctioned by custom."
COMPLICATIONS.
"Then you rent from the ground
landlord?" the American asked.
"Not nt all. It Is a dozen times re
moved from the ground landlord be
fore the tenant of a single house ap
pears. The land was all open fields,
you understand, when the ground land
lord leased It. Then It was sublet In
small tracts to other tenants, who
built rows of houses upon it contrac
tors perhaps you would call them In
your country, or speculators. Then
each house was let separately to a
long-lease tenant, and let and let nnd
sublet a dozen times till we get down
to the present generation.
"Now we come to the actual present
day renting, as It affects me. I find a
house to Milt mo; the one, for Instance,
that I am living In, and hegln to nego
tiate. Not with tho duke of Westmin
ster, of course, nor with the ground
landlord, but with the agent of some
tenant many degrees removed from
them. That later landlord (who Is only
a tenant himself) has assumed all the
liabilities of the former tenants, and
If I rent from him, those liabilities de
scend upon mo. '
"Whnt liabilities? Ah, many more
than a tenant ought to bo burdened
with. To begin with, I cannot rent
the house for a single year, as you can
In New York, I must take It for seven,
fourteen or twenty-one years."
"Impossible!" tho American exclaim
ed. "Suppose you want to give It up
meanwhile?"
"I cannot give It up," the Londoner
continued, "but I always have the op
tion of subletting, providing I can find
a tenant. I-must take that risk. Then
my lease haa various little clauses In
it that you never find In an American
lease. For Instance: I bind myself to
keep tho house Insured for a certain
turn during my tenancy, and to pay
the premiums; to pay the taxes, tho
water rate, and keep the drains in or
der; to paint the house inside and out
once every three years, and to put It
In complete order to the satisfaction of
the agent at the end of my term.
And all repairs are to be made at my
cost."
TENANT PAYS TAXES.
"Tho taxes!" the American repeated;
"you don't mean to say that the ten
ant has to pay the taxes?"
"Precisely." the Londoner answered.
"You know I told you that In America
you don't know anything about land
lords. A landlord never has any taxes
to pay in this country except for the
premises he actually occupies. As long
as land Is unimproved and unproduc
tive there are no taxes on It. You may
own fifty thousand acres of land out In
the country, but If you get no rental
from It you pay no taxes. As soon
as It Is rented the tenant has tho
taxes to pay; so the landlord goes scot
free In any case.
"Putting the house In complete order
at the end of a lease Is a serious mat
ter, often Involving new doors and
windows, sometimes a new roof,
new drains, new plumbing, or what
not. It Is no unusual thing for
such repairs to cost several hundred
pounds, And that affects the value of
the house In case I want to sublet It.
I cannot get as much for It as I paid;
and the nearer tho end ofthe term,
the less it Is worth. If I rent the
house for seven years nnd stay In It
only four, I cannot get as large a rent
as I paid, because In three years more
the house must bo completely over
hauled, and the cost of that falls upon
the new tenant. For that reason peo
ple do not care to take up nearly ex
pired leases.
"But that Is not all. Tho houses are
old, and It Is two chances to one that
when I go to the agent ho tells me
'such and such alterations have been
ordered by the hoard or health, and
they must be made before the houso
can bo occupied. These Improvements
will cost X400, and you can have them
made at your. own expense and deduct
so many pounds a year from the rent
till your advance Is repaid."
"Suppose I do not care to advance
so much for altering another man's
house? Then I need not take the
house; that Is my only alternative.
Tho agent does not care whether I
take It or not, for If I do not, some one
else will. The landlord will not under
any circumstances spend any money on
his rentable property trust the Lon
don landlord for thnt. Why, even the
squares, which, nearly all belong to
some of our dukes, have to bo kept In
order by the occupants of the sur
rounding houses: Tnke Itusscll square,
for Instance, that belongs to the Duke
of Bedford. If you Tent one of his
houses on Kussell square, you have to
pay eight guineas a year for a key
and for your share of keeping the
squaro In order. The law guards all
those squnres very carefully for the
benefit, of course, of the landlords.
"I think I have made It plain enough
thnt It Is not 70 yearly rent I pay, but
almost enough more to bring my rental
up to New York prices. Bent, perhaps
an advance for repairs, insurance,
taxes, water rate, painting once In
three years, and general overhauling
at the end of my lease.
"Then," he continued, "there is an
other great objection to our system.
Suppose that I am a young man just
mnrrled, and I lease a house for twenty-one
years. My children grow up
there, nnd we nil become attached to
the place. But at the end of my term
very likely I must go, for the occupant
of a house does not always have the
first chance when a lease expires. And
as to buying, I might as well try to
buy the British museum. Our wealthy
dukes will not sell an Inch of London
land when they can help It.
"But why do you say that your
house would not rent In New York?"
tho Amorlcan asked. "It Is a fairly
good-looking house."
"Yes, It looks well enough on the out
side," the Londoner answered. "But It
Is a sort of 'whlted sepulchre, like all
the old town houses. A New York
house hunter would call It a mere shell.
There Is to be sure, a pipe to bring
water In from the street main, and an
other pipe to carry drainage to the
sewer, but that Is the extent of what
you call 'the modern Improvements.'
If I want hot water I must ring the
bell and have It cnrrled up from the
kitchen In n Jug. Bath? There Is no
bathroom unless I chose to put one in
nt my own expense, which I don't.
You sec these houses have no big cop
per boiler In thp kitchen like your New
Yoik houses. There Is only a little
squaie tank attached to the range for
heating water. So putting In a bath
Involves an entire change of plumbing
nnd considerable expense.
"Then there Is no system of heating
whatever beyond the open grate In
each room. Most Londoners aie used
to that, hut Americans complain ubout
It when they are here In winter, and
I think myself that It Is not enough for
the climate. Our weather Is not as
severe ns yours, but we have a great
many cold, wet days, when a whole
houso should be well heated. But how
are we to heat an entire house with
open grotes? The halls are always cold
In winter, and, of course, we do not
keep fires burning In. the unoccupied
rooms. We can go to bed In a warm
room If we wish, "but with our soft coal
the fire burns out in an hour or two,
and that is the end of the warmth.
I was often asked In New York how
we manage In case of sickness when a
warm sleeping room Is necessary. Well,
the fact is we don't manage at all, In
most eases. The London theory la
that a pei son who Is III enough to re
quire a warm room needs tho attend
ance of a nurse also, and tho nurse
can keep the flro going. But that Is
only a theory. There are times when
one Is sick enough to need warmth
without a nur3e.
TOUGH ON SEUVANTS.
"If you had a house In New York
like mine In London you would have to
do without servants, for your Ameri
can servants would not stand the labor
for a week. The fires are enough to
keep one servant busy. You see there
and no sleeping rooms on the ground
floor or drawing room floor. The near
est bedchambers are in what you would
call the third story, and If there are
many In the family the top-story rooms
must be occupied also. Do you know
what It means for a servant to carry
scuttles of coal from tho basement up
to the top stcry, keep the fires In order,
polish tho fireplace every day, and car
ry down the ashes? No American ser
vant would stand that, to say nothing
of the dally dusting and cleaning nec
esary In each room on account of dust
and smoke from the fire.
"Our old London houses are servant
klllera In every respect. The cilnlng
rocm Is Invnrlably the front rocm of
the ground floor, and Immediately be
neath It Is the kitchen. But there la
no such thing as a dumbwaiter; every
thing we eat must be carried up from
the kitchen on trays and the dishes
can led up and down. Then there is
the Knocker. You know how it Is with
a London houye; every five minutes
there Is a knock at tho door, and the
m&ld must climb the long basement
stairs to answer It. I always feel sor
ry for the poor maids; by bedtime
they are well fagged out.
"These objections, of course, do not
apply to tho more modern houses in
tho suburbs. There you can find as
mnny conveniences as you have Jn
New York bathrooms, hot and cold
water, dumbwaiters, everything but
electric lights and heating apparatus.
London Is very backward about using
the electric light; some of tho provin
cial towns, Indeed, have moro electric
lights than tho metropolis."
"And do you mean to tell me," the
American asked, "that If I should wish
to stay here for a year or two with
my family I could not rent a house for
less than seven years?"
"Many of tho suburban houses you
can rent for a single year," the Lon
doner answered. "Thousands of them
were built expressly for that purpose.
And you can always find a furnished
house to be let for a few months while
tho owner Is away. But when you want
one of the old houses right In town you
must take It on long lease.
"So, on the whole, I think the ten
ant In New York has very little to
complain of. If he had all tho worrl
ments of a. London tenant ho would
bo glad to pay almost any price to
shift them to the shoulders of tho landlord."
This is the Package'
remember it. It contains
eSSSr
Washing Powder
that cleans everything
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Largest package greatest economy.
THE N. K. FAIMUXK COMPAST,
Chicago, St,J)ul. New York, (
Boston, Philadelphia,
BARBOUR'S
1
425 LACKA. AVE.
ps
LOOK IN TUB POCKHTDOOK
nnd no mntter how small tbo sum available
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The Finest Line of
BELT
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Ever seen in Scranton. Silver
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silk.
May be found at
MERCEREAU & CONNELL'S,
AGENTS FOR REGINft MUSIC BOXES,
130 Wyoming Ave.
Peaches,
Cherries,
Pineapples,
Plums.
Also fancy home-grown
Strawberries.
t I PIERCE. PEI fii'L MARKET
I
rs
Lager
Beer
Brewery
Uetnufacturert) of the Celebrai4
CAPAClTYl
100,000 Barrels per Annum
LREVIVO
RESTORES VITALITY.
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THE QREAT 3Oth hay.
JPXUEfpo'oaEc xiarajvEEJxrsr
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leg back tba pink glow to pals cheek and ra
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and Conaumptlon. Inaltt on baTlng UK VIVO, M
other. It can be carried In teat pocket. Dr mall.
1.00 per package, or all for aJS.OO, with poal
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the money. OlroalarrrM. Addreaa
ROYAL MFDICINE CO.. B3 River SI.. CHICAGO. "V
For Sal by MATTUEW3 bHOti, Dru
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atm. m i i nun i
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m Hi Beer
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ut ujr. W4 A 7$ 'fcgsfc
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,.
HOTELS AND SUMMER UK
SORTS.
CRYSTAL LAKE, PA.
The opening of this famous resort un
tier new management will tako placo
early In June.
Situated In the southern corner of
Susquehanna county on the shores of
beautiful Crystal Lake, Pern Hall Is
one of the most attractive places In tho
State of Pennsylvania to spend a few
weeks during tho heated term.
Every facility l nffotdtd for tho en
tertainment of Its guest
BEST OF
Pure Mountain Air,
Beautiful Scenery,
Cuisina Unsurpassed,
the table being supplied from Fern Hall
farm.
Postal Telesraph and Long Distance
Telephone service In the hotel.
Tally-IIo coaches make two trips
dally from Caibondale.
Write for Terms, Etc., to
C. E. ATWOOD.
Crystal Lake, Dundaff, Pa.
SPRING HOUSE, Heart Lake, Pa.
U E. Crofut, Prop.
Strictly temperance, newly remodeled
and furrlshcd. Kino sioveb, larse lawn,
danclnc; pavilion, croquet grounds, etc.
lilcyclo boat, sail boats, 15 row boats,
fishing tackle, etc., free to guests. Tako
D., I & W. via Alford Station. Wrlto
for terms.
THE MATTHEW,
H02 Klrst Avenue, ASBUIIY PARK, N. J.
Near the lleach and Promenade.
All conveniences and comforts for per
manent and trarslent guests. Excellent
table, tho best beds, nnj mo3t approved,
sanitary eqi'lprrent.
For particulars, etc., address
a. W. MATTHEWS.
Owner and Jlnnager.
THE EVIURRAY HILL
MURRAY HILL PARK, '
THOUSAND ISLANDS,
The best located and best
furnished hotel on the St.
Lawrence river. Accommo
dations for 300 guests.
Opens June 25th, I897.
F. R. WHITE, Prop.
An eetabllthed Lotel under new management
0.3d thoroughly abreast of tho times. Vlaltora to
Kew York will find the Everett In the very heart
f the ahopptnn district, comcnlent to places of
amusement and reartlly arcesttble lrom all porta
ot the cltr. EUKOI'KAN 1'I.A.V.
WESIilSTEll HOTEL,
Cor. Sixteenth St. and Irving Place,
NEW YORK.
AMERICAN PLAN, $3.50 1'eif
Day and Upwards.
EUROPEAN PLAN, SI. 50 Per
Day and Upwards.
IE0. MURRAY, Proprietor.
The St. Denis
Broadway and l;leenth St.. New York.
Opp. drace Church. European Plan.
Rooms $1.00 a Day and Upward.
la a modest and unobtrusive way thore are
few better conducted tiotoli In tbo motroDolli
than the Ht. Denis. v
Tlio great popularity It has acquired Can
readily bo tracod to its unique location, lt
bomollke atmosphere, tha pacullar ezcelleno
of Us cuisine and service, and Its very moder
nto prices.
WILLIAM TAYLOR AND SON.
Have you a vacant room
in your house? A One
Cent - a - Word Tribune
Want" will quickly fill
it for you. Try one
tomorrow.
Wvm ' '
wm. h. dates. fpi&Crtvfi " - Ui DTt;