Evening Star Newspaper, June 4, 1884, Page 3

—,. THE BeZTARD < ROMANCE OF A DIVORCE, ‘The Story of Mira. Wacklin’s Marriage to Mir. Hedner in Bgooklyn. ANG OF PEGszV lected and ‘ew York World, June 2d. iage of Charles Q. Hedner and Mrs. acklin, of Brooklyn, has) reumstanees of an extra- | ordinary ¢ Owing to thes prominence of all the persons interested, the legal proceed- conducted with the greatest secre and the facts connected with tie wae of the ed yes Ephrats been annulled u ey were that when pd her first hus w alive and resid one . enlis rd trom hin d ly three months when it at ‘Startling developn ashorttime. He thea lo iny, who is e known vid be m information . and x her husband's death her child She then too! nee with her s and Ii 1 1873,when she re- the atten . Hedner, a well- idower with several led over a period heh time Mr. Hed- dren. ven months, daria, ner was fully informed 23 1 to mar their domestic ‘ars ago, when Macklin was. liv- Brooklyn su ros with a wife and j fa Investigation proved that a man named ich: kun dd live in Brooklyn, | stated, “0 that he left the city about he army. When testifying be- ¢. however, he swore that he had Hedner; that he was asi te word for “gui | man when he joined the army and that hem: | ried on urn for the first time, and 1h since been a ‘at of Brooklyn and made no | concealment of his se. Mrs. Hedner, when sworn, in the most solemn manner | on God to v Ss thi Macklin in her hfe, a ins. A DASHING FRENCH G Phe ‘ian who Captured Bacnigh so Quickly as to Astonwh Kis Com- mander. | | Never seen M Meolein is the Anna And that is the t xiven to Gen. upon as the 1 manded one of the bri- ¢ Tong pedition, rd i ah. The com Millot, came after him, mue A " t prised to find the y tal Before male that Negrier i ers to report pet Pen iee the fact to headquarters, Pat they did not sue- Be cved in nis Un t dd careful con- brigade. not hearing any news from Gen. X Millot sent Capt. de Vign of Raeninh. On and pa the Bi ed to fina | * nam. He ad- 1 to aid her in ng the case to a fies the Sout > hisher court, she coueluded to accept the de- vanced and saw ti French troops. | Wither He politely acked them if they would be good “Momas Mma enous to inform bit whem he could fad Gen, | TME OLD PRINTER. “ine Ms He slept st 4 sceten of Life Behind the Scenes in Viena a Newspaper Componing-Reom. Gen. Millot’s he: were finishing t “Bacninh Is tak bas been there Gen. eponde nd arrived at the officers — R.J. Burdette in Burlington Hawkeye. jer | “Slug Nine” learned his letters right from the | | boxes, and grew up and learned to set type in one of those mustanz offices where they keep | the type in a coffe on the floor. He wa he didn’t often rush, and he never for the fat on the hook,” but took whatever we with equal 1 a good na- whether it ¥ ora take blue fovis- r evening.” . and the corre- the honor to Gen. sym- bled in pone | one it is, PRETTY OCTOROONS, A Race Which is no Race—The Pecu- liar Position of Its women, D.M. Locke by”) in Toledo (0.) Blade. There is in New Orleans a race and distinct race which is no race. It has its one hand upon the whites and the other upon the blacks, and it occupies a position betwixt and between, be- longing to both audto neither. The whites re- fuse to acknowledse them, and they hold them- selves sofar above the blacks that they will not acknowledze no relationship with them. Like the bat, they gre neither bird noranimal, but occupy a position entirely distinct, and a very lonesome These are the octoroons, which In New Orieans means not only a person whose | blood is one-eighth negro, but all of that class who are almost white, but in whom negro blood is perceptivle. Down here they don't say negro blood—itis negro “'taiat.” They are not white enough for the white nor black enough for the negro. Thelr position, especially that of the women ofthe race, is very peculiar. No matter how white an octoroon girl may be, a white man may not marry her. She may be as beautiful as Venus. and uecomplished ‘In every possible ‘he sing like Pattiand paint like Rosa eur, but Ro While man would marry her and remain in New Orleans. It would be ostra- eism for her and for iim al She cou'd not be received in society, and he would find himself on the wrong side of the wall at once. The law is fixed and the barricade is impassable. Th ‘omen of this mixed race are wondronsly beautiful. Their complexions are dazzling white, with a shade of olive underneath the skin that shines througa, toning down the white to a shade of brown that is as beautiful in the matter of color as beautiful can be. Their teeth are marvels of whiteness and regularity. The figures are invariably perfect In their voluptu- ousness, and the whole woman Is as near phys- ical perfection as anything ever permitted on | this earth to the temptation of men. St. | Anthony would have stood but a poor chance had he undergone his temptation in New Orleans and had the arch enemy employed octorcon women to his fall. There is nothing in woman- hood more delizitful. The men among them | are In various employments and many of them have achieved successes. They have had ad- vantaxes above their half-brothers, who are darker tn color, for they are all necessarily the sons of white men, many of whom have for their mothers’ sake been libegal to them in the matter of education and means to commence life with after education was completed. ‘To understand this thestatus of the octoroon Woinaa must be understood. he cannot marry & white man, nor can a white man marry | ‘e cannot associate with the race with she is allied, for she has had opportunities far above them. She looks upon the “nigger” proper with even more contempt than does the pure white. Her contempt is tinged with bit- terness; for she cannot help thinking that, were | she without that one drop of negro blood, her beauty and acquirements weuld give her any place among women she might desire. But, while a white man cannot marry her, there is no law—human at least—that prevents lis living with her. As the poor girl cannot marry a white man, and will not marry a negro. she does what seems to her the next best thing, and the only thing she can do; she accepts the “protection” of a white lover and lives with him. The next thing is for the white lover to buy her a house and’ furnish It gor- geously, and make it really his home. He does class, nor is he ever seen with her on the street; but her house 1s really his home. She bears him children, and those children he educates and provides for, in many instances, better nize them.” The black blood in them bars that. When he is tired of his illegal flame it is the simplest thing in the world. ‘The house and its furnishings are hers, and whatever money he n her becomes hers in her own right; and the smiddle-axed woman whe has lost her beauty accepts the situation, lets the furnished rooms to single gentlemen, and lives in comfort of the ‘ked solid, A ROVAL ROSSEAN MAR POGESEY AGE. ter a while, 2 Nupt als of ¢ Gne and ring c w hard itis fora ] type. and ft rnb got bunt for the bello’ study the copy fully hard to r ing, when | i t for | d by, and is omn, | | united Victoriu’s place in the corps and the boys oi a morning paper. about the time the r and he ros sat down te se » dinner. cept enn when he came in, then they ti moked and sputter Vs two or three printers b ions of canphen | Kerosene ¢ of on the | put in gas; and now t no frem the ceiling and ca: vrs | glared into ther from hy his way home, a polic t.” and r di e, and people wanted to sleep. But | when he wanted to sleep, the rest of the world, | ed for whom he bad sat up all night to make a | morning paper, reared and era: iy rhis window, with cart an pus; Dla nb nd-organs ews-room | en the office | light lung | s old eyes and | If he s: the pai by Y princes and pri tions of the Remano yu Bt ple about tot Grand ic Duke x on | iY eese | ry Vind the Luth had been bles! howled with h bythe archbishop of Neve and even the shrieking newsboy, with a ghastly | led the happy ps sare ardered the sleep of the tired old his usual p or placed | printer ‘by yelling the name of his own paper. tie rinzs nd bride. Year after fear th an roared xt him to groom, & jh his wasn’t an afternoon paper; the sym i ve a blind lown the tube to h man put onthat dead man’ proof-readers. scrit) his work, on the 1 who duke ith rmine, nies. Print- | 1 pressinen and reporters | ad went, but he and he anctam filled ed, | 1 asain, and filled again | face night, and when the tin the ball and so | sing-room dre wily on, He hadrt thrown ina full ease, One of the boys, tired as himself—but | er is never too tired to be good-natared-— | walt 1, but the old 1 there w se to last | ugh his tak aldn't_ work | The type clicked In the si- nd by the old man said: in state guard, © the | any one ki . The eity < with D f all the | was always dai rd | when he was on the sclish | ati me what gentleman “called the foreman, who ously polished and polite point ef exploding with | r three days end the stai¥ of the Pre the marriag! they stopped to are precluded: fr ining In the festivities, So quietly. owing to the recent Weath of the Duke of ALL in with the bany. How Hard a “Pr Editor From the American Mr. George Augustus Sala has been telling the | ¢ what a hard lite the Journalist leads. Mr. | gets up at 8, has some toast and coffee and | Y apair of scissors. He clips papers till 10, and then answers letters until 1. Then be lu From 2 vntil 7 he writes editorials. Until 11 he | Fro: is free. From 11 until1a.m, he devotes the time to “sth solid stu ” What he does st and ccfiee come reurd again but the chances are he rly Paid? London | Works. carried the old man to the foreman’s long and laid him down reverently, and cov- face. They took the stick out of his hand, and read his last take: - %3.—The American barque Pligrim arblehead ina light gale, about old and unseaworthy, and this er last trip. Why They Decorate. the Low!ston (Me.) Journal. One of the Auburn school committee visited a jocl in the Barker Mill district Thursday. The scholars were answering a few closing | questions trom the visitors. “What Is the holl- day to-wertow?” was asked. “Decoration Da: was the reply Ina shout. “What do they have | Decoration Day fur?” To decorate the soldiers’ said several. “Why should they deco- soldiers’ graves any more than yours or Theré wasa long silence. One little fellow finally stuck upa hand in the further cor- ner of the room. The visitor asked him to speak. The boy said, “If you please, sir, L think it is because they are dead and we aint.” The visi- tor stopped his questionin, ee The End of a Would-be Mufideress, legram from Deckertown, N. J., May 31, ‘The woman Courtwright, who recently le an ineffectual attempt to poison her two children because, as she said, che wanted to get rid of them, was taken violently Hl last night, and died at 8 o'clock. To the neighbors she said the man she was living with had given her Paris green. Her youngest child will also die. ‘A coroner's Jury 18 now examining the case. The evidence against Berry, the man who lived with her, is damaging. The post-mortem from the London Tilus- and oc gets another raph for an editorial . So, taxing it t to make our for him. a nday Pistinction the B sim Vermont. om one of the pa: Village of Pownal was walking he saw a man, wit Sof the little to eburch, when of, digging In his eld with grief and < up to the fence, ‘Remember Six days thea his ec garden, look- ut me, then. 1 j the sume e that he was disturbing | { | cole t | all her life on the proceeds. It was for this that » entered into the arrangement to begin with, 1 its ending satisfies her. She aceumulates money, her children, who would pass for white ywherg except Mn the south, co elsewhere re their talent i and the igrate also, or New Orleans and go through ‘perience that their mother did be- fore then ee ee “Darkening the Hair.” Philadelphia Ledger. “Distress,” who writes about her-premature- ly whitening hair, has so much company—not in distress, but in numbers—that she has only to suit her costume to her new colors and remain as youthful, if not grow more youthrul, than be- fore. Precisely what the “powder” of a bygone fashion for the hair did for the women of 17768 and thelr charming followers at all Martha Washington tea parties since, the premature grayness of many American women now-a-days | is doing for them, in contrast to women ot other ionalities who keep their hair in its youthful coloring and have their faces show old. Thetace that Is deepening in its lines or losing its fresh- ness shows ali these signs of years or care much more plainly when it is framed in dark h | which is not nearly so kindly as the soft framing of gray or white. The young doctor or lawyer rejoices when he finds a silver lock asso much added capital Jn his business; and so some women find their beauty growing more brilliant with the at. first unwelcome change in thelr brown or. blac! es. In this country, at. least, the color of the hair {s nolonger'a sign of ‘years; and there are even fashions in gray hair; some protessing to find the blue-gray that’ black | hair occasionally changes, to bea more admi- rable tint fora flashing prunette than the soft brown ash color of the blonde. Dyes may be very injurious; the Philadelphia girls who have had brown hair bleached or dyed yel- low or red have generally had reason to repent ofit in head troubles or early paralysis, and there isadead look or unnatural brilliancy after such preparations which erally can be detected. The harmless preparations, so called, such as using aleaden comb, orabrown or black pomatum stick, only do their darkening work by soiling the hair. People who use other pomatums or oils must jud, lor themselves how much this fs an inconvenience. The effect of some climates and atmospheres upon some hair is so marked that people may in time come to have hair-breadth e: es from ing it, by a suide-book of pl rood for At the seaside most hair is strength- who have been losing it in town can ly submit to more vigorous combing than usual, while an ocean voyage or crossing the n is a positive grief to some people, nse of the rapid loosening of the strands r. In the dryer alr of the mountains, again, the hair will come out in quantities and seem to grow harsh. Some handsome gray-hoired dames never yenture to go near a sulphur spring, or take the baths, because it turns their hair toa greenish yellow, just as sulphur is the base of some hair “stains.” The nerve health of the body has certainly much to do with the brilliancy and health of the hair, but whether any kind of foods, nitrogenous of albuminous foods will improve or restore the isa pointthat has not yet been reached, zh it probably will be some day. What- ever improves the heaith, lends purily to the complezion—and this is of much more conse- quence to good looks or even beauty than the tint of the hair—will help “Distress,” and, if you are wise, you will let the color of your hair help you also to choose the prettiest colors to wear with it, and so secure to yourself at- os always, in good temper and good looks. ——___-e- ______ Bathing in Japan. In Japan every one, rich and poor, takes a dip at least once a day ina cauldron of hot water. The rich bathe before dinner and at bedtime. Their whole household dip in the same hot water. A bath, except at a thermal spring, isonly an immersion. Precedence is given to the elders when there are no visitors, then to the young people according to their age, next to maid servants and lastly to the women. Prefatory ablutions of teet and hands are performed in basins, and on_ getting out of the cauldron each bather gargles mouth and throat with cold aromatized water. In very hot weather they all fan each other’s bodies to dry them. meceety does not begin in Japan where beauty ends. Human beings who are as fat and shapeless as too prosperous quails do not mind being fanned. The nobility never went naked in the streets. But in their castles or shiros and their parks they did and do—formerly to be cool In hot weather, and now to economize their European and other garments. Hunch- backs and deformed persons are almost un- known. In a Japanese Eden the law of natural selection preval ————__.90—__ Comic Remark by Miss Lilac Cotillion. From Life. “Don’t you think ‘germans’ ‘are an awful bore?” asked young Pilkins, after a silence of ten minutes’ duration. ” sighed Miss Cotillion, with an oh-do-take-him-away look in her deep blue eyes. “Haye you been to many?” “T've, ah. led about sixte@n this winter,” answered Pilkins, in an off-hand bain “How appropriate,” said Miss Cotillion, drow- sily. “Just one for every year of your age;” and then there ensued another long, delicious Vm ocly diggin’ | showed Paris green in the system. Berry is shackled and in jail. pause, while the young man ag ihe his patent leather shoes, and the clock deliberately i counted eleven. hot take her to the theater or balls of his own | | than his legal offspring, but he may not recog- |- | organ or trained choir, sweet MOOSDE AND SANKEY. ‘The Influence of Their Work Upon the eligions English Peopic. From the London Telegraph. 5% > The persons who form thé bulk? of the Moody and Sankey congregation are perhaps, of all the People on this earth, those who lead the most absolutely dark and dreary lives as far as out- ward appeals to thelr segses are concerned. They are Protestants of the middier or humbler Classes, honest, God fearing quiet sober men andwomen. Ifchureh folk, they are asa rule evangelical, and their preachers seldom shine as orators. If Dissenters, their Little Bethels are plain, without ritual variety, without a good inging, or at- tractive service. Their tuyn of thought forbids the music hall or the theater; they rarely read novels; our climate and manners exclude pro- cessions; our architecture 1s gray; our streets grimy, and the skies above'them often dull. To people from whose lives, homes, and haunts | olor, music, movement, romance, brightness are thus excluded there are sud:enly presented | Opportunities of hearing areally stirring ora- tion, and hymns weil led and powerfully sup- ported. Thus the success of Messrs. Moody and | Sankey fs easily accounted for on the surface | alone. But there are other and deeper reasons. To many Englishmen of these classes theology is their only literature, and religious aspiration | the poetry of their tives. «They live in the past pictured by the Bible or in the future which it promises and the old English of its history and proplioey brings the flavor of antiquity into the modern prose of their daily life. It is curious enough that, while the ordinary Evangelicals find formidable rivals in the preaching, prayer. and song of the new missionaries, they should see another section assailing them from the opposite quarter. The Kitualists will not leave them alone. The eloquence of Mr. Moody, the melody of Mr. Sankey shine by contrast with their too often dry preaching and dull services, while the advanced Anglicans bring all the re- sources of art to bear against them on the other side. Images, symbols, emblems, pictures, color, incense, music, intonation ‘and song, varied vestments and elaborate ceremonies make achurch where the service is very “High” as attractive asatheater and picture gallery in one. Between the two extremes, the old Evan- gelicals, *‘content to dwell in decencies forever,” are certainly losing ground. The droning duet between parson and clerk, and the dull ugliness of the old fashioned chapel of dissent, alike tend to disappear. New lite is poured in at both ends to stir up the whole length and breadth of the national organization of religion. Se The Bedouin Vanderbilt. From the Chie-go Tribune, “Ah! There's a beauty.” A group of French: officers were gathered around a horse whose chestnut coat, glistening in the bright sunshine that beat. down fiercely upon an Algerian plain, seemed made of bur- nished gold. At his head stood a Bedouin, tall in stature, stout of lib, and with a proud, haughty bearing that plainly showed his noble ancestry. The man patted the nose of the beautiful animal with a slow, caressing motion, and ever and anon placed his swarthy face be- side the tapering muzzle of his pet and pride, whispering to the intelligent beast words which none of those who surrounded the pair could un- derstand. For a moment the group of officers stood there in silence. “You wish to sell your horse?” one of them asked at last. “Yes,” replied the Bedouin. ‘Allah is great, and my family suffer from hunger. There 18 nothing left which will bring us money and food except this horse—tye swiftest in our tribe. I love him better than my life; but to give my life would not bring the tood for which my children are crying, and Ahgaz must be sold.” “How these heathen adore their horses,” said an officer. ‘It isbréaking his heart to lose the beast.” “I will give you 10,000 sequins for him,” said one of the group. A tremor shook the Bedouin's frame. The sum mentioned was to him a princely fortune. It would not only save hisstarving family, but keep them in luxury all their live: “f will take your gold,” he said. The officer advanced and gaye him the money, but hardly had it touched his hand when the Bedouin flung the shining colns on the ground, ran to his horse, which stood looking at hi and flung his arms about the Intelligent cre: ture’s neck, “No!” he cried, ‘they shall not. have you, my Idol! Better death than separa- tion!” And jeaping on the back of Ahgaz was In an instant galloping away with the swiftness of the wind. “Hold!” erled one of the officers. “Youraffec- tion for your horse has won our sympathy and respect. Tell us your name, that we may ever remember it.” Turning on his horse the Bedouin shouted back in clarion tones: “William H. Vanderbilt.” —_—_+.. A Scrap of Paper Arouses a Town. From the Lewiston (Me.) Journal, May 8, They hadall sorts of rumors going on the street in relation to an attempt at burglary of a bank in one of the two cities Wednesday even- ing. A crowd was around the door and the lights were turned up while the people peered in at the windows. The cause of the trouble was the springing of a burglar alarm in the bank, The alarm rang shortly after 9 o'clock in the tel- ephone office and the police station. It rang its full length of time with brief interruptions. It roused all the vigilance of the law and the tele- phone. The ringing was plainly heard out doors. The result was the opening of the bank, the activity of the poliee,the crowd around the bank doors, and the final discovery of the joke of the burglar alarm. The contrivance 1s so arranged that the connection is made by means of a clock arrangement shortly atter 9 o'clock. The shut- ting of the door presses a button and completes acircult. A plece of paper became shut In the jamb of the door, preventing the complete shut- ting of the door and the pressing of the button, When the hour came for the making of the con- nection, the piece of paper had the same result as if the .door had been open, and the alarm went off. Lots of people had seen suspicious characters enough to crack all the banks in town, and none of them laid it to the most sus- picious thing of all, a piece of thin paper. —se. What Theodore Thomas Dislikes, ‘Washington Correspondence New York Tribune, Theodore Tomas has come and gone. His concerts in Baltimore and the one here were great successes, financially and artistically. Especially is this true ot the Wagner concert given here. The house was sold out half an hour after the tickets were put on sale, and there would have been no difficulty in selling double the number of seat’s if the size of the hall would have permitted it. Thomas ha@ not been here for several years, with the exception of a concert given last Christinas eve. I understand that he has a prejudice against the city, because there are people here—as there are everywhere, but here more than anywhere else. he thinks— who cannot, or will not, come toa concert at the proper time, and who insist upon entering the room while apiece is being performed. When he was here Jast he stopped the orchestra three times on this account. So-called leaders of society are sald to have offended in this re- spect more than ordinary people. The gossips point to the wife of an ex-Secretary of the Navy as one who brought down upon herself the in- dignation of all true lovers of music and others who still think it decent to be in time at ahouse to which you have been invited or at a public place where your late entrance can only create disappointment and annoyance. The lady in question is said to have given rise to muchcom- ment again by entering into a dispute with a doorkeeper at one of the Baltimore concerts, in whom, however, she found her match, as he neither allowed her to enter nor leave before the jaumbee then being performed had been finished. ——_____+e._______ Buskin’s Eccentricities. Mr. Ruskin is acurlosity. He'ts seldom to be seen anywhere. Even in his own beloved lake district he takes his walks in the gray of the morning or the dusk of the evening. He sel- dom goes into society. He loves the theater, and goes when he feels he can indulge himself with such recreation. Perhaps not fifty of these well-known people haye ever seen Mr. Ruskin before. He comes into the room in the midst of ahalf dozen gentlemen, not in the usual seemly fashion of the Engligh procession on such oc- casions. I saw him when he entered the room, but who was before him, behind him or beside himI could not now say, for they all came to- gether, and the distinguished scholar and critic was like the Master in the great picture of Ve- ronese, “The Marri of Cana.” He was “in ‘the midst thereof.” Ruskin is just 65 years old, and he looks and acts like a manof45. He is not more than 5 feet 5inches in height. In- deed, he is petite. His complexion originally, I should judge of what remains of a complexion, was fair, though now his face iy ey oe to his eyes is covered with an iron-gray i; the abundant hair fs unconyentionally long, and though he was , selaegocy neat and “trim,” his hair seemed to have had no Fecent speaking ac- quaintance with : brush. The aoe ead At low and retreating; the eyes gray sparkling— quizzing and mischievous, COLD HAM AND SAUSAGE, ‘Thats the Stuff for Athiectes, From the Hervard Hersld. In Dr. Sargent’s recent lecture on “What | Shall we eat to get strong?” hesaid inthe course | of his remarks: It has been customary to train | athletes on lean beet and mutton, but he thought this a mistake, as tissue-making food should be used in combination with these, and the diet | should be so changed as to meet the require- | ments of the organism of the person using it, for to establish one diet for all persons was | ridiculous. Beet alone is not superior to meal, beans, or other farinaceous food, and the size | of the muscles of a man Is not indicative of his | strength. Farinaceous food tones a man down, | and will tend to give him more endurance. 4 man who can strike a blow equal ty 400 pounds + would be called a strong man, but this strength | cannot be kept up for any length of time on ani- | mal food, as it comes from the Use of the brain, | for in oth ght of aman kinds of food. To reduce the wei; in training lean meat may do, but when he is down in weight he m go back to food con- taining more carbon, such 38 ham and sausages, which should always be eaten cold. Three years ago this would have been considered ridiculous by trainers, but fora diet for run- ning, walking and rowing, it has been found that saccharine food, with beef or mutton, is the best; tea, coffee, and alcchol. as well as con- diments, are objectionable; indeed, it is not the quantity of food a person eats that strengthens him, but the amount assimilatea and worked soos SS ‘The Grant Boys and Their Wives. From the New York Journal. Gen. Grant's three sons are all married. Col. | Frederick Dent Grant married Miss Honore, a beautiful and wealthy Chicago girl. They have been married several years and live at Morris- town, N. J., ina spacious house surrounded by well-kept grounds. On Tuesday evening last, the night before the failare ot the firm, Colonel and Mrs. Fred.Grant attended a reception where Mrs. Grant was noted for her exquisite costume and dlamondjewels. The next morning she wa3 almost penniless. ‘Ulysses S. Grant, jr., married some five years ago, in this city, Miss Chaffee. the only daughter of ex-Senator Jerome B. Chaffee. Miss Chaf- fee's mother died when she was yet a child, and she was brought up by her father’s sister. She was educated at various schools, but spent most of her school life at the Packer Institute, in Brookiyn. There she was much beloved by tne | other pupils, and was noted for her generosity. | Her father visited her frequently, and would leave her #50 or $100 each time. Then, of course, “the girls” were treated to all sorts of | good things, to new gloves and bonnets, and to | pounds of caramels. Miss Chaffee left Packer for Heidelberg, Germany, where she re- mained for some time. She speaks German fluently and is a good pianist. She passed three seasons in Washington, and although she was a great belle, yet she has never been entangled in the slightest flirtation. She and Ulysses met, and after a short and sweet courtship were | quietly married in this city. They have two | beautiful little children, and are at present re- Riding in west 58th street. Mrs. U. S. Grant, Jr., 18 new avout 24 years of age. She is of me- dium height and fair, although not a decided blonde. Her eyes area deep blue, shaded by long lashes, and her halra light brown, show- ing golden tints. She has a fresh complexion and her face is very winning in expression. She does not care at all for society, and gives her entire attention to her husband and children. On her marriage she recelyed her fortune of $400,000, which is all lost. Jesse Grant, the youngest son of the general, married a few years ago Miss Alice Chapman, of California, daughter of a bonanza king. She Is young and handsome and was reared inthe midst of every luxury. Her wedding trousseaun is said to have be the most costly ever owned by an American girl. They are residing at pres- ent at3 East 66th street, with Gen. and Mrs. Grant. Miss Chapman came into a large for- tune at her marriage, but how much of it has been saved jg not yet known. 2p Bog Trains in Idaho. From the San Francisco Chronicle. During the day of my arrival I saw a few men sweating under the labor of pulling two sacks of flour on a toboggan, and several dog trains. These dog trains are amusing, it not admirable, as a means of transporting freight. They are made up of Indian dogs, collies, mongrels, scrub yelpers, Newfoundlands and mastiffs, with now and then a bulldog. The driver goes behind and urges them on with snowballs, now and then finding it necessary to go forward and. make a lazy cur work up to his collar by giving him the bight of a packing rope. Poor brute! Probably it is his only bite of any kind for many hours. ‘asked one dog-team man what he fed to his dogs, and he said: “Tallow and Indian meal.” “Are they trained?” “No; we pick up all sorts of dogs and work eerie very soon by putting a good dog on the “Do they never balk” “No; dogs is the blankest fools in the world, while they is the sagaciousest animals. rae when them dogs near about pull their toe nails offcoming up a steep hill, they bark out their delight when I go up and pat them on the head and call them ‘good dogs.’ Horses nor no other animals won't be fed on such taffy. Why, these dogs will stand it to be cussed for miles pau ben be tickled to death at a pat on the head.” The merchants say the dog teams spoil goods like the mischief. They are all the time tipping them over and rolling them around. —_—__+e.__ Abbey and the Archmillionaires, New York Letter in Troy Times, It was expected that the stockholders of the Metropolitan, who had good mysic at Abbey's expense, would be first to come forward and pay large sums for the use of their own boxes at his benefit. The tickets for each box were sent to the box owner with the request that he should pay whatever he thought proper. Vanderbilt, as has been recorded, sent €4,000 at once, al- though he did not attend the opera half a dozen times and does not know one tune from an- other. After Vanderbilt's check, curiosity among the Abbey people was intense as to what the Astors and Goulds would send. Both fam- ilies had boxes, both were rich, and both were constant attendants atthe opera. They were expected to do at least as muchas Vanderbilt. At last, one morning two days before the bene- fit, the two envelopes arrived. Mr. Tillotson, Abbey's right-hand man, surrounded by an ex pectant group, opened the Astor note and gazed blankly at a $50 check, the regular subscription | price of a box. ‘The check was passed around as | a curiosity, and it wasresolved to keep the mat- ter from Abbey, who was sick in bed. Then | Gould’s envelope was opened. It was heavy— | not a good sign, tor a check for a million weighs | no more than a check for $50. Mr. Gould sent | back his tickets witha note saying that he should be out oftown on that evening, and therefore could not attend the benefit. ge io Case. From the Atlanta Constitution. “I see dey hab tu’ned Sam loose,” said one negro to another, “Yas, dey had to let ‘im go, ’kase no case could be made outen de charge.” “How wuz dat? Tell me all ‘bout it.” “Well, de way de trouble riz, awhite gemmen. seed Sam wid one ob his shirts on.” “Yas, an’ 'rested him fur stealin’, didn't dey?” “‘Dat’s hit; but w'en dey cum fer trile, de jedge ‘clared dat dar wa’n’t no groun’ fur de ‘plaint, arter he'd heard de tessimony ob Sam’s mud- der.” “What got him out?” “De simple fac’ dat Sam's mudder wuz washin’ fer the gemmen, an de jedge sed dat long ez de man wuz lucky 'nough to git his cloze on Sat’day he didn’t hab noroom to growl ’bout the vgsher- *oman’sfrenz an’ chillun w’arin’ *em de onal jedye got red the oth “Dat fe got sense,” answel e other, as they peat y +++ _____ Good Architecture, ‘Mrs. Van Rensselaer, in The Century. One general rule, moreover, may be laid down to guide our criticism. This is the rule that as a work of architecture is both very conspicuous and very long-lived, its aim should pe “to sat- isfy and not to startle.” The fact that a build- ing is “striking” is often held to prove it fine. But the best buildings are those which, whether striking or not,—oftener not, perhaps, at least in modern work,—will seem better and better as the days go by; will not grow oppressive or ag- gressive or impertinent, or tame, fiat, and Unintereetine, in proportion as they grow fam- il Evolution and Religion. A. 8. Packard, jr., in the N. ¥. Independent. The naturalist of these days, when so much light has been thrown upon the jaws of varia- tion and heredity by men of heayen-born genius, may be thankful that he was born in the days of evolutional philosophy, which has thrown, and is still to throw a flood of light upon what were before the dark ways of nature. And here let it be said that, so far from leading to agnostic- ism and materialism, there are now sufficient facts on record in blology and tology, which, if handled by a m ley or Butler, would: vindicate, by the strongest cumulative proof, the fact of the existence of a power ont- Tide pf nature, who has not only appointed the’ orbits of the ts, but laid out develop- mental paths from monad to man. DRAGGED DOWN BY RUM. The Story of a Tramp Who Once Re- faved a Nomination for Congress. THE GLASS OF WINE THAT WRECKED A PROMTS~ ING CAREER AND BROKE UP A HAPPY HOME. From the New York Herald. “Git out of here, you blank blanked tramp, or I'll pitch you ont of the window, blank b’ank you,” said the barkeeper of a Chatham square saloon to a poor specimen of humanity who was stealthily trying to ease his appetite with some musty cheese and crackers on the free lunch counter. } “Would you like a drink 2” said the reporter | to the man whom ing the very pictu: “That I would U8Tkis was tun saloon. The poc of whisky at ia famished creatu feet, which co free lunch pro shops. he saw a minute later look- of misery in Oliver street. 5 as, toa bowl of p tuted the ‘solid portion of a Jed in most the duwn-town rum SE OF RUM. en better days, sir, and rum has brought me down. {t is a disease with me, I fear, which cannot be cured this side of eternity. 1 am now in niy fortieth year, yet one foot is in the grave.” “But what's the use,” he said, after a pause, “to tell youwho lam ‘or what I've been. You wouldn't believe me. I've been able to get ram when I couldn't get bread. You see this scar on my jaw, don’t you? A bullet trom a confederate sharpshooter made that at Gettysburg, andcame | 80 near cutting my windpipe that I coulin't con- sider it ajoke by any means. This sear on my right hand was made by a eabre. I carrieda sword then and wore epaulettes on my shouider. Iset up my shingle in a law office in Denver, Col.. after the war, graduating under old Prof. Wedgewood at the Columbia night law school at , 5. T. Bartlett, Gainesville, Washington, paying for law lectures while a | 21,400 clerk’ in the War department. hail fellow well met in those days, and had $20,000 or 80.” ALMOST A CONGRESSMAN. “Well,” with a sigh, “I was ambitious, and asked fora foreign consulate, not being satis- fled with law, though I had a good practice for @ young man. Trefused, while chairman of a republican convention, to accept a nomination for Congress, as I felt a warm friendship for Colonel ——, who had been a delegate in the House from Colorado when a territory, and he promised to get me a foreign post. Tampico, Stettin and other places were too small for me, so I struck for the post of secretary of lezation to Constantinople. I had beena very temy fellow until | was twenty-three years of aze—in fact, during the carnage of war had not even tasted anything in the way ot rum stronger than cider. I remained about Washington a ear and a halt, and in the meantime was da: zled with the gayety of the capital. My asso- clates and friends were as numerous as butter- flies in a flower garden, and I began to like champagne. | spent in fifteen months in Wash- ington every dollar I had, and yet received no commission. One day a Senator informed me candidly that the Constantinople place had been promised toa Maryland chap, whose tather had made a fortune running the blockade and sym- pathizing with the rebels during the war. “The Secretary of State would not appoint you, be- cause on two or three occasions when you called tosee him he smelt whisky on your breath,’ I was told A RUINED HOME. “I was too proud and ambitious to accept a government clerkship again, so I went west and fell back on the law. But I neglected some of my clients, and ram got the master tor a yearor so. I struggled in the mines of Nevada, doing the law work of some of the claimants there. I fell In love with the daughter of an English miner and—unhappily for her—married her. The father idolized the girl, and set us up in lite in San Francisco. For four years I lived as happily as a prince, but for the life of me I couldn't give | updrink. ‘A beautiful child was given us, and one night ina drunken, maudlin condition, I woke up to find my wite and child zone—fled from me forever. I fled to England, but could find no trace of wife, child, or father-in-law in the great city of London. ’ Great God, what a hell on earth I've endured since! I worked for a time as a. common laborer in Chicago. I tried to reform, time and time again, but I saw most | of the professed christians were only arrant hypocrites. All my friends of former days turned their backs upon me, and st of them would not recognize me. of them would pass by on the other when they espied me. I couldn't even messenger’s place in any department at Wash- ington. I resorted to every device to obtain drink, except to steal. A thousand times have I thought of suicide, yet T never had the cour- age to attempt it. I've slept in hallways and the parks and in cheap lodzing houses for two years past; have been scorched in the sun and all but frozen to death in the sieet and snow storms, yet live. Sometimes I've put in a ton of coal for a quarter. or swept out the sawdust of a liquor saloon for a bite to eat and adrink. Iam beyond redemption as you see. There are thousands just like me. But for the accursed rheumatism, which has laid me up in the hospital for the past few months, I'd enlist as a private in the army or marine corps—and I once commanded a thousand brave fellows. ‘The noise and confusion of a battleficld would be music to my years now. Would I had left my bones on Gettysburg’s heights! “Oh, yes. I'ye tried often to get something to do in this city of late, but in nine cases out of ten I’ve been rebuffed. I asked for copying or anything to earn a living. Only yesterday 1 was turned out of half a dozen places where i was looking for work by the janitors. A MOTHER'S UNHEEDED WARNING. “You see me asTam. Yet I hayen’t lost all self-respect. I hafen’t any chum, and never yet went on the tomato-can racket, as they call it. 1 shun the main streets, and am ashamed to meet the gaze of a gentleman. The memory of my wife haunts me like a dreath, and the atfec- 75 tion she once bore for me keeps me from the | Hey Rivers, Foren lowest haunts of vice. Ah! the curse of rum. The first glass of- wine I ever took was handed me by the daughter of a justice of the United States Supreme Court who was a presidential candidate. The lady’s husband was a Goyernor and afterward a United States Senator. That one glass of wine has been my ruin. A sainted mother warned me when I was a child never to touch it. She died of a broken heart, for she had felt the curse ot rum. thousand miles from here, who fills the pulpit ot a leading church, and they tell me he ts one of the most eloquent of men. But T am too proud to let them know the truth. I have asked bread of some whose flesh is akin to mine, and they have given me a stone. The dark river may yet be my refuge, and if the fishes don’t eat my flesh possibly trom the Morgue I'll be taken | to a Potter's field. “Ah! but I'm a coward. I've talked too much. I deserve no sympathy. 1 ask for none. Goodby.” The reporter forced the man to accept a little change. “I thank yon, sir, but I would not have asked it.” said the tramp. “‘I feel there is no hope for me in this world or the next; but, as you bid me hope, I will try,” and he turned aside to brush away a tear. The miserable drunkard went one way, the reporter another. Did he startly directly for a beer saloon? No. The reporter saw the poor fellow enter a ten-cent lodging house. He had slept on the docks the night before. eee A MOB IN CONNECTICUT. Stoning the House of a Man Who Was Cruel to His Wife. A telegram to the New York Tribune from New London, June 2d, says: Manasseh Miner, of Mystic Bridge, is a retired gentleman farmer, who Owns a nice place near the James D. Fish homestead. Two years ago he married Miss ita Fish, of the Wequetequoc district. ft. if'that he has used her shamefully since, and lately turned his property into cash, locked his wite up in a room, and told her to be ready to leave at 9 o'clock that night for a cheaper home in Ponckateag. He would live with her no longer. This was on Saturday night. She pleaded with him on her knees, but he was in- exorable. Then she fled from the house. In the meantime Miner had made a division of the property to suit himself, and loaded what he called his wife's share on a truck. Before he could have the goods moved, thecit- izens held an indignation meeting an@ marched down on his premises. They took the chattels off the truck and stored them in a barn. After this there was quiet; but it was only a truce, for akout 10 p.m. between six and seven pete ons, many wearing masks, a} fore The Miner mansion with tar, feathers and white- wash brushes. They called on him to show him- selt, but the old man knew too much for that, and then the mob satisfied themselves with painting the door with tar, breaking every pane of glass in the house, and heaving everything they could lay hands on through the windows. Among the missiles with which the a meer ne assailed was ing hen, the miscreants followed t! with a fusilade It was ‘hen T have a brother, a | I have sisters | | who are well off, and who are doubtless now | thinking of my accursed fate. | 1 lwo Facts Axv Fror RES TRUTH STRONGER THAN SLANDER. THE RECORD OF THE PAST YEAR. A pertial listof the Hines above One Thousand Dol- lars, paid by The Louisiana State L ang the yea: and with the names by the holders, diem Ktve ING OF JUNE 22. 1883, Treme st.. New Orleans, La Fayctteviile st_.Badeig bookkeeper Stats National Orleans, for account Bank of Memphis, Tenn. i ‘ FM. v ». Cal . Texas, Washington Co, Ky, ‘h First National Bau Spring! 4 17th Infantry, Fort Lin- Opera saloon, Cairo, Mb c Cairo Divisk . Wabash, . R, Carmi, Ts... ils Chas. D. Th Theodore Vi on, Toronto, Ont. rt, 423 N. Clark xt., Chicas th wt., Philadel Pa... in, 3 Chambers st., New York city, collected through Germania Bank, New York — 1,200 DRAWING OF AUGUST 14, 1883, L. Silverman, 93 Dearborn st., Chicazo, Tis. 15,000 W. T. Muse, Rocky Mount, N.C. 15,000 Rev. Moses Zorovich, 544g S, Canal st Is. be eno Jack Graves, Stockell Euxine, No. 4, N Teun . Chico, sesese 15,600 _ 10,000 Gustave Beuman, Preble Machine Works, 38 and 40 W. Monroe rt. Chicago, His 5,000 ‘Messrs. Sum Selig and J. M. Littl hale, 2,400 1,200 1.200 DRAWING OF SEPTEMBER 11, 1883. Mrs. Martha Livingston, Morgan City, La. J. W. Rabe, cor. Marign: Orleans, La Chas. L. May Market st., Chicazo, 1 2,400 W.C. Merrill, Albert Loa, Minn 2.000 A. Miller, mont at., Boste 2,000 . F. Wildesiun, Round Valley, Cal 2,200 e_ DRAWING OF OCTOBER L. A Mayer, for Mrs. M. P. Hayes City... seen 15,000 Thos. Matterfuce, New York City .- 15,000 H.C. Richardson, collected throush JR. Dick & Co., Meaivitie, Pa, 5.00 Mrs. L. Woolery, Philadelphia, Pa 5,000 M. C. Mitchell, Dc 5,000 M. Flack, Hop! . 2.000 Wm. Lowery, 124 W. Madi 2.000 J. Medding, Washin a J.G. Turner, cor. Com jeans, La 1,200 ‘OVEMBER 13, 1883, 50 St. Louis street, New Or- is La. der, through Lock DRAWING OF DECEMBER 18, 1883, Keyes Paige, care I. D, Alexandre & York, DRAWING OF JANUARY 16, 1894. Henry Mimk, 2 Bells Grayson Cy wan, 102 G. Cohn & Feibel da 4. A. Solari, 64 Royal s IL R Hicks, Morganton, N.C Bank of Asheville, Asheville, R. Frank Dodge, P.O. Box —— —-—- Weshingten, D. DRAWING OF MARCH 11, 1884. n West Milwa! » Milwankeo, W Columbus, St. Paul 1 G, Goldsmith, Willi Trost, John Marteli Frederick Masten, IL 9, 2824, delphia, Pa,, ‘Norman Saunders. Vi 2.000 Osgar Swe 2,000 Robt, J. Walk 2.009 1,200 James Fo: 1.200 ©. T. Deshields, SI 1,200 H. G. Tremborg, 558 N, 1.290 Paid First National Bank, Colum)us, Ind. 8, Newman, 150 Neary st, New York..... For full particulars of the Grand Semi-Annual Drawing of the 17th inst. see scheme in snother cclamm of this paper to day. it Srecuz Nouce JRESPECTFULLY CALL THE ATTENTION OF ARCHITECTS AND THOSE CONTEMPLATING MY STOCK OF FIRST-CLASS LARLY CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO THE WROUGHT IRON FURNACES FROM THE WELL- KNOWN FACTORY OF REYNOLDS & SON, WHICH 1 CONSIDER AS GOOD IF NOT SUPERIOR TO STEAM HEATING AT ONE HUNDRED PER CENT CHEAPER IN COST, WOULD ALSO CALL YOUR ATTENTION TO THE WELL-KNOWN FIREPLACE HEATERS, FROM THE FACTORY OF JAMES SPEAR, FOR BEATING TWO Ok MORE ROOMS ABOVE. FOR ECONOMY AND HEATING QUALITY THEY HAVE NO EQUAL, THFSE HEATERS AND FURNACES ARE BEING USED EXTENSIVELY IN SOME OF THE FINEST HOUSES IN THE CITY, WHICH WE TAKE GREAT PLEASURE IN RUTER: RING TO. A CALL IS SOLICITED AND ESTL MATES PROMPTLY FULNISHED. WALTER D. WYVILL, Excrostyn Aor=t, 878 No. 452 PA, AVE. NEAR 4 STRES" ITUTE FOR LINENS, Gee steno: Price. @1.60, $1.75, €2. 92.59, oy's Sailor Fults. Reson on Black Ap ba. Office Coste trom pel Suits, real it fe oh RU slong Sia Vita aalioad ein ta at SELBY, ay 2014-3926 Pansy lyeniaayene, ingle Panis, bi $4. The cats, wt $1