Evening Star Newspaper, November 23, 1889, Page 7

ie aed THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C., SATURDAY, XOVEMBE (Copyrighted 1889. Written for the Evewme Sram.) (contINvED.) “As we were walking to the station, as the Dusiness to be attended to was out of town. this man, whose name is James Barlow, talked to me in such a way that I began to suspect that he intended to commit a burglary, and openly charged him with this evil purpose. “You may call it burglary, or anything else you please,’ said he; ‘property is very unequally divided in this world, and it is my business in life to make wrong things rightas far as I cau. Iam going to the house ofa man who has « great deal more than he needs, and I haven't snything like as much as I need; and so Iin- tend to take some of his overplus—not very much, for when I leave his house he will still be a rich man and I'll be a poor one. But for a time my family will not starve.’ ‘Argueas you please, James Barlow,’ I said, ‘what you are going todo is nothing less than burglary.’ ‘Of course it is,’ said he, ‘but it’s all right, all the same. There are a lot of people, Thomas, who are not as particular about these things as they used to be, and there is no use for you to seem better than your friends and acquaintances. Now, to show there are not so many bigots as there used tobe. There’sa Young mar going to meetus at the station who is greatly interested in the study of social problems. He is going along with us just to Jook into this sort of thing and study it. It is impossible for him to understand people of our class or do anything to make their condition better ifhe does not thoroughly investigate their methods of life and action. He’s going along just as a student, nothing more, and he may be down on the whole thing for all I know. He pays me $5 for the privilege of accompany- ing me, and whether he likes it or not is his business. Iwant you to go along as a me- chanic, and if your conscience won't let you take any share in the profit I'll just pay you for your time.’ ‘James Barlow,’ said I, ‘Iam going with you, but for a purpose far different from that you desire. I shall keep br your side, and if I can dissuade you from committing the crime you intend I shail do so, but if I fail in this, and you deliberately break into a house for purposes of robbery, I shall arouse the in- mates and frustrate your crime.’ ‘Now, James Barlow,’ said he, turning to the stout man with ® severe expression on his strongly marked face, ‘is not what I have said perfectly true? Did you not say to me every word which I have just repeated?” The stout man looked at the other in a very odd way. His face seemed to broaden and red- den, and he merely closed his eyes as he promptly answered: “That's just what I said, every blasted word of it You've told it fair and square, leavin’ off nothin’ and puttin’ in nothin’. You've told the true facts out and out, up and down, with- out a break.” “Now, ladies,” continued the tall man, “you see my story is corroborated, and I will con- clude it by saying that when this house, in spite of my protest, had been opened, I entered with the others with the firm intention of ste; Ping into a hallway or some other suitable and announcing in a loud voice that the jouse was about to robbed. As soon asI found the family aroused and my purpose ac- complished I intended to depart as quickly as possible, for, on account of the shadow cast upon me by my father’s crime, I must never be found even in the vicinity of criminal action. But as I was passing through this room I could Rot resist the invitation of Barlow to partake of the refreshments which we saw npon the table. I was faint from fatigue and insufficient nourishment. It seemed a very little thing to taste a drop of wine in a nouse where I was abont to confer a great benefit, I yielded to the louap eonmy and now lam punished. Par- taking of even that little which did not belong to me, I find myself placed Fassing position. “You are right there,” said I; “it must be em- ing, but before we have any more re- flections there are some practical points about which I wish you would inform me. How did that wicked man, Mr. Barlow I think you called him, get into this house?” The tall man looked at me for a moment, as if im doubt what he should say, and then his expression of mingled hopelessness and con- trition changed into one of earnest frank- ness. “I will tell you, sir, exactly,” he said. Ro wish to conceal ‘anything. I have long wanted to have an opportunity to inform occu- pants of houses, especially those in the suburbs, of the msufliciency of their window fastenings. Familiar with mechanical devices as Iam, and sccustomed to think of such things, the precau- tions of householders sometimes move me to laughter. Your outer doors, frontand back. are of heavy wood, chained, locked and bolted, often double locked and bolted, but = lower windo' are closed in the t place by the lightest kind of shutters, which are very seldom fastened at all, and in the second place by a little contri ance connecting the two sashes, which is held im place by a couple of baby screws. If these contrivances are of the best kind and cannot be opened from the outside with a knife biade or piece of tin the burglar puts a chisel or jimmy under the lower sa-h and gently presses it upward. when the baby screws come out as easily as if they were babies’ miik teeth. Not for a moment does the burglar troubie himself about the front door, with its locks and chains and bolts. He goes to the window, with its baby screws, which might as weil be left open ut forall the hindrance it is to his en- trance. and if he meddied with the door at ail it is simply to open it from the inside, so that When be is ready to depart he may do #0 earl in my present emDar- that does not apply to my windows,” ‘hey are not fastened that way.” ir,” said the man, “your lower shut- ters are solid and strong as your doors. This isright, forif shutters are intended to ob- struct entrance toa house they should be as strong «s the doors. When James Barlow first reached this house he tried his jimmy on one Of the shutters inthe main buuding, but he could not open it. The heavy bolt inside was too strong for him. Then he tried another near by with the same result. You will find the shutters splintered at the bottom. Then he waiked to the small addition at the back of the house ere the kitchen is located. Here the shutiers were smalier and of course the inside bolts were smaiier. Everything in har- mony. Builders are so careful nowadays to have everything im harmony. When Barlow tied his jimmy on one of these shutters the bolt resisted for a time, but its harmonious ‘tions caused it to bend and it was soon drawn from its staples and the shutter opened. and of course the sash was opened asl told you sashes are opened.” Weil.” said 1, “shutters and sashes of mine shall never be opened in that way again.” “It was with that object that 1 spoke to you,” said the tall man. wish you to understand the faults of your fastenings, and any informa- fion I can give you which will better enable you to protect your house I shall be glad to give as & slight repayment for the injury I may have heiped to do to you in the way of broken glass aud spoiled carpet I bave made Window fastenings a special study, and, if you @mpioy me for tue purpose, Ili guarantee that 1 will put your house into a condition which be absolutely burgiar proof. If Ido not Roo peptoot satisfaction I will not ask to be paid « 7 = ri not consider that p: ition now,” said, “for you may have other engagements which would: interfere with the proposed job.” Iwas about to say that [ thougat we had enough — sort of story, when Aunt Martha me. dmterrup: “Itseems to me,” she said, speaking to tall burglar, Bagel bm have ieothenea ae Bows Bape couvictions, of what is mght aud proper, bat it is plain that you allow yourself to be led and influenced by unprincipled companions, You should avoid even the outskirts of evil. You may not know thatthe proposed enter- fainting bat you should uot take part it unless you know Gat itien goed cane bh such should be rigid.” ‘The man turned toward my aunt and ber, and as he =a repeated: ‘that is hard.” “Rigid,” “Yes,” I remarked, “that is one of the mean- ins of the word.” Paying no attention to me, he continued: “Madam,” said he, with a deep pathos in his voice, “no one can be better aware than I am, that I ba: i of my li rigidity when I know a thing is wrong. There occurs to me now an instance in my career which will prove to you what I say. “I knew a man by the name of Spotkirk who had invented a liniment for the cure of boils. He made a great success with his liniment, which he cailed Bodine, and at the time I ik of he was a very rich man. ‘One day Spotkirk came tome and told me hewanted me to do a piece of business for him. for which he would pay me twenty-five doilars. 1 was glad to hear this, for I was greatly in need of money, and Lasked him what it was ted me to do, You know Timothy Barker,’ said he; ‘well, Timothy and { have had a misunderstanding. and I want you to be a referee or umpire between us, to set things straight.’ ry good,” said I, and what is the point of difference?’ “I'll put the whole thing before you,’ said he, ‘for of course you must understand it or you can’t talk properly to Timothy. Now, you see, in the manufacture of my Boiline I need a great quantity of good yellow gravel, and Tim- othy Burker has got a gravel pit of that kind. Two years ago I agreed with Timothy that he should furnish me with all the gravel I should want for one-eighth of one per cent on the profits of the Boiline. We didn’t sign no pa- pers, for which Iam sorry, but that was the agreement, and now Timothy says that one- eighth of one percent isn't enough. He has gone wild about it, and actually wants ten per.| cent and threatens to sue me if I don't give it to .” re you obliged to have gravel? Wouldn't something else do for the purpose?” «There's nothing as cheap,’ said Spotkirk; “you see I have to have lots and lots of it. Every day I filla great tank with the gravel and let water onto it. This soaks through the gravel and comes out a little pipe in the bottom of the tank of @ beautiful yellow color; some- times it is too dark and thenI have to thin it with more water.’ «hen you bottle it?” I said. “Yes,” said Spotkirk, ‘then there is all the expense and labor of bottling it.’ “Then you put nothing more into it?” said L “*-What more goes into it before it’s corked,” said Spotkirk, 1s my business, and nobody else's, That's my secret, and nobody's been able to find it out. People have had Boiline analyzed by chemists, but they can’t find out the hidden secret of its virtue. here's one thing that everybody who has used it does know, and that is that it is a sure cure for boils. If applied for two or three days accord- ing to directions and at the proper stage the boil is sure to disappear. As a proot of its merit I have sold seven hundred and forty- eight thousand bottles this year,’ “At a dollar abottie?” said I, “‘That is the retail price,’ said he. “Now, then, Mr. Spotkirk,” said I, “it will not be easy to convince Timothy Barker that one-eighth of one per cent is enough for him. Gappore ho heuls kis gravel to your factor: ‘Hauling’s got nothing to do with it,” said wel is only 10 cents a load anywhere, and if I chose I could put my ‘actory right im the middie of » gravel pit, Timothy Burker Bas nothing to compiain of." “But he knows you are makinga lot of money,” said I, ‘and it will be a hard job to talk him over. Mr. Spotkirk, it's worth every cent of 250.” « ‘Now look here,’ said he, ‘if you get Barker give you to sign a paper that will suit me I’ fifty dollars, I’drather do that than have bring asuit. If the matter comes up in the courts those rascally lawyers will be trying to find out what I put into my Boiline, and that sort of thing would be sure to hurt my busi- ness. It wou't be so hard to get a hold on Barker if you go to work the right way. You can just let him understand that you know all about that robbery at Bonsall's clothing store, where he kept the stolen goods in his barn covered up with hay for nearly a week. It would be & good thing for ‘limothy Barker to understand that somebody else besides me knows about that business, and if you bring it in right, it will fetch bim around sure.’ “I kept quiet for a minute or two and then I ai “Mr. Spotkirk, this is an important business, Tean't toeck it under a hundred dollars.” He looked hard at me and then zrid: “Do it right ani a hundred dollars is yours.’ “After that I went to see Timothy Barker and had a taik with him. Timothy was boiling over and considered himself the worst cheated man in the world) He had only lately found out how Spotkirk made his Boiline, and what a big sale he had for it, and he was determined to have more of the profits. “Just look at it,’ he shout has washed out my gravel it was before, and he sells it for 25 cente a load to put on gentieme: laces. Even out of that he makes a hundred and fifty per cent profit.’ “I talked good deal more with Timothy Barker, and found out a good many things bout Spotkirk’s dealings with him, and then in an off-hand manner I mentioned the matter of the stolen goods in his barn, | just as if I had known all about it | from the very first. At this Timothy stopped jhouting and became as meek as a mouse. He | said nobody was as sorry as he was when he found the goods concealed in his barn had been stolen, and that if he had known it before the thieves took them away he should have informed the authorities; and then he went on to tell me how he got so poor and so hard up, by giving his whole time to digging and bai ing uravel for Spotkirk and negiecting his little farm; that he did not know what was going to ‘ome of him and his family if he couldn't muke better terms with Spotkirk for the future, and he asked me very earnestly to help him in this business if I could. iow, then, I set myself to work to consider this business. Here was a rich man oppressing | @ poor one, and here was this rich man offer- ing me €100, which in my eyes was a reguiar | fortune, to heip him get things so fixed that he | could keep on oppressing the poor one. Now, | then, here was a chance for me to show my | principles, Here was a chance for me to show | myself what you, madam, cail rigid; and rigid I was, I just set that dazzling $100 aside, | much as I wanted it. Much as I actually ‘when Spotkirk worth more than a somethin’ to wet my lips with—a little beer or hr Aen water, or anything you have con- venient.” “Whisky and water!” said Aunt Martha, with severity. ‘I should think not. It seems to me you have had all the intoxicating liquors in this house that you would want.” “But I don’t think you're the kind of person who'd doctor the liquor. This is the first gen- bee oes where I ever found anything of t c “The worse for the gentleman.” I remarked. The man grunted. £ “Well, ma’am, he said, ‘‘call it anything you lease—milk, cider, or, if you have nothin’ else, ll take water. Ican’t talk without somethin ye My wife rose. “If we are to listen to another story,” she said, “I want something to keep up my strength. shall go into the dining room and make some tea, and Aunt Martha can give these men some of that if she likes.” The ladies now leit the room, followed by Alice. Presently they called me, and leaving the burglars in charge of the a. jant David I went to them, I found them ing tea, “[ have been upstairs to see if George William is ail right, and now I want you to teil me what you think of that man’s story,” said my wife. i “I don’t think itastory at all,” saidI. “I ewlitalie. Astory is a relation which pur- ports to be fiction, no matter how much like truth it may be, and 1s intende | to be received as fiction. A lie is a false statement made with the intention to deceive, and that is what I be- Li we have heard tonight.” i agree with you exactly,” said my wife. “It may be,” said Aunt Martha, “that the man’s story is true. There are some things about it which make me think so, but if he is really a criminal he must have had trials and temptations which led him into his present mode of life. We should consider that,” “Ihave been studying him,” I said, “and I think he is born rascal who ought to have been hung long ago.” My aunt looked at me. “John,” she said,“if you believe people are born criminals they ought to be executed in their infancy, It could be done painlessly by electricity, aud society | would be the gainer, aithough you lawyers would be the losers, But I do not believe in your doctrine. If the children of the poor were properly brought up and educated, fewer of them would grow to be criminals.” [To be continued. } me ashthctlasiaearit Se THOSE “DON’T” CHILDREN, A New Breed of Humanity, the Product of Fashionable Society. From the New York Sun. We are witnessing the production of a new race of humanity, which is at present in its infancy, and w.ll be best named as “the Don’t Children.” The Don't children are the off- spring of the fashionable women up town and on Columbia heights and the Hill in Brooklyn. What kind of men and women they will make time alone can tell, but the result is well worth waiting for and will be very interesting. There are few if any adults now alive whogpent such childhood as these little things are going | through, but as there are now tens of thou- sands of such little ones they will make some sort of a distinct mark on the future social and business life of the town, The Don’t children are those little things we see in front of the brown stone houses with the nurse girls in mob caps and starched aprons, These little children are very peculiarly dressed; always ultra tashionably. Ii they are little » barely able to walk, they are dressed in long skirts that reach to the pave- ments, and have on either bonnets like old women or very great sprawling hats. If they are boys they are dreased equally within an inch of their lives, and in either case they | never stray five feet from their nurses, Their little faces look prematurely old and are often deeply lined because it is the fashion to keep them up with | their mothers assisting at entertaining in the parlors, eating rich food at the regular family dinner, and cake and ices at 10 or 11 o'clock at night.’ They have their own tastes in wines and cordials and drink with the grown folks, They go to the theaters and discuss the artists on the stage; indeed, they are all ‘made up” themselves as Elsie Leslies or Fauntleroys, or whatever the child heroes of the stage may happen to be called. They are called Don't children because the word ‘don’t like an iron band that cramps theig little lives. When they try to do any- thing that is childish, when their spirits effer- vesce and their infantile nature asserts itself in any way “don’t” is the word that checks them. If they start to run the nurse says don’t; if they begin to romp she says don’t; if they leap up and down with glee the nurse says don't; if they chatter at home, as littie things will, the mother says don't; so she does if their hands are soiled, if they smear their little mouths with chocolate or get down on all fours with the family kitten. Don't, don’t, don’t is the chorus of their seniors and the obstacle to all their natural inclinations, They become as unnatural as dwarfs. as stilted and cramped and abnormal as the trees the Japanese stunt for centuries or the feet that Chinese women compress in bandages. Their mothers rear them much in the same spirit that they guard their jewels. They are not to be free a moment, or to get out of sight, or to be left to the expression of a legitimate desire or trait o childhood. It will be inter- esting to happen up in the brown stone district twenty-five years from now just to see what sort of men and women these Don't children will become, ——_——-cee—____ | county politics, He IN WASHINGTON SOCIETY. Some of the Matrons Who Will Lead in the Winter's Gayeties. Mrs. Quay and Her Household—Mrs. Surgeon Magruder and Her Family Connections—Mrs. John Davis— Types of Womanhood in the Official Circles of Washington. > The senatorial circle presents many types of beauty, tastes and accomplishments among the matrons who will do the social honors of that distinguished body. In the list of those who figure in the more active sphere of polite gaye- ties during the season is the wife of the junior Senator from Pennsylvania, Senator Quay’s household affords a pleasant picture of dumes- tic happiness and quict enjoyment of home comforts and opportunities, The Senator is devoted to his family. In his association with his two fine sons, one a gallant soldier and the other a shrewd politician, he is more like a brother than a father, ‘MRS, SENATOR QUAY. Mrs, Quay, whose strong individuality and mental culture is associated with the strongest contrast of womanly gentleness of manner, taxes not only a deep interest in the political career of her husband but is remarkably well advised in political matters. Ever since her marriage, about thirty years ago, Mrs. Quay has been of invaluable assistance to her hus- band in the domestic and social phases of a political career. She was born in Beaver, which has been the Senator’s home from b: hood, he having been born fifty-six years ago in York county. As Miss Agnes Barkley she wasagreat belle among the many beautiful young women of the Beaver valley. Her father, John Barkley, was a prosperous’ merchant of the town of Beaver and was a man of public spirit and widely known. Her mother, Eliza- beth Shannon, belonged tothe family of one of the early Irish settlers who moved out in the advance of civilization and spread over the Pennsylvania borders into Ohio territory. When Matthew Stanley Quay and’ Agnes Barkley united their lives in matrimony the groom was an important factor in Beaver ad himself nominatedand elected prothonotary of his county in 1856 over the heads of the old ring of local bosses. He so completely took the whole machinery out of their hands that the veterans were forced to come to terms with the youthful political hero who had made his debut asa leader with the casting of his first vote. In her husband's subsequent career as a sol- dier, state legislator, secretary of state, re- corder of Philadelphia, chairman of the state committee, state treasurer, chairman of the national committee, up to the merited honors of the United States Senate, Mrs. Quay has adorned his home by her domestic qualities, her tact in meeting the unavoidable | inva- sion of household privacy by obtrusive or over eager politicians and her ready adaptation of herself to the emergencies of her surroundings, The family homestead at Beaver has always been the shrine of her thoughts, but in the politico-social life of the capital of the commonwealth, in the aristocratic and exclusive circles of the, metropolis on the Delaware, and more recently in the broader sphere of Washington fashionable diversions Mrs, Quay has borne her part with distinguished success. The home circle of the Senator and Mrs. Quay consists of their eldest son, Richard, who is a born politician. Before reaching his majority “Dick” Quay was an ele- ment in Beaver county politics, He has never been willing to take a nomina- tion, but next he will make his’ debut — by aceepting the repub- lican candidacy, which means an elec- tion to the legislature, in order to participate in the choice of a United States Senator. An- drew Gregg Curtin Quay, named after the war eas of Pennsylvania, is an officer in the fth United States cavalry by graduation from West Point and stationed in New Mexico. Mi Agnew Quay made her dvbut last season at one of the most popular drawing rooms ever given in Washington. The debutante assisted her year Graciously Bestowing a Card. From the Boston Transcript. There is an estimable lady, unmarried; and not unknown to literature, living in this city, who some time ago thought she had been par- ticularly fortunate in securing asa servant a genuine Yankee girl from Methuen. The girl was known to some friends whe had summer bourded down that way, and who recommended the girlas very capable and energetic. The Boston lady found the girl all of this, but she also found, what she might have expected, that Olive Ann had no sort of idea that she belon; to a lower social grade than her mistress, and that she was dispused to take the entire man- agement of the household, including a large part of Miss Tarbury’s private affairs, into her own hands, As Miss Tarbury, however. had had a great deal of trouble in getting a cupa- ble girl, she continued to bear Olive Ann's queer ways. The girl at first was aghast at the city noise and the city “goin’s on.” But by- and-by she began to be mightily interesied in all these things, and would march into the front parlor after her day’s work was done and, seating herself on a hassock, peer through the lace curtains at the passing people. It happened that diiss Tarbary’s apartments were not far from a celebrated educational in- stitution, which is attended by a large number of young men, some ot whom are very frolic- some youths. Presently these young fellows began, as they passed nightly, to notice the crouching figure and wild-eyed wondering face of Olive Ann us she sut, with her chin resting upon her paims, in Mies Tarbury’s parlor win- dow. Then they began to tip their hats to the queer figure, and even—the most impertinent ot them—to smile sweetly; and as Olive Ann showed no signs of displeasure, but, on the contrary, seemed to be very much pleased, they proceeded by easy but rapid stages to enter into conversation with her through the open window. All this, of course, without the knowlege of needed it I wouldn't look at it or think of it. | L just said to myself, ‘If youcan do any good | im this matter do it for the poor man,’ and I did do it for Limothy Barker, with his poor wife | aud seveu children, only two of them old | enough to ber 4 him in the gravel pit. 1 went to | Spockirk and I talked to him and I let him see that if Timothy Barker showed up the Boiline | business, as he threatened to do, it would be a bad day for the Spotkirk family. He tried hard to talk me over to his side, but I was rigid, madam, I was rigid, and the busi- nessended in my getting 7 per cent of the profits of Boiline for that poor man. ‘Timothy ‘ker and his large family and their domestic prosperity is entirely due—I say it without hesitation—to m} forte on their behalf, to my rigidity standing up for the poor aguinst the rich,” by means of receiver of ve you obi the rought down trom 10 pecans to OS at The tall burglar turned and etme looked | himself. face Miss Tarbury. But the young girl was much too delighted with these poiite attentions to x she mutter to herself. So one evening, while waiting in a condescending way on Miss bieent A at supper, she said: “Mighty nice folks ‘round here, Miss Tar- ‘es, Olive Ann, it isa very pleasant neigh- borhog a a ry iB! re ‘Why. Olive Au: Ye “what do you know about the young feilers?” ‘Oh, I’ve kinder got juainted with some on ‘em, thru the front bave none o’ my own—I knew you wouldn’ id it, you see—1 went upstairs and I—’ : Lda an —— you oF, Mies Pests . one of your car ary. pry A out % him! Why, Miss Tar bury! what in the world’s the matter with yey’ fainting fit she geve Olive Ana summary note, it ve Olive Ann sui not to quit, aud it said to have been at Joost » week before she ventured out of the house, fresh)—“Let Teak. Guise Sages tily —“No, thanks, I au: mother in receiving and was completely over- whelmed with congratulations and bouquets. Miss Quay has remarkable genius for painting and is one of the finest equestriennes at the capital. Coral and Susan are journeying to- gether along the pathway of learning and gain- ing experience by observation of the polite ways of older folks, The Senator having leased for the remainder of his term the roomy resi- dence on 19th and Q streets owned and occu- pied for some years by ex-Postmaster General Cresweil and more recently by Senator Sawyer has added to the household furniture some of the paintings, bric-a-brac and a portion of his library from his Beaver dwelling. Mrs, Quay and her danghter will be at home on Senators day in December, but will not begin their formal drawing rooms until the beginning of the regular season, She will also entertain some Pennsylvania friends during the fashion- able period. ‘MRS, ISABEL RICHARDSON MAGRUDER. Mre. Isabel Richardson Magruder, wife of Dr. Alexander F. Magruder, surgeon in the United States navy, is not only one of the social favor- ites among the younger wives but a most gen- erous entertainer in the fashionable life of the capital. Mrs. Magruder is the daughter of Chief Justice William A. Richardson of the Court of Claims. When secretary of the Treas- ury, during the first year of President Grant's second term, 1873-4, the Richardson household. then presided over by Mra. Richardson, then living, was one of the most attractive in the cabinet circle and was the scene of many ele- gant gayeties, Mrs. Magruder was born in Boston, and after receiving a liberal education in the schools at Uambridcs took a finishi and subsequently contin her studies at aris and in Germany, devoting this portion of aer time to the accomplishments of a feminine Dan ermal t Miss Richardson s not yet out Ric! ame to Wadkington with her parents, her -ather having been made assistant secretary he treasury uncer Mr, Boutwell, whom he pelea sneceeded, She sy mig @ great Pet mony U oun; ol families wteial Life’ ‘and’ Sande har. devas clat. Soon after Secre' - d — ¥. # presides, her father remaining 5 chief justice, in order to make more ample accommodations for the comfort of his daugh- ter and himself, erected a spacious mansion— No. 1739 H street—which is in one of the choivest sections of the fashionable quarter. Here the daughter of the chief justice of the Court of Ciaims entertains extensively. Her drawing rooms are always thronged with the elite of the capital. She has two beautiful children, Alexander Richardson and Isabel Richardson Magruder, named after both parents, Dr. Magruder, who is one of the peaoeee surgeons, with the relative rank of jieutenant. is a son of the late Dr. Magruder of Georgetown, D.C. His mother, now deceased, was a member of the historic Fitzhugh family of Virginia, 81 m Magruder is on duty at the marmne barracks, and is therefore enjoying the domestic comforts ot his home instead of sharing a naval surgeon's fate of “roaming the oceans o'er.” Mrs. Magruder, after a summer sojourn in the picturesque glades of the Alle- gbanies at Deer Park, returned in the enjoy- ment of excellent health and expects to resume her elegant entertainments when the social sea- son begins, MRS. DAVIS. The recollection of the generous hospitalities of Mr. and Mrs, Frelinghuysen in the senatorial aud later in the cabinet circles revives mem- ories of one of the most interesting periods in the political and social life of the capital, Senator and afterward Secretary Frelinghuysen was one of the most courtly gety ae gently mannered men in public life, and his interest- ing family of daughters added increased at- tractions to his social surroundings, which were 8o well presided over by his estimable wife. During the senatorial term of their father the three daughters—Misses Lucy, Tillie and Helen—were great favorites in Washing- tcn fashionable life. The youngest of the three sisters, the wife of Mr. tenn Di of the United States Court of Claims, continues her residence in Washington, Owing to family bereavements Mrs. Davis has not takema very prominent pert in polite gayeties for several years, but she still figures in a circle of devoted friends who will be delighted to once more welcome her into the social activities of the fashionable season. Sarah Helen Frelinghuy- sen was born in Newark, N.J. Her childhood was passed in the usual routine of mental training, but having reached the age of culture in the realities and romance of education she was placed at one of the most select of the fashionable young ladies schools of New York city. Her father, Frederick T. Frelinghuysen, was a man of national repute. in public affairs. His position and influence im the Senate caused him to be selected as a member of the electoral tribunal which seated President Hayes and upon the ac- cession of Chester A. Arthur to the presidency he was invited into the cabinet as its chief member, Mrs. Davis’ mother, Matilda Gris- wold Frelinghuysen, whose death took place last May at the family seat in Park Place, Newark, was the daughter of Geo. G, Griswold of New York, The Griswold family came from Lyme, Conn,, the birthplace of Chief Justice Waite. Her brothers, N. L. and G. G. Gris- wold, now deceased and business closed, dur- ing their active live constituted the largest shipping house in New York, having bad many , Vessels engaged in the East India and China trade. Mrs, Frelinghuysen’s father was not only # leading citizen anu successful merchant but an intimate friend of Daniel Wester. When she married Mr, eis jydace in 1849 her father gave her as a bri present the home in Newark which has been the scene of family joys and sorrows over a period of forty years, The death of Mr. Frelinghuysen in 1885, almost immediately after his retirement from oifice at the close of the Arthur adminis- tration, was a shock from which Mrs, Freling- huysen never recovered, although she lingered tor four years, with frequent attacks of illness which caused great alarm among the members of the family. Last May Miss Tillie Frelinghuysen, the second daughter, quietly married H. Win- thrope Grey. It was rtmored during the Arthur regime that the President would make this tall, handsome and gifted daughter of the Secretary of State the bride of the executive mansion. The groom of the recent occasion, known as “Winnie” Grey among his intimate friends, some years ago married a daughter of the late William R, ‘Lravers of New York and subsequently obtained a divorce from her for causes on her pert which were indisputably proven. A duel in Ontario formed one of the scenes in this domestic scandal in which the injured husband and one John G. Hecksher, the villain, were the principals, Miss Lucy Frelinghuysen remains at the family homestead and will preside over its do- mestic duties. Her two sisters and three brothers remain to enjoy the comforts and the revered memories of tue old home. Mrs, Davis, having passed the summer in Europe with her husband, will not be in so- ciety during the coming season on account of the mourning of the family tor their mother. She is pleasantly remembered, however, asa belie during the senatorial career of her father and as the bride of Mr. John ‘is in 1875,who became assistant secretary of state during the secretaryship of Mr. Frelinghuysen and judge of the Court of Ciaims at the close of the i dential term of Chester A. Arthur. Mrs. is an exceedingly attractive type of the wil- lowy materialization of feminine beauty, She has a peculiarly winning face, which is made more striking by its womanly recast of the classic and yet poetic features of her father. phe is very entertaining In conversation and her manners possess a refinement and grace which wins the admiration of every one who has the pleasure of her personal attention. DeB.R.E. ———_+e+ -____ What? Oh. w hat is the love or the hate of men? What is their praises or their blame? Their bame is a breath, but an echo of death, And a star that glows bright and is gone from the sight— Ab! such is the vanishing guerdon of fame. Oh, what is the grief or the joy of life? What is its pleasure or pain? ‘The joys we pursue pass away like the dew: And though bitter the grief time brings relief ‘To the heart that is wounded again and again. Oh, what is the loss or the gain of time? And what is success’ fair crown? The gain that we prize—lo! it fades and it flies; And the loss we deplore as quickly is o'er. ‘the — to choose ’twixt life's amiles and rowns. lite Oh, men they maylove and men they may hate; Ik matters little to me; For life is a breath, and hastens death To gather in all, from the hut and wall, To the home (hat is narrow—the house that is free. —Boston Transcript. —————+e+—____ Quite Constitutional. From the Boston Times. Franklin Parke—“I hear there is going to be an organized movement this season against decollete dresses,” Beacon Street—‘‘Well, what of that?” oxpnniak 38 may Rave come: effect, don’t x “No, I don’t, Nosuch movement could have weight in a free country like this, ‘The second amendment to the tution. you know. ro the ‘the right to bear arms shall not be we'd like to ‘ve you perform the ceremon: Xe Widor well, take time te 7! 4 for us,’ R 23, 1889—TWELVE PAGES, 7 Result of Agricultural Department Ex- periments in the American Desert, ALL THAT WaS DONE WAS TO 40LD THE GRUUXD DOWN WITH MATTED STRAW AND To PLOW DERP—SUCCESSFUL CULTIVATION IN AN ALMOST RAINLESS DISTRICT WITHOUT IRRIGATION. The most important piece of news that has reached the Agricultural department at Wash- ington for a long time past is conveyed by a re- Port just received from southwestern Kansas announcing that the problem of making the great American desert productive without water has been definitely solved at last, When this is said it is meant to imply that the arid belt of the west, extending from the 100th meridian to the base of the Rocky mountains, can be made to bear profitable crops without the aid of irrigation, through processes of the simplest sort, devised and carried into effect by government botanists during the last few months, When it is considered that the most enthusiastic advocates of irrigation in the dry region admit the impossibility of moistening. by artificial means or otherwise, by far the greater part of the desert aforesaid, the fabu- lous value of this discovery—it thus it may be called—can be fecbly guessed at. To make a barren waste produc® food plants profitably without supplying water—such was the problem with which the botanical division of the Agri- cultural department found itself, a while ago, confronted, THE GARDEN CITY EXPERIMENT STATION. Accordingly experiment station was started by the division last autumn in south- west Kansas, not far from Garden City. This particular location was chosen because its con- ditions were typical of the arid region gen- erally. Two hundred and forty acres were bought—80 acres in one t and 160 in another. The land was mostly open prairie, the surface a stiff clay loam, the top of which was baked by the sun into firm crust almost 48 Impervious to rain as so much slate. About 20 inches of rain fell, in was learned, in a twelvemonth—pretty ‘nearly the average oe the desert belt, and, of course, it ran off without entering the soil. The super- intendent of the station and bis men set to work to see what could be done with the 80-acre patch. To eight acres of the space, however, they mainly confined their prelimi nary experiments; the rest, for the most they planted with forage for the mules cattle, employing irrigation to help ut the eignt acres were not irrigated nor supplied with water in any manner arti- ficially, The eight acres, as originaliy found, were covered with burr-grass and a prickly perennial weed with a long botanical name that is regarded out west as a worse curse than the C: thistle, being even more difficult toeradicate. All this was cleared off in the early part of last full, the soil was plowed and harrowed until thoroughly pulverized a foot deep, and last spring it was planted with grasses and forage plants. It was found that the winter's frosts tended to dirintegrate the baked surface crust and render it readily arable. Only eight acres were treated in this way, because there were only seeds enough of the sorts desired to plant that amount of space, INDIGENOUS PLANTS, The notion of the Agricultural department has been that the food plants best adapted for sgricultural use in the drf belt had been al- ready placed there by all-wise nature, and so, inasmuch as no seeds of such plants were pur- chasable, men were sent over the prairies of western Kansas and Colorado in September and October of last year, with sacks over their shoulders and sheep shears im their hands, to cutoff the tops of the ripened grasses and things, for it was desired to plant these germs and find out what they would do with cultiva- tion. Also forty kinds of grass and forage plant seeds were imported from abroad, includ- ing eighteen or twenty varieties from India. These were all planted last spring on the eight acres in the dry pulverized soil, together with about a dozen species collected by the grass gatherers trom the prairies, The latter species were nearly all represented likewise by clewn varieties of grass planted in the shape of sods, from one to five square rods of each, got within the neighborhood of the station. Such was the work of the spring lastyear. The prickly weed Rersiated in reappearing and gave an immense of trouble. Men had to go over the land constantly with gloves aud pick it out by hand. No water was contributed artificially to the ordinarily parched land and the experimental party devoted its attention to putting up baild- ings for lodging the party and for storing seed while it waited to find out what would come up without water from soil that for lack of water had never produced anything before. HOW THE GROUND WAS TREATED. Part of the eight acres was covered with matted straw, after the planting, and part was not. The part left uncovered produced very little, for—as is usual in that region of wind- swept plains—the powdered surtace soil, with soeuepia put in it, was blown away. But the part covered with the straw produced, without 4 drop of water supplied save from the scant rains, a far more abundant crop than was mare with first-rate irrigation to heip, on the rest of the eighty acres which had been sown to feed the mules and cattle of the expedition. Ina word, it has been discovered that the average soil of the great American desert can be made to produce plentiful harvests of grasses, forage L yeored and, if those, then also meat, corn and potatoes, without any more water than is supplied at present. Toaccom- plish the result two things are needed—the round must be pulverized deeply, to make a Bed for holding the water that falls in rain, and the planted surface must be covered after the sowing of the first crop with matted straw. Subsequent crops will require no straw, for the reason that the matted roots will keep the dry earth from being blown away. ‘This isan addition to human knowledge which in the opinion of an Agricultural de- partment official who talked to a Star reporter should throw open to agriculture hundreds of thousands of acres hitherto deemed worthless and add hundreds of millions of dollars to the taxable valuation of the country, RAISING SORGHUM, Dr. Vasey, chief of the botanical division, who has just returned from the Kansas grass sta- tion, told Tae Star reporter that among other things the experiments above described had proved thatthe desert land, unirrigated and treated in the way mentioned would produce from ten to twenty tons of sorghum per acre a year, Every one knows what admirable cattle fodder that is. And cattle are the wealth of a western husbandman. Meatand its feed would be readily grown and vegetables for human consumption likewise. Ail the farmer need do is to conserve his water by deep plowing and keep his loam from blowing away by a pre- liminary shift of straw. jtraw applied isa thin layer of clean wheat straw, which is mat- ted down by running a heavy land-roller over it, True to the theory previously held by the Agricultural department the eleven or 80 grasses native to the soil of West Kansas flour- ished in the unwatered earth, ouly moistened by the scant rains, with the utmost luxuriance, The grasses from India did not germinate, robably because the loag sea voyage in the p hold of a vessel killed them. Some of the other foreign grasses, however, did admir- ably and fo: plauts likewise. For instance, vey bon forage plant called “‘sanfoin,” re- sembling lucerne, came up wonderfully, as did also some very promising foreign vetches. and soon, Among the native grasses that grew best were three kinds of ‘blue joint” and also “switchgrass” and the famous “blue stem” ranchmen. IS THE BEARD DOOMED. A Swell Young Man Who Looks For- ward to a Regime of Smooth Faces. “Why do I not wear a moustache?” said the swell young man, repeating Ter Stan re- Porter's question. “Partly because Iam notable to raise one worth cultivating, anda measly One is scarcely an adornment. You remember the old story, I suppose, about the youth who complained to the barber that the bair would not grow upon his upper lip.” “I don’t understand it,” be said. “My father has a remarkably heavy moustache.” “Perhaps eet may be,” replied the barter consoling|y, stropping his razor, “zat monsieur takes after madam, bees mamma.” “I must have been so with myself, But even if I were able to grow a moustache—thongh doubtiess you will esteem it a case of sour grapes—I don’t think I should do so.” WHY IT MUST G0, “And why not?” asked Tue Stan reporter. “Simply because every man wears a mous- tache nowadays, You can’t find a bar tender, @ car conductor or s shop clerk that docen't have one, in nearly every case without other beard. The style of wearing the moustache alone, with the rest of the face clean shaved, seems to be almost universal in this countrs at present. But you must have noticed that whenever a fashion has once become vulgarly popular gentleveople drop it. For a reason of Bo ordinary sort the moustache has held its own with gentiemen surprisingiy long; bat it is already exhibiting symptoms of going out, and I predict that before many years it will no longer be considered the thing to wear it. Look around you and you will see many more men with their upper lipssbaved than were tobe found a short time The reason wherefore the moustache has held on so long is simply that it as such an cmenuhingty tnouraliee ornament. It is not too much to say, I think, that the average man who is considered band- some would not be thought so at all if he were to shave off his moustache. Have you never seen # good-looking friend after he bad eacri- ficed the adorument and were you not shocked at the alteration in bis appearance? If so, it was not the change merely that was painful, but chiefly the abselute loss of beauty it entailed. hy is it that ugly boys so often ‘ow up to be comely men? In most cases use the acquisition of moustaches bas improved their looks.” MEN'S MOUTHS NOT PRETTY, “That would seem hardly enough to account for it.” “It goes along way. For you will observe that the ugly feature in the male of the human species is the mouth. Most men have fairly good faces otherwise. but their mouths are in nearly every case bad, Although in ninety- nine instances out of a hundred their noses are twisted perceptibly to the right—as you may notice any day by walking half-a-dozen blocks on F street—probably owing to the habit of wiping the organ with the right hand, and not- withstanding the fact that their ears are almost invariably misshapen, they would do pretty well if it were not for their mouths, Bu: the masculine mouth is very rarely well shaped; it is usually too large, and the upper lip is apt to be too thick. The moustache covers it suffle ciently to disguise its ugliness, and therefore it is that the appendage is justly considered so becoming; it is also ornamental, I think, in itself. But it will surely go out of fashion be- fore long.” ORIGIN OF THE MUSTACHE. “Do you know how the custom of wearing the mustache without other beard originated?” “I have heard that the ancient Germans, Franks, Goths and Britons, in the time when Cesar conquered them, shaved their chins and cheeks and wore moustaches. The Saxons wore long beards, but shaving became fax! - able in England after the conquest y the Nor- mans, who regarded it as asign of misery and distress to permit hair to grow upon their faces. Fifty years ago. you know, no gentle- man in England or in this country would have thought of wearing any beard at all. The moustache first came in, I have understood, as astrictly military ornament aud the wearing of it was considered such an exclusive privilege im those days that a civilian’s face was sometimes slapped by an army officer for infringing the right of adopting the decoration. But 1 was not long before all classes of men took it up and it served as an introduction for whiskers and beard. When the moustache goes out again it will carry full beard and whiskers with it, so that clean shaving, originally introduced in ancient Rome by Scipio Africanus, will come into fashion again. A good thing it will be, too.” ADVANTAGES OF THE BEARD. “You don’t approve of whiskers and beards either, then?” “Why should I? The notion of a man's growing a luxuriant vegetable all over his face is not in itself particularly agreeable oue. A full beard is very rarely becoming or an im- provement to the beauty of the person who wears it. I bave seen half «a dozen men in my lite, perhaps, who were made superb by a wealth of beard, In nearly every case, Lowever, it sug- eee to me the notion that the owner of the ard merely wears it through siovenly lazi- ness, because he will not take the trouble to shave. Doubtless, beards prevent colds, and I have been told that musicians who toot wind instruments find their lip muscles strengthened by a hairy growth; but, for my own part, Iam willing to sacrifice these advantages for the sake of looking clean, It is asserted that nature provides man with the beard fora throat protector. May be that is true, though the fact is worth mentioning that only of the human species is so equipped. The Chinese, Japanese, ys, Siamese, New Zealanders and North American Indians are all beardless, Negroes have very little beard and no whis- a For and Against the Weed. From the Nationa! Review. The fact that in a single cigar is contained sufficient nicotine to kill two strong men is not 80 terrifying when it is remembered that the other substances which go to make it up have a neutralizing effect, though the school boy's experiences after his first pipe show the dire results of drug when taken in unaccus- tomed doses,'whether large or small. It is no argument in its favor to say that strong men, clever men—aye, great men—bave smoked and owned no ill effects from it, Those strong men might have been stronger; those great men greater. It is not rational to argue, as the President of the United States did when certain officers of the army complained to nim that Gen. Grant was an immoderate drinker of whisky, and he replied, ‘Let me know where Grant gets his whisky that I may send a barrel- ful to every general in the army.” A Bis- ™marck may smoke, but no amount of smoking will create a Bismarck, rather will it, in nine cases out of ten, destroy the embryo chun- cellor or statesman, Neither are the facts that wounded soldiers on the bettle field cry out for tobacco, that the Indians go for days without food, subsisting only on the stimulus of the pipe, that lunatics are allowed to smoke to the frenzy of their diseased braius, and that by puffing atabig cigar the white man preserves himself in tropical climates from in- sect pests, (though he destroys the insects), any proof that tobacco is the health elixir some people would have us to believe it to be; abnormal suffering, whether of mind or body, requires @ narcotic, unwonted situations de- mand unaccustomed habits, The chief harm of tobacco lies in the fact that the nicotic powon acts by a system of accumulation; its toxie in- fluences are not transitory as those of aicobol, Moderate quantities habitually taken result im chronic nicotism of the system. The somewhat resembies that of ; itis slow Cannibals are said to turn up flesh of Masazine. ‘The island of Bermuda is a sort of natural observatory for watching gales from the i i Ff ie? i ine iit