Evening Star Newspaper, April 26, 1890, Page 7

- Writtes for Tae Peete eran. OSE WAS THE HAND’ BY MISS BRADDON. Author cf “Lady Andley't Secret.” “Like and Unlike,” “Ishmael,” “The Day Will Come.” do. — {ALL RIGHTS RESERVED} CHAPTER XXIIL WHERE THE GOLD CAME FROM. ON Pedro Perez, more commonly spoken of im the Parisiau world as le vieux Perez, or Perez Deon. was one of the best known men i Maris, and yet he but rarely appeared in ihose haunts where the world of Paris most joves to congregate. In the haunts of pleas- ure he was almost a stranger. He hung about the aide scenes of no Boulevard Theater; he frequented not the race courses of Longchamps or Auteuil. He sat late at his club, playing whist, but the club was quiet and altogether out of the movement, and he was au uukuown figure at those more fashionable clubs where fortunes are lost at baccarat. But there was one place where Senor Perez reigned supreme, where his name was a word of fear, bis coun- tenance an augury of gain or loss to thousands, ‘That place was the Bourse. There Pedro Perez was as a king among his fellow-men. He was « Spaniard by birth, though he had lived nearly half a century in Paris. or rather owillated between Paris and Madrid during that period. He deait only in Spanish-Amer- ican securities. That line was his specialty. @ scheme had lived. faded ‘and expired hin the limits of a prospectus, while Perez swept the money of the shareholders into his own capacions pocket. ae Don Pedro had been only a coulissier in those days, but with the progress of time and the suppression of the privileges of those tinan- cial sharp-shooters—the guerilla band of the noble army of speculators—the Spaniard had put on that electro-plate surface of honesty whick very often passes as genuine metal in the world of speculation. Investors followed him and confided in him because of his reputa- tion for acumen and good luck, rather than be- cause they believed that the Pedro Perez of today was altogether a different character from that Perez of thirty years ago about whom such queer stories were current. ‘ He had been given the sobriquet of Perez Peru because he was considered as deep and a3 rich as the deepest mine in that vast republic, and perhaps partly because his complexion had atinge of that copper ore in which he had dealt so largely. The first ten years of Perez Peru's financial career had been years of struggle and petty fraud. Petty fraud had failed to make him rich and timid speculation had only served to keep him, like Mahomet's coffin, in a middle distance between the heaven of wealth and the heli of poverty. Then came his heroic period, which was short aud sharp. bolder speculation and more uncompromising chicanery. Five years of this hazardous adventure, in which he escaped the galleys only by the skin of his teeth, made him a capitalist; and fifteen years as a alissier had educated him in the deepest secrets of finance. There was not a trick of the Stock Exchange which Perez Peru bad not at his fingers ends. He could stand idle, with his back against astone pillar and with his! eratty southern eyes looking farther into | futurity than auy other eyes in that crowded buildimg. All that he touched after this period } seemed to turn to gold. it turned to dross | afterward, perhaps; but not till Senor Perez had passed it on te somebody else. He was never known to buy toe soon or to hold too‘ long. Ina word, he was financial wisdom per- souitied, Iu all the monotonous years in which the k Exchange was his only temple, the share list his only Bible, Pedro Perez had lived with | en almost Spartan simplicity: not because he | begrudged himself the cost of laxurious living, | for personal expenditure, however profuse, | would have hardly made a perceptible impres- | sion upon his income. He spent little because he cared for making money and did not care | for spending it. He had lived im the same house in the Kue Vivienne for the forty years ot his Parisian life. The house was within a handred yards of the Place de la Bourse, and it | suited him. The only difference that he had made in those forty years was to descend 1 “ually from the scanty seclusion of # single gar- ret to the space and comfort of the entire first | floor. He had breakfasted at the Hestaurant | (hampeanx during the greater part of the last thirty years, In his decade of probation he had fed only in his attic or in some cheap restaurant on the Rive Gauche, where he! wandered in the cool of the evening, thought- {nl and solitary even before his thirtieth year. ‘the man was the financial instinct incarnate, he passion for abstract mathematics which | possesses some brains in his took the more | vulgar form of money-getting; but the mathe- | matical genius was there to a high degree, and some of his combinations were worthy of New- ton or Laplace. For tive aud thirty years of his Parisian ca- | reer Pedro Perez had never been found guilty | of acaprice. He had come to be looked upon | 48 a money-making machine, inexorable as steel and adamant, working always in the same grooves, relentless, unvarying; when all at | once the report was circulated that Perez Peru | had come back from Madrid with a “harem,” | and for more than nine days Perez Peru's | harem was the standing joke in the cafes where the Bourse was paramount. Perez Peru's barem was the subject of a caricature in the most audacious of the little journals of Paris, Perez Peru's harem was the theme of a comic song, almost as popular as the later “Gendre de M. Grevy. The harem upon closer inquiry was found to consist of three women whom Perez had estab- lished im a second floor in the Rue St. Guil- jaume. A mother and daughter, both hand- some, the daughter eminently so; a cousin, piain and dowdy, or, if uot absolutely plain, taded and elderly. The three women were seen one night in a box at the opera, the young beanty resplendent im amber satin and diamonds. ry lognette was turned to that box, and for the next three days all Paris talked of the dark beauty with the diamonds. “She was wearing the wealth of Peru upon her neck and arms,” said the boursicotiers and their following. After this Dolores was rarely visible to the eye of all Paris. If she went to a theater or an opera. and she was but seldom allowed that privilege, she was made to sit deep in shadow, as closely curtained from the public gaze as if she had been the Pearl of Istamboul, chief light of some jealous pasha’s harem. Her story had but few elements of mystery, albeit her seciuded life gave a flavor of the mysterious to her personality. She had been bar- sained for by Pedro Perez as sordidly as any attern slave that was ever sold in a public market place. The girl and ber mother had arrived in Madrid some years before with an «ppearauce of ample means, and for @ year or two Madame Quijada had occupied anapartment im a fashionable quarter, and had shown her- self daily on the Prado. well dressed, observed and admired. She was taken to be an adven- turess aud « free lauce, but no one troubled imself about her antecedents. The police hadan upon her for the first few months, bat could find nothing suspicious in her manner of hfe. Dolores was at a convent dur- lug the three or four years in which she grew trom childhood to girlhood. Madame Quijada was not alone during these years of her daughter's education. Shortly after her arrival in the Spanish capital she was joined by a niece, who from that time shared her fortunes, good or bad. The niece was in- troduced to Madame Quijada’s acquaintances as Lonise Marcet, and she was said to have but recently recovered from « brain fever, which had seriously affected mind and memory. Her aut told her contidantes that this orphan uiece of hers bad been disappointed in love, and that the braim fever had been the outcome of her disappomtment. However true this way have been it was beyoud question that a wore iiserable-looking woman than Louise Marcet at this period could hardly be found on this planet. where if people sometimes take their —— sadly they often take their fs lightly. The time came when the widow's cruse would hold out no longer, aud it was necessary to withdraw Dolores from the fashionable con- vent. The good nuns affected a holy simplicity iw their aecounts, and they gave no credit. Dolores was now eighteen, beautiful, care- fully educated, fairly accomplished. She went oi the pare atmosphere and perfect comfort a well-organized educational establishment tu ashabby lodging in « sordid quarter. She went from all the refinements of life to all tha: is ugliest in the domain of poverty. Tha changg was a shock which youthful selfishness felt keenly. Perhaps Madame Quijada was not sorry that her daughter suffered from the misery of her surroundings. It might prey ber mind for the crisis to which her mother jwoked forward. x Pedro Perez was almost as wi known in Madrid as he was in Paris: and he was perhaps even wore profoundly reverenced in the less wealthy capital, Madame Quijada had tried Su his gifts. These ae to force herself upou his notice, but she had | cent gems had often passed under Duv. ie approached him with a modesty which flattered us self-csteem. She had besought his counsel eG asst ‘small in amount that the great Sfinancier was provoked to smile—be so rare! smiled st ber simplicity. Such smoli inve f) been is stepping-stones to iortune—sneh -imple creatures as this shabby-geutec! widow h» i pnt their little savings into those rotten «nter- ‘ises of which Pedro Perez had bren bo'h the | ling Alpha and the dark and cruel Omega. The widow's tongue was soft and insinuating. and for almost the first time in his life Perez was moved to a benevolent action, He lent the widow fifty louis to invest in an Argentine rail- way—lent fifty louis without security and with- out interest—but on second thoughts he in- sisted upon holding the scrip. “Women are so short-sigtited.” he said, after ag this conditioa, “vou would be selling lirst rise. These shares are worth hold- m: atti ing.” Madame Qnijada was im sore need of fifty louis. but it aided a certain plan of hers that Senor Perez should hold the stock. It gave her aright of approach to him. His image had dwelt in her mind ever since she came to Spain as the image of wealth incarnate. She had dreamed her dream about this rich and | lonely old man; and the hour for the realiza- tion of that dream was at hand. She wrote him a piteous letter about a fort night after Dolores left the convent, telling him she was too ill to leave her wretched hot and she was in want of money. She believed that the dividend — her Argentines was nearly due. It would only amount, she sup- posed, to a conple of louis, but forty francs would be something between her wretched household and starvation. She had now three mouths to fill. Her daughter had been with- drawn from the convent where she had grown up and was sharing the discomforts of her wretched lodging. Pedro Perez was not given to acts of charity and was not in the habit of caring whether his fellow-creatures dined or starved; but Madame Quijada had contrived te impress him with the idea that she was a remarkably clever woman, and that the world would be the poorer for her joss, Had the flatterer been old and ugly even feminine tact and subtlety might have failed to win his ear, but Madame Quijada was still handsome and still young enough to seem at- tractive in the eyes of aman who had passed his sixtieth birthday. He was not in love with her, but he thought her aremarkably attractive woman, and instead of sending her fifty francs by his servant he went himself to see in what kind of aden so much ability had foun elter. He went, saw Dolores in all the splendor of her fresh young beauty, and was conquered. He had never known what it was to feel his heart beat quicker at the sight of a woman's face till he saw Madame Quijada’s daughter. He was subjugated at once and forever. His instinct urged him to make as hard a bargain as he could with the girl's mother; but the set- tlement to which he finally consented was more than princely. Princes are seldom so gener- ous. Had Madame Quijada insisted upon his sacrificing his last penny he would have done it sooner then lose the woman he loved. Had she insisted upon his marrying her daughter he would have done it. Indeed, the chief con- sideration that prevented his offering to make Dolores his wife was his keen dread of ridicule, and the consideration that he could keep a mis- tress under closer surveillance than he could a wife. He selected the Rue St. Guillaume as a neighborhood remote from the gay and popu- lar Paris of the Boulevards and Re de Kivoli, in which the casual English and American vis- itor delights, far also from the Champs Elysees and the Pare Monceaux, with their residential population of fashionable artists and Bohemians of allkinds, The Kne St. Guillaume was old- fashioned, sober and eminently respectable. | » chose @ suite of apartments in a grave old | house with an inner quadrangle—a house so | grave and silent that the stone quadrangle | might have been a cloister. He furnished the | rooms with @ somber luxuriousuess, and he offered the cage to his snared bird with an air | of devoted submission which might have be- guiled her into forgetfulness of the bars which shut her in from all the outer world. Upon Madame Quijada he imposed the duty. of keeping guard over his sultana. The girl's lightest whim was to be studied and mduiged, so iong as that whim did not lead to the gay outer world aud its frivolous associations. Dolores was to be a queen, but her kingdom was to be within stone walls. She wes only to | take air and exercise under conditions of | supreme prudence. Nhe was never to flaunt her beauty in the Bois de Boulogne at the hionable hour of the day, but Madame Quijada had a carriage «t her disposal in which she migit drive in the less frequented suburbs of Paris, or in the Bois at an hour when ail Paris was elsewhere. These restrict hard upon a girl of eighteen, newly emauci- pated from the monotonous rules and regula- tions of # convent school and pauting for liber: “El Santo Corazon was a prison,” she com- plained, “but at least 1 had plenty of fellow- prisoners. ‘This is solitary coufisement.” She chafed bitterly against the dreariness of her life. and she detested the man who had made himself her master; but her mother's stronger character had acquired compiete do- minion over her, and she had neither strength of will nor courage to rebel against her chains, | She submitted toher fate. She wore the costly jewels which were her badge of slavery; she gratified her girlish fancy in surrounding’ her- self with the loveliest flowers that the south sent to Paris; and she might, perhaps, have grown reconciled to her position, and with but slightest persuasion might have induced Pedro | Perez to give her the name and status of wife, if she had not been so uphappy as to full in love with her cousin, Leon Duverdier. During the first year of her residence in Paris Duverdier was a frequent visitor in his aunt's salon. He was aboutforty years of age, handsome, audacious, plausible, more seductive in his riper years than a younger lover would have been, because more ex- perienced in the artifices that fascinate a romantic girl, He had newly returned from Spanish America, where he had been living a roving and adventurous life, now in one state, how in another, making money no one knew | exactly how, but a familiar figure at the | gaming tables of every city in which he had his habitation, He came to Paris, set up his laboratory, and described himself a8 an experimentalist and in- ventor on the high road to great and useful | discoveries. Perez knew of the relationsinp | between Duverdier and the Quijadas aud ha met Duverdier on the Bourse, but he did not know that this handsome cousin was a frequent | visitor in the Rue St. Guillaume, since the younger mau’s visits were always so timed as to avoid the master of the prison house. Had it been otherwise the old nfan’s jealousy would have been quick to take alarm. In her utter ignorance of life Dolores turned to her cousin as the representative of all that is most fascinating and most interesting in the outer world. Was it likely, then, that he would neglect his opportuni with Dolores, a lovely and inexperienced girl who had the command of one of the deepest purses in Paris? He had too holy» fear of his aunt to ap- | snp his cousin in the guise of the seducer at he contrived to win her affections, as if un- awares, and she was perhaps all the more biindly in love with him because he had never | asked her for her heart. He always affected to respect her relations with Perez, and he told her bluntly that her mission in life was to make the financier her husband, “It is your own fault that the marriage has not come off ages ago,” he said; and then, when te girl answered him only with a deep sigh, it was his task to console her, his task to talk of the happiness which might have been had his lot in life been different. “Tam little better than a panper,” he told her, ‘‘and my life is full of bitter memories, No woman who values her own happiness should link her lot with mine.” Dolores pondered over that phrase, “bitter memories,” and she interpreted it after her own fancy, which told her that Leon's youth had been blighted by some dark love story, tale of ed a and broken hearts such as she was reading about daily in the novels which were her chief recreation, There were times when he talked, dark hints and unfinished sentences, of his past ex- periences—the women who had loved him and broken their hearts for him; th woman, beautiful, high placed, a star of loftiest magni- tude, whom he Bad joved and in vain, ‘The girl listened and believed, weak as water, loving him all the more because her love was uureturned. He was full of tender- ness for her by fits and starts; but he gave her to understand that he could never again love as he had loved that great lady who had flung away name, country, home and reputation for his sake, and who had died a tragical death in the morning of their love, Daverdier’s visit tothe Rue St. Guillaume had not been altogether disinterested. He had gone there in times of financial difficulty, fl | wealth and the fear of penury. “THEY ARE WORTH A FORTUNE, DOLORES.” “They are worth a fortune, Dolores,” he said, ‘‘but they are of very little use to you— of less use than toys toachild. The child can amuse itself with the to: but you can do nothing with the diamonds, It is not worth the trouble of wearing them when there is nobody to admire you.” “Oh, but they are very pretty,” the girl answered childishly, ‘‘ I like to have them. Perez told me that there are only abont half a dozen women in Paris who have such dia- monds and they are all great ladies, “Perez told you a lie.” her cousin answered bratally. “What of the rich Americuns, the men whose money has been made in pork or petroleum, and who give their wives dia- monds of six times the value of yours. Perez is a humbug.” He shut the case witha sharp snap. Those diamonds always mace him angry. The thought of all that money locked up in velvet and morocco, or shining upon the neck and arms ofa girl, aggravated him to madness, He was always in want of money. He had had arun of Inck on occasions and had rioted for a brief space in the possession of wealth—but it was the wealth of today, not of tomorrow. and the next turn of luck iad left him penniless, He looked at those diamonds on his cousin's neck with hungering eyes, and the thought of them haunted him in his dreams. The image of that waxen neck haunted him too.and he saw it sometimes with one cruel hand upon it, hold- ing it as an iron vice, while another hand tore off that dazzling necklace, Whose was the hand? Once in # distempered dream he saw the same fair neck streaming with blood. He hurried to the Rue St. Guillaume next morn: ing as soon as he was up and dressed, almost expecting to hear of a calamity; but nothing evil had happened. Dolores met him with a smile, surprised at such an early visit. “WHEKE DO YOU KEEP YOUR JEWELS?” “J had a horrid dream about you,” he said, and she saw that he was ghastly pale. “Where do you keep your jewels” he asked later, when they had been talking of inaifferent subjects, “Ob, that is mother’s business, She has all sorts of contrivances for taking care of them.” “I'm afraid, in spite of all her contrivances, | you'll be robbed some day,” Leon answered moodily, Yes, she would be robbed, he told himself. ulgar thief would get to know of the wealth tht was stowed away in those dull oid roots—wenlth in its most precious and_port- able form—and he. her cousin, who had such need of a share in the old financier’s spoil, would he told that those jeweis had vanished as swiftly and silently as if some wicked fairy had changed them into withered leaves, Madaine Quijada did all she could to dis- courage her nephew’s visits, but some reason, known ouly to herself. restrained her from actuaily sluitting her door against him, and Dolores always welcomed him gladly, appear how and when he might. Ii he was moody she sympathized with him, pitying griefs he did not take the trouble to explain. If he was rude she bore with his rudeness, For her he was just that one man upon earth who could do no wrong. Fate and fortune were to blame for using him badly, Love is fertile in excuses for the beloved. It was now nearly four months since she had seen him. Abrief note had told her that he was leaving Paris; that he was hkely to be a derer upon the earth, and that it might be years before they met again. She was in despair at this cruel farewell, and sent her mother to his lodgings to find out what had become of him. On her first visit Madame Quijada heard only the same statement that had been‘made to the oficer of the police, but on gomg a month later she found the nest despoiled. The law had made a clenrance of ail Monsieur Duverdier’s effects at the suit of his chief creditor, The apartment was to be iy kuew or cared what had be- te occupant. The change in Dolores after her cousin's disappearance was too obvious to escape the keen eye of Perez. He had always known that she did not care for him. He knew that he held her by the most sordid of ties- 4 her listless, weary, until lately seen her absolutely unhappy jealous suspicions were soon aroused by that inexplicable change. He suspected an intrigne of some kind, and set a private detective to watch the house in the Rue St. Guillanme; but the man discovered nothing. No suspicious person was seen to approach the house, nor did Madile. Quijada ever go out alone. He questioned her closei; He told her that he was sure she had some secret grief, and he urged her to confide in him. She protested that there nothing the matter. She was tired of Paris. Tit was all. Her life was mo- notonous euough to make any one unhappy. | He bad no need to look further for the cause of her pallor or her low spirits, “Lam going to Madrid next week, Will you go with me?” asked Perez, “Yes, shall be delighted.” Her face lighted up with pleasure. She gave her master one of those rare smiles, which re- paid him for the richest gift he could offer her. Dhe became full of lite and gayety. She was thinking that Leon had most likely gone to Madrid and that she would find him there, She could not be im the same city with him, and yet not contrive to draw him to her house, she thought. She wouid e her mother hunt him out for her, even if she her- self were allowed only to change one prison for another, Her whole manner changed. She became gay and talkative, and discussed the journey. roe soon would they start? She was dyiug g9. “You want to see your old schoolmates, I suppose,” said Perez, “to make them envious of your jewels and your beauty.” z I want to see them all again,” she relessly, But Lcannot have you gadding about Mad- rid any more than about Paris,” said Perez. “One city is almost as wicked as another.” other can goand find my old compan- they may come to see me, I suppose.” urely, Dolores, you would not receive any of your convent comrades in your position,” said her mother severely. Do you torget that to those girls— honored aud happy wives, perhaps, now—you would seenf an out- cast? They would have nothing to say to you.” Perez looked embarrassed, It was the first direct attack that Madame Quijada had ever made upon him in the guise of an mjured pa- rent. ‘he bargain he had made with her had been arranged upou purely commercial prin- ciples—honor so much—maternal affection so much—beauty so much. Even the injured feelings of the defunct Quijada, who might in some distant planet beaware of what was hap- pening here, had been considered. The sum total had been large, and Perez was therefore unprepared for an onslaught from an aggrieved mother. _ Dolores shrugged her shoulders and gave an impatient sigh. She was not endowed with fine feelings and cared very little whether the link that bound her toa master she hated was or was not sanctioned by holy church, The good opinion of the world would not compensate for an alliance with age and ughness. “Your diamonds must go to my office while and he had extorted more than one so-called joan from Madame Quijada, and had obtained several smaller sums of money, freely and gladly given, from Dolores, who’ had never been entrusted with the command of lar; means, and who dared not part with a single jewel from among Pedro Perez’s splendid gifts, ashe hada troublesome way of passing her diamonds in review every now and then. He would write to her some morning to tell her that he was going to dine with her in the evening and that he would 1ike to see her in black velvet and diamonds, and the gir! shrewdly suspected that this was only his manner of — himself that she had made away with none of hands. He had sat in eager convemplation of their pure white brightness as they lay in their before hic, assistance im certain littie investments; so} open cases on the we ure a} os suid Perez, after an embarrassed panse, have hig age ghd safes there which will accommodate all your jewel cases, 1 will take them away with me tomorrow and lock them up with my own hand.” “And what am I to wear while I am in Spain?” “Oh, you want to astonish your old friends, I suppose. Well, keep the sapphires I gave you # little while ago and a few of your sm trinkets, The diamonds must be made sec before we start. It would be dangerous travel with jewels of such value.” “Duchesses carry their diamonds every- where,” said Dolores. “And duchesses often get robbed—sometimes by their husbands, sometimes by their servants and occasionally by profé thieves. You had better tuke my advice in this matter.” Dolores submitted with an air of indifference and Perez departed, promising to fetch the jewel cases on the following day. He came and was told ill to see him. She had changed her mind. She did not care about going to Madril—the ossibility of meeting peopic who bad known er in ber innocent girlhood was hatetul to her, This was the gist of what Quijada told him, with much circumlocution. and with some tears wrung from a mothei wounded heart. ing that he listened to her reproaches *nce, aud that there was an expression tress in his withered oid face, Madame Quijada pursued the subject still further. He was bi her daughter’s heart, she told him. He could see her drooping and dving by incbes in that dismal prison house—the sense of a false ition, to a girl brought up in the convent of El Santo Corazon, was unendurabl. Diamonds were as dross, material comforts ere of no account. The blighted breath of dishonor had passed over th young life and it was slowly withering away. Perez heard and pondered. He idolized Do- lores, and there was positively no reason against his marrying her except his keen dread of ridicule, the idea of being laughed at by all Paris at the wealthy dotard with a girl wife the fear thatif she were once his wife she would insist upon flaunting her beauty in the fall glare of the wickedest city in the world, or that city which seemed so to him. “If I were to marry her she would lead me a wretched life,” he said, after some meditative pacings about the spacious salon; “she would take advantage of her power as’ a wife—she would plunge into the vortex of dissipation she would drag my name in the mud, perhaps. You have know: her long enough to know how simple her ideas are, Low easily she is contented.” “That is all very well now that she is under restraint. How can I tell what she would be if she had the authority of a wife’ “KEEP BER AS A SLAVE THEN AND LET HER FADE AND DIE.” “Keep her as a slave then, and let her fade and die. Do not reproach me when the end comes. ‘There was much more to the same purpose— and the result was total surrender upon the part of Pedro Perez. He would marry Dolores at the Mairie as soon as the law allowed. All he stipulated was that she should continue to a life remote from the crowds and amuse- ments of fashionable Paris. (To be continued.) —— 666 THINGS LEFT IN CARS, A Squalling Baby Forgotten by 1 Mother—What Happened. “It is astonishing what queer things people leave in street cars, reporter the other day. ‘Why, only a week ago a woman forgot her baby in that very seat you are occupying at this moment. She was reading an exciting novel, I jadge—I noticed when I took up her fare that the outside cover had a bright picture on it—and, though I threatened to charge 5 cents for the infant also ifit took up passenger room, she put it down by her side when I wasn’t looking and after a bit jumped off ina hurry without remember- ing the child, The car was empty and I was outon the front platform at the moment so | that I didn’t know what had happened until the woman had disuppeared, I was on my way to the Capitol and hada long ‘trip ahead before I could get buck to the stubles, The kid began to squall, and for the life of me I didn't know what to do with it. I tried to hand it over to another conductor ou a car going the opposite way, toward the stables, but he simply said: Young feller, I'm no monthly nurse.’ propped the baby up in the corner of the car aud tried every kind of persuasion to make it keep quiet. First I poked it in the ribs, but | instead of laughing it only howled loude: than aver, Then T made some nursery remarks to it, such as ‘goo, goo!’ and ‘da da! and that xort of thing; but that only seemed to make it worse. Next I shook it and made use of a little profanity, such as I thought would be ap- propriate to the occasion; but not the slightest good effect was producea, I had a notion that I might quiet it by giving it my bell | punch; but this I did not feel that I could ford to do, for other passengers were getting aboard just about that time, and I was afraid that thé infant would ring up a few dozen fares on me not accounted for by my receipts, if itshould happen unluckily to strike the combing tion.” “What on earth did you do?” asked the newspaper man. 1 tim yell. I might Maybe it was a her, have stood it, but the car was beginning to get crowded and the pas- sengers objected to the howling kid. One old duifer, with blue goggles and what [ think was an artificial nose that went on in one e with the specs, said that it was a ‘blooming outrage.’ ” -Condu ctor,’ says he angrily, ‘who owns “Don’t know,” says I. him im the car.” “Nothing more was said for two or three minutes, but then the intant came out with a ‘Lady forg ot and left } Squall that sounded like seventeen cats in Lorus on a back fence. A sour-looking old aid in a green dress and a bonnet with a bird on itnearly as bigasahen half jamped up from her seat and said, shaking her finger at me: “Conductor, did you that baby as a passe “Yes, Ma'am, I s’pose I did,’ says I. or did you not accept “Then,” says she, ‘you are responsible for it | and must take care of it. ‘The cid must not be permitted to go on screaming in that way without attention, I think that it might be quieted and even soothed to slumber if you would walk it up and down the car for maybe half an hour.’ “Get off and buy it a nursing bottle full of milk. und don’t forget to make it haif warm water,’ suggested & fatand inotherly old woman who sat opposite the kid. But a dissipated looking mau with a red nose anda beard hike a goat's had a better plan. Says he: Take it out on the back platform and spank it.” “By this time I was feeling all broken up. I never have been very fond of children, but it seemed to me then that [ sympathized thor- oughly with the custom that I've heard used to bles in Asia of feeding babies to the croco- iles, I never was so glad of auything in my jife as I was to land the infant, which at that moment fell asleep and stopped yelling for the first time, at the car stables. The mother—for stich she was—had got there before me and she did some weeping on her own account at find- ing her offspring again.” “What other queer things do people leave in the cars?” “Lots of them,” replied the conductor. “Such as typewriters, coffin fixtures and eggs. One man left the same basket containing four dozen eggs in cars on our line three times during the same day and got them back every time. Most plentiful among thit forgotten are umbrellas, and next come bundles in point of number. A great many eye glasses, keys and pocket books are found by the conductors, also no end of fans in the warm season, canes and odd gloves for the right hand, It is the fashion. you know, to only wear the left glove and carry the righs ‘one; in that way the right ones are’ dropped. If they had all been kept there would now be a good-sized clothes basket full of right-hand gloves at the stables. Overcoats are often for- gotten, The things that are at all valuable are mostly reclaimed; such things as are not called for are kept for three months and then given to the conductors who found them.” adiisaceaternt cen vi While John Deutsch, thirteen years of age, living at No, 205 Parkin street, was eating din- ner Thureday his tongue became fastened to the mouth of a flask from which he was drink- ing coffee. Efforts to release the tongue were in vain, and a half dozen persons attempted to pull the flask away, but had to desist from fear of tearing out the boy's He was finally taken to the Maryland University Hos- where the doctors succeeded in ridding of the canteen, a The Pe Ivania railroad statement of earnings for shows an increuse in net of $58,000, and there was a satis- on the western lines, jas, G. Mason, rector of St. Frederi & saida conductor to a Star | . THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C., SATURDAY, APRIL 26, 1890-SIXTEEN PAGES. CROWS AND THEIR FUNNY WAYS. Probably the Most Remarkabie of All the Birds We Know. SOMETHING ABOUT THE GREAT ROOST OVER aT AKLINGTON—POSSIBLY 50).000 BIRDS PRRCHING TOORTHER THERE NOW—THEIR HABITS AND SOME HINTS ABOUT THEIR VIRTUES AND VICES— ‘NATURAL CONVERSATIONALISTS. O you see those crows flying over- head?” asked the ornithological sharp, pointing to the Loavens, Tee Stan contributor turned his gaze skyward and beheld flock after flock of the birds coming from the east and winging their way across the city of Wash- ington high in the air. “They are coming home to bed at their great roost in Arlington. That is one of the great perching places for crows in the country, you know. Another such is found near Baltimore, about four miles out from the city, and there are others still near St. Lonis, at Lancaster, Pa., in Jessamine county, Ky. and at Reedy Island, in the Susquehanna, A big one also is in Nebraska—I can’t quite remember where— and there are more in various parts of the country not yet heard from, though all are Within the limits of a belt 100 miles north and 100 miles south of a line that might be drawn across the continent through Washington aud St. Louis.” A CROWS BY MYRIADS. “How many crows roost at Arlington?” “People usually say millions; but there is a natural tendency to exaggerate in such matters. | I should say that there were fewer than 500,000—it takes a goodly number of crows to | make that many. You eee it is rather difficult tocount them. You can’t very well reckon them while they are flying and if you ap- proach them at night they will be frightened and leave precipitately. ‘All sorts of methods have been tried, even to firing a canuon loaded with bird shot into the roost with a view to picking up the dead within the range of fire and basing a calculation upon the resuit. The Johns Hopkins expert who investigated the Baltimore roost a while ago determined that there were between 250,000 and 500,000 crows there by counting small measured but the weak point of his estimate came in with the guess he had to make at the number of birds on each tree. Some day pho- tographs will be taken of the roost at Arling- ton at night by flash-lights, which would seem to be the only promising pian. Our great local crow roost is a movable affair to a certain ex- tent, having altered ite position during the last few years from point to point all the way be- tween Great Falls and Mount Vernon, Last year it was situated entirely within the limits of the National Cemetery, covering an area of U acres. When I visited it then the trees over the whole of thatspace and the ground be- neath were whitened with the droppings of the birds, The authorities in charge tried to drive them out, but without the slightest ef- fect.” HABITS OF TRE BIRDS, “Why do the birds gather in such a great assemblage for roosting?” “That is one thing that nobody has ever been able to find out. It has been suggested that in some time long ago they had some object in doing so which no longer exists, and that the habit thus formed has been perpetuated | through the operation of the instinct which is only a vulgar term for inherited experience. But my own opinion is that this is not the true reason, At all events, the custom of the | crows is to leave the roost at d: | after every morning. Sunday d. and | take flignt in flocks to all the points of the com- pass toward their feeding grounds, which often are 100 miies distant. Those birds you flying overhead are returning from their d work along the Chesapeake and its tributaries Which afford admiral! forage im winter, the | water continually washing up what they most enjoy—small crabs, shrimps, shell fish, dead fish and all such things, not to mention SLUGS AND BUGS AND SOFT CLAMS, ETC. With their stomachs crammed full of delicacies like these, they are going home to the roost, where they will meet the flocks returning from up the Potomac and down the Potomac as well as trom the west and elsewhere. For ali that oue can tell, the flocks may take turns in it g this ieeding ground and that; but it be rather difficnlt to prove that such case owing to the very striking likeness one crow bears toevery other. Ar- riving near the roosting place about nightfall thay gather about in crowds, for a prayer meet- ing possibly, before going to bed. I ave my- self seen at such a time of day as many as 100,000 on Anaiostan Island alone. Finally, as if at a given signal, they all rise ap with a whire | and tlock over tu the big bare hill a mile away, wire they fill their stomachs as much fuller a8 is possible with gravel, for purposes of digestion during sleep. Then ‘they go to perch on the | trees by countless myrti Often crows will reach their perching places so exhausted by their long journeys from the feeding grounds as to fali upon the ground helpless, so that they y picked up, But not. under the | t circumstances will they fail to | homeward trip, though ver likely, as is tho case today, they must trav. under dificulties against a strong head wind.” MIGRATION AND FOOD. “Where does the crow belong?” “All over this country the bird is found, save only in certain arid regions of the southwest, It has two migrations yearly, going north i summer and south in wi but these move- m rked as in the case of other feathered species. I have seen during the win- ter in Patagonia birds that are familiar sur mer residents of New England. Crows, how- ever, have merely a general tendency south | and north, those which leave the roost here about the middie of Apri’ being succeeded by | another batch from the lower tier of states. Of the crow iamily in this country there are the raven, the common crow, the fish crow, the magpie and the jays.” Whai do crows verything. The crow is one of the most omnivorous of birds. Like many other winged flesh eaters, it has a convenient power of swallowing food and subsequently expelling throngh the mouth whatever parts of it have not been digested, in the shape of hard pellets, Ihave at present a crow ina big cage, which I feed with mice sometimes, I the bird is in haste, through fear or hunger. 1t will very likely swallow the mouse whole, choking up and ejecting from its beak the bones and hair within as short a time 2s, maybe, two hours. in crows’ stomachs I have found carrion and r% mains of mice. snakes. frogs, ish, crabs, clams, snails, insects, spiders and one centipede. ‘They are fond of young terrapin, woo. I re- ember a hill in Sumter county, Ga.. tha: when I saw it, was almost covered with the REMAINS OF SMALL TERRAPINS, which had been killed there and been de- voured by crows, These birds have a very curious wey in the spring, betore the snow is off the ground, of hunting for field mice, of which } they are extremely fond. The mice build | their nests under the snow, and the warmth of their bodies and that of the young meits it around them, so that finally there appears a | hole in the snow crust. The crows fly about | looking for these holes, and when they find one they tear out the nest and eat the contents, ‘They devour more young chickens than are consumed by hawks; but perhaps the most se- rious indictment against them 1s that they eat the young and the eggs of many birds which are themselves devourers of objectionable in- | venture. | necessary information to proceed on their | Writtea for Tar nese Stan HOW CROOK WAS CAPTURED. The Story of a Daring Raid Made bya Company of Confederate Troopers. FIER the first great shock at the announcement of the death of the great Indian fighter, Gen. Crook, the most prominent incidents of bis life recur for general admiration, and, perhaps, there is none of the minor epi- sodes in his varied experience fuller of pleasing © reminiscences than that remarkable surprise | practiced upon Gens. Kelly ana Cvook daring the late war by a detachment of McNeill’s Rangers. These Officers were in command of the Federal forces in that department of the valley of the Shenandosh having headquarters at Cumberland, Md.. whose main object was to Protect the Baltimore aud Ohio railroad and Chesapeake and Ohio capal, and to keep in subjection that portion of Western Virginia in- fested by independent and predatory confed- erate organizations, [t was during this time of his occupancy of Cumberlaud that Gen. Crook while engaged with his military duties was at the same time laying siege to the heart of the fair lady, the daughter of the proprietor of the hotel at which he bad established his military headquarters, and whom he afterward led captive to the hymeneal altar. This little coup de main was one of those instances where it was rather the eclat for strategy than sectional animosity that prompted the enterprise, aud the fact that the brother of the general's fair inamorata was one of the party engaged in this contretemps adds some- what tothe romance of the incident. The story has been recited before by one of th sensational writers so prolific just after the war, but its rendition has been repudiatad as being incorrect by those eugaged im the ad- The following account is historically correct, the notes and data for which were fur- nished personally by the parties who planned and executed the raid aud capture, THE PLAN CONCKIVED, During the latter part of the month of Feb- ruary, 1865, while Lieut, Jesse McNeill was sta: ing at the residence of a friend near the camp of the Rangers, in the South Branch valley, conceived the idea of adaring attempt uj Cumberland, the object of which was to cap- ture and abduct the commanding officers quar- tered there. He first confided his project to John Fay, a dashing cavalier and bold partisan, whose hearty concurrence wns readily assured. It was agreed that the object of the expedition was to be kept entirely secret, while Fay was to start off on au inde an accurate account 0: and officers in and around Cumberland. the meantime McNeill was to have in readiness all of the best mounted of the company atsome int designated on the South Branch above jomney to march ata moment's notice. Fay and one companion, Ritchie Haller. a gallant member of the company from Missouri, after scouting with great caution down the lower valley and crossing the mountain by bridle paths, reached a point on the railroad about live miles above Cumberland. On the oppo- site bank of the river was the cabin of an Irish- man known to the Rangers as asouthern sym- pathizer and from whom on former occasion! they had gained valuable information. They crossed over the river, which was then the Rubicon between the two gov- ernments, and, after tl their haif-frozen | limbs before the cheerful fire of their Celtic | friend, contided to him the object of their visit and reguested his co-operation in maturing their plans. With the characteristic zeal of his race he not only entered heartily into the plan, but voluntered to obtain direct from Cumberland the most minute information necessary for the success of the expedition, After thus satisfactorily arranging in detail for the appearance of the troop on a certain day specified, Fay and Haller retarned to the South ranch, and reached in safety Vanse Herriott’s, ® famous rendezvous for confederates, near Romney, when Haller was dispatched to Me- Neiil with the request to march his command rapidiy to that place, whence they would im- mediately start on the expedition, ORGANIZING THE EXPEDITION, McNeill arrived promptly at Herriott's on time with sixty-five men weli mounted. A number of these men belonged to Gen. Rosser's brigade and were at this time on farloug They joined the expedition as McNeil! passed down the valley. Receiving «minute account from Fay of the arrangement with the Irish | watchinan the lieutenant at once started his | command on the march toward Cumberland, | about twenty miles distant. They passed over Middle Ridge to Patterson's creek and then wound their course through the ridges to a! road running along the base of Knobiy moun- tain, thence through one of its gaps, toiling through snow and over steep hills covered with a coating of ice until they reached the summit of the mountain overlooking the Povo- mac and the Marylaud bottom lands beyonJ. Here the party forded the river and proceeded direct to the cabin of the Irish watchmen on the railroad, where tuey were furnished all march. The first picket post they encountered | was located at the mouth of a ravine near the railroad, a few miles from the cabin of their friend. MeNeili, Fay. Kuyken and Van- diver rode a short distance ahead as advance guard and a solitary picket halted them as they approached, CAPTURING PICKETS. ‘The usual challenge passed, but McNeill, dis. regarding the latter part of the formality, put spurs to his horse and ‘dashed forward and fired his pistol in the face of the picket, which had the effect of dumbfi ding him for the | moment, when the advance of the raiders se- cured him aud two other cavalrymen who were | lying under a little sheiter bet a smoulder- ing fire. This picket belonged y third Ohio cavalry (Gen. Crook from whom it was learned tha’ was the watch word of the night. picket was encountered about one mile from Cumberland, and were quartered in a little shed-like structure, and were reposing around acheertul fire. As the raiders approached one of the guard very leisurely took up his gun, and, moving out from the light of the tire, cried: “Halt; who cones there’ “Friends with the countersign.” replied the advance, Instead of obeying the subsequent demands of the picket the party kep slowly advancing, aud in order to deceive the picket, one of the angers would shout in mock seriousness: Don’t crowd up, men; wait until we give the countersign.” in the next moment the duped sentinel was seized, the post surrounded and the party moved safely on toward the city. The several duties to be performed were now as- signed to the repective parties. SURPRISING THE TWO GENERALS. One party of ten men, with Kuykendall as chiet, were to secure Geu. Kelley, at the St. Nicholas Hotel; Vandiver and others, with Daily, whose father was proprietor, were to proceed to the Kevier House, to secure the person of Gen. Crook, who held his head- quarters at that house. The hotels occupied by the two generals were at the upper end of Baltimore street, near the railroad, over | which trains were then passing. The rangers | rode carelessly along, some of them whistling or humming such of the patriotic airs as they had caught up from prisoners, while others would ask unimportant questions from soldiers or citizens who happened to be on the street sects. Hens’ eggs, too, they will gobble if they getachance. Farmers vbject to them most because they pull up the new-born shoots of corn and other grain and eat the seeds at the end, which are soft and moist and palatable. the crow is altogether a bad character? “No, that would be doing him an injustice, He serves as a scavenger, consuming carrion, and also he eats many undesirable insects, It is true that he also eats some beneficial insects; but they are mostly small and hardiy worth his while to pick up, while the big ones that he oes for are usually of the injurious sorts. By the term beneficial insect I refer to such @ one as the ichnoumon fly, which destroys the hurtful caterpillar by laying its eggs in the cat- erpillar’s body. The eggs germinate, the young feed upor the caterpillar and THR UNFORTUNATE CRAWLER DIES, After awhile all the caterpillars are wiped out in this way and they do not Keappear for years, but when they do come back their old enemy the fly is sure to be on hana also and business is begun over again. If it was not for the fly there would bea plague of caterpillars. But the question as to the usefulness or the injuri- ousness of the crow has not been settled yet. So far as the investigations now beimg con- ducted at the Agricultural Department have shown the balance seems to be against Mr. Corvus; but the verdict has bal — — and enough ‘ may yet e reverse present 4) ances. Itis undeniable that his ‘moral shar acter is not first-rate. He is very fond, when made a pet of, of stealing such things as ee. elry, silver spoons, &c., and hiding them. You remember that was what the famous jackdaw of Rheims did with the cardinal’s at the time. The party assigned to take Gen. Kelly, at the St. Nicholas, were successful with- out making any alarm, and, in the meantime, the company had moved up near to the depot, in front of the Revier House, and th detail dismounted and eu Gen! Crook's apartments. Fay, who had been assigned ‘the work of eu! aot feat of entering the headquarters and carrying off the two geuerals was successfully accom- plished and the whole column of confederates were moving down Baltimore street toward the suburbs of the city, and then. hastily pass- ing down Canal street, —, — the _ th of the omee Pee al canal, but Fea nos provesde far before they encountered a picket of about fifteen men, who were sur- rounded and surrendered without resistance, At the bridge across the canal, under which the company was to pass, a picket ordered a halt, but with the greatest sang froid he was answered with: ‘Can't stop; we're company D, third Ohio cavalry, Gen. Crook's body- guard, going out on scout; the rebels are com- 1Dg we're going out to meet them.” “All right, go aheol antl give the Johnnies h—i,” was the satisfied reply. minutes more the raiders had passed the ing gaily down to the ford, were soon safely across otomac, back garrisoned by *0 laree a foree an} surprise the guarted headquarters and carry off as prisoners the commanding officers by so smali a detach= Meat excited the wonder of the hour. During the following day the raiders discow ered that they were ! wold battalion, but the raiders taking @ secret path through the ridges, with which they were so familiar, escaped with their prisoners, Rapidly crossing the mountains iuto the main § ioab valley they turned their prisoners, including the two distinguished generals and Maj. Thayer Melvin, adjutant’ general to Gen. Kelly, over to Gen. Jubal Early, then in of the forces in the Shenandoab valley, I8.T. 5 — THE CONDUCTOW [WwW OF IT, Experiences on @ Street Car That Have Made Him a Woman Hater. THE WAYS OF THE Fark A PHILOSOPHER OF THE BELL PONCH—srONS OF MATRIMONIAL INTENTEC TBE ATTITODS OF WOMEN TOWARD STREET CARS ax cone bouctors. NPS AS OPSERVED BT xs ARRIED! Me Well, I shoul@ say not. I'm « woman hater, that's whatiam, Th as not the ghost of great philosopher talking, bat simply a very obliging conduc- tor on one of the cars. Tae Stan re- Porter won't give his number, as he may re- peut some day. and it would not do to have bis remarks thrown up to him through possibly @ long and happy married life. “Women are women, I suppose the knight of the bell punch. “and I recko that explains everything. You can't expect any great shakes of a class of humanity that makes a lunch off of an ice cream soda and the same afternoon buys a €40 bonnet, for which the suffering husband getea bill the next day.” The couductor seemed to derive intense en- joyment out of his remarks on women, for a@ ¢ reflectively hed his slip twice for three fares he remarked come to him bya flash of inspiration there is no doubt about it, women are we A CASE UNDER HIS INMEDIATE OBSERVATION, Fall concurrence having been expressed im these sentiments, he proceeded to still further unburden his suffering soul. “Why, young feller, I've seen enough of women right on thie ear to turn my raven locks white without the misery of marrying one. to have ber goin around telling the neignbors what a lucky m: I am to have her to take care of me. Why there's my driver up, th sepulchre Whited ‘sep too. He darse in the face, and bus only n married two months, He don't take no interest im anything any more, Cursing his horses has lost all ite charms for him, and | haven't a word against the zi weeks, what it It’s enough to make « man lose his faith in human pasture and all that Why that men used tobe aschirpy as @ cricket. He'd sing and whistle and cuss the compsny and his horses and the public and things im general until it would do your heart good to hear bi any continued a but women was his ruin. He pever coul realize the terrible amount of mischief contained in = Woman at man in his public capacity should, Strange and disgusting as it may seem Ihave often heard that misguided man say “Womem was angels.’ Tha his very expressio “Women was angels.’ I wrote itdown at asan example of the depths to which ople could fall, but alt wed now and isa whited sepulchre, outside bus caim boiling within, You uever hear Lim mentioning , women now. Acold shiver trots slowly down h back wher e eof the sex bail the car. He thinks it's her and he’s right, too. Why blast me if that woman, his wite, mind you, didn’t hail the car coming down Capitol Hill one day, where We could not stop if we had had ten brakes, and blamed if that augel didu't atthe company’s office. I was disgusted, but what can you expect, women and will be as long n inscrutable Providence allows them to exist. Why Billy, that’s the name of the poor deceived chap on the front platform, used to be always wanting to get off for a day and he'd have Teal good time on the riv you don't see Billy more. if it’s cold, bi form, He knows things will or somewhere, bi to get off any yon the plat- jot for hima he likewise ie better satisiied at work. The coldness wh congeals around him athome could be With a pick. She is worser than the averag: woman, as there are grades in Women just as there is in quinine and stryel 1 some t at home, and if itis warm, w 1 Jare sensible on nearly every subjec as the attendant said “to th visitor at the insane asylnm. But take them as a whole. Why women are women,” snd onr philosopher pulled the strap for a young lady who had let the car gos quarter of a square past ber before sigualing, and now calmly aud gracefully walked to- ward us. SIGXS OF MATRIMONIAL INTENTIONS. “What special instances of depravity in the sex have I seen? Now look here, young fellow, youare not thinking of getting marri u? No, well I'm glad to hear it, m2 were not in for it yet, as vou baven't th uneasy side glance as if you were something to be thrown at your | you've got one of the signs, t buttons off your coat. Now an uume ried man “has # solemn duty perform. He should set an example to the veneration by always having his buttons e' on and showing the difference betw himself and a married man. Now there's B: up in front Why, bless don't know any more what hasn't got two buttons on al us He Sticks and shoe strings and things. Aud Biily used to be that neat; but this thing of getting married is like opium eating. Once let it master you and all your self-respect’s gone aud you don’t care a cuss whether you tie your vest on with a shoe string or not, A WOMAN ON A CAR. “Now it's this way with women. A womap can be irritating anywhere, but she’s bound to be so on a car, and if you dou't humor hershe will report you. “A woman will stand onacorner and gaz append up atthe sky until the car gets @ alf asquare pasther and then yell hke @ steam whistle until you stop, after which all her interest in the sky will return and she will walk Jeisurely up to the car—and report you, Four women wil! take up one side of a car and teu people may hang to the straps, but never a female will move up. Acar may stop on @ corner and a woman live two doors beyond, but the car's got to stop again directly in frou® of ber door, and if she's carried two doors be+ yond-—why she reports you, If “somebody doesn't give a womana seat ag soon asshe gets on a car she’s mad. Now pleased woman is no snap on # car, but # ma woman is worse than a western cyc! You ©. | may as well make up your mind you'll get re- ported for something. “A woman's mind never grasps the idea th: scar is run ou time, and if the time is m made, the driver or conductor gets fined of lai off. Their sole purpose in life seems to be te get cars behind hand,” But Tux Sran reporter had reached hie destimation and dropped off, and as the car went jingling up the street, the last words came floating back, ‘Now, yout feller, you paste the motto in your hat, for its true, “women are women.” Sibi They Have Caught Their Whales. Mrs. Charles F. Livermore of New York, @ well-known social leader there andat Newport, is to be married in Paris next week to Barom Raymond Seilliere. The baron is well knowm in Washington. He is a tali, slender man, with a dark complexion. In 1887 he went to Pari with Count Sala of the French legation at Wash- Sra '3. c. a Rape! cpt my emtone f a cousin morganatie widow of the murdered Czar of Russia, Mra, Ayer is a millionaire and hasa fine house om Sth avenue. eee His Honor’s Time Was Precious. From the Atlanta Constitution. ing tried before him, aud when that had been concluded one of the lawyers arose to make @ speech in ft front of