Evening Star Newspaper, May 10, 1890, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C., SATURDAY, MAY 10 1890—SIXTEEN PAGES, ‘Written for Taz Evewrso stan. BY MISS BRADDON. Author of “Lady Audley's Secret.” “Like and Unlike,” “Inhmael,” “The Day Will Come,” deo. L4LL RIGHTS RESERVED) wd CHAPTER XXV. DAISY'S DIARY IX JOT, AM engaged to Gilbert Florestan. At last I understand what it is to be an engaged girl, and henceforth I shall be able to sympathize with every engaged girl in the world, for now I know what love means. I know that it means everything. What will Cyril think, down at the bottom of this round globe, when he hears ‘that Gilbert | and I are to be married on the first day of the | new year? What can he think, except that I | am the lightest and most contemptible young woman he ever had the misfortune to count | among his acquaintances. Beatrice Reardon has been very nice to me. Bhe says that I have nothing to be ashamed about in the transaction. It is customary. It is, one may say, a rule of the game. A girl who has the slightest self-respect will get engaged within s week after the parting, even if she bas to marry a chimney sweep. I meant to write everything in inthis diary. I meant the story of my life to be complete; and yetIam going to leave one little blank, which represents the crisis of my existence. I cannot write the mode and manner of my engagement; that sudden passage from liberty to bondage, when he took me in his arms, in the arbor where we once were so miserable, and called me “wife.” Wife, as if we were married already. I cannot write of his kisses, or count them as if they were pounds, shillings and pence in the housekeeper's book. I cannot write all the sweet foolishness of his talk, the undeserved praises, the intoxicating flatteries, which he rotested were not flatteries. He talked and listened and we were engaged. That is my only record. On the same evening, however, we had a very serious conversation on the terrace after dinner. Mother was in her favorite seat by the drawing-room window. Uncle Ambrose was pacing the room. We couldsee them both in the lamplight as we walked slowly up and wn. We talked of the moon a little, and he quoted Shelley, whom he knows aa well as if he had competed for one of Mrs, Crawshay’s prizes; and then I ventured to ask him a question which had been burning my tongue ever since we were engaged, just four hours and a half. Jt was wonderful what those four hours had done for me. I fe!t as much at my ease with him as if I had been engaged for three weeks, and I began to understand the cool audacity of girls who send their fiances on messages and make light of them in company, and the free and easy manners of the motherly girls who mend their sweethearts’ gloves, and scold them for spilling things on their waistcoats, and put diachylum plaister on their wounds, “Will you be very angry if I ask you a ques- tion?” I asked. should be angry if you wished to ask me anything and didn’t’, said he. “Being your slave, what should I do—” “Please don't,” Icried. ‘Cyril quoted that sonnet once and I was quite rude to him about it, Ishonldn’t like you to quote anything | second-hand. Yet it is a lovely sonnet, isn't it?” I added apologetically, for the line sounded sweet from him. Cyril was not in touch with my ideas about Shakespeare.” He laughed and answered with a most unneces- sary kiss. You really wouldn't mind?” I asked. ‘From those lips all words are dear.” “Were you ever in love with anybody be- fore you began to care for me?” “Ah, I thought that question would come. Shall 1 answer it Jesuitically or honestly?” “Oh, honestly, please; be brutal to me rather than dishonest. Of course Iam prepared for the worst. You must have adored ever so many girls before you came to let your glances light upon insignificant me. “Ever so many? That large order. Sup- pore I plead guilty to two. I wish I had never oked ata woman, or at least never wasted a thought upon one till lsaw you. I shouldn’t if I bad only known what was coming.” “Do you really think Iam as nice as the * other two?” I asked, comforted by those sweet words. “I think you are to them asa wild rose on a hedge in the dewy morning compared with a double dablia in the heat and dust and glare of tent No. 2at a flower show. You are as the freshness of the morning, and they smelt of gas. The first could not help that, poor soul, for it was across the footlights my heart went out to her. “Was she very pretty?” I asked. ‘She was very pretty. That was just fifteeen me ago, mari you, when I was at Eton. She very pretty at this present hour; she will go on being very pretty. I hope, till the end of the century. She is a burlesque actress, and I saw her in the daintiest little villager’s dress you ean conceive, dancing as lightly as a real fairy, | and not a stage one. Yes, Daisy,” he said | gravely, “I plead guilty to being over head and ears in love with Miss Millicent Melville of the Hilarity fifteen years ago, for the whole space of the Christmas holidays. I was stone-broke for her sake, and spent all my tips upon thea- ter tickets, hot house flowers and chocolate caramels. I delivered the flowers and the cara- mels to the surly stage doorkeeper, who may have sold them to the minor members of the woupe for aughtI know. I never got specch of my houri, and I was heart-broken when I discovered, upon unimpeachable authority, that she had a husband and five children. How ehe did it—how she looked so lovely and sylph- like and cbildishly innocent, with an eating and drinking, smoking and swearing man and five brates to work for I have never been able to un- derstand.” “Was she number one?” I asked, “Yes, she was number one.” “In that case I forgive you your first love. | And now tell me about your second.” “That is a graver case. Daisy. {[ cannot make light of that infatuation. Cupid did not Qssail me with paper pellets that time. His arrows were barbed and the barbs were poi- soned. I loved a woman wlio was unworthy of my love, Daisy. I passed through the scath- ing fire of a wasted passion” “You loved her as well as you love me?” I d, feeling just as if I had dropped froma adise in yonder moon down to a hard, Gruel earth, All my gladness igh. I felt sure he Ta afraid Y “T'm afraid I must plead guilty to havin; loved her very dearly while my love lasted” Daisy; but the cure was clean cure. There perished in one gasping ad cared more for her was notso much asascar left from the old/ wound by the time I met you in Paris; and from that hour I was yours and yours only “And if [had not broken with Cyril” what would you have done’ “Lived on my roaming, desultory life and suffered the dull agony of an empty heart.” “Were you really unhappy in Scotland in spite of grouse and eapper-cailzies and things.” “In spite of as fine @ stag as was ever stalked. which this hand slew the day before I casually heard that Arden hadsailed in the big new ship for Colombo.” “And would you not have found some new Givinity before Christmas?” I could not but feel that it wasnice of him to tell me the truth, even at the risk of offending me for life. about that second flame of yours,” onized with curiosity. “Was she very ‘She was splendidly handsome, a woman | whose diamonds seemed more brilliant than | those of other women, because they go harmon- | ized with her bold, bright beauty. I was among | many worshippers. and I happened to be the | Rost eligible Pf her adorers from a matri- jonial point of view and so she w: ci fo me and so I was her slave——* OS — jut your” I asked. for there was a rness in his tone whic Gear creature had treated hisn atic ine "Be I couid have hugged her for it, Vell, it was hardly a case of jilting. were _to write my story I should call the book usion and Disillusion.’ 1 was fortunate enough to find her out—before marriage in. stead of afterward. My innocent little Daisy can hardly guess what a world of misery that discovery saved me.” “I don't it to guess,” I said, «by one thing I should like to know, Gilbert se I blushed in the moonlight, and trembled at my own audacity as I pronounced his Christian bame. had my arm through his and found myself ving his arm a gentle squeeze now and then it to make sure that he was real and that all ecstasy of this hour was not a moonlit, as many questions as you like, fai Fatima. “There is no blue chamber in my thee ory of which you may not open the door. “It does not pain you tospeak of that wicked son? him abominably, | If! | die all at once, or by inches WHOSE WAS THE. HAND? | strong motive for finding your father’s mu “Not a whit. No more than it would pain $e talk of Cleopatra,” pe “But at the time of your disillusion—did love “Love died in an hour; but there was some- thing, the shadowand memory and aftertaste of passion which was plagufly long a dying.” “Is it dead yet?” I asked, frightened. “Dead as a doornail. Dead as Scrooge’s part- ner, old Marley; deader, for no ghost of that vanished feeling will ever haunt me. I was heart-whole, sound as a roach the night I met you at the grand opera, and from that night I Was your slave.” “Oh, that is nonsense,” cried I; “you could not have cared for me all at once, a common- place English person like me. What was there in my poor face to catch your eye?” “Innocence, trut, candor. The virtues which make man’s life blessed and honorabh I saw poetic ioveliness, and through — thi transparent beauty I saw the true and pure heart of girlhood, a heart of virgin gold, flaw- less, above price.” “Don't, don’t.” I cried, standing on tiptoe to put my hand upon his lips. 18 last illusion 1s worse than the firstand second. HowcanI ever live up to such an ideal as you have made out of me? ‘Only love me, Daisy; there is no more to lo. “Oh, that comes too easy. I did that before I was asked.” Mother's voice calling us from the open win- dow put an end to our confidential talk, but my heart was quite at ease now that I knew the history of his earlier loves. If be had told me he had never been in love before he saw me I should certainly not have believed him, and I should have been tortured for all the years to come by inextinguishable distrust. All this happened nearly a month ago, though I couldn't bring myself to write about it before today; and perhaps I should not be writing now if Gilbert had uot been obliged to go to London to see his solicitor—our firet part- ing—leaving me to get through the day some- how without him. The grounds look so dreary, the shrubberies seem so empty—and oh, what ages to 8 o'clock dinner, when he will be back. CHAPTER XXVL DAISY’s DIARY IN SORROW. When I wrote the last line in this book I think I must have been the happiest girl in the world. There was hardly a cloud upon my sky—yes, one cloud, the fact that the man whom I thought my friend and benefactor was out of health and unhappy. Yet in spite of that one cloud I was utterly happy, selfishly absorbed in my new happiness, ‘Today I take up my pen in fear and trem- bling. A dark and terrible cloud has closed over my life. I thank God that cloud does not rest upon my lover'’shead. I must think of others now. This dark discovery forces my thoughts mto other grooves. 1 must remember that lam my mother’s daughter as well as Gilbert's aftianced wife. Oh, it is all so sad, so awful, such a cruel rev- elation, changing the whole color of life, strip- ping off the mask from a face that was once honored and_belo opening a deep well of baseness and iniquity in the flowery garden- world where I was so happy. Sometimes, for a few moments, I doubt, and ask myself if I am not deluded, if that hideous suspicion which grew in an hour into absolute conviction might not after all be groundless— and then I go over the facts slowly, in eold blood, one by one, slowly putting them to- gether again like the pieces in a puzzle, and there the awful fact appears in unmistakable certainty. Oh, father, father, how that trusting, open nature, that generous heart of yours was cheated! How coldly, deliberately, and heart- lessly your life was plotted away by the man who sat at your table, and smiled beside your hearth, and was to you almost asa brother. It was your own familiar friend who planned your murder. I must go back to the moment when this hideous secret revealed itself. It was natural that as Gilbert's fiance I should tell him every- thing that had happened to me in all my life, and indeed I fear that I must have bored him terribly since we were engaged by prattling to him about every insignificant detail of my colorless existence. ‘Two days ago he came into the drawing room just as it was growing dusk. He had been to ‘London again and we had had another parting aud I had felt very mopy all the afternoon. did not expect to see Gilbert until dinner ume, and oh, how my foolish heart thrilled with delight when I heard his step in the hall just after the clock struck five. It is not very often that I have the privilege of making tea for Gilbert, and on this occasion Tam sorry to say 1 made itso strong that it was hardly drinkable. Isaw he madea wry face at every sip—though he declared it was quite the nicest tea he had ever tasted. Hlow gay we were as we sat and talked and laughed in the growing dusk. How proud I felt of my lover and how blessed in the assur- ance that he was all my own; that I had left no corner of his heart unexplored, no secret hidden from my prying eyes. We talked and taiked, not from grave to gay, but from gay to grave; and presently I told my dearest the single secret of my life, the one act of mine which I had hidden from the best of mothers. I told him how, when I first went to London, Iwas haunted by the ghastly vision of my father’s murder, and how a morbid longing to see the room where that dark deed was done took possession of my mind and would not be driven away. I told him how I crept out of the house in the summer twilight and every step in that dismal pilgrimage till I came to Church street on my way h and then I told him of that intolerable Freachman’s insolence and of the good soul in the hansom, to whom I should so like to leave a legacy when I am old enough to make a will, if I only knew his honorable name. “I know my enemy's name well enough,” said I, “for, as the cab was driving off with me, his friends called out to him, ‘Hola, Duver- er.” “DUVERDIER,” CRIED GILBERT. “Duverdier!” cried Gilbert, starting as if he had been shot. “Great God in heaven! Why, that is the name of the man I believe to be your father’s murderer!” In the next instant he seemed to regret hav- ing spoken, but I would not let him take back his words. ' I made him tell me all he knew or thought or suspected about my fatner's cruel death; and stage by stage I got the whole story out of him. It was slow work, for he was sorely disinclined to tell me anything. ‘ow that I know something I must know all,” I said, when he refused to answer my questions; and x0, little by little, I heard the whole story. My mother had asked him to help her in tracing out a girl whom my father admired and had half a mind to marry before he had even seen mother’s face. She appealed to Gilbert, counting on his knowledge of Parisian life, and he had succeeded beyond his hopes up to acer- tain stage; but just as he had put his hand, asit were, upon the brother of this French woman, whom he believed to be the so-called wate maker in Denmark street, the maa left Paris, leaving no clue to his destination, “Icould dono more than leave the case in the hands of the Parisian police, who have a derer if he is above ground,” said Gilbert. “Of course my reasons for believing this to be the man are in a measure conjectural, but the cir- cumstantial evidence is strong. The man who murdered your father was a man who knew the story of your father’s youthful love affair, and was able to use the French milliner's name as adecoy. It is known that Morel was in Lon- don with other communists at the time of the wurder; it is known that he was heard of at Madrid soon after the murder and that he was then flush of money. For my own satisfaction L have convincing proof that this Duverdier is the man Claude Morel, but it is not such proof as could be produced in a court of justice, ‘The evidence that convinced me was the evi- dence of a woman's face.” And then he told me how he had met Morel’s sister and had taxed her with her identity with the girl whom my father once loved. Her emotion at the sound of my father’s name was pitiable; her agitation when he accused her brother of the murder was terrible. After that interview he had no doubt as to the guilt of the man now known as Leon Duverdier. “The one missing link in the chain of evi- dence is the means by which the knowledge of your father’s movements on that fatal day was transmitted to the murderer. He must ha‘ had an informant, if not an accomplice, eithér in the immediate vicinity of this house or in the lawyer's office, where the hour and the nature of appointment may have been known to the clerks.” darkness which hid my face from him. I was 5 oes that I had deferred the lighting of the ps, so a8 to prolong our blind man's holi-— day. ‘Isat silent, motionless, paralyzed by the horrible suspicion which filled my mind, “I SAT MOTIONLESS.” Some one at Lamford must have given the information that enabled the murderer to plan his crime. Who could that some one be unless it wore the familiar friend, the confidant of every enterprise and every idea of my father and mother? My mother has told me in an- swer to my questions that no servant in the house knew where my father was going or what he was going to do on that day. The conver- sation at dinner on the previous evening had not touched on the business part of the trans- action. My father had been full of the land- scape gardener’s plans, and the talk had been wholly of the terraces andthe arboretum, of leveling and planting, and laying on water for fountains and greenhouses. All that was known in the household on that evening or on the fol- lowing morning was that my father was going to London and was to return before dinner. Yet some one had furnished such precise in- formation that my father’s murderer was able to meet him midway between the bank and the lawyer's office. Who was the accomplice, or worse than accomplice of tae murderer, since the idea of murder might never have entered Claude More!'s mind 1f some one, knowing my father’s affairs, had not told him how large a sum of money might be gained by that crime? Who could that secret assassin, that worse than murderer, be but the man whose footsteps were now dogged by the shedder of blood?— who but that man whose face bore in every line the marks of an unextinguishable remorse, the man whom I had seen shrinking away with horror-stricken countenance from the room where my father used to sit and where his guilty conscience may have conjured up the shadow of the dead? His friend, his generous, confiding friend; oh, God! what a depth of iniquity. To have deliberately planned that cruel murder, tobave plotted the crime which a vulgar assagsin was to execute, to have waited and watched the opportunity, perhaps to have tempted and per- suaded the assassin against some remnant of better feeling, some instinctive shrinking from bloodshed, some scruple of conscience. And to have been with us, day by day, after that devilish act, our friend, our consoler; till at last, trading ona woman’s gratitude for fancied benefits, he put forward his claim to the wife of his victim and possessed himself of the ob- ject of his wicked lov. Possessed himself! Yes, thank God, I know that my mother never loved him, that she gave her life up to him as if in the’ payment of a debt, sacrificing herself to reward the fidelity of a life-long friendship. God keep her from the horror of knowing what I know. My long silence made Gilbert uneasy about me, and he was full of tender sympathy, think- ing that our conversation about my father had renewed an old grief. Mother came in while he was consoling me, and the lamps were brought, and I had to put on a cheerful coun- tenance’ somehow for her dear sake; and by and by I had to sitdown to dinner with that Judas, and still to play the hypocrite. I could hear the sound of my own. Voice as I talked, and it had such a false tone that it jarred upon my ear. Oh, the horror of that hour in the drawing room when mother asked me to play those numbers of Chopin which her husband prefers, and when Isat before the piano and played like a machine, while Ambrose Arden walked up and down with soft, cat-like step, and now and again paused and stood behind me fora few minutes, and once even laid his hand upon my a shoulder. My whole being was one sense of horror and revulsion. I could scarcely breathe while he was so near me; yet I went on playing somehow, always like a ma- chine. “YOU ARE NOT IN USUAL Form.” “You are not in your usual form tonight, Daisy,” said Gilbert, who pretends to think a great deal of my playing. And then he came over to me and bent down to look into my eyes, and talked to me ever so sweetly, and his dear presence exorcised the demon, and that guilty wretch walked slowly away and went on with his restless prowling, to and fro, to and fro, like a spirit in hell. I went on playing, while Gilbert went back to the other end of the room, where he had been sitting with mother, and challenged her toa game at chess. Iwas alone in the shadowy corner by the piano and as I played I watched that tall, slim figure, with the bent shoulders, moving ‘slowly to and fro with a giiding mo- tion, It seemed as if now this awful truth had re- vealed itself, I see Ambrose Arden in a new light—as if I had been blindfold before and had made for myself an image of the man and col- ored it with my own colors. What a relief it was to be alone at last; yes, even a relief to bid good-night to Gilbert and mother, and to lock the door of my own room, and to sit down by the fire, face to face with the grim and hideous truth. I wanted to think out my horrible idea, to arrange all the facts which seem to constitute such damning evi- dence against my step-father, to try if I could not acquit him, or, ut any rate, write “not proven” against his “rime. Alas, no! After long hours of thought, after a long winter night without one interval of blessed sleep. my reason still condemned him, In my mother’s second husband, in the friend and teacher of all my éarly years, the man to whom I owed so mui men I should have 51 murderer of my father. Lrecalled Duverdier’s appearance in Gros- venor square, his persistence in seeing my step-father, his look of bafiled fury as he left the house, I recalled his appearance in this place. Would any man without credentials of # guilty nature dare eo to haunt aman in my step-father’s position? Yet this mere fact of the man’s persecution would not have influenced me to believe in my step-father’s guilt. The evidence that was to my mind conclusive was the evidence of Cyril’s appearance and Cyril's conduct upon the day when he played the listener to a conversation between f father and Duverdier. I saw those in the lane. Ambrose Arden and by side, Duverdier talking angrily, vehemently, though in a lowered voice, = that other figure following stealthily, lis- tening with bent brow and pallid face, Was it like my frank and manly Cyril to play the spy upon his father’s movements, to creep at his father’s heels and listeno a confi- dential conversation? What could be more un- like his character, as I knew it? Nothing but the most stringent circumstances would have forced him into such a contemptible position. And within two or three hours of that scene in the lane he came to me, changed and aged as if by a mortal malady, and told me that all was over betweenus. And this determination, this abandonment of the whole scheme of his existence, had been resolved upon since he left the Rectory, in high spirits, the most light- hearted of men. What but some awful revela- tion could have so quickly changed the whole color of his life? This was the evidence that weighed most heavily with me; and next to this was the evi- dence of my step-father's decay, the gradual deepening of the gloom that had darkened over him in the midst of the happiest and fair- est surroundi: /h, what a cheat and trickster, what a of villains he has been, to 'yY 80 patient a eb pow Be wicked at the first chance ite gave him and then to wait seven years for the harvest. Had he asked my mother to be his wife within « year or two of the murder her oyes perp at ters opened, she me ht have suspecte: it some part rr hus- band's death. No, the dear mother must never, know this hideous secret, if any — of self-repression on my part can keep from her. And so I bave day after to sit at table with the man who pl father’s death; and I mother's my Nave $0 repeoes all sigas (of poe i a ——— my veins as he | seem all Tonce was to him at mp eaid these words. I was: giad of the growing presence, Happily for me he spends the ter of existence in the, volitade of "the. cot his existence in cottage over the way. Happily for all of us that ex- istence is not likely to be a long one. Our Lamford doctor, who went up to London with mother and her husband to assist at the visit to the physician, told Gilbert in contidence that there is organic disease of the heart and that Ambrose Arden is not likely to live to an old age. EB Sve war anin SAVED AT THE LAST MOMENT. A Story of the War and President Lin- coln Told by Detective Carter. ETECTIVE CARTER tells a story of the saving of his brother-in-law’s life during the rebellion. The person whose life was spared was Charles H. Scott, who has since died. “In 1860, when Scott was still a boy,” said the detective toa Stam reporter, “he was learning black- smithing at a little place called Anandale, in Fairtax county, Va. He became dissatisfied with his country home and workshop and en- listed in the Union army. He was with Gen. Twiggs in Texas when the latter surrendered his small army to the opposing forces and bim- self joined their forces, Young Scott refused to go with the enemy and was consequently made a prisoner. He was afterward exchanged when Gen. Banks was on the Red river. Scott fought gallantly in the battles in which he par- ticipated, and was afterward transferred to the eighth regulars. Under the command of Gen. McClellan he served in the Peninsular cam- paige and took part in many battles, Having ome a sergeant, he was sent in the early part of 1864 to Johnson's Island, N. Y., with rebel prisoners. ARRESTED AS A DESERTER. “While in New York he managed to get sepa- rated from his comrades, and instead of going to Johnson’s Island he got under the influence of liquor. Some days afterward he was ar- rested in New York city as a deserter, and as such was sent to Governor's Island. He had not been there long before he was tried by court-martial and sentenced to be shot. ‘Although under sentence of death,” con- tinued Detective Carter, “I continued to re- ceive letters from him, but he did not even in- timate where he was, and I, of course, was under the impression that he was still doing regular duty, until one Saturday night, when L received a letter from him in which he stated his case and asked me to do what I could for him. He asked me tosee President Lincoln and plead for his life. I went out in search of some one who could get an_ audience with the President, and I met John H. Semmes, who was then running for mayor. I stated to him the case of my brother-in-law Scott and asked him to do what he could. “ ‘Certainly,’ was his reply, and together we went to the National Hotel, where we met Sen- ator J. H. Lane, who was an intimate friend of the mayoralty candidate. The Senator was oa his way to the sick chamber of a friend, but he agreed to go to the White House and intercede in behalf of the condemned man. A VISIT TO THE WHITE HOUSE. “Tt was then after 8 o'clock Saturday night and Scott was to be shot on the following Mon- day morning. I called a carriage and in a few minutes we reached the White House. The Senator's card was at once honored and we were admitted. There was a New York delega- tion occupying the President's attention at the time. President Lincoln was just finishing a joke when we entered and the New Yorkers had & good laugh, as though they enjoyed the Presi- dent's story. “When the Senator approached the Presi- dent the New Yorkers stepped back and Mr. Semmes and I were introduced. I related the story of my brother-in-law’s arrest and sen- tence, After a brief conversation the Presi- dent had a telegram sent to Gen. Dix, who was then in command in New York, instructing him not to enforce the sentence until the papers had been forwarded to Washington for exami- nation, ‘and,’ added the President, ‘I'll assure you that the young man will not be shot unless he deserted in the face of the enemy.’ SAVED AT THE LAST MOMENT. “At the direction of the President Mr. Semmes and myself returned to the Executive Mansion the following day. which was Sunday. While we were waiting to see the President Secretary Stanton passed through the room and in acouple of minutes the President sent forus. The President had a dispatch in his hand, which he had received from Gen. Dix, stating that under a general order all persons in confinement charged with military offenses were entitled to discharge, and that Scott came under that order. ‘The President feelingly as- sured us that in any case he would have spared Scott's 1ife, as he had done gallant service and had not deserted when his servii were t needed, Scott afterward re-enlisted and a few ears ago he died at Little Rock, Ark. I still we the dispatch,” concluded Detective Car- ter, “which was received by President Lincoln from Gen. Dix.” —_—_ DOLLS THAT TALK. They Would be More Entertaining if You Could Understand What They Say. The talking dolls have come to town. Six dollars and ninety-cight cents apiece is dirt cheap for such conversational powers as theirs, For entrails they have small phonographs, and to make them speak you have only to turn a crank connecting with their spinal columns, Something of a monotony there is about their speech, for each has only to say for itsclf a single short nursery poem, though it will re- peat that as often as may be desired. Six of the speaking doll babies were seated in a row yesterday afternoon in a down-town shop. ‘Their remarks were listened to by an audience consisting, at the moment when Tm: Stan reporter looked in, of one freckled-faced boy, two giggling young women, who were dressed precisely alike for the purpose of ex- hibiting the fact that they were twins; one con- sumptive youth with a preternaturally high collar, a fat woman, an old man with a beard like a goat, and a door-mat pocdie that was evi- dently the property of some one in the party. Behind the counter was a pretty giel with frizzed hair and a coquettish ribbon at the throat, whose business it seemed to be to keep on grinding out talk from the dolls one after another, The first one was labeled: “Talking Doll No. 1.” Ithad a placard of considerable size fastened beneath its chin, which said—not the chin but the piacard—that this doll recited “Old Mother Hubbard.” When the pretty girl turned the crank, the doll said with great dis- Carts bh i h. a % “Yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yal Yah—yah—yah h—yah—yah; yi It was fortunate thatthe placard beneath the doll’s chin told what it was saying, else you never would have guessed it in the world. ‘But the two young women whose similarity of cos- tume proclaimed them twins exclaimed in unison: “Oh, ain’t it wonderful!” The fat woman gasped stertorously, the old man pulled his goat beard reflectively, the con- sumptive youth readjusted his eyeglusses, the boy with the freckles projected his lower chin derisively and the door-mat poodle remarked: “Bow-wow!” Talking doll No. 2—so its placard an- nounced—was accustomed to say, “Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep.” As was the case with No. 1, the poem in question was printed out in full, so that the listener should be able to follow without difficulty the verses, which were as follows: “Yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah, Yah—yah—vah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah, Yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah, Yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—yah—y ah, Yah—yah!” ‘That last “Yah-yah” was “Amen!” You would never have guessed it, however, unless you had been so informed. As for the freckle- faced boy, he said: “Ah, rate! And then he walked ont of the shop. But the twins, the fat woman, the consumptive youth, the old man with the goat beard and the door- mat poodle stayed to listen to ‘Talking Doll No. 3," which was advertised to repeat the words of “Jack and Jill.” If it had been placarded with any other nursery rhyme it would have been just as well, for_no one could possibly have told the aifterence. But en- couragement was given to the imagination, which, after all, is the most elevated faculty of the human mind. _e0—___— Time an Ayenger. A beauty was she, and petite, me! And I laid my ae ather feet, me! Ab Bui love-dreain brief, though sweet, spi ‘An mot"AR me! ‘Though I was much taller than she, She learned to look down upon me, For rival six-feet-three, my nive’ final Alas! Ben, owe meee teem, And he is thin, crooked and lame, While I'm Dach the same, rm Ga ay hal —New York Herald. AN INTERESTING SUBURB. An Afternoon’s Pleasures at Jackson City. ATTRACTIONS THAT INVITE WASHINGTONIANS TO CROSS THE RIVER—MYSTERIOUS GAMES AND THE RATTLE OF CHIPS—A COCK FIGHT AND ITs ac- _ COMPANIMENTS. 8 HOBOKEN to New York is, so is Jackson City to the capital of this great nation.” Thus sang a gentle youth as he wended his hot and dusty way across the Long Bridge toward the fair Virginia shore one afternoon not so very long ago. A little behind him a Sran reporter was also wending his way. It was evidently a great day for the wending of ways toward Virginia, for beside a motley col- lection of pedestrians, there were a number of cabs moving rapidly along in the same direc- tion and an occasional open carriage might be seen with its precious burden of gentlemen with wide-striped collars and cuffs, big diamond horse shoes in their pink silk neck- tues and clothes loud enough to announce their coming as well as any courier of old with his blare of trumpets could ever have done. One knowing young son of Ham remarked, asa cartiage load of them passed by, “Dey looks like gemmens what follers de races, and makes atit, too.” The occasion of this miniature exodus toward Jackson City was by no means evident to the casual observer. One would hardly suppose that the attractions of that Virginia suburb were such as to account for this small gathering of the clang, Way IT was, Would’st know the explanation of this phe- nomenon, gentle reader? Then listen. Dost wish to know why Tux Star reporter was trav- eling across Long Bridge that warm spring afternoon? Then hear. A voice coming along the wires that lead to Tue Stax office telephone had announced that day to all to whom those presents come, that whosoever might wish to witness a genuine old-time cocking main might be satisfied at 2 o'clock that afternoon in an old shed somewhat back from the opposite bank of the river. Nine battles were to be fought between game cocks of noble breed, and all who had been given the wink and told of the event that was to come off might be on hand to see the fun providing only they possessed a sufti- cient amount of ready cash to satisty the de- mands of the grim doorkeeper. JACKSON CITY'S PECULIARITIES. Jackson City is an odd sort of suburb. It seems to be the only one within miles of the city that has not been subdivided into build- ing lots and villa sites, at city prices. Its population is a shifting’ one, yet it does not seem to increase very rapidly; yet its attrac- tions are numerous and varied. There is little monotony about life in Jackson City, for there is something lively going on all the time. If it is not faro it is “poke” or crap, and if neither of those enticements draws then a “scrapping match,” a general jamboree or a shooting bee of some sort answers the purpose of keeping up the interest to a fever point. These latter pleasures. however, are not the most common. Games, with cards and dice, are the ruling favorites, and with these the Jacksonian is undeniably skillful. He earns his living where he lives. He does not have tocome to the city for that purpose. The people whose money he covets come to him and lose it to him. Inasmuch as there seems to be no police restrictions whatever upon gambling over there the game goes merrily on at all times of day and night, and the tiger can be distinctly heard from the road as he rages around within his cage. DIRECTED BY A CITIZEN. “Is this where the birds are to fight?” asked the reporter of an elderiy white haired colored gentleman who was airing himself in front of a frame building that looked something like a small country hote' “No sah! dis yer is a faro bank, dat nex’ place rassles wid de enticin’ game of draw, but dat ole shed up dar is whar de roosters scrap.” He'pointed to an old shed several hundred yards back from the river, at the door of which a young man stood taking in big red tickets that had previously been dispensed by an older man for a monetary con- sideration of two dollars. From thesmail one- roomed house adjacent to the shed could be heard the crowing of roosters and the sound of heavy shears at work. Around the building the men who had been arriving steadily since noon were congregated. to the number of about. a hundred. and many little bets were being made on the events that were to take place. Inside the house the birds were receiving their final clipping and were having their sharp, bright steel spurs adjusted preparatory tothe fray. All was interest and quiet ex- citement, although it ident irom the Wiy' they talked that mi ¢ crowd were old hands at the business and what they did not know about the relative merits of the dif- ferent breeds and the various methods of training birds the reporter was unable to learn in one afternoon's inquiries. This par- ticular event chanced to be a main between Washington city and Washington county, Md., nine battles to be fought, $200 upon the main and €20 on each fight. While the birds were being putin battle trim the crowd outside amused themselves as best they could. THE SCENE INSIDE, Inside the shed a pit was built about ten or fifteen feet in diameter with rough seats eroundit. Alongside of the pita big packing box sufficed for a table, and on it five men, three white and two colored. were enjoying a quiet game of “draw,” in which the colored gentlemen seemed to be getting possession of all the chips in the most approved fashion. Along toward 2 o'clock everything was ready for the fight and cards were temporarily laid aside in deference to a greater attraction, The first in the pit was a gamey red bird’ that seemed to be especially admired by the betting men from this city. He was “handled” in the ring by a well-known gentleman from this city who has achieved an enviable reputation in his peculiar line. He seemed to be on familiar terms with most of the crowd, by whom he was generally dubbed Bill, A gentleman from the city of brotherly love by the name of Pat took care of the country chanticleer. ‘The urban bird was by all odds the favorite, though the chicken froin out of town, a long’ tangy, white fowl, had a number of admirers and the offerings of “20 to 10 on Dick Lee,” “10 to 5 on the red chicken” did not go without takers, It was a closely fought battle from the start and the birds were evenly matched. The first round did not settle it, nor the second, but asthe battle progressed it looked like a dead sure thing for the city rooster, and the odds in his favor grew rapidly, until almost any- thing could be had on the white. HOW THE COUNTRY ROOSTER FOOLED ‘Ex. Weaker and weaker he grew until he could searcely stand up or flap his wings. He looked as though he had never known how to crow. But he surprised everybody there that time, for just as he was apparently on the point of dying down to die he gave one last chance rive with his shining steel spur, sending it straight into the brain of the red one, who up to this point had been lively and chipper and looked good for many another fight on the same terms. ‘The fight was over, the victory won. There was some little wailing from the losers, but they all paid up their debts promptly and began at once making new ones for the next battle. A SIDE ENTERPRISE. During the interval between the two an en- terprising gentleman spread a piece of black oil cloth, painted with mysterious figures and out upon the big packing box and with the aid ofa dice box drove a fairl weat” and “under and o was his oft-repeated 5 “Walk up and win back your pit losses an@ all your expenses beside. Everything goes from anickel up. Ace, deuce and six. Once more the lucky six. It cannot lose. Walk up, boys, and try your luck.” A VICTORY FOR THE CITY BIRD. When the two gentlemen who were doing the handling reappeared they had two yellow-legged red fowls that looked so much alike they could hardly be recognized from each other. The city bird weighed in a little too heavy and this caused some squabbling, but the gentleman from Philadelphia finally yielded the itand the fight begun. It was one of the cl and best of the day and there was plenty of a ing good hard cash on the finai outcome. extra weight told in the end and at the end of nearly three-quarters of an hour the city bird had his opponent all played and a lucky blow laid him out stiff and stark upon the arena, FIVE OUT OF NINE. The third battle went to the county, the re- sult never being in doubt for a moment, for the Maryland bird was as fresh as could be after it EUMATIC POSSIBILITE Mr. Wanamaker Thinks of Introducing Tubes in the Postal System. 4 MEANS OF COMMUNICATION BETWEEN DE- PARTMENT BUILDINGS IN THIS CITY—TRE SYSTEM IN ENGLAND—THE ABANDONED TUBE TO THE GOVERNMENT PRINTING OFFICE. OSTMASTER General Wanamaker is collecting information in regard to ‘the practical working of the system of communication by underground pneumatic tubes. It is believed that such a system could be introduced with ad- vantage in the large post offices of the country to connect them with the substations. It could also be used to connect all the buildings of the executive departments in this city and the Capitol, It is claimed that such a system would not only facilitate business, but would effect a saving of money. The volume of bus- iness that is transacted daily between the dif- ferent departments and the Capitol is very large. If all the public buildings im the city | could be connected with tubes running under | } ground, through which letters and, perha| small packages, could be sent rapidly, it is be- lieved that @ vaiuable addition would be made | to the present facilities for carrying on the public business. Mr. Wanamaker is gathering facts to ascertain whether tho advantages claimed for this system really exist and whether it would be practicable in connection | with the government business. If he is con- vinced that it would be a good thing he will probably call the attention of Congress to the | subject and ask for an appropriation. WHERE 6UCH TUBES ARK USED. The use of pneumatic tubes for sending | * messages has been quite common in the lead- | » ing cities of Europe for a number of years. This system is also employed to some extent in | this country, The Western Union Telegraph Company have their main office, for exampi in New York connected with the branch offices by pneumatic tubes, Some of these tubes are made of brass 244 inches internal diameter and three-eighths of an inch thick, and are laid under the pavements in the streets at a depth | “ of three feet. Messages are sent from the central office to the several branch offices by | compressed air and from the branch offices to the central office by atmospheric pressure or | vacuum. The motive power 1 furnished by | an engine which operates the air pumps. system has been in use by the Western Union for the past four or five years, and President Green, in an annual report to the stock holders, stated that the saving effected the firs year amounted to half the cost of the plant. They have the system in operation only m New York city, for the reason that the volume of business must be large in order to make it pay. | In London the pneumatic tubes are used io connect the central post office with the branch offices. The lengths of the tubes vary from a few hundred yards to two miles, and the time occupied in the actual traveling through the longest tube is said to be about six minutes. It has become a part of the postal facilities of the British metropolis as well as of other European cities, and it is claimed to be a Practical and eflicient adjunct of postal admin- istration, PRESENT MEANS OF COMMUNICATION, In the large cities of this country the mail matter is distributed from the central point or the railroad stations to the substations by wagons. Here at the seat of government the modern facilities of communication between the department buildings, the Capitol and the White House are the aph and the tele- phone. raph line here and in addition the ph compames run special wires to nearly ail the public build- ings. But neither of these agencies can be used when it is necessary to send written com- municatione. To accomplish the latter mounted messengers are used and also depart- | ment wagons. At certain times es day a wagon leaves each of the large department buildings and makes a trip to the other public buildings, gathering up the mail matter intended for its special depart- ment and leaving a quantity, There is also a corps of messengers who are sent on special trips to carry communications that should be delivered promptly and safely. The bulk of the communication between the departments | goes into the maily, like ordinary mail matter, and is taken to the post office and there dis- tributed, It is thought that a pneumatic tube system will relieve the local post office of a good deai of work tha: is now being done for nothing, and also to a large extent take the place of the corps of messengers and wagons, effecting a great saving of time and money. 4 HUGE TUBE NEVER COMPLETED. There has only been one attempt mad troduce the pneumatie tube syste Ps. | ‘This | f BOOKS AND STATIONERY, Uscn. venture sorter. Drckens Works, Wy Calf, 13 "vote 815: retoced Gloth, 6 > ae Pct Youn, @10 Grammont, ry KT YP. MILLER, Bookseller, S39 Lath st SUPPLIES. FAMILY « woe Wine, NSe.: big Lo wky. Ze . large bottle Grape Wine, home made, Tiree bottle Vincinie Claret, 2oe., 6 jounds Med Oats, 5c. OHAKE’S Grocery, ides Feb mi RAILROADS. ND AN = —— ASV ILLE RATLROAD ©O. T MAL Lt, TNoO. "daily for Warren. », Lynehbu: i daly for Culpeper, ke o t —Daily, except Sunday, for Manassa, and interme toms. and i, 5 8 xton to Auguste via Danville leave Wash- pt Sunday 1 Penne a : uy Pontiny lente JAS. 1. TAYLOR, Gen, Pasa. Agent MIE GKEAI soa 3 THe SENASIEXANTA ROUT ‘ PST, AND SOUTHWEST, FEL MAILS AUNIFICENT EQUIPMENT, Tn Effect March 2, 1800. 0 eee Care at daily to Columb Cars fron Car Harrisburg to St, saat 4 1g aly, wit he West, ure, sod Pittsburg RE AND POTOMAC RAILROAD, wicua, Kochester aid Niagare Palle day, 8-1Ua mn, ua hud Kochester datly: for Bute uily except Saturday,10-00 p.m, ton to Khoctester. aud Lluureat 10.00 opm. run «(Shek AND THE RAST. 1140 am, 210, Sie o LPRIA ONLY. wk daywand 5:10 p.m aaty. Bor Bowkiyn, Nk throught City with"boats of Brooklyn t transfer Fulton cou . Anues, afford treet, avuiding S10, 10008 405, "10250, 00, 4:10, 6:09, m. au and 4:40 p.m daily, y 7 1.00 am. 12-05and 4:20p except Suiidaw Suulaya, 9-09 &ty ee “WASHINGTON SOK iN EFFECT 4 CHEKN RATLWAY. Pell 20, 18pU For Alexanara, 4.00, 6 xf am, 1204 225, B8, Ou Sunday st, 400 + 0, G01, BUR Quantico, 7:45 am, ena 6:55 4 Yodo, 7 om, 2 bm. 2 for ma, Week days, Ere mt By the act of June 10, 1872, Com priated £15,000 for the purpos. & pneumatic tube between pitol a Government Printing Office, the tut “operated by hollow spheres or otherwise was used for the transtaission of book: ages, And especially copy and proof slips, be- | tween those two points. A contract was made with Mr. Albert Brisbane, who had some pat+ rocess Which required the use of hollow tube it Was stipulated that the tube should lL pleted on or before the 30th day of June, 157 and that 20 per cent of the amount should L withheld until the tube was completed. The work of putting in the tube was begun. It was | made 32 inches in diameter. § inches greater than the specifications required. It was mad ot dressed lumber about 1+ nd hooped at intervals with bands of ir: The exterior was coated with asphaltum, A tren: varying in depth from 4 to 17 fe g for a distance of about 2,000 feet northward trom the Capitol about two-thirds of the ent tance, which was to be on a straight | North Capitol street to the Goverament Print- ing Office. constructi pack- WHY IT FAILED. The contractor was prevented by the charac- ter of the ground from completing the work | and this discovery was made after 12 the appropriation bad been paid. He offered to complete the work at his own cost. but it was never done. It appeared that the be passed under the B street con: track of the Baltimore and Ohio necessitated deep cutting and a consequent great weight of earth on the top of the tube. In making this cutting several deep springs were met with, which could not be drained under | the grades then existing in that locality. Ten years later a committee of the Senate appointed to ascertain why the government had uot sc- cured some retura for the large emount ex- | pended made a report which gave the facts as | above stated. The criticism was made that the proposed plan had not been practically and it was recommended that a pneumatic t of the description which has been successfully | used in England be laid between the Capitol | and the Government Printing On; This | recommendation, however, was experiment in this city. When the excavation was made not long ago for the Capitol terrace the wooded conduit or tube of this abandoned experiment was unearthed aud removed, EARLY ATTEMPTS. In this report the committee gives some in- teresting historical data in regard to the use of pneumatic tubes in England. The system of pneumatic tub: locomotion, the report states, appears to have been practically experi- | mented upon in England as earl, 1841, | being known as the “atmospheric railroad.” In 1851 the Electric and International Tele- graph Company of London successfully put into operation a pneumatic tube system | transmitting written dispatches between their | central station and their substations, In 1863 | the post office department made use of a puen- matic railroad in London for forwarding and distributing through the city the mail sacks. Since that date the pneumatic system bas been in successful operation in the large cities of | Europe. ee ee eis Monkeys in Corsets. In order to test the injurious effects of tight lacing on the respiration, the Medical Record says: Dr. Lauder Brunton, while in India made a number of experiments on female moukeys for the simple reason, as Dr. Branton ingenuously explains. that they are more like women than fogs are, A monkey wasen- veloped in a plaster-of-Paris jacket to imitate stays, and a tight bandage was then tied around the abdomen so as to imitate the band which would sustain the petticoats. They were then given chloroform. The result of the experi- ments is reported to have been “very marked indeed,” so much so that several of the monkeys died quickly. Dr. Brunton added that the survival of some of the animals experi- mented upon was probably due to the fact that the di is able to compensate to a large extent for the enforced loss of chest move- 7 i i : | inatio, Barone A Sched | Leave Wasiuny ton veland, Vestibuled Limited 0 pt, 2 m politan Branch, 16:4 COAL eaticue OMS ud Way 14:35pm Ung aint intermediate pute, "900%, Diba F112 Pat 42 and intermediate Station, 17:00pm, 2 leaves Washington on Sunday at 1:10 at all stations on Metsupoiitan, 20 Mie, TS TO kK, 10:40, TL “PEM tou AND PHULADELIATA DIVISON, | or New,hork, Jrenton, Newark aud bizabeth, § sie corey Uy not, *Datiy {Sunday only. o and checked from hotels and res “Prausfer Co. on orders Jett at Ueke® ps Sunday 1 80 DELL Manager. POTOMAC RIVER BOATS. ‘Gen. Nonrotk axp oxp port, FARE, 61.50. Steamers Leave Gtk street wharf at 5 p.m, Tues zy, Thursday, Sati ad Bi jome Cail tor Pome Kivet cok, Lands in Mattaw down aud Wednesdays Thuredays down and Moudays aud Wednesdays and Chaptico aud Landings in Wicomico kiver Tues» G. T. JONES, at XD FORTRESS MONKOE, ACELSION, trom (thst. wharf Mem days, Wednesdays aud fridays, at 9 pin, EXCLUSIVE CONNECTION WITH BOSTON AXD PROVIDENCE 81 RAMEKS. Fare: $2 single; round trip, #3. Tickets and at Band O. Ucket offices, 619 and 1351 Pa eve, Hawiley’s, 14th and New York ave. rther information iugaire at company’s office, on the whart. Jeclephoue call +40-3. 219 WM. P. WELCH. Supt, and Gen. Agt TOMAC TRANSPORTATION COMPANY. Tor Bat and River Landings Steamer SUE, Capt. Kegan, leaves Dtepheuson's whurt every Sunday at 4 v'clock pum 2 niornale® ‘apply to STEPHENSON & BRO. Beveuth Street _mb8-6m Moe=t vannox STEAMER W., W. Capt. Biake, jeaves 7 th-st. Sunday) tor Mount Vernon, leaving at 1Gamreacke Sopa about 3. Fare, round tip, $1, including edmission to, saic'mniarmons : = Iko! MEK “Ww wee. fth-st, what ob MUNDAS. sha SATURDAYS at 7 AYS and SUNDAYS p.m. sa waieen, Ma, Connects with Bi-ana’ Shererds: “Boe seed Br Mal. iule. CM, MIDLKY danaser, EONw ae RIVER LANDINGS.