Evening Star Newspaper, January 3, 1891, Page 12

POSITIONS OF TRUST. The Secretary and Executive Clerk of the Senate. GEN. McCOOK AND J.R. YOUNG. Whe They Are and What is Required of Them—Their Quarters at the Capitol—Sen- torial Secrets Well Kept—Handling Mil- Mons of Dollars. N ANCIENT AND AN HONORABLE +2 OFFICE is that of secretary of the Sen- ate, one of the most desirable positions to be found in all the voluminous blue book which is biennially published by the government of the United States. The salary is sufficient to be a consideration, but that is not all of the at- tractiveness. Politically it isa good thing to have, for the holder of it has in his hands few choice appointments. Socially it is not surpassed by anything else in the gift of either Congress or the President of the republic. To be an acceptable secretary 0: she Senate argues thatsuch a man isa gentloman in all that the word implies and a diplomat of more than ordinary ability. That is acrade pen sketch of Anson George McCook, who has been secre- tary since 1883. Not a Senator but re- spects him and there are very few who do not regard him with what falls but little, if any, short of positive affection. His relations with the Senate itself are of the closest and most con- fidential description, but the official intimacy has grown in numerons instances to personal friendship of an enduring nature. Anson G. McCook is a member of the famous family of “fighting Me- Cooks,” having become so October 10. 1835, in the town of Stenben- | ville, Ohio. When a * youngster he went to| California overland, and after having his fill of that experience he re-| turned to his Buckeye | home, there to stud law. ' Just aa he about to graduate the | war of the rebellion Indians also wrestles with the record books when the Senate retires into the exclusive seclusion con- sodeeat spon empty closed doors. Were Col. Morrow not a Senate official he would undoubtedly be an iturist. His tastes are in harmony with state of mind which makes men face of nature that worldly gain may follow, and it is but rarely that his desk has not on it rare specimens tubers and choice samples of grain. No true Missourian comes to the city fails to call on Col. Morrow in his office, and this testimony to his kindly nature is equall; true of Philadelphians and Mesers. Young Shankland. Any Missourian or Philadel who cannot be otherwise accounted for is gen- erally in the office of the principal executive clerk and his assistants. When the cruel war was over Mr. William Lucas—who had taken an active interest in the Union cause—recelved an appointment as mes- senger in the office of the secretary. tioned in the executive clerk's room and Te- sponds when duty calls. For nearly twenty years has Mr. Lucas done those things which he ‘ought to have done, and he is valued and re- spected accordingly. He has grown somewhat | gray in the service and may be truthfully said to have gathered to himself = comfortable de- gree of Jolly rotundity of person. His duties are not peculiarly executive, so his bil- ities have not creased his visage with lines of care, nor is he ever in too much of # burry to be polite even to affability. ‘THE FINANCIAL CLERK'S OFFICE. ‘Twenty-five million dollars is a good deal of money, yet at least that amount has been dis- bursed by Mr. R. B. Nixon, the financivl clerk on Secretary McCook’s staff, since he was ap- inted to give his personal attention to sena- Torial accounts. ‘Things are in am uncomfort- ably crowded condition in Mr. Nixon's office. The room, which opens out on the that crosses the path to the Senate chamber, main entrance, is too small for the business that has to be transacted. The first impression of the room is largely tinted with red, that being the color of the counter screens which prevent even Senators from peering the wire netting which fortifies the of the financial clerk and his assistant. A couple of big safes—one ancient, one modern—help fill up the space so much needed for other uses. The two desks necessary are crowded into the window recesses in an awkward but unavoid- able manner. The probabilities of any im- ‘ovement in the matter of accommodations are, however, very slim, and need not be looked for until it be found impossible to do the work within such restricted limits. Over the counter is paid a million dollars each year—in the fiseal year 1983-89 the anit was $1,085,162.93. “This includes all F broke out. To a Me- Cook that meant fight, | and in a little while ANSON @. M'COOR. Anson G. was captain of the second Ohio regi- iment. Assuch he was at the first bactle of | Bull Run. passed upward through the grades of major and lieutenant colonel to that of colonel, holding the latter rank in both the second and one hundred and_ninety-fourth Ohio regiments. He served with the Army of the Cumberland and commanded a brigade under Sherman in the Atlanta campaign. When there was no more fighting to be done he was mustered out as a brevet brigadier general. | Stenbenville and New York city were his next Yesidences, and from the latter he was sent to the Honse of Representatives from 1877 to 1883. Then he graduated to the Senate, and has been there uninterruptedly since. Gen. MeCook is part proprietor of a flourishing journal published in New York and devoted to egal interests. DUTIES OF THE OFFICE. Gen. McCook’s position is one of great re- sponsibility, for in his keeping are the records of the Senate—legislative and executive. He signs every act of the Senate, and, throngh his financial clerk, disburses every cent of the vast sum which is annually spent by the Senate * cording to the statutes made and provide: Oceasionally the general relieves the monotony of his personal duties by cg ee journal or other necessary matter in Senate—in fact, he reads a good deal—and one of the pe- culiarities of his reading is its clearness and what Col. Maurice Pinchover used to call “un- derstandibility.” THE SECRETARY'S QUARTERS. There is nothing extremely ornate in the see- retary'soffice. It is a large room with most of its exposure to the west, sandwiched between the 03 the executive clerk and the safe- adorned apartment of the keeper of senatorial finances. “When the secretary is in his room he ean only be reached by going through one or other of the offices named, but he never avails himself of these defenses; he is always accessi- ble. ‘THE EXECUTIVE CLERK'S ROOM. There is an air of secrecy, an indefinable feel- ing of mystery, in the executive clerk's room; or, to be more officially panctilious, the office of the executive clerk of the Senate. Within ite walls are an immense number of communi- eations which custom insists on calling “state secrets,” in spite of the fact that the true in- wWardness of every document of importance was before the 'p long ago by the anti- secretive press of the United States. The em- ployes of this department labor behind the bara which have been erected for the purpose of exeluding a somewhat curious public, and these bars—a profusion of bronzed wire artis- tically interwoven—give the office a bank-like appearance which is not borne out by the amount of cash usually on the inside of the counter. In place of notes and drafts and bills there are nominations and treaties, and but rarely is it that the scratching of a pen is in- terrupted by the sound of rattling or rustling Three big file cases, transferred years ago from the Supreme Court room. contain the mysterious and closely guarded documents. Two of the cases are outside the fence: the other one is above the desk on which Col. Mor- Tow puts his feet when he has nothing else to do—which is infrequently. In these file cases ean be found every presidential nomination sent from the White House since the Fortieth Co: Each is numbered and so plainly indorsed that the senatorial action is easily ap- Parent. During the last session President Har- Fison sent to the Senate 3,500 messages, some of them including a great many nominations. Treaties. too, are stored away in this apart. ment, all lettered and alphabetically arranged, ready for ready reference. ‘Over the marble mantel is an elaborate mir- for, more than half a century old, and a re- markable specimen of reflective art. Of it Col. Morrow says: “It knows not flies,” although.as Mr. Shankland sapiently remarked. “Flies gen- erally have an affinity for mirrors.” JAMES R. YOUNG. At the southern end of the counter is the desk Of the chief executive clerk—James R. Young— and thereat may Mr. Young be found, save | when he is in the cham- Ber, so long as the Sen- ate’ is in session. Mr. Young’s earlier years were spent in Philadel- phia, but that fact never seems to have operated to his disadvantage, al- though the office is an elective one. His first election was in Decem- ber, 1872. In March, 1873, the Senate was / democratic, so he went, out, and remained out until December, 1883, ! when the republicans ggain assumed control. Ir. Young's duties are most responsible— he is continually full of what cannot be otherwise the most interesting sort of information— but he is fully equal to the most exacting de- mands, and although still actively interested in the newspap siness (with his brother, John owning the Philadelphia Star) he never allows oue of the erceutive secrets to get away from his official self. When the Senate is in executive session he does the reading work, ex- plains the nominations to the Senate and does everything in bis jovial to drive dull care d make th © sessions informal table in their e. He is most poy ular and has as largea circle of genuine frien any one could possibly gather around him. THE ASSISTANTS. ‘There are two assistant executive clerks, M. R Shankland and C.C. Morrow. Mr. Shank- land entered the service of the Senate in 1861, coming from that same City of Brotherly Love which claims Mr. Young for its own. Col. Forney was then secretary of the Senate. Those who succeeded that talented gentleman have appreciated the value of Mr. Shankland’s serv- ices, for his term of office has been uninter- olitico-seismic disturbances numerous government em- yes more than a little inconvenience. Mr. Rucniion’ is pleasant looking and most unas- suming in his manner—a gencral favorite. He keeps the executive journal, and it is his cun- ning band that makes a legible copy thereof for the private reading of the lucky individual who, for the time be! , happens to till the office of President of the United States. Col. C.C. Morrow is a Missourian in whom guile. The charge that he comes salaries, senatorial mileage, stationery bills and all the contingent expenses of the greatest de- liberative body in the world. An accommoda- tion banking business is also done for Senators, but it does not invol ything more the collection of drafts and the presentation of checks through the various banks. Financial Clerk Nixon is a native of the Dis- trict of Columbia, and was first called to be a when summoned to make an xamination of some mixed-up accounts more than twenty-three years ago. The work of examination was well done, and asa result the cashier of the city post office became finan- cial clerk of the Senate. Mr. Henry A. Pierce of Rhode Island is Mr. | Nixon’s assistant. He has been in the office for six years, a faithful and competent as sistant. The man who hauls the money from the treasury—that big annual suin—has been doing it ever since August, 1876. It is Mr. E. A. Hills, a Massachusetts man, known to every one in the Capitol and to a many people where, as obliging as he is trustworthy. Th only other occupant of the financial cler! office is C.R. Nixon, the secretary's page, a | bright youngster anda Nery necessary part of the machine which enables business affairs = Senate to run smoothly and without ry ———— English Fruit. From the London Spectator. ularity of particular kinds of fruit is largely o question of fashion, and there is no doubt but that the English apple has of late years fallen into much disfavor—to a certain degree mer- ited, for the immense improvement that has taken place in it is comparatively recent, and | some twenty years ago a dessert of English ap- | ples, pears and nuts would have been a hard- featured one indeed. But now the reproach has passed away, and even as the products of our hot houses may challenge the grapes and Peaches of any other country, so too the ardier fruits grown beneath our inclement sky may hold their own in beauty and flavor against the huge apples of America or the fragrant pears of France. Travelers may talk as they will of the exotic and outlandish growths of distant countries, we at home are not without the kindly fruits of the earth, and are ready to maintain that in respect of quality we are at least as blessedas any other nation. There is nothing to compare with our infinite variety of berries—the strawberry alone as many tastes as it does shapes and sizes—while the flavor of the plum Naties. as does ite color from a transparent amber, through every shade of red and gold to the = purple. Let usalso remark by the way how auch kindlier is the outward aspect of our fruit than that of theee tropical growths; | apples, pears, strawberries, plums and peac! olfer themeclves at. once’ to be eaten;. at the | most there is but a thin and delicate skin that gives only the flavor of resistance to the teeth | of those that covet them; whereas iaez i bof the pineapple is a rough’ rampart only to ‘the knife, the Jurks inside ahard and_uninviti and the prickly pear defends itself with the most ab- rent spikes from the hands of its would-be consumers. There is no fruit that lends itself more read- ily to cooking than the apple. What is sauce for the goose is also sauce for the gander, and there is no doubt but that the apple is a very excellent sauce for the goose. Excellent also when immured in pies and puddings and more than excellent within the dumpling—the dump- ling that so exercised the mind of the king who wondered greatly how the apple got inside. Nor must the drink be f nm that is made from the same useful fruit—the cider that is the joy of the Devonshire and the Nor- folk farmer. Compared with otherswe are not avery fruit-loving people. We look uj oranges and nuts as toys to tri our hunger has been elsewhere satistied and cannot bring ourselves to regard them seriously asa staple of food. Vegetarians are anxious to Pre ieefp, ts that we are wrong, but there seems at little prospect of our conversion to their views. ‘ter all the diet of mankind is simply a question of latitude. The juimaux sub- sists almost exclusively upon blubber, while the negro is content to find all his nourishment in a scanty plot of bananas. We, in our half- way position between Pole and tor, should probably do well to steer a mi course— neither to carnivorous nor altogether fructiv- crous. But though we are so little given to fruit eating, we nevertheless consume enor- mously more than we are able to supply and the sum spent every year upon the importation of foreign fruit is very large indeed. we cannot grow, but apples and pears will do as well on English soil as elsewhere and a great part of that sum that now goes abroad might well go into the ts of the small tenant |farmers and cottage gardeners in England. So much has been done of late years to improve our stock of fruit trees and to acquire | knowledge asto the suitability of different | kinds of different soils that very little would be | required from the growers themselves but the small amount of care that is necessary to all | tree culture. It is true that no cure ean guard | against the blight that at rare intervals makes barren every orchard in @ district and blight is not one | every tree in the orchard, but avery frequent visitor and, taking year with another, the years of plenty certainly pre- | ponderate over those of famine. At the pres- ent moment in many the only fruit trees to }a. few — cankered barren a some unc that any oter kinds but ve, perhaps, sup} that peculiar one. ‘Thanks to the efforts of the many societies that have interested themselves in fruit culture we have learned enough to avoid such mistakes in the future and there is no reason why the business of fruit shoald not flourish a# well ‘ith or ot Bon with our n abroad we must, per- haps, lynch @ few of the regraters of Covent Garden. where I have been where I haven't Like many other things in England, the pop- | from aj writ en | 8b THE EVENING STAR: A WRECKED LIFE. her Sad Story of What Promised to Be a Brilliant Career. THE RESULT OF THE WINE CUP Wife and Child Forgotten in a Drunken De- bauch and » Bigamous Marriage Contracted —From = Theological Student to a Coal Heaver on an Ocean Steamer. ‘Written for The Evening Star. NE DAY LAST WINTER while on » short business trip to New York I dropped in to see & lawyer friend of mine. We talked about all the various things that usually come up for discussion when two southerners chance to meet in Gotham. From out of the hotch-potch of news and gossip I have here rescued » hitherto unwritten chapter in the life of s talented and ambitious young southerner. The story is a sad one, and in the main details it is true. About a year before there had come to New York from a Kentucky towns young man who Possessed decided talents as writer and con- versationalist. He was of splendid appearance and his frank, handsome countenance would have attracted notice anywhere. He was the scion of an aristocratic family and was the graduate of a prominent southern university. During his college days he had made the ac- quaintance of a beautiful Indy, the daughter of one of the leading families of Kentucky. Scarcely before the ink had dried upon his Latin sheepskin the young graduate, flushed with the hopes of a brilliant future, took this fair young to himself as wife and helpmeet, the ceremony being celebrated by the two families with great eclat and rejoicing. In accordance with the desires of his own pa- rents he soon after enrolled himself at a theo logical seminary preparatory to entering upon his carcer as a minister. His young wife accompanied him, and here their honeymoon was spent. The divinity stu- dent applied himself with diligence, but grad- ually ag the newness wore away he grew restive and sighed for a more active contact with the world. With a penchant for journalism, he ras inspired with hope by the success of an ac- uaintance of his college days who had gone to jew York immediately after graduation. ‘The frequent letters of this friend had done much foward producing dissatisfaction with his own lot, and before he was aware of it he had reached a determination to disregard the wishes of his people and to exchange the theo- logical text book for the repertorial pencil. To WIN FAME AND FORTUXE. Leaving his wife and a beautiful sunny-haired babe with the parents of the former, he left, nothing daunted, for the great cruel city, where he hoped to win fame and fortune in the ranks of the journalists. He carried letters of introduction to a number of prominent people, who did all in their power to secure for hint an engagement on one of the New York dailies. ‘They were confronted with the same old stories of no vacancies and scores of previous applications on file. The __ situation was a depressing one for the hitherto hopeful young southerner, but the little wife, far away among the blue grass of her Kentucky home, waiting patiently for her brave young husband to prepare for the coming of herself and babe, never knew of his disappointments. Tis pride had touched his pen, and instead of a tale of despondency the golden words of hope flowed out upon the white sheet of paper that the dis- tant wife kissed so tenderly when she had finished reading the comforting assurances of approaching success. ith steadily diminishing purse the young Kentuckian bestirred himself and at intervals secured small assignments of a literary nature some of the publishers of sensational story papers. The erstwhile divinity student soon found himself grinding out blood-curdling romances that would have produced a terrible shock to the moral sensibilities of any of the staid professors who had but a short while be- fore led him along the byways of theology. After a precarious existence of several months he secured a place a3 reporter at the munificent salary of ¢10a week. Paying £10 a week to his landlady. he was compelled to continue his “blood and thunder” work in order to make surplus money that could be sent home to the wife and little one as tangible evidence that he was doing well. After being ns as a reporter he hustled with an ene! and wrote with a vivacity that com- mandsd the respect. of his fellow workers. There was no assignment, how- ever disagreeable or difficult, that he would not enter upon without hesitation or com- plaint. He soon had the satisfaction of sce- ing his salary increased, allowing him to par- take of more creature comforts and to transmit to Kentucky increased remittances. With mailing fortune he acquired new scquaint- ances, who irresistibly led him into paths of temptation and vice, The midnight supper, “with wine,” after the last bit of copy been turned in, was soon followed by whole nighta given up to bibulous revelry. ‘The demon of the cup ere long possessed him with its tempting allurements until he had become @ con! victim of drink. A “SLUMMING” EXPERIENCE. One Saturday'night after he had drawn his week's salary and his last assignment had been faithfully performed he joined «party of young men and went “slumming,” visiting in their tour many of the worst dens of iniquity in the city. As a nai sequence, y drank freely and soon became picturesquely hilarious. They met fast women on the streets, joined them and accompanied them to their haunts. ‘The young Kentuckian made the acquaintance of s captivating nymph, who soon entranced his drunken brain with her borrowed beat at} and her glib tongue. He showered his hard- earned upon this gay deceiver, who greedily ate his supper, drank his wine and gathered within her every extravagant token of his drunken infatuation. Reeling with champagne, they sought the street and wandered aimlessly along un’ a = it may — = — roposition came from t they “go anc Get uncrisd” Waving sothing st Zale and caring less for the sanctity of a marriage tie, e , and the two with all the precipi- tation their condition would allow, pursued a zigzag course to the nearest hack stand, where they intoa vehicle and were driven to an official's residence. Half dazed with drink they were soon pronounced man and wife. ith the debauch above narrated the young Kentuckian disappeared from view. Neither the managing editor nor the reporters in the office where he had been employed could account for his absence from his accustomed desk. In- quiry at his boarding house and of the gentle- men to whom he had brought letters of intro- duction failed to elicit any information as to hia whoreabouts or the cause of his sudden dis- nge, until, as day after day passed with- out his reporting for duty, all became settled in the belief that he had returned to his south- ern home. SEEKING FOR THE LOST oxE. A fow weeks afterward there arrived in New York, over the Baltimore and Ohio railroad, a venerable lady and a young man, evidently her son. They took rooms on the European plan at one of the uptown hotels, where the register revealed the fact that they had come from the same Kentucky town that had been the f Soon after this they took a cab and were dri to the lodging house where the erner Deen formerly doi showed to the astonished one of the gen @ distin, lawyer, to whom letters of in yore son. He, too, was unable to nearly told. Suffice it to say, the young man who had left his pretty wife and lovely babe in southern town and had York of Since 'a | How sti tne empt every ones only who throngh and beyond to the goal of endi fuccess. Nowhere else in America is the young journalist e: to so exacting a test, but there is pure gold in his composition, it shines all the brighter by reason of his perilous ap- Prenticeship. See CARP TRANSPLANTATION. Immigrant Fish Driving Native Competitors Out of the Passaic River. The carp are driving all the other fish out of ‘the Passaic river, says the New York Herald. fish themselves represent the success and the howling is being done by the anglers and tho residents along the banks of the river. There are half a dozen varieties of carp and these have established a trust, and in a very short time threaten to monopolize the river to the exclusion of all other fish. It is now about ten years ago that a number of private carp pondsncar the head of the Pas- saic river broke away; the owner considered this a misfortune and the general public now agree with him. At that time carp were worth fancy prices—in fact, thoy were altogether too valuable to eat. They had been sent hither by some friends in Germany and soon a fever set in and every farmer along the Passaic becamo arp culturist. It was an easy matter to con- ructa carp pond and the carp themselves took kindly to the climate and water. FISH LAUGHING AT FARMERS. Every farmer who had acarp pond madea success of it and soon considered himself an experienced carp culturist. The public docu- ments issued from the fish commissioners’ of- fice in Washington contained fall information about tho breeding of carp, and to this were added experiments, which every farmer tried for himself. Every experiment proved a suc- cess, Some farmers believed in very deep water; others preferred shallow ponds; some wanted a brook running through the ponds; others preached the advantage of perfectly still water. It mattered not to the carp what was being done. He continued to increase and multiply until there were so many of them that the farmers to think of offering them for sale. But the government continued to import carp, and cans containing @ dozen or so could had for te asking. At first great care was had in their transpor- tation. This was enjoyed by the carp, but his friends soon found that they could impose on his good nature and it was found that carp could be shipped a considerable distance ina wet rag. For purposes of propagation the carp was worthless, as the government seemed to have an inexhaustible supply. ‘Then an attempt was made to sell carp in the market. The first carp brought to market in Paterson commanded 25 centsa pound. In less than a week the price had fallen to 8 cents. ‘The following week no fish dealer would buy carp at any price, as there was no demand for the fish. ‘The result was that the farmers turned their carp ponds into the river and went back to raising hogs. 700 DULL FOR AXGLERS. In the meantime the angling fraternity smiled. They did not care for the carp, for after catching one or two they concluded that there was a great deal more game in a common American sucker than in a whole string of carp. Elaborate descriptions as to how tocatch carp were sent to this country, but it was soon found that the carp here had contracted dif- férent habits. Instead of biting only shortly after sunrise, as is supposed to. bo the case in the old country, the carp bit twenty-four hours a day. Nor were they at all particular about bait. They showed a preference for boiled peas, but would take kindly to dough or worms, or in fact anything else that might be considered ible. ers presumed that the enrp, being a fish Gt elt sition, woukd ow feats tia tne bass, pickerel and perch; some approved of the introduction of cary under the Wellef that they would make capital food for the native fish; others shook their heads and predicted that the carp would eventually drive the other fish out of the river. This prediction is apparently ons fair way toward bemg fulfilled. That the carp have fattened wonderfully is apparent, for specimens weighing fifteen or eighteen pounds are by no means rare. Twenty-one pounds is the heaviest carp taken in the Pusnaic river, but anglers say that they have seen wallowing about in shallow ‘water that would weigh over thirty pounds. Fishing for other fish has been very poor and is growing poorer every year. and it is now evi- dent that the carp are driving the other fish out of the river. TOO STIRRING FOR OTHER FISH. The Passinc river is very wide in some por- tions of Morris and Passaic counties; the stream is sluggish, and there is an abundance of vege- table growth in the water. If the carp had made it to order it could not have been better. ‘The river has assumed an altogether different appearance from what it had before. in yoars gono by there were long stretches of pure and perfectly clear water. past few years these stretches have assumed a muddy appearance, and investigation shows that this is due to the groveling of the carp on the bottom looking for food. ‘This state of the Frater wasnot at all appreciated by the native fish, and they gradually disappeared, going down stream. Once over the Passaic falls at Paterson, they could not return. Between the falls and Dun- dea dam they were assailed by the discharge from the sewers and the poisonous acids in- jected into the river from numerous dye works and manufacturing establishments. The carp did not secmn to mind this condition of affairs, but the native fish hastened to Dundee lake, where the water was somewhat purer. But soon this sheet of water, made by the widening of the tuver due to the construction rge dam, was infested by the carp, and native fish had no other recourse left but to throw themselves over the dam into tide water. Here, according to the laws of the state, fishing With nets ig permitted, and here hundreds of bushels of fish are taken every year. The Hun- garians of Passaic soon found out about this and netting was indulged in every day. In former years comparatively few base, pickerel and perch wore taken, but the number of these fish captured increased every year, and during the present year more American food fish have been taken than were former! taken in five years. Something drives the fi by the thousand over the falls and over the Dundee dam, and those who have made a stud of the subject all agree tha; this something the great abundance of the carp. From present appearances the have the exclusive possession of the Passaic river, and it will only be a question as to how many the river will hold. During the will soon Alone. Since she went home— ‘The evening shadows linger longer here, ‘The winter days Ml so mueh of the year, And even summer winds are chill and drear, Since she went home. Since she went home— ‘The robin's note has touched a minor strain, ‘The old giad songs breathe but a sad refrain, And laughter sobs with hidden, bitter pain, ‘Since she went home. she went home— as Tooms her mee blessed; Untouched the plifow that her fear head. pressed; ‘My lonely heart hath nowhere for its rest, ‘Since she went home. ‘Tae long, Jong Gaps ave cra sway tke years, long days have crept aw: ‘The, sunlight haa been ‘dimmed with doubt ‘and And the dark nights have rained in lonely tears, Since she went home. Kougnt J. BURDETrE. the | Suggestions Which Are Appropriate WASHINGTON, D.C, SATURDAY, JANUARY 8, ATTRACTIVE HOMES. to the Reception Season. INTERIOR HOUSEDECORATIONS Other Rooms Than Those on the Lower Floor Should Be Carefully Looked After—An Al- Written for The Evening Star. NOW, AFTER THE RUSH of the holidays, when domestic pleasures were at their zenith, comes a time when in Washington peo- ple seem to live for the public, a it were. The Tole of hostess is one that most ladies assume here at some time or times the season with more or less grace. If itis only in the way of giving up an afternoon in every week to one’s friends and acquaintances it involves a certain degree of solicitude that one’s house should beat its best for the inspection of visitors anda pride in making it as attractive as possible. All hi makes of the so- cial season a time to shine both practically and figuratively. A greater degree of symmetry seems to prevail than used toin the arrange- ment of ahouse,and all the efforts toward beautifying do not exhaust themselves on the first floor, which is more generally thrown open to visitors. Much attention, in fact, is being be- stowed on the sleeping rooms, both for the family and for the “stranger within the gates.” If there isan only daughter especially is her room made one of the prettiest spots in the house, and if the house is new probably care has been taken to have the foundation of wood- work and papering or other mural decoration correspond with the future furnishings and coloring. This isthe case with a fortunate maiden of my acquaintance, whose own room was planned with special designs when anew houge was contemplated, nd who now is enjo- ing the consummation of all a young girl could wish for in the way of a charming room. AN ALCOVE BLEEPIXG ROOM. Tho shape is attractive in itself, with an al- cove for the bed and washstand, giving a bou- doir effect to the rest of the room, which is nearly square. The side walls are papered with a French paper, one of those delightful confections of tulips and roves, shepherds’ pipessshepherdess hats, garlandsand ribbons. A eize and ceiling decoration carries out further the same idea, with a design of festoons andrib- bons, all in softest old pink and white, while in the paper pink and reed seem rather more prominent than any of the other delicate colors, mingled with them. The very pretty inging mantel is of white mahogany, with a 8 mirror above, and across the room, a little in front of the mantel, a graceful arch’ from side to side of the room gives the effect of a re which is an attractive feature. The polished floor is as light-colored _as_ the mantel and is, pretty well covered ‘with Turkey rugs of sub-| ‘font In ied tones. Water colors predominate among the pictures on the walls, and, with wide mats and white framés, look particularly delicate and lovely against the flowered background of the paper. 178 PRETTY FURNISHINGS. The principal furniture except the brass bed were made to order of white mahogany like the mantel, and are ® chiffonier, washstand, dresser and writing desk. The bed, as I have said, is brass, and sets in the alcove, and beside it, in a corner by a window, is the very daintiest of little wicker bedside tables, three cornered and painted white and gold. There is just room on top for a candlestick—a Dresden ‘one of beautiful decoration—with its pink candle and a few books. On the other side of the bed is the washstand, very commodious and with the prettiest of toilet sets of low, broad shape and with tiny roses lered over all the sur- face. A rodof brass supported by two uj rights is at the back and from this hangs traditionary “splasher,” in this case of hem- stitched fine linen, with a design of ers nearly covering it embroidered in whit silk. The dresser is a beautiful piece of furni- ture and its furnishings correspond. The to} is covered with a scarf of pink plush with a sit. very sheen, each end hanging over the with a fall of deep, heavy white lace to finish it. The and comb tray, box and small tray are of china with a cl small flowers in wreaths and harming decoration of all odd pieces of china are scattered over the lush, which brings out their coloring most ef- Fectively. The brushes and hand glasses are of silver, as well as many other of the knick-knacks ut, and combined with the china they leave nothing to be desired in the way of pretty dressing table fittings. Thore are three win- dows in the room and the light comes through sash curtains of pale yellow silk, which tones and mellows it. Between the dresser and the deak stands a dear little white table with w and lower shelf and rails of spindles around each to Protect the pretty trifles with which it is cov- ered. When a brass jar is filled with chrysan- themums and set on this low table as I saw it one day, the effect is charming. A DAINTY DESK AND CHIFFONIER. ‘The desk is of the colonial style, with sloping front, which lets down and rests on supports drawn out from each side. It is ample and substantial and all its conveniences and orna- ments are of the prettiest. A Dresden china inkstand has as its accompaniment the pen tray and candlestick of silver, while a large silver-tipped blotter protects the polished sur- face of the desk. ‘The rail around the shelf above the desk and the handles of the three drawers beneath are of brass, as are those of most desks, but a touch of individuality is the large monogram of graceful design, also in brass, which is disclosed ae desk is shut, being on the ceater of e lid. The chiffonier is a handsome piece of furni- ture, commodious and well proportioned and not too large. A pretty clock of pink marble stands on top, with other ornamental objects beside it and a soft water-color picture hang- ing over it. A PRETTY DIVAN. Just beyond the chiffonier, so that its side helps make a comfortable corner for the pil- lows, is the divan, as pretty a one as I have ever scen. The covering is green velours of fine quality and beautiful color, several shades darker than any of the other greens in paper or in other furnishings. A deep puff and plaited frill finish the sides and the seat is closely tufted and delightfully soft and inviting. The collec- tion of pillows heaped about it is varied in size, texture of covering and coloring. One is of pink and white India silk with small flowers on the white stripe, while another is of the white Japanese crepe with gold-stamped design, and has a wide frill of the same around. the ed; A°plain pink sill: one is similarly. frilled and cream-colored ono with plain edges has gay bouquets scattered over its silken surface. There are two large ones covered plainly with the same velours as the divan is also. Near the end of the lounge farthest from the chif. fonier, and which comes near the mantel, is a Turkish coffee table, pay inlaid with mother-of-pearl. This low table, about on a level with the couch, is a most convenient place for a book or two, as well as a very picturesque bit of furniture. A dainty little three-fold screen, with white and gold frame, and with shirred panels of pink and white silk, is near the table, ‘adding its own pretty effect to the room. CHAIRS AND OTTOMANS. ‘The chairs are all odd ones, one @ rocker of wicker painted white, another of wicker with high back and seat covered with tapestry. A i ith frame of ebony, has a brocade and anoth edge | and allowed to dry. When required for usc, 1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. Ir Fravonrma 1 AppEp tos hot custards part is lost. Bratrxa ax Eoo Wrra ax Eag Braren can never increase the bulk as when a fork is used. Brroke Cuorrixe Svrt be sure to take out all dredge with flour before chopping. ‘Venr Tacx Cnzam should be whipped with a fork and then put into a whip chura. To mold whipped cream add gelatine. Wax Ustxa Eoas once in a while break the ends carefully and save the shells for little molds. Blancmange looks very pretty served in this way for a change. Ir You Wisu to Kerr Pickiss in glass fruit jars rub the insides of the metal cape with lard. cans with caps lined with porcelain are much to be preferred for all purposes. ‘Wars Tinep oF Lewox axp VaNiiia FLavon- 1xo try mixing them. To » teaspoonful of lemon extract add about a third of a teaspoon- fal of vanilla and you will think you have dis- covered a new flavor. To Sxxp Razsrxs let them lie in boiling water two or three minutes, then pour on cold water; the seeds will then push out easily. When cut- ting raisins keep a bowl of water in which to free the knife from the seeds. Wasa Cunsaxts sx Drepora Taxx Wirt Frove, then rub them well with the bands to remove the grit, water through until it will run clear. Then let them lie ona clean napkin until dry; never dry currants in the oven. To Prevent Pre Juice From Ruxxrxa out in the oven, make a little opening in the upper crust and insert 2 little roll of brown paper rpendicularly. The steam will escape from it as from a chimney, and all the juice will be retained in the pie. ‘To Maxe Eco Paxt Puesznves, to equal fig Preserves, take and nicely peel the plant, and then slice to suit and boil in common sugar, molasses or sirup, or can use sugar as you would to make any other preserve, and nothing will equal it in preserves. ‘To Maxx 4 Goop Ceitry Savce eut up and stew in a half pint of water until tender two fine heods of celery. Cream up » teaspoonful of flour with a large spoonful of butter, add to celery with salt and pepper and a cup of sweet cream. Stew a moment and serve. Delicious to eat with game or poultry. CELERY A La Cneae.—Cut the celery in pieces. and boil till tender; stir a little cream over the fire with the yolks of two eggs and when well mixed lay the celery in this with salt, white pepper, a very little mace, some grated lemon peel, and it all over the fire till hot. It must not boil. Is Maxine a Boren Crsrarp there are sev- eral signs by which to tell whether it is done. If when a spoon is dipped into a custard a coating remains upon the spoon it is done, but if the m comes out clean it is not cooked suffi- ciently. Also when the froth di ypears from the top of a custard itis a sign that it is thick- ening. Ose War rx Wace tae Damp or Evaro- RATED APPixs can be made palatable is to stew them slowly for a long time. When thoroughly done, so there will be no lumps, pass through a colander, making » homogenous mass about the color and thickness of apple butter. Add “he juice of a lemon, cinnamon and cloves with discretion and sugar liberally. Oives May Be Senvep at all times and with most all dishes; in fact, they may be placed on the table with the table decorations and remain there until the dinner or lunch ia over. One guest may pass them to another. It is not nec- to have the waiter m them. They are Passed at a dinn mi. a the pA ng but may te pened Savin four times, as the plates are being changed for the dinner courses. For Uxrrixo Carppoanp, paper and small articles of fancy work the best glue dissolved with about one-third the weight of coarse brown sugar in the smallest ntity of boiling water is very good. When this isin a liquid state it may be dropped in a thin cake upon a plate one end of the cake may be moistened slightly and rubbed on the substances to be joined. “Exting Wueat” Baeap is very nutritious and easily made, as it docs not require any kneading. Take three pints of the flour, mixed with one quart of water and half a cake of com- pressed yeast. Let this stand over night, and in the morning add another pint of flour, two tablespoonfuls of salt, two of sugar rd one of melted butter. Stir the whole well and set it to rise again ‘in the baking tins. ‘They should be two-thirds full, allowing it to rise until even with the top, when they should be put in the | oven. = Orsren Gvwno requires an old chicken and fifty oysters, with a half pound of ham. Cut up two onions fine, fry them in lard and thicken the gravy with flour; a teaspoonful will be enough. “Cut up the chicken a put them to fry with the onions. gently till brown, then put in a pint of boiling water and boil the chicken until it is almost in pieces. | Ten minutes. before dinner pour in the oysters and their liquor. When ready for | P® the table take @ large spoonful of fresh pow- dered eassafras leaves or filee, wet it with a little of the soup and stir it into the soup. If not thick or ropy enough stir in another fal. | Do not let the soup boil after the is put in, but serve immediately. A Base Flatterer. From the New York Herald. MEN OF NERVE. How They Always Have the Advantage Over ‘From the New York Ledger. ‘A play used to be popular in New York called “The Nervous Man or the Man of Nerve.” The play is almost forgotten, but we have still among us both the kinds of men delineated. though in very unequal numbers. In Wall street there are probably a thousand nervous men to one man of nerve, but it is the man of nerve who gets ont of Wall street the victor | and generally, wherever we find him, he is apt | to become master of the situation. We may say, perhaps, that the man of nerve is related to the nervous crowd as the lion is to his prey. Some readers have doubtless had the pleasure of watching the exploits of Mr. Charles Parker, otherwise called “Steeple Charlie,” who enjoys ® monopoly in the business of painting and re- pairing high steeples and towers. I have seen him at work several times, and it is evident, if | = you observe him with an opera glass, that he is | Just as much at home 200 fect in the air. with | nothing between him and destruction but a thin cord, as he was eating buckwheat cakes for his breakfast. He prefers to ascend his steeple before sunrise, when no one but himself is | astir, and he adjusts his tackle without any assistance whatever, even when he has to aftix | & cross heavier than himself to the top of a |: steeple. He can do these things because he is 88 cool and quiet in his nerves up there near the ‘clouds as another [mEB would be while ‘orating a feet ' It was so with Blondin tho used to make, cook and eat an omelet on a tight rope 100 feet above the ground, and who carried a man on his back on a stretched across Niagara | river. When he descended from hie rope after Performing these feats his pulse was perfectly natural, and the man had evidently done his work with absolute ease. I bave conversed with the man whom he carried across Niagara. He said that it was his knowledge of this fact that gave him the confidence to take that ex- traordinary ride over the ab; sure he could do it I, who hi for two years, was also sure of it. | This quality, call it nerve or what you will, is by all men of great executive force. r. Clews, the banker, in bis well-known work | upon Wall street, gives an amusing illustration of this truth in’ describing one of Mr. Jay Gould's lieutenants, a man naturally of excit- able and demonstrative temperament. “He bas,” says Mr. Clews, “the composed, unexcitable manner of Gould to perfection and is never known, no matter how great the provo- cation may be, to speak except in low-pitched | 3e. j In the case of the chief this manner indi- cates the manner of the man arid stamps him as the man of nerve. All the successfal generals appear to have Poscsted this quality in an eminent degree. Von Moltke, as is well known, isa devoted whist player. During the French war, whenever cir- cumstance permitted it, this game was his favorite evening amusement, and it often hap- pened that telegrams would be handed to him of the greatest importance while he was playing. ‘The general would read them with tantalizing deliberation without the slightest change of told me he was been his agent countenance, lay them on the table with the | 4 writing downward and play out the game with | perfect serenity. It was remarked at the time that the arrival of these telegrams was much more disturbing to the nervous men playing with him than to the man of nerve to whom they were addressed. Bon: occasionally gave away to explo- sions of anger, which, however, were often feigned for the purpose of impressing and alarming the person with whom he conversed. But on the battle-field, as well as during the critical hours preceding a battle, he was as cool as Blondin, who resembled him in appearance, \d he gained a little in weight in the most ex- ing years of his life. In Italy, at 27, he was still meager and gaunt. At Austerlitz, seven Years later, he was in good condition; and when ‘six years later he warried Marie Louise, he was rotund and verging toward the v. This shows that while he fretted and frightened the whole civilized world, and made life more difti- cult for every honest man in Christendom, the Perpetrator of the mischief was very much at ease. A singular case was that of Gen. Grant, who was one of the small number of soldiers in the late war who never swore. But this was not so remarkable as the fact which he once men- tioned in conversation, that he had the need of expletives. Most men, if bat falls upon their sensitive toc, relieve their feelings by explosive words, but he never did. He seemed to be duvoid of the nervous suscep tibility that makes men use Tidicu- Joualy “violent pon ‘experiencing a mudden shock of pain sone of his aids remarked: . Grant not oaly never swore, but he never wanted to.” ig Vellington, on the contrary, was a profuse user of expletives and 60 was Nelaon, but both exhibited Blondinian at critical moments. When the late Earl Russell was a very young man Le visited Wellington’ guatters in Spain and he sat next to him at h inner in the evening. While the general and is staff were at dinner the most active prepara: tions were going on for a retreat that very night—a retreat involving the abandonment of | Madrid. The young guest knew i of this. Wellington was particularly merry, tell- ing comic stories itning” and ‘Anse ly battered by the on,” ene- ‘After dinner,” says Earl Rnssell, “my com- ions and I were informed by Col. Ponsonby that a retreat was resolved upon for that night, and we were advised to pack ourselves off as quickly as we could. We lost no time in fol- lowing that advice, and, for my part, found a very comfortable ‘bed on a heap of chopped straw some leagues from Burgos.” Wellington had the faculty of taking a nap on the very eve of battle and even during an action while he was waiting for the develop- ment of an extensive maneuver. The coolness of some famous orators has often been admired. Mr. Gladstone once men- tioned afact about himself which goes far to- ward explaining the retention of his wonderful powers in his eighty-third year. He said that the most exciting and protracted debate in which he had ever taken part did not keep him awake five minutes after his head touched the iow. We have all known speakers whose + become so disordered by a short after- ner speech that they cannot sleep for hours rward. Probably Wendell Philips was not a: cool before an audience as he always peared to be. | For many years before his deat ¢ had premonitions of heart disease, a malady to which nervous men are peculiarly subject, but which seldom affficts the man of ne Great masters of the art of writing, as their manuscripts attest, perform their task with ‘one described very littic fret or strain. Some Sir Walter Scott sitting at a window wri 0 Liter No. 1&EL fc onds of the District of Reends of the District of ot ured thirteen (3), tm mquare sin being the east “20 Stier with The imyres ___AUCTION_ SALES. SALE OF NE SO : TH STREET AND FILST STREET WEST. ‘Spd _by virtue of deed of trust the om, im front ot ) DAY Ys! > FIKST sir mh folio 2 STREET W A dew ‘and No. 14: Ay Wantitue s frou day of sale At rink of default when ta « Ww _A20-ro.tts Of sale a frou day of sale the tr at risk cf defi : be required DARE ECO, A Retr, aie W BRICK HOUSE IWEEN SOUTH Ci oF Tx TPO tren SOUTH Car rT. PEREMPTORY SALE BY CATALOGUE OF THE CONTENTS OF THE EXTENSIVE AND WELL- KNOWN STABLES OF ALLISON NATLOR, 14TH STREET AND PF AVE Mr. ving sold his property and determined bs he mae WAL be pumice ISO, AT TEN ALM nything i sold. ‘The this city and cum first-class Livery ase ATCLIFFE, DARE & 20 Beansyivania. Tors. Toys. PEREMPTORY SALE RY AUCTION BALANCE OF THE SLOCK ©) ME CHK KUP REMOVED TO OUK iso CONSISTING OF Tors EVERY DESCRIPTION. SUCH AS 1X 2KNS, ALS, WAGONS "A BIRD CAG MENT OF STO “AN: ten ‘PHOMAS DOWLIN TRUSTEES: SALE OF VALUABLE PROPERTY IN GROKGETOW m, «dem rabid orebieant ou eye wet fy hve Of sth street, thence souk thence east “fitty-uve hetice north a a TEs TEES’ SALI WITH Is, ‘ad tee lane records of the est of the party Trustees will sell at’ pul preanises, on MOND, YA ten (10), e fourteen’ UI > He PAL INSTRUMENT MEN archase ror = ENENSIS, ruse a0 HUGH T. TAGGART, Tr Auctioneers, ave. now TOYS. or ine eS GUNS TOvS AND THON ter & bar novel with singular composure, writing rapii Dieta in ten 10) i The manuscrij ys trom day of usteee erve the ricbt ape ey a ak to tees oe enay, | Resell atrnk nad com tthe Sette Parchner afer mastery which he pon of hisart. Itflows "Ad ito ‘on evenly page with scarcely an ae reittee erasure, and there is me deterioration it) the TRUE roses handwriting in the last Dickens, on ‘Trustee, the contrary, toiled over his work, and made | 7, achange in almost every line after he hed written it. Can this valuable quality be acquired? Prob- ably not. Some small decree of it may be at- | Car tainable, but when it is possessed in an eminent degree, it appears to be a constitutional and hereditary quality. Mr. Gough. who addrossed in his lifetime 7,000 audiences, used to say that he never went upon a platform without a feeling of trepidation, I have myself heard (ex. BB Duties ‘say that, on rising to he is always conscious of a weakness at Vay P-M-. nil that parcel SALE OF THIKD STRE TS SOUTHWES" decree of the Supreme By virtue of Disirict of Columbia, jmamed in’ Equity, ‘on TU + A.D. 1801, at HALE ‘of Teal veyed to knees. Some of the oldest actors and the | und bec: most successful are not free from this strange infirmit Nor eau it be said thagcoolness of nerve a result health. During the last and i t he never knew what it was to be excited or te of failure, and we know that on the PROFESSIONA ie auction. in front THE SIXTH DA’ PAST FOU UNIMPROVED PROP. pt BETWEEN € AND Court of the Do. 123i, it of the OF JAN orc stances permitted, Perfect calm at | Astrologer and Mediuan in this -t'; born with every moment until the day was decided. Yet fal prophetic tft of serous sieht reveals every. hho was more St for the hospital on that day than | iden my neg ands unt‘ wien property Orbat too Berg, adic nine ove the So a It is that the Indians should be | 2 soubi of All vasuess Lay me ad and the collegians Tequired | "Hours, 9am. to9p.m. Open Sundays, Bittings, GOe. Residence 479 II st. aw., between 4% and Oh ao She—“‘And what have you ever done to prove et yuomr *oyant and eet gn the ache dnuptet trm He—“Done. Why, I have done without my Sith com. hans w Sa Junch every day for « week in order to take you | 224 jP<k) cats 7 to the opera last night. —_Manhatian, ADAM ESTELLE TATE OF EW Wes “He's clever enough, but «man Ca ot scald my se. He wound an |i Mica Ome bees ey Brown—“T — me, Be oon a5 jet 2 sve. or gt ae i