Evening Star Newspaper, May 16, 1891, Page 7

= KING DAVID'S FRIEND. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY WALTER BESANT. CHAPTER L CS Oke You GOT YOUR LETTERS BY the mail, Longden?” “No, Ihaven't, my son. Inever do get any letters. I have left off expecting letters.’ His chum, who was « new arrival, looked sur- prised. “Why, man, I've been here fifteen years—fif- teen years; think of that! Fifteen years If I wore s coolie, dead and buried fifteen years ago. my grave trodden level with the ground, I couldn't be more forgotte: “But you've got friends at home. You must have people “{ have. There’s my elder brother, the Prig— T've got him. And there are cousins by dozens, first and second and second once removed. ‘And [had a father; but he is dead, poor old man! Friends? Plenty of friends. As for friendships—well! But once I had » true friend. We outdid David snd Jonathan. So far as I know Davidnever—but, then, Jonathan young and perhaps there were passages. pooner S aiviod, an heal friendship—no two friends ever more so; because, you see, in the higher planes of friendship what one gives the other Bas got to accept. The world doesn't understand this, for there is no friendship in Dasiness; and we are mostly business men, there are no friends.” a't understand.” So more do I now. It was t, but it wasn't busiress—— Well, as I said, I hada true friend once, a more than pal, a closer than brother. Where is that true friend now?” “When you go home again” “I never shail go Lome again, sonny. This is my home. Very thankful I ought tobe to have-such abome. What more can a man de- From 10 to 4 the healthful labor of the office. Home to this elegant mansion at 5. A stroll on the shore till half-past 6 or so. Dinner —the finest dinner in the world, with the best claret in the world. No promotion, even, to agitate the soul.” “You wil! get promotion some day. You must. Oh! it is shameful.” “You will, you boy. As for me—what does it matter? I draw two hundred rupees a month. Iam junior in the audit office. We live in this agreeable mansion of three rooms and a veranda. Its walls are made of packing cases, and its roof is made of the tin which formeriy Tined those cases: it is surrounded by a lovely compound containing three ragged bananas and a prickly pear, and it is furnished samp: ously. Beold! Style, second empire, for the most part.” ‘The speaker—a man with a countenance still ruddy, spite of his tropical experience, and a big brown beard, « large-limbed man—lay back in bis chair and’ replaced his pipe between his lips. He spoke bitterly, but his face was not bitter and his eyes were as kindly as the eyes of any silver king or lord of a nitrate boom could be. The other was young man of one and twenty, just beginning his career in the same ® id servies which had taken away the clier man's youth. The united resources of this mess were slender, and when the rent of twenty rupees a month bad been paid and the ‘wages of their one servantand the dhobie and the claret (which was dear at 5d. the bottle) and the whisky and the stringy beef and the skinny chicken which graced their board, there really was very little left for the minor luxuries. Yet in lands where twice a year there falls no shade on any side of rock or house the minor luxuries are to most the simplest necessities. On the two sides of the room were two small bed rooms, in each a bed, a mosquito curtain, anarm wire, s chair and s washstand. The room in front opened upon a small veranda. “Well, my boy,” Longden went on, “you shall have better luck; you shall get promoted early; you shall leave me and meet with other romotions—chief clerk, presently, t; acting head o! edi to come other colony ; colonial sec- retary somewhere else: lieutenant governor, CMG., ernor, K.C.M.G. Heart up, sonny! world is all before you.” ‘The younger man wasa little certed at this outburst: when one is it is hard to understand that a man of fiveand thirty, which seems an age so advanced, anda man who has “stuck” in his upward flignt, and one who is invariably cheerful and apparently con- tented, should ever bave had ambitions. Longden’s case was exceptional. There are ty of shady ishmen who get taken on the colony in obscure branches of the gov- ernment services with never a chance or a hope of promotion; but for a young man to be actu- ally sent our by the colonial office at the age of twenty to begin, as he should, with his foot on what you like with it. If you suffer from the consequences reveal it; I am altogether in your hands. If at any time in the future you can advance yourself by m of that paper use it. You have the right to use it.” “He certainly said that,” murmured the au- dience. “He said it, and I have the paper still, and he is governor and I ama junior in his audit office.” Then he looked again and he saw a girl. She turned her eyes from one to the other in astonishment. A very beautiful girl she was. - 9 sight of her the audience caught his reat “Why.” she said, “what is the matter with you . “Eva,” cried the man burden was to whose be transferred, but said no more. “Eva,” said Jack, “I am sorry you have come at this moment, but you may as well hear the ‘truth at once.” She looked quickly, “Truth? What truth?” not at Jack, but at the other. “The truth is,” said Jack, “that a boon!» dis sraceful thing has been found out, and that Iikety for yin ing to say good-bye—most t is it, Harry?" She caught him by the arm. “Why do you look like this?” _ “Because he is my friend, Eva. I have shamed him. It is I who have done this dis- graceful thing. You had better go now, both you,’ tg 20% he said that,” murmured the audience. ‘And they went away and left the guilty man. And there was an end of everything.” ‘The guilty man folded the confession placed it in his pocket book. “Well,” he “I would have done more than that for Eva's sake, not to of Harry. Idon’t suppose she will ever know that I have done it or why. Now we must face the footlights.” The scene disappeared and the black night re- Longden was on the veranda again and said, a imto the darkness; he heard the gentle lapping of the water on the coral reef and the knell of the bell buoy tolling out at sea beyond the harbor and the filhaos mourned and sighed in the fresh sea breeze. “Yes,” said Longden. “He was eighteen and he believed in friendship. What did the other man believe in?” And he remembered how the thing which he had assumed was really a much more serious thing than he had believed, in fact thing which stains; s thing which will not wash off; a thing for which he was immediately sent home to his father, who refused to receive him; for which, in fact, he was bundled off to «small clerkship in a distant colony, with no farewells except from his elder brother—the Prig—who informed him that it was never too late to build up anew character on the ruins of one which had been destroyed. Vhen Jonathan died,” Longden murmured, “David wept and lamented. Suppose Jon- atban had disap) in disgrace only to be recovered when David was king over Israel?” He went to his room and to his bed in the dark. But he slept little. and when he awoke im the morning it was with an uneasy sense of having become King David and of having found his old friend Jonathan adding up the accounts in the chief steward’s chamber and of being em! by the discovery. CHAPTER IIL ‘The monotony of life praised so highly was rudely broken by this strange event. The col- ony was so limited as to size, the officials so small in number, that the governor would ce: tainly know something about every one in the service. There was not the least doubt but King David would discover Jonathan. Henry Overston Dunkeld, king, would discover his old friend, John Lorimer Longden, among the scribes of the What would the king say? Would he call for a purple robe and wrap it round that scribe, and send him forth upon ‘& white horse richly caparisoned, with a trum- peter proclaiming the honors done by order of the king? Or should Jonathan begin it? Should he bow himself down upon the ground, saying: “O king, live forever. I am Jonathan, friend of thy youth, and I am held down in low estate by reason of a thing.” How would that do? Longden Rondered the subject long and doubtfully. What would happen? Asfor the confession, he had it still. ‘The papers lay among other papers ins desk. ‘there was 's letter from ther casting him off; one from his brother preaching s sermon as toa con- demned criminal. was a portrait of a girl—the Eva for whose sake his friend had con- sented; there was another of his friend bim- self, a gallant youth, and some letters from that friend, written before the fatal transfer—none after; and some verses written in praise of Eva, dancing—they were after Herrick. “If at any time in the future you can advance your- self by using that paper use it.” words returned again and again. How should be use it? He might place the paper into the hands of the governor, and leave the matter to him. ight goto him and say: “Iam your old friend. We know what we know, but We trust each other. So thinking, his h at old 2 the lowest rung and then to be left there is not common. After fifteen years he remained a junior in his ent; he drew, it is true, £20 a year, or double his original pay. but he had been by all his contemporaries and now stuck fast, apparently forgotten. Is was said that there was some scandal about him which stood in the way of his promotion— ing he had done. What that was did not takes definite form. Here, however, was | bel the fact: An tleman, of good family, left in ihe ower” ranches = @ colonial service, five and thirty years of age, possessed of every quality that should command success. ‘What did it mean? “There's some news in the special,” said the young.fellow. “We've got a — governor. He comes out next mail. Here's paper. He tossed it over. There wasa half column hastily printed with a summary of the month. Longden glanced down the paragraphs. Sud- denly be started, sat up and dropped the Pape: z “Good Lord!” he cried. “What is it?” asked is companion. Longden sprang to his feet. Then he out upon thedittle veranda before the poten and began to walk upand down with an energy Worthy of his native land in an east wind. Presently Longien came back and took up the paper and Tead slowly a second time the Parasreph that hed startled him, “Sir Henry werston Dunkeld, K.C.b., is the newly aj pointed governor. Sir Henry Dunkeld, the @idest son of Major General Dunkeld, B.A_, was educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he obtained a first-class and a fellowship in the year 1375. He was called to the bar in 1877: he sat in the house of commons for the borough of Chester on the conservative side from 1879 to 1832. He was then appointed lieutenant ernor of Penang. In 184 h was made gov- ernor of the Leeward Islands. Sir Henry is believed to possess great administrative abili nd his sympa- With any religious and philanthropic Movement are well known.” “Good Lord!" said Lon, once more. “And I am an assistant clerk in his audit CHAPTER IL. He stepped out again upon the veranda. The fea breeze had sprung up; the air was refreshed. ‘He drew « long breath and looked out into the darkness. His memory went back some seven- teen years. A morning came back to him. He happened, not as he saw it then, an actor on the scene, Lut he saw it now from the outside, here as the audience. The actors were two specters of the past, young men bo} ed, “I cannot let you do it. No friend can expect such a thing of an- other. .ongden’s name, in fact, was Jack, but it was fifteen years since he had been called by his Christian name and he had almost forgotten it—“Why, the 00d of being friends if we can’t stand by each Other? Look here—it’s a devil of a mess.” “It is, indeed. To me it is ruin—everything <everything is lost, including —inclading-— Eva. Good God! Who is to tell “Well, Harry, sooner than Eva shauld suffer Tloonet than you should suffer—Iwonld wuffer myself. Now, look here—I've done this thing Jog How not you a: all—not you at all” ie id his hand upon his friend's. “No, no—I cannot. Think of the conse- quences. “There will be a bitof a shindy. I daresay it Will blow over. My prig of anelder brother Will groan and say he always kuew—but you = be LaRED old a PoP nd so—what is use of being friends, and sworn friends, too, the burdens if'we sre not to bear of each ar?” The other but weakly and with tears and self-cccusations; it was too great a sacrifice. He had been a fool and a wretch, he Must take the o yuences. Then Jack re- marked that there was another person to con- sider, namely, a certain Eva. Above all = she was to be kept from the unhappiness Would full upon ber if she kuew. the other man gave way. But he made adition; so much grace was left to him. t down and be wrote at . gov- | friend: he ssid to himself that he must have THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D.C.. SATURDAY, MAY 16;°1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. story as this believed of him is like is lamed for life.” Such an actionsach # fall tion--such @ can never be retrieved. Pity! pity!" Then he Went into his private room and shut the door.” CHAPTER V. A few days after this conversation the post- man delivered » letter to John Longden, audit office. He dropped the letter into his pocket and went on with his auditing. When the clock struck 4 the other clerks made haste to leave their work. Longden lingered. When they were all gone he drew ont the letter and looked at it. she to may? ie cha. bow ‘othing’? He to say’ ie can know ” opened tha letter. “Dear Jack,” it began in the most friendly manner possible. “Dear Jack,” and from Lady Dunkeld, the queen of the colony, sole consort of King David. Why had she not written “Dear Jonathan?” “I have only just heard that you are in the colony. I know and I appreciate the reason why you have not come to see me. Yet I must see you, if not in my own drawing room in the presence of the aid-de-camp, then alone. I must see you. Come to the private gardens of the government house on Sunday morning at 11:30,when the governor and every- body are at church. I will meet you beside bagjn. For the sake of old times when we were all ‘innocent and hopeful together. Do not fail. Your old , Eva.” “I wonder what she means?” Jack finished the letter, which did not require a second read- ing, and replaced it in his pocket. “What can she mean? She did not recognize me, though he did. People don’t talk about me at Govern- ment House. Who told her? If David the King told her David the King must have felt prickings. I will f°." Soon after 11, when the governor, his dat ter, his daughter's governess oS camp were in their w cal a in ‘his seat and the civil waviness ice, Jack Lon: chaplain was reading the se - ont ‘the private grounds of the den foundyhimself in Government House. No one at all, noteven an Indian gardener, was in the gardens. He found a bench in the shado and sat down. He had not long to wait. He heard a foot step, and rose to meet a lady who walked quickly along one of the paths. She was alone. suffered from thinking of what had been done; but that for Eva's sake—doubtless now his wife—the thing was well done. He would do it again, whatever happened. ‘th the rest of the world, with the acting wernor, the bishop, the colonel commandant. legislative council and the heads of depart- ments, he went down to the quay—he did not stand with these illustrious persons, but well hind them in the crowd—to receive the governor. His excellency, Sir Henry Dunkeld. K. C. M. G., came ashore in the harbormaster’s launch, with an awning and a crew of six stout negroes. He was accompanied by his wife, his daughter, & child of ten, his daughter's governess and his Rgtaie ‘Oh, yes; Jack Longden knew him at once. And Lady Dunkeld, too—Eva, of course. Then he had married Eva. There she was, and after seventeen years a lovely woman still.’ Of course he would have recognized her, too, at once. His heart became very soft, watching these old friends of his youth. His excellency drew near. Jack leaned for- ward a little and lifted his hit, not with the idea of catching his eyes at all; but the governor saw him—saw him—and he stopped suddenly, turned white and reeled. “It is nothing,” |, recovering quickly. “The heart—a sudden faintness. Let ee go ‘on? ‘The procession went on. But the governor looked back once more into the crowd. For he had seen, after seventeen years, standing among | **! the common people, the 6ld friend of his youth, by whose act and deed he himself was what he was and where he was. “He recognized me,” said Jonathan. stri away. “He caught my eye and he knew me. saw bim change color and stop. Strange meet- ing after so many years! He wil! send for me tomorrow, and we shall have a talk. Of course he will trust me still. Should I | paper? I think not.” So while the new governor ‘entertained the legislative council ‘at a banquet his old friend sat at dinner in his cabin and content- edly munched his curried beef and drank his sour claret and water and congratulated him- self on the beauty and happiness of the wife for whose sake he had taken this burden upon himself. In the morning, when he recalled the landing and the recognition, he understood that in the latter there was surprise or dismay, terror, but nota sign of joy. And he ceased 10 feel quite so warmly toward his old friend. CHAPTER Iv. So he did nothing. The new governor paid Visits to various places in his kingdom, and gained great popularity by his affability and by the many charms and graces of his wife. But he made no sign at all to his old friend. ‘Time went on. Three mouth passed and no advance was made. “I say. Longden,” said his chum, one da; “T heard something this morning that I should like to tell you.” “Tell away, old nan.” “It concerns yourself, and I want you not to get angry about it.” “I won't. Tel away.” “T was in private secretary's room sit- ting at a separate table Perso ecis_ for him. Well, the governor passed through on his way to his own room. He stopped at the secretary's table and began to talk—I suppose no one noticed me. He was talking about offi- cers and salaries. Presently he ted to a name on the list—and looked at his secretary a “J. L. Longden, , heise very good clerk r “*‘He has been heres long time." ““T think he has no friends at home. There is nothing against him. Notanything out here ~-st home, and a long while ago.” Then he told a story about you, jen.” You needn't repeat the'story,” said “TI believe I have heard the brother, the Prij send him that | bi “Thank you, Jack,” said, giving him her han G “Iam here, Lady Dunkeld,” he began, but he broke down. “Eva!” he cried, “you have not forgotten me—t man who disgraced himself!" “No, no; youare here. I learned it only the other day, and you are quite low down in the service. He told me. It is horrible! it is dread- y—some must rise and some must fall. And after that ugly business—" “Jack, I know all.” “What do you know? There was an awful row about it, and my father wouldn't have me in the house, and my brother—you remember my brother—he was always an awful prig—he surpassed himself and made reconciliation im- possible, and everything else, so they found me & place’ out here, and I suppose my brother kindly told them ‘at the colonial office, and so the story came out here, and—that’s all. Of course, promotion is impossible for a man with such a story as that behind him. Well, Eva— Lady Dunkeld—that is all. What does it mat- ter now?” For his old friend was looking strangely at him and the tears were in her eyes. “Oh!” she repeated, “it is horrible! It is dreadfal ! “No, not so dreadful ag you think. There is enough to live upon, and what more can a man desire, aman with ‘such #story as that behind him?” She sat down on the bench beside him and bowed her head and wept aloud. “Nay,” he said, “It is too much that I should’ “Jack!” she sprang to her fect again. “You tear my very heart. You tear me to piecos— for I know all—all—all—I tell you that I know “You cannot know all. It is impossible.” “I have known it for ten years. He fell ill and was on the point of death and confessed it all to me. I promised, thinking he was on his deathbed, to carry his message of remorse. He did not die, but the message remains. Take it. His prayer for forgiveness. “Yes, but he got better,” said Longden, ‘yly. “So he told you, did’be? It was not well done. It was a breach of confidence. Why, it was inthe thought that you would never “And I do know. Jack, nothing that he ean do or say could destroy the wrong of all years.” “Nothing. And yet, you see, I took the con- sequences, whatever they might be. . They did turn out’ rather more unpleasant than I thought, but I have not complained.” - “If you were to stand up tomorrow and read aloud the confession which he gave you that would not give you back these lost and ruined “No,” said Jack. “It might astonish people more than a bit. But-it wouldn’t help me.” “Have you ever thought that—about this sublime self-sacrifice of your common youth— that it would be wholly destroyed and rendered worse than useless were it to become known?” “I do not understand. I have always, on the other hand, looked forward to a time’ when, somehow or other, my character should be set Fight again—if only to disappoint my brother, who is a prig. “He, who was then a young man like your- self, with his future all before him, is now » man who has succeeded—he has won distinction and reputation; he has a wife and children— children, Jack.’ If you rui#him—es you may— as you can—you ruin the children and you de- stroy the wife.’ “This is what you “I see,” he replied. wanted to say to me. ‘To be sure I hadn't con- sidered that.” “When we landed, he saw you on the port and recognized you. He said nothing to me— at the time, but I perceived that he was anx- fous and unhappy. It is three months, and during the whole time he has been in an agony of terror and remorse. A few daysago he heard the old story told again—the story that he thought forgotten was repeated to him, at- to your name. It is common property— the talk of his secretaries. He jis well-nigh mad with the recollection and the hideousness of it.” aciConfoand the story. That's my brother's loing.”” “L told him Ishould see you. He has gone tochurch this morning—to church—knowiny that I'am to meet you fore. ‘What am I to mi “Why,” said Jack, “considering it is three months since he cameand that I have not made any sign he might take it for Com gy od am not going to move or to speak. deny, Eva, that when I heard he, was coming I was good bit shaken. I thought that I might what be proposed doing. say that tis tne what he proposed doing. I say that this tem, {ation did aseail me.I am ashamed to ova that it did.” “Jack,” she interrupted him quickly, “there is no safety possible for us so long as that paper remains in your hands. Consider—you may die; you may fall il; you may even, God for- ive me for saying so, fall away and betray us fine noblest inheritance of my children ie father’s honor. It lies at the mercy of an acci- dent. His honor! Think of what it is to him— to me—toall of us. Do not leave that to chance. ‘There is but one person in the world that knows the truth—it is yourself, ‘There is but one proof of the trathit is that paper.” He made no reply. She went on again more passionately: “Put it beyond your own power, most loyal of men, to betray and to ruin us. Leave to m: children their father’s honor; leave him to fol- low out his career to the end. Will you do this—for me—for my past?” anxious to speak for once and s0 to have done a i —in memory of | » the ‘Then Jack spoke—slowly because he was | S#l- give thom to you, Lady Dunkeld, on one condi- conditions.” ‘ay thie ie condition. Ttis “Nay—t be fat durin the whole of Ihe oficial recidence ere ATTRACTIVE HOMES. The Task Dreaded by Every House- keeper at This Season of the Year, ROOMS AND FURNITURE ‘Mast Now Put Off Their Winter Clothes and Don Thetr Summer Attire—How a Model Room is to Be Made Light and Airy “There is 5 ite safe. If] Sitting were to prociaim ated truth tomorrow no| forthe Warm Weather. : one wor believe @ word of it, and an action for libel would be my re ¥ one heard ho nent = oy ‘Written for The Evening Star. east. “What can I sa 000: SPRING HAS BEEN can never thank you enough? Sica O@= dreamed conducive toward making the heavy winter furnishings and hangings tolerable for longer time than is usual in this climate. It is always a task to be dreaded by every house- keeper, that of overseeing the putting-away Process which comes at this season. When all the pretty, attractive articles of furniture went into brown linen coverings, bound almost invariably with red worsted braid, the change from the cheerful winter aspect of rooms to the monotonous, colorless one of summer was almost depressing. That linen covers looked ‘and were cool is true, but as te attractiveness they had no claim whatever. Now, however, with more attention paid to our interiors, living rooms as well as rooms for receiving visitors, there is a charm a¥out the summer garb of rooms as there is about summer gowns. This airy, pretty effect can be attained much most noble thing, and I, cannot even tell my children. You are suffering contumely and cannot even offer to relieve you, nothing can relieve you. uencescontinue. One man sinned and another his life for that sin. lies the real morse. That is our punishment. We are not worthy to touch your hand. Go, Jack, I will give him the paper. We will keep your condi- He lifted his hat and turned without another word. So they parted, who will never meet CHAPTER VI. ‘The monotony of his life, broken in this manner, began again. The conditions were kept. The governor took no notice of him at all. The time passed by. Sir Henry Dunkeld | more easily and economically than an equally drew near to the end of his time; Jack was now en rete hig furnishings salable f forty, still an assistant clerk; still to outward » for the reason that cotton goods— eretonnes, satines and the like—are 60 cheap now, and are in such lovely designs as well. SUMMER ATTIRE FOR A SITTING ROOM. The subject is before me just now, for I have eon asked for suggestions for putting a sitting reom inte summer attire, without much outlay of money, but where the young mistress of the household has plenty of time and energy to w on.her room, which she wishes to have as attractive as possible, it is also her deter- mination to spend most of the warm weather here in town, so it will be well worth while to bea little more elaborate than as if her house was to be closed and the coverings for furniture only for protection from the dust of solitude. As the floor is rather dark in tone and so re- quires a good deal of care to keep it free from lust in the days when windows are open all the time it has been decided to cover it entirely with matting for summer uso. This makes less work, looks fresh, is ® complete change and next winter its polished barenese will seem all the better for its brief obscurity, when the matting is laid aside and the ‘dark rugs put in their accustomed places once more. ‘There isa great variety of mattings to chose from and those with bine, yellow and green predominat- ing are very pretty, bus the most refined look ing is that wit in ground and the irregular dashes of color through it, in black, dark blue, dark green and brown. “fhe room contains & lounge, several chairs upholstered, a large square polished table of mahogany and has open bookcases with heavy curtains and a large ‘square ottoman. SUBSTITUTES FOR HEAVY CURTAINS AKD FOR_ —, as contented as the most successful of men; still living in his shanty near the sea- shore. Long since the youngster who messed with him when Sir Henry Dunkeld arrived had Passed him on the ladder of promotion, and ‘Was in a moss where they to society and gave dinners and went to One day, a little while before this governor left the colony, Jack’s own chief sent for him. “Tought to tell you, Lor he said, “that an attempt has been with his ex- cellency to recommend you for the vacant Post it wae that of ‘sesisiant auditor general. 't was pointed out that there is no one in the ofice who possesses anything like your know!- edge or your grasp of the office and its work. Bat, unfortunately, without success. In fact, his excellency refused absolutely. You know the reason, I dare say.” “[ think I do. There is a story about my having got into @ mess before coming out here—* “That is the ." said the chief, anxious to spare him further “There are some messes which the worl to condone.” “And his excellency cannot condone this. Of course I have known it for a long time.” “There is no man in the world, I do believe, of higher principle than Sir Henry Dunkeld. Sometimes, however, one would wish for a lit- tle less austerity, in this case, especially. He says that those who occupy the higher official positions must be able to show blameless record privately as well as officially. Lord help us all if he knew as much asI know. Upon my word, Longden, I have done all I can for you. Tam more than sorry for you.” “Thank you," said Longden and reured. CHAPTER VIL The other day I meta man at the club, an old acquaintance, and we began to talk of other men, which is the only topic of conversation open to those who are old acquaintances, but not old friends. “Said he, presently, “Did you know Canon Longden?” “No; he was a bit before my time.” “Not a bad sort, but too good, you know. Carried goodness to unforgiveness. A prig of virtue, what I always thought of him. Irritated one, you know, by an unreasonable hatred of the wicked world—used to despise sinners. Now I like a man who hasa little feeling for the slips and the stumblee—eh? Well—Canon Longden’s dead.” “Is he?” I repiied, not much interested. “Yes. He had a very tidy property near us. He had no children and was. widower, and was not on speaking terms with his only brother, and 0 we rather expected he would have left it for objects, you know—converting niggers and building charche “Well, didn't he?” “Not a bit of it. He forgot to make = will, and so the property goes, I hear, to this Tiserible colonial sppoiatceat poses age cher imieerable colonial ting into a devil of mess. ‘His tasily cat im and now he is coming home to take all the family money. So the prig of virtue has ended in enriching ‘the sinner. I remember Jack On| well, anda better youngster never lived. How he enme to do it—but ‘A man who had been sitting near us by fireside rose and walked quickly down the room. “Know him? That is Sir Henry Dunkeld, G. 0. B., and G. C. M. G., and governor of half her ‘majesty’s colonies, one after the othe Another: prig of virtue, he is. Going tobe made a peer, I believe. I say, when this colonial = this a Sele gee! i live on his property, I suppose the people won't be ing up past scandals, will they? It’s wonderful though, how things stick. I I shouldn't wonder if they refuse to call upon TIERES. There are curtains at the windows ands heavy portiere at the wide doorway into the adjoining hall. It goes without saying that curtains and tiores are to be pecisa way, the place of the latter being supplied by one of the pretty cross- stripe curtains I mentioned some time ago. ‘These were only to be procured ata certain time, when a few odd ones were sold. With this room in prospect, however, one of these cotton curtains was bought—white with deep dado border of old pink stripes. This will be hung at the doorway on the same rod as the winter portiere and looped back to give easy egross and ingress. < For furniture covering I'should get » satine which comes in cream ground, with extremely pretty designs of bunches of flowers in several colors, with old pink predominating, and roses and tulips the prominent flowers. This is as pretty as some of the French eretonnes at 75 cents andonly costs 1234 cents. HOW To COVER THE FURNITURE. For the easy chairs I should make slip covers as smoothly fitting as possible, and with a nar- row bor-plaited ruffle around the bottom. For the square ottoman a cover may be made by having a square of satine large enough so that {t will reach to the foot on the sides, and with F 8) ae to just reach to the floor‘also. “A rule like that od the chatr come should finish the edge of this also. ‘The box iting may be three inches wide, and should stitched gn with the right side of that and the cover tdgether, making the seam come on the wrong ide. If this loose cover over the ottoman slips about, a shield can fasten it to the ottoman under the rufii the seam, for the ruffle is set on the edge of the goods. FoR THE LOUNaR. For'the lounge a similar cover is msde, in effect like the Bagdad curtain, which was the winter covering. For this a width of the satine can be taken long enough to reach well over the slight riso at the head and to the floor at the foot. The spread should likewise reach to the floor on the sides, and in order to make it do so. width as long'as the other should be it in half lengthwise and sewed on to each end of the first iength in order to avoid a seam down the middle of the cover. All around the four sides of this cover the narrow box-plaited ruffle should extend, and it then may be draped over tho couch exactly like the cur- tain or similar loose covers. If one likes the cover may be fastened at each corner, with the fallness caught in a rosette, as the heavier draperies are arranged, lounge adorned in this way will be p set well out into the room if possible, « tion near a window being desirable. The silk or other pillows may have over-covers of the led, and with one side open and tied ‘at the back with tapes, so they can be washed. For the mahogany table which is a catchall ————+e+______ TYPES OF TOBACCO SMOKERS. How the Weed is Held and What the Position Signfies, From the Indianapolis News. ‘A man’s thoughts may be read in his cigar. The way he holds it between his lips will gi the observer a suggestion as to what manner of man the smoker is. You have seen all of these smokers, or their types, faithfully represented here. There are men who don't smoke at all, but who always haveacigar in their mouth. In fact they have what is continually » “cigar- mouth.” The man who sinks once dusted, it would be his teeth through his make pretty and useful to 8 large cover of or not only in matters of art, but as regards the rt in the all in days and still the expense | Things Being Tstked About im the Big hy ittle advance in cost one could City. have cretonne with light and lovely all- —— over or the dimity of wi I] DR BRIccs’ AGGRESSIVE ProstTION—wHAT WILL spoke a ago. BE THE OUTCOME OF THE THEOLOGICAL DISPU- ‘There was one of these latter goods in .TION—BIG wide white stripe, with one almost as wide in} 7 SCILO(Nes I GOTRAN—GEAIRATS green with a little red, which was pretty | ™48MIxos om mI Boor. and would be equally good used in the same — manner as the satine. This was, I beliovo, 15 | Special Correspondence of The Bventng Star. ‘ cents a yard, recollect aright is some- what wider than the aa New Your, May 14, 1891. There is a new material for embroidery—a| The meetings of the New York presbytery Piney called Petzion bes. It looks as if it were | this week have been of very great importance -woven, as Surface is irregular, the | and perhaps marked an epoch history in thickness here and there. | that church. peg wok gumhgtav-e bea ‘This is 75 cents a yard and is about twenty-four 4 inches wide. Any kind of linen or sik em. |®rtist. Every one understood that the issue broidery would look well on this ground which | would be joined on Dr. Briggs’ orthodoxy, and is not a pure white. this fact brought together so large a crowd ig has just been | that the presbytery adjourned from the large made like the capacious India silk one I re- : cently described. This is of pink Japanese | !€cture room of the church where they gener- cotton crepe, in an exquisite shade, with draw | Ally meet to the main auditorium. This soon strings of @ rope-like cord madeof whiteheavy | looked more like a general assembly cotton cord «d together until quite a large | than . ft cord i made, @, Mhich is raveled into. tasseled cemtlall _ anaraene ference as ends, tied in bow knots asa finish. filled with ladies the galleries were well filled with and with many theological students who were attracted from the various seminaries to get an object lesson in theological disputation. Dr. Briggs Cecupiod a front seat, ashen pale from” the er fects of a severe attack of Ho has been nearl; by the notoriety which itterances, and BACK YARD POSSIBILITIES. ‘The Maximum of Pleasure From the Min- imum ef Expenditure. AMERICANS WOULD DO WELL To FOLLOW THE EX- AMPLE OF EUROFEANS IN MAKING THEIR REAR yaRDs recent uf in bean papery: joe ah. eed een alar was anything but a day of rest for him, as his house was —- by_the rey A recluse and student he ‘Written for The Evening Star. ee inds himself pitchforked into the midst of a A= ARE BEGINNING TO FIND out that they havea good deal ieft to learn from the effete monarchies of the old world, sensation-loving world, and is paying the penalty of fame by all sorts of absurd mis- Tepresentations by horse race and base ball re- porters, who are assigned to on sul Tetaphysical distinctions, often’ accom by cuts which would justify any presbytery in expelling the one so represented as not onl heretic, but a murderer and the original Jack the Ripper. comforts and luxuries of life. ‘The most impressive lesson taugnt by long residence in Europe is that of economy—true economy; not the going without comforts and luxuries to save money, but the rigid avoid- ance of waste and needlessexpenditure of small sums in order to be able to spend handsomely in other ways. 4n American looks on in contemptuous amazement at the frugal, and as he considers it, mean and parsimonious habits of Europeans of wealth and rank in their own houschold, and itis only after prolonged opportunities for studying the subject that he is able to adjust the seeming incongruity of such pettiness in detail with such largeness in results. But the time has come already when the Amer- fean must lay aside his lofty contempt for small things and rearrange his habits of life in accordance with new conditions. SPACE AROUND DWELLINGS. In no particular has the American cherished more extravagant ideas than in the matter of space in and around his dwelling, even in cities. But in these days when three houses are built upon » ground plot that a few years ago would have been occupied by one, or at the most two, the desire to indulge in inwns and flower gardens has been left to the millionaire class, and the householder of moderate means has swung into the opposite extreme and given upall attempts at, beautifying the snail roc- tangular space allotied to average city dwelling, and known, vulgarly, as the “back yard.” Without protest it is given over to cats, clothes lines and kitchen refuse. WHAT MEETS THE ZTE ninety-nine times out of » hundred on looking from the back windows of an American city house? A hideous extent of rough board fences and sheds, weather blackened or glow- ing with white wash,and the loathsome accum- ulations of namable and unnamable refuse that human beings are capable of producing to a seemingly unlimited extent. Seldom does the eye find one green and flowery spot to rest upon in all she vast appalling scene, yet under that sordid loathsome surface is the warm, fruitfal bosom of nature and above arches the kind and beautiful heaven, ready to respond to man’s will with all the beauty of the original Eden, from which his own sins of omission and commission have banished him. IX EUROPE. Ifany one believes such a;result is impossible let him live in almost any large or small European city and make his observations there. The writer draws her conclusions from per- sonal experiences from living in different European cities, and maintains that this trans- formation of worse than savage wastes into earthly paradises is not onl; ible but quite practical Tor apartments in russele—the 4 Goop rionTER. Behind a very genial and calm manner Dr. Briggs is a most aggressive and daring con- troversialist, and, in fact, raises against him- self gratuitous obstacles bya lack of diplo- matic tact. His whole attitude on Monday was of the most defiant kind, and this reached a clitaax when he thundeged forth: “I want to be tried for heresy and I want to be tried as soon a8 possible.” en, with a belligerent gesture, he went on to fay: “I begin to feel like the patriarch Job when he said: ‘Oh, that I had the indictment! Surely I would take it upon my shoulders and bind itasa crown to me, as a prince would I advance.’ ” To speak after the manner of men, this was “shying his castor into the ring,” and only the strict Tales of the gathering prevented the whole audience from bursting into applause. It was evident that the doctor fairly yearned for the martyr’s crown, but by no means in- tended to take it byany Quaker methods of non-resistance. THE PROBABLE OUTCOME. Just what will be the outcome of this contro- versy no one as yet presumes to say, but many feel that the differences which are being de- veloped are radical ‘and permanent, and it would not be surprising if we had another schism like that over the orthodoxy of Dr. Al- bert Barnesa generation ago leading to the “Old School” and the “New School” Presby- terians. The trouble has been brewing for years and there is a very rooted antagonism between the opposing wings. The local’ dis- turbance will, of course, find expression on a wider scale again in the Juné assembly, and if the Union Theological Seminary retires from the assembly, as now seems to be its plan in case the assembly attempts to exercise ite veto on Dr. Briggs’ appointment, it is al- most inevitable that there should be a formal split in the sect. Evidently Dr. Briggs ‘contemplates such contingency, because in his challenge for the trial he de- clared that after this had been finished in an orderly way he and his friends would then be able to tell whether they could longer remain in the Presbyterian church. HOW A WELL-KNOWN WRITER WORKS. Yesterday I met Dr. Edward Eggleston on Broadway. He has just returned from a pro- longed trip in Ireland and Paris, partly in search of rest and health and partly to study certain phases of the Irish problem. He comes back very much refreshed, looking very well and full of ideas for the future. In the course of conversation Dr. Eggleston told me one fact of literary experience which goes far to show why today he is such a popular novelis: He said that by the time one of his novels appears—when, that is, he has written and revised the text and read’ and reread the proofs—he has gone over the work regeg forty times. Here isa pe le. In the searc one city the city of ae many indeed, and gavs fe unanimous | Fr’ the slipshod writers of today, opinion of the American party that the out- iti 4 Gok thus obtained more than balanced any ad- | ‘Beir clever crudities as ra If the bright less greedy public may pepe a ch a rooms ‘upon | stare that Hach upon the literary world every fortnight or so should emulate the honest, ‘THE INVARIABLE RULE IN BRUSSELS. painstaking care of a writer like Dr. Eggleston The houses being invariably built online| they would probably not find so and with the pavement, and, except upon the | abrupt a descent back into oblivion. boulevards, shade trees being unknown, all NEW YORK'S WHOLESALE HOMES. that meets the eye from the front isa long It may be that in the fullness of time theman rspective. But from the rear windows, | who owns and runs his own private house may What verdure, what color, what beauty! in regarded as quite as Iururiant and extrava- the first placea board fence or outhouse is | °° expe rarer pars a never seen; these, like the houses, are built to | Sant » Person a8 Bo whe OO ee stay and with some view to looks as well as | Private car ora private steamship. Certainly permanence. Whether of brick or stone they | in this city the tendency is very marked toward are massive and, in their way, handsome. If|a modified and rational” type of . so- there are outhouses their utilitarien purposes| cislism in dwellings. To that extent are concealed by mossy, vine-draped walls | Bellamy is — -é the practical and roofs made picturesque by brilliant | common sence of the age. I am prompted to fiuted tiles. “Often they are’ made: to coniain | these speclations by the fact that durieg this cotes for fancy breeds of doves and pigeons, | week the announcement is made that another or perhaps an aviary filled with tropical birds. | $1,000,000 hotel is immediately to be erected on No matter how diminutive the space inclosed | the west side of the park. it is made to yield delight to the senses. fourteen stories, inst the massive are trained, inold-| be a full block front, to contain 600 world fashion, vines, or pear, peach and | rooms, an provi every modern a] ricoh trees, ceratally pruned and loaded with | improvement and elegance. This makes the blossoms and frait in their veason.. ‘The shady | fourth, and Jam not wure but. the fifth, walls are tapestried with ivy. Flower beds | §1,000:000 hotel that is now going up in this blaze with color and scent the air from early | city. Where the movement wil stop no one spring until frost. In the center there will| can tell, but there seems to be no end to the erection of these monster wholesale homes, and they seem to be successful in the ratio of their magnificence and expense. be « plot of no larger than a blanket, perhaps, but ‘as velvety and green as the lawn Princess’ chateau. Perhaps there will be in the middie of this little foun- Iver Satine—a square with the ruffled e ‘This | ing wings of the fantail or pouter pigeons. pm in bamcoseo nen: «fj will rather add to the prettiness of the room | ‘Thore is always tabie and some chairs of rus- termined fellow. than otherwise and save the table much wear | tic fashion, the midst of all this color ‘and possible scratches. CURTAINS FOR THE BOOK CASES. The book cases in the room are open shelves each side of the chimney, and here I should thang curtains of the eatine, ruffled on each He who rolls it about in his mouth takes life never finds foe purpove iho solvodge will set quite ss well sa te selve ae as as other way of the goods. Onall the chairs tidies should be put over fhe satin covers on back and arms, thas keeping itative turn of mind. Next to the last on Little Janey Pettibone An’ her ma lives all alone— and perfume and freshness the family take their coffe thei: and eee eee Sern ee ae enjoying his bit of Batare quite'as much, no | sh 4 doubt, as any prince enjoys his lordly summer A a POOR TASTE BUT WELL INTENDED. wees o' Sometimes copies, as their jetimes at the end of the little garden the pe aioe Gee = averaged at, $8.50, and dripping with moisture from sprays of £850, 00% water kept constantly running, makes a de- After paying Stanley his liciously background for the other to canvas- pleasant features of the scene. imes, cant on the retell with questionable taste but admissible moti Profit to the firm the wail at the end will be stucooed the book has been Congrate- who is supposed to lead the » who wares the do they dry the wash and put the ashes, gar- €300,000 annually. "The bage, &o.? Well, to begin with, no family of any F i le i i: ul i a ‘The new hotel is to | £F ies, is to “All sorts. T accommodate canaries, mock- birds, parrots, rabbits, guinea pigs, squir- refs, ‘logs, cate and monkeys. But there is no sort of st or bird that I am not willing to entertain at schedule rates. The accom- modations I offer are first-class, guests are given every attention, the food is Uuncxceptionable, all modern improvements “ id the: lingly high. Twenty-five cents a week I ask for a canary, and 50 cents a week for any bird, such as = m bird or parrot, price for squirrels ix cents a week and the same for kittens, but full- grown cats must pay 75 cents end small dogs $1 each. Big doge I ask more for in proportion to their size. They are more trouble to take care of than any other creatures, because they have to be taken out doors for exercise. Besides, they tat more, and that is an item. Cenarics my most numerous customers; probably I shall have 200 of them to look oat for this summer. Twenty-five cents each is not much to ask for taking care of them, because they have to be looked out for very sharply, and, inasm the warm season is their moulting time, their owners are very apt to kick when they come back in the fall and find them out of condition and not in song. Sometimes they will not recognize their own birds, and will think that inferior ones are being palmed off on them im exchange. With fish it doesn't make any differ ence.” FISH AS PARLOR BOARDERS. “Do yon board fish?” “Certainly. Lots of people have pet gold fish. They fetch them here when they go away, but they don't expect to get the same ones when they come back. I put them into the tanks with the rest of the stock and give « card in ox- change that is good for so many gold fish in the fall. ‘This I do for customers without any charge; it is very little trouble. Folks don't get fond of vidual gold fish, you see. I do pretty much the same with rabbits and guinea pigs. Small bovs bring them to me to take care of during the summer and 1 give them others as nearly like as possible in the autamn. They think they are the same ones, because auch like another, and so it is also with guinea pigs. Boys are the best customers we fanciers have.” “Indeed !” “Yes; if it wasn't for them our business would soon go to smash. Not only do they buy most of what we sell, but they supply the greater part of our stock in trade. What they don’t raise they collect. They bring in from their rural explorations turtles, frogs, tad- Pols and snakes, all of which are mleable, What do people want snakes for, you ask? ‘or Y purposes. A young man bought a” snake from me yesterday after- noon, which he said he was going to take to party that evening for a joke. Folks have different ideas of jokes, you kuow. Other snakes 1 sell to professors and doctors, who want to make experiments with them: Most of our rabbit and guinea pigs we get from boys also, who raise them. Doctors buy too, for cutting up and inocculating with ali sorts of poisons. Those animals are the chosen vietims of science. THE CHICKENS sell are bought from breeders around about Washington who keep pure stock. There are ever so many fancy breeds of fowls nowadays, but a you want to buy for usefulness get brown or white Leghorns, that lay anegg a day apiece er ben, oF speckled Plymouth=Rocks, that are ine layers and excellent for meat also. I keep in communication with the breeders, so that I can get any stock I want at « few hours’ notice, and on Sundays lam apt to go onexcursions in my buggy and make seleo- tions from farm to farm. Common pigeons I buy from the ‘boys, but choice ones, nely bred of different varieties—pouters, fantaila, tumblers and the rest—I" purchase carriers, from men who devote attention to them for the market. There is always A MARKET FOR FANCY CATs, which come mostly from Ohio, as do also the exceptional strains of rabbits, guinea pigs and ferrets. Farmers in that state make quite business of raising such forts of stock. But Angora cats come from Maine, where they are likewise bred on farms and improved, and 80, too, with the “coon-cats,” of which we never see any down in this region. The popular notion is that ‘“coon-cats are & cross between the ordi coon, but of and the dog. I don't know myself how the coon-cat is produced, but it has very long hair, a big fluffy tail and is undoubtedly of ‘tage on one side. May be the other side tortoise shell, but at all events it is the most weird dealings the ts and through their hands I get marmosets and other kinds of monkeys that are saleable for pets. They are so human-like that no one can be otherwise than interested by You ought to see the female one in is on beer not » use it fo be held cease down, bot the sight ie most entertaining. Fa]