Evening Star Newspaper, June 6, 1891, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D.C. SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1891-SIXTEEN PAGES. DEAR EUGENIA WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE EVENING STAR BY ANNA VERNON DORSEY. TEA WAS EVIDENTLY AT FULL blast. As I handed my card to the footman at the door and lingered « moment in the hall before entering the drawing room, whence arose a babel of voices, I bethought myself of two lines of Hein ‘ere I Ghengis Khan, ob, China, low im dust hsdst thou been lyin! ‘From thy cursed tea came parties, and of them I'm slowly dying.” Tobjurgated teas in geueral, and Washington teas in particular, as being opposed to the whole tenor of the masculine intellect. Conscious of my own lack of self confidence I called myself an idiot for braving the ordcal of a room full of people, half of whom would be strangers and the other half totally forgetful of my name and existence during my seven years’ absence. So- ciety had shifted and changed during that time, and I, if I lived at all in the memory of ‘any of its habitues, was romembered merely as s ies, ensign of the genus, naval officer. Sr tiidity” ending, as with most bashful men, in a state of nervous boldness, I entered the doorway and found myself in the glare and ebatter of a crowd, my first Washington crush since my retnrn. Seeing several familiar face and summoning all my once facile society man- ner I started upon the tour of the room, pausing here and there for recognition. “Why, Mrs. Lewis, how glad I am to see you again! ‘And this is your daughter? Idid ‘not hope to see any one I knew. Well, judge, you bere also? This is delightfal. And you also, Mrs. Jackson.” Wound up like @ machine, ‘was just on the potnt of adding to my hostess, ‘and dear Mrs. Thomas? This ix a surprise!" when my course was fortunately check Appearing from behinds large man, who, like a Finner whale in a shoal of porpoises, bad stopped the current toward the dining [aiy suddenly grasped me by the hand Hilliard—of all the people gp the world! The last time I saw you was at “Mare Island. You don’t look s bit as if you knew me.” “Of course Ido. It is impossible to forget Mes. Boydton Grey.” She was tall, with features like George Eliot's, her white hair was brushed back and she had, since I last saw her, accrued a set of false teeth. “Flatterer! but you always were charming. Come tovee me.” Twant to have along talk about old times. Provoking that I cant tay now, but dear Eugenia is waiting forme. I have such a lovely girl spending the winter with me, whom you must know. Where are you staying? Igave her my card. She raised her lorgnette toher keen, small eyes, gave it au approving glance and sai “That's good. Always stop in a fashionable neighborhood if you wish to be in the swim. Ab,” still holding “my hand, ‘you are such a clever fellow, so simpatica.” Come to see me uesday. Dear Lilhan,” to an expanse of white neck and a blonde head, “‘are you receiv- ing here? Where is the Secretary? You naughty girl, why didn’t you make him come?” She was swept away by the tide and I could only see the lilac bow of her bonnet beyond the shoulder of the stout man, who had begun to move. He was evidently acelebrity, for a little Woman in blue, towing him along, was callin sbrilly, “Count, ob, count, come this way, Nant io help you to some punch,” to which he pantingly and diplomatically assented. The next day among my mail, directed to the Metropolitan Club, I found the following card: Mrs. G. Borptox Guer. Muss Evorsza Vax Covnrzaxp. : Tuesday. 16 K st. Searching in the recesses of my memory fora past knowledge of the lady.I could recali noth- ing. save that she had lived in San Francisco several years before, where she had entertained royally. There had been four daughters—in- snities—who had all married naval officers sta- tioned at Mare Isiand. I had been to China since and had thus lost sight of the family. “Who is Mrs. Boydton Gres?” I asked of ‘Come wodore Sapper, who knows everybody worth figure, Knowing and who can give you the antecedents | Sgure, mich the pho parti-coloredstiing ret dim light gave the effect of mirage to her mo- tionless pose, so that the details and sharpness of contour was lost. She was seemingly lost in reverie—dreaming aimlessly of somethi lund been reading in the open book which lay of three generations of preity women. He laid down the morning's paper, which bad obscured bis round, red face and white whiskers, and turned toward me with a smile of delight at baving found a voluntary victim. “Bless my soul!” he said, ‘a most charming woman. She is a character. I've known her for years, ever since she was Louise Yan Court- land —excellent Knickerbocker family. She was handsome and clever and poor and a great belle. She married a rich pork packer out west. He died and now she bas married her daughters off and is back again this winter with a young relative, a lovely girl, they say. Clever’ Sir, that woman was the most bril- liant and eccentric girl ever knew. They told some good stories on her. She was engaged to sn attache of the French legation, a handsome fellow, but poor—Count Something—and she Was preparing to become a Roman Catholic. Wel, sir. the story goes that he presented her with @ Roman Catholic prayer book. one of those handsome things with a velvet and mother-of-pearl cover. When Grey came along she threw the Johnny Crapaud over and mare Fied him. Well, sir, a lady suw her once at St. Jobn’s Chureb with that identical prayer book, seemingly. She had bad the Catholi bony cutand Protestant insides pat | Here a messenger boy witha note fortunately | next line: diverted his train of reminiscences. The next Fuesday afternoon found meamong the stream of callers at Mrs. Boydton Grey's She was standing at the door of the drawing room as I entered, looking very stately im sume sort of purple gown. “Why.” she said, with a cordial smile is kind of you to come so soon. [tis such ar bef to see @ really familiar face. Now, 1 want you to stay along time. Oh, here are some people I must talk to- Just sit down on that Givan and wait until the crowd goes. Ab, | Colonel, bow pleased I am to see you—such a pleassut time at your wife s luncheon.” *at down on the divan behind ber, content to be screened aud a looker on. The houseand sppolutments were handsome, the crowd very swell and Mrs. Grey's manners were easy and Gracious. Feeling myself an honored guest, I settled myself like a grand mogul among the cushions, lovking at the many pretty faces be- fore me, cturing which could be Miss Vai Courtlai 2 ‘No,” Mra. Grey was saying, ‘dear is not down this afternoon. Sie is sli disposed. I want you to know ber Jost the kind of girl you like. a be witty.” T: & moment afterward— “Ab. baron, your singing was such a treat! Dear Eugenia will be so sorry to have missed it. Ske is an artiste, a soul ail music.” After the callers had all left Mrs. Grey de- twined me for a tete-a-tete or monologue. “Lam glad you stayed,” she said, sitting down by me, with a cup of hot chocolate on the table near her; “I have to goto « dinner at 7 sud you will talk to me until the carriage comes. Do youknow I have taken « great! fancy to yous You are very different from the | average young man; youcare for music snd Feading. Now, where have you been these seven year: I began at Mare Island, but before I reached Honolulu the mention of a name diverted ber thoughts to herseif. “Tracy! Why, bis brother: had married my dsughter Louise! A nice fellow he is, too: very different from the husbands of the other three girls, who married idiots, perfect ninn: Toften say that I havea thousand son-in-law one man and three ciphers. Now 1am left alone in the world. You know Fergus, my pet greyhound, died. Yes, Mr. Hultiard, I may State with truth that some evil fate overtakes every living creature on whom set my affec- “I never loved a dear zazelle.” “I never had a maid who perfectly understood arranging my bair who did not go off to marry some milkman or underteker. Lam utterly tired of life and its stupidity. f to tomorrow will succeed to the veal of today as the veal of today has succeeded to the mutton of yesterday !"” “Toa person of your originality,” I began, tentatively. There is no scope in modern life for individuality.” Mrs. Grey interrupted: “ would like to be like Lady Hester Montague or Worthy Stanhope—was it?—the English woman who joined a harem or rode camels, or some- ‘thing “anything for change and excitement.” “You pt travel." ~Bab "Steam and electricity have made the world too small. You can't get away from your own set. Wherever you go you meet the same stupid, siereotyyed people. ‘There was hom T saw everywhere—New way from ber one woman’ wi SPLEEN ey teh aa 4 iy finery I went to Bi im the darkest passage of one of the pyramids, we meta party of tourists and by the torch it saw that woman and ber diamond ear- yoa ie," Te Miss Van Courtland to brighten “ab, yoo!” Grey sighed and then ber face brightens with asmile of tender affec- tion, “you cannot imagine how that lovely creature enlivens my sojourn in this society vortex.” — Laverne peo ho) take some ogra, tofa case. PittHere,* she said, hand one to me, “hls will give you some sligh er - ne Naneon imagine what a pleasure it is to have her near me with that Grecian nose, after living years surrounded by my i daughters ‘pugs.’ They all took after their father, not one looked like the Van Courtlands. ‘Tis a wonder and a a Ep got Tyre During this disqui m I was staring picture, which wat fhe full-lengty figure of « lady in wi ress. ‘ven to my un- Ierniecied eyesit tan evident thet Tos geen was Parisian. Figure and profile were perfect, but I was disappointed. The was very stiff and it was tantalizing not to be able to see more of that faultless face. “I am going to take her to Paris-next year,” she said, “to have her portrait painted by Cabanal.’ It is the only way to do to her beauty, which is of expression. ho- togray said it was impossible to catch dear Eugenia's expression,” added Mrs. Gray, as proudly as if sittingfor @ picture was a chase ia which Miss Van Courtland waste be com- mended for her skill in eluding the photog- “Now,” said Mrs. Grey, “Iam thinking of » delightful plan. Go to'the piano and play while it matures. Play Chopin's eleventh noc- turne, dear Eugenin’s favorite.” 1 aa ei ler ypre helen thonght that the lovely origin stograph might be an. unseen auditor. : . 5 * exclaimed Mrs. Grey, when I ‘ou must know Eugenia. ‘I have a P Lent will be here soon. Your music elevates me to heaven. My dear fellow, won't you be my guest? Come here and stay with me ias long as you please. Tell me you will.” It happened that this invitation just ac- corded with my plans, and I accepted on the it. Afterafew moments of arrangements and expression of pleasure at my acceptance the footman announced Mrs. Grey's carriage, into which I helped her, wending my'way home- ward through the gaslit streets, esteeming my- self a very lucky fellow. In this opinion was indorsed ® day or two later by Commodore mie “They tell me,” he said, laughing, “that Mrs. Grey has taken a prodigious fancy to you and a you to stay with her, you young rascal. ‘t see what she sees in you myself— ® good looking barber's block, filled with music and sentiment. But’tis a good thing for ou. Miss Van Courtland is immensely rich. Now, Archie, your mother was a sweetheart of mine, and for her sake I'll give you the advice the Quaker gave his son: “My ‘son,’ he said, ‘don t thee marry for money, but, my son, be sure to go where money is.” If I had been her relative Mrs. Grey could not bave made me feel more at home. I came and went as I pleased, my hostess rising late and being so engrossed by enj ments that I sometimes only saw her at 7 oclock dinner and in the evening. Several days passed with- out a glimpse of Miss Van Courtland. “am sorry,” Mrs. Grey said, ‘that you can- not meet dear Eugenia just now. ‘ihe poor child has just sustained & fearful shock. A school friend of hers, to whom she was bound by ties of warmest affection, met a most pain- fal death. Eugenia has such a tender nature that this loss has affected her so that she can- not bear to meet strangers or to go out for some time. I am afraid that I humor her—but when I love—! She hase poet’s soul. She told me yesterday that your music soothed her and brings her calm.” My imagination was taken captive by this sensitive creature, so unlike the majority of society girls, by this elusive beauty whom, al- though we were living under the same roof, I had never seen. Aimless wanderings in the halls, excursions from my room at fancied foot- half averted face and richly sides steps, peerings over the banisters, were to no avail. I bad begun to think that there wasn't such a person when at length fate afforded me evidence to the contrary by ocular demonstra- tion. For an hour before dinner, while Mrs. Grey was resting and dressing, I’ used to go into the drawing room and there in the twilight play over selections from the masters and improvise on the grand piano. One ev2ning as sat thero the fancy struck me—it seems rather absurdly wsthetle to me now—that I wanted to place on the piano, so I could inhale their perfume, a vase full of Marechal Neils which stood ona table in the smaller back drawing room. Between the two rooms hung a portiere of bamboo. Before putting out my hand to part this U paused, seeing in the dim firelight, which she sat facing, the figure of a young woman. Here, at last, was Eugenia! The reddish glow fell on her golden hair and e id and perfect which the photograph hud stampel upon she upon her lap. As lovely as oom the vision my conscience Pricked me for playing eavesdropper. I soft Stepped back to the plano and began to play, It was no doubt to listen to my music that had come there. Mrs. Grey had told me she enjoyed it passionately. The thought stimulated me and the music “made a bond be- tween us so that [could almost feel her near- ness. After awhile there was a faint sound and rustle in the back room, and when stole softly to the portiere it wus to find that Miss Van Courtland had vanished. Tentered and sat down in thé large velvet chair in which she had been seated. Around was a faint perfume of violet, one of those delicate odors which belong to beautiful women | and to flowers. The book she bad been reading, an edition de luxe of Browning's poems, lay upon the table opened at the “Tocatta of Galuppe's,” with these lines marked in lead pencil: “-What th © S Diminished, sich on such told then scusttiiea? Those suspensions, those suiutions, wust we die?” In answer 1 took my pencil and’ marked th “Life might last—we can but try.” Leaving the book open, that she might see my answer. The next day she was in the same place— pensive. motionless. Evening after evening | passed in this way. The very mystery and intangibleness of the affair gave me a pleasure which I could not analyze, never having been in love before. The dusky hours in which I poured forth my whole soul through my finger lips to the strange, lovely, unseen creature. who for some unknown reason would not emerge from her retirement, became to me the oue thing that the day held or life even. Then, too, she was conscious of my presence. She communicated with me through the pencil marks in her Browning. Never was there more delteate, more poetical communication. I knew her innermost thoughts and feelings. _ The progress of my love was marked by few incidents. Every evening, after | thought she was gone, Istole in and found her book, in which, as my feeling grew stronger, my quota- tions marked an urgency of appeal that she would cease the mystery and come into the common light of day, while she evaded the question and hinted at some sorrow or injustice in her life. And all this time I had not spoken tober énce or caught but fleeting and stolen glimpses through the portiere of her, always exquisitely attired in some new costume. rs. Grey was full of apologies for E ‘i absence. : Biss “The truth is,” she said, “that dear Eugenia bas the love of solitude und something of the morbid eccentricity of genius. She is—this is entre nous, in the strictest confidence—en- gaged upon a poem which will, Ihave no heel tation in saying, be the literary sensation of gth I received a rude shock. One evening 1 stood at the portiere feasting my s¥es upon that half-averted face, for she nearly always sat in the same position, facing the fire, with her back partially turned to me. Tho air was full of the perfume of roses and voilet sachet. Long velvet curtains shut out the gray winter twilight and the flickering light from the logs caught the gleam of mirrors and china and bronze ornaments, falling on the half-reclining figure of Miss Van Courtland, clad in a house robe of [ellow India silk, om the ripples of ‘her golden ‘and the peachy cheek. I could distinctly the even drawn breath. Impulse prompted me to enter and cast myself at her feet, but I paused suddenly. | From somewhere out of the ‘an old negro woman, whom I had often noticed about the honse, advanced to Eugenia’s side. Stooping she ‘lifted the Passive and lovely form in her strong arms and with the bright bead resting on her shoulder bore ‘her from the room, leavitg me in state of ‘mind borde upon frenzy. lame or insane or a hopeless 8 the thought. M; the to cherish suy suck idea, and. because no feasible solution of the riddle occurred to me, in an wnreasoning man- ner the impression became strong that in some way Mrs. Grey was at the root of the matter— that she was responsible for Eugenia’s infirmity. Had not the dear girl alluded tosome deep blight? Yes, Mrs. Grey was her enemy. She ad ast 0 spell upon ber lovely guest. From that mo- tient, seen in the light of my new-born preju- dice, my hostess a me a8 x sorceress, tudied her every speech, every expression of her peculiar sud strongly marked face. Aw. suredly there was something malign and erratic about her almost to the point of madness. What struck me most was the strength and fick- lesmess of her fancies when she spoke of dif- feront favorites she had had and # certain cyn- icism and contempt of society. “It is dread{al to set your affectious on any living thing,” she said, with tears in her “Now, there was, a musical prodigy, whom I had educated for a vic ‘ist. He mig! have been @ Paganini, but he wont mad and married a Dutch doil in a baker's shop. They are starving in a t in Frisco now. He ap- plied to me for aid and I sent him a fine coffin. n there was a dear little Maltese cat, dear Haidlee, whom I soloved and picked eut of the gutter with a broken back. The darling grew gud got well and one fine day left me. “Pasa it and stuffed. I couldn't bear to part with it, T loved it 80.” ea Why, the woman was dreadful with her sav- tality! I shuddered every time she ed Eugenia. No doubt the poor dear had unwittingly offended her, leaving or said something to excite her jeal- ousy and had been, in consequence, tempora- rily paralyzed or Inid under the influence of some drug. Maybe it was on my account. She must, at any cost, be freed from the guar- ianship of this witch and her attendant black ‘his old woman, an immense negress, was utterly devoted to’ Mrs. Grey. Once or twice I approached her, slipped money into her im and inquired significantly of Mise Van ourtland, but she always looked into my face with an idiotic leer and slipped away, chuck- ling to herself. ‘his handsome house, which had seemed so desirable a visiting place, became a hobgoblin hall. Mrs. Grey was the evil genius, Eugenia the beautiful captive, whose imprisonment I, the knight errant, wasto break. I wrote a note and left it in her book, entreating her to leave with me and be married, to explain if ne Grey was cruelto her and to give me 2) e next day I found between the pages of her book a tiny perfumed blue note. “Tentreat you to wait and the mystery will be explained. Mrs. Grey is my kindest friend: she does all for me. Wait, if you love me, for believe me, I do love you. Evorw.” ‘This was emphatic. With the assurance of these words I felt that I could wait a hundred years. Butas the days pasted my impatience to see her and speak to her grew — It was not manly to be constantly breathing this atmosphere of chicanery and intrigue. Doubt- ly she was under the malign influence when sbe had denied Mrs.Grey’s duplicity. Visions of what I had read of hynotism passed before me and frightened me for the happiness of my un- known sweetheart. At last bay pred conquered. One evening Mrs. Gray had departed to be gone until after midnight at a dinner. The knowledge embol- dened me. While Eugenia sat in her velvet chair I lingered at the portal of my fool's para- dise, fingering the cool strings of the portiere. When I pushed them aside she seemed not hear, and did not turn at the sound of shivery clatter. Throwing myself on my knees at her feet, my head bowed, I cried out: “Forgive me. dear, I must speak. Say word tome. Look at me.” No answer came. Fearing her indignation I looked up. ‘Those lustrous full blue eyes looked straight ahead fixedly. A mortal terror seized me. Passing my hand up the soft folds of her gown I touched the pink cheek. No breath or palpitation of life stirred that charm- ing form. “My finger tips touched @ smooth, oleaginous surface. A sensation of horror an rage stole over meas I realized the truth. Dear Eugenia was only a large and beautiful wax doll, fiendishly and artistically made, with the perfect features that one sees in hairdressers’ windows. Icast myself on the floor, cursing my blind folly. The old negress emerged from one cor- ner of the room, picked up the hideous thing that seemed a corpse of the ideal I had built w and left the room with it, with a cackling laug which echoed up the halls. Then I packed up my belongings and left the house, giving the butier the following note to be presented to Mrs, Grey upon her return: “Mapam: Ihave just learned of the shamefal frand you have been perpetrating upon a guile- less and too confiding society. ‘The memory of past kindness and the unwillingness to infringe Upon the sanctity of hospitality prevent at resent a public expose, which, however, will inevitable unless you immediately consign that monstrous puppet to the darkest closet of your house. Yours, “Ancme Hinuiarp.” A few days later I saw in the inimitable English of society aotes this notice in an eve: ing paper: “The many friends of Miss Van Courtland will be grieved to hear that she has returned to her home in New York owing to family afilic- tion. Miss Van Courtlunc, who is endowed with all the gifts of fortune’ and a pretty head full of brainy ideas, has, though her circle has been exclusively small, done much havoc among the jeunesse doree of this city.where she has been the recipient of social courtesies of an extended nature. Mrs. Grey's charming home Will be closed,as she will soon start on an extended tour through Kussia.” Well, I got over it in time, but it was a hard pall Commodore Sapper, who jeered me upon ving been rejected by the heiress, seeing that I was out of spirits, kindly used his influence to procure for me sea duty on the Pacific squadron. At Mare Island I met Ned Tracy, the only one of Mrs. Grey's sons-in-law whom she re- cognized. He had a perfect horror of the old poi iy, and, touched by our sympathy on this t, I told him the whole story. jood Lord,” he said. “You don't mean to say she carried the fraud that far? She used to have the thing here and get mi we didn't bow to it when we came in the parlor, but I had no idea of anything like this. She really is a dangerous maniac, in thnt sense.” phists and quarreled with them and had been arrested asa nihilist spy, but the last thing is that she is an abbess in a convent of the Greek church in Moscow. ‘They won't let ber out from there, I hope.” Jam married now and prosaically happy, with a wife and children, but sometimes o breath of spring moonlight or a chord of Chopin brings back the old romance gnd I ean- not but sigh to think of my first love. my dear Eugenia, probaldy hidden in some dark closet, her lovely face covered with cobwebs and scampered oyer by spiders and mice. From Judge. ‘Missionary—“Now, how can I get these people to attend church?” oe Mountain Mike (new convert)—‘Dere’s ‘er ‘ood many ways, Mister Parson, but I think a Nog fight’ belore service would fetch "em quicker'n anyt’ing else. For Once Xantippe Was Amiable, From the Detroit Free Press. It is related that Socrates, returning home one evening from Aspasia’s salon, found Xun- tippe still sitting up, waiting for him. “Socrates,” said she, ina tone that drove terror to his soul—Socrates, did you mail my letter?” “Yes, my dear,” Socrates made answer; dropped it in the box as I was going down town this morning.” But Xantippe, who had had experience with men in general and Socrates in particular for many olympiads, put her hand into his over- coat pocket and drew forth the letter, which he, being 8 man, had, of course, forgotten to mail. Socrates ‘was ihereat sore afraid, and his knees besmote one the ther a1 be stood be: fore her bli gaze. \y ong) him of eoteonels ‘of the mess into which he had fallen. “Er—um—my dear,” quoth he, “that is not your letter; that isthe one I wrote to—er—um —I mean that iy not the one you wrote this morning; that is the one you are going to write tomorrow morning; I am—" ir. Socrates,” said Xantippe, “you have been drinking again; you know the let- ‘ter_I wrote this morning.” ~ Socrates. pl that he was, saw that the only way out of this trouble was to make a clean breast of it and take his medicine like a little man. darling.” said he, in true philo- sophic’ humility, “that is the letter you gave ning: 1 forgot to mail i.” = ant ‘a surprisingly good- whic Socrates was not wont to a dg bene gh bmg mmo pf surprise which ever endures SUMMER CLOTHES. The Problem That Bothers the Fash- ionable Young Man, WHAT SHALL HE WEAR? Flannel Shirts and Sulte—When and How They Should Be Worn—Luxury of Un- blacked Shoes—Advantages of Staying in Washington During the Heated Season. WRITER FOR “THE STAR” RAN across one of the most howling of dudes the other day and found him in agreat state of perturbation, the occasion for which was that he is now laying in his stock of summer clothes. As the greatest events that ever occur in this young man’s life is the acquisition of new arti- cles of raiment, it was interesting to hear him hold forth on the subject. “There is,” he said, “‘s great deal of pleasure to be got out of clothes, if you only knew it.” Unquestionably thereis,if you can bring your- self down to it, but most of us have other thingsthat ere uppermost in ourminds. We pass through what may be termed the clothes age, which runs from about seventeen to twenty- three, and then we cease to think of them. But how many are there that didn’t pass through that stage, when clothes were the chief subject of thought, when money was looked upon merely as something convertible into trousers and conte and hats and shoes, when dressing wasa real pleasure and not a bother, when mankind were looked upon merely as lay figures upon which the arts of the tailor might be displayed. Let the clothes age stop at twenty-five at the utmost. When you see a 10 makes his apparel the chief object of his existence after that depend upon it that be will never be anything all his life but edu 4 PATRIOTIO SUGGESTION. “Can you oxplain to me,” said adude to a man who isn’t # dude, “why it is that hatters always put black ribbons about straw hats in- stead of using red or blue ribbon?” “For the same reason,” replicd the other, “that tailors don't make trousers out of Ameri- can flags.” He couldn't see the connection and perhaps it was far-fetched, since some people do wear straw hats with redand blue ribbons about them, whereas no man ever walked the streets with a pair of trousers made out of an Ameri- flag. But why shouldn't he? What com- tion of colors can be more beautiful? What ides could be more patriotic? ‘The blue field and the white stars might be ekilifully arranged tocome where they would be most icturesque. ‘There is only one reasonable ob- jection tohaving American flags made into trousers and that is the di ble fact that it would be an indignity to the flag to sit on it, but this objection would be more than coun- terbalanced by the patriotic effect that the clothes lines would produce if the garments should be made of a washable material. THE QUESTION OF FLANNELS. But all this is by the way. Seriously, the matter of an outfit for the summer isa very im- portant one to many men, and now is the time when they are making their purchases. There is the one item of tlannels, white or striped. It is only a few years since these were worn only on the tennis court. Then men at the summer resorts who played tennis a very little and loafed a great deal took to wearing them all the time, and gradually they became a uniform at the seashore, the springs and the mountains. Then they worked their way into the city. ‘The usual march of fashion is from the city into the country, but in this case the fashion has come from the country into the city. Well. there is not much dignity in them; that must be ad- mitted, but they are comfortable and with some men they are becoming. But of all recent fusions this one is probably the most expen- sive, for these flannels must de clean, and when they are washed they shrink from a few inches to half a foot at # time, according to the washer. If you don’t want them to shrink you must send them to a cleaner and pay a dollsr or so each time. THEY WILL SHRIXK. It is this dread propensity of flannels to shrink that causes people to buy them too large, and the large sackareed ty at the bot- tom will soon be acon all over the streets. A Little fellow wears a big fellow’s trousers and s big fellow wears garments that might fit the jant ina circus. This has become a fad end, jowever awkward it may be, it must be con: fessed that it is far better than tbat other fad that was introduced summer before last of wearing white flannels that were dirty. This was done, and the dirtier the garments the better, but the cleanly style has come in vogue now. You can wear these things in Washington after the summer has fairly set in, for Wash- ington is not particular in these matters, and, indeed, one of the greatest charms of the city is its freedom at all seasons, and especially during the summer. If you go to New York you wil find that many of the best dressed men never wear straw hats. Down town where it is cer- tainly as bot, if not hotter, than it ever is here, you will see iawyers, bankers and business men rushing around in the broiling sun with heavy black hats on. ‘They wear standing collars,too, and their whole costume suggests insufferable heat. Now, Washington isa much pleasanter place in summer than New York. Here there is space, shade and plenty of air, but in New York there are, practically speaking, no shade trees and any breezes thatmay happen to come over the bay are caught and interrupted by the broiling surfaces of thousands of towering brick buildings. ‘THE FLANNEL SHIET. Moreover, another advantage here is the one already alluded to, that the men can wear any clothes they choose, provided they are thin. ‘The Washingtonian who is well dressed in sum- mer is the one that looks comfortable. But how about the flannel shirt? This subject must be approached cautiously, for it is im- portant and the feelings of good citizens must not be hurt. One remark may be hazurded, however. If you have a long, lean neck and & dark, sallow complexion, in the name of heaven don't weare: dark-colored flannel shirt. If you are a married man your wife will find it difficult to continue to love you and if you are a bachelor or a widower and wish to getawife your chances will be ruined. A man’s neck is not beautiful under any circum- stances, but « long, thin, scraggy neck must be hidden, even at the expense of some bodily comfort. But if you are a handsome. rosy cheeked fellow, with a nice, smooth neck you may venture on a flannel shirt during business hours, but never, under any circumstances whatsoever, should # man appear in the even- ing among the gentler sex in this costume. ‘This would seem to be superfluous advice, but it isn’t. On the strength of the greatinformality and freedom allowed during the summer some men do.venture to wear after indown & cos- tume that is only tolerable during the heat of the day. ‘These remarks are not intended asa general condemnation of the’shirt that hasn't been “biled.” It ix often very pretty and becoming, but it must be worn with diserimi- nation. After all there are some people who object to them, whereas nobody can object toa white linen shirt and collar—except possibly the person who has it on. ‘THE UNBLACKED SHOES. Another distinctive feature of the summer costume is the shoes. Dudes were the ones after all to whom we are indebted for the de- lightful unblacked summer shoes. They wore them for a year or two and other people wi in consequence, afraid of them, but a few boli spirits saw how’ sensible they’ were and now even the most comerrative wear, them, | They are easy to the feet, they are good looking an to poor fellows who have to blacken their own shoes in the morning they are a solid comfort. Itis true they interfere materially with the business of the bootblacks. ‘This is unfortunate, but the world was not made for Dbootblacks, and they can seek some other avenue of useful em- ployment. Why, then, in view of the simplicity of men's clothes in summer should the dude feel dis- turbed in mind? He has only » narrow field for expenditure and a te taste and = moderate outlay should be sufficient to insure his appearing creditably before the world if he is content to remain in Washington. —-— Effects of a Kain Storm. ‘From the Warren (0.) Chronicle. The recent rains have changed the facial ex- pression of the agricultwrist from the longi- ‘tudinal to the horizontal, thus: BEFORE THE RAIX. ee ~ <STER TOE Bar, THE GREAT AUGUST REGATTA. Champions of the National Association to ‘Meet on the Potomac. PREPARATIONS IN PROGRESS FOR A GREAT GATH- ERING OF OARSMEN—THE ARRANGEMENTS IN (CHARGE OF A LOCAL COMMITTEE—MANY ENTRIES EXPECTED—THE PROBABLE COURSE. FTES YEARS AGO THE NATIONAL ASSO- ciation of Amateur Oarsmen held ite anny regatta on the waters of the Potomac river and. since then there has been nothing done by the people of this city in the way of the encouragement of the aquatic sport under national auspices. The time, however, has come again for Washington to act as host, and Fropeeations are now being actively made for ding of the nineteenth annual regatta of the National Association on here the 18th and 19th of Ang This association is the only national body of amateur oarsmen in the country. and therefore it represents the best classes and the best in- terests of the sport. It hasa membership of over sixty clubs and other associations scat- tered throughout the country and comprises only amateurs to the extent of debarring from ‘ite rai all oarsmen whose work has even slightest tinge of professionalism. Like many other athletic organizations it came into exist- ence largely through the necessities that ex- isted upward of twenty years ago for a more wholesome atmosphere in the rowing world, when there was such a decided set toward pro- fessionalism that the sport seemed doomed to fall into the hands of the men who were leav- ing their legitimate occupations and taking up rowing asa business. It was organized in 1872 ond its first regatta was held the following summer. Under the provisions of the constitution of the association the regattas are held in such ‘as will guarantee to provide the necessary facilities and defray the expenses attendant eros such an event. There is always some- thing like a strife for the honor of playing host to the hundreds of oarsmen who gather at the national itta from all over the country, and it is very fortunate that Washington has se- cured it, for it is thought that e event on the Potomac will tend to encourage the sport here and to bring out a great many more oars- men than now frequent the river. THE LOCAL COMMITTEE. The affairs of the regatta, from local point of view, are in the hands of a committee of nine members of the three boating associations on the Potomac, as follows: Analostan—Samuel Maddox, R. E. Pairo, W. A. McKenny; Poto- mac—Wim. Oftley, Oscar P. Schmidt and Claude R, Zappone; Columbia—Alex. Grant, Samuel W. Stinemetz and W. Howard Gibson. Mr. Grant is chairman of this joint committee, Mr. Pairo, treasurer, and Mr. Schmidt, secretary. A number of meetings have already been held for the purpose of determining the means that are to be adopted to raise the fund that will be required to float the enterprise and to make a successful regatta and the committee is now hard at work pushing ita scheme which is to swell the fund that must be guaranteed. Cir- culars are to be issued to the business men and other citizens of the city urging upon them the necessity of making a good showing for Washington in this matter and asking for sub- scriptions to the fund. It is estimated that the expenses will range from 1,500 to $2,500 and & part of this must be raised in this way. The three clubs stand good for the sum in propor- tion to their membership, the Columbias un- dertaking the greatest share. In other cities this matter of providing for the expenses of a regatta is not nearly so difti- culta problem as it has always proved to be here. “In Boston, for instance, at the approach of such events the city council appropriates a certain sum for the entertainment of visiting | oarsmen, as well as for thy natural expenses of the regatta, and there is no demand made upon the local clubs. At Philadelphia, during the local regattas there during the past three years, 8o liberal a fund was raised by popular sub- scription that each visiting oarsman was enter- tained at the best hotel in the city for three days. The same spirit prevails all through the north and east, and in most of the cities the merchants and corporations are but too anxious that the regatta snall be held there, as they re- alze the benefits conferred by the ‘event upon the trade of the place. Already the street-car lines of Washington are beginning to feel the effects of the increased traffic toward the river each pleasant evening as oarsmen and their friends go over to indulge in or to witness the practice work of the crews. In such an event it is not possible to defray the expenses, as it is in the case of athletic fames such as were held on Analostan Island t fall, for by the nature of things there can be no charge fur admittance, and thus there is Ro way in which the races themselves can be turned to a financial account. It has been br decided by the committee not to ut mpt the erection of a stand this year, as all former efforts in this line have proved failures THR COURSE. One of the most important matters that is now before the committee is the selection of a course for the regatta. There are several reaches on the river that are available and suitable for the races, but all have some objec- tion but one that is now being urged, and which will probably be adopted finally as the water in which the events of next August will be rowed. This course extends north from the Long bride> toa point a short distance south of Littlefield’ s wharf, following the wall of the flats reserva- tion, with the finish some little distance above the mouth of the sewer canal. Under the rules of the National Association all races are of a mile and a half, and thus the course will be that length. This course presents few, if any, ob- jections, and will most likely be accepted before long. ‘There is but little current in this part of the river, as the main channel is some distance ost, while the river is practically straight for the entire mile and a half. There iss little curve toward the east in the wall of the flats, but by drawing the course line straight from the bridge this willnot interfere. The starting boats will be placed about a hundred feet north of the Long bridge, where the water is practi- cally still and so shallow that there will be no difficulty at all in anchoring the boats in us firm a manner as desirable. ‘This is one of the objections to the “up river” course, the eur- rent and the depth being so great at the point from whichethe start must be mude—opposite the Three Sisters—that starting boats almost always drift from their places. In ease the course described should be adopted there will be ample facilities for the public on the days of the races, for the flats will afford accommodation for thousands along the river front without the least interference. ‘There are few or no wharves in this part of the river, but their absence will not be felt in view of the long unbroken stretch of shore on which half of Washington could be assembled without any danger of fulling off. EACH DAY'S PROGRAM. ‘The races will begin at 2 o'clock on each of the two days of the regatta, Tuesday and Wed- nesday, and will continue until the program of the day has been conciuded. There will be ight events, as follows: Senior singles, junior singles, double sculls, pair oar shells, four oar senior; eight oar le quarter mile dash for senior ‘The races will be rowed i ever there are more than five entries in each event, and thus the program will be sure to occupy the afternoons of the two days. A race will be started each hulf hour after 2 o'clock, and, by means of the maguiticent sy tem that has been perfected by the Nat Association, there will be few, if any. dela: ‘The regattas of the National Assuciation been held in all of the east, as follows: 1873, at Philadelphia; 1974, at Troy; 1875, at ‘Troy; 1876, at Philadelphia: 1877, at Detroit; 1878, at Newark, N. J.; 1879, at Saratoga; 1880, at Saratoga; 1881, at Washington; 1 i Detroit; 1883, at Newark; 1864, at Watkins, N. ¥.; 1885, at Boston; 1886, at Albany; 1887. ai Jamestown, N. Y.; 1888, at Sunbury, Pa.; 1889, at Pullman, Lil; 1890, at Worcester, Mass, ‘THE ENTUIES. ‘The entries for the regatta close two weeks before the first day of the races, and are open now. Owing, however, to the indisposition of the average oarsman to snow his hand until the last minute, thero have been no entries made yet,and’ there will probably be none until the ear! rt of August. It iv thought by Secretary W. Howard Gibson, who has held that office in the. association ‘since 1883, that {ace wil a nt loaet Seine 25 seeny ries foe, Washington regatta as there were last year at Worcester. The attractions of the city will be the main inducement for oarsmen to enter then lying on his death bed. Athletics all over the country received a from took se’ years to recover, FORAGING FOR THE SICK ROOM. How « Lady in Georgetown Was Supplied With Seasonable Luxuries. IHERE IS A LADY OVER IN GEORGE- town who possesses a perfect treasure of a servant—s colossal colored woman of an age unguessed at, who performs miracles of strength without thinking anything of them, carrying her invalid mistress, no light weight, upstairs and down stairs, as if the latter were a child, and otherwise playing the part of an in- dispensable domestic Samson in petticoat, The faithfulness of this mighty female is not Jess than her muscular prowess, and from morn to night her mind is bent, while her body works, upon schemes to make ber mistress Next door to the house in Georgetown lives ® pleasant-faced woman who is addicted to chickens. Any one whohas ever kept chickens knows what such an addition becomes. This woman loves her fowlsand her fowls love her— at feeding time at all events. Last summer she complained to her invalid neighbor that her spring pullets, raised early that year from eggs prized as if they were so many jewels of equal size, had been steadily disappesring. If rats were responsible it seemed extraordinary that they should have waited until the young birds had attained a respectable broiling dimen- sion before devouring them. But alas! the lovely pets—so fascinating in their downy, new hatched plumpness and reared with such the perilous stages of weak ‘went somehow. last two bad gone their owner found her only consolation in the sympathy of the sick lady | next door, who said that she could appreciate the loss so well inasmuch as she enjo: ing to eat nearly so much as ten chickens, having had one every day for for some time The wound had well nigh healed over by the time that August came and » beloved and long- in the plessant-faced fo develop its | it that eud should be the yard of the slaughter knees and “p | accomplished the driver of the pig objects | determined and the boy is smailand of weak tended peach woman's back yard had first real crop of fruit. How anziousl Watched each little green knob develop and with what delighted eagerness she saw the verdant hue of immaturity softened toa yellow and rounded pinkness. One dozen of them there were altogether—only twelve in all, but such - She sat up late at night fora week to watch them for fear lest their beauty should prove too great a seduction for Dow-legged children in the neighborhood whom she suspected of a But one morning when she urose and looked out of the rear window with joyous anticipation she beheld the little tree uo longer loaded, but bare asif ithad never borne a blossom. She could not realize the calamity at first—that all her peaches, twelve of them, were gone-—but closer inspection be- trayed the fact that there was not one left; all ‘The blow was too severe. wept and invoked destruction w of ‘the heartless and presumably bow-le; robbers. But there was no evidence, an she went in to her invalid next-door and the two mingled sym) About a week later the supplied by her colossal colored attendant with two beautiful peaches for her dessert. “You must | not charge such costly fruit as this upon the , 1 can't afford it,” she murmured, as she munched one of them. “Nebber’ you mind, missy,” replied the at- tendant, grinning from ear ‘to ear as usual. ‘They won't cost you anything extry.” ‘The next duy there were two more peaches for dessert equally exquisite, “I'm sure we can't afford them,” the lady beauties in pro certain small and ver} predatory inclination. had vanished. invalid neighbor was market Dill, Melisi in response Melissa merely opened her mouth ‘put her arms akimbo, and laughed, ‘On ‘the third day there were two more peaches and the mistress said: “Really, Melissa, you must not buy any more of these, "I am sure they are too expe But Melissa deigned no reply other than to double up her herculean frame over the back of a chair and shout with laughter. possible to be offended at suc and her mistress only smiled. ‘The next day; she had peaches, and the next and the next. On Sunday there were none, and the attendant explained the circumstance by sa; “season was over.” once more over the chair back and ind an exhibition of intense amusement that but elicit a reprimand. “But the peach season isn't over,” protested the mistress. “1 heard » man calling them in the street yesterday “It's over wid us, innocent mirth Then she doubled herself \d Melissa, cram- chief into her “and why 80?” “Because, missy,” lied the faithful crea- ture, pulling the han ikerchief shyly inch by inch outof her capacious maw, ‘you've ate’em a “Yes, missy; you've ate up all them twelve tree next door, and all the little chickens, too. It’e glad I am they pecuilly the ite chickens, aches that grew on did you good that was might the spring ob the year. ens and peaches, and a blessin’ it is, to be sho’, that yo’ neighbors should be some good to yor a po’ sick woman. Ise hopin’ that the chicks a lady around the corner is raisi ‘nfat. ‘Trus’ me fer gadderin’'’em im when they're ripe.” “Melissa, you are a wretched criminal!” ‘es, missy,” admitted the accused, grin- ning. “nat on earth am I going to do? “Wait until the chicks are bigger, missy; they're too little now for to broil. Further reproaches failed entirely to arouse the conscience of the colossal domestic. could not be convinced even that they were uttered in seriousness by the person who had néful, having herself en- joyed the fruits of the enterprise. As for the mistress, she has been in a quandary on the ver wince, being afraid to make con- t restitution lest her servant ett. Thus far she has done nothing more than forbid any further foraging —a restriction that exci found and undisguised astonishment. een An Eleven-Year-Old Incendiary. Walter C. Heuze, eleven years of age, was ar- rested yesterday at Boston, chargedwith attempt- ing to set fire to the Emerson School, of which he was a pupil. He obtained permission to go out, and soon after astrong smell of smoke in the basement attracted the attention of the master found that the boy had piled a lot of shavings behind the door of one of the closets and set them on fire. The fire was discovered barely in time to prevent ‘the burning of the building, in which there were several hundred children, in You ate ‘em all, chick- every reason to be tha fession or attem| be arrested for t! felissa’s most pro- of the school. The International Shoemakers. ‘The International Shoemakers at Boston yes- terday passed resolutions indorsing the label ional Clothing Operatives’ Union; in- dorsing the eight-hour movement and leaving the selection of a time when it shall be put in force in the hands of the executive board; con- demning the present system of contracts of the National Base Bali League and fa elections in all states. Charles Irish, ton, Qnt. was selected general president. Adjourned to meet in Chicugo June 1, 1892. —— ee Union of Reformed Churehes. The general synod of the Reformed church (Dutch) in America, in session at Asbury Park, N. J., unanimously adopted the report of the joint commission on the proposed union with the Reformed church (German) in the United States. The latter body met at Philadelphia in special session to consider the proposed tinion. The report of the joint commission on the pro- posed union was presented b; G. Apple. The terms of formation of u federal s; by an equal number of od of each churel ! elders, be appointed by the assembly to com y the Rev. Thomas AN ESPECIAL BOG. He Wouldn't Be Driven, but Had to Be Away in State. “Pigs are awkward things to drive,” and Tax Stam reporter was very forcibly reminded of the fact a few days ago while out driving in the country near Washington. He found a pig that simply refused to be driven. The obsti- nate porker was the property of an aged col- ored man who lives in the county and having been recently purchased bya neighbor the difficulty‘had arisen in the transfer of the prop- entrusted to one of the boys on tho place, as it | relished by a man. , Having secured ‘your hog in this way you hill, at @ pace that is really quite extraordi considering his corpulence. Then he stops and looks about him, and the switch isin | Fequisition again. He next goes off on a gen- te trot and makes for the hedge and gets him- | self and his driver all in « tangle. After the | sari bas been, unwound the “pig begins 0 | meander along in the direction from which he | came. As this mode of procedure will not | achieve the aims and objects sought to be and 4 struggle ensues. If the pig is large and nerves the former conquers and returns home ae though he had never been away, and is caught and put intoa wagon and transported in state which is probably what he has been | after‘all the time. But if the pig has a real mas- | ter in the boy whoisat the otherend of the rope | he is ruthlessly yanked around and compeiled | to continue bis journey to the bitter end, even | | house itself. But the particular pig which lives in the county near Washington and which was al- juded to above is no ordinary pi He knows |® thing or two and he won't consent to be | driven by any boy. When the reporter en- countered him he was lying in the middle of the road flat upon his stomach, surrounded by the whole family, with whom he bad from bis infancy enjoyed an intimate personal acquaint- ce. “The woman of the house Lada broom- stick in her hand, the boys had switches, the girls assisting with their shrill, high voices. “Hi! there, git up now, git up and go long,” cried one. ‘Wootsa, wootsa, wootaa !” hallowed another. ‘T'se move him. Out de way dar! Hoi Hist yo'set!" This came from the largest boy, who placed his shoulders to the wheel, as it wWere—that is, he caught the porker by his two fat hams and shoved him for a distance of | about three inches. Still the pig lay flat on bis stomach and re- fused to go. A gentleman in a buggy drove | up and stopped. He thought be knew all about | hog driving and volunteered advice. | cc That ain't the way to drive a pig,” he said. | “Just tie a rope about his lert hind’ leg. He'll | go quick enough then.” 1 ‘Done gone tried dat, boss. “Tain't no use. Dis ain't no ordinary hog. Dis hog am some- thing especial, sab !” ‘This remark came from one of the boys, who bad evidently been to school and was proud of his ability to use long words. ‘Liza Jane, vou go git some co'n fur dis | hog!” ‘This order came from the woman who had been wielding the broomstick and was Promptly obeyed. f ‘The corn wus produced and beld about a foot | in front of the “especial bog.” He looked at | itand blinked his eyes, but he seemed to un- derstand that they were fooling him and was | proof against an offer that was aftcr all a piece | of mere stratagem and a delusion and a snare. | He refused to be tempted. The woman who was the commanding of the attacking party seemed at a loss to know what to do and stood angrily menacing tbe poor beleaguered garrison with her broomstick. Shesoon reached # determination, however, and assued her orders. “You, Benjamin Franklin, you go and get dat arrow! You hear me? You get dat barrow and we'll wheel dis here pig. Ain't gwine to keep him. Gwine to wi him away.” Benjamin Franklin, so called probably be- cause of his philosophical cast of countenance, | departed on his errand and soon appeared wheeling the wheelbarrow, and then with the tnited exertions of the whole family and the bys ‘the hog was lifted into his carriage and wheeled triumphantly away. He was cer- tainly a very fine animal, and it to make excellent sausages for breakfast, fine spareribs {or dinner, good hams for sandwiches and rich hog’s head —_—_. DE. BEIGGS’ TRANSFER, ‘The Union Seminary Disputes the General Assembly's Right to Veto It. The directors of the Union Theological Semi- nary of New York have met and have declared their position on the question of the right of the general assembly of the Presbyterian church to veto the transfer of Prof. Charles A. Briggs from the chair of Hebrew to the chair of biblical theology. ‘The resolution passed at their meeting held yesterday afternoon is as follows: “Resolved, That the board of directors, after having taken legal advice and after due con- sideration, see no reason to change their views on the subject of the transfer of Dr. Briggs, and feel bound, in the discharge of their duties under the charter and constitution of the semi- nary, to adhere to the same.” The intent of the veto passed by the general assembly at its recent sessions in Detroit was that Dr. Briggs should cease to be a professor in Union Seminary. The effect of the resolu- tion adopted is that it is the judgment of the directors that the veto was @ usurpation never granted nor intended to be given to the general assembly, and that, since the veto was illegal, the appointment stands and Dr. will continue as a professor during the coming year as during the past seventeen years. The meeting of the board of directors was very full, only three members being absent out of a full board of twenty-six. The vote by Which the resolution was adopted was practi cally unanimous, one vote only being cast in opposition. the directors have thus only defined their Position in the matter of the veto and the Fight of the general assembly to exercise it in the case of a transfer from one professorship to another. The broader question is left in abevance—whether the general assembly has ny Tight to veto origt nts in Union Beminary, aod Whether the board of directors who proposed to confer the right on the assembly had any legal to divest themselves of their duties responsibilities in the appointment of new professors. Both of these matters will have to come up when the assembly's conference committee shall ri “This appointed under the This committee was following resolution: ‘That a committee, con- ting of eight ministers and seven fer with the directors of Union Seminary in re- gard to the relations of the said seminary to the general assembly, and to report to the next general assembly.” be made bet: it must pert ae P paki ‘The jury bad not How It Sarvives, Though Inferior Physctaliy to Other Animals AN CALLS HIMSELF THE LORD OF Is be not more pro) be regarded as an acciler a scientist toa Stan writer. why be sbould survive at all have become extinct asa race, animals have which have o Also imagine that some other tribe gent and philosophical erty. First of all the usual method of driving | Conceive that they would dig for Pigs was adopted. This consists simply in | that among them they would fn’ + tying a rope around the animal's hind leg just | the genus homo. What would be their above the foot.. The duty of driver is usually | Why, they wouldsay, ‘Of course such » as this could not long preserv 5 takes too much time and too much agility to be | must necessarily have been quickly © in the struggle for survival in the shape of teeth for offer neither had it cl nseless beast it we must arm yourself with whip and be pre- | parpose pared to go down the road and uff the road at | tirely de & rate of speed varying from a wild run to no | picture. Though alarge animal it was inferior speed atall. First of all, the pig won'tgo, |in mascular st bute little beating makes him change his | weakest of the carnivores of it own mind and he starts off, especially if it isdown otherepoch. It came in . mably cool by clothing iteelf with the hides of brates better provided by nature, that it vanished conditions, food does not +upy ing. Therefore, this animal called w necessarily have become extinct s+ “How. then, has it happened that w is only one way conceiva and thut is that his « in some part of the world » large carnivores. to atiack im bis superior antelligs the teeth, claws atid vastiy euperior tre beasts, and through the pr velopment of his intelieet he throne of the animal kin powers of mind he is able to. competitors that are dange and even to enslave an uses such creatures, bipedal and qu as are Valuable as servants merely of that pro- duce food for his support. PHYSICAL SUPERIORITY “At the same time man looks ar day and perceives that what be the lower animais are vastly his superiors Without the aid of arti ut to his safety THE LOWER ANDrALs. strength and agility represents im many r very much lower type snatom: day, for example, be walks slug: flat of his foot, motion swiftly and gracefully upon « toes, as do the horse, the Kocky and other four-footed mammais. his band that you discov construction which cation of a consciousness beyond in of what man terms the beast of the eld, the reason that he himself tinds it more nient to live in a how by nature, he finds it comfortable to thin a shelter, as does that ot! ing, born naked, the hermit crab. “How wonderfal an animal is this that © with #o many disadvantages to start with, « sume the mastery of © wings like the eagle nor cl nor the mole’s burr. Not being ¥ fleetness of the bare in running, nor powertul jaws wherewith to grind uj tures be has killed. Anc he has accomplished. He ‘was the last of al the animals to come upon the earth; there brs been no addition made to organic life since be arrived. All the beasts with which be was obliged to enter into compeuution including those mentioned, were first appeared, the wonderful ancestral line of a as intelligent and as fierce as they are todas; but be bas conquered them all. io no difference to him that be lucked powerful Ymnds, because he could make them out of steel ‘as formidable as be might require. Though inferior in physical strength to the other creatures, he could dam up the waters of the bones of crea: yet, consider w vendant of an the rivers wos to make them turn his wheels and manufacture for bim whatever be chore. for like purposes, he was able to dig out of earth coul representing the cuergy of stored-up sunbeams that fell upon the earth millions of years before. Although sluggish of foot and not built for running fast, he could build machines that would outrun the storm in swiftness; without any equipment for burrow- ing, he could turn mountains into dust for the rpose of obtaining their stor metals, and while possessed of inferior sight, he could construct instruments for reveu ing to his vision the wonders of the heavens, as well as the most minute structures. MAN THE ONLY CREATURE THAT MAKES PROGRESS. “Man is the only creature in the world that makes progress. The bee constructs its iuabita- tion precisely as it did millions of years ago, and so it is with all other animals. not get ahead. Suppose that a day all his life and lives on prec: come, with nothing to spare: be lays up and is no better off at the end than he w the beginning. That is just what all the b do. But this extraordinary creatare of which we are speaking differs from the others in he hasan excers of nervous and intel’ectus capital; he is continually producing sowersing more than he consumes and it is this tact which is represented by the progress of civilize There in nothing more remarkubl has accomplished than the alteratia his influence has effected among the lower a er creature has he stowed such affection and trom what ‘bh devotion as tu Upon what ot il incarnate has been tra: formed by mai pussy that purrs beside the scended directly Meck sheep and goat we ing from crag to crag and tiyi @ wild baffalo and th dotuestic fowls were birds of the air, field aud forest, the useful but unpretending a boar with tusk changes are these which man has made in the fauna of the worid. Doubtless his task ia this tion was begun with the taming of uni- captured when young. Naturally he pre- oped the more gentle and otherwise desirable qualities, killing others, until by this process of artificial sel tion the wolf has been transformed into a dog and the wildcat into the bousebold tabby this performance be may be suid to have ex- hibited himself im the light of a creator, follow= the methods which nature bi for the improvement of species.” Blanche Young Keleased. Mrs. Blanche Young, charged with adminis- tering poison to her husband, J. Norris Young, and causing his death, was discharged from custody at Westchester, Pa., yesterday Hemphill, after and soon. Wis served those which uerself’ adopte the testumony of tue wysicians, decided that there was uo sullicicat to hold ber. ——— ree Close of the Mohonk Conference. The Mobonk negro conference at Mohonk e tF