Evening Star Newspaper, November 14, 1891, Page 7

— a THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C, SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1891—SIXTEEN PAGES. =, = jonths, but they attend the like that; mothers who have looked into a| wasexhausted. Some he used to wan- | in his well-outlined happy face. His tempera- CURRENT BASE BALL NEWS. schools at Hope in the winter. yawn’ we where beautiful young hope and | der about until it was long past midnight. | ment had aaved him all that. His black hair —— the institution is non-sectarian, most of the exultant ayaa and strength lie otil—stll Those who did not know him said he had got | curled crisp and close over an unmarked fore- |The National League Adjourns Without children are of ee and they and alone. into a bad way, and was avagabond. But I| head, his brown eyes had the golden clearness Making Plans for Harmony. the church of denomination at ‘The other mother felt the wild swell- | knew that it was not so. £06 sees in the eyes of some fine young animal, | Ty National Base Bali League in Kew York Anacostia. BY FRANCES HODGSON BURNETT. ing in her own breast and tearing it. Great} “One night—it was the last time he tried to he had a gloriously olive skin and a body which edjenranl lute youtanhay af = r drops rushed up and down her face, and | sing at all—he came in with something in hie| was full of grace amd strength. When he | *4jout yesterday afternoon, subject to she put out her band and laid it on the peas- | hand and sat and stared at it. Mother of God, ant’s arm. he looked like a ghost—a lost spirit—a con- “I—know you cannot help it,” she said, demned fool! ly. They were the the first simple words that opened his fresh red lips the notes that poured forth were golden sweet. Those who listened found ita to look at his joyous youth and call, without announcing whether it had taken any steps toward making peace with the asso- ciation. A rumor prevailed that Mossra. Written for The Evening Star. Pant OL There being very little (Copyrighted. jdren the doctor's duties Spetaeseere BEC eATTaSings oa the at ar onepledby jeasure merely “There are some people at the Grand Hotel maty. As the - Soden and Robinson had been ap- — de Anglais,’ he said, ‘they are forestieri, two | scenes of the opera succeeded ench seher there | BTUs, the employes. CHAPTER V. Gime to her. Somehow it seemed merely | signoras. Once or twice they had thrown out | enthusiasm grew. ‘The queca ‘lemeed formeed | Pointed a committee to confer with the am Continuing, the dividing line between Good — human that there should be in that moment no yy to me. They are generous. I suppose | smi , the applause grew deafening. They | ciation, but this was emphatically denied by Hope and Anacostia is soon reached, alittle east HE LADY IN BLACK AND HER FRIEND | berrier between them. They were not signora | the: rich. Iknow why they throwit to me, it | called him out again and again and yet again, of Mr. Anderson's blacksmith shop. Here Good Hope road ends and Harrison Anacos! ins. The latter street is followed to the Navy Yard bridge, which is crossed for home, a visit to the thriving town of Anacos- tia being reserved for the next tramp. the delegates. It was said, however, that Mr. Soden of the Boston league club and Mr. Prince of the Boston American Association cluly would continue to talk the matter over, and throngh them the league and msociation might © and_poasant—forestieri and Italian women of | is the people—they were only two mothers who had lost the blood of their hearts. Woman raised her poor face, wet, lined, erate. had always been very fond of the Citta Vecchia They often climbed up the steep hill- side streets and visited tho most unique corners of it. They knew the narrowest passages, the archways, and dark little stone stairways; the “ause they pity me—they pity me. They hear how bad it is—how broken and hideous. ‘They know I have lost it—and they are sorry. Tonight they throw me this from their bal- cony.’ And he held out his wasted trembling hand with a “Once they and he came bowing and smiling with jor. At the end of the last act the house was throbbin, with delight. Flowers rained upon bim, an: Tere so heaped about his feet ‘that he could pis not remove them unaided. D eir eyes looked into each other. piece of silver in it. The lady in black had been holding on her | some agreement. Most of the dclegates i South of the bridgo the ‘tracks of the Shi The cher mother's face was wet, too, and | would have given it from pleasure. That is over. | knee a large bunch of deep purple violets. She A ° pall mecti herd branch of the Baltimore and Ohio ral Se ee ee ee suddenly she, too, leaned against the wall. Biagousl. Lmall nevecaagaga? bent forward and threw then! to him herself: | £0F home in the evening. The base bail snoetiny road are crossed. , postponed the free pass and the dea: ur boy died,” she said. “Mine is dead, “He kept the piece of silver, because he saia | He saw her, and raising them from the showers ‘THE ANACOSTIA BRIDGE. ors donkey, or calf. They knew the fountains | too. 5 fel'mninded him of the time when such things | of more brilliant color, bowedlow with aradiant | ctipts questions until the spring meeting, whici i it | where water was drawn and the big one where ” said Lisa, hoarsely, and look: fell tohimfrom so many balconies and win- oki ta Hew Verk. Mick Pielepaesls peasbaboreop lorry tps the women stood around the squars stone and black draperies. “I heard | dows, and this was the last he should ever! As they rose to leave their box the young oe On 6 comm the old piles upon which it stood are still visible | basin and washed their clothes, talking and | ‘em speak of you. But you—you area rich | hav fellow with the bright face was filled’ with | signora, and he, your 801 | Byrne of Brooklyn and laughing together. They knew the white ie wanted nothing.” | She sobbed a little and rubbod her eyes with | exultant excitement. elected as board of directors for 189 THE OLD TAVERN AT GOOD HOPE. , ABamble in the Country Across the ( a and Da on our right. It was over this old bridge that And she bowed her head again, ~ the end of her handkerchief. “How perfect it all bas been,” he said, as he . meer oh fo am enn Booth dashed on the night of the assassination | church at the top of the highest point, the Ma- | “Hehe wanted lifes" wuispered the lady in| “After that he only lay in his bed. He| folded bis mother's about her. ’ “How | Brush and Hs eadhen tie deen ee ) Melgn, quartermaster ponersl of the army, | of President Lincoln. donna della Costa where the peasante went to | black, ‘and I could ‘not give it him!” She | coughed and burned with fever, but I would | perfect! He ‘could mot here hag sgeniee — * now retired, is two and a half miles south of mass and where there were somany queer votive mong her hand on her breast. “I could not | not believe that it was all over. He had been triumph. How happy he must be! How glor- ROADSIDE SKETCHES Benning and four miles east of Anacostia. tly colored and strangely | PUY it oF beg it, or search it on my hands and | sucha beauty, and had sung so well a year be- | ious it isto think of st. He must feel “cha | WMERE TRE ASSOCIATION was THE ADYAWTAOM * | "East Benning road, by which the fort was Pictures—small, violently colored and strangely | knees, or work for it like a servant, asif Ihad | fore, and he was so young—only a boy— Anacostia. JT RoaD ON THE RIDGE. cturesque Views and Historical Spots—Old Touses and Dismantled Forts—The Village £ Gocd Hope—The City Stretching Out er the Hills, | Wt A GLORIOUS SEASON OF THE | Fear is this for country walking! How ¥ this Indian summer weather! Nature « best, and cordiaily invites you to come td enjoy the attractions that che presents. woone's Ridge, east of the Anacostia, along | © elevated tree-clad summit of which the | saders of Tax Sran will be conducted on this | xeursion, is not surpassed in natural loveli- sess by any section of country in the vicinity f Washington. Arriving at Benning by way of West Benning road, East Benning road is followed to the eastward to Bowen road, thence to Good Hope Toad, to Harrison street, Anacostia, to Navy «ard bridge, to Wasbingten. The roads traveled on this excursion are all Reaching Benning and moving along by the southern exposure of Sheridan Heights the scenes witnessed and described on a previous tramp are again visible. Half a mile brings you to Central avenue, which is passed on the left. Half a mile beyond this latter point Jones’ A.M. E. Church, a small frame building. is Passed on the left. This is the society that seceded from Piney Grove Church in 1859. ‘dioining the church on the south is bury- «ound, while on the hill opposite the re- us of an outpost of Fort Sedgwick are wible. This old fort was originally called ‘haplin, but in 186% it was rechristened in scnor of the gallant and popular commander of the sixth army corps, who was killed in the saddle at Spotsylvania Court House, Va, during Gen. Grant's final campaign against Richmond. An eighth of a mile brings you to Woodbine brook, which is spanned by a stone bridge. BOONE’S HILL. Winding around the hillsides for another mile or more you are at the base of Boone's Hill, upon whose commanding summit was ‘ocated one of tne prineipal forts constituting the defense of Washington during the late war, mtly reaching the point, near the top of the hill, where the road forks, you follow the eld road to the left, which leads through the Femains of old Fort Meigs, that occupy an ele- vation 304 feet above the mean level of the ON EAST BENNING ROAD. reached, is noted for thé great number of gum trees that are found along its sides. Now, resuming the tramp. follow Bowen road to the right a mile, bringing you to Ridge road, which is passed on the right. Fort DUPONT. ‘Mr. Thomas Brown's pleasant{frame cottage and green house on the right, an eighth of a mile beyond, occupies the site of old Fort Du- pont. Some of the earth works are still there in a fairly well preserved state. Far-reachiny views are obtained from the house, whicl stands 303 fect above the river. ‘The fort was | named for Admiral Dupont, the hero of Fort Pulaski. Large beds of beautiful flowers—em- blems of love and peace—now flank the old works that were once presided over by grim- vixaged Mars. Advancing, the straggling settlement on the roadside, called Cater or Nonesuch, is soon reached. Just beyond here on the right, in the midst of @ large peach orchard, is noticed a pleasant country place, which was once the home of Mr. Sayles J. Bowen. Not far beyond Bowen’s, on the same side of the road, you pass a neat frame house sur- rounded ‘by well-kept gardens, which occupy the site of old Fort Davis. Some of the old works are yet preserved. The elevation is 303 feet above the river. A few hundred yards west of Fort Davis is the entrance gate to Mr. Havenner's country place. His residence was destroyed by fire a couple of years Pennsylvania avenue extended enters tho Bowen road at this point. The route of the avenue is already cleared of timber and under- brush and its early grading is assured. A light vehicle can even now traverse iteasily. It makes a delightful short tramp, the roadway being shaded all the way, as it winds around bill and through dale. to the Suitland road, rt. Half a mile brings you which is passed on the lef Not farfrom there Fort Baker is passed on the right. The old works stand 29 feet above tide level. This fort was named after Gen. E.D. Baker of California, who was killed in action at Ball's Bluff,on the upper Potomac,early in 1861. Gen. Sickles had his headquarters here at one time during early stages of the war. Scme of the old works are now standing, but they will soon be in memory only. The ground which they occupy is a part of the Naylor estate, re- cently purchased by a New York syndicate, and a force of convicts from the work house ,in picturesque garb, is now engaged in leveling the ground and cutting streets through it. T, Sistand 32d streets extended pass through the old fort. Magnificent views of the city and country around are presented from this point. Goop Hops. ‘You are now in the suburbs of Good Hope, a Pleasantly situated, growing village. It stands high, being some 300 feet above the level of the Potomac. Good Hope is an old sottlement, dating back more than a hundred years. It takes ita name from the hill on which it is built. ‘The little frame house that stands back from the road a little west of the public school is suidd to be the oldest building in the place. The river. (Ihe right or new-cut fork runs straizht up the hill tothe Bowen road.) main Yorks of the fort are on the right as you ad- vance, but they are hidden from view b, old or western end of it was built nearly three- quarters of a century by Mr Thomas Anderson, a blacksmith, whose shop stood in front on the roadside. Mr. Anderson was the shick growth of young pines. The riile pits | are exposed on the left, and climbing upon these, at an elevation of somp 300 feet, you are rewarded with a magnificent landscape vie father of twenty-eight children (nineteen girls and nine boys) by two wives, fourteen by all born in the ald house. each. They were Mr. Oden Prather, a contractor, now oc- looking north and east. The Capitol, Soldiers Home, reform school. Diadensburg and Hyatts- fort our road runs into the Marlboro’ pike, Bowen road also mak- ing a junction here. You are now just outside of the District line, in Prince's George county, Md. log cabin north of the old line of works is a landmark. It was built more than thirty-five years ago by its present occupant, Brooke Berry. Uncle Brooke and his polite ld spcuse are intelligent old i who cheerfully entertain you reminiscences. TI! seventy-two and sixty-six years and both a remarkably well preserved for their years. | ‘They were allowed to occupy the cabin during the war, although th» scldiers were all around them. ‘They teil you that the soldiers of Ger Sickles command were the first to occupy the fort, and they retain a vivid recollection of the ‘general himself. since befo’ and endurin’ and expect to die here,” remarked the old man, as Iwas abcut to thank him for bis ad bid him adieu, on the occasion of ' EE OLD BooxE uotse. old frame building that stants a few | to the northward, with « brick | either end, was built more than of @ century ago by Eleazer | after whom this hill and ridge were! The ich the house stands | ir. ihe | Brooke ite 7 Hi hill upon “Stoney in @ large slavebolder, ef the estate to George son, Jobn M. owned it ay sepa until which time it bas been ttel of his at one time. About | The ct nephew, | cupies it. nother very old structure, and one that also claims the distinetion of being the oldest in the place, is the Jenkins house, which occupied the southern angle formed by the junction of the Bowen and Naylor roads. It was known as “Good Hope Tavern” in old times, and was kept successively by the Surratts and Jenkinses, being a popular resort. The house was occupied by Gen. Sickles as head- quarters for some time in 1361. SICKLES’ MEN WERE THERE. By the way, Sickles’ “Exceisior” ; which was composed of New York city troops, did much of the early work on the forts along the Bowen road,and the general is well re- membered today by many of the older resi- dents of this section. When Sickles’ brigade was first organized. at the beginning of the war, the seventy-ninth New York, Col. Cameron's Highlanders, wa: assigned to it, but the fastidious Scots did not like the assignment, and they kicked against it so vigorously that the authorities immediately transferred the regiment to another command. ‘The cause of this feeling against Sickles grew gut of his killing of Barton Key on a street of Washington in 1859. Sickles, it will be remem- dered, was in i If in men who objected his splendid fighting bi le earn ap itself, and ite gallant commander, who ultimately attained the rank of major general of volunteers and commanded an army corps, was one of the most ‘and popular officers in the army. A post office was first established in Gobd Hope in 1847, Me Jusen fe shardson being the oe the Naylor road, Now, mov the old Wadsworth house will be noticed on the left, opposite the blacksmith’s. whose name is now linked with the Lincoln as- sassination conspirators, and Those mortal ending wasso tragic, was married house. Her maiden name was Jenkins. Near here you take Good Hope road to the owed villa of Good Hope Pack, sue eee, ck, wl on the left, 1s the mouth of Chichester rood, which leads southwestwardly through the col- of that name to the Hamilton road. Park should be visited for the sake Wid landacape views it farniahon ¢ jashington rough | which Anacostia winds ite way to the broad Potomac are in full view. He of the ‘THE GERMAN ORPHAN ASYLUM. The present iron structure was built in 1875, at a cost of $116,000. It is 1,700 feet (or about 8 third of a mile) long; the roadway is twenty feet, and each sidewalk five fect wide. The bridge is strong, having withstood the preseure of some heavy freshets since its construction. The great flood of 1889 came near wrecking it. Reaching the northern end of the bridge, you proceed homeward. This should be a wheelmen. ‘The r objection being the he: ular excursion with re all good, the only y grades leading to the summit of Boone's ridge. Bowen road, which was named in honor of ex-Mayor Sayles J. Bowen, is an extremely interesting piece of highway. Its course leads along the top of Boone's ridge, which has an average elevation of more than $00 fect above the level of the river. Richly diversified landscape views aro Pretented at every turn. Parts of the city of Yashington are visible nearly all the way from Fort Meigs, atthe junction of East Penning road, to Good Hope. Gronor Srumoxs. es HER THRIFT COST HER LIFE. The Keeper of » Chicago Saloon Murdered by Housebreakers. Mrs. Gretchen Lenzenhagen and her fif- teen-year-old son George were found dead in the former's saloon at 444 Sodth Clark street, Chicago, yesterday morning. The woman was choked to death by unknown robbers, who then beat and choked the boy until life left his body. The robbers forced open the till in the saloon and ransacked the drawers behind the bar. The three living rooms of the woman in the rear of the saloon also showed signs of the work of the murder- ers. The bed clothing was torn from the beds, drawers were from the burean and the contents seattered all over the floor. Everything which was capable of concealing any valuablos was thoroughly ransacked. Mrs. Lenzenhagen and her and made but few intimate acquaintances, but the woman had frequently expressed her lack of confidence in banks and it was com- monly rumored around the neighborhood that she had considerable wealth secreted about the premises. The woman was last seen when # closed her saloon shortly before midnight. TI ‘oring to find out who were and oxpect that they will detinite clue to the per- lived alone 2s NEW PUBLICATIONS. NEIGHBORLY POEMS, on Friendship, Grief and Farm Life;—“The Old Swimm nd "Leven More Poems. By BENS. F. JONSON, of Boone (James Whitcomb Riley). Indianapolis: ‘The Bowen-Merrill Co. Washington: Wm. Ballantyne & Son. THE CONSTABLE’S TOWER. A Tale of the ‘Times of Magna Charta. By CiaR.orti Yonex, anthor of “The Heir of Kedclyffe,” New York: Thomas Whittaker. FISHER AMES—HENRY CLAY, ete. By Dante. B. Lvcas, LL.D., and J. FainFax McLavonut LL.D. "(Hour-Giass “ Series.) New York: Charles L. Webster & Co. THE TRAGEDY OF IDA NOBLE. A Novel. By W. CLARX RUSSELL, author of “The Wreck of the Grosvenor,” etc., etc. New York: D. Ap- pleton & Co. ARCADIAN DAYS: American Landscapes in Na- ture and Art. By W. H. DowNgs. Jliustrated by Bicknell. Boston: Estes & Lauriat. THE MOUNTAINS OF OREGON. STEEL, Society. By W. G. ‘ellow of the American Geographical Portland, Oregon: David Steel. BASIL WOOLLCOMBE, MIDSHIPM. By Arthur Lee Knight, author of “Jack Trevor,” ete. ‘New York: ‘thomas Whittaker. THE ¥I ROAD. A Hand-Book for Parents Teachers. By Joan W. Kkamen. New homas Whittaker. VENTURES OF A FAIR REBEL. By Marr AP Uni. New York: Charles L: Weuster & Cot Memories. ‘With apologies to James Whitcomb Riley, Engene Twirl Cart Smith and omer, weaters dialecti= Say, Pete, do you remember, in them happy days re, When ine. and you was workin’ in ole Stubbs’ gros'ry store, A chemin’ Stubbs’ apples, nuts ‘n’ raisins all the day, ‘An’ Kep’ poor Bill a wonderin’ why the bizniss "Ne how uur Hale they lectered us for perpetratin’ A-playin’ puny ante in th’ chureh at sermog-timet "N’ how we loved Sal Peterby, as lived ter Hickory- "Nhow, me Punched each other's heads, ‘n' ft as Sal bowed to me ome day, wouldn't bow "w nex’ day smiled so sweet on you ‘n’ cut me ‘WP how ele jited both on us ‘n' married Silas Becus we yenny-anted in the church at sermon- Haw, haw! Yedot Yer got it all stored deep dowa in yer heart, ‘'W from no single mem'ry of them days gone by e'd part? Waal? Pete, 'mn glad ter hear ye say thove words what you has spoke, s °N’ jest ter prove yer mem Ty's good, ’n’ yaint a-tryin’ ter joke, ‘Jest auell out ihat there dollar, Pete, ‘a’ likewise ere dime, ‘Ye've owed me sence we played that last small Sane at sermon-thinel Kendrick Banga in Harper's Weekly. ———+ee How He Got It, catastrophe from which the victim had been rescued by some patron saint. These were designed things representing the scene of some interesting to examine, as each one told its story. There were pictures of storma ut sca with fisher boats apparently about to be elt there were pictures. of run- see on the point of dashing some es; there were othere of lightning striking, of sufferere from dangerous illness, from casualties of all kinds, and generally in me corner was depicted the figure of the int or Madonna desceading from paradise to one the sacred protection between the victim and impending death. Each one had been given ‘n commemoration and gratitude. They were simple and primitive beyond de- scription. but the faith they showed was o touching thing. ‘Only.” the girl's friend used to say to her, “T should like to know whe the artist is who does them They are so wonderful. Perhaps there is un artist among the peasants in the Citta Vecchia who does them all and is quite celebrated in his way. Ducing the last duys the two friends spent in San Remo they went two cr three timer to the old city. One beautizul afternoon they turned into the climbing streets after leaving their favorite flower shop, loaded with white narciasus and hyacinths, gold-yellow daffodils and scarlet and pink ane: They climbed to Brigitta’s house and up her little dark stone stairway to pay her a vi Brigitta looked with open curiosity at ig: nora, whose mass of flowers looked so bright against her black dress and pale face. But there was nothing eccentric or curious about her. She was very quiet and civil, and had a low voice and eyes which seemed to have wept a great deal. ehas wept for the boy who isin para- dise,” Brigitta thought. “Poverina! But he is better there after all—though it is true he norine.”” ‘The visit was not a long one. It was all set- tled about Giovanni by this time. Cola had given his consent and the rest kad been easily ranged. ‘The forestieri, it secmed, did not hesitate about parting with their money when they had decided to doso. Giovanni had the chance to be a singer if he chose to work and his voice turned out well. Among other things the signora had given Brigitta a new dress and _bri head handker- chief. The handkerchief was quite wonderful, and the dress was one that would last for years. : “But when Giovanni is a great tenor,” said the signora, smiling, “you will have more dresses than on Brigitta «1 it. |. “Who knows what will happen?” “{hope what happens will make you both happy.” the si “Giovanni igitta, course, be happy if he becomes well. for the matter of that, #o shail I.” She was standing near the window when she said thiz, and she looked out and shrugged her itvingly. goes one who is not happy,” It is that poor Lisa whose boy died.” Poor woman!” exclaimed the siguora, i ‘when did she lose him?” wecks ago,” Brigitta answered. “And it seems as if o-do, and very wretched after his voice was gone. seemed as if he did not care to live. And now his mother goes and leans on that wall every afternoon when her work is doue and stares an he used to at the church and the oli . only that she is always crying. ‘They say she is erying herself blind. “Her man died lind nothing but the bo; ‘The girl with the gray eves approached her friend ‘and puta light, loving band on her shoulders. “It is very sad,” she said. the story of the ‘Other,’” the lady in black answered” “I knew it must be sad; I felt it in my heart.” CHAPTE VL. When they found themselvos outin the street 8 little later it was as if involuntarily they turned toward the step which led to the Chureh of Madonna della Costa. Just below the in- clined paved steps leading to it was the terrace with the low wall against which one could lean and look down the aimost precipitous hillside on to the vineyards and the shallow stream. By turning one's gaze to the right one sweep across olives and villas and palms to the curve of the shore from which road the bili where thg white little Church of Madonna della Guardia kept watch over the blue sen and those who braved its dangers, if there could ever lurk dangers i tly rippling lake-like calm. It was « lovely pomt to look eut from, this low wall high up in the “‘old city,” which was so tiny that it was tore like a town, though it was always called the “Citta Vecchi As the friends drew near this point they saw the figure of a peasant woman leaning with arms folded on the grassy stone ledge before her. She was not Ps but carclesely ressed. Que imagined that she had felt that it was of no consequence to herself or to others if her bodice was ill-fastened, her crinkly, black bair unkempt and her head hundkerchiet ili-tied and awry. She was staring straight before her at the hills and the sea, and seemingly scarcely noticing the words of another woman who stood by her with a bundle of fagots on her head and her hand on her hip. But the two forestieri heard what this woman was saying, in a well-meaning but common- place tone. “Pationza, Lisa, patienza!” she said. “Of what good is all this? Sorrowis natural enough when one’s child dies, if one hae not so many that one can be spared, because one feels it will better cared for. But to go mad with grief and Weep one’s eyes away, when one has no one left to be eyes and Lands for one, nothing but barm can ‘come of it. And it cannot be Genied that he could never have been happy aguin—Pasquale. He had lost his voice for good a nd could not pt voice as well, and had been ahealthy, handsome fellow like Giovauni, whom they say some rich forestieri have taken a fancy to and are going to make into a grand singer.” Lisa turned her faco upon the speaker. Her tear-inflamed eyes seemed told me. may be sure that now is the time, now that he is dead—dead-—like that—that I’ shall hear of some other—some other——” She choked and dropped her head in her hands. Her thin breast Canved and struggled as if it was imprisoning some fierce, sweliing thing which strangled to get out. “Go,” she said. “I wish you no ill, but carry ur home. | You niean well, but I want Dea a easaut woman stared at her a second with a questioning face, and then she uddenly to glare a | had he Fon | 4 teed to never Been a lady at all. No one could sell it or give it to me—no one in all the great, pow- erful, wonderful world where the wise men know so much. I had always given him every- thing—he thought could give him anything eli ‘but I could not give him that, and he was Young, and it seemed so beautiful to him--and he wanted it!” And ‘the bowed her head, too. seer bauale,” said Lise, “my boy did not want “Try—try to be comforted that he was not forced to bear it,” said the other. “But ah! poor woman!—God help you—if he did not want it.” He wanted it onc peasant, loved it three years ago. rsago. Itwas all the voice—the beautiful silver voice that broke hi« heart—was false and deserted hii that tricked him and left him to di “Poor boy! poor boy!" wept the woman near her. And the pegsant knew thatthe tears were for the young dead she had never seen. ‘He always sang,” she went on. “When he was a tiny thing with round cheeks and big, binck eyes—so pretty that the forestieri stared him and gave him soldi for his good looks id his long eyelashes—even then he could sing. He used to ty and make sounds like the birds, and if he heard an air in the street he would try to repeat it and then clasp his little hands and laugh for plewure when be had made it right. And I was proud of it and boasted of him to the neighbors and made him sing for them. He was like a little bird; he gy his head on one side like one when e sat on my knee and sang, looking from under hi es. They were so long as that"—measuring her fingers- he had Gesu Bambino, and soft cheeks and strange eyes which seemed always to be listen- ing for music in the air—such as we could not hear. And Iwas proud and let him sing. ought to have put my hand over his little red ath and killed it then—then—that voice of silver and gold that wassuch a traitor and a faise friend.” “But you loved it and were happy,” said her heare: know. I have one boy left; he sings. “The saints give to him that it may not end in grief,” said Lisa. “We poor peasants—poor enough—when he was old enough to go into the streets, it wasa fine thing for us that he could go and si He was so handsome and his voice was such a wonder that the forestieri liked him. They gave him money and were always praising and petting hi There was no other boy who lived like him. It was almost as if he bad been a real signorino, though he lived here in the Citta Vecchia.’ If he did not sing one day be- fore a hotel or a vilia the next time they would ask why he had not come. Jf he had been ouly like other boys and cared for nothing but the praise and the money it would have been all right. But he was not like that. He had strange feelings about his music, and he was always finding something to read about singing and great singers. I loved hu and he loved me, and I listened with all heart when he talked, but I did not quite understand. He knew I did not, but still he loved me, and always told his thoughts to me, He loved his voice; it was his treastire, and he wanted his life to be all music. He was willing to work all day and ali night ifho might six well in the end. And they told him—the forestieri who knew about voices, and Maestro Méchori—that he might some day be a great ‘Singer—a jpettone! ne “He might have been,” said the listener. ~¥our@inow that istruc. He t have ans ” She hesitated a moment with parted lips—a strange light of thought seemed to leap intoher eyes and rest there, though she did not finish. “He used to come here and lean against the wall at sunset,” said Lis. ‘He would look out over the sea to the Madonna della Guardia, and it would seem as ifhe were in a dream. When he came in to eat, it would seem as if he had just wakened witu a smile on his lips. It was then that he was seeing his visions of what he would do when he was a young man, and the whole world loved him because his voice was of silver and gold. Her voice fell, and she remained silent a moment, resting her forehead on her hand. ‘Then she began: ‘Ido not know how it first changed,” she said. “Maestro Mecheri thought that he was not renlly strong. though he looked eo—and he caught cold and sang when he should not. One day he came in tome with a strange look on his face. He told that he had tried to sin could not. His voice had sounded as if the voico of another. He tried to be patient at first. He waited two days and then went out again. But be could not make the right sounds. It was like that many times—that he to Il it seemed to do nogood. Maestro Mecheri said he did not wait long enough and perhaps his voice had already — began to change—or perhaps it was that his malady had even then struck him. One night when I came in I found him sitting alone. “His face was white and his forehead was damp with sweat. He was hoarse when he spoke. He said, ‘I cannot sing, { cannot sing, Thave lost it.’ Ltried to console him, but it seemed af if he could not hear what I was say ing. He had been to one of the villas where the people had always praised him and they had not opened the window or sent him money. And as he had been going away wondering end heavy hearted, a servant had secn him and said Was it you singing? No one knew it was thought it was a stranger. sound like your voice. What is wrong?’ “Alter that it seemed asif he grew desperate. In spite of his hoarseness he would try and sing alone. He would shut himaclf up and ex- ercise his voice. He said that it he worked steadily it might come back. He began to cough and became thin and he could not sleep at might, but he could not give up. ‘Once when he was exercising I heard sud- denly that he had stopped ‘and I went quietly and stole aglance at him through the door. He was lying upon the floor weeping with heavy sobs. Idared not speak to him, He was my son and he loved me, but there were times when he felt he was far beyond me in some strange way—and I was only a peasant woman. But he loved me—he loved me. Mj heart was warm to him and so feithful. ‘Seusi, Signora. I am telling you a jong story.” Tell it to me—tell it,” said the lady in black. Tt will ease your heart to speak. Sometimes one wishes to be quite silent—one cannot gj at ali—but sometimes one must go over it all ” cried the — tw « mother who loves must be the same always,” eaid Lisa. “I have knelt before the Madonna in the church there, feeling that gh must understand sho was like us after all. it her son in her arms and she stood by w him die—and could not help him.” ross. myself if she looked on” she went on—“if she looked down at the Cit Vecchia in those months that came after. Surely the Calvary was not more terrible. They were 80 long—so long. “And so short,” the other mother said in a voice like a cry, ‘And she caugh' iknow it all; woman's hand. long and so short: | her shoulders and went sway, turning into the | ho aaging crest near by. ly in black was breathing quick}; the mother of ‘the Other she whis- mother of God—only fifteen years old ne night—it is not «month ago—he slept restlossly and at last he began to sing in a weak harsh voice—panting and broken—it was ‘Addio bella Napoli’ he began, but the strange broken sound wakened him. He started and stared at me as if it was I whose voice he had heard. “ ‘Who sang?’ he whispered—‘who sang?’ But @ moment later he lifted bis head from the Pillow a little as if he was listening. It was very strange; he was as white as snow, but he faint), " smiled. His eyes did not sce me, he— # listening to something I could not hear! “Ab! that is better,’ ho said softly—and while he seemed to listen—a breath of some- thing seomed to pass across his face, and make it quite still, even the smile—and ‘his parted lips and open eyes. “Iheld my own breath for a second. And then his head sauk on the pillow—and his eyes closed.” Is there any one who can say it was a strange thing that the gloved hand and the bare rongh one caught andelung to each other, and that two women sobbed as they leaned’ upon the Citta Vecchia’s old gray wall and felt their hearts beat against its stoniness? CHAPTER VIL. Many things happen during ten years, and yet atthe end of them it scems as though somehow, after all, the time had flown very quickly! Young things have grown to man- hood, fortunes and reputations have been made, so many structures have been built up stone by stone or have fallen into dust and been forgotten. People have grown happy or sad, good or bad, lives have begun and lives have ended. And yet one says with sudden wonder: “Can it be ten yearssince then—really ten years? During the ten years after the two mothers stood by the wall on the stecp of the Citta Vecchia many things had come to pass in the queer old town, which had always seemed tobe crumbling. The mother who was one of the forestieri been Lisa's friend before she had gone away herself. The two had understood each other. Lisa had been enabled to live and work quietly in her old house without fear of sutfer- ing from poverty. She had not wanted much, and she had a friend wit could not desert her, though she was far away. Over the mound where her boy lay there was a slender white cross, and upon the mound many flowers grew. On the cross the peasant women used to hang garlands. On the coast of the Mediterranean ‘one may afford flowers. there were things the stranger mother had said in their talks together which Lisa had taken to her heart and always remembered. They were things of which she did not speak much to others, but her thoughts dwelt on them with strange comfort when her day's work Was over; she used to go and lean upon the low wail and look toward the hill where the Ma- donna della Guardia watched over the sap- phire sea. in paradise,” sho used to whisper to herself. “They say that even thore who have not sung on earth have voice given to them. What jay he would feel when it all came back to him more golden anddear than ever. saints would listen to him; and the Madonna herself—sarely she would smile and keep him near her, because he had suffered so on earth. And the signorine—who was a bey, too, and had so many boy friends on earth, perhaps — they surely wo uid have known each other, be- cause their mot we Wept together. he would sing again, he would sing again.” As the years went by there were many inter- esting stories of Giovanni. It was told in the Citta Vecchia that bis voice had become a won- der and that he was becoming famous among the masters who trained voices and great things were prophesied of him. He was strong and well-grown and handsome as a picture, it was id. “He had sent a photograph of himself to ‘igitta and Cola, and they were by no means averse to showing it to their acquaintances and repeating what had been said by the people who knew what voices were. ‘And then came the time when he sang for the first time in an opera. To the Citta Vecchia it seemed like a fairy story. He had sung ina great theater filled with grend people and lights and jewels—littie Giovanni, who had always sung in the streets, had been’ more than roud to bring home a few francs. There had Coen wondectel eramery on the —places as fine as the kin; and Giovanni had moved about acting and singing as if he had been used to such things always. And the peo- ple had been wild with joy and had applauded and risen in their seats and thrown flowers at his feet and called aloud his name. And from that time has life was more like a fairy story every day. It was the great excite- merit of the Citta Vecchia, and Brigitta and Cola were a happy pair. They need not work atall. They were quite rich, at least Giovan, who was a good fellow, after all st his grandcur, sent them plenty of money for all their simple wants. It was delightful to go out with them just to hear their stories and discover how grand the world was. Brigitta and Cola aiways had pienty of visitors after Giovanni's career began. And one evening those who dropped in’ to chat and drink a little wine comfortably found them wearing an air at once reverential and triumphant. They had just had a new letter from Giovanni, who was in Kome. “Tonight,” — brigi announced breathlessly, “this very night he is to sing be- fore the queen and the king! They have asked it, and all the court will be there to hear. It was true that on this night his audience was a very magnificent one and that the royal box was filled. ‘The king and queen had come to hear this wonderful new young singer, who had risen like a star and who bad once ‘been ouly a little street-singing peasant. And because the king and queen had come the court had tollowed and the house was a splendid spectacle. There were beautiful women and rich dresses, glittering jewels and flowers and soft colors and perfaines every- where. And every one was talking of the mar- Felous young tenor and the great fame which had come to him and the great fortune which the future held. In one of the boxes were a lady and a young man who were evidently not Romans, but their interest seemed almost greater than the rest of the audience. It seemed an interest a little “You were very ad then, dear, “But oui of Pg all Giovanni’ earth can scarcely hold more Ho stopped a moment and looked down at his mother's face. Her eyes were wet, but they were filled with a shining smile, which was almost strangely happy. He took her hand and drew it through his pressing it lovingly against his side. ‘ouare thinking of something, de said, “*what is it?” She met his young eyes, her own glowing even more radiant] “Why,” she said,““we understand each others’ thoughts so well that it must seem. strang. fanciful to you. Iam thinking of “ You know how sad it was, that story of {gst now, as I saw ail the flowers nnd th ike lights and heard the roar of the aj and glanced at the king, I thought al of ‘the other.” Giovanni has the earth can give—but ‘the oth been all these years in the go! With the open gates of pearl! “Wi —who can know what his life He has sung, too—and the King has hes Perbaps there was stillness through ti fair wondrous spaces while all listened. two—of Giovanni and the other—which of them tonight—which of them—" And her voice fell into soft silence. And we whe know ouly life of earth with ail its incompleteness an longings unfilled whisper with bated breath, >” he great Of the “Which of them—" "ALT Which—Giovanni or “the other.’” THE EXD. to PATENTS AT THE FAIR. A Novel and Interesting Exhibit to Be Made by the Interior Department. NEW DEPARTURE WILL BE MADE BY <4 the patent office at the world’s fair in Chicago. Hitherto it has never attempted to g0 beyond an exhibition of photographs and drawings. In this instance it will offer an elaborate and comprehensive display of models. The show will be designed to illustrate as com- pletely and as vividly as possible the age of mechanical civilization. It will give in con- crete form @ picture of the progress of invention. The commissioner of patents says that the great exhibit of the patent office will be Played. All that will be attempted in the show Proper of his bureau will be to illustrate the Processes through which those achievements have been perfected. For this purpose groups ‘of models will be prepared. For example, one group will represent the progress of the steam engine, beginning with the first one, which was invented and built one hundred and fifty years before Christ by aGreex named Hero. It had & boiler and was able to do work by means of a shaft and belt attachment. From this primi tive contrivance to the modern Corliss engin in miniature, an interesting series will extend. Other groups will be similarly arranged. One will represent the printing press, all the way from Gutenberg’s original invention to the rotary Hoe machine, which turns out new: P _ at the rate of many thousands per bour and folds them ready for delivery. In elec- tricity wondcrs of all sorts will be illustrated by progressive series. Therewill be telephones rauning all the way from the primitive concep- tion to the perfected instrament now in use. telegraph will be introduced with the ‘Bat | actual instrument made by Morse, by which the first experimental messages were scnt over the from Washington to Baltimore, this line of discovery culminating with the latest devices for printing messages at any distance | with type and transmitting one’s own hand- writing across thousands of miles of space in a fraction of a second. The growth of the loco- motive will be shown in like manner. Also that of the sewing machine, of the marvelous mod- ern agricultural implements from primitive types, of clocks,from the water clock of ancient Babylon and the later hour glass, &c. Many of the models required for these groups | are already in the possession of the patent of- ! fice, but a large number will tave to be con- | structed especially for the purpose. Manu- | facturers ail over the country will be asked to supply specimens of their products for repre- senting the latest developments of inventive art. The locomotive works will be requested to lend miniature models of their newest en- gines. Makers of agricultural tools and sewinj Machines will contribute the most improved specimens of their handiwork. Likewise with Printing presses and everything else. Few, if ny, of the mechanical models will be set work- ing, however. On the whole this exhibit of the Department of the Interior seems likely to be the most remarkable and interesting of all the government displays to be made at the fair. tt FIREFLIES AND THEIR LIGHTS, American Fireflies, English Glow Worms, Tropical Lantern Flies and Centipedes. FiWeliies HAVE BEEN PUT AND ARE even to this day applied to some curious uses. In Santo Domingo and other West India islands they are employed for lighting pur- poses, being confined in lanterns, both for going about the country at night and for the illumi- nation of dwellings. By attaching one of them to each foot while traveling in the darkness they serve asa guide to the path. They aro also utilized in Cuba and elsewhere for orna- ments, wherewith the gowns and coiffares of ladies are adorned on festive occasions. One can read by the light which a few of these in- sects give. One point that may be urged in be- half of these fireflies is that they kill mos- quitoes, finding in the latter their favorite prey. The ancients were probably unacquainted with the species of fireflies which are so familiar in this country, because the most remarkable of these are peculiar to America. The great tantern flies of southern Europe and Asia, which are sometimes called “flying glow worms,” are allied to the boat flies and water scorpions. On the other hand, the firefties of the tropics are beetles The latter are of som- ber hue in the daytime, and it is only at night that they show their lights. The English glow worm is the wingless female Gta wwinged Deotle. Some suppose that the light she bears is bestowed for her protection to scare away the nightingale and other noc: 2. 01 assisted to disco Much speculation has been indulged in as nature of the glow worm Poe=8 t out by water nor ly forth any heat. It bas been asserted diff substance contains to the is not Regarding the outlook in base ball a special from New York to the Philadelphia 7» “So far as can be learned by fragmentary talks with the dele the ab rcheme ig only seriously considered as a means of putti ap with the ass eay astop to the presect : thon. It ia nov regarded as a permanent possi- bility, and if the associ were go into any agreement prov or mcireuit of that kind it would fing » Worse position thin it was in "84 when it was used as n club to beat the Union Association to death. In fighting in the open the association has demonstrated thet it ia able to bold its own at least with its older Tival, but just as soon ns itenters into a cabinet meeting itis sure to be 1 RAIDING THE “PHTLLres.” Gleason, star py of the Philadelphia league clab, who had signed with |has by an arran; nt between Wagner and Von der Ale been ti hile the St. Louis Browns for next se ~ of 84.000, of which €500 was in aly Gleason was satistied with the transfer Promises to be the Brown's star twitlor a year. Exper, who also was as good ns sig: Athletics, has at President ¥ citation been assigned to Bu Hamilton, it is aid, has sien ton Reds, and he pose the champi die Richardson isto be) on second, Farrell on th short. AL. Myers, second baseman of the TP shia club, announces his retirement { Siamond.” He has bought a half inte ‘Terre Haute saloon and will take cha Monday. He says he was signed for year, but has had enough of base ball BASE BALL. NoTES. Van Haltren, the Baltimore club'scay manager, is watching the work of severs players on the Pacific coust. Van Hi sign one or more good men for the lifornia if he ean find The Baltimore club is ii if & second bas 2 next yee ut on fir ird whose money drew. Dire : President | share at € been y offer that there ation im@he Quaker rince likely to sell ont his Bosto ciation club to Soden, the leag: thus give the association a One of the most disastrous fires in years, from the fact that an entire family were con- sumed, occurred at Columbus, Obio, early yeu terday morning in a row of tenement houses on North High street. ‘The exact origin of the fire remains » mystery, but on the first alarm flames were seen shooting from the roof, lick- ing np everything within grasp. The firemen bendeavored to enter the rooms, but the dense smoke made this useless. Ono of the captains did get partially inside the buildings, but was Pulled out again nearly suffocated. Two hours Were consumed in gaining control of the flames and long ere that every person was supposed to have escaped. Such, however, was not the case. It was nearly 4 o'clock in the afternoon whea a little girl living in the neighborhood, wit childish curiosity, rummaged throagh the ruins and founds ‘naked arm, which led to = search and the ultimate discovery of five blac ened bodics burned to acrisp and beyond recog- nition. The entire family of Charles Bethers was destroved while sleeping in a Little 8 by room in the second stor Bethers, aged thirt; aged twenty-cight; aged six, and James, a ‘They were Charles yhting the flames of the pipemen stood in a window sending a stream into this room without discove ty dying occupants, who were unconscious unable to utter a cry. The search among the ruins following t victory over the fire was not as rigid should have been, and, nothing being the entire force was ordered back to q Toward the middie of the ater Garrison, ® frieud of the family, w: the other end of the city to safety. Noone was able to sired information. Meeting |i wan, who was playing among learned that a body was in the ash MORRIGLE RESULT OF THE ‘The firemen were summoned and took up the second search. What they discovered was hor rifying. In that cigar box room were three beds, cradle, stove and bureau. lay the father with the infant cls arms. It was evident that he had « the true realization of the dang started out with the child when overcome by the heat. ‘Ine mother, knecling near the heod of the bed, was hal! buried beneath the failing root. The two girls slept, as they had retired, in their little cot. All of the bodies, with the flesh dropping from their bones, were removed to the coroner's. The fire is supposed to be of incendiary origin, as two suspicious characters were seca leaving the scene the damage was started. A full investigation will foliow and not a litt criticism 1s passed upon theaction of the fir department in not making a thorough examin tion before leaving. ‘The room was ouly tom feet from the ground and the entire family mught have been rescued. ———-o+_—____ Lord Beaconsticid's Cabinet. From the London Datly News. It is a remarkable fact that in looking for @ successor to tho late Mr. W. H. Smith in the leadership of the house of commons Lord “Salisbury could not fallback on any member of Lord Beaconsfield’s cabinet. With the sole ex- ception of Sir Michael Hicks-Beach, who, as we stated yesterday, would not for reasons of the 0 aiked quire after the rthe Cammina, Fee Ei