Evening Star Newspaper, January 9, 1892, Page 7

4 THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C... SATURDAY. JANUARY 9, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. WT Ten exclus Tas eve VN} Stone © Congrance Hovntl TO, AM GOING TO BRING A 1 of mine tosee the hospital afternoon and—and I hope he will be very much pleased * bot. ver. Greygrey looked up from his| Pp writing at these words, but before he could rise the speaker had closed the door and departed | with no further remarks. But Dr. Greygrey understood that those few heralded the coming of some exceptional personage were intended as agentic hint tohim. A moments later he was saying tothe matron: “The doctor often brings his friends down, you know, but he never said anything before- band, so this must be something special. I would like the place to-appear at its very best. I hope the sun will come out brig! that makes b a difference, yo know.” The matron modded assent and then hurried off to make certain by an extra round that everything was at its “very best." Meantime Dr. Greygrey returned to his office to read, but his reading on this par- ticular morning was considerably interrupted by the frequent looks he cast at the window to | see if the clouda were b He was rather young. very prond of his hospital, and wanted every one tobe as much pleased with it as he 1 to pleese Dr. Bronson. Most people wished to please him. Dr. Grosgrey was not the only person who watched for the sun, for as Dr. Bronson drove around paying bis professional calls he kept sharp lookout on the clouds. eis 60 he said to himself, “and feels little things so strongly that I want it to be bright and cheerful when she first sees the hospital. The doctor was in the habit of bringing his friends and acquaintances down to the hospital, for few people who knew tl doctor did not become interested in him, ‘and it was next to impossible to be interested in him without being interested in. bi work also. Hardly a week d that he did not show « number of visitors through the wards. But he had never before been so anxious about the impression that the place would make. In fact, as he acknowledged to himself, he bad never wished so much to please any one as be now wished to please Miss Mor- ton. Up to this period in his existence be bad found it a very easy matter to make people like him, for the gods had bestowed their gifts on him’ with a lavish band. To a fine type of manly beauty they had added a brilliant mind, an unusually sweet, genial dispo- sition and an abundant ‘supply of this world’s goods His practice bad already reached generous proportions, but he still kept his place on the visiting staff of the Broad Btreet Hospital. He was devoted to his profes- sion, but not so much absorbed in it that he did not find time to mingle in the gay society of the capital. Here, as everywhere else, he favoriteand it was whispered about he might “have had his choice the fairest flowers that decked theater and ball room night after night, but as yet he hed not made a selec- tion or favored any one by his exclusive devo- tion. But one evening he met Muriel Morton, and after that evening everything was changed. She was spending several months witha friend, and long before ber visit was drawing to a close tue doctor had made up his mind that he had something to say to her, but somehow be never had mustered the my it Soc ty stood astounded to see the man who Lad stood so calmly in the face of all the beauty, all the charm of the city’s belles, render at’ last, surrender so completely. king, Muriel Morton was were fully a score or blown blossoms who one her. But hers was a beauty that did not depend for its charm on 1 AM GOING To BRING A FuyEND. perfection of form and color.” There was no decided beauty in her clear-cut irregular features, her pale complexion and her deep gray eyes. To be sure her brown hair was thick and fine and all quivering wita golden lights; her figure tall and slender and ehe car- ried her well-shaped little head like but ber real attraction was her’ spiritual beauty, the lofty refinement of mind and heart ‘that spoke in her every look and gesture. Hers was one of those natures that respond with burning intensity to slightest sensations; a gorgeous sunset filled her coul to overflowing with glad- hess at its glowing beauty: asoft chord of music would set every fiber of her be- ing quivering in unison with it, and it was this quick, deep sympathy and responsiveness that lent her her wonderful charm that gave her her wonderful influence over others, an influence more felt than known. ‘True, she had sehooled herself to hide at times the ebb and flow of her emotions under a cold exterior, but even at such times one felt that somewhere in the girl's heart there was a sweet sympathy—a sympathy worth gaining. It was 3 o'clock in the afternoon end the sun was pouring the full tide of its splendor in at the windows of the Broad Street Hospital, fill- ing the airy wards, resting in benediction on the white caps of the nurses as they went on their inistering errands, ing the pale cheeks of some ry sufferer or dancing over the thin of some little child, who smiled as it felt it brought a message to To some it whispered “courage,” for ‘were to grow strong and work beneath its ‘8 again. To othere it «aid good-bye, for this was the last earthly sun they might look Bpon. Dr. Bronson stood at the entrance to the childrea's ward. He was fully satistied with the success of the visit and Miss Morton had been charmed with what she had already seen, and she loved children, so that this ward would be sure to please her. They were bending over a bed now, in which little boy was sitting propped’ up among pillows. “This is Jimmy, the little lad who's such an artist." Muriel bent down and looked into the pale little face with its large, soft eyes. A sudden mist came over her own as she stooped down, kissed the wan little cheek and then passed quickly on. Little Jim lay quite still fora few moments and held his breath; then be murmured: “Ef I was one of those big fellers my doctor told me "bout I'd make a Picture of an angel jus’ like her." Now, little was the pet of the hospital. He was such ® pathetic, gentle little fellow and yet so cheerful, so heroic and unselfish that, from the tiniest ‘child to the politest patroness, all loved bim. lyhe had developed quite a talent for drawing, and his sketches of his fel- low sufferers were quite remarkable. A mauy fair faces’ had bent over Si Little cot and his beauty-loving eyes bad drunk them in eagerly, but none had ever seemed half as lovely as the one that had just been so close to his. He turned his eyes away from her ‘&s one of the assistant physicians came to the side of his bed. “Tne best one of all has beea here today—my doctor,” he said, looki into the gentle face bending over hi she is by the bay window.” looked “up and met Muriel’ the soft, light touch. each. th eyes. ‘They both startedand then Muriel bowed—such ® cold, haughty bow. The young doctor flushed and bent still closer over his little patient, but did not seem to see him. He stood there some minutes before he gained his composure, aud Saying some cheerful word, passed ou to the next case, leaving little Jim sorely puzzled as to what was the matter with his d Several times be murmured to himself: “Ef I could only help "m some, but I'm such a little feller Tean't think o° driving bebind a pair of fast borses and listening to the doctor as he talked of bis hospital work. Shehadasked him totell her about some of his doctors and nurses, and as be described them he watched the face of the giri besiio him with admiring courage to| ho's oldish in some of his ways; never goes out nights or anything of that kind, though wo all tried to make him. He might get up a pretty good practice if he wanted to, for he writes n good deal in medical journals and has quitz a reputation. He's a great favorite with all the hospital people, and some of the old ladies are forever begzing him to settle down in private practice so they can adopt him as family phy- sician. He's a great favorite with the children endcan manage them ensier than all the rest of us put together. ‘The eccond assistant is a young— But Muriel had forgotten to listen and heard but little of what the doctor said during the rest of the drive. ‘The pale olive face. the slender figure, bending over the little hospital cot, had called up a host of memories, memories that for the last years she had tried’ to obliterate. She remembered so well when she had first learned to know that face. She was only eixhteen then; her mind and heart were fairly flooded with ‘pure and lofty sentiments and all the romantic ideas of youth. Into the midst of this had come” this man. He was her hero, she endowed bim with all virtues and crowned him with all the laurel wreaths ker imagination could weave. His love for hor was | never spoken, but showed itself in a hundred ways and with no fear of the future. With the | one thought that he loved her and that that | Yas enough, she went back to the city. This er “coming out” year and she soon found | herself in a whirl of gayety, but it made but | little impression om ‘her, for she was always looking forward to the summer, when her aunt would go to Europe and she would return to the little village by the sea. If the thought of his lowlincss and poverty ever crossed her mind it but served to strengthen the love in her loyal little heart. If she ever compared bim with the men of cul- THEY BOTH STARTED. ture and position whom she met constantly, the comparison wasulways in bis favor. When the ball or theater party was over her thoughts never iingered long on the merriment just past, but before the carriage door was fairly closed she was living over again those delightful summer days, and when she laid her head on her pillow her last thought was of the earnest eyes that had co often looked into hers, her last prayer for him whowas so far away in the little | seaside town. Finally the longed-for day ar- | rived. She had sent no word to her friends of her coming, for she wanted it to be a surprise. Ail during the journey she had pictured to herself how he would look and what he would say when he first saw her. As she drove into the town she looked eagerly for his face, and then she saw him stroll- jing’ down one of the quict side [lanes with a tall, stylish figure beside him. | She couldn't see his face, but somehow a sink- ing feeling came over her and something | scemed suddenly to take her breath away. All that evening she wsited with restless impa- | tience for his coming,while Aunt Betty told her all the news, deseribing at length the comin; of a beautiful young widow among them ani | the young doctor's devotion to her. The next aiternoon sie saw him again driving with the beautiful widow. Then he had forgotten her,and the mingled pain of wounded pride and sorrow Was almost crushing her heart. That evening sho received a telegram from her aunt that made both her and Aunt Betty start for New York early next morning, leaving the old house- Keeper to pack the household goods. She re- membered so well the;years spent in Europe. How she had said to herself overand over again that he did not love her, wasnot worthy of her, that it was ali over, and et how she found er- self stilldgeoming of that first summer loving him; and how, finally, this battle be- ‘pride and love had ceased and her heartache wascured. But why had her heart fut- tered so when she saw him standing by little Jim’s bed. It could not possibly be that she loved him now. She was only aschool girl then, an inexperienced child, but now ehe was @ woman, and considered a remarkably fusci- nating woman. Would she waste her love on the man who had caught her girlish fancy? Ab. no, it could never be now,she thought, with half a sigh. But when she awoke next morn: ing her first thoughts were of the children's ward, and ail day long the dark face, with its earnest eyes, flitted before her. Little Jim’ was right, something did ail his doctor, for that evening as Perey Legrange sat in his little bare room his books aud papers were untouched, and when at 2 o'clock one of the night nurses came to ask for some special directions he was stillup. His thoughts, like Muricl's, had flown back’ to the dour® delight. ful when first sh» had come quiet life. Ab, what castles in Spain he had built in those bright days! What dreams he Greamt, only to wake to the sting- ing reality that he was poor and unknown: that the path before him was a steep one. But Youth is courageous and not easily daunted, and so he determined to wait and work until he should make his name one worth offering her. When the autumn came she went back to her city home. How bright her life there would be in comparison to the poor life of this little town! All through the dreary winter he wrs tormented by the bitter thought that in the midst of all the gay scenes he would be forgot- ten or she would learn to look down on him and his poverty. He found no sympathizing spirit among the rough fisher folk among whom his work lay,and as he went on bis daily rounds and looked out on the cold gray #ea and the barren bills and saw only poverty and suf- fering in the lowly cottages his heart grew heavy and his courage failed him. . Late in February, when winter was beginning | to loose its hold, a new face was seen in the vil- lage and a new chapter im Percy Legrange’s lite opened. At the age of twenty-seven Gertrude Lenin found herself in au extremely comfortable position in the world. A widow of three years’ Standing she was possessed of a princely in- SHE BAD MARKED THE POEM BY A DEEP RED CROSS. come, glowing beauty and a raro gift of fascina- tion. She had slain “her hundreds” in her | time, and, in fact, this was etill ber favorite | pastime. ‘On this particular winter she had | fellen prey to the universal enemy, the grip. It left her so weak that her physician insisted upon two or three months of perfect quiet before Teguiar summer camj com- menced and recommended Dundee. Arrived there she lost no time in following the directions of her physician, and sent for the best doctor in the town. It thus hap- | pened that before Gertrude Lenain had been in Dundee two hours Dr. Legrange was at her bedside She had expected to be very much | bored during her stay in the little village, but | the moment she saw the young doctor she knew she had found some one with whom to amuse herself. She insisted on his paying her professional calls every day, and it was not long before she was really interested in him. He was so boyish, so trusting and al- most childlike in many of his ways, and yet so scholarly and well read. He was so frank and open-hearted, and yet so reserved and digni- fied; so quiet and gentle; he xed as well as ‘pleased her. As’ for the young doc- tor, this woman was a revelation to him; | wooderful break jin the monotony of bis life. When he was with her ho lost all reserve. She was never surprised at eyes She had never looked as lovely. gnything, and, always sympathetic, she was How bright her eyes were, how eagerly | lenient in her religious views and tolerant of she was listening. jo had just tin-| the small sins of mankind. Her manner was fehed describing Dr. G then he went on to the first assistant Then Lagrange; he was. in the chil- ward while we were there. entered into every phase of ber life. After be- | come to live with me—with me vague restlessness, dissatisfied with himself and full of self-reproach. Ho never said anything to Mariel that would betray his love for her, but he often spoke of her to Gertrud in glowing terms of her beauty, her mind and pure ideals. Gertradesoon discovered that he was in love with Muriel Morton, but she only laughed and raid to herself: “Some pretty school girl, who has captured his fancy for a time.” As the days passed by and as Mrs. Lenain grew to know her physician better she saw that his ambition and tient would make bim one day a distinguished man. Sbo was fast learning to love lim with as deep and sincere emotion as it was possible for her to fecl. She saw all that he might become with the help of her influence and wealth and redoubled her efforts to gain and keep his affection. Mean- time asthe summer approached Perey Legrauge WHEN DB. BRONSON BUOUGHT HIM A PACKAGE OF DRAWING INSTRUMENTS. became more and more impatient tosee Muriel and more anxious to talk of her to Gertrude. It was late one evening when be returned from spending the evening at Gertrude's boarding Placo that his mother told him of Muriel's are Tival. He determined to see her early the next morning, but before daybreak he was called out to see a patient living at some considerable distance from the town. It was a troublesome case and he did not get back until late in the afternoon. As he drove into the village he re- membered that he had promised Gertrude that he would drive her over to the cliffs at 30’clock. He hurried home to have a fresh horse and to arrange his dress. He could hat mowents with Muriel before keeping gagement, but when he looked at his watch he found that it was fifteen minutes late. He hes- itated a moment. He had half a mind to break his appointment and go to see Muricl. But then he remembered how particular che was herself about such things and that she had often said she liked to sce a person follow the line of their duty, even when it lay in the way ofher pleasure. lie decided to take Gertrude and ‘ell Muriel allabout it thatevening. Ho thought of this meeting ali that afternoon. When just at dusk he was driving into town he met Muriel and her aunt driving out toward the country. If he lad been alone he would have turned around and joined them, but Gertrude was witb him, so he contented himself with leaning far out of his buggy to smile and bow brightly. As for Muriel, she bowed coldly and formally and leaned back in the carriage so that in the dim light hecould scarcely seeher face. When tho doctor arrived at home his mother told him that she had seen Muriel in the afternoon and that she had gone to spend the evening with friends living a few miles from town, The memory of that long evening came back to him as he gat in his little study. How long those hours had seemed, for now he was truly anxious. He must see her. What was she thinking of him? He had not called on her yet, but she had seen him twice appar- ently absorbed im another woman. Several times he rose and paced the floor. On his desk lay a dainty volume bound in vellum. Gertrude had sent it just after they had re- turned from the afternoon drive. She had marked the poem she wished him to read by a deep red rose, the kind she always wore—her city florist keeping her supplicd with them. The little note that lay with it requested that the poem, as it was a short one, might be read, and that he would come over that cvening and tell her what he thought of it,” but the book lay untouched until the heavy perfume of the rove filled the room. Then the doctor threw the flower impatiently into the | street, and it was many days before the book | was returned. Next morning he did not wait for his breakfast before he sought to see Muriel, but only the old housekeeper met him with the news that Muriel and heraunt had started early that morning for New York, and would sail for Europe immediately. That was the end, for all the letters he sent came back unopened. The next year passed quietly away: he lived through another dreary winter, and another summer came, bringing with it memories of other sum- mers and the knowledge that his gentle mother was passing away. In theeaplytaibhe laid her 1SE, YOU KNOW. in the little churchyard, and then, with nothing left to care for but his profession, came to the nearest city and entered the Proad Street Hos- pital. As Dr. Bronson had said, he was a great favorite, and, had he chosen, could have been welcome guest at any of the brilliantsocial gath erings. but the only houses at which he called were those of the poor and suffering, and here he wasa frequent visitor. A tew weeks before Muriel’s visit to the hospital a rich and eccen- tric old gentleman who had taken a fancy to the young doctor died, and, having no family, had left his entire property to the young doc- tor. Such a rare piece of luck would have de- lighted most young men, but to Percy Le- grange 1t made very little difference. If it had only come that first summer, he could not help thinking. he could have asked Muriel to marry him, and everything would have been so dif- ferent, but now he did not care much. Here was a chance for him to start out on his pri- vate practice, but he kept his place at the hos- pital, and things bad gone oz as usual until today, when, as he was examining his pet tient, he had raised his eyes and scen before im Muriel. The same Muriel of that long past summer, only somehow different; the same pure, sweet iace, but wearing a calmer expression than it liad worn before. For a moment as his eyes rested on her face the old delight and rapture came back again, but it gave place the next moment to a feeling of utter hopelessness. He could see her now as she stood there. How beautiful she was; how dignified and queenly! He loved her now as much, yes, more than he had loved her then. Now he had a name worthy of her acceptance, and yet, he said to himeelf, that it was all over and that it could never be. It was eusy to see that Dr. Bronson was deeply interested in her. She would marry him and be happy, und with an aching heart he prayed that she might. e next day little Jim was surprised and delighted when Dr. Bronson brought him » package of drawing instrumentsand paper and told him that the young lady who visited th ward yesterday had sent them. The child delighted, and as it was one of his “‘good days he immediately sot to work to make a sketch of his beloved doctor. During the next few days he made several sketches, but they were all same gentle face. It was his childish fancy to half a dozen sketches and then show them to the doctor altogether. When Dr. Legrange made his round of the wards on Saturday afternoon he was surprised to see Inid out on Jim's bed a series of pictures of himself. “It's a surprise, ou know,” the little follow explained. “I kept ‘em 'tilll got a whole half dozen, but this morning the beautiful lady, the one like an angel, came with the flower ladies, I showed her my pictures ‘cause she sent me the things to makerem with, an’ while she was looking at ‘em tole her how good you was and how I loved youan’ she said: ‘That's right, little Jim, he's worth loving,” an’ then she took the best picture and asked me to give it to her. I wanted to keep it to show you, but she looked like she wanted it an’ like she was goin’ to cry, sol it to her.” Little Jim had hoped in his loving little heart that his work would please his doctor, but he had no idea that it would make bim'as happy as it did. He even seemed to be pleased about that best one that the angel lady had taken away. Ten minutes later Dr. Greygrey was sur- prised to hear his first aseistant asking, what was for him an unusual request, to be absent from the hospital that evening. It was late ‘when he returned, and as he passed the door of the children’s ward he paused and went in to take a look at little Jim. ‘The little fellow was not asleep, but was sobbing softly. He had heard some one say that his case was a chronic nd that he must soon be sent from the hospital, away from the only home he had ever known. As he finished the pathetic little story the doctor bent over and taking the child in his arms said: “Yes, little Jim, will send you a from the hospital, but ball to live 6 ‘and ae angel On the walls of a fine art, gall one of the most dit hysicians B— you will find among paintings by famous artists a little group of water colors and sketches, the work of an_ inex; ced hand. They occupy the place of honor, and in spite of their crudencst show the dawnwig of a great talent. Tho doctor's wife will tell’ you that they are the works of littie Jim, nud then you will hear of the artist of the Broad Street Hos- pital and how he only lived a few short years After he came to live with his beloved doctor. She will tell you that it was little Jim who brought about the doctor's happiness and hers an‘i show you tho rude aketch that she values more than her finest painting—the httie pencil sketch of the doctor drawn by the loving fin- gers of the artist of the Broad Street Hospital, y owned by in COTTAGE. A Protty Little Home ThatAttracts Passers- by. From the New York Herald. ‘Mrs. Cleveland may or may not be s good housekeeper, but she certainly has a very pretty home here among the pine trees, and she knows how to make it attractive and the passersby curious. The spell of the woman is over it all. There are windows upstairs, down stairs and on every side, andeach one has @ touch of beauty in it. The soft muslin curtains are tied back withgstrawberry ribbons: fastened to the spindle-cornered rockers and — fiddle-back chairs ease-inviting head rests and slumber bags covered with bright satins and velvets may be seen; upstairs one window sill is filled with white and yeliow chryeanthemuma, and an@ther is gorgeous with scarlet goraniums in fall bloom. Occasionally there is the figure of a woman, with soft brown hair, sitting in the sunlight gently rocking toand fro. Her back is toward the window pane, but her head is bent, and the object on her lap may be a book or some- thing vastly better than any love story that ever was written. Then thero is another, a stronger picture, on the west side of the cot- tage, representing the living portrait of a man in whom the whole nation is interosted. He sits at c small red-wood desk, the width of the sash, with a grill-work trimming running across the top, above which the characteristic face is just visible. Unless an intruder ap- pears upon the scene his eyes are not raised from the papers that crowd him for desk room. From early morning until the daylight is gon he sits here with bis pen and papers, as bus ithtul cierk. When you can't see his massjve forehead above the ‘grill-work railing you may be reusonubly certain that be is out driving with his wife or upstairs in the sunny nursery playing peek-a-boo with another girl. A new board walk has just been laid from the avenue to the cottaze door, and while the car- penters are about the place it wili not be sur- prising if @ picket fence is built round the grounds, Carriage people arrive in the village every day and either cannot or will not see the pro- hibitory sign boards forbiuding all trespassing on private property. It must be stated in jus- tice that the majority of the peopleabout Lake- wood are either ill or infirm and err without thought, Of course the livery people know that they are intruding, yet they calmly take orders and drive wherever they axe told. But notwithstanding the blicsfulness of ignorance and the apathy of invalidism, Mr. Cleveland's family is constantly being annoyed by the pro- miscuous use of the drive about the cottage. ———\eo— “Joe” Jefferson Talks About the Drama. From the Baltimore Sun. No one, perhaps, at Ford's Opera House last night enjoyed the subtle wit and charming vivacity of “The Rivals” more than Joseph Jefferson, the actor. When not himself driving all caro away from his hearcra by his own de- lightful humor he watched the scenes now and then from one of the boxes with twinkling eyes and appreciative applause, than which ‘no sweeter tribute of praise Sheridan, the play- wright of old, ever received. Bob’ Acres, di- vested of blond hair and towering curl papers, though still in the huntsman’s “pink,” wascon- verted into the gentle, kindly man, as modest and retiring asif no iaurels had’ ever been won, as if no storm of public applause had ever filled his ears. ‘Truly, a gentleman of the old school, if by the old school is meant all that is courteous, generous and true. The audience was, perhaps, witnessing the last eea- son of “The Htivais” in Baltimore by the great comedian, for next winter he will bend his ef- forts toa revival of “Rip Van Winkle”—dear old Rip, gentle, dreamy, tender-hearted old Rip—trom whose identity the actor's earlier admirers struggle in yain to separate him. When asked about his plans for the produe- Sion of the play whieh made hb Jefferson's ‘fame a household word, he said: “The ato! 1 change that will be’ noticed in the produc: ion will be in the scenic effects, which will bo much more elaborately and carefully wrought. Not so much as to overshadow the motive and interest of the play, however, for I do not be- lieve in making the spectacular effect so promi- nent that real art is thrown into insignificance. By this I do not mean that the spectacular and the sensational, in which much of the drama of today deals so largely, have not their uses and mission to fuliill. ‘The theater-going public is notsimply one class of thinkers, Lut many, and to please all there must be all sorts und conditions of the drama, which serves its good purpose in its own way, provided that its style is not degrading. We cannot give the people all pure, refined, intellectual comedy, for they would not have it. If we are to give this style only, we should not be doing an educational work the masses, but instead we should be de- priving many classes of healthful entertain- ment. ‘The same thing applies to all of the arts. As to the decline of the drama—so ready a theme now—I would say that in every branch of art there can bo distinctly traced periods of depression and elevation. The one comes from a surfeit of the other. Recall the time, for example, when Shakespeare was laid aside for “tom and Jerry,’ ‘The Bleeding Nun’ and many more such atrocities in the drama, and Gay's “Beggar's Opera,’ with a Newgate thief for the leading role, was drawing the musical world to the theater where the inspiring strains of Mozart's and Weber's operas before had held attention. The revulsion variably comes in the drama and music, as it does in literature, painting, journelism and soon. Pure comedy is not dead by any means. “ihe Rivals’ is as much appreciated now as ever, and is being given in Letter style tonight than ‘when I was young man.” —————-+ee —____ The Old Kaiser and Russia, From the London Daily News. In the memoirs of the late Count Von Roon, just published in Berlin, our correspondent there says, there are some interesting letters of the late Emperor William, which show how great was the sympathy of that monarch with Aussia, aud what diticulties Prince Bismarck ave bad to overcome before he con- the Austro-German treaty in 1879, On August 18, 1377, when the Russians hed suf- fered defext after defeat at the hands of the ‘Turks, the emperor wrote: “You judge me rightly in supposing that Iam deeply moved by the reverse of the Kussian army, and that I grieve with the Emperor Alexander. But the Operations since the passage of the Danube ar tomesriddie. * * * T hope with you tha at last victory will remain with the Russian army, but the Turks must be biind if they allow quietly the arrival of enormous reinforcements. i wish they may be so blind!” Events showed that the Turks gratified the wish. Ou March 12, 1878, the emperor writes: “When you wrote to me Plevna had just failen. Tho Russians went from victory to victory, and stand now before the gates of Constantinople, and will conclude = peace which will bring them little reward for the enormous sacrifices of life-blood, and all sorts of expenses. And who kuows what the congress (of Berlin) will Yet squeeze out of them in Armenia and on the anube. It isu great honor to Germany, and especially to Prussia, that this congress is to meet in Bertin in order to enable Bismared to attend. But to me personally many a bitter hour will thus be caused, for my part is that of an arbiter, and such an one cannot please everybody ‘The bitter remark, says our cor- respondent, proves how farsighted was the old emperor. ‘the breach in the close friendship rmany and Russia dates from the Berlin congress. RIGHTS OF WOMEN. The Effort to Secure a Constitutional Amendment to Be Renewed. THE COMING CONVENTION. Well-Known Women Who Will Be Here— Elizabeth Cady Stanton to Preside—Twenty- Five Years of Effort—What the Association Hopes For. —._____ poor NATIONAL AMERICAN WOMAN SUF- frage Association will hoid its annual con- vention in this city st All Souls’ Church on January 17, 18, 19,20. The average reader has grown accustomed to this announcement with the coming of each new year and the presenco of Congress in our midst. The two things are synonymous, for with each convention there goes forth fresh appeals or, let us say, demands upon the national legislators for theenfrancbise- ment of woman. ‘The suffrage movement is ontering upon its twenty-fifth year, old enough in years to have itself firmly established as a movement that will not be downed in the public mind, dignitied and serious enough & problem to have the best minds of the age engage in its discussion and having achieved results in its quarter of a cen- tury of work that the most sanguine could not have dreamed of, although the great object is not yet attained. The suffrage movement is widespread, thirty states and territories being represented in the last annual convention, and the prospects for this one are that nearly all the forty states and six territories will have showing in this. THE HOPES OF THE CONVENTION. Acouple of paragraphs from the call to this convention gives the most concise statement of | Ni what it hopes to accomplish. “As in December the twelfth congress to which we have made an appeel will assemble the women of the entire nation should concen- trate their influence on their respective Iep- resentatives and demand more earnestly than ever beforo a full recognition of their political rights ns citizens of the United States. The necessary step to this end is the submission b; Congress of a proposition for a sixteentl amendment to the national Constitution pro- hibiting the disfranchisement of citizens in any state on account of sex. “Though woman's struggle foremancipation has been long and weary, yet her indomitable determination to secure tlio blessings of liberty has ever made the struggle hopeful, and must make the end triumphant. With woman's present position in trades and professions, with school suffrage in half the states in the Union, municipal suffrage in Kansas and full suffrage in Wyoming, we behold the dawn of a brighter day’ for the mothers of the race. ‘The discussion of the great prin- ciples of individual conscience aud judgment in this republic for the last half century has given us a new type of womankind that can no Jonger be subordinated to the eaprice and tyr- anny of the powers that be in the church or e state. tus, then, with renewed hope and deter- mination, assemble in the coming convention, gud with united voices make our demands ear: WORK BEFORE CoNonEss. Now to get down to details. During the con- vention the House judiciary committee and the select committee on suffrage will each give the congressionsl committee of the association a hearing. ‘Lhe head of this committee is Susan B. Anthony, who has valiantly fought the cause of women before eleven preceding Congresses. Her associates are Mrs. Harriet faylor Upton and Mrs. Jean Brooks Greenleaf. ‘Ihe history of these appeals to Congress is interesting. In the early part of the movement no action was ever taken. A little later an adverse report was rendered—and ex-Speakec Reed has the credit of submitting the first minority report. In the next Congress Hon. E. B, Taylor of Ohio made a minority report. The only majority report ever made in the House was made by the judiciary committee in the Fifty-first Congress, Mr. Caswell of Wis- consin making it. ‘There was more discussion upon suffrage in the Senate and House last Con- gress than over before, because the bill for the admission ' of Wyoming provided for woman's suffrage. During the consideration of the amendment which was offered to defent this portion of the bill the subject was more thoroughly discussed than it ever bad been before. WELL-KNOWN WOMEN COMING. One of the signs of the increase in the suf- fragemovement is thatso many young women are taking hold of the work. About half of those who are upon the program for the coming con- vention are middle aged and younger. Of the pioneers in the cause Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Susan B. Anthony, Lucy Stone and Isabella Beecher Hooker are as well known as the cause itself—and yet being women, it is always easy to find something new to say about them. Elizabeth Cady Stanton, the president of the association, will be here’ in spite of the fact that when she went abroad a few years ago few of her admirers, end she numbegs them by thousands, cver expected to feast their eyes on her face again. More than coming to the con- vention, she will be heard before it in one of her characteristic addresses, entitled “The Solitude of Se For Susan B. Anthony the years seem to be going backward. There isa legend to the effect that a couple of years ago, in this city, she celebrated her veventieth birthday. After acareer of exceptional usefulness, hard work, uphill work much of it, constant travel, & public life in tact, she has just accomplished what she never yet had time to do, and that is to go housekeeping. ‘Aunt Susan,” as all the suffragists affectionately call her,’ has always contended that a suffragist need not necessarily mean a poor or ind.fferent housckeeper. On the contrary, she brought thousands of examples to prove that being a good suffragist naturaily implied the other. She is the latest great ex- ample herself. Susan and Mary Anthony went to housekeeping last summer in Rochester, and they are the happiest pair of women you can find anywhere. ‘They give teas and ‘diuners and luncheons ad libitum and their hospitable board presents many pleasant scenes. More than all that, 17 Madivon street, Rochester, means home for two busy women ‘in the midst of surroundings to which they have been fa- muliar since their childhood. AMONG THE YOUNGER MEMBERS, Of the younger women May Wright Sewall of Indianapolis is the best known. She is on the board of lady managers of the world’s fair and is president of the National Woman's Council. ev. Anna H. Shaw is the national lecturer and is a regularly ordained minister in the Methodist Protestant Church. The M. P. Church is » split off from the M. E. and num- bers many more among its communicants than ia generally supposed. After Miss. Shaw was ordained the denomination was afraid it was a bad precedent and refused to perform the same rite for any other woman. Miss Shaw is an interesting er Washit audiences, Mrs. Lide Meriweather of Tennessee made a most favorable impression at the convention last year. Bhe is a humorous talker and her = on “The Silent Seven” was one of the ‘Miss Anthony's « associate on the con- GFerional committee is Mrs. Harriet Taylor pton. Mre. Upton is the daughter of resentative Taylor of Ohio. She is well known in social life and distinguished in the literary coterie of the capital. Sho is a ready and fluent writer on many topics, and has written that readable book, “Our Early Presidents; Their Wives and Children.” Onsuffrage matters and indeed all public questions Mrs. Upton is woll EX-SPEAKER REED'S VIEWS. Ex-Spenker Reed is a believer in woman suf- frage. Sp are his wife and daughter. Miss Kitty Beed is young, but she keeps informed concurrent topic, Notlong ago she astonished her father by saying: “Father, it seem to me that you are growing lukewarm on the suff Inughed when he told thestory on him. tell ‘ile yas also asked if he thought wome: wero any nearer getting their rights than they were twenty-five years ago and his answer was: “Yes, twenty-five years nearer. But when? Ihely to be « long wey off yok, bas some ay to be = long way off yet some thers might come # great question to settle when the women may be asked their will. ® cote thon in a single day.” PROMINENT WOMEN INTERESTED. ‘There never was atime when there g M Sle see eee see home is, certainly not less nor at- contrary, elevated in every sense the home, where woman is the queen. In her own experi- ence she has found ‘the general tone of drawing-room topics has merged from small details, of which women's lives are so greatly made up, into the discussion of the projects which for the moment are interesting the best minds of all courtries. National politics are understood and discnsted in the most intelli- gent way by women, and the introduction of the woman element into local and stato politics has already wrought magnificent results. * Mrs. Senator Dolph has voted at echool elec- tions in Oregon. Mra. Senator Pettigrew al- ways attends the conventions Mrs. Senator Allen of Washington say she does not remem- ber when sht did not believe in ruffrage. Sire. Blair was always an ardent euffragist. Mire. Senator Hawley used to attend the meetings and feel strongly upon the subject. Mra. Stan- ford has always been interested in every part of woman's advancement and 18 a firm believer in the theory that women should receive the same pay asimen for the same labor. In the Leland Stanford Junior University girle and womén are admitted upon the same standing as boys and men and the same advantages in every detail are open to them. Mrs. Greenlcaf, whose husband is the Repre- sentative from Rochester, N. of the New York State Suffrage S Mrs. Burrows believes in the political Same 4 of the sexes, but has never identified with any state or national society. a It is to be presumed that Mrs. Clark, wife of Representative Ciark of Wyoming, voted for Lim, a privilege which only women in this new- fledged state can enjoy. DISTRICT SUFFRAGE ASSOCIATION. The District Suffrage Association was never in so flourishing @ condition as it is now. “I hardly think the members of the District or- ganization appreciate thir advantages,” said & lady who is interested in suffrage and who be- longs to a state association. “In our state, ‘hic fair representative of all state asso- ciations, most local societies pay 25 cents into the state treasury, and the state pays 10 cents into the National American treasury. The Dis- trict association only pays its 10 cents into the jonal American association and bas the re- mainder for its own work. Then most of the states employ organizers at a moderate salary. The District association has no work of this kind. ‘The state associations during the session of their respective legislatures havo commit- tees at the cupital to look after “their interests. ‘Then in every stateearnest women of moderate means iay by money, a little at a time, to use in the expenses of their annual visit to the capi- tal, 60 as to meet women interested like them- selves in woman's advancement all along the line. ‘The District women have all these ad- vantages right at hand. ‘The president of tho District socioty is Mrs. Ella M.S Marble and under her direction it has taken a much more active part in suffrage matters than it ever did before. The District of Columbia suffrage women will tender the national women a reception. This will be held at the parlors of Wimodaughsis, Incubator Fishes Are Now Given « Year's Growth Before Being Let Go. (TW. AND 4 HALF MILLIONS OF YEAn- ling fishes have been planted thie year in the waters of the United States by the fish commision. This statement is more remarka- ble than it may seem. Up to 1886 all the fishes artifically batched by the government were turned into the riversand lakes to shift for themselves as soon as they were out of the eggs Consequently nearly all of them were devoured, and out of every thousand young fry bat fow were expected to survive and reach maturity. Five years ago a first experiment was made with the planting of 13,000 “finger- Jings;” that is, Sshes which bad attained a sea- ®on’s growth. ALL TO BE NURTURED POR A TRAR. Before long all the fishes artificially propa- Gated for planting in this country will be al- lowed to get a year's growth before they are let loose. It has been found that one acre of Mater will accommodate 500,000 fry from the time they are hatched to the condition of fin- Serlings. Under such circumstances 50 per Cent of the baby fishes survive the season, at the end of which they are able to take care of themselves and have passed the danger point. In other words, when permitted to escape and look out for themselves m the streams or elso- where they mostly esca; tion Feach mature fishhood. "P* Sestruction and SHAD FOR RIVERS. Pretty soon this plan will be exclusively pur- sued in the propagation of shad for stocking the rivera. Conveniently near to each streain will be established suitable ponds. The fish commission will simply hatch out the fry and send them immediately to these preserves, where they will be permitted to grow to « finger's length before they are let go Fishes only grow during the warm season, so that at the end of four months, when hatched in spring, they are yearlings in size. ond 100 | acres in extent will accommodate 50,000,000 of shad fry, and at the end of 120 days communi- cation “with the river can be opened and 25,000,000 little fishes will swim merril “ to return in future years of @ marketable size. UNLIMITED QUANTITIES OF SHAD EGOS are always obtainable in the season, and as many millions of them can bo hatched in glass jarsasare desired, Thus the results to be se- sured by artificial culture in any river is only limited by the pond area used. A majority of all the fingerlings let go will certainly live to grow up and sweil the schools which annually it the streams for spawning. Exactly the Proposition applies to other kinds of 08. ‘The fish commission is at present rear- ing trout aud salmou on a like principle and with similar results. A large pond is now be- ing prepared at Gloucester, Mass., for stocking with newly hatched codtish, which will be put into the sea as yearlings.’ In this way it is hoped that tho catch of this valuable food fish along the New England coast will Dt greatly where of late many organizations have been holding receptions. ns ‘Written for The Evening Star. Mocking at Love, A minstrel fair, ‘With goiden hair And eyes of dreamy bine, + ‘Whose song and lute Were seldom mute, Save when he paused to woo, ‘Thus often to himself would sing: “I laugh at love—do It A flower of spring—a passing wing— A shade—and so good-byei” Alack the day Sir Minstrel gay ‘Met queenly Isadore! He sighed, he wept; Her heart she kepty Disdainful evermoret ‘Now often to himself he sings: “0, well I love—do I! But fairest things have fectest wings— A glance—and 80 good-bye!” —SEaTON Doxono. ‘Washington, January, 1992. ——_+e.____ IT KEEPS THIEVES WELL INFORMED, How Some Men Unthinkingly Reveal Facts It is Unsafe to Tell. From the Chicago Tribune. ‘The head of one of the oldest and most im- portant financial houses in Chicago said this, one day last week, with a great deal of em- phasis: “I much wish that our younger business men would exercise a keener appreciation of how injudicious it is to voluntarily appear in print by giving accurate information regard- ing euch matters.as the days on which their establishments have the most cash on hand, the mails in which they usually make their heaviest shipments of cash, and all that sort of thing. Only this week a young bank official did all of this and more. Not only did he name the days that the institution with which is connected has the most cash on hand and makes its heaviest transfers of moneys to the post and express oftices, but he gave the same information regarding two or three other in- stitutions of a similar nature. “There have been other cases where the same thing has been done by young men. It | is seriously wrong, wholly and entirely unbusi- | ness-like. To do so simply means the giving of valaable and otherwise wholly unattainable polulers to the highwaymen from whom weare caring with such alarming frequency and in so serious a manner of late. Were an oflicer or employe connected with our institution to di anything of the kind he or I would imm ately sever connection with that institutio: The man guilty of doing such a thing, either | wittingly or unwittingly, instantly forfeits all right to confidence. Such a man is either a| fool or aknave, and neither should hold a po- sition of trust.” Most sincerely do I hope that our young men will be more on their guard as to this thing in the future.” ———_+e+____ SAYING NICE THINGS. Complimentary Speeches Made by Historical Characters. From the London Standard. ‘There is a delicious story told of an old min- ister of the Church of Scotland who was often obliged to employ assistants during the latter part of his life. One of these was rather va of his qualifications as a preacher, but affected to be quite embarrassed by any compliments he received on that score. On his first appear- ance after the sermon the old divine went up to the probationer and was going to shake hands with him. Anticipating nothing short of high-flown praise, the young man ex- claimed: “My good sir, no compliments, no increase after a while. AS TO LOBSTERS, The same method would be tried with lob- Sters, but for the fact that these pugnacious crustaceans cannot be made to grow up to- gether peaceably. You put a dozen newly hatched specimensinto anaquarium and within @ few days there will be ouly ono—a large, fat and promising youngster. He has eaten all t! rest. Therefore baby lobsters have to be jet loose in the ocean when they are just out oF the and in this plan not much profit is found, ly gobbled by fishes, The | ching 5,000,600 of young _ males carrying eggs | t the ova are scraped off the swi- kept ina sort of water incubator until the funny little creatures burst the ebelis. Once upon a time, not many years ago, twenty-five pound lobsters were not intr quently captured, and there is record of forty- pound sp ens, but such giants are no longer seen, because they do not have a chance to get big before they are taken by the fisher- STOCKING STREAMS AND PONDS. One of the most profitable branches of the fish commission's work consists in stocking the streams, ponds and lakes all over the west with the native fishes of the Mississippi valley. They are taken in great quantities in puddles big and small, where they are left by the retreat- ing wators alter tho floods and are shipped alive to various parts of the Union. ‘hus Diack bass, rock bass, pike, perch, crappics, spotted catfish and other re’ being dis tributed throughout the United States very plentifully. | Trout of six kinds Lave recently mm introduced successtuliy to the Yellow- stone Park region—a territory as big as the state Of Rhode Island, which lias hitherto been practically bare of fish. ony TWO BIG NEW FISH. Recent Acquisitions by the Fish Commission for the World’s Fair, HOSE WHO SAIL UPON THE SEA AND fish in the waters thereof have always en- joyed exceptional advantages in the discovery of wonders. The fisherman who make their headquarters at Gloucester, Mass, often catch Tare and interesting creatures on their trawls while pursuing their occupation at the Grand Banks and on other great shoals off the coast. Accordingly. the United States fish commission appealed to them recently for aid in preparing a collection of marine and fresh-water fishes, which is to be an important feature of its ex- hibit at the world’s fair at Chicago, As @ re- sult, one excecdingly rare and another entirely new species has been secured. One of these is called the “lampris,” and is the first of its kind known to have been taken in these waters. It looks somewhat like the common sunfish of the brooks, though upon an enormously exaggerated scale, weighing fully 300 pounds. In color it is most brillant, being painted in vivid tints of red, white and blue. “The fins are crimson, the back sky blue and the sides of an iridescent whiteness, ‘The other fish is the “escolar” of the Canary Isiands, which is so highly prized there for cheap at $1. pound. It is not so very uncommon in the warm waters of the globe, but has never been caught here before. In appearance it is not very striking, being grayish brown in color; but its body is completely covered with an armor of small bony plates, each of which projects out- ward in two slarp’ points. The specimen cap- tured measured over six feet in length and had @ mouth big enough to take in a fair-mzed salmon. Loth of theee fishes were takon on the Grand Banks in water more than 1,000 feet deep. Their skeletons have beeu preserved for the National Museum. Before being dissected modeis were made from them and painted for the collection to be shown at the fair. ieee Couldn't Get That Class of Men, From the Chicago Tribune. She was a fashionably dressed woman, and she was evidently angry. When she bad se- compliments, I beg!” “Na, na,” replied the arson; “nowadays I'm glad o’ anybody.” low far this decidedly left-handed compli- ment fell short of the recipient's anticipation he alone could tell, but his feelings must have been somewhat similar to those of that tedious orator who, bar been in vain told by Henry 1V of France that he would be to bim if he would make his flattery as brief as pos- sible, was at oot crushed by the king rising and saying: “You must be kind enough to say tho rest to M. Guillaume” (the court fool). times played. su important” patt--sorereigas imes pI an inj t part—soi stateoton, courtionn, scholurs and all others of of titiering epcech to pain els cade, ‘A good of flattering « to gain their en instance is the following: An English noble- man who, after the manner of his bad married a beautiful actress, once applied ‘with much dignity in the green room to Mr. Sheridan for the arrears of her salary and vowed that he would not stir till they were paid. “My dear lord,” said the impecunions », this is too bad; you have taken from us the brightest jewel in’ the world, and you uarrel with us for the little dust she has left ind her. cured the attention of the street :ailway official she indignantly stated her case. “As T understand it, madam,” he said when she had finished, “‘you were standing on the corner when the street car came along.” “Yes, sir; I was waiting for it” “But rivpete og all i by. “It didn't even slow up. It went right by.” “Did the driver seo you?” “Certainly he did. He looked straight at me.” “and of course you signaled him to stop." “Si him to. step?" abe exciaimed. “Signaled “Why, wasn’t I standing on the corner?” ee 1 — . “Was it necessary for me to wave my parasol and shout at him?” - “Not at all, but you see—” “Do I look like a woman who stands ona street corner for amusement?” “No, indeed, but stops on acorner for a moment to wait for a car to A FRAMEWORK FOR A ROMANCE A Strange Story of the Woman Hermit on the Other Side of the Potomac. oO A LONELY BIT OF PINE-PRINGED Toad just across the Potomac and not far from the city thore stands rade apology for s house, mere frame loan-to, that at first Sight seems deserted. Closor investigation, however, is always challenged by a gaunt pack of half a dozen dogs, and this usually brings ont their owner, « woman looking scarcely lese wild, who eyes all visitors, especially men, with sullen distrust, On her story hangs the tale, one of those sorry tales of every-day life that carries «dull ache with it and makes us wonder that some people should still care te live. It seems that years ago this victim of eirenm- stances was living happily—that is to say, at least like the rest of the world, perhaps even @ little better, and envied by, may be, those leas fortunate. In a quarrel with which she had nothing to do her husband killed aman. Ua- fortunately, she was a witness of the deed, and, whatever © been her personal feelit she refused to shield the prin- +r evidence that her hus # prison. ‘The man vowea vengeance on ber and all others wh ada hand in his conviction end swore to kill her on sight after his release. As the vears passed on the fear of his threat grew upon her and she moved from place to place im hopes of throwing him off the trail. Finally the thought heunted her to the extent of driving her from society, and as the time for the expiration of his sentence drew near she took to the woods, and now lives in her lonely cabin with a few chickensand a pack of vicious dogs for pets and compantons. She goes armed, it ix aid, and if the would- be murderer should succecd in tracking ber down there is a serious question whether he would be the victor or the victim. Her present nome is of course assumed and people living within a mile of her for the past year or more have not yet learned her realone. She is good enough neighbor, neither lending mn: borrowing, but not cuitivating acquaitances, The negroes, of course, fear her a# a voudoo n eccount of her strange mode of life, and strange tales are told by them of “"pearences”™ that haunt the lonely clearing. None of them for love or money will pass the place after dark, And its name is a potent spell whereby to con- trol unruly pickuninnies. So she lives, hiding from the fate which will Soon be secking her, but if it takes her un aware it will be more than any otuer visitor im that region has yet been able to do, event ‘HOW MANY CAKDS An Incident of Low Lite Towa, You sarr an Idaho Mining “Pop?” A little boy stood beside a gambling table long ago inan Idaho mining town and ad- dressed this trembling word to one of the play- says a writer in the Detroit Free Presa, ‘The fether was a rough man with great, sinewy hands, agrizzled face and thin, merci- es—how vicious and utterly lost t thet flashed from their reddish balla! ¥- pop, when you goin’ home?” Aguin the timid voice came to the rough man and he laid down his cards deliberately and turned around. The boy knew the light that blazed from those eyes only too well, and he drew back and huddled himself together im but mute appeal for mercy. 's that to a young whelp? Git ont o' here, now, an’ don't you waste a minit or Til be the death'o’ you. Are you goin?” Slowly, sadly, the little fellow turned and walked to the saloon door. Then he paused to look back, and found those vicious red eyes still fixed upon him, and the voice came to his ears iat you stoppin’ far? Git!" And gulping down s sob that was in his thr ich the door. For another hour the players silently played their cards, and the rough man said as be took the pack in his hance: But before Pete could reply there came the quivering words: “Pop, hain't you mos’ done?” The rough man cried out an oath and turned. He did not say a word, but he drew back his fist to strike the thivering ebild. lke Baker!” cried Pete, leaning across the table and catching the raised arm; “don"t you hit “ira.” ‘There was devilishnoss in the red eyes, and | i be struck it would have been « blow to Fora moment notasound was beard, and then came the noise of a scuffe from an ad- joining table. “Ole Copper is havin’ it out with Big Jerry,” volunteerec a bretander. A moment later a pistol shot was heard—one shot was all—a shot that laid the bttle boy with trembling voice low on the ealoon floor. A higher power bad made of Big Jerry an instra- ment in consumumating a merciful deed. “Good God, Ike,” cried Pete, “Big Jerry bas killed yer boy! Not the quiver of a muscle, not a shadow of | expression crossed the rough man’s stolid face. He cast one glance of his vicious red eye toward the little, lifeless heap on the floor, then draw- ing a revolver he turned itupon Dig Jerry and shot him dead where be wos standing. “blood for biood,” he muttered, catching up the pack once more with his sinewy hands. “How many cards did yousay, Pete?” Knew How To Manage Children. From the Chicago Tribune, ‘She said that she was utterly worn out when he asked her how she was feeling; that that boy was enough to drive a saint distracted and that | she didn’t know what she could do to make him obey. He said that the boy was not quite three years cld and ought to be easily managed. It was his opinion that she had not sufficient firm- nest, that she gave in too easily when the boy began to ery. Aud then and there he undertook to give her a lesson in the handling of childre: Wille was in bis high chair et table and Willie wanted something. Wallie was in- formed that he could not have it and Willie began to yell. The father immediately be- came stern vop that, Willie,” be said sharply, but Willie did. not stop. sop that or you'll have to leave the table!’ he exclaimed. Still Willie did not iow, I me you would give in,” he to his wife, “but that isn't my way. We'll figut it right ont on this tine, and the next tume I speak he'll know that I mean business. She said nothing, and he got up, took Wille out of bis high chair, and put him down on the fi When you stop crying,” he said, severely, “Tl put you back in your chair.” But Willie kept right on; in fact be yelled louder than ever. “Willie,” said bis father at Inst, “if you don't stop that you'll have to leave the room. I sup- pose — think that's cruel, Jane,” be added, “but it we fight it out now we'll haveno further trouble. It's the only way creaming Wile inte be Wi ogc hen” ot Men ay It was five or ten minutes later that he ocked: eet suppose the boy will make himself ‘erying?” “Do sick by Bie She shook her He stood it for « few minutes longer, and then be gave in. he o; door and brought the boy back- « ps you are heartless casugh tot youn son ery himself into a fit. vo Perhaps you ing, Hash, Willie, ive al eght mowbet Tom Duiit one different plan, Mrs Drinker, on am go by before she crosses thestreet. Sometimes ifferent plan—shut uf she i simply trying to decide where ahe will go | “puts live hr ee “ira Brinker!” “Yes, but your driver, sir, ought to——” 4 js know—_" {_ktow, Y'know,” be interrupted. “We have He pat Wiltc down on"ier lap, grabbed his pose Ay a oe oe a oe bat, and started oat, and as he was cloang the Money, We have two’ on the line, but we | Font door be heard her call couldn't get more.” What are you talking about, siz?” she asked “Mind readers, madam; mind readers. This man never claimed to be one, so I don't know ‘that I can——” But she was regen emda me man ever saw, driver to stop when the wats seer. ‘The Cause of It. From the Paris Geulois. Boirean met Mme. Calino recently while she was out walking with her little boy. “Yes, M. Boirean; he's my son.” “I wouldn’t think so, for he don't resemble bit” about thet You eee he’s my son by my husband.” A general strike of ail the eab drivers of odes 9 ‘Bome has taken place