Evening Star Newspaper, January 30, 1892, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D.C. SATURDAY. JANUARY 80, 1892—SIXTEEN PAGES. THE GHOST OF CHATEAU SAINT-GERY; T, CAN A BRAVE MAN BE AFRAID? WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY GUY DE MAUPAUSSANT. fore. —The first two chapters of this story are the fanceration in Jess maniac whe wrote tt ‘from: his towiedan of aut intended that the cunciusion of the be} CHAPTER I. WAS NEAR MID- night. Therebad been a whist party at the fine old residence of the Marquis de Ia Tour- Samuel, four tables, butallsave twoof the guests had taken their | leave of their aged host. | These were an army er and a civil serv- ice man, both intimate friends, and the mar- inst their “Draw yoar chairs up and lead the way to the door.” _ he said: “I have some deliciousCamembertand | The man seemed to be laboring under some L order a bottie of that rare old Amontil- | dreadful anaicty, but I took but little note of ies) a ype ga ‘ng | Ris manner. I was well armed and kept an eye lido to be opened. ‘Thgre is something | His manner. I wus well armed and Kept n noctounly ating about the | cor ne pincked up courage to mal ht to me, and, tobe honest with | tempt to stay my progress, but this imperti- care to be left alone at that hour. m afrai “Afracd, marqy hed the army officer. “LT ean't be lon't know the m ke the neture of althy man is may be ab, that's ing of the wi ser ail you choose,” replicd the quis in bis genial w at I tell you I'm ai.” The army officer drew one or two deep puffs at bis cig Ith solemn silence which bad se e group by saying: “Let me r is one of the most fright: s sensation as if the very soul were undergoing decomposi- tion. It is a tert brain, of the the very r attack nor when facing it in fact, in the face of any death, nor, own peril; but i t it might occur nees, under cer- , when the risk is under extrao: tain myste: vague and Lapprehend, s tion of the fan common peopl believes in ghosts and who fr ght 5 nce to its full extent such a de: the firm earth seemed to melt beneath my feet to a single foothold and mr very soul to go to pieces and to leave me to topple over into the a f eternal night.” my dear marquis,” said y friend,” continued theart I'm no coward. chances of and been left for dead by ass condemned to be han t in South America and on ai 2 was thrown over- board on time I gave shrink. es eit is striking ve it, I never bear a clock striking that hour that there doesn’t fash through my mind a remembrance Of that night, althoagh it was more than forty years ago. dying day I shall never quite free myself from the shock. And yet that terrible sensation lasted onty a. few brief minutes, but so intense was the fear I suffered that I have never been able to rid my soul of itseffect. Any sudden sou: the dead of night, any white figure dimly seen in the dark, makes | almost instinctively my band clutched my me start. Tobe perle suest with you, | Saber belt. Had I not done sol should have Tm afraid of thi When a man’ bas | dashed like a coward out of that dimly lighted Passed his seve me he can af- ford to be fra efor a man| A tall woman wearing a traveling gown of of that ¢ of some | white gossamer, with angel sleeves, her face fantastic er be real and | whiter than her rainment, was standing behind tangible and I will meet it just as calmly as ever. ‘To such a cogree did this adventure dis- tarb the serenity of my existence, co profound, so mysterious was the influence which it had upon me, that from that day to this I havo never spoken of it toa living soul I stored away the seeret in those depths of memory in which we hide painful secrets, or secrets in- volving shame or dishonor, together with all the unspeakable weaknesses of our existence. It was in 1527, 1m the month of July, and my was stationed at Kouen. One day, for a walk on the quay, [meta man e was familiar to me, and yet E could not exactly place him. Instinctively I came to a halt, and as i did so he stepped forward and took me by the hand. It was Saint-Gery, a school friend whom 1 had not seen for ten ears. Asa boy he had been extremely plain king: a¥ aman he was repulsive. With the squatty figure of a cut-down Hercules, a neck of extraordinary thickness and a face reddened With serofulous taint, Saint-Gery was not a maa for your soul to go out unio. Although We were of the same age, he now looked ten Years my senior. His hair was prematurely gray and his whole manner denoted a mental Unrest bordermg almost upon insanity Gery was the las: of his race. membered that, and Saint- I suddenly re- iso the fact thathe owned + out from Rouen. In a violent manner he informed dhis chateau only afew and that it was his itagain. I couldn't him concerning this There wasa something 8 intensely displeasing to onfess tha® this very re- bring myself to strange determ about the maz th me, and yet I m pulsivencss some “Thank heaven abraptly, “for Mave a 1t is to ride out to papers for es the key to | rm 1 want you to go this ve ive you a fow lines to of the plac: My first im Was to excure myseif, but | on second th my fonduess ‘or Life was intolerably at the post would bea pleasant break in the monotony. was only ten or tweive muics out to the old chateaa. “All I would have to do wa back with me two ; third package tied with red tape and bearin, hie name, al ev in the top drawer to the right, ‘it is hardly necessary for me to tell you,” he added. “that you must paperseven supcrticia re, led ¥, but Saint-Gery enormous palm on my shoulder and muttered out: “Pardon me, I didn't know what I was say- ing—aay mind wae waudering—I trust you im- phe 4 Lhaif repented of my acceptance as I fixed my eyes upoa that almost ogre-like counte- hanes, but it was too late now. Soniething detained me at the post and it Was not until nearly sunset that I rode out of the town. ‘Ihe weather was superb and 1 was im the best of spirts as [skirted the fields at un easy lope. listening to the twittering of birds and the measured clank of my saber against my boot. Then the road eutered a forest aud I pulled my horse u» toa walk. At times the brazehes swept my check. The bircheu odor carried me back to my child- bold, and 1 broke off a twig and began to chew ite fragrant bark. Ioitered by te way and Gave myself over to an unaccountable feeling Of content with tumuttuoas upseiling of @ sort of intoxication «din sodoing I low dat I didn’t care. I was rather in magniticent my way. glad of it, for the moon rose failuess and it occurred to me that with the Bightingaie singing in the bosky undergrowths Ishouid have agelicious canter back to the Rear to the Saint-Gery estate 1 itary rider whom from some- in the conversation I recog- Bized to be Kozer, the man in charge of the lace, and without making myself or my errand nown to him I strove todraw him into con- Versation couceruimg Saint-Gery's gemarkable absndonmentof sucha fixe oid Bic. but the man was so politic a servitor aud soguarded ‘bt my love of the mysterious, | in his repiies that I had only my trouble for my ins. Pat was now 10 o'clock and =z Jong ride had sharpened my appetite tremendously. At my invitation Roger consented to join me with a glass of wine at the roadside inn, although he excused himself from eating anything. The table had been set on the veranda, and the night was so beautiful that we sat there smoking and chatting until after 11. Suddenly, as I drew Saint-Gery's letter out of my it, to my amazement I noticed that be had sealed it, I was so surprised and irritated that I was half inclined to mount my horse and return to Rouen without the letters, but it occurred to me that such a course would not be in the best of taste. Then again perhaps Saint-Gery might have sealed the lettet in @ moment of absent mindedness. I made an excuse to walk toward the park, and as we came in sight of the old chateau it was quite light enough to see that the place was sadly run down, the paths over- grown, the hedges neglected, the garden filled with weeds. Turning to Roger I placed Saint- Gery’s letter in bis hand. He gave a sudden start, but as quickly recovered himself and “Well, sir, what do you wis! out, as he reappeared at the door a moment afte ‘ou ought to know,” said I rather sharply. “I suppose you have read your master’s orders. Idesire to go inside the chateau. Get me a lamp at once.” Hie caught his breath and his lips fell apart. “Into the chateau,” he repeated, “into his room?” ~ “Well,” I called out angrily, for I was now thoroughly out of patience, “do you presume to question me?” “Ob, no—no, sir,” he almost gasped, “only it is impossible. ‘Ihe place is locked, doubly locked and barred—I'm powerless to act— Monsieur has the keys.” aa “You are wrong. I have them,” said I calmly, but firmly. “Get me a lamp at once ne position on his part now roiled me to such an-extent that, taking the lamp out of the hands, I pushed him violently aside. He ered back, utterly limp and helpless, his ined, Dianched with auger. I ¥ the discovered that I had entered the house ich i now traversed, then two small living apartments in the nature of a servants’ ‘This brought me into the main hallway idly as I could—for the lamp was of ronze and extremely heavy, I madi the grand stairease of the chatea ulty in recognizing the door which Saint- had described to me. I unlocked it as calmly as if it were the door of my quarters at Rouen, pushed it open, walked in and set the lamp cn the heavy oak ‘center table, As I did so the clock in the neighboring chapel struck tL sht, bat Iscarcely noted it sterious sweetness of the save to enjoy the 1 toues as they broke the midnightstillness of the poe The room was large and square and had at close and musty odor of an unused an odor strangely like that which you so often notice inadeath chamber. In o1 er stood a large mahogany bedstead, carved and surmounted with a canopy. ‘The heavy silk curtains were drawn aside, dis- closing inattress and pillows, but no sheets. There was anevident impress of a human figure upon the side away from the wall. th Tcould see at the room was more or less in disorder and there was one door opening, as I imagine, ly first thought was to throw open a win- w and let the cool, fresh night air into the to chase out its smell of mold and must, 0 rusted were the fastenings that, although i made use of my saber as @ lever, I couldn't start them. Atier several attempts I gave it up and sat down on a sofa in front of the writing desk with the intention of hurrying through the task assigned me and of making my ese: Everything was as Saint-Gery bad deseril to me, and in a moment or so I had found all but the last of the three packages indicated, when I thought I heard or rather felt the rustie of a woman's skirts behind me, but I was too busy to pay any attention to it. In fact, it half occurred to me that the breeze had blown in from the hallway and stirred a bit of paper on the tloor or caused the hangings to give forth a rustling sound. But in © moment the same sound again caught my ear and this time itsent a disagreeable crawling feeling over my It seemed so silly to me to take any note of such a thing that my seif-respeet would not allow me to iook around. Thad now come upon the third of the pack- ages which Saint-Gery had commissioned me to obtain for him and had just thrust it into my pocket when a deep, long-drawn sigh, which naught but human lips could have sent forth, esex: almost inst my cheek. With oue wild spring I landed several feet away and room. the sofa with eyes that secmed iighted with un- earthly glow fixed sadly and tenderly upon me. Over her shoulders, reaching almost to her feet, hung @ wonderiul growth of hair, cover- ing ker, caveloping her iike a living veil. By the lamp’s light, as she raised her hand and put back these giorious tresses, I couldsee that they bad a golden sheen which gave her the appear ance of being Literally wrapped in a mysterious fire that glowed without consuming. She was wonderfully but fearfully beautiful and un- earthly. Iwas stricken with such a tremor that my body swayed and ouly by the greatest effort could Isave myself from pitching over backward. Nobody, unless he has been stricken by it, can have any idea of this awful and senscless terror. You feel your soul slipping escaping vapor. Your heart comes dead standstill. Your whole body grows inert and limp and like an empty tenement. Ite walls seem ready to collapse upon the void. Ob, no, I didn’t believe in ghosts. I knew, like all the rest of you, that the dead never come from their graves to walk the cold, damp earth again, Lut yet this senseless fear of them came upon me ‘nevertheless. This tair apparition was ideous to me and in those few instante I suffered. oh, I suffered more of irresistible ny, more of afefuldread of the supernatural my whole life put together. CHAPTER IL If some sound had not come from the appa- tition, if that terrible silence had not been broken by some earthly manifestation, by a smile, by a word, or even by # natural look, I think I ‘should Have died then and there; but she spoke, the spoke in tones so intensely sad and sweet that the words sent a thrill through every nerve in my body. It would be dissimu- lation for me to say that I now succeeded in | collecting my thoughts, in reassuming my powers of reason. No, I stood there be- Wildered, not knowing which way to turn; nevertheless, that secret pride in my own per- sonality, that natural conceit enabled me with teflort to restrain myself from any pitia- Die exhibition. Butit was a pose, however; it was not honest. I knew t, and she, too, who- ever she was, woman or phantom, was doubt- less coascious of it, All this came to me later, jor my word for it, while the apparition faced me, 1 had thouguts for nothing. Fear had complete possession of me. ‘Tue apparition spoke. “Ob, sir, you can do me a great service. i tried to reply, but my tongue, my lips re- Yused to do their work. “A low Drosthing eee alone came from my parched and aching throat, Asain the lips of the apparition moved. “Wall you? You have the power to save me, to cure me. Iam suffering frightfully, ob; so frightfully!” Asshe uttered these words in a tone too weird and instrumental to be human she let herseif drop gently and slowly into » sitting position on the sofa, “Wail you?” again came from those pale, thin, blue lips. i tried to say “Yes,” but nothing save alow groan, which moans relief from pain, as I Pre: ceeded with my work. Separating that lux- uriant growth into several parts I took up each in turn and combed it to its full length. Then gathering them all together I began to braid them, and as my fingers lost more and more the stiffness which fear had caused I went faster to the end. She bowed her head and con- tinued to give forth those softened groans which seemed almost like the purring of a cat. Suddenly she murmured a word of thanks, and reaching out quickly took the comb from my hand and darted out of the room, disap- pearing in the darkness of the haif-opened door, more like a specter than ever. ‘The moment I found myself alone there came upon me that dazed feeling so common to any one escaping from the chains of some dreadful nightmare. The spell was broken; all sense of fear had vanished and I could feel the blood tingling back into my veins again. I was en- raged at my own weakness. I ielt like a man who has been tricked and gulled by mischief loving friends. I determined to follow the midnight visitant, and sprang after her, but the door waslocked. I threw myself against it with @ furious onslaught. It held firmly, however. Just then my horse, which I had tied at the porte cochere, gave a long, loud neigh of impatience. It startled me strangely, for it seemed to be the callof a friend to hasten out of the chateau, where my foolhardiness might cost mo my life. I obeyed, and dashing down the stairway at the risk of breaking my neck I groped my way outdoor and sprang into the saddle. The faithful animal seemed over- joyed to have me on his back again, and was off with a bound. How long we took ‘to reach Rouen Idon’t know. Not long, for the animal kept upa wild pace. My orderly was waiting for me, andI think he muttered something about a hard ride as I turned away. Ineed hardly tell you that there was not mach sleep for me that night. At times it seemed to me as if I had merely fallen asleep in my easy chair, for I had not undressed, and dreamed it all. But no; [ could feel one pack- age of Saint-Gery’s letters, which I had thrust into'my breast pocket, pressing against my body. But, more than this, there, twisted round the buttons of my coat and entangled in the metal lace, were several long silken hairs of a golden tinge. They were from theliead of the beantiful ghost of Castle Saint-Gery. There could be no mistake about it. They had been detached in the combing and had fastened themselves to me in the manner indicated. There was no dream about it. It was solid, terrible, awful reality. Carefully unwinding these hairs I rolled them up and put them away in an envelope. The moment I had swallowed a little break- fast I set out to find Saint-Gery to give him his letters, to tell him of my strange adventure in the old chateau and to ask him for an explana- tion. Judge of my surprise, nay, my amaze- ment, to find that he had abandoned his lodg- ings late the night before. Where had he gone? No one knew; no one seemed to know anything about him. I appealed to the police, but he could not be found in Rouen. The mystery was deoper than ever and again I was half inclined to think that some mischief-loving friend had been playing a trick upon me. But there were the letiors, three packages, just as I had taken them from the Saint-Gery writing desk, and there were the hairs found clinging to the but- tons and gold lace of my coat, and my orderly, too, assured. me with a smile that I had gal- loped madly up to the garrison a little after 1 o'clock, my horse being covered with foam. It had certainly been a ten-mile gallop, 80 my or- derly thought. It took a week or so for me to recover my habitual composure of body and mind, and, happily for me, my regim@™™ was shortly after this ordered to Algiers. W distrusted itoger, and therefore made up my mind that I would not turn the letiers over to him, but I wrote him a few lines telling him of my sadden de- parture from Kouen and asking him to write to Suint-Gery and say that I would hold the let- ters subject to his order, but would in no case deliver them up to any one elseexcept upon his written authorization. Iwas absent from France for several years. Now and then, in ramaging through my good and chattels, I would come upon Saint-Gery’ letters, and let me assure you, my friends, that asight of them was always quite enough to send ® cold shiver down my back. Upon my return from Algiers my health was so impaired by African fever that J determined to resign from the army and make a tour through the new world. For many years my b ad yearned for its vast rivers, its end- lees prairies and pampas and its grand moun- tain chains—the Rockies and Andes—and it was while I was getting ready for this extended trip that I again came upon the Saint-Gery letters while packing away some books and souvenirs that I wished to leave in Paris. Ly a strange coincidence that very day I met another college chum, who informed me that Saint- Gery was dead, that he had disappeared most mysteriously from Rouen and that after the lupse of several years the authorities had acci- dentally come upon proof which convinced them that he had committed suicide. ‘This piece of news impressed me deeply, and as I walked back to my apartments the scenes of that terrible night of suffering came up to me in strange relief. I recollected everything, to the smallest detail, although it was nearly ten years siuce it had happened, and I was seized with an irresistible inclination to open the packages and read the letters. “What harm?” thought I. “Saint-Gery was the last of his race. There is no one to whom I can ever deliver them. Either I must de- stroy them without reading them, for in case of my death the letters would fall into other hands and might blacken hia memory by mak- ing him out a self-confessed murderer, or Imay read them before destroying them, and thus possibly clear up the awful mystery hanging about Chateau Saint-Gery. I was sure of my wer to keep any terrible secret that might be isclosed by the letters. I deliberated for several hours, working my- self up into such astate of mind that every rustle of the window curtains, every creak of the floor, every crackle ot the fire, made me start like a hunted criminal at the sound of a hand on the door knob. At last I summoned up resolution enough to break the seals and as I did so the bell in a neighboring church tower rang out the hour of midnight. It was another strange coincidence, and as I listened to the solemn tones my flesh began to creep, my hair stiffened, a coid sweat beaded my fore- head, the old feat had come back upon me! I was suffering the keenest torture. Gradually the fit passed off and I was able to proceed with the reading of the letters. They were one and all love letters addressed by Saint-Gery to “Aurore.” ‘They were wildly, almost tempest- uously, passionate, and more thanever was I con- winced! Saat Saint-Gery'steason hadalways been more or less unfixed. In every letter there was some reference to Aurore’s glorious head of hair, and I now felt sure that I had seen not Aurore herself, but her spirit; that she had been foully murdered by Saint-Gery in an ex- cess of rage or jealousy. Upon unsealing the package [found a heavy tress of goiden hair at least five feet in length. It had been cut from Aurore’s head by Saint-Gery, for that fact was noted in his handwriting. giving even the hour,-day ani date. A comparison with it of the fow hairs that had clung to the buttons and gold lace of my coat on that fearful night seemed to confirm one of my strongest belicts that the spirits of the dead under certain con- ditions have the power of :aterialization when they walk the earth. Well, yoa will not be surprised when I tell you that I didn’t destroy those letters, that an intense desire to ferret out this mystery seized upon me, aud that I firmlygesolved upon my return from the new world to set about the task, and if possible to learn the exact fate of the beautiful Aurore. You know what happened. In Kio I met a lady, loved her, married her and settled down there. It was twenty years beforeI was destined to see France again. Iwas thenan old msn, not in very robust health—a childless widower. I had come home to die, but the sight of old friends and native land gave mea new lease of life, and it seemed to meas 1 began life all over again. I was passionately fond of hunting, fe autuma about ten are ago while so eng@¥ed in the northeast of nce I was overtaken by a terrific storm. I urged my guide to find a shelter as speedily as ibie. He assured me that there was not a roof within four miles of us, and scarcely were the words out of his mouth before I caught sight of what seemed to me to be a charcoal burner’s cot on the edge of the forest, about hissing sound gecayed me. "Twas all 1 was capable of, aud so I bowed my head in sign of acquiescence With this she drew out from under the folds of ber white gown « large-toothed tortoise | shell comb, and, holding it out .to whis- | pered: “Comb my hair, oh. comb my hair! It wall cure me, it will stop this pain, it’s the only way. Look at my head. See how I am suffer- ing. “It will drag me down to death.” As she sat there her wonderful head of hair fell around her like an enveloping cloud, its edges resting upon the floor. Why did I’ at- tempt to obey? Why did I reach out a tremu- Jous hand for that comb and why did I take hold of those thick strands of hair, the touch of which sent shivers of intense coldness through my hands and arms as if I wore toying with strings of serpents? I cannot tell you, my friends, but believe me when { say that that sensation of cold is here yet, and that I can feel itnow. A horrible fascination came upon me as I set to work. Cold and heat by turns strack me deep in the very vitals, I was caressing the dead, toying with’ hair cold and dank from the tomb. ‘Ob, it was dreadfal, and yet it was heavenly. Gradually my strength came to an adept in the use of a comb, for I was wont to comb and braid my mane. I couldn'tsee whether an ex; comfort had stolen over that white could hear that low breathing, I was half a mile distant. “Nay, my lord, not there,” exclaimed the man with a gosturo of dread.” “It might mean death to us both! “Death to us both?” I echoed. “Yes,” returned the man; “the cot is inhab- ited by s madman, or one very pearly so.” Bat the storm was now increasing in fury, and, madman or no madman, I was determined Sane respons pastes tae Soe cheek forth no response, I p joor the center of the room stood a man of low stature, with bairand long, matted beard white ‘as the driven snow. \Aiaglance the man’s eyes me whom cor uy was Gaint-Gery. ‘There could be no misteki him. Each of his hands grasped o pistol he burst out fariously: “Halt! Another step and I'll shoot you both down, you infamous minions of the law.’ I know what you've come for—to arrest me for murder; ani you'ro right, too, but I'm resolved tosell my life dearly: yes, dearly, just for the pleasure of killing. “Ha, ha, ha!” “Nay, sir, you mistake us entirely,” I cried out ina friendly way. “We are not oficers, bat travelers who crave the shelter of your roof. We will do you no harm.” In an instant his fury left him and be held out his hand to me. But my words words made no impress upon his disordered mind. He was hopelessly in- sane. Hopelessly? And yet why? bt I as I sat gazing upon the awfal mental and physi- cal wreck before me. If I could but de him, little as I believed it myself, that Aurore still lived, that I had scen her, touched her, talked with her in the old chateau near Rouen, possibly I might be able to call his wandering Feason back again. My mind was made up at once. As I contemplated remaining in that region as long as the hunting season lasted I would send to Paris for the threo packages and doliver them to him. The sight of these letters, the touch of Aurore’s beautiful hair, together with the sound of my voice, might gradually make Saint-Gery’s reason whole again. Alas! Man proposes, but God disposes. I carried out my program to the letter. I covertly laid tho three packages on Saint-Gery’s table one even- ing and then left him alone with those remind- ers of other days. The next morning I found the door locked. We burst it open. ‘There sat Saint-Gery at the table with his head supported on one hand and his eyes apparently riveted upon something held in the other. “Saint-Gery, old friend, how are you today?” Tcalled cheertiy, as I lid’ my hand on his shoul- er. Ho was dead. He had died sitting there with his eyes fixed upon the strand of Aurore’s CHAPTER IL But Saint-Gery's death had accomplished one thing, atany rate. Ithad furnished me with confirmation strong as Holy Writ that he had murdered Auroreand that it washer materialized spirit whom I had met in the old castle, whose icy cold hair I had combed, whose low purring of relief I had listened to as I went about the awful task of playing hair dresser to the dead. Putting a speedy end to my sport in the woods T'hastened to Rouen, resolved to seek out Roger, if he were still alive, and, with the roof I had, extort a confession from him. @ old chateau had been sold for taxes and had passed into the hands of a wealthy manu- facturer, who had completely transformed the place, destroying its ancient carvings, panel- ings and hangings and replacing them with tapestries. I didn't know the property. It was utterly shorn of its beauty. It made me heavy hearted to gaze upon it, so repulsively fresh and new looking was the renovated cas- | tle and its garish and pretentious surroundings. | But, thank heaven, Roger was still alive! I came upon him almost like one from the dead, and when he had listened to the account of my finding Saint-Gory and of his strange death, with the strand of Aurore’s hair clutched in hi grasp, the aged servitor wept bitterly. “Saint-Gery,” ith a si very childhood possessed of a ungovernable temper, closely bordering upon a disordered intellect.’ He had fallen madly in Jove with the daughter of one of his tenants, Aurore, as beautiful a creature asever breathed, but the girl feared him—nay, almost loathed him, I think, at times: and yet he exercised a wonderful power over her, and when her father died and she was left alone in the world Saint- Gery lured her to this old chateau with a prom- ise of marriage. For a year or so their app ness seemed to be complete, but gradually Aurore grew weary of the long. gloomy corri- dors and vast, dismal chambers, with the ro- pulsive-looking Saint-Gery for’ jailor, and made several attempts to escape. Failing in this she seemed to become desperate and at dif- ferent times lured an old lover of hers to the castle. I knew of this, but had not the heart to tell Saint-Gery of it Indeed, I feared that he might kill her in a fit of rage if it should come to his eara. One day, how- ever, returning unexpectedly, he surprised the young man in Aurore’s company. She was re- clining on a sofa and he kneeling beside her, as had been his custom when sho was a child in her father’s home, was combing and braid- ing her wonderful hair. Saint-Gery fell upon the young man like an infuriated demon, and would certainly have killed him if I had not pronidentially been in the chateau and rescued im from my master’s clutches. Now Saint- Gery’s demeanor underwent astill more sinister change. He became moody, silent and sullen. It was only too plain to me that he was plot- ting some terrible revenge upon Aurore. ‘Ono day all the demons enchained in his soul broke loose at the sume instant. Seizing the terrified Aurore by the hair he dragged her—now so paralyzed with fear as to be unable to utter a shriek or even a groan—to the lowest chamber of the ancient donjon-keep, and there with hideous crueltv he first bound her hand and foot, and then, having securely woven the long thick strands of her hair into an iron ring in the wall, {ther to starve. Ten days after, when he imagined that his devilish work had effected ite pBrpose, he suddenly informed me of his in- at to leave the castle and never again to cross its threshold. I paid little heed to bis wild words and let him go without a syllable of diseent. I had had my eye upon him all along. Fortunately there was a secret underground passage leading to this dungon prison known only to me. Its existence had been made known to me by my father. Through this I visited Aurore every night with food and drink, impressing upon her mind the necessity of IN OLD WASHINGTON. What the National Capital Was Like Years Ago. A HARD ROAD TO TRAVEL. Legislating Under Dificulties—In the O14 House of Representatives—At the Mercy of the Wind and Rain—An Interesting Letter by an Unknown Writer—Notes of the Times. ‘Written for The Eveninz Star. N MAKING EX- tractsfrom the old let- ters, scraps of which I put before your readers recently, I have passed by the purely political matters touched apon, as well the interna- tional difficulties and affairs like Burr's con- spiracy—all were spread upon the pages of hie- tory—and have picked \* out such bits of inci- dent and description as may help to give an idea of the old Washington. It 1s hard for us now, with our present city about us, to imagine the old town and how hard it was for a Congressman to get to it and what a queer place he and his fellows had to meet in after they reached it, The water and land stages were still flourish- ing when my grandfather started from Phil- adelphia to attend the session of 1806. There was no hurry. On his arrival he wrote: “December 1, 1806.—I arrived last evening.after ® passage much less disagreeable than I had reason to expect. Before we got to New Castle the wind totally ceased and we were obliged to tow down for about four miles. We left New Castle at a quarter before 6 and arrived at Court House Point at about 12 at night. We left Court House Point at 1 aud landed at Baltimore on Saturday about 1 o'clock in the afternoon. * * * I left Baltimore at half- after 7 yesterday and arrived about 5 in the evening. “Both houses have formed a quorum and the President will send his message tomorrow at 12 o'clock. Iam at present going to look for lodgings.” Street carsand herdics were unknown and the walking was not good. “December 11, 1806. * © We have had an almost continual succession of stormy and dis- agreeable weather. It is now blowing strong from the northeast, with a violent sleet. It is, of course, not very agreeable to be obliged to trot through such weather about three-quarters of a mile.” It was not much of a town that we had for our capital and not much of a building for the houses of Congress to sit in. “December 14, 1806.—We have again a visit from the all-cheering rays of the sun. The weather is fair and serene and there are no traces of the Inte storm excepting the ground being covered with frozen snow. ‘The uniform whiteness adds tu the monotonous appearance of this place, and the only novelty is the small number of sleighs which glide past us at inter- val THE ROOF LEAKED. “During the falling of the snow and sleet the ceiling of the chamber in which we sit leaked in such « manner that we beeame much alarmed for the safety of our heads. The plastering is 40 heavy and so ill put on that it seemed threat- ening to fall upon us every instant. Two years ago about a ton weight feil in the Senate cham- ber during the night and broke off the arm of the chair in which Gen. Jackson had been xit- ting, and last year a large quantity fell in the lobby leading to the place in which the House of Representatives is accustomed to assemble immediately after it bad adjourned. Had it failen half an hour sooner it would have per- haps kilied some of us. Tie remembrance of those circumstances induced the House to order an inspection and to have the ceiling secured from falling. It has been done and the minds of the most timid are quieted. “The manner in which it was effected was by boring holes through the plaster on each side of the joists and letting down ropes, by which boards have been raised up and fixed under the ceiling and fastened above the joists. This 4s saficiontly secure, but it gives the room a very awkward and grotesque appearance, as the ceiling is perfectly staped, Uist a board and then an interval of white plaster and then a board again. The room intended fer the Rep- resentatives will not be finished before next ‘The proceedings of the House show that Mr. simulating death in case Saint-Gery should enter the dungeon. This he did on the tenth day, and hearing the clank of the bolts Aurore obeyed my injuuction to the letter, rolled over on her face and lay stretched stark and stiff on the stone floor. Saint-Gery uttered a harsh breath of relief and turned away. After tho demon’s departure I made has convent in the neighborhood, but so unfixed was her mind by the terrible experiences she had gone through that she refused to obey. On different occasions the tenants caught sight of a white figure with long flowing hair seated at the window in the moonlight, and the chatean soon acquired the reputation of being haunted. At this period—it was about a yeur after Saint-Gery’s departure that you came for the papers—' “fiten it was not a beautifal specter.” I cried, in astonishment, “but Aurore herself in flesh and blood.” my lord,” added Roger, with a sad smile; ‘in flesh and blood, the beautiful Aurore herself, the ill-fated mistress of Chateau Saint Gery, who, by chance, wandered into the room while you were searching for the papers.” “One day.” continued Roger, “a curious ides flashed through my mind. It was that it I could only succeed in cutting off that glorious hoad of hair perchance Aurore might recover her reason completely. ‘This, my dear friends, Roger now proceeded to do.’ Having administered a sleeping potion to Aurore he sheared off her glorious tresses with a bold and pitiless hand while she slept, Rising tohis fect the marquis unlocked a panel closet and took out of ita silver casket, fromwhich he drew forth a long braid of golden hair made up of four strands, each alone quite thick enough to satisfy any ordi- nary daughter of Eve. * “These are the radiant trosses, gentlemen," said the Marquis de la Your-Samuel, solemnly, “which belonged to the beautiful ghost of Chateau Saint-Gery which I combed on that eventful night and which 1 weon would have made Lady Godiva hide her head in bitter envy.” ‘The two friends of the marquis drew near most reverently, felt the braid and caressed it, pressing it first to their cheeks and then to tueir lips. This done they both fixed inquir- ing eyes upon the marquis and as one man pronounced the words: “And Aurore?” “Roger's. experiment was completely success- ful,” replied their host. Shorn of her ill- stared glory, Anrore soon recovered ber reason and was easily persuaded to enter a religions house in another part of France, where, no doubt, she has long since fully atofed for’ her transgressions, if any she committed, by prayer, contrition and repentance. “Peace, Aurore, to thy bruised heart, if thou be living, and rest, eternal rest, to thy pure soul if thou art dead murmured the army officer reverentially, “Amen! Amen nded the two others, and then, 2s with one impulse, they stretched out their left hands and joined them in a triple grasp, while with their right they raised their glasses to their lips. War. ‘The day was loat and we were sent in gaara train, ‘And all the hight, aroeek douse and rai, land of ruin went. But halting once, and only then We turned aside tu let the corps Of ambuiance pass before, ‘That hauled a thousand wounded men. And leaning, drowsy and Upon my gun, 1 wonderes where ‘The comrade was I helped to bear ‘Slow reatward, wounded in the breast. ‘When Jo! I heard a fainting cry, ‘Aa wheels drew near and “The man in here with me has died; Ob, lift him out, oF I shall die:” “All right,” the one-armed driver said; ‘We leave them ail alco the Rea the deadi™ Wilhams (David R. of 8. C.) moved on Decem- ber 8 “that the Speaker of the House be au- thorized to cause immed::te measures to be taken for pulling down the plastering or other- wise securing the ceiling of the chamber in which the sessions of the House are now held.” On the 9th_ action on this resolution was sus- pended, tho Speaker having said that unless special order was taken he would cause the ceiling to be secured. We have seen above how adroitly this was done. A CHRISTMAS LETTER. Instead of writing about music at the Capitol on Christmas day he says: “December 25, 1806. * * * I continue to be very much employed. I_have so many committees to at- tend to that I am obliged in some cases to be guilty of an apparent delay. ‘This, however, is ‘unavoidable The records of Congress show that he was in demand for committee work. He was put on the waysand means committee immediately upon entering Congress for his tirst term and served on that during his three terms. Outside of the routine of government work there must have been very httle of interest or amusement going on. In this came letter, after two pages about Burr's conspiracy and the hope that his plans hed been completely destroyed, he says: “I have written you an un- interesting letter of politics and conspiracies, but I have nothing eise to write.” ANOTHER ACCIDENT AT THE CAPITOL. In February came acold snap and another accident at the Capitol, “February 7, 1807. * * © Last night was the coldest I have felt for a great while; the thermometer stood at 3 degrees at about half-atter 10 and between 3 and 4 degrees at a little after sunrise this morn- ing. Yesterday the wind blew so excessively hard it actually blew in a pane of glass in tho room in which the House of Representatives sit. Several members aro ill in consequence.” suppose he was not of the number, for he adds: “I am going to Georgetown to dine with Gem. Mason, and the carriage is waiting.” ‘The proceedings of Congress show that on February 6, while an amendment to the bill authorizing the issuing of debentures in cer- tain cases was being debated, “Mr. D. R. Will- iams had spokca some time in reply to Mr. J. Clay. when the glass of one of the windows of the Representative chamber was broken and biown into the room by the vivlence of the wind, and the members in that quarter were obliged to leave their seats. An attempt was made to secure the window by closing tho shut- ters, and they were blown into the room. Whereupon, in this crisis, on motion of Mr. B. Williams, the House at 20'clock adjourned.’ ¥ROM JOHN RANDOLPH. My worthy grandparent wrote to his wife al most daily, but it seems he did not always like to write to others. In June his intimate friend John Randolph wrote to him: “You asked me soearnestly at parting to write to you that my vanity suggested that yon would surely put sufficient value on my leiter to an- swer it; butas vanity often does (and always ought to do, youmay say,) mine has yielded nothing but vexation of spirit. But as ‘I ha no great relish for this bittor fruit, wholesome as tis said to be, I will toss it out of my win- on one of hia Lot grandfather, In one of tors my , grum- bling about the time wasted in Congress, writes: “Randolph says he never winds his ques- tion was asked then, as in our day, whether we had “a navel armament lor ty yurpose of national defense and protection?” ‘It was said by Mr. Elliott, in December, 1806, “ft is time, however, to think and talk of else besides our little navy; that armament which ‘more worl ave ealled a ilipeta z 7 any one what I have been about. * * * The British squadron, after they received the Presi- dent's proclamation, left Hampton Roads and are now anchored three miles within the capes. The position they have taken is such as will ren- der an attack with the gun boats too hazardons to be attempted. We are now manning the gun boa: tter they are manned should tho British return to the roads, or place themselves where they can be come a without risking too much, I will have honor of drawing the first blood. It is opinion that war is inovitable. Perbaps I think #0 because I wish it, but it appears to m orsible that those fellows would have dared to ave acted as they have unless authorized by their government. I do not think any event but the French giving the Russians a sound threshing wili Idispose the B. government to make us reparation for the inte indignity. In fact, [do not know what would be sufficient reparation. They cannot put heads and arms on again. If we havea war, and I can have but a tolerable chance with them (i despise vaunting), you shall feel no humility in conse- quence of’ your townsman’s being op to them. My friends may grieve at the issue, but it shall be a proud grief, by God! * © © The Chesapeake will be ready for ea in afew days. God grant { may be ordered out with a carte blanche to sink, burn and destroy. If I shall fail todo my duty, with- draw your friendship from me. “Believe me to be, with respect, “Your friend," Sreraex DrcaToR, 3.” It was Mr. Clay who moved in the House, some time before, the presentation of a sword to Decatur for burning the Philadelphia after her capture by the Tripolitans. A HANDY SET. His wife's father was a sea captain, and from him he had no doubt heard enough about mat- ters on the deep to lead him to take some in- terest in what concerned our navy. Old Capt. Ashmead bad commanded the Continental packets, Eagle and Mercury, and bad various jghis with British vessels.” On one occasion, while returning from St. Eustatia with a cargo of powder and instructions to run irom every- thing, so that he might save the powder rather thau burt anybody, he fought # British priva- teer brig of twelve guns for three days and four nights, beating her off with a loss of eleven men, and delivered his cargo to the American army at Charleston when it had only six rounds a man left. They were a hardy set, the sea captaii the old sailing vessel day. Mr. Clay may self have Lad a strain of the seaman in his make-up, for his great grandfather, Robert Ciay, was lost at sea while in command of the ship’ Triumph, although only twenty-nine years old, in 1716. It seems odd to read of « Tunisian envoy at the President's reception and of swords pre- ented for fighting I'ripolitans, but those north African pirates were a reality, as many @ poor wretch had reason to know. Ithink I cannot better close this article than by quoting a letter that incidentally mentions these corsuirs. ‘Thisletter wasaddressed to Miss Eliza Ashmead, Philadelphia, and was delivered tomy grandmother'ssister, that being her name: but the letter was not for her nor for her fam ily, nor was it from any member of her family. Efforts were made here aud in England to find out the writer or the persons mentioned, but without success, and to this day nothing has been discovered that throws any light on this Page of romance. Itisas strange as auy fic- tion. of A ROMANTIC TALE. of France, January 1, 1802.—After woes almost innumerable Iam once more permitted to inform you that I am in still in the land of the living and in tolerable health. Indeed, my dear sister, when I reflect on the manifold mis- eries that I have endured, [ am astonisned that Iam now alive and [ feel grateful for the good- ness of the Almighty—that God who regards alike the king and the scavenger—t exist. 1 hav i verge of eternity since wo parted. expect to have seen the light of auother day, but those days of despair are over and I will try to forget them if possible. “By an old acquaintance whom I met with at Tranquebar, I mean Mr. Tom Lavater, whom haps you may remember when we lived at ortsmouth, a school fellow of mine, I heard, oh, grief of grief, that a mother I loved better than my own soul had died; it was supposed my absence hastened her days. Born down, as I then was by sickness and accurzulated dis- tress, it certainly would have killed me but for you, my dear sister; your image stood con- stantly by me. I “saw you an orphan, poor and distressed, though lovely and virtuous, in need of a protector and a brother. I learned further from him.that Mr. Danton, the friend of our deceased father, had ad- ministered to what little remained of our once ample patrimony and had become your guardian, which Tam extremely glad to heaz. I’place implici; confidence in him asa man of honor anda gentleman. Asto what interests myself I am quite carcless, both as to prosperity and person. My feelings have become callous through long and repeated suf- ferings, but for you they are all alive, and may eternal damnation light on the devoted head of any person who but presumes to injure you, my dear Eliza, and may heaven's choicest blessings be showered on the friends who protect you and are the friends of the orphan. ‘I have conceived, my dear girl, on reflection, that you are not so badly off as I'at first sup- posed, as I believe what Lavater informed me (who could have no motive for telling me o falsehog, who interested himself for mo at a. time wi€n I lay languishing in prison, chained like a malefactor, though innocent, God knows; and yet it has been my imisfortune to be always deceived by the most consummate hypocrisy of those whom I believed to be my frieuds) that Mr. Danton had taken you into his family; that you had embarked with Mrs., Miss and young Danton to goto Philadeiphia in the United States of America to see their friends and for the benefit of Mrs. Danton's health; and that Mr. D. intended to follow as socn as he could settle his business. If this reaches you, which Lhope sincerely, though { confess I ‘am’ afraid it never will at the immense distance of near 3,000 leagues from the place of my nativity and from you, mydear girl; at a sight of this Mr. Danton will hold my ‘share of our mother’s property subject to your order—in other words, it is yours. “At the present time I am poor as poverty it- self, though if I can get to London I presume I shall do well enough. My ship and cargo was insured there for £20,000, which I have no doubt Ishall receive without difficulty, and when I get it my only wish will be to find you. It was the darling wish of my soul ever since the death of my father to support you and my mother in affluence aud geutility. “In pursuit of this it was that I was compelled to pace th streots of Morocco loaded with irons for one year; to be a galley slave two; to be ina con- stant state of starvation on board of a Tunisian vessel of war near one year; plundered of every- thing; insulted every how and way, and flogged for nothing at the pleasure of the bloody infer- nal ‘Turks. THREE TIMES SHIPWRECKED. “Previous to this you must have known, by some of the many letters I wrote home at dif- ferent times and from different quarters of the globe, that I had been shipwrecked three dif- ferent times, once near the mouth of the river Gambier in Africa. That myself and three poor sailors, all that remained of the ship, traveled on foot along the seacoast of Africa till we came near Sierra Leone, a European settle- ment, in continual danger from negroes, beasts and serpents, where wo were taken by'a band of negroes and carried into the interior of tho country, from whence two of us escaped, after year and a half of slavery (the other two died before), to Sierra Leone, from whence I gota passage to Bencoolen in a British Indieman. She was wrecked close by the port. I got to Bencoolen, there embarked for Calcutta in a Dutch ship and was again wrecked. Was a week at sea in thelong boat nearly starved to death, At length, by « complicated journey by land and water, I’ arrived at Calcutta, grow in favor of a merchant there for whom I went supercargo to different in the Indian seas. By so I got rich, returned to Cal- cutta, bought a Danish ship, called her the had insurance made in London and for my ransom. As Icould not pay it 1 was handed about as before related. ‘BY BRITISH AID. “At length, through the medium of the Brit- ish consul, I got clear; got on board of a Brit- ish man-of-war, whose crew, being dissatisfied their of mut and wanting srrears of wages, nome sti l : Bi i EE i i E 3 i i : i you must long since have supposed * Adieu! A brother's fondest wishes salute ou and ere long may he clasp in his arms his long-lost wister. Ten thousand blessings attend you. Your affectionate brother, ~H. Asmweean.” Many a time have I wondered what became of the writer of that letter. I read it first when alittle boy and it aroused my sympathy and) curiosity. “When the “dusty roads of life” seem weary I picture to myself eun- baked streets, The" gliston white walls and the cruelly clear blue sky, where long ago the Poor unknown, for his cherished object, as we do in our own ways for ours, “4 the atreets of Morocco loadéd with irons,” and buckle to my task again. Thinking of his courage and fortitude, 1 would like to know what became of him. Csom, Cat. VENUS AND JUPITER A Brilliant and Curious Spectacte Promised Soon to “Star” Gazers. ‘Sram by J. Morrison, M. . Ph. D.. Nautical Almanac Offce.} The most casual observer cannot fail to notice two very brilliant stars in our western sky after sunsot; they are the planets Venus and Jupiter which are now rapidly approaching that posi- tion relative to the earth which is technically called conjunction. The brighter and more Western one is Venus. They are both moving eastward and north- ward, or, a8 astronomers say, their motion in right ascension is direct, but Venus is rap- idly gaining on Jupiter and will overtake bim on February 6 atSam., when their apparent distance from each other will be only fifty- soven seconds (of arc) from center to center or thirty-four reconds between their nearest limbs Unfortunately, howover, both planets will be below the horizon of Washington at this time. ‘They will rise together at Sh. 41m. a.m. and set at Sh. 6m. p.m. For an hour or two bi sctting on the evenings of both February 5 and February 6 they will be so close to each other that the unaided eye may not be able to sep. rate them. ‘To most persons they will proba- bly appear as one planet. Venus will pass Jupiter on the south side and separate from him at the rate of about nine-tenths of a de- Gree per day. As seen through a telescope of moderate power the planets will presen nificent spectacle, Jupiter being attended by his four satellites and Venus showing only about four-fifths of her entire disk. Such a close conjunction of theso two planets is « rare phenomenon and one that those now living may never see again. ‘The ignorant and superstitious of former times regarded such astronomical phenomena as the forerunners of some great civil or phy- sical commotion, such as war, pestilence, fam- ine, earthquakes, &¢., but itis hardly nece sary to state that they possess no such signiti- cance. The present remarkable conjunction has no connection whatever with the Chilean imbroglio, the Russian famine or with any other calamity which may occur hereafter. Conjunctions of the planets are a necessary consequence of the arrangement of our solar system, and any civil or physical commotion occurring at or near the time of such phenom- ena is simply an accidental coincidence, aud nothing more. At the approaching conjunction the earth, Venus and Jupiter will be very nearly in the same straight line, and since they all movi around the sun in the same direction and with different, but variable, velocities, they must necessaril;, some time ‘or other, arrive at, or very nearly at, the same relative position again and again. The subsequent conjunctions, however, will not necessarily occur at the same points in their respective orbits. It will be interesting to trace the apparent course of these two planets for the next six months. Although both are moving eastward, the apparent angular distance of Jupiter from the sun is becoming less and less every day. He will therefore soon become lost to view in the splendor of the sun's rays, will be in con- junction with the sun on March 20, after which date he will rise before the sun and become a morning star. Venus, however, will appear to move farther and farther from the sun until she attains her maximum angular distance or greatest eastern elongation, which will be on the 30th of April, when her apparent angular distance from the sun will be about 4535 degrees. After this date she will apparently approach the sun, though still moving eastward in right ascension, attain her greatest brilliancy on June 2 and become stationary on the 17th of June, when she will be moving directly toward the earth, or, to speak more exactly, the straight line joming ie centers of Venus and the earth will move Parallel to itself, so that to a spectator on the earth the planet will appear for some time to Preserve the same absolute direction in space. Up to this point in her apparent path her motion will’ be direct, but will now change her course and move westward or retro- le as it is called; pass between the earth and sun or arrive at inferior conjunction with the sun on July 9, after which act she will be- =e . ae star; a Speed ppown d on July 31 and attain her noxt of great- est brillianey on August 15. ——__ THE GREAT AMERICAN DESER®, From St. Nicholas. ‘The great American desert was almost better known a generation ago than it is today. Then thousands of the hardy Argonauts on their way to California had traversed that fearful waste on foot with their dawdling ox teams, and hundreds of them left their bones to bleach in that thirsty land. The survivors of those deadly journeys had @ very vivid idea of what that desert was; but now that we can roll across it in less than a day in Pullman palace cars its real—and still existing—horrors are largely forgotten. Ihave walked its hideous length alone and wounded, and realized some- thing more of it from that than a great many railroad journeys across it have told me. Now every transcontinental railroad crosses the great desert which stretches up and down the continent, west of the Rocky mountains, for nearly two thousand miles. The northern routes cut its least terrible parts; but the two railroads which traverse its southern hulf—the Atlantic and Pacific railroad and the Southern Paeific—pierce some of its grimmest recesses. tise, exploration of this region was Lieut. Wheeler's United States survey, about 1850, and be was first to give scien! assurance that we had here a desertas absolute as tae Sahara. If its parched sands could speak their record whata story they might tell of suf- ferings and death; of slow-plodding caravans, whose patient oxen lifted their feet ceaselessly from the blistering gravel; of drawn buman faces that peered at some lying image of a id lake, and toiled frantically on to sink at st, hopeless and strengthless, in the hot dust which the mirage had painted with the huesand the very waves of water. No one will ever know how many have ielded to the long sleep in that inhospitable d. Not a year passes, even now, without record of many dying upon that desert and of nfany more who wander. back, in a deliriuta of thirst, Even people at the ‘railroad station sometimes rove off, lured by the sirange fasci- nation of the desert and never come back, and of the adventurous miners who seek to the golden secrets of those barren and hued ranges there are countless victims, A desert is not necemarily an endless, level waste of burning sand. great American desert is full of strarge, burnt, ragged moun- tain ranges, with deceptive, broad val- loys between—thougk as we near end the mountains become somewhat less numer- prominent, ‘Upon it, and hundreds of square miles of black, we not lava flows. A large partof it is sparsel; with the handy gtacwoved: but in of any sort breaks surface, as far as Teach. ‘The summerhest f me dead. | A GRAND HOUSE OF UNIQUE INTEREST. The Peacock Room Pertormance of Whist ler im the Leyland Palace on Hyde Park. From the St. James Gazette. Mr. Frederick R. Leyland, the head of the well-known Liverpool Leyland line of steam- ors, whose eudden death we announced on Tuesday, realized at his residence in the mediate neighborhood of Prince's Gate his dream of living the life of an old Venetian merchant in modern London. On entering the large entrance hall the first thing that strikes the visitor is the staircase, with ite fine balus- trade of gilt bronze which once adorned North. umberland House. The color of the hall and of the staircase is green from the foot to the top of the house. The whole, i# pancled in shades of willow. The dndo of the darker shades enriched with pan- els imitating aventurine lacquer, decorated with delicate oprige of pale ‘rose and white © Japanese style. These panels by J. MeNeili Whistler. On the the staircase are arranged Burne Jo .” Rometti's “Loving and Legro's * while on the wal The Spell,’ Rosset; “Cap Jones, A. R.A KA note to The place of b -and a of Rowetth. These late Mr. Leyland’s mor in bis houne is di- mssotti and Sandro or tastes, vided between Dante, Bottic, i. The dining room is famous in the art world asthe “Ieacock Koom.” This description it owes to the decoration with which Mr. Whistior has enriched the wa echeme of the room is tu: ral color was by a mero orate it. T ory is as follows: Mr. Leyland, having purchased « pictare senting adamsel in a Japane over a fireplace, where it et yams. ME. Whistler, baviag’ inspected the arrangement, complained that the red flowers scattered over the gold ground of the Spanish leather hurt the harmony of his picture, and y " Paint them out. Mr. Leyland gave a thor jeather, but he Revertheless allowed the impressionist leader to have his way, whereapon Whistler went on painting and painting until the Spanish leather isappeared entirely and anew and absolutely unique tive scheme of blue and gold, m the clue! mout was peacocks and the: eathers, appeared in its place. Walla, wood- work and ceiling are entirely covered with these Japancee compositions. Over the bullet at the end of the room opposite the fireplace is an oblong panel sixteen feet |: Mr. Whistler has depicted two peacoc sive attitudes, designed ingold ona ‘One peacock of unruitled elegance is supposed some subtle interlinenr readers to represent artist, and the other peacock, with «iso: dered plumage and irate micn, ¢andin pile of shekels, is identified with the artist's patron, ‘the background 1s dotted wath fying feathers and masses of gold, aod the whole composition has reference, we wre told, to « difference that arone between the artist and the late Mr. Leyland with respect to the cost of th work. This eryptic panel was the paiuter Vengeance, but its hidden meaning is 80 i creetly concealed that it would remain lost im the spirited charm of the whole bad not anec- dotic memories treasured up the souvenir of the artist's wrath and of its ingenious runi- festation. It is a remarkable fact that besides estranging Whistler and Mr. Leyland the “Peacock Koom had afar more tragic consequence. Mr. Jec- kyll, who bad designed and completely finished the room when Mr. Whistler appeared ou the scene, had already suffered several disappoint- ments, owing to accident having deprived him of the credit of his work im Mr. Leyiand’s house. When Mr. Jeckyll saw the Spanish leather dis appear and the peucock harmony in blue and gold become the tli of London he went home ‘and commenced to paint the floor of his bed room gold, and in « few weeks be died tmaane in a private lunatic asylum. The pictures ate ice. jue ground. Cutting Down That Message From the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette, She was as sweet # little woman as ever wore @ tailor-made suit and jaunty hat that made ‘every fellow who passed her straigaten his tie and look his pretticst. She walked into the telegraph office at 4th and Vine streew and timidly inquired of the clerk: “Cs I senda m to my husband here?’ “Yes'm,” respouded the bellow-eyed fanction- ary, brightening up « little and banding bere blank, with » pen and ink. ‘I guess :t will go ail right if I put the street mber, won't ity” she asked ‘Yes'm,” laconically replied the elerk, with ‘e804, anticipatory omile, cat ae “She frowned @ little thoughts and then wrote: = “Dear Charlie: You do not know bow mach Imiss you while away from home, though auntio is very kind, aud we have been shopping all afternoon. I have bought some of the loveliest swiss to go over my green dress and three pairs of French kid gloves, because they were very cheap, and I know you won't care, will you, dearest? I think of you always and wish you were bere with baby carriages aud cradi Ustle Mary. I was tempted to buy all three of them, but only tock the carriage. scald bottle every meal, and that the milk is fresh and sweet before it is warmed tor Lab; Bless her little heart! She is ber mamma's darling dear, so she is, and when she cries it may be @ pin sticking her and not the colic at all, remember. Give her a drop of camphor on a nice big lump. of sugar if that cough returns and two drops of Peppermint or paregoric in sugar and water im ‘8 teaspoon if she has a cramp in ber poor little stomach. The key to the cake box is uuder the corner of the mat in the front hall, aud if the icing sticks to the knife butter itand don’t give baby any; besides, be sure to crumble the crackers well iu her grucl Auntic w.ute me to stay all week, but I don’t feel sutistied away from you and baby so loug, dearest, aud will come home Weduesday. It seems like « year since I saw you, love, though it was only evening; 60 now you see how much I love you and cannot bear to be away from you at all Ub, if you should die or anything should happen while I am away! On thinking it over I will come home Tuesday on the first morning train, this being Monday night. Tell the girl to warm the roast from Sunday, or else cut it down thin, with Chili sauce’ to eat over it, and to seo that the bread docs not get musty in the try, and to keep the ants out of the sugar Poxabore ak. mie baby for mamma, and I send a hundred for yourself. From your lov- ing little wite, Susie Buows. Gathering together the piles of sheets tilled with the meusage sbe banded them to the clerk. He read the telegram while she stood there and blushed. ‘How much will it be?” she asked, shy! 'wenty-tive centé, madam. You seo we cam shorten it by leaving out a few of the unmeces sary words and 60 save you money. “Oh, thank you,” she said, beaming; “but cooseary « lark. be sure not to leave out any of the