Evening Star Newspaper, March 12, 1892, Page 7

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D,C.“SATURDAY. THEY PLAY THE VIOLIN Washingtonians Who Have Attained Eminence as Solo Performers. LADIES ARE IN THE LEAD. Leonora Von Stosch and Maud Powell Have Become Most Widely Known—Something of Their Career—Prof. Kaspar and Herman Kekemaan—What They HaveAccomplished HE RECENT AP- Pearance of Miss Nora Yon Stosch with the Boston Symphony Or- chestra and the ex- cellence of her work demonstrates the growth of masical culture in this city and brings to mind the fact that Washington bas produced some violin- ists of far more than ordinary merit. Itisa Singular fuct, too, that the two who have @rined the widest reputation and who are the best known are ladies—Misa Stosch and Miss Mand Powell Miss Stosch can be justly claimed as a Washingtonian, for she was born in this city and received the foundation of her musical education from a local teacher, while Miss Poweli can be claimed asa resident be- cause her father has become identified with this city. ss a wre MISS LEONOKA VOX sToscH wes born in this city in 1872 and is conse- quently now but twenty years ofage. Ate very early age she exhibited uncommon musi- cai talent, which was carefully encouraged by her mother. When she was but ten years old she took up the study of the violin under the late Robert Bernays and later became s pupil of Josef Kaspar. Her first public appear- ance was at one of Prof. Kaspars musicales in 1886 at the Congregational Church, where she ‘st once made a favorable impression by her bold yet graceful style in Vieuxtemp's Fantasia appassionata. Her work even at that early age was commented upon and s brilliant future was predicted for lier. Subsequently she ap- peared with the Wilhelmj Club, of which she was an original member, and later with the Georgetown Orchestra, when she yyed the Rubinstein Concerto. Mr. E. leimendabl, the well-known conductor, heard her on the last named occasion aad was so mich pleased that he invited her to play the same composition at one of the monic con- certs in Baltimore. She accepted and the press of the monumentat city was warm in its praise of the young girl. Ail this time she had been diligently stadying under Prof. Kaspar and when she was sixteen she went to Europe and entered the famous conservatory of Brussels, where her talents were quickly recognized and from which institution graduated with the highest honors. After some successful ap; ances in concert in Brussels, Ghent and other Belgian cities Miss von Stosch went to Paris and stadied with the celebrated violin virtuoso Marsick. who was quick to perceive bis pupil's gifts and predicted former a brillisnt career as sa arta Her ficst appearance on her return to this country was in New York and her great ability was at once recognized. She was unheralded by any preliminary puifing und won the ap- plause of her audiences ani the commendation of the keenest critics by the superior excellence of her work. Since then she bas appeared be- fore enthusiastic sndiences in Brooklyn, Bos ton, Philadelphia, Baltimore and other cities Her appearance here, which has already been referred to, is stiil fresb in the minds of the mu- sical community. Miss von Stosch 18 a young woman of fine appearance, having an in- telligent and expressive face and a full rounded figure. She is devoted to her has not in uny degree been spoiled bv cess which has so rapidly come to her. friends find her the same warmh Her ted girl k famous, aud they rej: knowing that she bas worke: plish it. She already reflects honor upon the city of her birth. sud her future career will be watched with interest, Shea “ws TES MAUD POWRLE. Although Miss Maud Powell was born in Peru. Li, she considers Washington her home end thie city can claim the greatest interest im the igh reputation she bas a+ Violinist. She was bora in 1568 and is consequently now 24 xeare Of age. As in the case of Miss von Stoseb, Miss Powel) early gave indications of ber fondness for maxic, the age of nine Years she commenced taking violin lessons of Ms. Wm. Lewis of Chicago. with whom she continced to stady until Teached her thir- teenth year. She then went to Leipsic and atter her course of instruction there she re- celved tke diploma of the Leipsic Conservatory of Music. Her next move was to enter the con- worvatory at Paris, where she stadied under Duneb and took pri After graduating Mise Powell made Mr. Theodore Thomas. She first Chicago and then in Brooklyn, New fon and other cities. Since that been constantly before the pablic, ‘® reputation equal to that of ist who bas a i i £ iy iF t 1 peared upon the concert « Presse inteloctoal iacc's poet Pressive, face, & the impresses her sulionce $1 oneta! Power as a performer and her artistic ment. That she has acquired perfect over the violin is admitted by the with pleasure he’ hes cometste ts lensure. tkilland plays with ‘warmth "eed stamp her as atrue artist. id ! Hee & g Hy ar Hl SOSEF KASPAR. Probably no man has done more to pro- mote musical culture in this city and to en- large its scope than Jocef Kaspar. As solo violinist he was first known here, then as leader of the orchestra at Ford's Theater, then as conductor of the Wilhelmj Club and as conductor of the Georgetown Orchestra. He i» ® musician by tradition, the Bo- hemian race, which were the people of his nativity, being renowned for their musical pro- clivities, The anti-Bohemian Germans, | speaking of them, relate this anecdote: a child is born in Bohemia a violin is lai ‘one side of the babe and a purse on. the other. If the child reaches for the violin it will be a musician, but if it reaches for the money it will be thief. Jose? Kaspar was born in Nadej Koo, Bohemia, in 158 and now about thirty-four years of E ars old bis parents came to this coun- y more, where young Kaspar, who must have reached for tie violin in bis infancy, for he early developed decided musical’ proclivities, studied with Gustave Rose, a graduate of the Brussels con- servatory. In his sixteenth year he returned to Europe and entered the Conservatory of Music at Prague, where he became the pupil of Anton Beneivitz, one of the few great peda- 1m Vhen gogues in the ‘art of violin playing. After three years of hard study at Pragus Mr. Kas- par. in order to perfectly acquaint himself with the French method, went to Paris and placed himself under the instruction of Emile Sauret, who wasat that time considered one of the greatest exponents of the French school, and remained with him until bis return to America in 1873. His rst appearance in America was with the Peabody Symphony Orchestra of Baltimore,un- der the leadership of August Hamerick, and it was with that organization that ue first visited this city in 1879, as solo violinist. He was so much pleased with Washington that he decided to make it his home and brought bere his young wife, for he had early fallen in love with the at- tractive Miss Annie Roemer, a young Baltimore singer, who had gained quite a reputation, and after_@ brief courtship they were Mr. Kaspar came to this city and assumed the conduct of the orchestra at Ford’s and also be- gan to teach the violin. He frequently ap- peared in concerts as solo violinist and his laying was marked by a finish, a keen musical intelligence and a boldness of execution that always won warm praise. About five years ago, however, he found he had no time to devote to the practice necessary for public performer and since then he has only appeared on the stage as a conductor. For this position he is eminently fitted both from natural mental vigor and from careful study. Besides he has that magnetic enthusi asm that communicates itself to the force under hie direction and inspires each to do his best wor In 1886 Prof. organized the Wilhelmj Club and has had entire control over its mem- bers. It is well known to this community both from the work it has done as a dissinct orgavi- zation and from its appeirance itteonjunction with the Georgetown Orchestra. It is a mode! string orchestra. Ife first appeared as the con- ductor of the Georgetown Orchestra December 28, 1886, and from that time dates the rapid rogress that that organization has aince made. Bots proud of the Wilhelm) Club and of the Georgetown Orchestra, both of which he asserts are superior to any similar amateur organiza- tions in the coun! MR. HERMAN RAKEMANY. The one who heads the list of male solo vio- linists in Washington now is Mr. Herman Rake- mann, who was bora in this city and is the son of the well-known artist. Joseph Rakemann. He began the study of the violin at the early age of seven years with Mr. C. Winders, a for- mer member of the U.S. Marine Band.’ After two years’ instruction he continued with Prof. Radolph Rowe and Felix Beukert of this city. Later on Mr. Rukemann assiduously applied himself to the learning of his father's profes sion in the decorative line and soon became quite proficient with the palette and brush; 80 much #0 that when he was prepared to go abroad it was a dificult matter to decide which one of the arts he should choose to perfeet him- seif in the European schools, reference being shown, however, for y of music, this course ‘was adopted. jakemann having successfully passed the on in the Royal High School of Music in Berlin, Germany, became a pupil of that insfitution in the year 1882, pursuing his studies under Prof. Emanuel Wirth and Jo- seph Joachim, “After three years spent in Ber- lin, Mr. Rekemann, in company with a friend, & pianist, from Holland, left for England, where they appeared together in concert with good success. Returning from abroad Mr. Rakemann was engaged for some time in Brook- lyn in teaching and concert playing. In Washington he hus been identifie with the concert stage for the past sixteen years, and his complete mastery of the violin hat placed him inthe rank of accomplished performers. Mr. Rakemann has also. been jassociated with some of the leading musical organi: ions of this city and previous to bis goivg abroad was one of the first active mem- bers of the Georgetown Amateur Orchestra, piaying with them for a number of years. With the Richard Wagner Society Mr. Rakemann was the leading violinist for two seasons, and alsooc- cupied the same position with the Philharmonic Club, orgunized by Prof. and Mrs. Ernst Lent, About four yearsazo Mr. Rakemann went abroad ‘again, remaining in Brussels under the tuition of the celebrated Belgian violinist, Eugene Ysaye. At present he is violinist of the Wash- ington Musical Club and teacher of this instra- ment. His name is a familiar one on the pro- grams of many of our best concerts, and his playing bas afforded much pleasure to's host of concert-goers. OTHER PERFORMERS. The late Mr. Robert C. Bernays was » violinist of high ability and had done much to foster leve for that instrament in this city. Although came from St. Louis he was thoroughly entified with the musicians of this city as a performer, a conductor and a teacher, and his death was seriously felt in musical circles. Mr. Rudolph Rowe at one time beld the fore- most rank among soloviolinists in this city, and as a teacher he has developed some good pupils, Mr. Szemelenyi is an accomplished per- former, and Mr. Anton Kaspar, a yor of Josef Kaspar, is fast coming to the Mr. Harry C BETWIXT YESTERDAY AND TODAY. ‘women—a woman with- out attractiveness. It was not that she was 0 exceedingly piain, it was not that any de- formity disfigured her, but in some way, mye terfous and indefinable, bat very patent, all the magnetism that attracts @ man to a woman was wanting in her. Where women lacking both her advantages of mind and person suc- ceeded she failed, while nature, with a refine- ment of cruelty,had endowed her with as loving a heart as cver beat. A word of sympathy, & caress, Were a positive necessity to her who #0 rarely received them. Tue very lines that added sternness to the face, the tight clasp of the lips that was so cold, the reserved manner which put one at such’ a distance, were but, Little as one would have guessed it, the marks by alifetime of patiently endured heart- CHAPTER L Overhead the moon was shining in all its glorious radiance, as it slowly sailed across the cloudless blue-black arc of heaven, while here and there» tiny star tried to match its twink- ling light against the long silver beams. The sea, lined and streaked with the silver light, lapped softly, lazily, against the stone- built pier, which stretched far out into its on | peaceful waters. Not a breath stirred the air, not a wave broke on the beach: only from afar, mellowed and softened by the distance, came the murmur of the breakers on those dangerous rocks that gave Cragsleigh such an unenviable reputa- tion. Half way up the pier a band was playing, and around the gas-lit pavilion stood the crowd of seaside holiday makers, who in- finitely preferred listening to the latest waltz from acomic opera or to acoruet solo with Variations on a music hall ditty to the contem- plation of the sea in its glorious majesty, with the mantle of night drawing around it. So the two figures leaning over the wooden railing which was fixed above the granite masonry at the far end were alone—quite alone. They talked little: sometimes one hazarded a remark, sowetimes the other, but more often they were silent, and since silence is only pos- sible between near friends and strangers, and they. had met every day for the last fort- night, they must have been near friends. “How still the sea is tonight,” the girl said atlength. “One can hardly fancy it storm- tossed and tempest-driven.” ‘There was nothing in the words, thero was everything in the soft, low voice, everything to him who has ears to hear; but mostiy we walk through life with wax-stopped ears, lest, per- chance, we might, hearing, understand and be as the gods for wisdom. “Yes,” he answered, with qnict, unmoved matter-of-factness, i i raging and dashing ag: as though it would tear them out of their bed, and he struck his stick against the granite wall around theim, “you would know that the eeu is avery lion to ror “True,” she answers sently. Her eyes looked wistfully out to where the light rose and fell across the heaving wea. “Yet,” and she spoke with adreamy intonation as one tired with the subtile tiredness of contentment, “I shall always remember the Cragsleigh sea ae the emblem of peace and rest.” “I think I shall, too,” he acquiesced. “We workers, Miss Boyle, need » little peace some- times. Don't you find that you always link your holiday reminiscences with cloudless skies and a suspicion of the land where it is always 5 nswered, simply, while a faint fiush came and went on her cheek, as he acknowledged their comradeship, “but that was perhaps because I snlered them bess.” “You prove.my gage, tty," pleased with Wve OF power, that, even in small 6% the strength of the argument should be on his side. “Do I? She was content to have itso. She turned her face to him. Once more the moon threw its bright light upon it. It was an open page toread, but he eaw nothing. Surely the dust must have been in his eyes us well as the wax in his ears, or he must have understood. Up the pier the band was playing the last item on the program. ‘There was a tinal crash, # final shriek of the violins—then silence, “Where is Hild: “With Mr, Carlmore at the bead of the pier. “At last!” There was something decidedly unpleasant about the speaker's words; something unpleas- wnt, too. about the voice; harsh it was insound, jarring in “Yes, at last.” repe in milder accents up,” she added. ‘Wouldn't it be wiser— », no,” interrupted Mrs. Slingsby things always come to a head more quickly with e litte juslicious obstruction. A. mai makes up his mind all the more quickly for having the girl taken out of his hands a time or two.” “Very well.” Mother and daughter agantered slowly up to the dreamers. Hilda was still gazing out tosea, while George Carlmore was speculating idly what manner of future might be instore for the woman before bm. It did not concern him: no, not in the very least. He was particularly certain of that. But she interested him much in the same fashion asa fests beetle interests a collector, but hardly as kee ated her companion, but “Come, let us look them ‘such Ho was a student of men and women. As he in his half-mocking manner would have said, is stock in trade;” and he was per- that he had chanced upon an un- pecimen. He fully admitted her indi- viduality; nay, more—he appreciated it, and in dim way had an inkling thut three were under currents of exceeding depthand strength in her nature. ‘That there was more of shadow than of sunshine in her life, with its uncongenial surroundings and itssoul isolation, he shrewdly suspected. ‘She carried something of this in her face. More than once he had been prompted to perform little acts of thoughtful- ness by the pain in but it was from very much the sa as that which caused him to relieve an animal in pain, and quite as impersonal. Love and Hilda Boyle in conjunction had hitherto never crossed his mind. “Well. ave you two finished star gazing?” Kate Slingby’s high-pitched voice broke in on the stillness as a false note breaks in upon an Something more than the upon her, and George, too, led without being conscious of reason. always have been accused of day dream- ing,” the irl i 7 ‘and he made @ nervous lite gesture of apol , as thougn to vent his dwelling upon the li-timed remark “Have you?” be answered in his most benign manner. “I don't believe in mooning myself,” ex- ed Kate, shrilly. “Hilda would be a gre deal better if she were more like other people. ‘Carlmore looked down at the florid face and at the mass of untidy hair, which were visible enough in the moonlight, and s “God forbid” rose to his lips, as his eyes wandered back to the wistful eyes and the intellectual profile of the girl by his side. ‘Hilda has her style, my dear,” put in Mrs. Slingsby, mindful of the main chance. “Ub, of course, of course!” amended Kate, seizing her cue. ‘The moonlight was merciful—it left the flush mere words jai feit himself th Poor, blind fool! walked ypeased her daughter, and again mindful of the main chance’ she called after the retreating figure: “L'il bring you something warm up to your room in a moment or two. wear.” “No, no,” Hilda returned—as much vehe- mence in her manner as she was capable of—“I want nothing, thank you, auui.” Nothing—nothing but to be alone. ._ “Uh, yes,” cheerfully insisted Mre. Slingsby, in high good humor, “‘we must do something to bring tho roses back before tomorrow.” “You are very kind,” murmured tho girl wearily; and sho wondered how long it would be before she might hope for solitude. “Not at ail, There, go to bed, my dear,” re- turned Mrs. Slingsby. “You see what it is to bea person of im- portance,” cried Kate after her, unable to forego a little taunt, “Kate!” reproved ber mother again. Atlength Mrs. Slingsby, after many fruitless endeavors, had been persuaded to withdraw, and Hilds was left to the solitude she craved. She drew aside the white curtain, opened the window, then, kneeling down, rested ber arms on its ledge. ‘A soft breeze touched her cheek; the murmur of the sea came up to her; her eyes sought the great blue above her, as though its stillness might help her to realize what was this—this something that overcame At first no clear thought seemed possi- bie. Where another woman would have blushed, she trembied, and for the first few moments her whole frame shook in short, con- vulsive throbs. What was it? What did it mean? A speck of bright light caught her eyes, the echo of a firm, springing footstep. She Icaned forward to watcb until the figure, with its lighted cigar, passed from her sight. She knew who it was. Had she been in doubt —und she never was even for a moment—the opening and shutting of the little wooden gate belonging to the cottage garden next door would have decided her. She drew back her head. The trembling fit had passed away; her eyes once more sous! t the sky. ihe said, softly. late tumult of her heart had found words at last. Galatea had come to lite. She knelt on, breathing, palpitating, hardly able to credit the thing’ which her lips bad uttered. ‘The church clock tolled the hour; it chimed 8 single stroke again; and still she never moved. Llove him ‘The words ran riot in her brain, and filled all her being with a vague, delicious joy. At last, when another halt hour had well-nigh winged its flight, the first perplexing doubt presented itself.’ Witn,a long sigh she gave place to it. She had been in Paradise, and lo! even there was the serpent! es se me, too?” she asked of her- But the heavens were silent. There came from them no clear voice to pour assurance into ber ear. Quietly, systematically, with all her habitual method and coldness, sho passed the events of the last fortnight, since the day sbe had first met him, in order before Her passion of afew moments ago might never have been, 80 calm was she. Yes; here a look—there a tone. Stay! Was she so calm after all? How her soul stirred within her her of Had he not sought her out, talked to his aims, appeaied to her for sympathy, relied on her for comprebension. Sarely, surely, this must be love. No other mau had ever turned to her, si tee had -with- » sing! set her apart, as he had done. Out her share; only she had stood alone, only she had been cut off from this great gladness. Yhere had been moments when her heart welled forth its silent protest, when the dreari- ness of hor iot appalied her. It was not that she craved for “love,” as the term is generally understood. A man because he was # man had no special interest for her. But what she did sas was a little sympathy; some ono to talk to of the things that filled her life, some one on wuom she could rely. She could not remem- ver either her father or her mother. She never had a sister. Kate, with her mental horizon bonuded by bonnets and a somewhat unre- ‘ained sense of admiration, was worse than 1st, Daisy was her only ‘refuge; aud even Daisy, bright-eyed child that she was, could uot munister to der intellectual requirements. At was this void that George Carlmore filled. She had thought of him asa pleasant friend— might, perhaps, have continued to dv so until eend had not Kate's insinuations kindled another flame in her heart. Tonight she forgot all this pain. Softly she ciosed the window; softly she crept into bed. She had tasted of the fruit of life, and how sweet it was! And the after taste? Well! sutticient for the day is the evil thereof. It was full daylight when Hilda awoke. She sprang from her bed, and, drawing up the white blind, looked engerly out; then she al ered and drew back alittle. She suddenly dis covered that she was very cold. It was one of those gray mornings which so often follow a glorious day of sunshine. Evers- where the light pierced, everywhere it lent a stecl-like shade to the landscape. The sca waa no longer a soft, shimmering bed, ready to rock the tired wanderer to rest on its bosom; it waa bard, gray. pitiless as it dashed on the beach with a sullen roar. Far out, quite at the opening of the bay, there was no heaving water to hide the rocks; instead, they lay baro, their sharp points and steep sides fully ex- posed to view, while firmly wedged between aasea were two or three long spars bearing silent witness to what bad been and what was not, Even the plain, unornamental pier had beon touched with the enchanter's wand last night, but it looked grim and bare enough as the girl turned her glance upon it. Presently her eyes wandered to Woodbine Cottage. “There was @ strange mixture of eagerness aud unwillingness about her glance. She would like to have looked upon it when tho sun was shining: yet what could the daylight mutter toit? It could not rob the honeysuckle of its sweetness, the rose-briar of its fragrance. True, but even it looked cold in this gray light. Hilda left the window. The chill bad crept from her limbs into her heart. Last night the ‘one supreme fact—she loved him—had sufficed; today ber heart clamored for fuller knowl- edge. She was not one of those women who could take to themselves the undignified atti- tude of winning the man they loved. It would have revolted her—nay, have been impossible toher. Her distrust of self would have stepped in there and have prevented her, in the same Wray that it stepped ia now and prevented her seeing the situation clearly. question low before her and demanded a sht, carried away by her pared to the exam- remembered trifle came ‘was sadly little to build upon. She could.not believe it Like astar of hope was the remembrance of her aunt and Kate, ‘They had no doubt; they must know. It was only she, who was so ignorant—what did she know of 8 man or of his way il i A E vl 5 if Hil i ves,” ‘the two F: bj od reer bitter feeling of despair a in her heart. a 1 Aunt,” she wailed; “why did you How could she meet b' hand, be decorously ii sooo heady Loerie ‘SWoman'sewoet dissimulation toher. There could be no putting of one’ salt aside—that was berond her power. She would be awkward, shy, unresponsive, and be would mistake—perhaps be hurt. 3 her face in her hands, two great ‘Shi tears in her eyes and slowly trickled Gown ber aneabe. The Darden was very heavy upon her. ° . . . ‘The meeting was not long delayed. George saw her wandering up and down the narrow strip of garden and came out to ‘to her. He pnt bis hand over the low fonce that divided jons. morning,” he said. She looked up at him, and in her eyes how good he was to look upon. Souk) bern she faltered, and then be- cause e fel must something, she added, hurriedly: " “Daisy is coming this evening.” : ‘Aud who is Daisy?” he asked in indulgent este end, she migh 5 might ‘the from between it FE 'y cousin,” she answered: have added, ‘but of course she did not, one bright spot in my life until I met you.” “Oh!” His tone did not evince particular pleasure; she couid not see how a younger, therefore” more pronounced, edition of Kate could add to his enjoyment. It chilled her; the lightest suspicion of disap- robation on bis part was hencerorth to trouble er. She clasped her hands nervously together and blundered out: “Yes, my cousin. Kate's youngest sister, youknow. Iam sure you will like her, one” —with an appealing glance— He never noticed the ginnce. second Miss Slingsby matter to hi he to like a young woman agai “Lam sure you will like her,” Hi ida repeated, more and more overpowered by her nervous- ness, “I don't know about that.” he told himself, irritably. He took afew whiffs from his cigar, while she stood still, slowly plucking tue leaves from arose, her whole being one torture of con- sciousness, “Did you like ‘Faint Shadows?’ he asked, after a pause. At was his work, and, however sure « msn may be of the perfectious of his own creations, he likes to hear it indorsed by some one else. “Yes,” she faltered. ““Ihank you for lend- ing it to me.” Yesterday she would have added a word or two of apprecintive admiration; a sentence of trenchant criticism. They would probably have differed, but there would have been some- thing stimulating in the difference. Today she Was tongue tied. “I thought it might have interested you,” he began, coldly, irritated by her apparent in- difference. “Lt did,” she gasped. The words she wanted would not come. “Shall I give it back to your” she udded, say- ing the very last thing that she bad meant to say; forhad ne not implied that the volume was for her, and had she a more prized posses- sio “If you please,” he answered, coldly, without an effort to conceal his displeasure. , The color lett her face. George was exam- ining his cizar in moody silence; there was to be no help from him. ‘The lump in her throat swelled and grew;in another moment she must choke or ery; the tears were already close to her eyes. Sho would save ber dignity whatever else were tet “‘Aunt is waiting for breakfast, I think,” she said. It took all her strength rae her voico from faltering. “Don’t let me detain you,” he answered, ceremonionsly; “good morning.” Not a word xs to future meet not an allu- sion to the probability of their tinding them- selves on the pier at the same hour. Hilda turned away, ber face as calm, her manner as deliberate us ever, but in her heart was the bitterest pain that even she, who bad eat in the school gf pain for many along day, bad ever kno She walked straight through the rickety into the little dining room. French window There was no hesitation aboat her movements. Sho was not one of those people who require Preparation for an ordeal; she would rather do 4 disagreeable thing then and there and get it over. Now, to face Kate, who she foresaw would be bristling with innuendo, was something more than ble: Sill, as she told her- self with « touch of grim humor, after one has been broken on the wheel, the thumb screw Must secm a very second rate sort of affair, and this was «bout the proportion her meeting with Kate bore to that of Carlmore. Both Mrs. Slingsby and Kate were seated at the breakfast table when she entered. Kate's mouth was drawn down with a perplexed curve; her forehead had an unusual crease across it. She held an open ctter in her hand. “Good morning, aunt,” said Hilda in her steady, grave voice. At the sight of her cousin Kate's brow un- creased itself. “L have it!” the cried. “Well, dear,” responded Mra, Slingsby en- courngingiy. Hilda waited in silence for what might fol- low. It was cear that for the moment, at any rate, sho was forgotten. She drew ‘a long breath. Not until she measured it by the stan- dard of her reiief at this trifling postponement did she realize how she dreaded the ordeal. “Hilda,” commenced Kate, after a moment's deliberation, “do you know Daisy is coming this evening?” “Yes,” assented the girl in her unmoved voice. Yet was it not her own gleam of sunshine? There was never a suntlower turned its head to the sun with greater joy than her poor heart turned itself toward this bright child; only the sunflower opens her great yellow crown in token of gratitude, and she could not 0 much as smile her pleasure. “1 thought you would be glad,” continued Kate, sharply; but perhaps—" “L am," interrupted Hilda, hastening her words for fear of what might come next, “only yon see I have hada letter from Daisy myself. So your news does not exuctly come in the light of a surprise.” “Oh!” murmured Kate, sweetly. She was in the mood to accept the olive branch. “I an- derstand; and you see,” she continued, “mother” (who, a8 it happened, had no word in the matter at all) “and I thought you would not mind having Daisy to yourself for one evening. The Hewitts lave asked us to go over for a night. Tom” (with a conscious simper) “tis at home again, and—weil” (with an exaggeration of maidenly embarrassment) “we used to be very good friends. You won't mind Daisy for one evening, will you? Indeed, I thought you would like it, “I should,” Hilda replied, as she absently lifted her empty cup to her lips and set it down in. ‘In her heart sho was asking if Kate's simper and her own misery of consciousness were one and the same thing. She felt that she would prefer to think they were not. “What a queer girl you sre!” exclaimed Kate. “I don’t believe you carearush for anything. I thought you would be delighted. You used to be almost fond of Daisy.” Almost. “Do you want’ me to meet Daisy?” Hilda asked, ignoring the taunt. “Yes, if you will be so kind, dear,” Mrs. Slingsby interposed. “E don't doubt that you can find » egm- panion,” added Kate, whose memory had been jogged by her mother's smooth tones. “At what time does Daisy’s train get in?” Kate held her peace, defeated tor once. There is nothing so baffling as ® person who will not understand. “At—” began Mrs, Slingsby. “Dear where is theletter? Didn't she ‘ell your" ‘am ing to her niece. Zot hesitate was ter. “No; but let me help you to look for the let- Did you open it in your room? Let me seo if it is on your dressing table?” Hilda felt that a moment's solitude would be © positive mercy. Kate, however, from her pocket. “At 6:15,” she said: “and we,” hastily turn- a the pages of the railway guide, “go at “Then followed an animated dlscnssion, on ‘MARCH -12, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. ‘Written for The Evening Star. THE FLAG OF HEMPHIS. ' An Incident That Followed the Battle of the Hama ‘THE CARER OF THR GON OF THE ENGINEER WHO BUILT THE RAMS—TEE YOUTE WHO TOOK COMMAND OF THE FLERT AMD PINALLY GAVE ‘MIS LIFE TO mIB COUNTRY. REteRINe TO THE BATTLE OF MEM- his, no account of that is complete without the incidents attending the rst hoisting of the national colors above the rebel city. This feat was performed by the youngeon of the colonel ‘the steam Tam flect, Charles Rivers Ellet, » of nineteen, who had joined the fleet six days be- fore the battle. The fight was hardly over, the Monarch was still chasing the rebel rams and Gen. Thompson and his command had barely retired from the town, when Col, Ellet sent his on with a party of three mon to take posses- sion of thecity and toraise the United States flag. The little party rowed ashore and worked its ‘way through an insulting and menacing crowd to the post office. The incident is briefly given in an official telegram sent the following day by Col. Ellet to the Secretary of War: Usirep Srares Ram Swrrzent PPOsITE Mexpuis, June 7, 1862. To, Honorable Sceretary of War, Washington, AN 7, Sir: Yesterday, after the engagement with the rebel fleet bad nearly terminated and the fam boats and one of my rams had passed be- low, I waa informed that a white fing had been raised in the city. I immediately sent my son, Medical Cadet Charles R. Eliet, ashor@ with « flag of truce and the following note to the authorities: Orrosire Marana, June 6, 1862. To the Civilor Military Authorities of Memphis: Gentlemen: I understand that the city of Memphis has surrendered. I therefore send my son with two United States flags, with in- structions to raise one upon the custom house and the other upon the post office as emblems of the retarn of your city to the care and pro- tection of the Constitation. Cuantes Exxer, 3n., Colonel Commanding. THE MAYOR'S REPLY. The bearer of the flags and of the above note was accompanied by Lieut. Crandall of the fifty-ninth Ilinois regiment and two men of the boat guard. The foliowing is the reply of the mayor of the city: Maron's Ovrice, Mexrnis, Tass. June 6, 1362 Col. Charles Elet, jr. commanding, Sir: Your note of this date is ree and contents noted. The civil authorities of this city are not advised of its surrender to the forces of the United States government, and one reply to you is simply to state respectfally that we have no forces to oppore the raising of the flags you have directed to be raised over the custom house and post office. Respectfully, Jous Park, Mayor. On receiving’ this reply the small party proceeded to the post office to raise the n Yonal flag, ‘and were there Joined by the mayor. It ia proper to say that the conduct of the mayor and some of the citizens was unexceptionable, but the party was surrounded by an excited crowd, using ungry and threat- ening language. They ascended to the top of the post office and planted the flag, though fired upon several times and stoned by the mob below. Still, I believe that this conduct was reprobated by the people of standing in the place. Indeed, many indications reach me of an extensive Union sentiment in Mem phis. Respectfully, Cuannes Exzer, an., Colonel Commanding Ram Flcet. The concluding words of Colonel Ellet’s telegram are a keynote to the great and herote soul even then passing from the wervice of the country. Patriotism was its ruling passion. He believed in the existence of a strong Union feeling in Memphis; he beheved in its exist- ence throughout the south. Love of country, ride in American citizenship, were as the th to his nostrils. He could hardiy con- ceive of ae He neverto hrnselt hath said: “Tuis is my Own, my native iand."” He loved the south. He sorrowed over the shock to her prosperity: the loss to her popu- lation; the many sad consequences he foreraw to ‘her, rash action. Born in’ Ponneyivnia, married in Virginia, his greatest professional plan—of which 20 mention has been made in ‘hese sketches—contemplated ths protection of the valley dod delta of the ‘Mississippi, and the control of the great rivers emptying through the Mississippi into the gulf. His great heart knew no north, no south, no sec- ton. “My country, first,” last, always my country,” was his watchword, and to this cause he sacrificed bis private fortune, his personal friendships, left his most helpicss family; in feeble health, with shattered constitution, om- braced exceptionally dangerous service in a climate pronounced by his physicians in ad- Vance most menaciag to him, and sent into extreme peril of Life and limb his best beloved, his brilliant boy, the mogt precious offering his heart could lay upon his country’s shrine. ‘THE GON’S CAREER. The career of this son was brief indeed, but crowded with incidents enough in ite few re- maining months to make a history. Before the appearance of the rams he had, as medical cadet, during the weeks following the battle of Bull Run, so distinguished himself in the care of the wounded brought to the old Union hos- pital of Georgetown, in the performance of amputations and the dressing of wounds as to win unlimited commendation from the physi- cuns in charge. Left,with the rest of his fam- ily, in ignoranee of the perilous mission which suddenly carried his father from home, so soon as he ascertained its nature he went by daybreak to the house of the Secretary of War, sat upon the door step until Mr. Stanton came out and to be allowed to join his father. At first the Secretary refused, but touched by the lad’s earnestness he took him in his car- riage to the department and on his way yielded to his entreaties and gave him the necessary passports and orders. The terrified and stricken family could not resist such determination,and with their reluctant consent the young fellow left his beautiful home and reached the fleet at Cairo June 1, his birthday, in time to go on the first reconnaisance made by the rams under the guns of Fort Pillow be- fore the abanduument of that stroughold by the enemy. Afier the capture of Memphis he accom- panied the fleet to Vicksburg and carried dis- patches containing the first intelligence of its victory to Farragut, then below the city, crossing the peninsula ‘on foot under circum- stances of such difficulty and danger that the gallant admiral thanked him publicly in the presence of his officers and complimented him In warm terms upon his gallantry and judg- ment. BIB SERVICE OX THE RAMS. Promptly promoted to the rank of colonel che was placed in command of the steam ram fleet, while his uncle, now Gen. Alfred W. Ellet, formed the marine brigade well known for its services at the siege of Vicksburg and along the Missisei “The Ellet rams” were sent upon many a dificult and hazardous enter- rise, and in alll their young colonel took prom- Roe part. ‘Three times he ran the batterics of Vicksburg by broad daylight on one or other | a of his wooden boats; once with exploded boiler dsifting fast, having with ‘is own hand nailed the flag to the mast that it should “go dow flying.” When on an expedition up Red rivi he ran upon a masked battery, which exploded his boiler and his vessel fell’ into the hands of aS ae eee got men, in is off all his men, Senpacesely +44 ad | § is ees HY £ ee Hi i ry HEE EF ii i ht iH ? : i f i iit | y i } F f i i r i | Ho : i HF of i i ‘The Bar Association Investicntion Into Judge a= UNUSUAL AND 4 SENSATIONAL Tarve— ORGANIERD CHARITY IN THE METROPOLIS AxD 4700 PREQUEXT TIPE OF THOSE Wao sxcURE ASSISTANCE FROM THR BENEVOLERT—xoTss, ‘Special Correspondence of The Evening Star, New York, March 10, 1892. I8 A VERY UNUSUAL AND A SENSA- tional thing for the bar association of the state to make a formal inquiry into the moral ‘Sitness of a man occupying a seat in the court of appeals to hold that lofty office, and hence ‘the investigation into the record of Judge Maynard has occasioned an extraordigary stir in the upper strats of metropolitan life. The residence of Judge Maynard for several years in Washington lends this matter additional in- That the offense of which the judge is said to have been guilty is connected with a heated controversy over election returns will, at the very start, furnish many with a ready excuse in his behalf. We have grown eo blunted in fixing the fall measure of blame in transactions of this kind, especially where they are succoss- fal, that it is difficult to the proper nalty or even to woigh testimony with any- Bing like jostice. The ri me of the men who stand among the hi polit- ical annals is staincd by episodes of rough-shod methods in political crises. It is not with the same feeling, tuerefore, that most persons come to this episode that would be theirs wore the offense of another character. Nevertheless the action taken by the bar association reflects a profound indignation and a determined resola- tion to put the blame on the right shoulders and in fall measure. It takes a good deal to move a body of law- yers to initiate a public and formal inquiry into the moral fitness of a judge before whom they are constantly called to try cases. And the fact that the bar association by almost a Unanimous vote has takeu this step is of itself almost a condemnation. Similar nction a few Years axo precipitated the resignation of @ judge, and it would not be at ail unlikely if Judge Maynard retired from active service on the benci till the pending investigation 1s con- cluded. Of course it will be charged that the whole thing is a political persecution, but the suficieut reply to that claim is that the leading in the matter are democrats. Moreover, the high personal and professional character of the committee who have charge of the inquiry precludes any idea of a rau The world’s fair appropriation bill is being kicked about in the Albany legislature for all the world as if it hadu'tany friends, And to tell the honest, plain, cold truth, that is just the reason. ‘The statedid really try to get up a littic enthusiasm when the bill was introdw but the interest was artificial, perfunctory and ephemeral. New York, the more shame to her, doesn't care two straws about the world’s fair. It isn'teven resentiul or hostile, though the shoe is already beginning to pinch, and it is keep on pinching harder and harder. For every man wliom you could find a year ago Willing to admit it was a mistake to let the fair escape, You can now find ten. Business is undeniably dull and, aoe merchants can be heard whispering “ 0” as the ox planation, 4 700 COMMON TYPR.. The Charity Organization Society of this city Publishes a book of about 500 pages, in which it enumerates the charities of the city witha few lines descriptive of the scope of each one. Any one looking over this book would naturally think there couid be no form of want or dis- tress for which special assistance was not pro- An intant could begin its career in any one of half a dozen foundling asylums, go through every possible grade of shelter, school and retormatory and end its days screuely in the home for “respectable, aged, indigent females,” if it happened to bea female. The insane, the blind, the crippled, the deaf, the dumb and the drunk are ail lavishly provided for, and this great network of churities is classitied by the accurate system of the Charity Organization Society which gives the most mupute and intelligent care to the investigation of cases of poverty and refers them to the Proper channel for assistance. But there are constantly coming under the notice of those who work a: the that bafile the most astute, classified, and that make one’ utterly as to the existence 01 class long known at is an Englishman, @ tall, tine-looking, well- appearing man, who has, according to his own story, lived since last fall with a wife and four children with no work of any kind and no in- come at all. The wife is a pretty little young creature, witha refined manner, a sweet, low English voice and an accent which suggests that she might add to the family resources by giv. ing jiessons in talking English to New York's young Anglomaniacs. The children are exceptionally plump and solid litt's specimens, who manage to mysteriously fatten and flourish on nothing a week. The oldest, s most guileless aad innocent-seeming little creature, is sent daily on @ regular route with begging letters, written in well-chosen lan- guage and containing a variety of appealing arguments why money ghould at once be sent to the head of the family. Since day befére yesterday at 8 a.m. none of the family have tasted food. Or ut 10:30 tomorrow morning they will be forcibly ejected from their present quarters with no else to go. ‘The inno- cent baby face backs up the appeal, and the mouey is usually fortheoming. ‘One charitable lady was shocked at the ce at her house, a long distance from the residence of this family, of the little girl alone ut 9 o'clock at night. ‘The appeal this time that they had just moved, but had no fur- nitare, cooking utensils or bedding until $2.50 was advanced to get their “boxes” from the express office. ‘Ihe lady asked the little one indignantly: “What did your mother mean by sending you sofar after dark alone? Why did she not come herseif?” 4 “Oh! I know me w’y,” said the child. “Did you think I didn’t know me w'y?” She said she had had a slice of bread that day, but was very reluctant in her consent to sitdown and eat something. The reluctance was explained when the servant came in aud reported that tne mother was Waiting for her outside, Nores. We sit uneasily and await the weather news from the wild west. Are wedoomed to another Diizzard? Ab, that awful March zero tempest and cloud-burst! Itisone of the few things which had power enough to plough into the memory of this great town and make atself an epoch-inarker. More tough citizens: Ata fire this morning a bedged-in mother, living on the fifth floor, threw out her two children and then dropped | to the ground herseif without serious injury to | any of the three. The crowd below assisted by catching the erolitesas well as they could. ‘Who shail say that base ball is not a worthy in- itution? A nation that develops men willing able to face modern pitching easily pro- duces a crowd who think little of stopping such rojectile as a full-grown woman hurling her- self down from a fitth-story window. Marvelous is metropolitan journaliem! Its latest exploit is to undertake to shame the street-cleaning department by putting its re- ‘at work on certain streets that particu ‘Written for The Evening Star WASHINGTON’S BIRTHPLACE vd. Pose of this article to present to the short description of Wakefield, where Wash= ington spent bis early boyhood life, and state what has been done by Congress toward marking this place with suitable monument. Of the many great mon who have been promi ent in the early or late history of this country, Westmoreland county, lying on the Potomae river sixty-five miles below Washington, claims the honor of boing the birthplace of three— Washington, Monroe and R. E. Lee. Wakeficli uated in the northern part of this county, just three miles below the summer Tesort Colonial Beach and in full view of that lace. Itisa large plantation of 1,900 rdering on the river for one-balf mile Fanning back some distance between the bis- toric Pope'sand bs where the home of Washington stood ia 100 yards from the bank of Pope's creck and some distance wp from the river. Nothing remains of the original a which was a plain house of four rooms om floor and several in the attic, ex the bricks that formed the foundation of sokoum, Up to afew years ago a lone chimney stood marking this historic place, bat now nothing Temains save a cluster of trees, a few Sg bushes anda pile of broken brick. THE OWNER OF WAKEFIELD. The owner of Wakefield is Mr. Jno.B Wilson, y of Maryland, but whe has for mearly srs been residing upon the place He married Miss Bettie Washington, whose erand- father was Wm. Augustine Washington, the phew of Gen. Washington. Wm. ington used to live on Kalorame Meight in this city, was the owner of this and it was while he lived ‘that he enter- tained Fulton and lent hi valuable assist ance whilc he was perfecting bis plans for his steambout invention. ihe tabie used by Fulton Lis drawings for bis steamboat Was the ouc used by Gen. Washii ® mother, and can be seon now at Waketiel owned by Mire. J.B. Wile Although the civil war left Tide Water, Ve in a crippied condition, this northern neck Virginia is most favorably situated and the pee ple today live w. dim no country will you find more hospitality, more refinement or e@l- tivation than along ibese two great rivera the Rappahannock and Potowne. he first of Washington's ancestors that came to this country were two brothers, Lawrence and Jobn, who vottied in 1659 at nidge Oreck, The name of the old home was changed im 1784 from Bridge Creek to that of Wakefield, Law- rence afterward moved to what us now Eesex county and there died early im January, 1677. in iappabannock, the county seat of Essex 4» recorded the will of Lawrenee Wash= and inthe court hoase of W recorded the will of bis brother Joha. Joba Washingtc < ton is descended. to) oO Was the son of Jol Washington ed to America. THE WASHINGTON VAUTT. terred in the family voult, This vault is only ® short distance from the birthplace, but nothing rewains except group of trees and ® few marbie slabs with inscriptions om them ale most extinct. ‘To rescue from oblivion this bisterte by marking the spot whore stood the louse witha suitable mouument Congress already faken action. ‘or this purpose, on June 14, 187% bye Joint resolution, £3,000 was a) “2 the spring of 1550 Win. M. Evarte, then Seere- tary of State, made visit to the and on May 24, 1890, wrote @ letter to J. Randall, Speaker of the House, gested that the designation of the home in which Washington was born the preservation of ali that time had should shape the architecture of ment to be erected. He estimated structure would February 26, 1881, the of 3,000 was increased to that amount, ead the expenditure of the money was lef im the bands of theSecretary of State. As the land to be occupied by the Mouument had first to be purchased with a public right of thereto from the river after the passage of this joint resolution appropriating the == Hon. T. T. Frelinghuysen sent an officer of the State Department wit ~~ | 4 district attorney) to see the ~ Upon e of the ttle and after due eur: were made proper deeds were these gentlemen apd executed by Soun BW sonand Betue - his wife, and the chase money prot en the Sf the United States that of Wakefield that contains the early bose Washington. From the above it will be seen thet for ears the government bas owned this but the owner of the land provided thet it forthe pur for which jt was chased, nately, the suitable macing hye monument or otherwise the birth site, ‘Of the $30,000 appropriated there stfll mains $24,713.63 suuject to the order of the Secretary of State for the purpose for which i was provided. THE CAUSE OF DEL ‘The design for the monument, with working plans, has been prepared, accepted and paid for, and the only cause for farther delay is the failure of Congress to provide the edditional amount to build a wharf, as recommended Col. Thomas L. Casey, engineer corps, U: Statesarmy, as being necessary before the monument could be erected. Koowing that the original design of Was to mark the birth spot and to make of ite lace of resort as well; ‘and knowing that to wea wharfon the place at which boats could stop connecting with @ leading to the birthplace was m 8, 1894, Secretary of Stute Freli ‘Thos, L. Casey to visit Wakeficid. On this tip Col. Casey located the four cerners of the poted monument and likewise made and surveys of the river at that point to making estimates as to the cost wharf, which estimates he wharf at 6,000, for a cast-iron wharf at $9,508 and for a wrought-iron wharf at ‘The result of this report on May 1 sent by the Secretary of State to Arthur, and be on the same this communication to the sentatives: Executive document Forty-eighth Congress, first resolutions Nos. 5 and’ 17, approved June i, 1879 and February 26, 1881, and « | tion recently introduced im the ber 14, 1891, by Senator Hoar of give full information as to what At is to be hoped that the necessity of this small appropriation for # wharf or forth in Gen. Hoar's joint resolution, will be brought to the atieution of When only once explained it is commendable measure will vet go — —— THE GREAT ENGLISH STRIES, iff Ry needed rake and shovel. But, alas for amateur cleaners of the Augean stables! the police pounced down upon the noble band and “ran them in.” However, this martyrdom also will aid i sensation. Hexax B. Exss0. Rea nC ‘THE SPOILS SYSTEM DENOUNCED. proceeded to make plain what the natioval ser- Vice is and how it is affected for the better by At Least 400,000 Miners Expected to Quit Work Today. When the night shifts left the mines in Dus~ bam, England, yesterday morning they brought their toole with them. ‘This was done in accordance with Thursday's decision, which makes the coal strike = certainty. It was thought the miners would reconsider their de- termination to take a holiday, but the action taken Thursday shows that the men are deter- mined to carry out their intention te restrict the output eo as to prevent the mine owners 4 t i 5, . a Ihe H Fe