Evening Star Newspaper, September 17, 1892, Page 18

18 LIFE IN PARA. What First Strikes the Eye of the Visiting Stranger. VULTURES AS SCAVENGERS. A Law Against Killing the Huge Carrion Birds—The Ptetaresque Custom House— Hotel Life Not Unpleasant—Every Branch Of Trade Has Its Special Quarter. Brom The Stars Traveling Commissioner. Pana, Braztt, August 5, 1892. HE FIRST THING ‘that attracts your at- tention on arriving in this Amazonian city is the great number of zipalotes (vultures) that dlacken every church spire and house top and lock down upon you with meditative air as if speculating how soon you will be likely to make a meal for them. i Should you beso unfor- tunate as to fall dead in some sequestered spot, unnoticed of the living, be sure they would find You ont in the twinkling of an eye and in an i eredib.y short time prepare your clean-picked skeleton to grace some doctor's shop or museum collection. A heavy fine is imposed for kilt:ng | one of these hnge carrion birds, and were it not | for them your chances of life in this locality would be appalling'y diminished, since they do more than all the city fathers toward keeping | this hot, undrained, vile-smelling city in a state Hiness. . the next thing you notice is the sly picturesque custom hoase, for thither | ast go immediately upon landing to the aeof your luggage. A fine old church and convent have been appropriated to this ig- noble use, and in the shady cloister garden, | with 1 wealth of graceful, long-les ed plants | and thorn-crowned heads carved above every arched doorway, you undergo the customary tussle with suspicious official The next move is to seek an abiding | pen, a will probably take. every- | y'sadviceand go to the Hotel do Com- mercio, which is in reality the only decent inn in the place, although the name of the others is ‘egion. Ascending some worm-eaten wooden steps you are shown to enormously large but tare apartments, which remind you of town balls, but are from ugliness by the awntng-shaped French windows, ench opening on a little balcony. The tiny balconies. m which it is safe to say that all your time indoors not devoted to eating and sleeping will be spent. overlook an inner court yard, gay with flowers and caged song birds and screaming parrots and chattering monkeys and turbaned house ne- gresses—a typical Brazilian “interior” of which ‘one never tires. ATTRACTIONS OF THE DINING ROOM. When minded to seek the dining room you find it deliciously cool and clean, its long French windows also opening upon flower | gardens, with sanded floors, white cloths, white | china and white-a fruits that have attained | i I house are used to sleep in. as wo them, are unknown, but hammocks hung everywhere, in ‘and halis | dining rooms and along the whole longth of the veranda, to catch every breeze that is | so that any number of Cn | be “slung up” ina single in- conven: Except in “ue most expensive ; the front roow.s only are ceiled and latticed windows are much more common than Another thing that strikes the stranger is the al f people With thove he ta seen in Stee, parte of the The Portuguese | from their brethren and sisters in other parts; but they are few here, while the Indian race predominates. In Para as in no other city the aboriginals of Brazil may be seen, both in pure blood and in every of admixture with whites and blacks in every strata of s0- Mica, oor te Promdectweantese oad Snook positions, own the m: ‘an estates and figure as capitalists and servants, Pfiests and politicians, soldiers, sailors, pro- fessional men, street; , belles and beaux. The most beautiful woman in the city, wife of a nabob, who rides in an emblazoned carriage, is said to be of ‘alf and ‘alf, negro and Indian blood. Formerly used to pay their visite and go to church in ahammock, the two ends ing carried by men servants, who swung the precious bu: between them, but now coaches and carriages are common. , Fanure B. Wamp, ——— DRIFTWOOD IS THE FASHION. It Burns With Many Colored Flames, Which Are Very Stylish. N ELDERLY PERSON IN A PEA jacket, with frizzly whiskers and a smell of stale seaweed about him, was observed on the beach at Asbury Park the other day gathering driftwood. As fast as he secured an armfull of such flotsam and jetsam he would carry it to the roadway on the other side of the board walk and deposit it in a small wagon that was attached to a cadaverous-looking horse. Within less than an hour he had a fair load, and a Star correspondent ventured to congratulate him on getting his firewood so easily and cheapl “Laying in your winter's supply?” he re- marked interrogatively. Naw, I ain't,” replied the man in the pea jacket. ‘Only some stuff for the kitchen fire?” Betcher.” “What do you gather it for then?” Firewood.” pa say that you do not burn it?” ‘You sell it, “Betcher. Why should they purchase it?” Young feller,” responded the pea jacket, removing an extra b tobacco from his mouth. "t got time to | stand here ali day answerin’ questions. Any- | body that’s got sense oughter know that drift- wood is worth money nowadays. City folks | that kin afford the Iuxury burn it in their fire- | places. It's the fashion at present, because | when it burns it makes flames of all sorts of colors, sich ax green an’ biue an’ yaller an’ red. | It looks pooty and so it fetches a high price. What I collect along the beach I sell to a wood rson in the sized chew of [HOW TO BE A DUDE. Hints to Well-Dressed Men as to What to Wear This Winter. Coat Sfeeves Must Be Greased as Well as ‘Trousers—How to Get Along With Thirty Pairs of Pantaloons—Littie Things Most Important in Costume—Stocks for Neck- 0 YOU KNOW THAT howling swells have their coat sleeves creased now? It is the very latest agony, just imported from London. Henceforth it will be as is in pursuance of a theory secepted nowadays that one’s clothes shouid always look as if they were put on for the first time. It is well known that the Prince of Wales never wears a pair of pantaloons more than three timos. Until within recent years it was considered that a gentleman’s costume should not have a brand-new 9 that he ought not to seem as if just from the tailor’s shop any more than he should smell as if just from bar- ber's. Ideas as to this point have been turned upside down. ‘Ignorant are to learn about this or that young man of fashion who is re- vorted to one hundred pairs of trousers. owas 8 7 gle in, the \ewspapers not youth of Gotham whose valet stole three pairs of his pantaloons. ‘This led to the discovery that the same servant while in the employ of another gentleman six months previously had robbed the latter of forty paire of similar bi- furcated gatments, though the theft had not been found out meanwhile. These facts came out in the police court. Popular misinformation attributes such multiplication of “bags,” as they are called in England, to wasteful’ and ridiculous excess. But the truth is that a real swell does not find himself over-provided when he has from sixty to ome hundred pairs of trousers. He cannot get along at a'l satisfac- torily with less than thirty pairs and always have them look as if they were perfectly new. HOW CREASES ARE KEPT. “Certain mistaken and very absurd notions have been popularly entertained hitherto re- specting the methods by which creases are kept in trousers,” said one of the best known men in New York society. “It isnot true that they are commonly laid between mattresses for this pur- | nor do fashionable youths even have them | lined about the knees with thin pasteboard, re- | fraining from sitting down. It is time that | these misconceptions were exploded. A gentle- man with thirty or ‘more ‘of pantaloons manages in tl ise has thom piled to- gether on a shelf, each garment carefully folded. When he ‘makes a change, he alwa; absoiute perfection, ally pineapples, which grew to coormous choo and ary served im ways we have never seen before. Reckoned in yard here and it is shipped to Noo Yawk. Or- | dinary firewood is good enough fer me.” | Much of the stuff that is sold as driftwood is takes the lowermost pair. Thus no pair is wo often than is necessary, and the mere the coin of the country the charges seem ab- surdly high, 7,500 reis per diem to each person, until you remember that the sum represents only about $3 of our money, and that you are all the comforts of a New York hote | ing and after b not such in reality, being merely soaked in sul- | hhate of copper and other metallic salts, which | En burning produce vari-colored flames. Any thoughtful person who takes notice of | the driftwood along the beaches cannot but be | astonished at the enormous quantities of it that | are thrown up by the waves, particularly dur- storms. It seems beyond imag- ining where all of it comes from. But it must be remembered that the oceans are vast, that the craft sailing upon them are innumerable and that whatever is set afloat finds its way | more weight of the trousers keeps them properly creased.” There is the secret ina nutshell. Of course, they must be sent to the tailor’s at in- tervals for ironing. “Kept in this manner the trousers always look rfectly new. Furthermore, it mu re- membered that it is no more’ expensive in the long run to possess thirty pairs than half a dozen, inasmuch as they last proportionatel longer. In fact, it is cheaper, because eacl | pair lasts better. Some men prefer to keep | their pantaloons in a series of shallow tray is much more bustli activity than one expects to find in a tropical | city, especially along the wharves, for scores of | steamers come and go every day—not only those plying up and down the Amazon, «upply- the river towns with all the necessaries of | and bringing away the multitudinous | of the interior, but ocean ships direct | the United States and from continent, so then any other South American city. The fi ships carry | ‘away enormous quantities of India rubber—the | product of this part of Brazil—besides yundreds of tons of Brazil nuts, fine cabinet ‘woods, sugar, cotton, cloves, rice, sarsaparilla, farina, cocoa, annatto, |, Piasaba rope, butter and other queer but valuable Speaking of cabinet timbers, of the choicest varieties in the world here as commonly as pine at home. Not only tulip, mahogany, ebony, cedar, laurel, , but many kinds of Facerania (ome wood), sou trade iful tortoise-shell wood, moiracoatidra, violet-tinted paolo nao de arco, intricately yo and a hundred others whose names eventually to the shore. At the same time only a small fraction of such material is actual wreckage from lost or damaged vessels. Much of it represents the debris of rotted piles which have been destroyed by the teredo. The bulk- | heads erected to resist the advance of the | breakers are continually being wached away, thus adding a large contribution. Wherever there is wood under the water it is attacked and quickly disintegrated by the destructive agencies, among which the teredois chief. Thus people who live by the sea need rarely patron- ize the wood dealer for fuel. SHE LIFTED FOUR KINGS. Magnetic Miss Bentley Astonishes Czar and Princes. The “Story of the Girl Who Baffled the Czar” is told in the new number of the Review of Re- views, says London journal. Miss Beutley, who accompanied Mr.and Mrs. Stuart Cumber- land on their recent visit to Copenhagen before the golden-wedding party broke up, rather sur- prised his majesty by some of her experiments. | dresved ch holding one and puiling out like | rawer. A.closet may be devoted to sccom- modating such a chest of trays. There are a few very particular dandies who have their coats ali folded and piled together, instead of stretching them over frames. This method keeps them in the best possible shape, particu- lnrly as to the creases in the sleeves, but only an expert can do the fohling properly. A valet with such an accomplishment is to be regarded asa treasure. Shoes when they are taken off should be put on boot trees, which are made to order of wood after the shape of the foot, cost- ing from $4 to 87.50. pair. They not only keep the shoes in form, but take out the wrinkles and thus prevent them from cracking. MUST PAY ATTENTION TO LITTLE THINOS. “A man who is ambitious to be a swell must pay strictest attention to the little things. It is the accessories of costume that make a well- rion. There are plenty of sporting men and gamblers who spend a great deal of money on their own apparel, though thi would violently resent being called “dudes, having dozens and dozens of suits of clothes, Ido not know, all of which are being rapidly the United States for the inner of rich men’s houses, mosaic floors, tke. ‘THE SPECIAL QUARTERS. One knows exactly where to look for every- thing in Para, for there is an especial “quarter devoted to each branch of trade and strata of yy. The first and second streets running the anchorage ground are devoted to ito stores, t F nel ar a Mercados, and the sides are painted in all the colors and covered with gaudy adver- J | their stores, in the style,bat that He keenly watched the efforts of the Prince | Royal of Greece to push tojthe ground a billiard | cue lightly held by Miss Bentley in her hands, and with considerable alacrity he took his nephew's place after he had failed. The czar grasped the cue with both hands and put his | enormous strength into the effort to get the | | point of the cue tothe ground. It bent and | | quivered, but all his majesty’s efforts, like those | of his predecessor, were in vain. But a still greater surprise was in store for | the ezar. He placed his hands under Miss | Bentley's elbows and lifted: up went ‘the young English girl until her fair hair almost touched the ceiling. Then Mr. Cumberland | explained that on that occasion Mixs Bentley | had allowed herself to. be Jifted. but when his majesty next tried he would find it impossil Seeaciae Wis one cued. Bertoren quickly gave way toa look of perplexity when all his efforts to lift her the hundredth partof an ineb from the ground were unavailing. Still more surprised was he when Miss Bentley, lightly | resting her fingers against the wall, re isted the efforts of various members of the royal party to push her against the wall. ‘The experiment with a chair, in which Miss Bentley, by merely placing a hand on each side of the back of a chair, with the thumbs slightly curved, lifted a person seated thereon, excited | peek f i it FE [ jet beh H mh | i l fl fe Hi i i f i i L | A h ! f | tt t E & i by h i i HI the czar’s profound attention, and he sat on the chair and was lifted. the Prince Royal of which they have made by the most fashionable and expensive tailors. They go to the best aces also for their hats and haberdashery. Yet they are not well dressed, because the in- cidentals of their attire are wrong. The necktie rticularly must always be just so. It may Keirly be called. the most. important article of dress, Unless it is exactly what it should be the whole effect is spoiled. Show me a man’ necktie and Iean tell you a good deal about him. Next after that ‘the shoes are of con- sequence. be immaculate. “A man can afford to wear a cheap suit of clothes, and he will be well dressed if what Ihave called the accessories —necktie,collur, shirt, shoes and gloves—are correct. One can spend a good deal on such details—say, $16 for pair of shoes, 26 for a shirt, $4.50 for gloves of rein- deer wkin and @6 for a nocktie—but it ia rot le | absolutely necessary. A friend of mine, who is obliged to economize in such matters, pays &6 cheap place, where he has a dozen exactly like it made up for €2 apicce. It is the style that costs. In the same way he buysa suit of clothes from a swell tailor for @80 and has several copies of it made in like materials at an inex- nsive establishment, With other things he Roos cimilarty. ‘There are follows here it New York who maintain an ap; ce of fashion and live very comfortably indeed on $3,000 a year. HOW TO BE A SWELL WITH EcoNouY. low can a man be a swell on $3,000 year? Ef vie ile ti i ! e i HI sti E i li i FE lg thrashed wound, would have Man so circum- summer. They must always fit perfectly and | for a shirt at the best shop and takes it to a/| | such souvenirs, not one of them worth less butterfly flare. Some ex year. be bronght home in cabs. At the same corresponding tints,” ‘The music of its Around thy dear New England home, to thrill Bright evergreens do not profess to follow the fashions, but to lead them;s0 have their articles of cos- fume made according to their own ideas to « great extent, they get as newly as pos- sible from abroad, either bringing them over themselves or procuring them from friends. Neckties for this winter should be of heavy silk or satin, the knot being very smal and the ‘apron’ below it spread out as widely as possil The searfpin ehoukl be stuck through the lower part of the knot, in the mid- die. Nothing is so tasteful for that purpose as ‘& single pearl of pear shape. One costing about €225 will not be too large or showy. Some of the prettiest scarfpins in New Yorl men who have been ushers at a great many swell weddings. It is the fashion on such ocea- sions nowadays for the groom to present scarf- pine of value to his friends in attendance at the ceremony, having made on new designs for the purpose. The number manufactured being limited, they are more prized on that ac- count. One fellow I know has twenty-eight $1004 ° COLLARS AND CUFFS. “The cuffs worn with colored shirts are of the sume color as the shirts, of course, but the collar should always be white. It is the best form to have the shirt and cuffs all in one piece, and the collar likewise when the shirt is white. The ueweat collars are bept over very slightly at points, which extend forward nearly to the end of the chin, but without flaring in the Bradder Bones style. Cuff buttons should be flat oval links of plain gold, bearing 1» crest or monogram. vet collars as far as the notch of the lapel, be- coats are made with vel- low which there is a silk facing. White waist- coats for evening are double breasted with four buttons and cut low. Tuxedo coats without tails are not proper fora dinner or a dance,but are correct enough for an evening at the club or at the theater when Indies are not present. There is a novel modification in dress ties. hich should be pinched small in the knot and have a rtness is required in ing a knot of this kind. There should be ree studs, preferably pearls, TA man who sete up for a swell ought to have an elaborate toilet set of silver or gold. One fellow I know got his by buying a gold button- hook and telling his friends that he desired the other things to match it. Two or three other acquaintances of mine have recently employed Japanese valets. They are said to make partic- ularly excellent body servants,” one virtue of theirs being that they only get’ drunk twice a When they do goon a sprec, however, they take it very severely and usually have to ime, they take remarkably good care of clothes, not oniy pressing but even mending them, and they do not demand such high wages as English- men. Tt may be as well to telf you in advance that the fashionable young men next summer will be dressed entirely in white, even to their shoes and hat bands, except that their blue and pink shirts will be matched by stockings of Rene Bacar. see Written for The Evening 5.ar. The Burial of John G. Whittier. Sleep now—0 singer! when life's day is done, ‘That heard thy song— ‘hoes lingering still ‘That listening throng. i flowers around thy grave, They scattered free— ‘Twas well—for like the flowers, with fragrance sweet, And evergreens, like endless life to greet, ‘Thy songs will be. Sweet bells that strack the number of thy years * Rungsweetly by, To tell of sweeter music in thy song, Which in the hearts @f men will linger long, Never to die. Thy country’s flag, the bright and starry sign, Drooped at tay fall— For dear to Freedom as her hero's fight ‘The songs that come like music in the night, Sweetest of all. ‘The brave and gifted gathered round thy grave, ‘To bid farewell— A brighter circle dawns upon our eves, Whostand to bid the welcome to the skies, Above to dweil. Sure the sweet song that lingcted here so long, Ts not to die— Like some sweet songster—bat a moment's hush, ‘When higher in the air the wild notes gash— ‘Thy song on hig. —J. H. CurnsEyr. Washington, D. C., Sept. 12, 1592. — LINCOLN ON MARRIAGE. ‘The Great War President in Favor of a Form of Stirpieali From the Chicazo Tribune. In his wanderings about the city a few days ago the writer nad occasi: tocallon a man who was an intimate acquainta: Lineoln, and such men are growing fewer. ‘The conver- sation turned on the great man naturally. for if aman kuew Lincoln intimately he is ran to Lincoln before the conversation is over if it laste sufficiently long. “In some respects, said the gentleman referred to, “Linco'n's memory suffers by reason of his having been the king of wit, There are those who think that he never said anything serious. I cannot understand how such an impression exists, but T know it does, Why. he was one of the greatest philosophers I ever heard, and his philosophy was always modestly put, but at the same time he was always go ‘sincere in it that he was at times almost solemn. I re- member on one occasion he was talking about marriage, a subject in which he always took the most profound interest. He suid that every man who contemplated marriage ‘shoul stand over a doctor with a club and make him tell the trath in reference to the chosen partner for life, if there were no other way of getting it out of him. And he wont farther. He do- clared that the parents who would allow a girl to marry aman without knowing as nearly as could be known his physical as well aa his moral condition deserved to be sealped. In his opinion the whole marrving business was wrong. He declared that fashionable girla too often were cursed with foolish mothers, who cared for nothing but to see their flesh and blood sold to the highest bidder. ‘There was nothing funny in that sort of talk, was there? It ought to be framed and hung’ up in every home in the land. How few men kuew the deeps of that master of men. Wi the world that he should have been taken awa; from it at the time when he was just being un- derstood.” — vagaries which bave arisen at the prompting of Very | & too civilized palate. Since they are not always year at New- | thus impotent, however, we must be allowed a different furnished for him, Lf Hid i Fy 8 rage i hi i houses and | word of warning respecting them. Take, for example, the opium habit. Intended by nature be | HIS WELL-GROUNDED BELIEF. |; Testimony of Those Who Knew Him as to His Reverential Manner in Church and His Earnest Study of the Scripturos—The Most Important Thought of His Life. ‘Written for The Evening Star. HIS QUESTION WAS put tome by a devont woman lately: “Was *Daniel Webster a reli- giousman?” When Ias- sured her that he wasshe expressed her surprise and requested me to fornieh her with some of the evidences that he was. She herself was not only known to wide circle of acquaint- ances as a person of Teligious convictions, but she is not a little "| famed for her work in the field of practical religion. She confessed her ignorance of what I assured her, to wit: That Daniel Webster was throughout all his life not only a “religious map” in the ordinary meaning of the words, but a man of profound religious convictions in the higher sense. I told her also tlint Mr. Webster was a daily reader of the Bible. a firm believer in its teach- ings, and could repeat no small part of it, the Psalms and the writings of the apostles being to him an unfailing source of instruction and wisdom. SURPRISED AT THE INFORMATION. My female friend was all the more surprised at this, and when I assured her that Mr. Webster on all proper occasions never fuiled to refer to the Bible as the book of all books and the Christian's reliance the grandest of all codes of morals and the only right rule of ‘personal con- duet she insisted all the more earnestly on be- ing furnished with some of the proofs from which I spoke. She did not doubt what I had said, only she did not know it, her age and ways in life, although both had been among reli- gious people, not having bronght her into con- thet with what could enlighten her on the #ub- ject. Mr. Webster's religious character and Views had never been brought to her attention, although in a general way she and her family had always been admirers of Daniel Webster, and also themselves strictly religious, as the word goes. Acting on the suggestion’ of the conversation I determined to become a mitsion- ary in the sense of. enlightening my friend, the resumption being that there are mauy more like her. Indeed, it is scarcely to be doubted that, at this distance of, time from the period in which Mr. Webster was an actor on the stage of affairs, the majority of intelligent persons are as ignorant as my friend, who would not be satisfied until I had “promised to give her the light, ‘There could be no. better medium for sending it forth than Tue Star. TESTIMONY OF A CLERGYMAN, A New England clergyman of renown, who at an early age was a student in Mr. Webster's law office, says of him about the time he first went to Congress, that he was not only a communi- cant ¢ Presbyterian Church.but “Mr. Web- ster was a of deep religious feeling,” toler- ant of the views of those who differed from his, d believed in the Scriptures as u divine rev- elution to instruct our ignorance and our darkness.” The same writer say: reasoning in the pulpit always guve him un- easiness, but plain, pungent preaching, which arraigned the sinners before God.” gained his commendation. It is about to die “he first di business, then minutely then fell’ back on his religions hopes. «3 last hours to religion as a familiar subject cherished.” {Is BEARING IX CHURCH. Mr. Webster's bearing in church and the con- spicuous traits of his religious character ure described by one who knew him well: “His ap- pearance at church was striking. He entered the house of God with an appearance of rev- erence, which is quite umcommon. He walked up the aisle to his pew in the church at Marshfield as if he trod a hallowed place. Ashe sat his mind seemed impressed with the sacredness of the dav nnd place and the spiritual themes that prewed upon him.” Itis added that “he fre- quently joined in the singing with bis deep bass voice.” It is related that on one occasion he was all attention tothe di the words of Pilnie to J Not only did he pay of the sermon, fixed upon the piercing eves,” it is added ‘were seldom, if ever, fixed upon a preacher in ancient or mod- ern times, and one having felt their power can readily liken the anecdote which was told by « his Jong minister fresh from Andover, who under the influence of those same eves was struck dumb ii idst of his discourse and rank into bis the doctor, who was more accus- jstinguiched presence, to finish the most important thoaght that ever occur ied his mind. It was asked ata repast where there were a number of gentlemen. b: of them together cou!d draw Mr. Webster ot of the moody reveric into which something bad plunged hi Attempt afver a:tempt” was made to draw him in: one gentleman repeated the questi Webster, I want you to tell me what portant ‘thor your mind?” Mr. Webster siowly passed his hand over his forehead and toa friend fear him: “Is there an; who does not know me?” was no one. well imagin eound upon such an occasion. giving answer such a question. “The most important thi that ever occurred to my mind,” wid h that of my individual And then for twenty minu’ theme, and when he had finished he rose from the table and retired from the room. The rest of the company ‘ired taan adjoining room. When they bad gathered thers some one e: claimed: “Who ever heard anything like that?” What Mr. Webster said no one ever attempted to repeat. It was impossible to do 80, TX A couxtny cuunca. Mr. Webster once attended divine worship in quiet country viliag>,where a simpte-hearted, pious old man preached. Afver tho simple opening services he named his text and began js discourse by saving with simple earnestness: “My friends,we can die but once.” “Frigid and weak as these words migh! seem at first,” said Mr. Webster, “‘they were to me among the most impressive and awakening I ever heurd. I never fell 00 sonsthy that Imast die at ali as when that devout old man told me that I could ‘but once.’ ‘Mr, Webster always believed in a reverential keeping of the Sabbath, and on that subject he is roported as «peaking with great carnesness, “The longer I live,” :aid he, “the more highly do T estimate the importai roper ob- i the more grateful do I feel toward those who take pains ‘to impress a sense of this importance on the g i a 3 8 } : RF H : F g ui : of the ‘obviously essential.” TRAINED BY HIS MOTHER. Mr. Webster was trained by his mother to the LARGE ESTABLISHMENTS THAT RICH MEX HAVE TO TRANSPORT TO AND FROM THEIR DIFFER- ENT HOUSES—IT 16 AN EXPENSIVE LUXUBY. WRITER FOR THE STAR MET A young man who has been in town all sam- | mer and he was in such astate of hilarious dehght that it was evident something of an uncom- monly pleasant nature had occurred. The Young man belongs to the class that lives for pleasure and makes a rather heavy occupation | for itself by devotion to the lighter aims of life. But before the reader gets lost in a rapturous contemplation of the complicated character of this young man it will be well to show why he ‘was 20 pleased. “Well, old man,” said the writer, “what is it that pleuses you? Have you found a new tailor that gives credit for four yeata? Or are you going & marry a girl with a million in hor own cane "Exo, no.” he answered, “that ain't it, al- though that would be jolly, wouldn't it? Bat I the late Dr. Codman of Dorchester of a young | | ht that ever occupied | spoke on the | tell you I'm happy today, for they're all begin- ning to come home. I saw some of ‘em on the street today.” “Who's coming home?” “Why, people—don't you know—people, I tell. rou.”* “I thought there were, a good many people “Ro my bow sai the oe “No, my boy, dl your man, “there hasn't been a roul invtown all sammer, But now a few people havo oome back and f'n le meant of course the people whom he knows, those whom he does not know not being counted. ONE OF THR PROPLE. Just as he spoke there passed by in a glori- ous, high victoria one of the “‘people.” She carried a parasol and lounged back as though she was deadly fatigued. The horses ste high in the air and the coachman and footman looked contemptuously upon all mankind from their elevated perch. Ax she passed she looked at the youth and raised her eyebrows slightly as though she would say, “What! You in town at this season of the year. I t you were in Paris;” then she bowed to him’ sweetly. Jupiter! How happy that young man was. He colored with pleasure, and! if mobody had been near he would have danced around a lamp post with glee. Unconsciously, perhaps, he step) high in the air like the iad Soret and loo! contemptuoualy upon all mankindlike the lady's coachman und footman, Yes, they are coming home, They have danced and dined and had a jolly good time all summer and now they are coming to thei city mansions to make ready for the winter cam- paign. Although many people abuse them and most people envy them. it cannot be denied that all miss them when they are away. Merely as or ments to the streets they area welcome addition to the population, and when the sea- #on is in full blast it is a pleasure to anybody to stroll about the streets where they have their habitat and watch them, WHAT A LIFE THEY LEAD. And what a life they lead. The general plan- ning a campaign that may result in thousands of deaths is not more careful of the details than the society woman planning ner party that ay, if mismanaged, result in the murder of » re of appetites and digestions, The general aay plan as well as he caz, but he can never sucesed unless he has faithfui subordinates, and, in the eame way, the dinner party may be a terrible disaster if the cook permits the terra- pin to get burnt. Other calamities may happen, too. d thake it!” said a facetious guest at a dinner ty to the waiter who was carefully bearing a bottle of old, old Madeira to the hands of the host, and the idiot shook it, as if it were « bottle of medicine “to be shaken before taken.” Of course there was nothing to be done but to send the bottle back to the cella from whence it came, there to spond another year in settling. But just conceive the agony of the hostess who had planned the dinner. A general who has seen his troops flying in all directions can appreciate her,intense humilia- In, These people who live for pleasure are a singular race and they look at life in s singular way. Upon current events their views are peculiar. One of them was asked what she thought of the political situation “The politic ation here,” she asked, ‘‘or abroad?” They go to Europe so often that it must be specified always what country you are referring to. To them England is ha inaceessible than New York iy to Washington- i ‘They huve only to wish “to go over” and go. It having been #xplained to this indy t the political -ituation here was meaut, she answered somewhat as follows (the report be- ing as nearly verbatim as possible): IDEA OF POLITICS. “Oh. [don’t know much about it. It won't make any difference to us. I took luncheon with Mrs, Harrison last winter and she seemed very nice. So ix Mrs. Cleveland, [ hear. M3 husband save we couid live cheaper if we had free trade. because then we could have things sent us from abroad without paying duty, but we live over there half the time anyhow. T don’t care much for polities, but I want my son to take them up as soon as he is old enough and to have himself elected to the Senate, or some- thing. "I think people ought to take an interest |in the place where their property is. That's what I always tell my husband. I don’t think he ever has been to Where our coal mines are, _He inherited them, ¥ou know.” She would have been ashamed of the fact if her husband had made bis money. al-hough making it implies the giving of a quid pro quo, | whereas inheriling it implies that you are en- | joying the fruits of another man’s toil. Why are they coring home, it may be asked? mpl they want a rest. There are two regular of the year—mid- ummer at the summer resorts and midwinter at the wintér resorts, In the spring there is «a breathing spell and in the autumn also. At | those times the pleasure makers have time io look about them and to know something of | their own lives. During the ‘reason” all is rurh and excitement and they load as bard ife as the brokers of Wall street or members o the House of Representatives. ‘The pace tells | im the end, but while the race is being made life is pleakant enough. To TRANSPORT AN ESTADLISHMENT. of these grand establishments back to the city. It must be stated at the beginning that the household picked out ix not an e: yal one, is simply one of scores that make Washing- ton a home during some eight or ten months in the year. This honsebold, then, lives at two places—here and, let us sav, Bar Harbor. The they have no honses there, and when they are not in Washington or Bar Harbor they are either guests or they pay board at hotels. They have not Jess than four horses and usually sup- port six, but they transport regularly each year atleast four. To send a horse from here to | Boston by express costs y freight it conte about 815, As there is a limit to every man's ‘money and as transporting horses by express soon find that limit, the average family ig con‘ent to risk the transportation by freigh:. To-get the four horses and the carriages and and grooms and cuachmen to Boston must cost | at least 8100. To get them from Boston to Bur | Harbor is about €40 more. The 8 9604-2 month and the footman $35 ‘Thi “is “hoderate, Many Washing ton coachmen get @90 a month. and of course, they never hare any clothes or foud to buy. A man can go to Europe a first-class cabin for what it costa 3 5 i é E E cl Now, let us see what it involves to move one | family go-to Europe and New York also, but! stern, crushing manner of his, “ very respectable sum in addition. It . nearly @700 to move this establich- ment from Rar Harbor to Washingtin. Some ly rich men move little or nothing, but fabatonsl, “Ihave their several establishments always kept in | Fanning order, so that they can step in at any | moment; bat this requires: }an enormous monthly expenditure and is so useless = that are hardly ® bundred men in America that don't follow | the other plan. But it can easily be seen what 8 bother it must be to move a lange establish- ment back and forth. Your subordinates can- must direct it, especially as you are the ones that have to ‘pay for everything. Moving is thus an undertaking whieh rich people have to | toil over. How thankful the reader mast be that he is not rich! To move the family in from the country when there are no attaches to the legation, #0 to speak, is considerable trouble, | but it is not a circumstance to the trouble in- | volved when the attaches outaumber th. rest of | the party. But the rich residents arg} moring and the city begins to show signs of their return. Lot us welcome them, for all of us are glad to see them back. 3 aa i CHICAGO'S RICH MEN. They Don't Like Clubs and Are Not Given to Ostentation, Chicaro Correspondence of Savannah X The merchant princes and millionaires of ‘Chicago are unostentations in their methods of getting down to their business in the morning. All of them have splendid and well-equi stables, but for all that these ger their places of business in very much the same manner that « $10-a-week clerk arrives at bia, ‘ake Marshall Field, the merchant of whole- sale and retail fame, for instance. 1 do not know that Mr. Field is on the verge of pauper- ixm—indeed, it would probably be safe to muy that he is not—but for all that he nearly always walks to his stores in the morning. Mr. Field usually leaves his elegant mansion on Prairie avenue about 9:30 o'clock in the morning, walks down Prairie tagl6th and then crosses over to Michigan boulevard and continues his journey down town on that thoroughfare. He w tke very oriskly, for he reaches the retail store promptly at 10 o'clock, talks with his head men afew m@ments and then repairs to his whole- sale store on 5th avenue. There he spends «ix oreight hours at unremitting Inbor. l for home about 4 or 5 o'clock. very often late In these down-town wrlks Mr. Field is not ways careful about his relations to other pedestrians. One day last summer I w: eyewitness of an amusing incident, in wh was the central figure. Mr. Field Wabash avenue at a pretty lively ga of the way of an approaching cable train, and Just au he reached the curbstone he ran and knocked into the gutter a very small Itali newsboy, whose diminativeness had led to being overlooked ‘The little fellow’: in all diretions were befouled with filth and mud. The young. ster jumned to his feet. and shaking his grimy fist ‘at the stately Mr. Field, heaped the mc frightful maledictions upon that gentleman devoted hend. Whether the young bandit would have rounded out his revenge by calling the at of the Mafia to Mr. Fi having patiently Waited until the Ind had exhausted his extensive vituperative vocabulary, took promp tory measures, le beckons ingeter and told him to “come along.” The small boy, rather snepecting that reparation was at hand. motly complied. A few moments later Mr. Field bad tarned over the boy to one of his with instructions to see that the youth- ful Italian was properly cleansed and then pro- vided with a good outfit of clothes, hat and shoes, together with a new stock of papers. An hour later they oungeter was backon the cor ner selling papers in attire which made his f jow-merchants green with envy. Thus did Mr. Field escape the fate which overtook poor Chief Hennessey. If that little Italian knows what the amende honorable is I have no doubt that he hus long since reached the conclusion that Mr. Field has made it. G M. Pullman, the sleeping-car mag- nate, ia another millionaire who doesn't arrive at his office m state—that is, not always. In pleasant weather Mr. Pullman’ often stretches his legs by footing the two miles between bie Prairie avenue home and his place of busin On other occasions, however, Mr. Pullman rides ins closed carriage, driven by @ colored jehu, = ried. Once in a while one of Mr. Pullman's hand- some danghters drives her to the Michi- gan avenue pile in vh ch the Pullman Com- vany has ite headquarters, Dut that is not fen. Often as early as 7 o'clock in the morning the equipage of Philip D. Armour, the dressed- beef king of Chicag®, stovs in front of the great Home Insurance building, on La Salle street, and a portly gentleman with a florid face and carefully trimmed side whiskers steps to the pavement. Mr. Armour prefers riding in 9 plain surrey, but always insists on driver being liveried. In stormy weather, however, he seaches his office in the handsome | cloved family carriage. Once in a while he walks down, but this is not often, though years ago, when Mr. Armour less resembled in girth some of the enormous porkers he slaughters at his vards, he was an indefatignble pedestria | The dressed-beef king undoubtedly arrives earlier at his office than any other prominent | business man in Chicago. As already inti- | mated he is pfien at his desk by 7 o'clock in the | morning, and at can almost invariably | find him there. And the gentleman ins his clerks shall be equally early and 1 Woe be to the tardy emplove whose derelicti comes to the attentignoof Mr, Armour. For a | his apparent xternniess, however, the leading | member of the Four” is a’ kindly man, | al:hough he will pot be imposed upon. the office the present of a good bu of clothes. There is suit rhall not exceed in cost #40. bich sam,it is rightly considered.a very han some every-day outfit ean be purchased. But |one new clerk? upon being tol tailor, ike his selecti an to Mr. He called for the young man who had contracted it, and that ile overspread- mpending ‘its you well, eh? blandly. xecedingly well, sir,” replied the clerk, | rather «urprised by this line of questioning. | “sWell," said Mr. Armour slowly, in that “ve seen a | great many hogs in my day, but you are the tone I ever cxme seross, gan to hunt for a new job. Palmer ix getting to be a pretty old man, and he doesn't get down to business as eariy in the morning as he used to when he was struggling to make a success of his hotel ven- ture. Ten or 11 o'clock is ax early ax he arrives upon the scene of action. or iy it noon before he puts in an appearance. Mr. Palmer travels in a jandsome carriage, driven by @ white coachmdh in immaculate | Once in a while Mr. Palmer walks from Lake Shore drive palace to | his office tor weeks « condescend ae. b rmed gets down town in a little po oi ee siderable speed. Mr. dicted to fast not be trusted to do it all. You or your wife | "| iron into gold f nd that day the clerk with the 85 suit be- | his | his hotel, but this is MAKING GOLD BY ARTIFICE. T HAS OFTEN BEEN STATED, AND ny | with truth, that modern chemistry ts im Aebied for mach of its knowledge to the al iI chen.ists of old, whose experiments for the pur~ pose of making gold by artifice were extraordinary to the atmost point of absardity, Some of them actnally attempted to imprison the sun's rays, which they tried to eslcine > powder, the rays being supposed to consist pure golden sparks. Others sought to obtain the philosopher's stone, which was to trans mute all other metals into gold, from honey, sugar, wine, blood and even from rain water. Dead bodies were dng up from their graves and saltpeter was extracted from them to serve as an ingredient. Still others believed that gold grew from seed, other metals merely furnish- ing a fruitful soil in which the yellow germs developed like plants, | Ina work now rare, called the “History of Ancient Pharmacy,” it ix mentioned that Rey- mond Nally was auid to hav pound: of mereary inte ing Edward TI, and that from this «apy the yellow metal the first rose nobles were | coined. The credibility of the story is some- wha! diminiched, however.by the circumstance tat the same monarch was soon after obliged to coin money from his own and che queen's crown and from the golden vosels of charches and cloister. It ix gravely recorded that the Emperor Frederic Ill,on January 15. 164%, at Vrague, changed three pounds of mercury im twoand one-talf pounds of gold by means of one grain of a lead powder given to bi man named Richthausen, He created this man not Chaos and from the gold a medal was made which bore au iuscription referrit origin. artificial This medal was long pre- med to death. He pre $1,000,000 worth of gold each spared. In the presence of witnesres Pay- changed six ounces of lead inte gold by means of & tincture which contained antimony, | sulphur and saltpeter among other ingredients. Out of this gold medala stamped: but Paykull must have failed in subsequent at- tempts, because he was afterward executed. If this goose had beon able to lay real golden eggs itis to be presumed that he would not _ have met with «o melancholy @ fate. THE BUSINESS OF MANUFACTURING GOLD in those days secms to have boon an extremely {dangerous one, commonly bringing petsous who pursued it to a violent death. George Honauer promised to transform 3,600 weight of the P of Wurtemburg. nT © detected a boy, who had been con- cealed in the laboratory, in the act of pw d into the crucible. “He # | an iron gallows to be constructed from which the imprudent fakir was hanged in 1697. Two ther gokimake from this same gallows at Stuttgart in 1606 and 1738, Teapectively. Tn 1677.4 man named Krohnemann entered | the service of the | with the rank of col tion asa gold maker | the mint and min | pected of fraud, tha’ had stolen gold and silver from the treasury of the margrave for use in the decep- tion. He wax condenmed tbe hanged. A quack named/Daniel supplied Italian apoth- ith a wouderful gold powder, called ich was suppored to have aston- ishing medicinal valne. “Pretending that the art of compounding thix usufur, with other drags, was a mystery known only to bim- self, he directed “his patients not to permit the ‘apotheraries to mix the ine gcedients of his prescriptions, but to buy them, including the usufur, and bring them to him | for putting together. He mixed the drags, | Omitting the usufur, in which manner he #uo- ceeded in having restored to him the gold pow= | der, previously sold by him ata high price to | the apothecaries. The powder soon became | famous, and the quack finally offered to teach | Duke Cosmos IT of Florence the art of making | gold. The duke paid Daniel 20,000 ducats tor | the secrot and the swindler fled to France with m | the ones Count Cajetan, in 1705, in the presence of | Frederick I of Prussia, changed one pound of | mercury into gold by means of a red tincture, Subsequently he promised to make 26.000. worth of gold in six weeks, but, failing to t— 4 | his word, he was hanged, draped in gold leaf, of dealing pri | which became the customary method with alchemists. The tribe of alcherniats ix not yet entirely oxtinet. In 1880.an American named Vise duped a member of the Roban family and a collateral descendant of the “Necklace ," whom Caglioxtro deceived by to make guid. "Wise got a conidcsalte camel money from Rohan and decamped. | Oulv a few days ago the writer picked up « little painphiet on’ book stall in Rew York’ which fontaine’ several pages of advertixements of a ul for transtauting other metals into gold, the price being only €5. > | THE SUMMER COTTAGE. Its Growth in Size and in Importance During Recent Years. From Herper's Weekly, There have been signs during the current season of mativation that the institution knowm as the summer hotel has reached the height of ite popularity and power in this country and that its continued progress is more likely to slant down than up. The reason i# not that city families ure learning to spend their sum- mers at home, for they flock to the Inkes, the mountains and the seashore in greater num- bers than ever, but a smaller proportion of them live in hotels and a considerably greater proportion in cottages. At Bar Harbor this season several of the largest hotels have re- mained cloved, not because the vogue of Mount | Desert has waned, for it was never so much the j fashion, but chiefly because the island is | fall of cottages and the “best people” live in | them. thereby damaging the direetiy | the loss of their own patronage and indirectly by censing to serve them as | bait, ‘The tendeney which is illustrated exceptional degree at Bar Harbor ix ge: r the majority of the summer nda natwral and commendable ten- ‘The part of the population t ‘hit is Most essential to get out of town are the women and children. end for them hotel | life, even in the summer, ix decidedly a sece | best expedient. The American hotel bred in- with whom Mr. Henry Jamer in the carlier years of his literary industry vive outside of the fiction of ne ca Without admitting that it ever was a very prevalent + it is mute ene | assume that the my is iia | enabled to