Evening Star Newspaper, October 1, 1892, Page 7

“THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON. D. C., T URDAY, ——_ BEB” 1, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. RAC 7 IU COMMERCE OF BRAZIL. Relations of the Republic With the United States. ABSURD TARIFF SYSTEM. Where Seven- the of the World's Supply of India Kabber Comes From—The Won. derful Province of Amazones—How Imml- grants Were Keceived—A Wall of Verdure. COURSE, from The Starty Traveling Commissioner Pana, Buazrs., August 15, 1892. MONG ALL THE wath American repub- lice this newest one is most anzious to culti- vate friendly relations with the United States. Being Portuguese,unlike the others, it is least under the commercial control of England, be- cause Great Britain long ago alienated the Brazilians by her course the mother country in the S« can troubles, and then the United States is by far the largest con- eumer of coffee and india rubber, the prineipal cts of Brazil reign trade can never be very prosper- ous in this country until some radical changes have been made in ber customs laws. For ex- ample: Suppose you should buy a few curi- osities to send home as “recuerdogs de Brazil.” Yo not get them ont of Para without Paying an export duty of 17 per cent on thet cont of the arti the exorbitant local valu- m, and on many other things the tariff is On the beautiful woods for which are orld with the the next thousan 2 25 to 40 per cent, and that there is very little de- t to foreign We mock bi which Brazil abundant ¢ finest “cabine a yet totally untouched of mahogany, rose, tulip rare varieties—ought to become valu- pert HOW DUTIES ARE COLLECTED. At Para, in addition to the Bouse duties. there is a1 carried between the neighboring provinces, so that all native p jons and home manu- leave the country factures are ily burdened before they On foreign goods the im- port duties are from 5 tg.80 per cent on the original vaduasion, varying according to the the times in the HF of “raising revenue, and also upon the ca- ce of the officidls through whose hands they Eeppem to pam, oo that out’ importer, may ‘be compelled to pay a good deal more than a1 ether on the same line of articles or the same sy double the price on the same thing at mt time. Bribery is universally prac- te effort at concealment and a advance an im- iy expect to be highly f collecting revenues is udy-made clothing, for ording to its weight, with value of the material, so “shoddy” garments pay the finest qnality. length of the soles; and lasses are compelled to ted, for the immense bro- foot, which bas the ankle set dle of it, cost several times as v's French kid slippers. And al hase thousand ways of im- n foreigners and making them pay @ event confiscation of their goods for alleged false billing. Thus if a box of Stove bolt or screws come labeled “belts,” ft may be beld the receiver compelled to plan o more than thowe F according to | we na thy lower perampulate baref: wane of the negr the mi: va beary because it was not marked ews.” and vice versa, according to the whime of the customs officers. Dried fish and @ried meat of which enormous quantities are Feceived at this port, both for consumption in Pare and oiber towns farther up the Amazon age fruitful sources of trou! Everybody Knows that fish and meat may be dried by smoke or in the sunor by the two processes combined, and if the shipping bill does uot ex- Prewly state these particulars any ignoramus Lm ro f with a little Cantorhy conceruing the @ustoms who has not been ‘seen’ to his entire satisfaction may not only refuse to deliver up fhe goods to their rightful owner, but may eetually pusish the latter by fining uim for ly elae’s sin of omission. Mow IMMIORANTS WERE DECEIVED, A few years ago s company of twenty-five or thirty farmers and their families from the United States were induced by the lavish prom- fees of some immigration bureau to settle in Bracil. Many of them invested all their money fm farming implements and wagons. expecting to revolutionize agriculture down here in a Burry; but when arrived in the land of promise they found that there were enormous duties on ali such personal property. in some instances emounting to much more than the fret cost of the articies, and that they would not be allowed te move one of them from the cussom house £ boy knows, Brazil has the United States, but with | ity of the African deserts, INTERIOR OF A PRIVATE HOUSE IN PARA. Shoes | | Anglo-Saxon grit, industry and perseverance— not, as in the temperate zone, to make the | land yield anything. but to cope with and to | keep down the surprising energy of nature. And—heaven be theaked® the nerth is not yet so crowded that Anglo-Saxons need tackle the tropical jungles and consort with serpents and savages to make a living. TRE GREAT UNKNOWN TERRITORY. As now known to the commercial world Brazil is looked upon as a comparatively nar- row strip along the Atlantic ocean, running from French Guiana, a few miles north of the equator and the movth of the Amazon river, to Uruguay, thirty degrees south of the equator. All the rest of the vast republic, except a little strip along the river ns, fs unbri for- ests backed by mountain ranges, and what lies bebind the mountains no civilized human be- ing knows. Atleast one-fifth of Brazil is yet as complete a terra incognita asthe heart of Africa without » Stanley. and one-third is un- trodden tropical jungle in which white men could not possibly live during a greater part of the year—where huge snakes and wild beasts and venomous insects abound, where y creeping and fi creature a dangerous sting. The great river and ite affluente drain an area of (2,900,000 A ne square miles, and the annual inundation is \ more-wonderful than that of the Nile. If the j flood comes suddenly the traveler, drifting safely along midstream in one of the regular steamers, may see trees occupied by enormous serpente, beasts and birds—all hostilities temporarily suspended between natural enemies by the common peril of the deluge. Baron umbolt says of it: “If the name of ‘primeval | forest’ can properly be given to any spot on the face of the earth it is in the basin of the Ama- zou. There is @ sea of verdure in which one may draw a circle twelve hundred miles in diameter, which includes an always green, unbroken for- jest. The variety of and beautiful trees | is bewildering—s wild race of vegetable giants, all draped, festooned, corded, matted and rib- boned with climbing and creeping plants inend- lest variety. But these tangled forests offer a bar to civilization almost as great as the steril- i This part of Brazil known as the Amagpnia district (1 rived. tbeall-pervading river Para as its capital, is indeed a ynderland. | Ite soil is so extremely fertile that the great | difficulty in making any agricultural use jot it is to repress nature, and it re- | quires sternal vigilance to prevent cultivated {lauds from going back to primeval forests, From itat least seven-eighths of the world’s pro- duction of india rubber is imported, and though ite rich territory covers an area equal in extent to all that part of the United States east of the Rocky mountains practically noth- ing else is produced, becanse rubber gathering is so much more remunerative than any other employment that it absorbs almost the entire labor of the country. THE IMMENSE AMAZONIAN VALLEY. The great Amazonian valley has already about 50,000 miles of available river nav ‘igation | and another 10,000 might be added to the vast system of waterways by constructing a few hvndred miles of railway around the rapids of the Madeira, Tapajos and Tocautins rivera, Para, the gateway which opens all this to the world, is the nearest port in South America to the United States, commercially speak: not geographically, the distance to New York being a little less than 3,000 miles by the direct route now regularly traversed by the United States and Brazil line of steamers. At present there is only one steam railway in all Ama- zonia, the nea river line, which runs forty ‘miles out from Para and’ ends in. the wilderness. Its prospective terminus is Bar- ganca.a large new town about eighty miles northeast of Para, but it is doubtful if it ever gets there. ‘The road has never yet paid. half its running expenses, and the deficit is made up from the public treasury, Except in a very small portion of southern Brazil there is no population back of the coast to support rail- wrare_only along the rivers, where water trans- portation is cl te We spent a pleasant day going over sie Bara- gnoca road. | Itty narrow gauge, with rolling stock of English make, and sends but one train And that is quite enough, for there is one village of any consequence along the line and the district seems tobe almost unin- | habited. ‘Though extremely tiresome the trip |is worth making for the sake of sceing the forest, the entire distance, except a little space which has been laboriously cleared on either | side of the tract, being by impenetrable |Jungle. The novelty of it is perpetual, for there are trees of infinite variety, come with j trunks, others honeycombed. others larger above than below, some reared upon roots, some buttressed upon narrow | stilts of slabs of living sont’ phe nt twenty feet | from the magnificent they u) bun- | dreds of palms and Mette, toe he 0 tree than a hundred feet % all st ht ith trunks that diam- A SOLID WALL OF VERDURE. ‘Though they send forth no branches till near the top, it looks Mea solid wall of verdure down to the ground, for to their summits the tallest monarchs of the forest are covered with undred feet below, lichens and orchids in endair. Often s Itie: eonds sod foliage far absve the tae 1s hos sociod, ana then leaps eo weaving an in- tricate. looks like the wails of of the forest Some standing sbnt out fhe light, and cushioned to no- body knows damp moss and beds of end rich as velvet. At the walk into the or can for —— not be many nm C ive, for earth to melenc! solemn twilight of primeval forest You feel as 2 low: bov. h have pro- duced the incredible luxuriance of vegetation. Everywhere are darting insects and lizards like tongues of fire, wonderful butterflies and bright-winged but songless birds. The beauti- ful wilderness is prolific of reptiles and insect life and of four-footed beasts, too, but you ate not likely to sua aay of the latter, though bere ing eyes may be glaring at you from the thick- ete. " “ ‘annie B. Warp. ——___+e+ A QUESTION OF THE FUTURE. At What Date Will the Earth Be Entirely Peopled? From Goldthwsite's Geographical Magazine. In order to answer,this query at all satisfac- torily it is necessary to determine: First. The present population of the world and ite probable increase, Second. The area capable of being cultivated for the yield of food and other necessaries of life. Third. The total number of people whom these lands would be able to maintain. I need hardly point out that & precise answer to these apparently simple questions is well nigh impossible. TRE PRESENT POPULATION OF THE WORLD. This is a fundamental question for the in- quiry proposed, but it is quite impossible to reply to it with any amount of confidence, Enumerations of the people have been made in all civihzed states, but with respect to parts of the world we are still completely in the dark. Of Africa we know next to nothing, while the long array of figures presen| me the results of a, consus taken in China are not calculated to inspire confidence. I ave taken some caro to form a true estimate of the population of Africa, and I cannot believe in that continent supporting more than 127,000,- 000, instead of the two, three or even four & | hundred millions allotted to it by certain stat- isticians. Even 127,000,000 is a high figure, for it means eleven people to the equare mile, in Australia there are not one and a South America five only. ‘THE WORLD'S POPULATION 1x 1890. le half and in I shut out from consideration all those terri- tories of the polar regions which lie beyond the limits within which the cultivation of cere- als is possible. I divide the remainder of the Jands of the globe into three regions. ‘The first I describe as fertile, meaning it it is fertile so far only as within it lies most of the land which is capable of remunerative cultivation. It cannot be assumed for an instant that the whole or even the greater part of it could ever be converted into fields yielding the fruits of th My second ‘region includes the ,"” or poorer grass lands ithi e “fertile” region we meet with tively sterile tracts, so within these the earth ite} ‘steppes” there exist large areas which can be rendered highly productive, especially where means for irrigating the land are available. The third re- gioh includes the deserts, within which fertile Oases are few. The area of these regions in estimate as follows, exclusive of , juare miles I e polar re- = STRANGE STORY OF MR, JONES, built and distinguished looking, with a blonde mustache. As he alighted at the corner he appeared somewhat puzzled. ’ ' “Let me see—wns this my street?” he asked himself, roflectively, looking around for a sign ons lamp post. “By Jove! I've quite forgotten what street it was that I was going to get off at. I intended—no, that wasn't it, What was I going to do any way? I positively think that I am getting more absent-minded every dny. Pehaw; this is too absurd. I say, boy, what street is this?” A boy of twelve, swinging a school book on the end of a leather strap, paused to ‘‘size up” the stranger and answered briefly: “Tremont street.” Then he passed on, leaving the man with the blonde moustache apparently more puzzled than e Vell, this beats the Dutch!” he exclaimed. “This Ron pee is strange to me. I don't understand it at all. I suppose thore’s nothing to do but to turn around and go back. Let me see, where was I last? Upon my word I can't remember, Now, this is gotting to be perfectly ridiculous! When I started out thie morning I went firat—where did Igo? That's another co- nundrum! By jous! I don't even recollect where Ihadmy breakfast. Heolaltogether queer oq lumyasit Thad waked up suddenly fn a strange city. And, now I think of it, what town is this? It doesn't look a bit familiar. The fact is, I am clean lost—strayed altogether out of reckon- ing. It would be rather amusing, being o unique sort of situation, only that the sensation is unpleasantly like dreaming by daylight. am gratified to observe that 1 am appropriately attired, inasmuch as in actual dreams I have more than once imagined myself walking along crowded thoroughfares with little or nothing on. Here comes a car that will take me back in the direction Icame from. Tl board “Conductor!” said he when he had jumped upon the rear platform, “I want to go to the take the first nearest hotel.” “Get off at the third corner Tight and the first left and you'll strike the Adams House,” replied the official concisely, punching the fare. “Never heard of the Adams House,” seid the ‘tranger, to himself this time. “So that doesn't enlighten me as to my whereabouts. However, the only thing possible is to go abead, This is certainly « most astounding predicament.” After going wrong once or twice he finally reached the hotel in question and dropped his traveling bag on the counter by the desk. You kindly let me see the directory of a adding, “of this city, mind you, not any other.” ‘ebrows slightly, as if surprised at the emphasis put upon so commonplace @ request, and handed over the bulky volume. He further remarked, with that the visitor did not open erely looked hard at the letter- ing on the back, surrendering it thereupon. “So this is Boston!” remarked the stranger half aloud. “This is Boston, sir,” echoed the olerk po- I Judge thet you have never visited “Will you register? “Certainly, with pleasure,” responded the stranger, accepting the proffered he out to write his nam 9 aused, bit the penhandle as if embarrassed, nd finally, with the air of a person taking » sudden resolve, wrote awkwardly across the age “John Jones,” leaving the space for resi- lonce blank. The clerk quickly assigned him ® room, a colored ‘‘boy” about sixty years of ‘age brought along the traveling bag, and pres: THE POSSIBLE POPULATION. ‘The task of estimating the number of people whom this earth of ours would be capable of supplying with food and other necessariés of life, once it had been fairly brought under oul- tivation, is very difficult. More ‘are at present some vegetarians. These would maintain that if their peculiar views were accepted three men could Hve ‘where one lives now, and there would be uo further need of keeping up herds of cattle and sheep. I am not sufficient utopian to believe that mankind generally ever accept these principles. Again, it has been asserted that our present methods of custivation are capable of vast im- provement; that the earth might be made to Yield much larger harvests than it yields now, and that population might thus be permitted to increase without correspondingly increasing the cultivated areas. ‘Thie is ne doubt true a respects many countries, but it is hardly true of the world at large. Making all reasonable allowance, however, for these suggestions, I take as a basis for my estimate the standard of life, such as we find it existi various cl and among various peuples. Upon this basis I calculate that the “fertile regions” would be able to support 207 human beings to the square mile, the present mean population of those regions. | ¢ ‘The “steppes,” with their large tracts of land capable of cultivation. I believe to be capable of supporting ten inhabitants to the square mile, while the ‘“‘deserts” would be fully peo- pled if they bad even one inhabitant to a square mile. I do not take into consideration the coloniza- tion of tropical regions by Europeans, because Tam constrained to maintain thut the tropical | regions are no field for European emigrant and because it is not necessary that the co sumer of food should live in the country which produces it. From all these considerations I assume that this world of ours, if brought fully into culti- vation, can supply 5,994 million human bein, with food and other necessary products of the vegetable kingdom, THE INCREASE OF POPULATION. On this point not only are our statistics still very incomplete, but conditions, social or other- wise, may arise which would materially affect the present movement of the population. Weigh- ng all the data to be had, and carefully con- sidering all the causes which are at all likely to give an impetus to the growth of population or Tetard it in the various quarters of the world, I assume that the increase in the course of a de- cade will amount to 10 per cent. Summarized the resulta of my carefal esti- ing, if | Aus CONCLUSION. Accepting these figures as correct, it be- comes an easy matter to compute the increase of the population. By the close of this cen- tury the 1,468 millions who now dwell uj the earth Will have increased to 1,587 millions; in the year 1950 there will be 2,333" millions; in the year 2000, 3,426 millions, and in the year 2072, or 182 years hence, there will be 5.979 millions. mee ‘estimates are not presented as & prophecy. I have already hinted at volunt checks to the growth of population which will come into play as ci ad and the demands for the comforts of this lite shall be more general. At all events, so far as we are personally concerned, 182 years is long Period to look forward to; but if we look bac! similar number of years and remember that William ULand Maril were then stilt among us, we are bound to admit that it is but ‘@ short period in the lifetime of a nation. After the Wedding. Mra. Ketchon.—“I'll wager you what you like the bride will wear the breeches.” ntly he found himself alone in a cozy iment looking out upon a crowded street. kintowchair, buried his face in his hands, and Zemaiued Sn that attitude for several inutes, Tose to feet and eC back and forth. a “By the great horn spoon!” bo. exclaimed, “I have heard of things Hke this, but it never occurred to me to imagine that I'could be the Victim of seh a contretomps. I nea myself aay to the clerk down etalrs of entirely forgetting orie's own na: that is nothing’ Any fellow ‘can get along without a name, but I seom to have lost my identi T can't remember who I am. ply maddening! If ‘my situa- tion were discovered I might—very’ likel would-be locked up in a lunatic asylum. ¥ must keep it secret at all hazards, Ab! T have an idea! This is merely a question of subjec- tive identification. Dead people are usual: identified by articios in thelr poekets or initials on thefr clothing. Queer that I shouldn't hav thought of that before. I'll try the valise tiret — must be something in that to give a clue.” With feverish haste he prossed the spring of the traveling bag und” opened it, emptying ont the contents on the bed. There were two clean shirts, a pair of clean stockings, four clean col- lars, four pairs of clean cuffs, a brush and comb, a nail brush,» tooth brush,» piece of soap, a mightehirt and nothing more. Not one Of these articles bore any mark save for lana: dry numbers on the linen. “That's unlucky,” said the young man, “But of course I ought to have tried my pockets first. Here's a wally ‘Thank heaven, it's full of bille—four hundrll—five bundred—dive hun- dred and forty-two dollars. It's bad qnough to be without an identity, but to be dead-broke simultaneously would be aw- ful. Nevertheless, I would give every cent of the money for ene small business or private memorandum that would tell me my name and residence. I can’t find so much au & sorap of paper—not an envelope of an old let- ter. It's positively astonishing. Possibly there are some marks on the clothes I am wearing. Here's o tag inside the coat collar—‘Smith & Smith, Merchant Tailors.’ That's something, though it is unfortunate that the town or city wherein Messrs. Smith & Smith bang out their ign is not mentioned.” ‘After spending half an hour more in a minute exumination of all his belongings, going through his pockets at least fifty times, he dressed himeelf carefully and went down stairs. ‘Lunatics are usually careless about their ap- parel,” he said to himself, “and if I am to suc- ceed in keeping away from. the asylum it will Dehoove me to take pains with iy dress. By the way, the unpleasant idea obirudes itself upon my consciousness that possibly I may be an escaped inmate of some madbouse—a harm- less patient, perhaps, who has eluded the watch- fulness of the keeper with a cunning that is so gommonly charécteristio of mental alienation. 8) that, instead of writing my nameon the hotel register aa ‘John Jones! of sowhers; I had put myself down as the King of the Canni- bal Islands. The police would have had me inside of twenty minates, What an extremely narrow escape that would seem to have been. “On second thoughts,” he continued, “the theory that {am an dunatic is hardly 78 permission of the ‘authorities, though Tor how ong T shall stay v0 remains to be weet, Meare while I will try to seem at my caso and as much ‘a8 possible like other people. I must, remem- bet that my name ‘fs, John Jones, and that T came from-let us say Chicago. Noone. who does not know me can contradict that,and iE meet anybody ‘who is ac. shall ‘be only too delighted. Twill any," athe will Yoply, Gertatahy, oT take yo fo an reply, “ a P eye. Santa Claus, Tengen st speaking. : Upon my word, that’s not cheerful,” said ‘bearded man. “My name is Farquhar— k Farquhar. Now, should you take it amiss if I invited you to play a game of bil- | liards? I've nothing to do myself for an hour ands ill pes the time.” Poni be delighted * replied disant Mr. Joneas = Five minutes later the two men were knock- ing the balls about at three-ball caroms. Al- though Mr. Jones was evidently the more ex- making from time to time an exceptionally Erittiant shot, he p ved nervously and irresu- larly, so that his opponent beat him two games of fifty pointe up tn succession. Finally Mr. Farguhar said: - you've got enough of this. it’s 5:30 o'clock now. “Since you are such an entire stranger here very likely you bave nothing in Particular to do. What do you say to com: with me and taking dinner at my house: Pot luck, you know.” “‘I shall be delighted,” responded Mr. Jones. “It is most kind of you to offer hospitality to a Person so entirely unknown to you as myself.” “Oh, we are not quite so stiff as most Bos- tonians of the conventional type,” laughed his new acquaintance. ‘Iam a bachelor, and you will meet only my sister.” “T shall bave to come as I am.” “Of course. No evening dress is requisite. You will be received quite informally, I assure you, and must content yourself with a plain dinner. If vou are ready we will walk along without further delay.” ‘Ton minutes’ brisk walk brought the two com- panions to their destination—a cozy little house around a corner from Mount Vernon street. Farquhar took Jones into what he-alled his “den”—a typical bachelor’s apartment, lined with books and adorned with all sorts of pipes, various curious weapons and bunting trophies, which last the owner had procured during an expedition through far western wilds, Having smoked a cigarette together they went down stairs and the guest was introduced in thedraw- ing room to Misa Farquhar. His first impression was that she was alto- gether the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. ihe was very blonde, with eyes of that rare blue which is likened ‘to the violet. was of the pearliest teeth imaginable were re- vealed. ‘Her hair, gathered in a simple knot at the back of her head in the classical style, set off to advantage the pure outline of her profile. She was rather under than above ihe middle height, her figure having the graceful round- ness which tall* women usnally lack. Nothing could be more engaging than the sweet sim- plicity of her manner, at once cordial and mod- est without consciousness, Jones correctly surmised that she was about twenty years ol: At the table she did the houors charmingly. In the beginning of conversation she addressed to Jones s number of polite and not inquisitive questions respecting himself; but finding him reticent concerning his ‘own affairs she turned the talk into other channels. To his own sur- prise, the guest found himself completely at ease ‘and Was Pleasantly diseoursing fluently on abstract topics, having a great deal to say in fartioular ebout, certain curiosities of marine fe, faunal and floral.which appeared to greatly interest bis host and hostess. Both of them were students of natural history; and they were astonished at the wide range of information ex- hibited by their visitor. Infact in the society of these charming People Jones completely forgot for the time eing his own unfortunate situation, and. when he came to take his departure ‘at last, he eagerly accepted their pressing invitations to come again and see them. That night he re- turned to the hotel with alight step and in a very cheerful frame of mind, only losing his way three times during the journey. The next morning he got up early and sent to Miss Farquhar from the florist’s a costly bouquet of roses, Her nose Tl, “Miss Farquhar—Madeleine! May I call you by that name onee more?” “I don’t know about that, Mr. Jones. Don’ you think it is a very cool request?” “I dare say. But please do not joke with me. Tam inno mood for it. The fact is, Made- Jeine—Mise: Farquhar, I'mean—I am in's most horrible situation.” “Goodness! You alarm me, Mr. Jones.” “Believe mo, Lam not speaking in jee. T find myself in n predicament that is almost incon- ceivably distressing. What I wish to ask of you is sympathy and advice.” “If you are really serious, Mr. Jones, [ask your pardon. My sympathy’ you may be sure df, andeuch advice as I can offer is at your @ service.” “No man, Miss Farquhar, was ever in ter need of both than I am at present. Until I have hada chance to fully explain myself do not indulge surprise that I should appeal to you, who twelve z+ became acquainted with me for the first time:”” “We have come to know each other well since then, I think,” said the girl, with a touch of softness in her voice. “You have been most good to me. But, al- though we have reached a wonderful and to myself: most happy intimacy in that time, you know nothing about my personal affairs’ and circumstances. You wre even ignorant-as to whoTam. To you I am but a stranger, re- ceived within your gates through the kindness and hosp‘tality of yourself and your brothe “I cannot permit you to call yoursel stranger to us, Mr. Jorits. You have won your own way with us, and both myself and my brother have come to be greatly iaterested in rou and to entertain a ch ith your private concerns we ba do, and it has never occurred to us to make in- quiries respecting them.” “But what should you say, Miss Farquhar, if Ttold you that Imyself do not know who T am?” “I would say that you were speaking in rid- jes, Mr. Jones." “I am stating tho simple and actual fact, Miss Farquhar. Did you ever read in the pers one of those accounts which some- times are printed of people who turn up after | P. having disappeared. for years, during which they forgot bout their former lives and took up a new existence without any recollec- tion of the old? For example, you may remem- ber the case reported in the public prints not Jong ago of a business man in a Connecticut town who vanished and, as was subsequently found, resided for six years in another com- munity in the same state, having no’ remem- ‘brance whatever of his former abode or fam- ily.” . “Now that vou speak of it I do recall that very curfous story, which interested me at the time. ell, Miss Farquhar, Iam in position to sympathize with that man, for I find myself at pond moment in circumstsnces precisely sim- fection, and when she smiled two rows | ¢, +} ‘g.| of Undisputed social supremacy. to his beart and devoured her lips with kisses. ‘Then, holding her off « little way for a moment, he said: Jobe'tt Perbaps—nay, probably—my namo isn’t john. “Never mind,” she replied archly. “There isn’t a more beautiful or more romantic name an the world than Johu Jones. As for your identity. thoagh you do very well without it, I will help youto find it, if yon wish, Ob, gra cious! there is my brother. I hear his key turn- ing in the lock of the front door. Quick, let us compose ourselves with propriety. As you were saying, Mr, Jones———}"" mm. A jolly burst of laughter was heard os the front door opened. There was a sound as of hats and sticks being stowed in the entry rack,’ and Mr. Frederick Farquhar strode into the drawing room, followed by a little and very fat old gentleman with a kindly expression and a twinkling eve. The latter shook hands with ‘Miss Farquhar and then, turning to be intro- duced to'her companion, started back in evi- dent astonishment. “Why, Wilfred Morti he gasped. “By all that is amazing, how is it that | find you here? Why have you not answered my letters? Your sisters in New York are in the greatest alarm sbout you and they sent mo on bere to see if I could not discover. your whereabouts. “Do you mean to say that this is our cousin Wilfred?” exclaimed Mr. Farquhar. “What do You mean, you scamp, by coming to the house of your ‘own relations im the guise of a stranger?” “My. dear Dr. Thompsop and my cousins also,” said the erstwhile Mr. Jones, “I am not fo guilty aa I seem. At some future time I will explain it all to you. Meanwhile permit me to inform you that Iam engaged to marry Made- way “The boy always was given to nonsensical ES declared the ‘other, beaming, after ‘congratulated the young Indy and her brother had bestowed a Dares her. “I was rather dubious as to my choice of an agent when I sent him on here from New York s fort- night ago for the purpose of effecting some Sort of settlement with yourselves in rd to the will of your mutual great grand He is entirely too harum-scarum for « business man, and his very recént recovery from a brain fever did not seem calculated to #tendy his head. Although the testament in question di- vides nearl: ly between yourselves and him, per itch that needed settlement, lest a pos- dimgreament should ceuse delay and ex- pe under the present happy circum- stances, on which I cordially felicitate you all, it is bardly necessary to bother about any further steps in the matter.” “Everything came back to me the moment I heard myself addressed by my name,” whis- red Wilfred to Madeleine as she went in to inner on his arm half an hour later, “You wre sure now that you aren't married alread, , slyly. “Quite so, deatest,” he answered. “Well, then, Iam ready to confess—"" “Confess what, my own?” “That Mrs. Wilfred Mortimer iss prettier name than Mrs. John Jones.” e _— MEN'S DRESS. Important Changes in England and France. ‘From the London Standard. There are certain indications of an approach- ing revolution in the dress of Englishmen. This meaton has seen many changes which, though trifling im themeelves, point to others yet to come. The alteration in the fashion of riding dress has already been referred to as tending largely to the picturesque, and the remftting of the once binding law of black coat and silk hat for afternoon wear in town in favor of brown boots, tweed suits and straw hats as more suit- able for August and September also points in the same direction. As to river dress, its develop- re per yo pg months have been all side of-cgfor and pictorial effect. The really retfarkable development of the tweed manufacture in Great Britain has been a factor in adding color to men's dress. Some twenty years ago such suits were worn solely by sportsmen, and then only when they were en- in sport. Now no wardrobe is complete withous its —— of tyreeds, serges and flannels, Tweed, as known some fifteen years | Pedestrian Journey. | SOME UNIQUE INCIDENTS. People Met With on the Read and What They Seid Places of Interest Visited and istoric Recollections Brought to Mind— | Hospitality That Was Appreciated, NE OF A PARTY OF four government clerks | who made a pedestrian trip through Virginia | during their vacation thus tells of a day's tramp.through the val- ley: Leaving Harper's Ferry by Charlestown ee pike we passed through country which bears = onevery hand evidence of rural prosperity. The road is an exceptionally good specimen of so-called pike, substantially built, well roanded and ditched and in good repair. Banning, as it | does, through @ lime-stone country, there is | sbundance of material for roadmaking, and in | its construction brains as well as stone have | been used. During the whole trip we found the character of the roads passed over a fair in- dication of the character of the country and of the people. Where they were good farms and houses were in better condition, fine stock sbounded and the prosperity of the surround- ing country was evident. Where they were poor or neglected their condition was reflected in the settlements passed: Good roads are not only evidence of prosperity, but powerful fao- tors in bringing it about. They bri ote closer by making them more ible, save time and horse flosh, facilitate business and so- cial intercourse and are really quite as impor- teat ina Tural community as good railway fa- el AN OLD TOLL @aTE. On this pike we found that relic of a past sge—the toll gate—still in operation. Every stretch of five miles was marked by one of these mute protests against trade aud travel, Which a few years ago were thought the neces- sary accompaniment of good roads, In the present instance these dams in the channel of trafic were primitive affaira A long hung on # pivot in a forked stick, the short end balanced by a heavy stone, so that it may swing up and down easily, like an old well sweep. To the long end is tied a rope,by which the pole is pulled down to bar all progress un- til the tax gatherer has been satisfied, when it is released aud swings up by the weight of the ‘tone on the short end. It is rnde, but it works. At the first one an ambitious literary effort oot forth the charges, from which it appears that ‘sheap” can pass at cents head, with other charging and spelling in harmony. The buxor rosy girl who attended the gate seemed at a loss to classify our party. We certainly were neither horseback nor in wagon, nor yet could be cl xactly among auimals driven. Such thing asa man deliberately setting ont to go anywhere on foot was not contemplated by the framers of the tariff, consequently no rate was levied. She allowed us to pass free, but it was easy to see that whe believed that we were taking sn unfair advantage of the county. A RELIC OF THE WAR. A short distance from Halltown, on a hilltop which commands much of the surrounding country, there is a monument to the war and another to the new order of things which re- sulted from it. On one side of the road, on the tep of @ knoll, are the walls of an old stone school house, which at one time served as headquarters for Stonewall Jackson. It was the center of a sharp fight, and when the tide of battle surged around and over it only the bare walls were left. Roof, doors and windows were gone, and the scarred and battered wall dear mute testimony to the fierce attack and stubborn resistance that marked the transition from the old tothe new. The beautiful Vir- ginia creeper has grown over the ruins till it would seem that even nature strives to hide the marks and memories of the fratricidal conflict. Across the road is a monument with more pleasing sesocintions. It is a neat log cabin surrounded by trees and covered by a trailing gourd vine, owned and occupied by a freed- man family. A striking contrast, and yet each is necessary to the complete picture. ‘on the hill and the happy home across the wi two results of the war. ‘The last exists be- cause the first is. At Halltown we rested in a cool, shady meadow by a large «pring fall of and sur- ‘ago, wasadull and toneless mixture and brown. Now it embraces every possi warmth of tint, so much so as to make choice a matter of time and difficulty in many cases. The prevalence of the red tie of late years has ite own significance as showing the growing preciation of brightness of tint. Everythi: points toa new law of liberality in matiers of dress. There was once no appeal against the orthodoxy of black coats in tae house of com- mons, but the unwritten rule exists no longer. Members of stock exchange ar more conservative and resent any het- erodoxy in an unmistakable manner. Commercial men have their own laws and abide by them with some fixity. Society is, however, relaxing, and has been in the mood for some time, One effect of the changes that are taking place is to render the gilded youth of England somewhat uncertain as to how they shull array themselves on special occa- sious. Their experience and individual dis- cretion are not always sufficient to guide them, and there is considerable demand for a leader How to dress at the large and fashionable race meetings has been a problem exercising the minds of nota few of late. The rule used to be that on Cup day silk hats and black coats were indispen- sable, while on the other days of the various meetings country costume met ail requirements. This uo longer holds, for it has been infringed several times recently by the very men who most strictly abode by it some years ago. The Prince of Wales’ a, enough. When the princess accompanies him to any race meet- ing i wears strictly orthodox afternoon park dress, but when no ladies aro of his party he adopts the comfortable pot hat and country suit. As the public does not know when the rincess is to be present, they cannot be guided in the same way, and the result is a divergence of garmenture that troubles the sensitive on such matters, The invitation of an up-river vicar to boat- ing men to attend the services at his church in their flannels is another indication of the prevailing spirit of liberality in dress. of removal, and there &s come danger that a contrary extreme may in time be indulged in. For the presence of a man in a Nor- “Good heavens! Surely, Mr. Jones, you can- = not be in earnest.’ 1 probably have no juaint- | while Twill werike immediately for | “‘Ketchon.—‘I shouldn't wonder; I noticed | junstics to be she bad on suspenders.” — Puck. pn ean Pd ean a whose roots are grounded = the seventeenth century. ev coats have also been Te t ‘| i FE i rounded by that choice Virginia product— mint. It was of excellent quality, the mint, likewise the contents of the bottle carried by Alf to counteract possible snake bites, but the decoction did more than tickle the palat Two hundred yards away was » wheelwright's shop, and the mixture was bardly brewed beforé the grizzled owner appeared in his door with his Teather apron on, glanced up and dow: the road while he sniffed the breeze, hesitated as if in some doubt, and then asa little puff of wind bore the stronger fragrance of the mint he located us. As he came across the meadow Willis, who prides himself on his ability to read human nature, and who had studied up on war facts in order that he might have a never- failing topic of conversation, pointed bim out as the firet noble specimen of the confederate soldier we had met. step and his bearing proclaimed his martial ing: he lived be- cause death in the chance of battle had chosen Jess shining marks,but bis heart was buried with his fallen comrades and his lost cause. So Willis said. War memories did seem to strike a responsive chord in the old man's breast and he became reflective at once. THE BLACKSMITH'S RECOLLECTIONS. “Oh, yos, we see'd a heap o’ the war in these parts, Soldiers was @ marching here all the time, first one side and then the other, and it kept some of the gentry a hustling to change sides fast enough, ‘cause they always belonged to the side that had the most men about here. When they first began to talk of fighting the big families just reared and charged and talked common folks inte Vining the army right awar, but a neap of the big bugs reckoned they was too old to go in themselves. I lived up by "Squire Mawwey, then, and he wan Pine, but I said to hit ‘Squire, you've ot of ni The | he old restrictions seem to be gradually in course | in whore dere: et gite F TRAMPS. spain oro Mette if perience that the old fellow wan right. tricts here the colored people which ix somewhat and the race. Their proportion to the ¢ lntion i# pot large, but when they their alinremen! from the towns, wi Good class of citizens, H i j i ° i ness and evil, they make They have acquired little properties, carved out out of the ok! plantations, usually off the main roads, back in tho hills or rougher country, and they lead ec nted, useful lives, They are tilling tracts which otherwise would be waste, and the feeling of ownership makes them «conservative, self-supporting, law-abiding class. They havea pe interest in their homes, are neither servile nor unduly eelf-assertive in their con- tact with their white neighbors, and there cause for friction between the races in the districts of thie portion of the south at least, Quite a large clement of the older generation served in some capacity during the war and there are a good number of colored pensioners, The money thus received hes usually been wall eared for, much of it bei i who have found it convenient and profitable te thus ose of odd tracts of their too large farms. The older generation are thinning out, but those left tell stomes of checkered careers that can never again be paralleled in this coun- try, if in the world. The old fellow in the is an example. Born near Charlestown he was purchased from the block four times, the last sale taking him to the rice fields of Louisiana. Ass slave be labored in the wheat and tobacco felds of. Virginia, a: « mule driver im Tennessee, in the cotten’ fields of Georgia and finally in the cane and rice planta- tions of the gulf cosst. When the war come on he made his way into the federal lines, Joined | the ranks arkiserved asa soldier till ite close, when he in Pennsylvania to be sympathetic friends. He longed for the ol home, and at last when bir pension came be returned, bought «little plot out of the old Plantation on which be had labored and felt the . and now only asks to die « free man at the home where he was born a slave. There wase. touch of simple natare when he told of his old longings for bis Virginia bome. “But this is West Virginia now,” I said. “It's all old Virginny to me, sah. APPROACHING CHARLESTOWN, Approaching Charlestown we found the farm= ing country fora mile outside of the limit of building subdivided into town lots, with bigh- sounding avenues and streeta marked by Uitte white finger boards. For balf a mile back f-ora the pike there were rows of whitewashed tree boxes, marking the course of the streets of the future, Ata distance tt red to bee hillside cemetery closely dotted with , but near approach showed that it was «city on paper. Nets building mars it, net e epadefal of fresh earth blots the green hillside, while no human being disturbed the sleek | cattle browsing ou Prospect street or the fat ewine wandering up Central avenue. The rural solitude and simplicity of this thriving town was charming. Beyond the hill we found the actual town, occupying buta fraction of the space devoted to this imaginery city. It has two topics for conversation—its boom end its history—both past. Here Jobn Brown was brought from Harper's Ferry, jailed, tried and bung. Five minutes’ conversation with a native gives you all this, besides enlightening you upon the natural 'regsons why Charlestown will bea great city next year. The town may be sleepy, but ite real estate agents are not, and four dusty and travel-stained tramps were regarded as hopeful prey. One bed lots here, another there, and carriages and guides were at our disposal. In one thing thore was fave you seen the hotel?” Finest Unlimited given the other attractions of the town, first, but the hotel is beld for the last card. Itis the little joker of the game. course we saw it. It is set on hill, visible for miles, and conspicuous for ite monstrosities and hideous colorings. An tm- mense wooden barn-like building, with gables, dormer windows, French windows, attic win- dows, wind we in every posstble and impossible location, glowing with vari-colored paints, and without a tree or a background to relieve the Inside it may be as palatial as the boomers aver, but outside it is @ combination of archi- tectural jim-jams and chromatic nightmare. It is part of the boom, built by the improvement company as an advertisoment, and not because there is or ever was any demand for suche caravansary. THE OLD TOWN INTERESTING. The new town is crudeand uninteresting, but the old town is attractive. Like most of the towns slong these pikes, the road forms the main street, and it is well built, with old and substantial houses. The streets ‘are lined with trees, the houses surrounded with lawns and built in the old Virginia style, pillars and porches making a striking feature. is ap- it is parent in the solid walls and sedate thet abound. Named for Charles Washington, it the home of the direct representatives of the Washington frmily, a fact which is supposed to give it toneand dignity. A modern brick build- ing occupies the site where John Brown his prison hours, but across the street old court house where he was tried and condemned still stands. A lawyer came out of his office as we climbed the stone steps and, that we were sightseers, told us in his most awe-in- spiring tones that “John Brown was tried i this very building.” George questioned as to how it 60 well escaped the ravages of the war, oF had not been taken t — and our guide explained that the root was destroyed and the walls pretty well battered and torn down, still it was this very building, but “have you seen the hotel yet?” BRWw.a@ ——<— Written for The Evening Star. ; Automnal Joys. Im the mild, mellow days, when the summer ts ended, And leaves in the woods are beginning to turn, ‘When a shadowy mist with the suniigut is blended, And fires of sumach and sassafras burn, Ah, then for the times that are fullest of plessares, ‘That only the wealth-iaden Autumn can bring; When the ficids aud the forest are brimming with treasures ‘That never are known tn the blush of the spring. ‘There are black Autumn grapes, where the twisted vines clamber And wind through the oak boughs thelr sinuous trail; On the glade are persimmons of sugar snd amber, Aud sheilbarks aud chinkaplas patter like bail. And down by the mill, where the waters are gliding, And the song of the wheel on the dreamy air oats, Are fringes of thicket, where cozily hiding Are pawpaws, with sweetness just bursting their coats, Ob, Autumn, dear Autumn, how many have tal¢ you How sweet is your air, and how gracious you emile; Ané we, your admirers, giadly would bold you. From fleeing so quickly, and Keep you awhile. But we know you will leave us, with lite of warning, And all our entreaties be useless and vain; ‘We will bid you adieu on some still, icy morning, ‘When frost-Gowers bloom on the cold windew ‘pane. ‘No. 9657 Arsenal street, ————————— “I Hapx't heard that you'd been il, Gmith> on.”