Evening Star Newspaper, October 22, 1892, Page 10

THE EVENING STAR: i 3 D. C, SATURDAY. OCTOBER 22, 1892-SIXTEEN PAGES. MARKET? FRENCH RURAL LIFE. Scenes in the Country Side Near MANTES. less difference between | north of Frange and one in the United States than might be imagined, except that a place of nts in France will be as dead and quiet asan American village of less than 1,000 ‘Tourists familiar with cheerful lages, with their laughter, their songs and their musical beer gardens at night, northern France. are not an over-cheerful people, all Paris draws to itself Germany bas eran town is as town in the north ie as A great proportion of the ily the women, are intensely re- ligious are intensely athe- c and the religious are | sand suving. ¢ Mantes public amusement will not distract the tourist from the monuments and The great church and the river Seine | are ite two beauties, | ‘THE GREAT CHURCH OF MANTES. A church was standing on the «pot in the year 1087, when William the Conqueror took the siege it was burned. On ‘liam begueathed « large sum in its present form welfth century. The window and the country town in the will feel @ lack A TYPICAL dull as another. Ite Historic Old Charch and wlation—The Thrift of the People—small Cultivated — Women Who Farms Well Work tn the Fields. Gorvenpondence of The Bvening Star = Panis, Sept. 21, 1892. | Is A PIC 6,600 inhabitants, thirty miles from Paris in the direction of Rouen i» near to Normandy; and it was at the cap- ture of Mantes, in the year 1087, that William the Conqueror had the « of money to rebuild it. the church dates from the west facade hus a fine rose tal is richly carved. of @ na’ aisles and choir without | unusually bright, owing to | the absence of stained glass windows. nave round pillars alternate with clustered col- umns, some of which rise as high as the lof For many reasons Notre Dame de Mantes isa gothic church interesting to built at the eame time as Notre d the exterior retain transcepta. It h cansed his death. Mantes bas now a mag- nificent Gothic church which was built with William's money, and it has a fine old bridge, the river Seine and coun- try carriage drives the most charming that can be imagined. It would be well for burried tourists, who see nothing of France but Paris, to spend 8 day round about some town like this. The best way to reach Mantes is to start for some other town, say Pontoise. and miss the id miss the Mantes train and visit any other of a bundred rural towns within thirty miles of Would be the same. ‘chi. | bermi ~—— was the origi to have been built by | the architect of the Sainte Chapelle. Much has | faced old communi Or, if you shor aris, the profit ‘They are all ugiy in them- cellent food, and they all possess in- tensely interesting historic monuments. with a magnificent fruit and vine country around them in every direction. station of Mantes the traveler His mind is easy: and leok about him. be has left the whirl of Paris for a day. is w straggling town, with nothing in it that he cannot see easily and well. without fatigue or ¢ of the four sorry-looking emnibuses which are backed up against the om and jingles along the village road to the HILLSIDE VINEYARD BELOW HERMITAGE. been written about it, and even common mor- tals who like to discern the various modifica rebitecture can emplitied here in their most flourishing epochs. | twilight. when the couutry town is y silent, this church stands gloomy and alone in the midst of ite public square, its back to the river find them ex- one a young servant girl from Parts for a few old village wom @ man or woman passes in or denen beshets for those who come Each step re- dy with a hollow echo as the devotees move In Paris one can see an ancient church by night, but there is not this effect of splendid somberness. They are refin- ing, these great old churches of a bygone age. ignorant old crone in the church her nightly sitting place. il their beads. all tourists are pre=ni from chapel to chapel orill think that Laglish ladies have webbed toes WR COUNTRY HOTEL REFPER. The poorest and most olite with a polite- ised her children and t She is quite at home. paintings and aculj Notre Dame de Mantes is wort! cost of William's money of the tottering old dames. who, for generation after generation. for 700 years have come to dream in the midst of its solemn beauty. ried her husband. Around her are noble ted town, therefore, will be like the polit = m, thy 1 5 Polite- ptured saints. . disinterested and If the tourist be of a sen- he will feel like a poor rela- es are well un Without enimucm-m. Gitive disposition tion. if his sensibtl he wil! «peak op authoritative al ix valixe with a bang on the sanded floor and eek what there is for dinner. ce for the man who asserts himeelf. mess which in America is another kindly feeling hax but a Himived usefulness with lower-class F-enchmen. I have been at two hotels in Mantes, each with indiderent accommodations. Grand Hotel of the Great St Horse united; the other Rock of Cancale. The differ te worth noting The Grand Cerf is by far the most interesting in appearance. two-storied straggling building. with two wings whieb form » handsome « Formerly it was the bu if only for the sake Everything goes ALONG THE SEINE. Behind the church is the river Seine, whose | banks offer pleasant promenades. island formed here is united with Mantes by a At a little distance is the an. cient bridge of the twelfth century, which is In any of these French me can hire an open carriage of the model commor in Paris at the rate of two or three france an hour. spirited and of fine appearance, and the driver, usually a boy, will be comm He will know the fs can be trusted as a loi the Seine opposite Man overlooking the valley and word for modesty a: modern bridge. far more graceful © between them itis a long, icative and good orite drives and The banks of rixe high toa bluff artyard, well shaded. ding of a conven irregular-shaped ‘Where pious nuns were wont to sit aud muse, THE OLD the modern commercial traveler and stray tourist snore in lofty, canopied entrance to the Grand Kitchen, where a brigand-looking cook in white duck and with a flere him te the landlady’s office at rance the night: BRIDGE. stretch of country. Crossing the modern stone | ® take the cash. . Which affords a fine view of the one, the drive goe Cerf ix through | try roads, is hard and emooth, in perfect con- | of which one meets a namber, Other vehicles are those of country dition for the side. Rooms cost three the dinuer fs good. and also costs three fran: Without wine. But the regular boarders was something ix the only time I visited the snversation of the m, from donkey carts to heavy wains drawn by oxen. Now and then a smart villa will disclose handsome carriage bi perhaps a stylish turn Characteristic of t was borne by a gray-beaded old repro- ye beard of patriarchal with nothing u Every inch of ground is under cultivation, with sober and contented small | proprietors tilling their own fields. WOMEN WHO WORK IN THE FIELDS. Sometimes it makes one sick to read unin- | formed aud hasty newspaper correspondence | about women working in the fields in Europe. | Certainly women do work in the tields over here, | and factory giris in America would be stronger and happier if they were tanght to do the anme of gaining the pittance they en- | at work supposed to be more genteel. rank work side by side with their husbands. If the husband is a cit the wife is at the cashier's intendence of the whole date with » dirty yello: exfent. They paid no regard to man and his wife quiet! Like ourselves, but continued their inappropriate to the middle of the roast, the room with Stories from the sou; when the English faces. I heard the man asking for his bill an: landlady expostulating with bim in vain. took bis wife to the Rock of Cancale. le are bound to su lands, so my friend and I “And you go, too?” “Yes, you have your liemts. Their conversation does not our bills as well. the patronne. bh women of ev A FAMILY RESORT. i The Hotel of the Rock of Cancale is more of shopkeeper desk and has a superi establishment: if her husband is a li she interests herself in hie wri | a ane with a truck farm i 4 i ir e j i fi i ie i bg ff | f j H i i : i id { | f | if f i EE | i id ? il i: ts if I £ i g r F 5 i t tends to the dairy and the family wash. Worst of all she is alone with one servant or a daugh- ter. She does not dance, and she most often confines her singing to prayer meetings and eburch. I have seen both sides of the picture. The American farmer's wife too often breaks down at fifty years of The European peasant woman at sizt is still strong enough to workin the ficlds and excite the commiseration of American tourists, AN ARCADIAN SCENE. In the fields outside of Mantes the women are picking vegetables and fruits and the men are tending the vines. The carriage rolls along the level road that skirts the riverside. Later the road turns from the river and, as- cending a gentle slope between apple and pear orchards, shows picturesque glimpses of the valley of the Seine. There are no fences mark- ing off the fields, which are scattered with scarlet poppies and the yellow of wild mustard. Along the roadside are hawthorn hedges with their red berries and bushes of wild plum with their glistening purple fruit. One sees patches i of green corn, which is grown for fodder. ‘The grapes along the protected hillsides are both purple and yellow and ace nowadays sent to the ‘aris fruit markets rather than used for wine. Skirting orchards of golden pears, open fields of cabbages that glisten with a metaliic blui green, passing pasture fields where little girls tend cows and donkeys, the roud ascends to the plateau which overlooks the Seine opposite Mantes. The § Rhine—i so high and the castles vanished long yet the traveler, as he throws himself on the irf and traces the contour of the river and the nd below to the right and to the left, is irre- sistibly reminded of the view from the heights of Stolzenfels. Everything is on a smaller seale, gentle, refined, peaceful and domestic. The banks of the Seine are lined with ceful willow trees, the two stone bridges are in sight, the boundaries of distant roads and fiel southern hillsides are covered with vines. Through all the river winds, a lazy stream of er or dark green. If there are no castles immediately near there are at least the towers of Mantes and the unfinished steeples of Notre Dame. Acshort distance farther on there are the ruins of an old convent of the Celestine monks. founded in 1876 by Charles V of France. This hillside was celebrated for its good wine. It was in the act of foundation of this mon- astery that Charles V for the first time used the royal arms reduced to three fleurs-de-lvs, “tin honor of the trinity,” as the charter itself sa; A little below the ‘monastery, reached by a | winding lane, the ancient hermitage of St. | Sauveur, entirely cut in a rock overlooking the | river. There isa chapel, a little garden and the dwelling ptace of the hermits. In old times these caves could only be entered from the top by a rope ladder from a wered by a stone. In the time of Charlemagne it was the rendezvous hole in the ground kept of the old Seine pirates. Three stone crosses, very ancient, mark the spot where the last of | them were hung. There are no hermits in the ge now and the town council of Mantes bas declared the place to be a public museum. They have put a m fully to the middle-age ence for them. He days of images are pas! in solitude and keeps hi | bats: but he cries out: “Keep on your hats!” adding, as rather mixed reason: your hats. Tam a Calviniat Driving back along the bills | soil which has made Fi |in Europe. In Paris the general distribution | of property is not so evident, but here every French family bas beginning, this ex the great city. Srexiixe Heiuic. a LIMBS FORK CKIPPLED VETERANS. | Half of Those Entitle to Them Get New Ones Next Year. OME OF THE GRAND ARMY VETER- ans who recently visited Washington had their traveling expenses paid by the govern- ment. They were crippled old soldiers who wanted to be measured for new artificial limbs here. ‘The law allows them car fare from any part of the Union to whatever city th to have their legs andarms made in and r 0086 urn. ‘There are facto‘ies engaged in that sort of manufacture for the government in various | places all over the United States. Two of them are at the capital. So the wounded survivors of the war were in some instances able to get eir passage hither from their homes and back for nothing. Abeut 8,000 of the crippled soldiers entitled | to arms and.legs at Uncie Sam's cost will rez | ceive new ones during the next fiscal year oF | else a cash equivalent. ‘There are not far from 16,000 such veterans on the roll, and ench one of them gets one or more substitute limbs or the money value every three years. The law formerly made the perio: five years, On Jan- uary 31 last there were the roll who had lost one leg. had lost both legs, eighty-seven one foot and_ eighteen doth feet. Each of 8,535 veterans had lost one | arm, twenty-four both arms and. fifty-seven jone hand. One had lost both Hands and one had lost both arms and both legs. ‘There never were but twoon the 1ist who had lost both arms and both legs. because such injuries are almos ably fatal. From the above reckoning it is apparent that less than half of the 16.000 old soldiers on the roli have le merely lost the use of arms or legs. However, that amounts to the eame ‘hing under the law. Ifa hand is merely disabled or a foot cut off at theankle the claim forawhole arm or leg is good. Of course in such case veterans take the | money commutation instead of the limbs—€75 | for aleg and $50 foran arm. So do nearly all | of those who have lost their arms, because an artificial arm is of scarcely any use except as an ornament, thouch an imitation leg of good | make serves almost as well as a real one to walk with. Most of those who need legs do not get them, preferring to accept the money inst of them are chronically hard up, in hand seems more desiza nest artificial limb that was ever made. sides, life is short. y have a reason: expectation of obtaining another leg or arm in the next world. Furthermore, there are not a few crippled men who cannot wear the im- proved imitation legs, because their stumps are tender and are rendered sore by the contriv ances of willow wood and rubber with mac! ery inside of them. They can get along very well with ordinary pegs, properly cushioned, but these new-fangled jointed affairs do not suit them. Owing to all these facts not more than 600 arms and legs are drawn “in kind’ by | the 16,000 pensioners. ‘The rest of them prefer —— Rather Too Much to Expect. | From the Detroit Tribune The cracksman had ripped the blinds off their hinges and was in the ct of cutting throngh the window glass when a chorus of feminine | times fat ‘ : bs ad within es |make him go to such extent that it was wit shrieks was beard within the howe. Itsounded | 1nake, Lim Miaiteel Reaetes balance | he would repent and ‘be good” for a week or | two before his next fall. | toan actual p about three of them. “Go right away from there,” shouted a shrill | voice. “Murder!” “Help!” \ The clouds parted long enough to allow the | moon to bathe the earth in silver glory and re- veal a cynical smile on the lips of the outlaw. Ain't you going away?” ‘The shrill voice shoo! “Well, I guess not.” ‘The burglar spoke with the courage of his convictions. “And you're ¢-c-coming in h-b-here?” “Cert.” For a moment the harsh, rasping noise of the fied Kersh, coaplag noise that is usually heard in stories of adven- in another chorus of file on the glass—the ideni | ture—was drowned | shrieks, “:Girls, he's e-e-coming in.” There was a rushing hither and thither and | the mingled comm: | Presently there was “Mr. B-b-bi wait for a woman to dress.’ Distracted as they were they f@it the cold logic of his remarks. Mr. Oldboy—“I remember the first fish I qver ‘Port—What.was it; an Ichthyossuras?” life. NEVER TOO LATE TO MEND, WRITTEN EXPRESSLY FOR THE EVENING STAR BY RODNEY CLARKE. UNT MERCY PER- kins stood by the back gate and gazed at the sweet peas. Pansies, sweet peas and gera- niums constituted the core of what Aunt Mercy was pleased to call @ garden, and every day she tended her little plants with great care and no ler# pleas- Her hair, parted brushed carefully back till it hung like tain over each ear, draped a face that, though somewhat determined in its outlin tain sweetness about it which spoke of self-de- Her figure, thongh a little stooping, bore the stamp of grace, and her whole bearing proclaimed that once 8) been a great beauty. As she stood in the twi- thoughtfully at her little bed of sweet pens she mace a picture that would have touched a lover of the good and true—and a | rad expression resting upon her lips betrayed the presence of other cares than those per- taining to her flowers. from her reverie. ly | nial and charity ine is not the is smaller, the hills are not “Tea’s ready, auntie, a eweet voice from within the house, Mercy turned and entered through the door—a circumstance to be remarked, for the front door was only in use when “company cam house which engulfed Aunt | was a small two-s'ory affuir front eet of a very small village in Massachusetts, it was of shingle and w was just in front, between the road and the house, and. the front door was reached by a little gravel path, a similar path leading around to the back entrance. thing was scrupulously neat, and an air of “hands off” seemed to pervade the premises. Aunt Merey closed the door and proceeded to the dining room through the parlor. something must weigh very heavily on Aunt Merey’s mind! The parlor—opened only on Sundays when the minister canie to tea—actuaily iinessed Aunt Mercy’s form this Thursday ‘A musty odor rather are marked by slender Lombardy poplars and the jeroy’sslender form evening of which I write. pervaded the atmosphere, and the two shells on ith astonishment at the in- A faded illuminated text that bung upon the wall appeared to grow pale, and the bigh-back chairs frowned with quiet dignity. Ant Mercy stopped Before the big rocking chair, arranged a tidy in the mantel glared Jace, blew a little t from a vase standing on the table and proceeded to the old square piano, which had not seen daylight for years. several photographs upon this ancient piece of furniture—some cabinet size and one or two A miniature of a very g@d-looking ‘ouug man she quietly removed from its place nd wrapped gently in her handkerchief. the went into the dining room and took ber The table was spread for in charge who tends care- jos without rever- ‘4 disreputable pleasant- who declares that “the He spends his days ts up by drinking cognac. It is customary in entering a church or sacred place for gentlemen to remove their place at the table. two, and as Aunt Mercy took her se face looked up from the other end with astonished eyes at her vis-a-vis, Aunt Mercy,” exclaimed the same sweet voice that hed announced the meal, ‘ through the parlor, and I believe you've left “No, Lucie,” replied her aunt, “I shet the front door arter me as I come in, and I went into the parlor fer a pup- Keep on to Mantes you can complete your observations on the French country by noticing the close cultivation of the nce the richest nation own plot of ground to stimulate industry and thrift, As I said at the rience of the French coun- tryside may well be added to what the tourist sees in his confusing visits to the show sights of y, the parlor ain't been used, ‘cept Sun- Was there any- I dusted real careful after the minister had gone, and I'm sure the shells I fixed the pictures all right, ‘ook pains with everythin “Everythin” was all right, was proud of your dustin’, fault I went into the parlor. I had a puppose, and you ball know it soon—very soon indeed. tonight—pr’aps not—but very, vs a long time, ant thin’ wroug there? were all in place. learie, an’ I allus “Twan't to find “Well, I'm glad you ain't put out by any- thin’ bein’ wrong in there, anywi had done things right. what it was that took you.in there, tho’, auntie. It must have been a mighty strong puppose. Tell me as soon as you can, won't you, auntie, began: 3 rie, but it’s a long, long story, | itl. 4 I'm'afeared you'll git weary ‘fore i Has Mr. Hull ben here today? for the was but a girl of eighteen— diusheda little and dropping her ey faintly, “For a little while.” Lucie with a kiss: “He ain't comin’ ag'in tonight, is he, my Again the answer waa in the affirmative— this time so inandibly that had it not been for the contusion of the speuker the question would But Aunt Mercy knew Yes” was the reply, and for some minutes the meal went on in silence. | Lucie ate rapidly and near! with her tea, while Aunt Mercy thin fingers around the handkerchief containing the miniature. sipping very slowly her evening beverage and looking through the window at the distant church «pire with a far-off light in es, us if trying to bring her thoughts into realities by the power of her only too well that choked herself clenched her as well as if'twas only hard, an’ looked like ‘twas agoin’ to keep it up, she presently said, “to- ning after breukfas’ L want you to come with me an’ take a little walk, little story to tell which I spec’ you'll be right 1’ we'll go into the woods—jes’ What do you say to it, child?” love to, auntie. eried Lucie, and so it was arranged. ‘That evening Mr. Benedict Hull called, Mr. Benedict Huil wore a white flannel a straw bat on the back of his head and a cigar- ette, which last he threw away as he approached something about Mr. Benedict Hull that you liked and there was also something about hitn that you didn’t like. adsome, fine brown eyes, frank eyes, brown mustache When he smiled he displayed a good his mouth was a trifle weak | end his manner indicated a degree of careless- | ness that disappointed you. anything he seemed to h: | complishing his purpose, but whatever he did was carelessly done. and could have been done |#omuch betier with alittle more earnestness and attention on his part. dered to this little sequestered spot no one knew but himself and his explanation was com- p He had been through seasons’ at Newportand Narragansett in summer and Wash- ington and New ¥ Yet here he was alone and apparently very happy. He certainly wasa clever man and could entertain himself and anybody else he came in contact. limbs. A majority of them have | the ‘Perkinses.” nd a good com- | set of teeth, but If he undertook ve no trouble in ac- funny ways. Why he had wan- any on’em, an’ he was jest as nice as could Jack used to comfort me so sweetly tech a han’some fellow,too. Dear Jack,” sighed | him on the dirty nose. Aunt Mercy, a little ‘brokenly, “He was very | good to me. | to go home agi He possessed a large and good heart and a very strong inclination to flirt | with any woman who flattered him in the least degree or took the slightest notice of him. And as he was extremely popular among the fair sex he never was ata loss for one with whom he mht indulge his inclination, which some- times “would blind his good-heartedness and if there were at least thirty-five women in- | side, but the burglar, basing his opinion upon ; ; So near bad h his ‘experience, conjectured that there. were piercer nd, of course, an ac- ceptance thereto in his last flirtation—that he really resolved to flee from the very haunts of the true reason for find- ing him in the quiet village where dwelt Aunt Merey and her niece. ‘ticular evening he was ina very “I have been re- markably fortunate,” he said to bimeelf, “in having selected this place for my refuge. should find it so stupid that I in to Narragansett and in the fascinations of that But this sweet little rosebud has been an oasis. in my desert of loneliness, and I think I can stay here for some time yet, until the rush of the season is over, at any He tay tly at the front door and in a presets med it and welcomed her ‘here "the bright: lerap ight room, ined’ his really handsome face end ve- vealed to his temptation, and thi frame of mind. was afraid that anew to indul watering place. moment Lucie 9 months after he lef’ wrapped her handkerchief and gazed somewhat ‘Waal, about eight months E k them all thy niece was pictured as play- ing the same part that thou didst play when thy sweet life was shattered many years oan weary aan oars Meroe blighted bright star one vant Merey's| heart, the star that softened with its meliow should be taken from her and then ished? “Oh, no, oh, no,” she sobbed, her tomorrow. I willsave her. She shall. not be heartbroken like me, my dear, dear Lucie.” ‘And then, weary with her weeping, she fell asleep and did not awaken until Lucie came up to bid her good-night, % “Why, auntie, what’s the matter,” she ex- claimed. “Lor’, child, I must ha’ ben dreamin’ about le times, I guess,” replied Aunt Mercie, ‘when you was little tot an’ used to make | mud pies in the back yard an’ git your frocks all dirty, You was a drefile cute little one, too, dearie."” She did not sleep very much that night. She | was thinking what a fascinating man was Mr. Benedict Hull. has such lovely manners,” thought the girl, ‘an’ he knows so much.” And then her thoughts reverted to Aunt Merey’s strange behavior. She connected it | somehow with Mr. Hull, but in what way there could be any connection she (was at a loss to find out. Mr. Hull, however, occupied the greater part of her wakeful moments and fig- | ured largely in her dreams. had Mr. Hull in her thoughts and dreams and if that favored gentleman bad known to wha extent his image was closeted in the mansion o! the “‘Perkinses he would no doubt have felt Aunt Mercy also | highly honored. The next morning dawned bright and beauti- ful. The sweet pe: seemed to lit their h Itcions air and the bi is. twittered gleefully in the elm trees that bordered the road on each side. Lucie was down early, and at 7 o'clock punctually breakfast was ready. It was rather | ssolemn meal, however, for Aunt Mercy evi- dently seemed to have something on her mind. She hardly spoke at all,and then only to ask for some article of food.’ Lucie was very quiet and seemed absorbed in thought. She was look- ing into her heart, seeing there an image, but vers, very faint as yet, of Mr. Benedict Hull. It would not require very much on his part to develop the image into an idol for her adora- tion, but still as yet it was but a skadow. And she was trying to learn its meaning, though it puzzled her to some extent. After breakfast was over, the things cleared away and everything put into place in apple pie order Aunt Mercy said: “Come, dearie, let's go fi glad it’s sech a lovely mornin “All right, auntie,” cried Lucie, and getting her hat she joined her aunt, and the two wan- dered over toward a patch of woods which stretched across the fields, about half mile back of their house. Taking a path that wound ly through these woods they followed it ey reached @ fallen tree, upon which they sat down. At first neither spoke. Lucie knew that some- thing unusual was coming, and Aunt Mercy was trying to find a way to begin what she wanted to Bay. ‘Aunt Mercy,” at length ventured Lucie, “did—did you'want to tell me anythin’ special? Is—is it anythin’ about Mr. Hull, auntie?” ‘Waal, no—not exactly about Mr. Hull, dearie, but something that you might apply to his keepin’ sech stiddy comp'ny with you. Lucie, dear, I'm agoin’ to tell vou things which Inever ‘spected to tell a livin’ soul—things which happened to me when I was a gal your 6 @ year or two older.” ‘Oh! auntie, do go on, and I'll never, never say a word to any one about it, nuther.” All right, dearie; wait jest a minute ‘tel I kinder get things jined together in my mind.” Lucie smiled and waited while her aunt thought a moment. She had always known that there had been something of a romance connected with Aunt Mercy’s youth, but what it was had never been revealed to her. And now she was eager to _he all, and waited impatiently for Aunt Me “jine things together in her mind.” Finally that operation beving apparently been per- formed to the old ladys satisfaction, she w,dearie, in the fust place, you must promise never to tell a livin’ soul what I'm agoin’ to tell you.” "Deed I promise faithfully, auntie,” said the “Waal, then, secondly. you must pay the strictest "tention to me, then you kin think a while.” “All right, I will, auntie, dear.” chipped in dso Aunt Mercy started in, “When I was a gal ‘bout twenty I was con iderec by some folks to be purty good lookin’, d tho’ I've changed toa homely ole maid now, ill I used to prink up “fore the glass an’ gad about to parties an’ hold my own with the best on'em. Waal, ‘twas in the winter time, an’, as Isaid, Iwas jest twenty when I went visitin’, | Willie turned a double somersault; “it carries here was some folks who had kinder took a | fancy to me one summer, an’ they had asked me to come an’ spend Janiery and Febiery with | ‘em at their place ‘bout fifty mile from here, not a great ways off from the city o’ Boston. liked "em mighty well. an’ so I packed up my things an’ went. I kin remember the day jest terday. "Twas snowin’ too. "lef" here in the mornin’, and ‘twas nigh onto 5o’elock in the afternoon sifore I got there. “There was two gals an’ a young man in the family beside the parents. As I got out of the carriage at their front gute the young man— whose name was Jack—come out an’ helped me out, an’ then the two gals wa’ on the piazzy an’ gave me a cordial welcome. Aw’ wh inside an’ had taken off my wraps an’ set there | afore an open fire in that han’some se! | I think I was jest about as happy an’ full of sperits as a young body could be. What we did in the two weeks follering I n’dn’t mention. Drivin’ an’ sleighin’, dancin’ an’ all kinds of parties. Iwas ‘nothin’ but course, an’ I didn't know al country gal, of the fashiohable ways that the others did, an’ now an’ then I'd git laughed at an’ made fun of. But I had a | glaring at us all. good time through it all. " : minded the way the two gals would laugh at | i#m. You expect we should all sing and dance, me an’ talk about my doin’ all kinds of queer | but you-are mistaken, ma'am, mistaken to the things ef it hadn't a ben for Jack. [| Utmost. heard one of his sisters say one day to @ han’some woman that I was a real M : pe nice country gal an’ she musn't mind my | twenty-one my name is mud, ma‘am, mud, I 4 An’ when I felt badly over it an’ | §2¥- oked kinde t evenin’ ask —— sees crm cake shed "0 | samme took Iittie Willie to her arms and dba said it wasa shame an’ that I was as good as exactly what all mothers would under the cir- She called William her darling boy and kissed ‘aal, when it come time for me left on a rainy after- My greatest feelin’ of sorrow count of Jack. But he said ” Jack stayed with us the whole month of an’ at the end of that time I was head should ever between us. When he went away I cried very, very hard an’ then sat down an’ wrote him a long , but I didn’t mail it until I got his. He wrote me jest lovely things ery now an’ then he'd send me candy an’ an tometimes, Jewelry an’ sometimes a pictur’ of miniature he gave me about two And Aunt Mercy un- upon its precious contents. Then she handed it to Lucie, who looked at it with ad- “He was han'some, auntie,” she woflly.” Aunt Mercy nodded and west ont Z Hf we lown to see me an’ it le ore wildly in’ love with him ever an’ he was tly more so me, too. But oh, ”” cried Aunt married about two weeks, an’ hoped I'd als think of him frien’. Sor aries nina rato ae tons n't kp bu ‘Dat—but—T some. times look pictur—en', an’ it all comes back afresh—an’ now—I—I—can’t go on—no—no more,” sobbed Aunt Mercy. And with her. tao, When Aunt Mercy had calmed i H & H i i 4 i ce ee Valuebles That Are Found After the Sweepers Have Passed, SRS SE see | AT THE DUMPING GROUNDS. rears of stiddy, growing Sarin’ for a dearie, the young life might be in ebout Mr. Hi Picking Over a City's Refuse—Families That | Make a Living at the Dumps—Occasional | timers in the service, is i and Telltale Letters—a | counted Star Man’s Visit toa Dump. and now's the time.” Lucie was crying quite freely now, and it was some time before she contd say anything. At length she looked up and kissed her aunt. And then she told: her everything there was to be ‘¥ near the danger her aunt feared, and how she would try and do as her aunt wanted her. ‘The village clock struck the hour of 12, and they both started up, exclaiming that it was the hour for dinner and nothing had been prepared. | ‘They returned home as feet could carry her, an their midday meal, the happiest they had for some days TS AN ILL that blows nobody any And it must be e | told, how she was an exceptionally third- Lucie kissed her and’ then going quietly out | | of the room retired to her own chamber. yield in its scrapings the merest pittance, at least, toward ing of some one of the scores of unfortunates | papers, bones, sera who generally frequent those necesaary adjuncts of a great city dreds ot people, white ai old, rollicking, dirty-faced brats and squalling pickaninnies, almost every day of the both trouble and amusement to the inspectors appointed to lock after ground for street refuse, while searching out the odds and ends of rags, bones, paper and what- not that go to swell the hard-lined coffers of the junk dealers and make correspondingly tently, and sometimes plethoric in smaller ratio the pocket ® dump scrapers. ‘ories of municipal wire-pulling, , filth and general wreckag: not the contents of Washington's five b grounds tell if speech were tempo parted to them? there not be in response to “lost” advertise- ments in which the printer's type was lo | “pied” and the proof sheets destroyed, wit | material benefit to the advertiser? | WHEN THE STREET SWEEPERS ARE AT WouK. Warhingion’s street sweepers generally be; their work when everybody else has gone home, | except_ newspaper generally finish whe jaickly as Aunt Mercy's soou they were cati Mr. Benedict Hull walked home to the hotel in time for the 1 o'clock meal served at that in- stitution. He was so occupied with his thoughts that he bumped right into the landlord and prawling, much to that he was a portly per- After making suitable apologies he went into the dining room and ate hia dinner. Hav- ing fiuished the meal he went to the desk and aid his bill up to the following morning. hen he retired to his room, and, getting out « per and an envelope, began He addressed the envelo} It took him some t Twice he got nearly balf through » shect and then tore it up. He sat and thought Finally he seemed to hit upon the right thing, and then he wrote it off, mut it in the envelope and started out of the He had not gone far before he sud- denly returned to his room and eat awhile in Then he started out and took a walk, About 8 o'clock he went young and wast ery nearly sent him gentleman's discomfort the city's dumping sheet of writing returning at tea time. to the post office and dropped the note he did soa sigh of relie! next morning Mr. Benedict Hull was on his wa; to New York and enjoying hiv cigar with the | air of a man who had done his duty in spite of inclinations to the contrary. | After breakfast Lucie brought home the mail and there was a letter for her among its con- tents. She opened it and read thus: “Dear Lucie: Yesterday morning as I was walking through the woods back of your house I overheard voices in conversation. As I ap- proached the spot whence they @ame I recog- | nized yours and stopped a moment to listen. heard’ my name mentioned, so I coutinued | standing where I was, not meaning to be an eavesdropper, but having a fecling of curiosity to know what would be said about me. heard your aunt's touching story, and per- escaped him. Early “rounders” stagger up the and, unless there should be a storm, inspectors T. C. Quantrell and Howard fail toadd some new experi- | idly growing stock, which has been compiled in some years of supervising big brushing machines’ operations. gallant, in immaculate raiment foot gear, has emitted genuine home-n Anglo-Saxon orths at the dust raised by the sweeper and deposited all over his outfit while coming from some swell dance or reception. “Take a nice, warm, moonlight mght,” said worth to a STAR reporter, “and out 1 o'clock perch yourself in a say between 6th and weeper to come in Keyworth rare ence to their r meant to do you the did not realize the state of things which were | But the touchi:g appeal that | lay hidden in the sad story of your aunt moved | resolved to go away tomor- row that I may escape playing the brute, as I was unconsciousiy doing. read this letter I shall be well on my way New York, and your sweet little home will nein cat Sealy | Soocony along dio arene 15th streets. Wait for t the course of its work and see if you don't ex- se within two minutes really existing. perience a big su ter the machine has gone by. man of pretty wide acquai lars to doughnuts you will find more than one man whom you know quite well following that ilo of dirt which the sweeper has pushed in a line from cross street young man, I have seen dozens of department clerks coming along the asphalt in the wake of stirring the mass around with hunting for cop- nee it is just dol- to cross street. such beautiful should be blighted by a serpent's ing. Begging your forgive- ness and that of your_noble aunt, and wisl 8 future unimpaired in its Sweet serenity, I am regretfully yours, “Bexepict Hv.” Lucie read it twice, then carried it slowly in She handed it to her without » | word and stole quietly to her room. She crie: |alittle for a few minutes, i | what had been done was that she was «till really he down stairs and went at her work. And Aunt Mercy, with a bright smile on her dear old face, | was to be seen out im her garden watering the their canes like the small boy pers ina puddlo when he knows there were some dropped there. Why, valuables of any kind ‘yand the thousand and one things that are daily advertised fo: you, as you desery What were the | anything ‘the: | partment clerks are by no me: | trons of the sweepings whom I have r | chers after a bit of sudden and What are these whole she tripped | possiply unexpected wealth, men doing on the streets in 60 mndignified a manner at that time of mght? sir; human nature; that we're all alike and ‘on the make.’ FINDS IN THE SWEEPIXGS, “In acity of this size, Spector, “it is natural to suppose the searchers a good deal of lost pro erty of a valuable sort, but when they do it is equally human nature 'that they should keep their discoveries to. themselves. see comparatively few of the finds, but once in awhile some lucky pedestrian along. the dirt heaps can't restrain his exultation and we get a glimpse at a stray $5 bill or gold original owner hi ten will never see ag: this latter character are among the rarities aud y constitutes most of the finds. know of a number of such running from £20 up, but the biggest near the corner of 9th streeta y Jely. A young man employed in the treasury, and whom I knew by sight as one of the rega- up a well-filled pocket | book after four or five other searchers had | passed the same spot. I happened to be stand- the moment and was nat- The discovercr Human nature, THE MAN WHO LOVED CHILDREN. Se Childish Innocence Always Melted His Old Heart, but He d His Failings. From the New York Herald. After she had seated herself in the ferry boat little Willie broke away from her and began | rolling around in the dust and dirt before us all. “Ab, madam,” whispered the old gentleman, “do not try to stop little Willie! I love to see | the child have fun.” “Yes, indeed.” “It does my old heart good,” he went on, as continued the in- could generally secu Of course we ndoubtedly tinds of me back to the early da: | there is nothing like y “That is true, sir, “It recalls to me,'madam, the old farm where Tonce romped. a care-free mottal, I tell you, ma'am, she said, sweetly. is such a good boy,” she ventured as | J4F searchers, picke liam yelled “Rats!” three times and threw up ing on the curb ai urally interested in the find. opened the black leather receptacle in my pres- ence and it contained neazly £600 in bank notes, There was nothing about it to show to whom belonged, but the owner adve ext day, and the young man afte je original posre: roved to be u resident of Chicago on a visit to Vashington, was so rejoiced at the his lost wealth that he counted out £100 to the finder for his luck and hone: TELLTALE LETTERS. “More than one blackmail case had its origin in the street sweeper. too. the searchers pick up lost letters with as much yas if they had’ been treasury notes of big denomination, and in at les District courts the f The old gentleman suddenly let out a roar that echoed over the river. ““Wo-w!” he gasped, howling with pain. “Mercy, me! exclaimed the woman, staring. jon't vou teach your boy some man- has just stuck pin inany leg! en I got | ward told me that room| ‘And his conduct carries you back to the “And youth fades so quickly, sir.” ma'am; wow-w, I say’ T have seen some of “That will do, ma'am,” he gasped, rixing and “Tree, ma'am, that I am in P'raps I would have | the presence of a spoiled child, your sweet Will- | ®¥i4) intift in a di- : i | Yorce sui 5 ee aie, See, yore bor OM | iit Nis eainenn wale Coughs a tetier eaaes Vp * the co-respondent in the case received from her doemn't break his mother's heart before he is the co-respondent in the cas some unscrupulous follower of the eweeper and Then | 80ld for $5 to the injured husband, who had uspected something of the kind before, but | was not certain until that telltale letter fell The case I refer to involves parties who are well known in Wachington, and the beginning of the suit for divorce created sensation when brought some time ago, aT THE pomps. A District regulation long ago located the principal city dumps at 27th and N, 25th and | N, 17thand Band 28th and M streets uorth- west, Delaware avenue and Ist and 6th and M The dump dowa near the grow up a burglar and a horse thief, It was found by And he fiung himself ont the door. ee into his hands. n’ he was | ———-+o+___ Herbert Spencer at Billiards. Apropos of Mr. Herbert Spencer, a corre- spondent of the Frankfurter Zeitung recently reported the following anecdote, says the Bal- | timore Sun, which, though it may not be quite worthy of being repeated. Mr. nde rome of his after ndon Athenwenm, the in’ I had had all I wanted of | parties an’ things, I thanked ‘enf all for their goodness an’ kindness hoon in the first week in March, I was kinder | glad 1 was agoin’ home agin’, for I lot to see the folks an’ the dear ole town an’ the cat | an’ everythi at leavin’ was on he'd run down in the summer an’ see me, so I felt better. Waal, when summer come, I got letter from him askin’ if he might bring a frien’ with him. Thad already invited him to st with us, an’, of course, I told him yes. I wish now I'd a told him no. ’ Along about August he came with his frien’. He was a ban’some fel- low—this frien’—and was talented, too. He could play tho pianer just lovely, an’ he had as fine a voice as ever I heard. He was a dashin’ feller an’ could entertain a comp'n: of talk to you alone, an'do both equally well, fe ai Augu over heels in love with Jack's frien’. He made sweet speeches to me, almos’ told me he loved me, gave me lovely things an’ said no other gal streets southeast, fish commission waters is mainly w | dirkand snow cles | weather, and the remai made the recipients of **pay dirt.” Her | teams and store wagons, and all other so: vebicles from the regulation es approach to the “Virginia creeper” ton boasts of, haul their cargoes of ray | ters, common street and the dump inspector sees that ¢ thing is done in proper form. dump in this neck of the woods unless it c: boast of an inspect wood, John McNamara, E. B. Burt and 8 Taylor are the men detailed to keep the fillings | Herbert Spencer daily sj noon leisure in the famous club for scholars and literati. will regularly play his | day a young man_who i d “him for the d from streets ing four are gc ame of billiards. One \d_ been introduced to leasure of having a game with him. The philosopher started 1 ball, but when his young acquaintance seized his cue he proved to be such an expert on the | green cloth that he finished the game by one ncer found no further oc- sweepings and’ w | run, #0 that Mr. 8) phen and over two years in TALES WITHOUT WORDS. exhibit is the proof speaking, Mr. Spencer took his hat Aleut Canoes. ‘Two firemen-who were-on the steamer Alice Blanchard on «trip to the Yukon fiver, says the Seattle Post- Intelligencer, brought back two if i i E i i i F i i e ij t t tH UE 4 - i i I i i id # z 4 i i 8 4 f i i : 3 F ERE i i s Ls i i i | i ii § I f at grado with the eurrounding streets and pre vent any promiscuous grab-bag business among “the daily visitors to their stamping grounds They rarely have much trouble in that direc- tion, howe for there is an unwritten law of Bon-interference among these diggers after wealth and fame, and,as there is usually a Jentifal eupply of loads to be picked over, the jaxpector’s offictal dutins cause no bad feelings in the mixed community A VISIT To THE DUMP IX THE NORTHWEST. The damp at 25th and N streets is the larg | Ost in Washingion and war fairly covered with | pickers when Tar Sr man visited it the other morning. E. B. Burt, one of the old ebarge, and be re- eof th arious things which | have occurred on the dump during his incam. jbency. Here and there a team was its freight ina cloud of dust from which were mixed up in every cc ner with shavings, waste @aper and Tage. An tire ed family of nine, with the smallest Foungster barely able to toddle, was busily Pushing the 2 of one wagon about as they fell to th and one of the urchine gave a yell of vel tal f we} dat butt, v shouted the master of this particuiar party of pickers, but the etud prove to be merely « brass fixture, which the heed of , however, confiscated. Meanwhile crowd wax rorting old news iron and anything which promised to bring « penny oF two frc nk dealer, ing else of ible natare Tied to one of the firm ntly burning on the dump to destroy Avable cor- cor raw “That's the way you day out, a penny e DORRN, find them day in and eclor Burt, as be ored, in livelihood out of this * vicinity make . mp. Ther search 5 1 something bl have their regu quent the dump and kee supplied. Lam pretty certain « toake anywhere from $1.00 to $3 a ¢ their pickings, although the maj much leas then ®1 eves But, exc fire over there see to hy a pee which I have learned to be burning flesh, 1M tee what it means, WHEN FUMIGATION Is NEEDED. The inspector hastened to the place, but the scent proved false, A «m P of rubber | happened to be the unpleasant factor thi« time. It was a leader, however, and the 4: as asked whether any human remai: | reached the refuse ground, “Only | plied Mr. Burt, “and that was the aghly wrapped ce among the other nts of . I discovered it in time, though, and r , who had the body rev else it might have reached one of the fires a dentally, although it wouldn't have been my fault. Sometimes dead cate and dogs escape the garbage man’s dead animal wagon and find their way here. Somehow they are | the fire, and you can imagine that a sanitare fumigation would be highly desirable about then. Still many of these things are as rave as big finds, and altogether there are worse occa- pations than being the inspector of a big damp ike this, BANK NOTES BURNED To AsHeS, This 25th street Tepository also contains the charred remains of several hundred dollars which were accidentally destroyed there about five weeks ago. Great loads of waste paper from stores and printing offices are brought there daily, and the ‘match is applied before the pickers have arrived. In one of these londs was a tin dispatch box, as was afterward found, but before it waa discovered the con- tents had been turned toashes, Mr. Burt tention was first called to the pile when « dressed gentieman eame to the dump inquired whether «load of waste p: arrived that tin box, he said.and thought it might bave been dropped among the waste accidentally before its removal from his place of business. Among the burning mass the receptacle was found, but the owner left the dump a sed man. Only @ small corner of two or three bills was left to show that considerable cash bad been im the pile. One of these days the Commissioners will have to find a ne: for in r Rock creck as it may be placed without damming the stream. Meanwhile, the dum picker and his confrere, the Junk man, will find many a dollar's worth of value in the re- fuse which finds its way to the capital's serap + Anotmer Domestic Pow~ Mansios From the Chicago Tribone. Mr “Billiger, how often do you get ehaved?” . Mr. MeSwat—“About four times a week on an average. How much time does it usually require?” About half an hour.” “Half an hour four times a week! That's two hours « weck, four and one-third days a year and nearly « month and a half in ten years. Think of it, Billiger. If yon should let your beard grow you would save time enongh in ten years— But look here, Lobelia! Great Scott! I n't want to let it grow. Did you ever sec me a | with a full set of whiséers?” ‘No, but— and gratitude you ever experienced, yelia, that vou never did! With a full beard, dum, I look like a cocoanut in @ fit of deliriam tremens. I tried it once, years ago. ked at me on the street, children fled fr terror, footpads who caught a glimpse « me me by 5 a street h ce by a dime museum My portrait was ntry as the most I don't believe any of that stu? Swhgor, and I'm sure—" “Don't interrupt me, madam. grows straight out, up, down, «i bristle for © the spines « chestnut burr, it grows in every shade and color, from brindle to vermilion and_ baek again. If you could see me once with a hedge fence all over my face vou would — hink of the ‘The time I fo. do you fix vour hair y day of my life, of course, but that's different.” That's different, ix it, hey! How long doss it take von to fix ity” “I think you're just as “You needn't answer. I know how long it takes. I've ween you do it often enough. It ukes vou half un hour every blessed day of to look after vour frizzes, if that's wha’ you cail thom. ‘Think of it! Half an hours day, three hours and « half a week, ly eight dave in a year, an entire month in four years, a whole year ou'd better go and look