Evening Star Newspaper, December 3, 1892, Page 11

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTO . D. @ SATURDAY. “DECEMBER 3, 1992—-SIXTEEN PAGES ——————— FUN AND ART. How American Students in Paris En- ork. deceptive. ing Joy Themselves and W them, coats ae pap oe ye a a amie eat peer aney A SET OF TRUE BOHEMIANS. |oneehe fc his Euty, but. he will poe telly pm her Pong Chel i Seinen Listening to the jolly songs, seeing the good- Ou the Steamer—An Art Student’s Day—Li~ the greater of these students haven't an fag on Pittance and Always Cheerfal~| iaeq where next cent is coming from, and ‘The Dancing Class and the Art Students”| that some of them have not had enough to cat League—In the Studios. that very day. Very often the men’s studios are next door to those of the girls’ all this shouting and singing, conceive the ides that ‘the boys” waste thei time and never do anything. To be gay is — the principles of these damsels, and yy think that cheerfulness implie# laziness, when in reality their own work is very inferior to that of the masculine element. THE LUNCHEON HOUR. Four hours are spept in painting; then comes Tuncheon. And such a luncheon! Not so bad in fteelf as are the eating houses where it is taken. They are those at which the couchmen Written for The Eventas Star. HERE IS A POST tive and there is « comparative of fun, to both of which most of uw» have attained; but the superlative falls only to the lot of the marculine American “art students in Paris, They all have a good thne—from the rich fellow who goes over Just to dabble in paint down to the poor wretch who lives on ten sous a day aud straps bis belt tight to still the voice—not wee nor mma’, either—of hunger. The good times begin oa the steamer. He who has ever daubed even « square foot of canvas becomes forthwith a thorough Bohe- mian and learns to extract plessure from every- thing, even from a state room shared with three others. The first thing to be done is to make friends of the room mates, if they are not already acquaintances, which they usuall are. They are pretty sure to be “‘good fellows, ——— excellency of a glass of beer, and may be art students also. The most cubby hele. sty in the are done by them in that by courtesy a room. Early morning—very early, indeed—a chorus Z ; A STAND UP DINNER. and day Inborers eat and are generally called “The Good Saint Peter,” or some such appro- priate name. A bar, a’ genuine unappetizing nch bar, is near the entrance. A stout ma- | tron, with greasy hair coiled close to her head, flabby, unbealthy skin, snags of tecth, a clean ron and a dirty gown, plays the double role of barmaid and waitress, setting out the bread and soup, veal, salad and red wine—which is nearer vinegar—that compose the meal with her own dirty hands. ‘There are no table cloths and no napkins, and the whole repast costs 10 centa, IN THE EVENING, Work again until dark, then a stroll in the streets and “shady” alleys, which are interest- ing and uncanny at that hour, when the sun has dropped so low that the spire of Les Invalides is no longer tipped with its rays, yet when the little imp-like lamp lighter has not yet made his rounds. After their walk they drop into some “Holy Saint Anthony” or ‘'Saint Luke the Martyr” for dinner. This consists of more — and bread, beef, mashed potatoes, salad and a pitiful attempt at a dessert, which feast is served for the price of 15 cente. Do you suppose that their study for the day is over? By ho means. At 8 o'clock begins a night class for drawing. At this first come is first served, that is to say, the earliest arrival gets the best place and keeps it. It isa weird ‘awful odor of cigar smoke greets any one who enters here about 9 o'clock The light is dim, the lamp chimney sooty, cobwebs are on every- thing, men in s perfection of deshabille, their faces’ smeared with charcoal, cigars in their mouths, bend over the easels and drawing boards, while in the midst of these unearthly A STUDIO CORNER. yweand grumbles emanate from their ‘The steward, who opens the door to ask them to moderate their transports a little, them to untie a series is not always sure that the trick has a change of linen with for he has learned to “want but low, 4 course, spoils moist clothes with that young lady. fellows who are enjoying his discomfiture are careful to send bim in a couple of bottles of champagne during the day “to keep him cheerful,” and ont of pity for his loneliness they help him to drink it,cl \g it to his bill, however. Most of the day the young men are n deck, getting up violent flirtations with the ty though sometimes they descend to lower regions fora quiet game of poker. And then, again, on rare occasions.one of them will make up bis mind to “put that pig pen” in order. He pulls off his coat, rolls up his sleeves and corners, the things r wrong ate wrong in the trunks, tumbles the berths #0 that they have to be made over tate ar te | fF A STUDENTS’ RETREAT. figures stands a ni model, her white skin fairly gleaming against the dark background of the night,a bet flutters ina corner and now and then a student will break out with a fiendish song, learned in the fastnesses of some boulevard haunt. Surely in some such place as this must Dore have got the idea for his pic- tures of the Inferno. closes at 10, then comes the time to “owl it” or to make calls. Those who know the art stadents are prepared for mid- night visite and generally have alittle supper ready for any who may drop in, for the poor fellows are socially inclined and have no other leisure time to go about. But many do not spend thetr evenings in so innocent a way; the brilliantly lighted cafes of the lower boulevards may have greater attractions for them or else they will go to the concert gardens along the Seine. The only wonder is how after these late hours they are able to do any work the nextday, and how their constitutions bear such treatment year after year. 4 GOOD-LOOKING SET OF FELLOWS, Yet certain it is that their good looks are im no way impaired, for, taken as a whole, they are unusually handsome, and the picturesque neglige of their attire makes them more so. ‘They scorn frock coats and regulation “boiled shirts,” seldom wearing them except on state occasions, asa blue flannel blouse more than answers their This is not only amo: the provchnyrd voi , but those also who are w to do don conventional suits only at the dancing class and for formal , sometimes, too, the Art Students’ League entertainments, ‘TRE DANCING CLASS is held by a Mr. Foster on the Rue Clement Marot once a week, and here many young peo- ple of the American colony assemble, as do also agreat many Frenchmen. These latter, tra- dition to the contrary notwithstanding, are execrable dancers and are religiously avoided by almost sll the daughters of Uncle Sai nd, | as French girls have been completely “frozen out” of these hops, the unhappy Gauls have very few partners. "Yet they stay on despite constant rebuffs, for the American young ‘woman, whether rich or poor, seems to.have an irresistible fascination for them. Even the air tractive bright bell room for at least 90 per to) oy hae never ard, then when he has cleared the middle of the A cRrtrcrsx. of rabbish he goes up on deck once with the 4 1 if one of his companions nahn ae SE Er sate room during the next twelve hours. Et among themselves and not speak for hours that is no proof that they are not eter- nally devoted. Once in Paris they live in what they are to calle flat,in the a a y, either in the vicinity of the Boulevard | and the Cemetiere Montmartre or in the | quarter around the Rue des Ecoles. The ® thing of beauty. It may only have one | and cupboard, but if the “light” is | all they care ‘about. A couple of | screens will partition off a place to t# (often mattresses without cots) Will serve as kitchen, store ir own brcakfarte. ‘The concierge r own breakfaste, concierge up yard or two of bread and a | smells of peint, 40 to speak every morning early. They mabe | coat of ris members of the class are workers in coffee on & gus stove, anda fine mixture it | the studios. These and the Fourth of July water ona rainy day would be | balls at the United States legation are the only compared to it. They drink | dances which fall to their lot. 3 that comes | ‘THE ART STUDENTS’ LEAGUE. , because they For the evenings at the Art Students’ League ae an ate ee ae poms brah yscongallan a ter—# | indulge ia that laxury—with «pen or a palette | This league is « club the dues whereof are but knife. After breakfast they sally forth to their | respective studios, while a charwoman comes | mem in to aweep their room and make their beds for the tion of 4 cents per diem. She | to by the wealthy members 1 carries off several feet of bread and anything | colony, who have quite taken the infant insti- else she can Iny her on besides. If any | tution under their wing. I say infant institu- ‘one of them has had the good luck to get into | tion because it has only been in existence some the Eoole des Beaux Arte he may have afew | three or four years, but so far it bas been « sous to ~ to su penny iPenie st any’ ve f 1X THE stUDIOR. To listen at the door of the studios one would | *, Motley sesembl; imagine that the inmates never do any work, | Ovner ner firting desperately with some pretty girl in 2 Worth ri yown whose fortune is well in the hundreds of thousands. Probably the little affair will go no further than the four walls of garden, but it is violent while it ear’ the club gives a dinner, a Christmas dinner. to ite members, and as it ‘is paid for by the rich Americans of Paris it is a very fine banquet. LIEE AMERICAN COLLEOR STUDENTS. ‘There is a sort of mild hazing goes on among them, too, as among college students, and, like college students, they sometimes have absurd parades through the streets, One of these started from the Ecole des Beaux Arts. The men all formed in line after baving put wreaths of turnips and potatoes on their heads, carrots and beets uround their waists, artichokes and celery in their buttonholes and heads of cab- bage on their mubl sticks. They carried lighted torches in their hands and bags full of turnips hung at their sides; these they used as missiles to pelt passers-by and to throw at windows. Naturally did conmderable damage, break- ing panes of glass and street lamps. As they went along shouting Boulevard songs they caught and bg ed along with them any girls they met who did not seem to object. PAYING THE PENALTY. Altogether there was nothing but vine leaves ‘and wine needed to make ita Bacchanalian revel, but these men were perfectly sober, and most | ‘of them had occasion to rue the day—or night, rather—for the police captured the best part of the light-hearted crowd, and the prisoners were obliged to pay fines which their slender purses could ill afford. There was one of them who could not pay it, and was, therefore, sent to ‘THE END OF THE Pose. rison until his case came to the ears of one of js wealthy friends, and the necessary amount being turned over fo the authorities bis release was obtained. Probably, in strict justice, he did not deserve such good fortune, but his'was & peculiar case. A poor California boy, the son of aday laborer, his one ambition had always deen to study art in Paris. Little by little he saved enough to take a steerago passage to France. How he was tolive, once there, he had no idea, for after paying his fare there was just the cost of four years’ tuition at Julien’s left. But once in the gay city he tried for the Ecole des Beaux Arts and succeeded, for he was really talented. As the Arte” is a free institution, supported by the overnment, this left him with the money he intended to pay for lessons to live on. He figured it up and found that after renting a room—no, a closet—way oP, in the attic of a Latin quarter den he would have 10 cents per diem for food and extras. Naturally, at thia rate, he could do no furnishing, 0 a hea straw served him fora bed, his’ coat rolled around bis pallette for a pillow. ‘That was all his closet contained besides rats, roaches and bats. Impossible,you think, to live on 10 cents ada? Notin Paris. Fora breakfast, consist- ing of a bow! of milk and hot water and three ounces of black bread, he paid 3 cents; then un- til5 o'clock he bad nothing toeat. At5he went toone of those cutthroat cafes where beggars, thieves and murderers go, and for 4 cents got a plateful of leavings from the city hotels, scraps cast away as too poor even for the soup. It tasted good. He was hungry. Just before lying down on his bed of straw he took a supper of roasted chestnuts, which bad cost 2cents, Then there wasl cent saved, This went to buy clothes and paint. At one time he was taken with a violent attack of the grip, had to spend monevon medicines and could not pay the rent. He was turned out and almost dying left to find shelter, in mid- winter, in alley corners and areas. ‘The worst of it was that his pride was so great that none of his comrades could help him and it was only by strategy that they minaged to send the poor wretch a few louis d'or. Recently, how- ever, his work has been put in the Saion du Palais de I'Industrie and he is now climbing fast the ladder of success. ME SKETCHES EVERYWHERE, Nothing is sacred to the art student. He goes to church. Yes, but it is to sketch Gothic arches, kneeling women and picturesque alco- lytes. He goes to hear ‘Pere Hyacinthe” reach, but alxo to sketch that man’s powerful ead. ‘Into the dens of the poor and wicked, of the starving and of criminals to get “types.” Into that damp, deathly little building on the Seine, the morgue,for faces of frozen horror. It is all one to him—Easter service and murdered man—a part of his profession, done for his ex- acting mistress, Art. He shakes off the saddest scenes and memories; nothing must interfere with his life’s work—nor his fun. GwENDOLEN OVERTON. —se+ —— INDIANS FOR TH WORLD'S FAIR. Aboriginal Industri¢s to be Represented in an Interesting Manner. Part of theexhibit of the bureau of ethnology atthe world’s fair will consist of a series of “industrial groups,” representing Indians of different tribes engaged in various aboriginal industries, Dr. Moody is just starting for the west to secure the materials and data required for setting up these show pieces. He will visit the Zunis, who are famous for their pottery, and photograph them at work making pota ‘Then he will purchase from them some of their pottery and a complete set of the tools which they use in the manufacture. In the same manner he will procure pictures of the Navajos, showing how they do weaving and how they work in silver. Incidentally, he will buy from them a loom, some of their woven fabrics, their dyes and afew articles of their silver ware. From the Moquis, who are great millers, their milling apparatus will be secured. The Wichitas, who are corn enters, have elaborate processes of bread making, of which illustra- tions will likewise be got in'the shape of photo- graphs and implements. Certain other Indian friboe are wonderfully skiliful in the carving of ivory, bone, stone and wood. Dr. Moody go to'Alaska to procure specimens of their handiwork. Basket making and yet other in- dustries will very likely be shown by the groups referred to, which will be put together in Washington from the photographs and costames collected for the purpose. ‘The figures will be life-size and will represent the people in as life- like a manner as possible, just as they are ordi- narily engaged in their every day industrial oc- cupations. A Retrospective Widow. From 1: After six months of widowhood Bridget con- sented to again enter the married state. A few weeks after she was led to the altar her former mistrees met her on the street, dressed in deepest mourning. poor Tim, me furrst husband, mum. When he died I was T couldn't, but I said if iver Daxpavrr is an exudation from tog the Hair to tall owt Bar cures : “Beaux | AUNT DELPHIS DILEMMA, Reprinted from Harper's Bazar by Permission, Copy- Fight 1882, by Harper Brothers. LD “AUNT DELPHI,” a cuperannuated crone of 200 avoirdupois or thereabouts, was priv- Hleged character on Honeyfield plantation. ‘A pensioner upon the bounty of ber former owners, she bad not an earthly responsibility excepting the self- assumed care of & thriving vegetable gar- den and poultry yard, the proceeds of which, sold to her benefactors, sapplied ber with pocket money. Aunt Delphi had been a belle in colored s0- clety in her day and generation, and, if the whole truth must be told, the history of her matrimontal alliances is rather a tangled skein. She was now a widow as truly as she bad ever been a wife, excepting on a first occasion, when the legal bond had proven all too brittle for her playful handling. Bince old age, with its with- processes, had overtaken her, Aunt Delphi had surrendered all her waning vitalities to re- ligion, thus springing at a single bound from the position of « waring to thet of « Christian example on the plantation. 86 again is the angle of reflection equal to the angle of in dence. woman so recently notorious as & fisher of men for the mere sport of the anglin, had become a quoter of Scripture, a spirit exhorter, even a visitor among the d dying, a closer of the eyes of the dead. Since her conversion her new peace had, as was befitting it should, neemed to permeate all her human relations, and she regarded the whole world benignly, both upward and down- ward. She carried counsel and delicacies to the humble cabins of the distressed or ailing with the same serene, beaming face that she bore when she wended her way to the great house with a nest of empty tin cans upon her arm, ostensibly to week the advice of “Ole Miss” upon some trivial subject. The advice was given or withheld, according to the indications, but the cant were always token from her to the pantry, filled and returned. These visits were generally paid just before dinner, and after her conference with “the white folks” the old woman would repair to the kitchen “to he'p thoo de dish-washin’,” though she always consented, with becoming hesitation, to remain for a social meal with her chum, the cook. As the usual interval between these so- cial overtures wasa week or ten days, Mrs. Stanley was somewhat surprised one summer morning to see Delphi trudging up the front walk three days after a former visit, and as she approached a most mournful expression of face declared that she was in grent distress of mind, Her’ ample lips were puckered into a royal purple Hower set upon the most doleful of faces. She carried no_ petition in the shape of can or basket, and as abe laboriously seated ber- self on the inverted top of the sewing machine her to be in great tribulation. Look lnk I can’t see my way straight d mornin’, mistus. Won't you please, ma’ gimme 4 little drap o' some’h n’ raise my cour'ge tell I talks ter yer?” The servant was culled to bring some water, whereupon, with an indescribable play of fea- tures that resembled nothing #0 much as sum: mer lightning, Aunt Del mistress a look half repro: “What I wants wid pleaded. “You knows yo'se'f, ef you p water in anything hit weakens it down. I's weakened down too much now. My cour'ge neoda strenkenin’, mistus, ain't no cour'ge in water. The “courage” being duly supplicd froma bottle labeled ‘lnckberry Cordial,” Aunt Delphi proceeded with her story. “You knows Jestice an’ ‘ligion, ole miss,” aie began again, “un’ I wants to insult you “bout how 1 gwine ac’ in dis heah trouble what's come ter me. How far down doa stepmammy's juties corn- descend?” The young ladies of thé family hnd by this time drawn their chairs near, and the old woman had looked from one face to another as she put her-question. As no one in the least understood her meaning she proceeded to ex- lain: Pe Well, yer sce, babies, I got a letter f'om the pos'ortice las’ night, an’ Valler Steve he read it out ter me, an’ hit's "om my stepson Wash, I ‘ain't heerd tell o’ Wash sence ‘fo’ de wah, but he done written to tell me dat he done got mar- raied, an he got two sets o° twin babies, an’ now he’s wife rhe up an’ dies,an’ he got de onmotherless twins on ‘is han's. An’ Wash he say, bein’ as I alluy tole ‘im I'd bea good mother ter ‘im ef he'd commit me—he say he gwine trus’ me ter raise dem sets o” twins.” Fumbling in her pocket she presently pro- duced a yellow envelope. “You say there are four children?” said her mistress, by way of filling a pause. “Yas, mistus, two full sets o' twins, ‘cordin’ ter what he eay. Wash allus was a’ double- dealin’ boy.” It was hard to repress a rising smile, but the old womau’s disturbance of soul wus so genuine that her mistress remarked sympathe tically: “But Wash is only your stepson, if I re- member rightly, Delphi? “Ob, yas'm. He's my fus’ husbart’s boy. He's iivin’ down in de Ozan bottom now. He ap" me we been parted too long ter talk about, an’ you know, mistus, I been married an’ un- married off 'n’ on sence den. But, in cose, all deze circumstantial go-betweens dey don't meck Wash ain't my stepson. Yer see, mistus, Istood up in dechu'ch wid his daddy, an’ I wants ter do my juty by Wash, mo’ inspecial caze I done put ‘im out'n de house on de ‘count o° ‘im a-raisin’ bis han’ ter me, an’ I ain't nuver is laid eyes on ‘im sence. An’ sence I foun’ ace in ‘ligion I ain't done nothin’ but pray ord ter lemme meck up wid Wash, an’ now seem lak de answer done come; but hit's come loaded up purty heavy.” She sighed, even wiped her eyes, as she continued. “I ain't see de way I kin raise dem fo’ twins—no, I ain't.” “How old are they?” asked several at once. “He ain't sign dey ages down by no special figgur, but de way de letter run I” knows dey's des "bout runnin’ ‘roun’ and cryin’ size. Dat’ an’ you knows dey my little yard, an’ ef [has ter turn fo’ eryin’- size chillen in 'mongst ‘em hit'll be tur ble, Caze I ‘ain't nuver is coed a cryin’-size yit wha’ ‘ain't love ter chase de fryin’-size, ‘ell me, chillen, an’ ole mies—you knows ‘ligion an’ jee: tice—how fur down do de step-mammy’s juties corndescend?” ‘The question seemed so absurd that it was with difficulty that Mrs. Stanley, by assuming her look of greatest severity, forbade evén an exchange of glances between her daughters, The old woman in the meantime bad presented the letter to one of the young Indies to read, It proved to be in substance as she had quoted, and was signed “Yore Trully Son, George Wash: ington Brown. “Dat soun’ mighty sweet—‘your truly son,’ ” said the old woma: she heard the words read—‘‘dat soun’ mighty eweet—an’ yit—an’ yit “sputes de jestice, 1 wants ter be cancelized wid Wash, an’ yit when he come ter me, fo’-in- han’ like, an’ offer me de whole load—-tell de trufe, I d’know. Seem like we mout ‘vide up de ‘sponserbility some way, an’ 1'd even gin ‘im he’s ch'ice o' sets. Den agin’ look lak dat ain’t riverind jestice nuther, bein’ as I ain't nothin’ but he's step-mammy, an’ ain't in no Way 'sponserble fur dem twins. Ef I was he's reel nachel mammy, in co'se I'd be, as yer mought say, backhandedly "sponserble fur ‘em. But as Lis, I don't see it—no, I don’t —less'n me a-puttin’ ‘im out'n de house in a manner aggervated ‘im ter it. I ‘ain't done nothin’ but walk de flo’ all de endurin’ night an’ pray, an’ T'ain’t seo no light yit.” “I'l attend to this whole matter for you, Delphi,” says her old mistress, taking advant- age of & first real “Let me write to Wash for you, telling him that you will toxe one ot the older children, but that as you are getting old you cannot do more.” ‘been trying tosecure a child to live with the beside her mistress the purple blossom declared | smile of relief and gratitude that spread! A few days afteward there was an im it 's face was really arrival at Delphi'seabin. Theletierbadbronght ayaa Gord! ole mina, 1) the old husband beck to the feet of his early 3 ve. fries ter squander my shubshance on righteous | A week later the departure A Uvin’, good as I kin, des lak de preacher say. | capacious plantation wagon was piled high with An’ you write de letter, mistus, an’ tell ‘im I ing, boxes and sundry household say ‘seek de Lord while it’s day.” And with id upona foundation of chicken’ out FEES cd eemsion of gratitude Aunt Delphi | of which curious feathered heads; in proceeded homeward with a lighter step eee eee © s arrangement will be jnst the thing,” said her mistress, as she moved away. “'T here aiond. Then, in a voice sctuallp sepulebral in ita deep intensity, sbe exciaimed ~-\Why'n't yer A& me some'h’n’,chillen? Quis- zify me. Put de questions. Ax me whar I bar een rabbita.” ‘th this she lifted into view four little black ebi . starting them up the before her, while she followed, ac’ Ma aloud. “Why'n't yer talk, "she continued, advancing to the still keeping the chil- aren abead of her. Scwhy'n't yer ox me ie 1 se0 double, ur is you see double, ur is Wash behave ‘isse’t double?” And hereelf into a cbsir Ai fell to weeping. even as to size, re about oes ly, stood in a row, each su: her thum) aa inno sa genbarraseed by the presence of strangers; yet a moment one of them began slowly to back from the com- pany, when they all followed, until, touching the wall, they sat down in a row. “Are these Wash’s children?” aske her mis tress, a6 soon as she can command her voice. “Yas, Lord,” she moans, swaying her body toand nd so he brought them all. Where is he? ‘When did they come?" “Hol' on mistus,” she exclaims, waving her hand to command silence. : “Hol’ on an’ lemme start straight. Inde searchin’ hour o' mid- night las’ night, when ev'y hones’ pusson was buried in Christian sleep, deah come ‘ tap-tapl'on my kyabin do’, des easy lak an’ tof’, lak some’h'n* sperityal; an’ T retched up an stricken a match, an’ open de do’ an’ listen, an’ Tain't beerd no soun’, but ‘cep’ one o' deze heah ovsleepless morkin’ birds chantin’ out secon’-band music, an’ I commenced ter won- der is a pecker-wood done riz me out’n my baid ter listen to free music: an’ all de time my eyes wae turned high, an’ I nuver ‘spicioned nothin’ tell right onder my foots deze heah fo’ Plintedly matched babies come e-walkin’ in, des lak you see ‘em now, ev'y ono a-suckin’ ‘er “But where did they come from? Did Wash bring them?” “What ails you, chillen, dat you don't heah me what I si don't know no mo'n dey say, an’ dey ‘ain't showed speech yit.” “And you haven't seen Wash?” “Ain't I talkin’ straight, baby? I say I ‘ain't seed nothin’, neither ‘heerd nothin’. Tell de trufe, ‘cep'n fur de co'n brade dey done et, I'd look fur dem babies ter vanige out'n my sight des Ink dey come. Co'se I done set 'em down ter Wash, bein’ as be done ‘nounced ‘isse'f in de twins trade. Buteh Lord! What I gwi do wid ‘em? An’ de las’ one o' “em cryin’ iz ‘The ladies call the children to them, and by dint of coaxing learn that they “comed wid daddy—to find mammy," and that they an- to the endearing names of Shug, Pud, Hnn and Babe. The conventional list of names had apparently not been taxed for their desig- nation, deeply laid scheme. Wash’s letter was only a ruse to ascertain whether the old woman Delphi still lived or not, and be had cast his children upon her. Poor old Delphi, chafing under the imposi- tion and overcome with the weight of so heavy & responsibility, sat softly weeping, whiie the ladiet assured her’ that she should ‘be relieved. Wash, the poltroon. had covered his tracks well. No one on the place hud seen or heard him and the wheels ‘whose track approached the fence near Delphi's cabin soon returned to the old ruts and left no trace of their course, Delphi's cabin was the same in which Wash had lived a¢achild. Thie fact Mrs. Stanley had unwittingly betrayed in ber letter,in which she pleaded its single room as added excuse for her not taking more than one child. During the two weeka following this letters of inquiry concerning his lordship, the delect- able sire George Washington Brown, were sent to leading persons in the town from whence his letter had been posted, but though several cith zeus of color bore this identical distinguished, if not distinguishing name, no trace of the father of the twins was found. A party of negrocs en route for Kansas had recently passed within five miles of Honeyfield plantetion. Presumably Wash had been of this number. Starting out to begin life afresh he had no doubt made good bis proposal to his stepmother te let by-gones be by-gones. A month passed and no news had come of the recreant father; neither bad the sensation caused by hi's sudden acquisition of family The children, through whom the had been an object of interest far and near, and whose presence bad brought Kencrous gifts from all directions to the little cabin, were still there awaitin, and pending a decision a4 to the best tion to be made of them. Feeling that the matter had better be ar- ranged and the old woman relieved, Mra. ley decided one morning to call at the little cabin to talk the matter over, She had found good homes ready to welcpme two of the chil- dren aud would take a third herself until. she could be permanently provided for. She found Aunt Delphi sitting on the door- step, holding one of the four on either knee, while the other two sat on the ground at hor feet. All were munching huge chunks of corn bread and chattering like magpies. At sight of her mistress the old woman slipped the chil- dren to the ground and, with elaborate apolo- gies for the state of her cabip, which was in- deed strewn with trash, improvised rag babies and pallets, she proceeded to wipe off a chair with her apron before presenting it. “Have you decided which one of the little girls you are going to keep?” Mrs. Stanley asked, after the usual interchange of civilities. ‘The old woman had seated herself opposite her mistress, and at the question she rolled her eyes mysteriously a moment before answering. Finally ehe said, “I b'lieve you's a min’ reader, mistus, I sho does, caze you done read out do subjec’ dat’s been on my min’ all day; but yer ‘ain't read it straight, ole miss—no, yer ‘ain't.” Turning, she looked ‘fondly upon the children and chuckled. “Des look how bappy dey is,” she said. Dey des as happy as a nes’ o° kittens, dat dey is! Why, mistus, I been overrun wid cats all my life, des caze I couldn't say de drowndin ‘ur pizenin’ word ter air kitten what look ter me in weakness, I done let a chicken- devourin’ rat out’n a trap des caze I ketched a rayerin ‘iseye. De way a cockroach run fur ‘is life meck me draw back my brogan an’ let 'im go. How is I gwine part widany o’ dem human babi - “What do you mean, Delphi? You surely cannot wish to keep four children to bring up at your time of life. It would be absurd.” “Hol’ on, mistus, hol’ on. Don't go so fas’! Dem chillen done preached a heap o’ sermons ter me, an’ dey all got de same tex’; an’ dat tex’ hit splains out a new set o’ argimints ev'y time. Howyer reckon I feels, mistus, when T looks at dem babies an’ see how pintedly dey favora dey grandper? Lookin’ at ‘em ev'y day tecks my min’ way back ter my co’ting day: when love soun’ in my ears lak a music chi picked on a banjer. An’ when I looks bagk on my life I see how I loved de_endurin’ soun’ #0 uch Tain’t keer who play de music. 80 by-gone pictur’s come back ter me, one by one; but de one dat stay wid me is de one wha’ show me my fus’ busban', Dan; an’ I eee how I done trifted wid ‘im, an’ de quarl we had when I back an’ go one better'n him ev'y time (caze we was bofe high temprate). An’ den I ‘member de fight he fit wid Abum Saunders, *eaze Abum's love chune please my hearin’. Den come back # yether pictur’—ole Dan de way my min'see ‘im now, * maybe, an’ lonesome, fe lawful wedded wife, peurt little gran'babieso' his'n right heah—next do’ ter 'im, de way Gord reckon space. way de sermon reed, an’ deze oncomsecious in- fams dey preaches it at me, unbeknowinst, ter meck up wid dey grandper, an’ I ain't gwine ‘zist de spirit no mo’. Egwine meek de move- mint ter be cancelized Dan; an’ if he’s sick, I gwine nuss 'im; an’ ef he’s cranky an’ fussy, I gwine shet my mouf an’ say nothin’; but I'gwine back ter 'im—dat is, ef he'll teck me! An’ ef you got a argimint ‘agin it, mistus, don’t spressify it in my hearin’, please, ma'am, *eaze my min’ made up.” Mrs. Stanley realized that it would be some- what inconsistent with her own professions to oppose a reconciliation between husbaud and Tile, and se soon 0s she could recover from yr 6ui atthe unexpected turn the affair was tallng, she wiohed the old worman oil possi- ble success and happiness in the step she had red to take. Indeed, before she had left the cabin she had herself written at her dicta- tion the letter the old wife afterward husband from whom she had been estranged for thirty years or more, ‘The moves slowly down the road, sotalarct on comer the pines Selght bouyest af onion’ he covanteadl gust.ot wind [ even while the is bi suck ef cater the wagon is but a g and the effect is much bsened by the sound of a second voice, a wiry high tenor, playing al) around the wiud-watted words— 7 to part no mo'—no mo’. ‘Written for The Evening Star. Give ne a rest, O ye who gring A grist whereby my ear'e oppressed, ‘That brings but shrieks, groans, moans to mind— Give us a reat ‘Your organ’s discord I detest; Porsuch mere din ye'll never and A nickel in my ooas or vest. ‘To keep the pedce wontd I could bind ‘You over who my peace molest, But, as I can't, for once be kind— Give us a rest, 2. Organophitua. Grind on—draw rear! As by a bird ‘That ptpes in springtime of the year. I by your warbling chest am stirred. Grind on—¢raw near: Tt softly soothes my listening ear, ‘When I by tot! and care am spurred, ‘Drives off the bines and brings me cheer. ‘Though some have at your tunes demurred And bid you trot, with frown and sneer, I welcome all your wandering herd. Grind on—draw near! 8. Organomisua. Nuisances, sure—a notsome fry— ‘That tortures ‘cause I can’t endure, And would old Job’s long patience try— Nuisances, sure! 1s there no way such {Ils to cure? No refuge whither one might ay, Where organs there are none or fewert IT would they'd wheel thelr boxes by, Their notse, unground, therein immure, ‘Their tedious trade no longer ply— ‘Nuisances, sure! & Organophius. Who'd grudge to pay—'tis cheap—a dime Or baif for those tine aire they play, So merry, solewn, oF sublime— Who'd grudge to pay? "Tis pleasant one’s tired steps to stay, To cease the stairs of toil to climb, While these grind grim annoy away. In him no reason 1s, nor rhyme, Whom such sweet music cannot sway. For such a grist of tune and time Who'd grudge to pay? 6. Organomisus. Say what you will, they are a curse, And quiet streets with uproar dl, Than which, methinks, could naught be worse, Say what you will. A howling dog, a clattering mth, ‘Tohear I should be iess averse; A bellowing bull were less an ill. And they expect us to disburse For racket that’s enougn to kill! Would that the law the crew’d disperse, ‘Say what you will. 6 Organophiius. Don’t be so hard! These men are poor; ‘Thetr road to plenty fate has barred; Many the croases they endure. Don't be so hard! What though by time and chance be marred Some of tueir tunes, yet J am sure Some few with favor all regard. | Prom children’s palms they penntes lure, ‘Nay, always from our kindly bard, Longfellow, they could coin secure. Don’t be so hard! 7. The Same. Don't bid them go! Let them grind on, E’en while November's breezes blow, And withered leaves strew street and lawn. . Don't bid them go! When ways ure blocked with tce and snow, And panes are dim with frost at dawa, Their grinding then must cease, you kuow. ‘When you in warm rooms feast &nd yawn, ‘They, hungry ‘and cold, perhaps—funds low— Will mourn thelr occupation gone. Don’t bid them go! —W. LS. a The Panama Canal. In voting to prosecute the projectors of the Panama canal the French cabinet may be said to have retreated to the last ditch.— Baltimore Herald. De Lesseps will como out of the Panama scandal with a clear reputation as to honesty, but with his fame as a great man ing con siderably at the knees.—Chicago Tribune. ‘The Panama canal scandal is already bearing its fraite of suicide and promises to be the | death of several promising presidential booms. But will any amount of official investigation re- store to the poor people who subscribed to the jock the millions of which the company has beon plundered?—Omaha Bee. The French chamber of deputies might a well form a ring.—Detroit Free Press. ———— To a $5 Bill. Froin Life. William, I have not seen you for a long time. We have not been intimate friends; and yet the fault has not been mine. I have sought you /erywhere and other places, I would that I might keep you bere in my room. I would that we might be always to- gether. How faithful I would be to you if you Would but be faithful tome. But, alas! It is not to be. Affection such as mine for thee was born but to be blighted. Come, I will introduce you to the landlady: and she’in turn will present you at the court of the seller of hams and bacon. How terrible your fate! It is indeed sad that you may not remain in good society. —_—_——_+o2—____ An Improvised Merry-Go-Round. From the Fitegende Blatter. house and wept ber parting tears, ‘through Wa eat tae happen a waved good bye from te gus of ee £ house and the old te his bat Coming be todtie oats my) was Ba £0 Gils motel hod ban eb the children, but now the; {ng the otber bigh Cd HUNGRY FOR SPOILS. Office Seekers Eager for Places Under the Coming Democratic Rule. | MR. CLEVELAND'S MAIL./ He Gets 1,500 Letters a Day—The Coming First Assistant Postmaster General and His | Ax—He Controls 226,000 Places—Queer | People Who Want Omces. ROM NOW UNTIL HIS inauguration Mr. Cleve- | and’ mail, notwith- | standing bis recently | uttered protest, will | certainly average at least 1,500 letters daily. That wat about the number President Har- rinon received from im- | mediately after his elec- | tion, and ix jumped to 2.000 per diem after his arrival at the White Rouse. About nine-tenths of all such com- munications are from office seekers, The rest | mostly convey advice and suggestions, offer | congratulations and give warnings, friendly and otherwise. “Better wear a shirt of mail, wrote one timid citizen to the present chief executive four years ago, while another gave Notice of the subscriber * intention to blow bim up witb dynamite. As is customary with them at such times, cranks of all kinds in every part of the country are now “taking pen m hand” to address the President-elect by post. No wonder he threntens to sechude himself from the world until March 4 THE OFFICE SEEKING EIDE Whenever a change of trationocenrs @ sort of fever for office secking becomes epidemic among the people. For months after Mr. Cleveland comes in the time of bis, Private secretary will be chiefly occupied | with receiving — applicatione for places under the government, and the anteroom at the White House will be crowded at all hours with Congressmen and others eager to | secure plums of patronage. The “very hungry and very thirsty” will swarm upon Washington like grasshoppers upon a green vegetable % and the “swish” of the decapitating ax wielded by Mr. Clarkson's successor will be coutinualiy | heard in the Post Office Department, THE POST OFFICE EXECUTIONER. The first assistant postmaster general 1s con- spicuously the man of awe and dread when a change of administration has come about. He disposes as he choosesof nearly allof the 230,000 offices in the Post Office Department, which has ten times the patronage of all the other depart- | ments of the government put together. All of | these, except about 600 clerks in the classified service and 8,200 previdential postmasters, be controls, chépping off heads and filling p according to bis tency. He holds in the b of his band 65,000 post offices. However, 25,000 of these yield less than $100 of salary yearly, and the incumbents in most cases will not find the loss of their positions a great mi fortune. Already the Post Ofice Department | is receiving scores of letters daily from such | fourth-class postmasters, who are anxious to resign. One of them writes: “If T give up my post office plant for $1,000 toa democrat, will you appoint him and will vou guarantee the ee- curity of his situation during the coming four years?” While wielding the ax Mr. Clarkson's successor will make his appointments usually in obedience to the » expreswed by Congress men as to the distribution of the patronage in their respective districts. Early in the present « iministration four confederates from Alsbama came to the Office Department for the purpose of urging the appointment of a certain individual as postmaster in their town. Mr. Clarkson said: | “Who is this other man whose appli the same place has already been filed they replied, “‘he is only an ex-Union soldie he hasn't any friends.” “Well,” remarked Mr. Clarkson, “be has one friend anyway. I ap- point him." On another occasion a rather unprepossessing applicant for a postmastership was accompanied by a very attractive wife, who did all the talking in advocacy of the ap pointment. Finally Mr. Clarkson said to the man: “I cannot appoint you, but I'll tell you what I will do—T'll appoint your wife.” And he did. IN THE TREASURY DEPARTMENT. Applications are already beginning to pour into the Treasury Department for offices under the coming administration. Many people evi- dently imagine that Mr. Cleveland is now in stalled White House. ‘The impudence exhibited by some of these seekers for places is astonishing. Only the other day an exception- ally importunate one was on the point of strik- ing the private secretary of the Secretary of the Treasury with a paper weight because that offi- cial refused to devote his entire attention to forwarding the claims of the petitioner. But the appointment clerk of the treasury hes the worst of it. A fortnight agos woman came into his office and said: “‘1 have come for a po- sition and I mean to have it. I ehan’t leave the building until I get it. “I regret to say that there is no vacancy, madam,” replied Gen. McCauley. ‘Then discharge somebody and make a va- | \ ex- Post .”" said the general. “Then I will stay here and starve,” declared the woman. “All right, madam,” assented “Sit down and starve comfortably, But she would not accept the invitation. Se preferred to goto the ante room of the Sec- retary of the Treasury, where she drove the general. officials nearly distracted. Finally they ap- pealed to the appointment clerk and he tried to persuade her to leave. “No,” she insisted, “I prefer to starve right here.” “But, madam,” protested Gen. Me “you can starve just as well in my room, there is a pleasant corner which you can all to yourself.” “I choose to starve on this spot,” responded the woman with emphasis, She has so tar kept het word as to spend every day ince then from 9 to 4 in the ante room, to the great dis- comfort of the clerks. IMPORTUXATE WOMES. The women who apply for places are very hard to get rid of. When informed that there is no vacancy they usually say: “The secretary can always make one more position.” Many of them make most humble aud pathetic appeals, saying: “For God's sake, let me scrub the floors or do anything by which I may earn my bread.” Yet these same individuals, after se- curing situations and occupying them for two or three days, are pretty sure to demand three things—promotion, leave of absence and lighter work. ‘omen can never be covvinced that —_ ns States Senator, bombarding btm by mail. Once a week regularity from ber a long Sometimes be got twr wae i a . ‘neve i qj she fist il df 4 bad gone on for five or six monthe be became desperate. So finally be wrote to ber, saying: “Your poems bave proved to me that you are unfit for anv public offee Nevertheless, if you will cease Writing and sending them wo we will get youa job.” And be did. It te recorded that aman appointed under the sixth auditor of the treaeurr subject to em- emination wat asker to etate the distance of the moo: His written answer enough toatect the He being examined for emplow- mt in the treasury, was asked how mauy sol ders Engiand sent to thie daring dhe revolution His answer was, “ 4 eaght more than ever got back.” A TRALALOO FMPLOTR. Many queer people get into the government employment. One day not jong age the ap- f one of the departments desk and beheld in bie door woman of middie age ina very pantalets, with a lithe bit of @ haton one side of her head, waving «green mae phvant for the powerful mda. ence of a Senator, she got a place not inciuded am the classified serv» = few dave later, No sooner was abe installed than ehe proceeded to pointing officer looked np from by way a large Gat up the highest kind of Jinks, so that tam forewoman ander i wae obliged to de, she said: “I want to have « talk with 2 the woman im the to the fore buncd of fe mt understand, said the fore woman. ““Iwant® to «peak ‘to you serioudly. must settle d to work. onded the new clerk, dancing eflect of the o bon- 7 added: said the fore This seemed to amuse the lady in the pantee lets great! she coboed ha! Givebim p' kissing her hand asthe danced lene, after hw AME Very joc 8 talk with the niand «ince them ‘ t the bas beer working hard. COULDN'T BEAR AND COULDN'T WRITE, A nice-looking old gentleman with a florid complexion approached she appointment clerk of the treasury the cation for ap day with a» appli- reed by some letters of recommendation. When the official arked him & question he said: “Please write it down. I | am vo deaf that J could not hear a sound if on were fired off close to my ear. Gen, MeCauley though: disadvantage for an applicant for employment as ncletk, but he asked the stranger to write his name and address. The old gentleman ebook hits head. “It is impossible,” be said. “T cannot write at all, because my band is pak sied.” There are ever eo many people who imagine that the government departments are axylumns for the invalid and belpless of every descrip J tion. THE NEWSPAPER WEN. There is a widespread popular impression that the newspaper correspondents of Washing- ton have more influence in the matter of offices than is ponsossed by Senate: tives, To come extent thi are about twenty newspaper here through their wide aud intimate scqnaintance with powerful political personages, can bring to bear a very strong pet affairs. But. ugh it see y because they use it. They are continually receiving from office seekers, Dut they cannot afford to respond to them. By doing so they would make the great men shy of them and would destroy the intimacy on which they depend fot recur ing the news information which they live by selling. Only now and then do they make aa exception, usually in favor of some broken- down journalist who needs a place, or to get employment for the widow of # newspaper man, WHEN THE OFFICE SEEKERS WILL SWARM. With the coming in of the new administra tion the swarm of office seekers will arrive im Washington. Allof them will reach here in high confidence of getting places under the goverpment, and nine-tenths of them will go away disappointed after eating ont their hearts with waiting and hope deferred. The 3 majority of those who do succeed will be obliged to be content with tions much lower in the public service than they secure. In numerous of some distinction who journeyed here with aspirations for poste ‘of high honor and emolument under one administration oF other have been glad to get situstions finally as messengers in the departments. History in this matter repeats iteelf every time that one political party goes out and another comes in. Those who fail, as their money rune low. drift out of the hotejs into the houses, finally falling bask on be free lana, route. Last scene of all, which ends this ad, eventful history, is the appeal addressed by the disappointed office ‘seeker to. hie Congressman for a loan to pay his car fare home. Undoubs- these place hunters are mostly ot some importance where they live. But the fever for halding public office attacks and they abandon everything else to try for it When thes get it the glamour of the lite holds them so that ther are never satisfied to abandon it. Even the Congressmen who fail of re- election are eager to get back into employment 8 clerks in the legisiative halls where once they exercised control over the affairs of the nation. eee Electric Lights in Country Places. From the Chicago News-liecord Dwellers iu country places who are desirous of introducing electricity into their houses bat are far away from any source of current will read with interest how a landlord who lives im the heart of the Scotch mountains bas brought all the luxuries of electric lighting and power into his secluded mausion. He first made bis mind that he would have the electric rent, and then proceeded to find meaus of se curing it. His place was fully ten miles from the nearest railway station, and as the price of coal under those Conditions would come to 69 or €10 a ton the cost of driving the dynamo by steam power would have been very high. Near the house was a mountain side down which the water flowed freely, and this was forthwith utilized, The coutents of three burns were discharged into a dam three-quarters of a mile from the house, and the dam, which covered about a rood of ground snd was four- teen fect deep, was fitted up with » filter bank the sand. From the dam the weter veyed about 500 yards in tenanch iron pipes to the dynamo house. there is any sincerity in the civil service law, | Name room, which measured | (> #1 3 They almost always think thet they can get | turbines are 12}; horse power each, end around it and secure places in the classified ser- | srrangements are made so that one turbine and vice through infuence. In the days when the | °° machine can run, or the two together if system was universal not a few attractive | O08 mache con rc ieled. by tie omduce Dut unprincipled persons of the gentler sex | tors trom the dynamo to the house, « distance and held employment in the depart: | cr between 400 and 800 yards, and there are Se a S t#,and | branches from the house to the stable end there was much on this account. Jnundry, about 200 rarde berond. | The prem- WOMEN AXD THE CIVIL SERVICE. inwe are ited with fully 990 ta hich are nt women are gradually disappearing } distribu — acibis akeoun the smoking room, the billiard and a . sew yeers | other rooms. All *he bed roome are lit with there will be comparatively fow of them in the | S4) ernie crystal pendants, and thereare socke employment of the government at Weshington, | ste tor lamps The adjustable oo the fact that twice as many | above the mirrors in the bed rooms are quite Sn er This result, it | new feature. The landlord is delighted at bav- is brought about by causes | ing, at a comparatively small cost, been able to are pow in operation. All persons en- | make all the between comfort end tering the classified service must come discomfort in bis secluded residence in the civil sertice i peek Ee RS civil da vacancy the | motive power a datter- civil service commissioners send in three names, fos is entirely dispensed with and an immeune froin oie ono is appointing | saving of money is effected. official. In supposing pesenne heey ole hat the three names include both sexes, « man Sinan Sooo scems very unjust, fok it is evi- | Prom the New York Truth. dent enough. A chi Prefers men ae subordinates Testraint in their ‘wear occa- if be do odd jobs which be would not like clerks. Thus of the women worth on - ye that way, tics by the civil service commission, yet tt leave a very big for the exercise of predilection on grounds, since the pointing oficere, are very apt to take pains out which of the three candidates offered to fill a vacancy is of the correct political per-