Evening Star Newspaper, May 27, 1893, Page 17

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. C., SATURDAY, MAY 27. 1893—-TWENTY PAGES. TO WIN OR LOSE. Tn the Gambling Halls of Gay Monte Carlo. INSIDE THE CASINO. ‘Types of Players at the Roulette Tables— Working Out = System — The Chances Against the Player—A Square Game, but a Losing One in the Long Eun. Special Correspondence of The Evening Star. Pants, April 10, 1893. HERE IS MANY A dull afternoon in the fashionable months of cheerless solitude, wreathed round with “driving vapor, and there are rocky heights that seem suspended in = chaos between the Mediterranean and the sky. Sometimes the fog will break and show a villa town lying green and flat in the deep blue below, some- times a distant view of higher peaks swims into sight from the shifting cloud. But the scene is desolate. With the hoarse sea beat- tag and thundering on the beach you walk out im the tempest for some exercise and wonder at the Riviera, tp Y A GHARMING PLACE WHEN THE WIND 1s KOT BLOWING. Another day will come and all is sunshine. Everything 1s beautifal There are pale lemon groves olives stretching their ~~ —— against the lonely moss-grown stone fence them in. And there are oranges and Mandaring, and ranning springy with horbs and green grass growing on their banks ani dark blue violets that hang upon their brink “The limpid water resembles liquid pearls, and their basin is the sea; you would say that the branches of the trees stretched down to see ‘the fishes in the pool and smile at thom. The ripe oranges are like fire that burns on boughs ‘emerald; and the pale lemon reminds me of a lover who has passed the cight in weeping for his absent darling.” Such is the poetry of the Arabian sags, A FAVORITE PROMENADE. and too oriental lithographs of the Paris- company, which they have walls of Paris and of Lon- lored chromos that the dank fogs of the north like adreadfal sea at night, there is hing irreaistibly fascinating to the shiv- a = AT THE ROULETTE TABL the crackling of gravel under the heel of some pensive promenater, or the distant plaintive cries of Italian donkey drivers or peddlers far tt Monte Carlo hangs eepisabevs te ven ia above the sea own place, serene, implacable, Admission to the is easy. although Robert Lents Stevensta anys that bo wes cue denied entrance on account of his personal appearance. The question is not whether you can get in, but whether you wish to go in. You card ut the door and are present your visiti given a ticket ir ibed witn your name. good Fa ae the one day. After this the place is to you to go andcome quite as you please. ly you are not allowed to enter the halls in an overcoat that has a cay The faterlur of the Casino. haa many richly decorated. There are halls for nading, for reading and writing, theat serious orchestral music, and other rooms for the usual purposes of aciub. All these are free to any one who comes. Many visitors are here daily, simply to lounge and taste the dolce far niente surrounded by quiet luxury which other people pay for. There are others who retire to these recreation rooms after the A WINNER. chagrin of losses, to prepare new campaigns against the bank, or to hastily count the money they have won. A great deal of indignation is exploded from time to time in the public press against the immorality of this gambling resort. Two things, however, are certain. First. no one is obliged to come to Monte Carlo. It requires time and money and a deliberate purpose. The second fact is that the bank at Monte Carlo is unique in the world. It is not only absolutely fair, but no where else is the maxi- Again, in the roulette they have only the sin- gis Zero for their commission, and only tako if the money on the table when the zero omes. The play is in silver, gold and notes, ver in chips. The bank exposes an enormous capital and its losses are always paid. There- fore, if one must gamble, half the malice of the game is here destroyed. It is not like a little faro bank with a confederate to lean be- tween the greenhorn and the dealer at the Proper moment. Nor is it a “‘snap” game with all ita capital in the pocket of an irresponsible Proprietor. “BORROWING.” ‘The play is conducted every afternoon and night throughout the whole year. There ure many roulette tables and a fair number for rouge et noir. These are in large halis open- ing into each other, with high ceilings, well ventilated and well lighted. Silence reigns in these hails of fortune, with the whirl and click of the balls and the monotonous call of the croupier. You sit or stand at a table, place your money in the chosen division and’ await ‘the result At your right there will be a Rus- sian prince playing close up to the maximum, and at your other side an Englishman and his wife operating a fallacicus “martingale.” with one pile of five-frane pieces and another of gold louis for their capital There is no end to “systems” and their players, ‘At both Nice and Monte Carlo there are special shops devoted to the sale of small gambling apparatus, cards to be pricked in following the progression of the colors and the figures, cash boxes and satchels, record books and books explaining clearly and simply how to break the bank. There are also numerous loungers about the tables who, under the title of “professor,” continue to find credulous le to intrust them with their play. Perhaps Eait the frequeaters of the tables have some patent system in their minds which they fancy would beat the roulette wheel if they could only have the patience to stick to it, Of all system players the most interesting are those who pin their faith to “‘martingales” and actually play them. There is nearly as much pleasuro standing by their sides, to watch the completion of the arithmetical problem and the final winning of the smail sum so desired, as there i in playing for yourself. These ‘ * players are most often quite newcomers, who have got hold of some well- known old system from a book. Having tried it a few times with success upon a private E. Iithe and muscular garcon with the sharp faco of s detective balances a silver platter with thi fish. He gives each one a portion scarcely larger than a new Columbian postage stamp, but the sauce is at discretion. On the dinner eard they recommend certain of the company’s special wines; and as we are just now booming through the land of Burgundy the choice naturally goes ont to some “victorious” vintage of the “golden slope,” now covered white with snow. FACES IX A DINING CAR, ‘The rapide thunders through the land of Burgundy; at night you see the lights of ‘Tarascon. and in the morning it is Nice and Monte Carlo. GAMBLING AT MONTE canto. ‘The gambling establishment at Monte Carlo is set up in a splendid club house on a level ean overlooking the Mediterranean, In the gardens to its approach there are paims and flowers ; and on the side toward the sea a per- fectly kept promenade stretches along a mag- nificent view. Behind the Casino the fine villas and hotels of Monte Carlo climb up the hill. Monte Cario is a small place. and this portion of it is high up from the traffic of the railroad, secluded. rich looking and quiet. There is no noise in the street and there are no crowds, Now and then the perfect stillness that sits so SOM TYPES AT THE TABLES. 1 upon the calm beauty of the scene ie Trokem by the crack of a gun. This is the | time that iteppeurs all your losses are regained pigeon shooting. Other than it, there is only wheel they feel that a sure thing has been found, ‘The idea of a martingale is to small sum with the least possibl For instance, you have a capital of $200 to hazard, and you wish to win £5 cach day and then stop. If you do this every day the ex- penses of your vacation will be made. It is the simplest thing in the world. Go to the roulette wheel and bet always on the even chance of red. You put #1 on the red uare. The ball whirls round the sunken dise and fails with a click into a compartment, red or black. Suppose it is black, and you have lost $1. Then you bet $2, and if red wins you have your origina! dollar plus the one you Sought to gain. Continue this until you have won $5. But if you also lose the second bet, you go on doubling until you win, placing $4 on the third trial, #8 on the fourth, $16 on the fifth, $32 on the sixth, #64 on the seventh, when. if you have still lost each time, your $200 capital is 0 depleted that you cannot bet the necessary £123 on the eighth turn. This is a grave defect. If you could forever double, red must turn up soon, and the first | pius—what? ‘The one miserable dollar that you started out to win! The remote possibility of an unlucky run that will exhaust your capital, for the sake of gaining a veritable trifle, is suf- ficient to make the amateurs quite timid of this system. i The truth is that few amateur gamblers have achance of discovering the fallacy of any sye- | tem. They leave off playing it even while they believe in it, The excitement of the game. the influence of the play of others round about them, the impatience of restraint, shame to be A LOSER. seen playing so carefully, all these forces unite to produce reckless and fantastic gam- bing. T have met men with sure ent from these simple marti stems not | founded on “progressions” but “on a general law of physies—the law of equilibrium!” One | old bird. who is always on the point of making a fortune at the tables but never does it, has a complicated plan for balanced equal bets on various selected number-squares. He declares that he kuows at least two hundred other ays- | tems, “every one of which is a dangerous mir- | age.” for each one of them has its “jamp” and its “fatal exceptions.” As for progressidns, be will bave none of them. “I see but one porsible progression,” he once said, “and this falls back into the realm of | | ystems very differ- | jual bets, It is that which should from a.ingle unit after each day of low Thus, after having played an entire session with in- variable flat bets of $1 each, if you have lost in EXPLAINING THE SYSTEM. the aggregate. play the next day in flat bets of 2 each, third day with €3, and so on, until you hi aired all your losses plus the oe egate of what you set out to gain for eacl jay’s play. Then you begin again with the single dollar bet.” He philosophical and declined to pla; the thing himself. He recognized, he sai that in such a progression of $1 every twenty- four hours more than three yi would have to elapse before the bank’s limit should be reached at rouge et noir. This would make the plan infallible, with sufficient capital, if one were content with an average gain of $8 or €10 each day. PUNCH AND JUDY ON THE ESPLANADE. “But,” he continued, “have you ever seen any one playing regularly dent manner during tive mon sufficient funds to play otherwise? No, as surediy; people are too greedy and too wenk, His own system it is impossible to explain outside the limits of a book. It requires half adozen players, working in concert, each in his own line, to bring about a total result. “There are some candid enough to say to me, since your method is so sure, why do you not put it in practice for your own account? Although thix objection has its naivete and shows a complete ignorance of the question of play, I willask you how long it is since the architect wno conceives the plans of a house is obliged to build it by himself? Must he not have the assistance of acrowd of arms? The same with pl On this point he is very eloquent and has a theory quite ingenius for his justification. “Every solitary player,” he says, ‘docs the following beautiful trade,it is full of comedy. At each table there are eight employes, who come ia four relays, which makes thirty-two croupiers, fresh and alert, Therefore the solitary player is one against forty chiefs of a party, counting the supervising inspectors, All these forces should produce a result, He is really one against fifty, taking account of disturbing ele- ments, and if he wins he wins against a hun- dred or a thousand on the score of capital—for the bank will not be discouraged, while h withont support, will become demoralized will throw up the game, if he is not ri actually, The time to’ recoup himeelf come just at the moment when he is excited. Pity the foolish man who believes that with a few thousand francs he can struggle alone against an army and unlimited capital.” Stentixe Hero, ———_e-___ NOT EXPRESSED IN FANCY. Modesty is Fashion’s Mandate for Men’s Attire This Summer, From the Haberdasher ‘This summer we are going to be governed by very simple rules, The key to the entire scheme of dress ix modesty. Nothing can be overdone on that side. Extremely quiet colors, the darker tones predominating, and very little Jewelry to set the ensemble off, is the edict. Brilliante and bright-shining gold ornaments are tabooed. It is bad form to wear diamonds, watch chains, bejeweled lockets and diamond rings and diamond pins. Large cuff jewelry or scarf jewelry should not be worn at any time. ‘The proper jewelry for the scarf isa small gold pin, ornamented with pearls. The coro- net, butterfly, clover leaf and other devices are'popular. “These pins aro of dull-finished gold, and very little of that precious metal shows. ‘The link buttons should be of dull- finished gold, without any jewols. The shirt juds should be of the same métal and finish. Watch chains should be of small, delicate links of gold and should run from the’ watch pocket straight across the vest to the pocket on the other side. Separable cuffs are very popular with that class of men who like to save a few cents on the laundry bill. Your well-dressed man never wears separable cuffs, His cuffs are made upon the shirt, The best shirts of English make have cuffs four inches deep, and the buttonhole is atleast 15; inches from the edge. Collars should be attached to the shirt, but the rule is broken by many. The separable collar is still too popular to even feel in the slightest degree the mandates of fashion which condemn it, Poke collars are not quite so high as they were last winter. _ ‘The latest poke gives a man room for chin motion. ‘The old style was even painful to that class of mon who preferred gar- roting to being out of style. ‘Turn-over point collars are still in favor. But these are the solid collars. ‘Those with the inserted points do not find favor with the swell. ‘Turn-down col- |larsare destined to figure prominently this summer. ‘The best shape is that with a moder- high band, long points and small front pacing. Itmust beacollar that will fit the smail knot snugly. — A Bargain Driven by Emerson. From the Boston Givbe. We were speaking of Emerson, and I had shown my idolatry of that sweet Athenian Yan- kee when my friond said: “There is no ques- tion that Ralph Waldo Emerson was a grand old American Socrates, or Plato, if you will; but much of the starch of my veneration for him was taken out by the way he once contended with the news dealer at the Causeway street end of the Fitchburg depot, for the reduction of the price of a Boston evening daily paper, because it was of the issueof a day or two previous. It reminded me of tho huckstering Iwitnessed ina bakeshop some time before, where a woman insisted on having a 5-cent lont for 3 cents because it was two days old, and finally, after a wordy contention with’ the worthy white-eapped baker, compromised by paying 4 cents for the brea Ralph, the venerabie, had the courage of his mercenary convictions, and insisted for a time on having a cent reduction on the price of the paper. ‘The newsdealer, too, had the cour- age of his trade, and did not ‘seem to care a baubee for the ‘author of the ‘Over Soul,’ al- though I found afterward that he knew the in- tellectually august gentleman with whom he was dealing. Knowing the person of the Con- cord philosopher I was amused enough to wait over another train, had not the purchaser and vender compromised, and the dear good man bought the wished-for old paper with another of that evening's issue.” ——ro+____ What She Would Get. From the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette, In one of the kindergartens the teacher was endeavoring to familiarize the children with the words ‘‘cold” and “hot” at sight without spelling them by letters. When she asked them what they would get if they went out of doors in winter without their coats, and pointed at the word, they caught the cue at once and | answered “cold” instantly. But “hot” proved a puzzler for a moment. Now, Mary.” said the teacher to the little girl in the end seat, “suppose that you were standing right close up in front of a tremendous great big fire, just flaming and flaring and burning and blazing away—what would you | et? Se"Td get right away from there,” replied the child in a matter-of-fact tone that upset the in- structor for the afternoon. THE GOLDEN ANGEL THE ROMANCE OF AN OLD COIN. BY HENRY HERMAN. L HE WAS ONLY A flower girl, and a very little one at that, though she was past seventeen years of age. Not too rosy, nor too chubby either, but pale beneath her freckles, with big gray eyes that seemed to try to glitter brightly, but mostlikely had forgotten how to do £0 since she was ababy. ‘A pleasant face, child- ish—impish if you like—if not over clean, with tousled hair which varied between auburn and red as the sun shono upon it, or the London smirchy gray prevailed. A frail little creature, thinly and poorly clad in spite of the howling April wind that cut around corners and rushed along the street gathering up the dust and hurling it into people's facos—a bleak unman- nerly wind that made tho wayfarers wish them- selves at home, and sent the little flower girl shivering and shaking into a nook in the wall, where a great towering column sheltered her from the cold. She hnd just sold a small bouquet toa gentle- man. The gentleman had been very unkind, and had nearly made her cry. He was a tall, Father good-looking mnn, with flerce black evos and a black mustache, such as she had seen the fiends in the pantomime wear. He had pulled her flowers about, and had spoiled one of her rettiest roses, and thrown it back into the ket. He had said that this one was faded, and that one not worth picking up in the street, although she had bonght all’ only that very morning—very, very early that morning—at Covent Garden market. Had business been better she would have told him that he did not know his own mind, that her flowers were nice —as nice aa any in the Strand—but she had had no customers that day.and had not taken a cop- per before that gentieman came; and although she had to suppress her sobs, and felt a ball rising in her throat as the gentleman handled her rosebuds 4o roughly, she forebore and said nothing, and was very glad indeed when he flung a handful of coppers into her hand and went away. ‘The lady who was with the gentleman had reproached the man for being so unkind to the little girl. She had said that the flowers were very pretty, and that she Mked them; and the littie flower girl—Tom, they called her—had thought her a very beautiful lady indeed, And as she came to think of it she remembered that she had seen that lady's likeness at the print shop further down the Strind, whero they exhibited the photographs of lailies—of great lndies—of queens and actresses—of singers and duchesses. Yes, she was sure she had seen that lady’s portrait there—that kind, lovely lady's. And as she was shrinking in her corner to keep out of the way of the cold blast that scoured the pavement,she looked at the handful of coppers, which the gentleman had given her. Loand behold! Among the bronze there was something that shone yellow—a golden coin— a golden coin larger than a sovercign, nearly as large as the coppers among which it Iny. A curious coin. Ithad two holes in it—one at ench side—little holes such as a man might bore through the coin to hang it on his wate chain, And she stood looking at the coin in a quaint amazement, forgetting for the moment where she was and what she was doing—a golden coin was so very much out of her way. She had never had one in her life but once, and that was a half-sovercign which she had been com- pelled to change the moment she had got it, “Hallo! What ye got there?” ‘Tom looked up in # fright. Tho voice was gruff and harsh: A big, roughly bearded iceman was standing in front of her, with is legs apart, and his hands behind his ‘buck, scowling ut her. “Well, what ye got there?” ho repeated. “Ain't you got a tongue?” “don't know what it is, Mr. Policeman,” ‘Tom replicd with a slight shiver. It was to cold, and the policeman’s yoice sounded so severe, “Don't know what you've got! That's a nico tale, ain't it! Fork it over.” Without waiting he stretched out a hand and took the coin. “Gold! he said, “furrin’ gold!" He looked wr Tom squarely in the face. “And where id you get that from, please?” he asked. “A gentleman that bought a flower gave it to me among his coppers,” Tom answered faintly. “Oh!” exclaimed the constable, “A gennel- man give it to you. And where's the gennelman, if you don’t mind?” ‘He's gone, sir. Ican't see him any more, oir." Hooky Walker!” exclaimed the constable. “You'll have to try and make the inspector be- lieve that. You come along o' me. “Oh, don’t take me to the station, Mr. Police- man," she said. “Idon't want the money. I didn’t ask for it, and I didn't know I'd got it until just then, “You go and tell that to the inspector,” in- sisted the officer, “‘and no nonsense, now. Just along.” ‘he station at Inst. Ona high stool, ut a desk in the corner, sat the inspector. He did not scem at all @ harsh man, as ho looked her straight in the faco while the constable told him what he knew and gavo him the golden coin. “Do you know the girl?” he asked. “Oh, yes,” replied the ecnstable, of the reguiar flower girls.” “And where do you live, young woman?” he asked Tom. “In Bedfordbury,” was the tear-broken re- ly. P'EDo you know anything about her?” the in- spector asked the constable. “Nothing agin her so far,” was tho answer. “You had better send for Berwick,” smd the inspector. The constable left the place and returned a few.moments afterward with a tall man in or- dinary clothing. ‘The man had a thin, sharp face—a shrewd face, ‘Here, Berwick,” said the inspector, when the man had stepped near, ‘do you kuow any- thing about this girl? “Oh, it’s Tom,” replied the detective. “She's all right. What have you been up to now?” he added, turmng to the poor girl. “Pye done nothing, sir.” Tom eried, “noth- ing at all, and I'm going to lose my afternoon's work, and they've spoilt half my flowera, and they've torn my dresa, all because a gentleman gave me a golden coin that I didn’t want at all. “You had better look at the thing, Berwick,” snid the inspector. “She saysa gentleman gavi it to her in the street among a lot of coppers. The detective took the coin and oxamined it closely. Then he walked to the window with it and scrutinized it even more careful “This is peculiar, he exclaimed, taking a printed paper from his pocket and_stepping to The inspector's side. "Look here, I'd. lay odds that that's a bit from the Pelsmere robbery. You read this and compare.” He laid the printed paper on a table and pointed with his finger toward the spot, where the inspector read as follows: “A bracelet formed of six angels of Henry VI. Each coin has on one side the fi St. Michael standing upon a dragon scription HENRICUS. DI, GRA. REX. ANGL. Z. FRANC. On the reverse a ship with a large cross for a mast, and by the side of the ship a shield with the’ arms of France and England and the inseription FRANCIE, CRUCE. RE- “That's one of them as sure as wo're here,” said the detective. “You look at the little holes on each side. ‘That's where the coins were joined together to make a bracelet of them.” Now, Miss Tom,” he sard, “you answer me straight. You saya gentleman gave you this coin. What sort of a gentleman?” “A tall, handsome-looking gentleman,” Tom answered. “Do you think you'd know him again if you saw him?” “Yes, I should.” Tom replied. “But there was a lady with him, and I know where to find the picture of that lady. It’s in the print shop in the Strand.” The detective looked at the girl with surprise and suspicion. The picture of the lady who was with the man who gave you that coin?” he asked. Yes.” answered Tom confidently. “If you will only let me go, I'll very soon’ show it to you, ‘All right,” said Berwick, ‘Now, dry your eyes and don't cry. If what you say is true no harm shall come to you. You come along with me and show me that picture. I think it’s all right, Mr. Lewis,” he added to theinspector. “I suppose there's no actual charge against her. You can leave her with me. Now, trot along, my dear.” Poor Tom's little heart bounded with joy. | Such a load taken from her. ‘The street was as chill as before, and the wind whistled and | howled as much as ever, but she noticed it not. When the station door opened she felt as if she were going out into the sunshine, though the sky was gray and the people shivered as they ‘she’s one hurried along. Tom peered about her anx- iously, but the horrid crowd was gone. Nobody jeered at her. Nobody looked at her, or even ‘at the detective as they passed along toward the crowded Strand. “Now, I'll buy a flower from you and pay you well,” said the detective, “if what you tell ime is true.” 's quite true, sir,” rejoined Tom, when they had arrived at the print shop. A’ lot of people were standing there gaping at the pho- tographs in the window. Tom had to stretch herself on tiptoe to be able to see. “Look here.” she exclaimed at last. that's the pictare of the lady?” elsmere, by jov “You're sure that’ sure,” replied Tor among thousand. She has such a nice, kind “Lady Pelsmere herself concerned in that robbery,” Berwick said to himself. afraid,” he added, turning to Tom, “I shall have to get vou to go with me, Tom, to identity the lady herself.” IL The Right Honorable the Earl of Pelsmere, G.C.B., G.C.M.G., LL.D., formerly one of her majesty’s envoys extraordinary and ambassador plenipotentiary, at one time a cabinet minister, and at the time of this our present history a member of her majesty’s privy council, was seated in his library in Kensington Palace gar- dens. He was an old man, well on in the seventies, but time, the destroyer, had dealt leniently with him. His face, furrowed by few wrinkles, was still ruddy of complexion. A wholesome vigor was marked about it, and though the hair and the little side whiskers were white and glossy as tho brightest of silver, the eyes s‘ill gleamed with the light of early days. His waa handsome old man's face, a dignified face, the face of a polished statesman and gentleman, As ho sat there in his big li brary chairhe looked shorter than hemight have done when standing, for he was a tall man, though a slight stoop of the shoulder dimin- ished his height. Aman in the early fifties, smoothly shaven and gray-headed, was standing by the library table. He was dressed in irreproachable but unpretentious black of a nearly clerical cut, and looked a picture of the confidential servant of abygone age, a type of which only a few specimens still exist among the retainers of the great English houses, “You have no news, then, about the jewels, Morton?” asked the earl. “None, my lord,” replied the man. “I am very sorry, indeed,” said Lord Pels- mere. “Lam sorry for her ladyship, although she does not seem to feel the loss very keenly. As far as Iam concerned there is among the lot only one object the loss of which I really regret. t bracelet has been in our family for 400 years. The six angels that compose it were given to Hugo de Pelsmere by Margaret, mother of Henry VII, and he carried them on his person on Bosworth Field. After the fight he hnd them made intoa bracelet and gave them to hiswife. “They were my good angels,’ he said, ‘they shail be the Pelsmere’s hereafter.’ Since then every Lady Pelamere has worn them, and now they are gone. Tam sorry, verysorry, that they are lost. I don't believe in luck or bad luck, but there may be something in old sayings after all. And about the other matter?” he asked. “Have you a report for me.” “Here it is,” said Morton, and the earl took the paper handed to him. As he glanced at it his brow darkened and he bit his lip. “You can go, Morton,” he said, and the man left the room. ‘Then he touched a bell and a powdered and plush-liveried servant entered with stately step. rell her ladyship that I wish to see her,” said the earl, and the servant bowed with ‘a deep obeisance and withdrew. “shail have to end this,” Lord Pelamere said to himself. “She does not know she is standing on a brink. It is my fault, perhaps. T ought not to have married a woman young enough to be my granddaughter. It's my fault, my fault, Bad luck!” he added, after a slight pause. “That string of good angels gone out of my house! Bah! I am an old fool to think of such things! But there! I can’t help thinking about them. Since they have been gone, an icy barrier seems to have arisen be- tween Helen and myself.” He rose und walked with slow and measured step toward the window, and looked out half absentmindediy. That's what our new society philosophy brings us to,” he went on in self-communion. “*A wife's happiness, a husband's honor—they have wiped the words from their vocabulary and substituted for them an easy-conscienced phraseology of their own, Ab!” he sighed. “I can well remember the time when a husband, treated as I have been, would have sought his remedy with a pair of hair-trigger pistols. Then your young men about town were more careful in their intercourse with other peo- ple’s wives.”” He turned as the door opened nearly noise- lessly, and Lady Pelsmere entered. She looked even handsomer than she had done in her walking costume, dressed as she was in a Joore wrapper of closely clinging soft silk bor- dered with rich lace. ‘You sent for me, Pelsmere,” she said. Helen,” replied the earl. “Come and sit down by my side. "I wish to speak to you.” She turned aside with'a movement of pout- ing weariness and sat herself down on a low easy chair with tho air of a martyr prepared for her fate. ‘The old earl took a light Chip- pendale chair and seated himself by her side. “I asked you yesterday morning, Helen, not to go out with Capt. Ferrers.” She looked at him languidly and ejaculated ‘an uninterested “Well?” “You did go out with Capt. Ferrers,” the earl continued. She barely turned her head and looked at him again. “Again a meaningless “Well?” es. caped from her lips, “Why did you refuse toconcede to my wish?” he asked. “You were seen with Capt. Ferrers iaymarket matinee, and you were seen at Covent Garden.” ‘The lady raised her eyes, and a faint sneer pursed her lips. our detectives serve you well,” she said. Phe information conveyed to you is quite cor- rect. ily detectives, since you will call them by that ame, have given me much more infor- mation besides what L have told you,” said the earl. “I have learnt sufiicient to ask you to cease all intercourse with Capt. Ferrers, I come to you to ask you to do me this favor—to stop before it is too Inte. Helen,” he went on, with a fervor to which his white bairs gave an unusual dignit: ve me, save yourself, from this impending disgrace. ‘The breath of scan- dal soon tarnishes the fairest reputatioi She stood there fora few heart's beats’ space, silent. mare treating mo asif I were a child, Pelsmere,” she said. “Iam to live a life of a nun, I suppose. You will go nowhere, and I n to live in seclusion with you. Bails, parties, theater, opera, none of these are to be for me, for surely, you cannot expect me to go alone; and if I know Capt. Ferrers it is not my fault. You yourself introduced him to me.” “There you are mistaken, Helen,” interposed tho earl. ‘Capt. Ferrers introduced himself to us on the journey from Rome to Paris. The slight service which he rendered you at the Vintemille custom house about your jewel case was his only introduction; ani, considering that the very case has been stolen from this house, with many more of your valuables, since then, in the most mysterioas manner, I do not value his service very highly. Ido ‘not look upon Capt. Ferrers asa man who would wait to be properly introduced if he desired to force his acquaintance upon a woman.” She burst out itr a peal of mocking, silvery laughter. ~L really believe, Pelsmere,” she exclaimed, “that you are jealous. Confess it now, you aré jealous! ‘The old earl replied with dignity: “Jealous of Capt. Ferrers? No, my dear. Iam jeaious only of Your honor and mine.” “Lean take care of my honor without your interference, Lord Pelsmere,” said the countess, and turned to leave the room, He stopped her ¥ a movement of the hand. “Then you will promise not to see Capt. Ferrers again?” “I promise nothing,” she answered haughtily. “Lam conscious of no act of mine which gives you the right of accusing me.” “Lam not accusing you,” he pleaded softly. “I only wish to warn you.’ A single unguarded step and you will fall beyond my power of help. I know I'am not the agreeable companion you might wish for a husband. You call my ideas old-fashioned, my conversation slow, my man- ner of looking at things out of date, and I feet that you are right. Icannot keep’ pace with the sham philosophy of our modern society. I have been accustomed to look upon wifely love and husband's duty as holy, not as trifles to be played with. Iam old, and I am growing older each day, and I feet it; but love you, my dear Helen, as truly as any husband ean love you, and Lam as jealous of your happiness as a younger man might be. ‘It is not for myself that I'plead, but for you. ‘Think of your fair name. I do not wish you tolive in seclusion, but this man with whom you spend your hours is not worthy of your consideration. I have | learnt a great deal about him. His eonversa- tion is pleasant and polished, I admit. but surely you have not permitted him to become indispensable to you. Oh, Helen, it would be too monstrous—too shocking!” “No man is indispensable to me,” the countess replied pointedly; “‘and feeling’ guilty of no wrong I will accept no man's dictation.” A faint knock was heard at that moment, and in answer to Lord Pelsmere’s “Come in” a servant entered. “I'm sorry to disturb your lordship and your ladyship,” he said, “but there's a man in the hall who said that he wished to speak with her ladyskip on urgent business, I told him that | her ladyship was with you. “So much the better.’ There's a young girl with him, and he gave me his card and this.” ‘With that be handed to the astonished earl a visiting card and a golden coin. The earl read aloud the words printed on the card, “James Berwick, Metropolitan Police, Criminal Investi- gation Department,” and passed the card to the nr he is here abo: “I suppose ere about the robbery, m; dear,” he said, “Tt will hardly be necessay} tex you to see him.” “He said that he particularly wished to seo her ladyship,” interposed the servant. “All right, Brown,” said the earl, “‘show the man in here. He had been turning the coin carclesly in his hand, but when the servant had left the room his glance alighted upon it, and a faint ery of surprise eseaped him, “One of our good angels come bac! claimed. ‘*Look here, Helen, this is angels. which com) your _bracelet—the bracelet which has been in the Pelsmere fam- ily ever since the Tudor days, and which was stolen, together with the other jewelry. Onv cannot possibly mistake the coin. There are the little holes on each side through which the rings were fastened that held the bracelet to- gether. How was this found, I wonds ‘The countess looked at the coin wearily. “Tam sure I cannot guces.” she answered. “I don’t want to be bothered about this. It was quite enough to lose my jewels without being troubled with the prosecution of the man who stole them. If they have found him, #0 much the better. I donot wish to have anything to do with it.” ‘The servant entered at that moment ushering in Berwick and Tom. Tom had put on her prettiost dress. Poor as it was it was simple and neat. Her disheveled hair had been smoothly combed, and thus attired and fur- bished ‘she looked really nice. The girl recognized Lady Pelsmere the moment she saw her. “That's the Indy,” she exclaimed. “I know her again. ‘That's the lady, Mr. Berwick, who was with the gentleman. ‘Tho countess looked at Tom through her eye- ‘and he simply said: you are the little flower girl,” she exclaimed, “whom we met on the road to the Haymarket yesterday. Why do you come to me toda: “I have been in such trouble, my lad, Tom, nearly tearfully. ‘The gentle was with you gave me a golden coin among the coppers, and they took me to Bow street police station, wanti how I'd got and from whom I'd got nd Ttold them ali I knew. And now this gentle- man bas brought me here to snow him that it was really you who was with the gentleman who gave it to me.” Lady Pelamere’s face had turned a ghastly white. She gripped the back of achairin a nervous tremor, and clung to it. “Capt Ferrers gave you that coin?” she asked, hoarsel, “The gentleman who was with you gave it to me,” Tom answered. ‘There was a silence in the room for a few moment's space, which they all felt to be o} pressive until it was broken by the slight rustle of the countess’ dress. The earl stepped forward at last. “You are a police officer?” he said, and Ber- wick bowed. “T suppose you think,” he said, ‘that this coin formed a portion of the jewels stolen from my honse a few weeks since?” “It looks very much like it," retorted the of- ficer. ‘The description of the coins in the bracelet tallies exactly with this gold piece.” “And you say, my dear,” the earl asked Tom, “that the gentleman who was with Lady Pels- mere yesterday gave you this coin?” “Oh, yes, my lord,” answered tho girl. “Look there,” she added, pointing in terror to the countess, who, with staring eyes and blanched face, was standing, seemingly uncon- scious, in the center of the room. Lord Pels- mere rushed toward his wife and caught her in his arms at the moment when she was about to stagger and fall. His senile strength was in- sufficient and the tall, graceful figure slid down and fell in a heap upon the floor. leave us for a moment,” cried the earl, bout to fly tohis aid. Wait When the countess regained cousciousness of her surroundings she found her head resting upon asoft pillow, and herself stretched full length on the carpet. Lord Pelsmere was kneeling at her side. “Where am I?” she asked faintly, and wearily raired herself and looked about the room in a troubled wonderment. “You have fainted, my dear Helen,” replied the earl,” and I thought it best that ‘we should be left alone.” The countess looked at her aged husband for 4 moment in a piteous, mute appeal. Then she threw her arms about his neck, and drawing his face down to her, kissed him on the forehead. “am sorry, my dear,” she said, “so sorry. Ihave been wicked, very wicked. "I have been thoughtless, and but for this mercy of heaven, might not have known what [was doing until it was too late. Forgive me! You shall have no Teuson to chide me hereafte: She raised herseif and held out her band with a happy smile. “We are good friends again, we not, Pelsmere?” He looked at her proudly. “One of my golden angels has come back again, my dear,” he said, The others will fol- low. “Thank you, Helen, thank you!” <—- * . . . . ‘That same night Capt. Ferrers disappeared from London. He had been much known about ind the frequenters of the giddy whirl of ' gaities heard of his departure with re- Ramors tlew abont the clubs and the the said. “Are gret. captain's former haunts that the police were looking for him upon some charge or otber. But Lord Pelsmere, jealous of his wife's fair name, had used his great influence and the breath of scandal was but faint. Tom has left the Strand and no longer sells flowers. She has found a kind and beloved mistress in Lady Peismere. Sale Ges In the Eskimo lage at Chicago, Julian Ralph in the New York Sun. Whoever would imagine the face of an Eskimo belle without going to the painful ex- treme of looking at one need only picture a Chinaman’s visage which has been stepped on and flattened by an elephant's foot. The Eskimo face does not stop at being flat—it is dished in the middle. Those polar belles have | Diack horsehair on their heads, cafe-an-lait complexions and very soft, fine skins. ‘Their tone of voice is precisely like that of the Edi- son talking dolls. Perhaps the voice which is peculiar to Punch and Judy shows is even more hike that of the Eskimo women. Filing a saw produces duleet stra beside It nts to get into the Eskimo ut it is worth $25 to get out again I. The best way to see the village is to approach it from the windward side with a clothespin on one's nose. To enter one of the bark-walled huts is to make a New Yorker long for a breeze from Huuter’s Point. ‘These the tullaby of such a woman to her child costs huts are used to store up years of the smell of | At a dis- smoked herring fried in rank fat. tance the Eskimo men look well. paddling their skin dugouts on the canal beside the vil. | lage. The women are more arrant beggars than the Arabs. They only speak to ask for money. They pluck the slee of visitors, say- ing, “Give me.” “give me,” or “you got fi cents, yes?” ‘The children who ean but just walk twine around the legs of the men who venture near them, and run their smoky little hands in the right hand trousers pocket, which they have observed to be the general deposi- tory for small change. The short, chunky, wooden-looking men wheedie silver out of the populace by playing & Samo requiring considerable skill ‘This consists in lifting a donated nickel or dime out of the ground by the crack of a whip. The whips these chaps use are like an ordinary buli goad, with a yumber of leather lashes added to the total length of 24 fect. Ther shoot these long lashes: : snakes, straight at a coin set edge up in the dirt, and as each tip reaches the spot it curls with asnap like a pistol shot, and, likely us not, lifts the coin high in air. soever gets it in that way. The disappointment which follows the pay- ment of a quarter to see these block-like but highly scented Eskimos illustrates the great ruling principle at this show, which is that the best that is to be seen is what is seen free of extra cost, If the Eskimos, the Irish village, the animal show, the Tur sort of things are worth 25 and 50 cents each toa visitor, 1t is certain that the great exposi- tion, common to all for one admission fee, should be rated ata thousand dollars’ worth of sightsecing. The wonders of every avenue of industry and the treasures of every form of art from all over the world are all to be seen for a half dollar paid at the outside gates. The things that cost extra are very closely like the sideshows of the circuses and the dime mnseum exhibits of the Bowery. They are genuine and those in the Bowery are faked, that's the main difference. ing to know where I'd got it, and | along the ground like | Tt goes to who- | ish town and those | TYPES AT THE FAIR. THE EXHIBITOR WHO THOUGHT HIMSELF KIXG— UBIQUITOUS GUARDS—LOVERS ON AX OUTING— THE WOMAN WHO LEARNS—WORKINGMEN. IN CROWDS—LAST OF ALL, THE MAN FROM WAMH- INGTON. ‘Special correspondence of The Evening Star. Curcaco, May 22, 1893, Any one who gocs to the world’s fair will see & great many grand buildings and curious ex- hibits, but it is doubtful whether anything is more interesting than the exhibition of human- ity that comes through the gates in the morn- ing and remains scattered about the buildings and grounds until it 1s time to go home in the evening. An expert can usually tell what the people are there for, but may often make mis- takes, because some poor people dress up with all their best finery for the occasion and some rich people put on their shabbiest belongings. Goop CLOTHES NOT NECESSARY. There is no particular object in putting on Sunday attire, as the grounds are dusty when the sun shines and muddy when it rains, and inside of the buildings there is the dirt and litter from hundreds of workmen. ‘There is, moreover, a constant danger from fresh paint, which is being applied frecly in nearly all the buildings. AS a cosmopolitan visitor pithily expressed it the other day: “Yon cau get dirty in a dozen languages in two hours.” It must be remembered that the litter and dust come from unpacking boxes that Lave come from every quarter of the earth. But while Jackson Park is not clean, it must be admitted that it is mach cleaner than the city of Chicago itself. the resident of Washington the dirt is decidedly disagreeable at first. but after a while he gets used to it, and abandons the attempt to wear the immaculate collars and cuffs which he was accustomed to at home. ‘THE EXHUITOR TYPE. The first type of humanity that attracts notice at the fair, and especially early in the morning, is the exhibitor. There are various ways of distinguishing him, but you can gen- erally tell him from the’ fact ‘that he is not looking about him in admiration and wonder, but is hurrying to some given point. To him the fair is athing of business and not of pleasure. It means a great deal of worry to him and probably a good deal of fighting for his | rights. If you follow an exhibitor into his sec- | tion you will see how he works, He has to form a reasonable degree of manual i whether he is accustomed to it or not, and he must direct the movements of workmen, vai ing in number from one to one hundred, cording to the size and nature of "his display. It is not strange, therefore, that ‘one way of telling an exhibitor from an ordinary person is by the weighty look of importance he wears. Some of them actlike monarchs of the earth, and especially when they first arrive they ‘actually seem to think they are. But this idea soon wears off, for what would be the use of being a king along th 10,000 other sovereigns? ‘There are fally 10,000 exhibitors at Jackson Park, and they have, as a consequence, become rather com- mon. All of these exhibitors are well situated for identifsing themselves, as cach and every one carries in his pocket the pass which enabil him to enter the gates, and this pase contains « photograph of the person carrying it nnd his name underneath it. There is no chance for imposition here unices two men #0 closely re- semble each other that they can exchange passes. TRE UBIQU:TOUS GvARD. The most ubiquitous human being in the park is the Columbian guard, a creation of the man- agement of the fair that has excited agreat deal of wonder among the people of Chicago. He is dressed in a suit of blue, with stripes down the sides of his trousers. On his breast is an ar- rangement of cords and brass, not unlike that worn byan officer of the army, except that th guard's cords are of plain biack, He has short sword, about eighteen inches in length, hanging by his side and he wears white thread gloves, mis DUTIES. The guard's duties are numerous. He must answer questions and direct people about the grounds; he must guard the property of the exposition and also of the visitor In case of fire he turns himself into a fireman, and he has power to arrest people like « policeman. ‘There you bave the jumbian guard as a body: but as individuals they cover a wide range of life, some being old soldier, others old policemen, and others men who would never have been accepted either as soldiers or policemen. The efficiency of the guard is a matter on which opinions differ, but taken asa body of men they are highly ‘efii- cient. It would be strange if there were not some among them who are neither useful nor ornamental. Occasionally they arrest the wrong man, and, in point of fact, the chief of the largest building in the grounds was carried to the guard house a few evenings ago because he persisted in entering his own building: but asa general rule they are responsible beings, and can be depended on to give you any infor- mation they possess, and to enforce all rales without fear or favor. THE vinITORS. ‘The next persons the visitor sees are those who, like himself, are also visitors. Some of them carry lunch baskets or boxes, and there is no rule forbidding it, while others have pocket books that are capable of paying the tariffs of the most exorbitant cafes in the United States, The man from the country can usually be picked out by the stiff wooden sandy beard he is 80 fond of. He is almost invariably accompanied by his wife and ch:ldren, and he frequently has the bal the party also. The influence of the open air upon the last named is apt to be sufficient to i nd it is transported imp and quiet for the greater portion of the day. The countryman has no particular object in view, but when he finally comes to the agri- cultural building he is naturally filled with won- der and delight. Still he is silent, and what he thinks about it all is reserved until he gets back home and he and his neighbor meet in the barn yard and exchange notes. TRE FELLOW AND HIS GIRL. Following the countryman you may sce the “fellow and his girl.” By an evolution of the century it has come about that the “fellow” at the world’s fair invariably grasps the elbow of his “girl” and gently assists her locomotion in that way. There isa great deal to be said in favor of the fashion, tor it enables the couple to keep close together, and the “fellow” m: lean over his “girl” and whisper anything he chooses into her ear without danger of being overheard. This couple moves rather quickly through the buildings and lingers at the seats. It can not be said that the two have come for educational purposes, but purely for pleasure. Before the day has got very far advanced they find themselves in the Midway Plaisance, and as long as the “fellow’s” money holds out he and the “girl” will have a hugely pleasant time. FOR EDUCATIONAL PURPOSES 0: Tho next person you are apt to see is the one who is at the fair simply and solely for educa- tional purposes and who really does not care for any pleasure, purely as pleasure, that there |may be in it. Such one has her (it isgen- erally a woman) neck outstretched and carries a guide book in her hand. She goes close to the exhibits, reads ailthe cards and asks hundreds tion of the fair would fill eight octavo volumes. It ix pleasant to nee this | visitor, ‘She becomes so mterested that she | forgets to get tired, and she receives more ben- ent from a week at the exposition than most people get from a trip to Europe. Not infre- quently these «tudious visitors travel in squads or pairs, but they are to be met with alone, too. Every day there are more of them, and in the course of a few weeks they will constitute a con- siderable proportion of the visitors. THE TRAVELED VISITOR. It would never do to leave out, as a type, the fortunate visitors who have been everywhere else, and who come here to see what the fair really is like. They can be told at a once by their easy air of interest. They care more for | the exterior of the buildings than they do for the interior, and the geueral pi que ef- fect in what fleases them most, They are very apt to use the wheel chairs and they can be distinguished by the fact that they do not ask many questions. These people, too, are in- | creasing in numbers every day, and there will | bardiy ‘be a rich man or woman in America who will not visit Chicago this summer. THE WORKINGMAN. There is yet another type almost as ubiqui- tous as the Columbian guard, and it is the Chi- | cago workingman. He toils and epins, and his raiment is not that of King Solomon in all his glory, nor is he disposed to act any other part | than that of an independent American. Ie not in the grounds for pleasure, but for pro’ and he does got such wa |envy him. When the he | go home it is hurd to escape him, for he fills up | the cars and the streets. He is disposed to in- sist upon his rights here, but there is no dis- | position to question them. I" ‘There is one tyne that will become more —2a numerous after awhile.and it is the best type of all, Itas the man from Washington,who wants to see what Chicago has done with the fair that ought to have been held in yet the W, man THE ARIZONA The Editor's Advice Concerning Banking and the Drama. From the New York Sun. A Woxp oF Cavriox.—We understand that Parties are here from the cast with a view of opening a bank with a capital of €25,000, This is good news, but we feel it our duty to give these strangers « word of caution. Our bank- dorvers he would naturally take it aseelur om his integrity and begin shooting. In the esst ‘they allow three days’ grace on bank paper. Out here they always tllow seven, and if the man carries two guns they spin it out to nine or ten and throw ina couple of Sundays. De tors in, the east fake chances of the prose jent cing a bank or the cashier with the boodle. Weare not Dat tat eae About once a week our people call sce how the machine is ranning, and pect all inquiries to be satisfactorily A bank official who leaves this town never any baggage with him and is always at Pains to explain why he goes and when ets to return. Another bank ere, but it must be run on Should abank open here with « atter n year or two and pay depositors ou the dollar, it were better for the officials 80 off and die now and eave trouble. Dramaric.—Two weeks ago, when the ad Vanee agent of the Standard ‘Theatrical Com=- pany bilied this town for “Hamlet,” we tried togive him some pointers. We thought we knew the le of this locality better than be did, but he was a young man with head and scorned our advice. There are tain things our theater-going public in the play of “Hamlet,” and they given or there will bea row, At some of the play at least one cowboy across the stage on his cavuse to & realistic appearance. There mast one bar room scene and the bottles must be real. In each act there and dance to liven up things. fer a female dancer in tights, bi colored man if he can clog well. boxing match 4 “4 takes well, formance can be substituted xers are not feeling well. We man all these things, but be wen company was greeted by a full evening. The audience waited the cowboy, the bar room and the dance, but they did not show up. A waited on the manager to ask what was ‘and he said they were ving “‘Hamiet’ was pinyed in New ¥: Boston, Chicago and elsewhere, ard he refused to put in any im- vrovements for our benefit. This, of brought «climax. For a few minutes it as if the boys would proceed to extremes, but wiser counsels prevailed, and they were finally satisfied with a retarn of the admission, company had to leave part of ite to secure the hotel bill and at least t actors de on foot. Every town idioms. t bits New York won't here at all, and what tickles Chicago Louis makes us sad and serious. We “Hamlet” as we want it, We don't body else's “Hamlet.” The sooner thoroughly understood by theatrical nies heading this way the better concerned. ———-+-e-_____ ‘The Women of Arctic Alaska. Berbert L. Aldrich in June Godey’s. ‘The reader can scarcely conceive of hardships in life than the people who ‘the arctic coast of Alaska endure. Life is them 4 serious struggle. Their faces tell Women twenty years of age show have borne exposure and hardships, already made them prematurely farther south of the arctic circle jess they have to endure, as the maintain existence is less of a strain and the cold is not so deadly in ite ‘The first Alaskan Eskimo woman at Port Clarence, « fine natural harbor one hundred miles south of Bering straits. So far as cleanliness was concerned, she was model of ber kind, and outside of ber and family they were almost the only encountered rye appreciated the cleanliness. I her to permit @ photograph of her and her f, 5 shook her bead, and, looking at clothing, said “smoky,” then, added, *‘na-na-ho,” meaning some Although her face and hands were tively clean, she was dressed in well somewhat tattered clothing, made of ‘on parte of which the hair was broken off. making her appear somewhat sbabby; “na-na-ho,” frequently means the day, ns it did in this case, sbe, her and dangbter came to E § riieee i i fi 3 i 5 g H Hf i | . i § FE He ii HH Hy a ai? if hi i bs ae, i 4 é { i for H § Hd t } i fi if ther insisted upon facing away from the and closing their eyes tight 60 as not to see jone, darling.” W.—"Then I am determined I will have nome from you, either.” H.—“You have secrets, then?” W.— “Only one, and Iam resolved to makee clean breast of it.” HL. (hoarsely)—“Go on.” W.—“For several days I have bad a secret—@ crores longing for s new pring eats with hat € mat L Mrs. Henley—““William, mother's picture hae been standing bere unframed ever since mas, Now, you must get a frame for it today. Auctioneer—“Now, gents, what am T bid for this novelty, “The Caged Lion?’ ‘The frame forms the cage. The picture is damaged, but the frame is in good condition. Fifty cents, hear? Sold to the gentleman for fifty Mr. Henley—“There you are, frame Site the picture as if it had been it. aud 1 got it ata barcaia. tea” ry. The made for