Evening Star Newspaper, September 9, 1893, Page 11

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. ©. SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 9. 1898—SIXTEEN PAGES. THE PARKS OF PARIS. How the Stay-at-Homes Enjoy Open Air Life in Summer, THE CHILDREN’S PARADISE. Some Famous Parisian Gardens and the Pleasures They Afford. IN THE BOIS DU BOULOGNE. August 5, 1893. © BE OBLIGED TO remain in Paris in mid-August ts to Le dans la puree—in the soup. The phrase is colloquial French. Tne thousands of slightly weary-look- ing ladies and gen- tlemer who line the avenue of the Champs Elysees for a full half mile, morning, afternoon, and early evening, regard each other with scant respect and little interest. They sit beneath the trees on iron chairs that rent for four cents each, taking the air and watching listlexsly @ thousand rusty little open cabs at forty cents an hour usurp the brilliant drive of Tout-Parts, whose equipages in fall and | spring are one of the greatest sights of the | capital These left-vehind ones know each | other. There Is no chancs fur pretense. | Mere presence denotes the puree. They ac- | cept the fact, but do not wilt teneath it | They are cast down, but only when they Feflect. They are Parisians. and the Pur-| \atan’s first instinct Is to make the best Ch : | i | On the Champs Elysee. things. The best of things in Paris, even in the dog days, are not bad. One of the most pleasing characteristi: of life in Paris has to do with the open Parisians from children wp ‘nake a contin- ual use of parks and open squeres. They | do not only ride in the they walk in | them. They do not only walk in them.they sit in them. They do not unly sit in them, but sit and read. And, as If they wished to tura ail Paris into parks, they use the great, wide, shaded streets in very much the same way. Much of that appearance of life and gayety which Paris has Is due to the out-| door Hving of so many well~tressed Peo- | pk We in America have caught this ad- mirable tendency on our seaside board walks and hotel piazzas. But ft is in the cities it is needed more. Now, when the high mob of the rich and fasionable go away from Paris, these oiring Places, gay, beautiful and well-kept, fall under the exclusive jurisdiction of that very large class of well-to-do people who may be called second-class Parisians, prevented by racial prudence rather than actual lack of money from going to the seasnore and the mountains. They amuse :hemelves with what they find around them. Mothers come ehis the children play. Ladie: ve nu children come to look on while oth: le's chil- dren play. They are in the heart of Paris, yet the shade is like a forest. In some of these squares there are distra aS ex- clusively for chi horses and Punch and Judy in come there are croquet grounds and tennis courts. Others have ponds in which to sail boats. (thers have swans to feed. All are free and yet are free from tramps, because all are freely used by decent people. The grounds of the Champs Elysces on each side of the great avenue are esp @ resort for children. They are calle: Elysian fields and they are the true fields of nursemaids and their charges. Each one has his own affair. Little Georges can crack his whip, the sprawling baby sits with dignity and Er-| ehasseur than ris policemen are Champs is to his that public sees is what Here he + h is the re si 2 hundreds like himself flying hors2s of the him for the mature life e. freshments id get at home. The ps so the fs amateut Brofessicnal Of the large parks the follow! s is | are culled gardens: The Jardin des Plantes, which contains a managerie; the “Jeréen of the Luxembourg, in Latin Quarter, where a & Magnificent open space possesssd city in the world. The smaller would be impossible to mention. Who ever Rue Laf halt ts to that one on the Rue fayette, fray between the Rue Laffitte und the rail- way station of the north; who bas ever seen the one beside the Tenon Hospital, that ru: between the Rue de Japon and the itue de Chine? There are parks in Vaugirard and parks in Belleville, Just as there is the aris- tocratic Park Monceau. Of the parks generally visited by Amer | cans the Jardin des Plantes is certainly the most dilapidated. It lies in a quarter, in the southeast of Paris, je the Seine. Yet for all its dilapidation it is one of the most useful, giving to many a miserably situated family—not breathing space, for there {9 plenty of that in every part of Paris on the wide, bench-lined streets them- seives—but a feeling ef proprietorship, as if the Jardin was an annex to their salons. Here sprawl in the shade innumerable babies reveling in the dirt and gravel, babies at the breast who try to get down in the dirt, babtes in the dirt who cry to get back to the breast. In the evening, when the men of the fam- fly have had dinner, you will see them rest- ing with the others on the benches here. It 1s true that they have in Paris none of that popular beer garden life in the Ger- man style, and in the Jardin des Plantes there is only music twice a week and only in the afternoons. But the French would rather talk than listen ¢o music and rather save their pennies than spend them heavily on beer. Jn the evening, when the Jardin shuts up, the families walk along the em- bankments of the Seine and stroll home languidly along the streets. At least the place has given them a destination, an ob- ject for their walk. If the Jardin des Plantes ts dilapidated, the Garden of the Tulleries ts scarcely more magnificent, but its air is nevertheless aris- tocratic. It ts large, not too well shaded, the trees being stumpy and planted with Sreat regularity. It ts also a play ground— but for a better class of children. On its north runs the rue de Rivoli, that hunting sround of tourists; on the south there are the banks of the Seine. This garden is one of the greatest promenades of Paris; it has music three afternoons each week. ‘Two circular basins of water are given over to children for their toy sailboats. And there is an Allee des Orangers, adorned in fine weather, with two rows of orange trees, which date from the time of Francis I. (Year 1500!) Marble statues abound here, and there remain two semi-circular marble In the Evening. platforms, constructed in 1798 In accordance with the’ classical crazy ideas of Robe- spierre, for the accommodation of the old men who were to preside over the floral games of the month of Germinal! ‘The gem of all these gardens is the Pare Monceau, lying in a rich district between the Are’ de Triomphe and the handsome Boulevard Malesherbes. It lies, lost and solitary, enveloped in an atmosphere of repose, ‘an atmosphere of reserve, the true atmosphere of those who are its special sign at night, couples who sit murmuring upon the benches of its sidewalks, “One is well upon a bench at twenty years of age! That is the way the song goes and the way the Parc Monceau goes. ‘The Pare Monceau remains open all night, being a short cut for carriages and foot passengers. A nervous pale-green glow from many electric lights shining in the trees and reflected from the grass gives the main alleys a strange theatrical half daylight, and its shadows in secluded nooks are deadly black. In the daytime the Pare Monceau is full of ladies reading books, of decorous children attended by their aurses, of old gentlemen hobbling in the sun. These sit and judge the floral games of children dancing in a ring and singing—what? The Children’s Games. Carmagnole! It is hard to get away from the French revolution in the city of Paris. This very Parc Monceau has a curious connection with the last days preceding the revolution. It owes its name to a prop- erty bought as late as 1718 by Philippe @Orleans, father of Louls Philippe, who made of it one of the most fashionable resorts of that beau monde which was so goon to take its choice of hurrying penni- less abroad or bleeding on the scaffold. Balls, plays and fetes of the most magnifi- cent description were celebrated here. The revolution converted it into public property. At the restoration it again became the property of the house of Orleans. But in 1850 it was purchased by the city of Paris, which sold its edges for building purposes, Here it ts that the chil dancing, att e children, Dansons la Vive le son! Vive le sont Dansons la Carmagnole, ‘Vive le son du canon! ‘The bloodthirsty round of the sans-cu- lottes has become a children’s game; and the Pare Monceau 1s no longer the prop- erty of a prince. From ‘the Pare Monceau to the Are de ‘Triomphe is a shady walk along the aris- tocratic Avenue Hoche, as airy and shady as the park itself. Thence it is more than half park all along the Avenue of the Bois to the Bois de Boulogne itself. At the en- trance of this greatest of all Paris parks you have the cafe Chinois, where, night after night, in the open air, the thin and Father desultory strain of a Hungarian orchestra assist the patrons to down ‘the even hiner French beer, which cheapest drink. tein the Bols itself. because its distances are so far and because it is a little too much like la belle nature it is almost neces- sary, sooner or later, for mere relicf to patronize a cafe. The chief one is the Cas- cade. It is expensive (40 cents for a sherry cobbier), and its chief value for the ordi- nary man ts as a place of observation in the earlier summer, when the great world of Paris is driving and riding horseback. The Cascade is then the recognic+d stop- ping place, where dukes and orincesses put down mixed drinks. Is it not worth 4) cents to sit beside a duke? In this same Bots there are Americans who, in the winter time, pay willingly $4 an afternoon to skate with them upon the sacred pond. ‘This bri tion and the only value of which {s to boast the open air ‘Ife of Pari- sians and to recommend its fuller practice in American cities. Two points are to be particularly noted. In Paris well-to-do people constantly pa- tronize the city parks, gardens and open places. Their mere presence ¢rives out tramps and other undecorative customers, who in many American cities monopolize the city squares to thelr defile nt. Secondly, in all the Paris city parks and gardens the sale of beer and wine is per- mitted. This latter might be a cause of evil among people less temperate than the French. But it is worth reflecting on that the first characteristic mentionci—the free use of parks by highly respectable people— may have, even in France, a great deal to do with preserving good order where wine and beer are sold. STERLING HEILIG. —__ THE MASHER’S BAD LUCK. He Made a Bad Jump for a Bright- Eyed Country Violet. From the Detroit Free Press. “I never see a time card of the Michigan Central Railroad without wanting to kick myself all around a ten-acre lot,” said the man with the pock-marked face as we walt- ed in the depot at Buffalo: “Did the stock go down on you?” “Stock hadn't nothing to do with it. Fit- teen years ago I made Detroit my head- quarters while selling wagons and buggies for a house down in Ohio. I used to run out to Ann Arbor, Ypsilanti, Plymouth and other towns very frequently. I was a sin- gle man then, wore good clothes, and thought myself a successful masher. On ope of my trips I saw a stunning looking girl at a flag station a few miles west of Ann Arbor. I smiled at her from the win- dow, and T thought she returned it. Three days later I saw her again, and that time I was sure I made a m: Her father was a oa I believe, e helped run the station. I think It was a milk station, as I saw lots of cans about.” “Well?” “I decided to out from Detroit and complete the'mash. In fact, I sort o” fell in love with that country violet. Bright and early one morning I sailed down to the de- Pot, ensconsed myself in a goach, and away went in search of my c er. It had never occurred to me to see whether the train stopped there or not. It was an ex- press, and I found out from the conductor when only two miles away that it didn’t pine! ‘And s0 you had to go on?” “And so I didn't! You can judge for your- self what an ass I was when I tell you *hat T decided to jump from the train, ] figured that it would slack up a bit at the station and that I was smart enough to land right- end up. I went to the rear car, got down on the lower step, and just as'we passed fhe station 1 made my jump. “T don’t think the speed slackened a bit, in fact, I have always believed the engineer put on about ten miles an hour extra. I knew the groutd was level, but I forgot about the thivtles and hazel bushes, I thonght. possibly 1 might fall down, but the idea of a calamity never entered my blooming head.” “Then there was a calamit; “I should gurgle. In fact have been surglin ¥ ‘ao gurgle. T for fifteen long years, nd I shall cease to gurgle only when the spark of life has been teetotally extinguish- When I struck the ground I started to run. All of a sudden I went head over heels over the ditch and into the bushes and thi: tles. ‘I dimly realized thatI was turn- ing handsprings and cart wheels and somersaults by the dozen, but I was helpless in the matter. All at once the lights went out, the curtain came down, and it was ten’ hours before I knew anything again. A farmer had picked me up and carried me home. The bushes had licked all my clothes of, and the thisth and bushes had cut my face as you see. ‘Why, haven’t you had the small-pox?" .“‘Never! Got these marks then and trere. T've forgotten how many million thistle- stings the doctors extracted, but they rever got ‘em all. My whole body suffered the Same way. Aside from this, I got a broken was laid up for nearly four “And the girl—the country violet?” ‘That's the cap-sheaf, stranger. While 1 Was cart-wheeling through those bushes she Was being married to a strapping ‘young farmer at her father's house. Lordy! But what a fool a man can make of himself in {his old state of Michigan when he puts on STEAMBOATING ON THE OHIO. 1¢ Was at the Height of Its Prosperity Half a Century Ago. From the Pittsburg Post. It was from 1840 to 1855 that steamboating was at its height. Fortunes were made in those days by men who owned and ran boats. There were lots of steamers on the river then. The embryo industries of that Period depended on the river entirely, for railroads had only been proposed, not built. About one hundred steamboats were built at Pittsburg annually to run on the Ohic and Mississippi rivers. This city was noted for the trim crafts it placed on the water, as some of the biggest and best running steamers were built at the headwaters of the Ohio, The boats of the early steamboating days were all side-wheelers. 1t was not. until late that the advent ot the stern-whecl boats occurred and when it did they were not looked upon with favor by the denizens of the side-wheel crafts. The river men Tegarded them as an inferior kind of boat on whose decks it was beneath the dignity of @ first-class steamboat man to tread. The packets were of good size and stoutly built. ‘They were not supplied with swine, ing stages and steam capstans, and their engines were of sure but not so graceful movement as engines now, and ‘electric lights for steamboats were not even dream- ed of. But they served their purpose in making big money for their owners. ‘There was but one organized packet com- pany running boats down the river from Pittsburg. It’ was the old Pittsburg ‘aud Cincinnati packet line, and it owned about twenty-five steamboats, some of which ieft the Pittsburg wharf dally. Among them Were the Buckeye State, the Hibernia, Pittsburg, Crystal Palace and Pennsylva: nia. These boats were all stoutly built and especially adapted for fast running. ‘The laws relating to racing were not sc stringent then as now, and exciting con- tests of speed on the river occurred daily. One of the swiftest of the packets was the Pennsylvania. She was the largest of the Cincinnati boats and made some splendid records on the Ohio. She was v feet long and 31 feet beam. Another fast steamer was the Allegheny. She wat not so large as the Peunsyivania, but was almost as speedy. Some of these old Cin- cinnati packet line boats were sunk, a few — and the others wore out in the river service. Besides the Ci matt C mpany’s pack- ets there were several steamers, most of them owned by Pittsburgers, which ran down the river and which had no regular trades, but made trips whenever and Wherever there was occasion for. thelt services. They were chiefly to St. Louls and New Orleans, the trip to the last named point being completed in about twenty days. There were a few boats ran. ning up the Monongahela and Allegheny rivers. Brownsville was as far up as the slackwater improvements extended on. the Monongahela and Franklin was the head of navigation on the Allegheny. ‘The men running on the early steam- boats were well pald for their work. being paid usually a stated sum per trip. ‘They were not very thrifty as a_ciass, and bul few of them saved much from their fre. quently large earnings. Gambling formed a part of the excitement of the river man't life, and a pilot or captain's first night after landing in New Orleans was usually spent in the magnificent gambling halls for which the crescent city was famous at that time. Faro and poker had a pecullar fas- cination for the steamboat man, and he gratified it to its fullest Imits, whereon now stand some of the most mag nificent residences of Paris, MEwrar. exhaustion and brain fatigue Promptly cured by Bromo-Seltzer. WILL TARIFF CHANGE? Senator Allison Says There Will Be No Material Modification, THE FINANCIAL STRINGENCY. Its Causes and the Outlook for the Future. REPEAL OF THE SILVER LAW. ——-— (Copyright by Geo. Grantham Bain.) fal versation with Sena- tor Allison recently on the subject of the recent financial stringency and the Possibilities of tariff revision. Mr. Allison is @ pleasant man to talk to, whether he is speaking for pub- lication or engaged in a private conver- sation. The clear- ness of his mind and his excellent com- mand of language make him one of the most fluent and his long and ex- perience in public life one of the most at- tractive speakers in the Senate. He is 9s quick, as easy and as interesting in con- versation as he is in speaking, elther on the fgor of the Senate or from the pollti- cal platform. For many years the chair- man of the committee on appropriations and a member of the committee on finance of the Senate, the stepfather of the “Bland- Allison law,” and recently a member for the United States of the international mone- tary conference at Brussels, Mr. Allison's views on the present situation are as im- portant as they are interesting. Mr. Allison expressed a belief that there would be no radical revision of the tariff at this session on the linea suggested in the Platform of 1892, “of tariff for revenue only.” Even though the ways and means committee reports @ radical change in the existing schedule, it must still be subjected to the crucible of the committee of the whole House, where no “aye and no” record is made, the Senator said, and unless the caucus should force a party vote for a Measure prepared by the committee, it might be taken for granted that detail changes would be made in the House. But the bill, after passing the House, must be considered first by the finance committee ind then considered in the Senate, where there is no restraint upon debate or upon the power of amendment and where the &reat industries would be fully heard as reapects their ability to compete with like industries in other countries upon a fair scale of wages to their workmen, “Tt is not likely,” said the Senator, “that our internal revenue taxes will be greatly increased. We might add somewaat to the spirit and tobacco tax, but there is not lke- ly to be any great addition,so that now, as heretofore, the increase of revenue will be chiefly from tariff duties in some form, either by greatly reducing duties on cu petitive manufactures or by levying dutt Upon sugar and the like, row on the free Ust. An income tax is “trongly supported in some quarters and may be resorted to, but this is not very probable. Inasmuch as the committee of ihe House has en- tered upon the work it is useless to specu- late as to detail ison if he Delteved that T asked Mr. the threatened change in the tariff laws had any part in destroying public conf- dence and bringing about the present con- dition of affairs in manufacturing circles and in the money world, as so often stated in the House and Senate debate on the sil- ver purchase repeal. “I have no doubt,” he sald, “that the pro- posed changes in ‘the tariff are one cause of our present distress. It is not eaay to trace the causes which have lel to the money and industrial panic. That the pro- posed tariff changes contribuced very grea ly to our troubles seema to me plain, Changes of our tariff without any charge of policy bring stagnation when modif- cation is proposed seriously or during or pending consideration of changes. This Occurred in 188, when the Mills tarlff and the Senate amendments were being con- sidered. The consideration of the tariff bill of 1890 greatly disarranged trade for the time being in certain classes of goods | to be affected by the rates proposed. After 1890 there was a fresh stim:lus given to all| then existing industrial pursuits, and new industries were projected and’ many of them started, encouraged Ly the act of 1890. Under this stimulus our situation in ‘1892 w: one of apparent unprecedented prosperity. Credits were creatly enlarged through the banks and other ways, these seeking credit and embarking in new en- terprises or enlarging existing ones feeling sure that the resulting iavestments would be profitable. ‘The Democratic Success. “Then came the election of November, 1892, and the success of the democrats on thelr platform declaring in substance that every vestige of protection should be wiped out. They not only elected their President on this issue, but they secured a large ma- jority in the House and a clear working majority in the Senate, thus securing com- plete control of the government. Although no one during the canvass of 1892 could pre- dict with certainty who would be elected Fresident, few anticipated that there would be a democratic majority in the Senate, whereby a complete revolution of public policies could be accomplished. When this | complete change was known and fully real- ized a sudden stoppage was had as respects all the development of our manufacturing industries; and those in existence arranged to produce only for immediate consumption, not knowing what would be their fate un- der the new policy proposed by the demo- crats. Thus the uncertainty of the situa- tion paralyzed our industries for the time being. “If President Cleveland had catled a ses- sion in March, so that the policy of the party could have been developed at an early day, this uncertainty, in itself a great menace, ‘would have ceased, and our peo- ple could have set their houses in order for the new conditions. But this was not done, and the stagnation of the winter and spring continued and will continue in an intens! fied form until the people know what harm or good is to come out of the democratic policies executed. In the meantime our im- portations will be confined to the demand for Immediate consumption, hoping for re- duction of duties, and our’ own manutac- turers will run on short time or not at all, not knowing whether the goods produced must be sold at a profit or a loss. “It ts impossible to confine this disturb- ance to what is called our protected in- dustries. When such disturbances come they soon permeate all trades and all sta- tions. So I cannot escape the conviction that another revision of the tariff so soon after the last, and with such radical pro- posals of change as have greatly disar- ranged trade and business and the uncer- tainty of the future as respects the condi- tions of production in our country, and as respects the employment of labor and the wages to be paid, is one of the potential factors in bringing about the present distress and unrest. Disturbances in other countries, such as the Baring failure and the Argentine bubble, the cause of it, drew from our country considerab! sums to make the necessary liquidations, the effect of which has not entirely disappeared. This would have been more serious to us but for the heavy exports of last year and the year previous. The troubles in Aus- tralia and disturbances in other countries affect us more or less because of our inti- mate trade relations with Europe. England especially always draws upon our resources in times of stringency, as we are rich and strong enough to respond without being greatly disturbed.” The Effect of Repeal, “Do you think the repeal of the purchase clause of the Sherman act will improve mat- ters?” I asked. “In so far as that act has appeared to the general public as one affecting the money standard,” said the Senator, “its repeal will have a beneficial effect. But this repeal will not restore former conditions, leaving out of the account wholly the disturbances in- cident to changes in the tariff. Because of the general prosperity in our country, there was built up a system of credit through bank deposits and the discount of those de- post for business and speculative pur- Poses which was dangerous in itself should disturbing causes appear. ‘These causes appearing, to arrest their consequences, these banks, whether savings banks, private banks or national banks, made discounts tar beyond the point of safety in times of adversity, present or prospective, and the expansion of credits received a rude and sudden shock, There has been a double withdrawal of money from the channels of circulation, the banks for self protection, to save themselves from suspension, and the depositors for hoarding. Thus there was a rapid contraction of the circulating money of the country and a sudden withdrawal of Gisaits for want of ability in the banks to discount paper, so that enterprises in con- templation or in progress were suddenly checked, business was deranged and public and private improvements were stopped and thereby many laborers were thrown out of employment. This confidence lost is not Mkely to be suddenly restored and we will have a period of liquidation extending over @ period of months at least. Good Prospects. “But it must be remembered also that with the exception of speculation in real estate in our cities and dealings in fancy securities this lquidation is not likely to bring any great number of failures. Few banks have failed relatively under the heavy strain; and the manufacturers and business men of the country have as a rule shown great strength and our manufacturers will only cease to produce, and for the time their capital will be unemployed. Our crops are exceptionally ; and though prices are low, they will find a market. So that the disasters of former periods of panic and distress are not lkely to be repeated, and if the uncertain- tes of the future are dispelled by prompt action respecting our financial policies, we may expect to recover from our present sit- uation within a reasonable time unless some of the threatened policies are adopted.’ un, . Remodeling the Tarif. ‘Do you expect that the democratic ma- jority in the two houses will remodel the tariff on the lines laid down in the demo- cratic platform of last year?’ “I do not,” said Mr. Allison, “It ts likely that a radical bill will be reported to the House. It will probably undergo many changes there. When it reaches the Senate it 1s not probable that a majority can be secured for radical changes. Such changes will probably be made as will cripple some of our many industries, but that the prom- ises of the platform will be carried out I do not believe. Now that the work has been inaugurated, it is important that the country should know as early as pract!- cable, consistent with fair consideration im (both houses, what the outcome is to “The people of the west are suffering less from the panic than the people of the east, they not?” @ rule, they are. There are excep- tions. I have no doubt there is much dit tress in the mining states because of th recent great depreciation of silver and th shutting down of the mines because of the depreciation. There is likely to be distress in Chicago, growing out of the conditions created by the world’s fair. Elsewhere in the west, I think, the people are well pre- pared for the stringency. The farmers have crops and have been gradually liquidating their debts for the past few years. They will be able to get on very well until the conditions are more favor- able.” Returning to the silver question I asked Mr. Allison what should be done with silver after the repeal of the purchase clause of the Sherman act. In reply, the Senator said: “There can be no permanent solution fully restoring silver as a money metal, ex- cept through {international agreement or concurrent favorable legislation of a suffi- clent number of the commercial states, with fre mintage in all these states, suffi- cient in number to absorb all the silver pro- duced as well as the present accumulation. I have entertained this view since 1878, when the United States declared itself for this policy. Until this time comes we must coin on government account such sums as we can maintain at par in gold.’ I asked the Senator if he believed this at- tainable. aie “7 Delleve tt attatnable at some time.” he said, “perhaps not in the very ni . But’ the necessity for this is so pressing that I have hope that with proper effort ‘on the part of those who favor this policy it may be accomplished within a reasonable time. England is the chief obstacle, but public sentiment there is changing rapidly. Her present effort to introduce a gold standard into India without a ‘gold circula- | tion will probably fail and her interests with her colonies and dependencies and her extensive trade with silver-using nations will break down the conservatism of her present rulers as soon as the Irish question is out of the way. But with or without England opening her mints to silver, her Power will soon be exerted for an agree- ment which may not provide for free mint- age, but will provide such arrangements for silver as will lead to free mintage in the near future. At the Brussels confer- ence the deepest interest was taken in this subject by all the nations represented. That conference will again convene and I have no doubt many plans will be presented and from them all some practicable scheme will be evolved looking to the absorption of all the silver produced, elther by use in the arts or for purposes of money. When this is done the road to free mintage is easy. “I do not think our government, even now or in the past, has exercised its power sufficiently for silver. The whole power of the government should be used to this end If there 1a any policy about which our peo- ple are agreed, it 1s the policy of using sil: ver in and through international arrange- ment, Yet the President, in his recent mes- sage, makes no mention of tt. I hope, how- ever, the Secretary of State is dealing with it, preparatory to the next meeting of the Brussels conference in November. I asked Mr. Allison if he still believed that internal revenue taxes must be in- creased. “I believe,” he said, “that under ordinary conditions the present tariff and the pres- ent internal revenue laws would produce a Tevenue sufficient for our needs. But with hard times imports will be less, I suppose; and we will probably have to meet a de- ficit. How to meet it is something that the democratic party must determine. The rem- edy is in their hands. a Reasons for Doubt. From the Detroit Free Press. A Detroit beau, not over brilliant, but a good fellow, who is at present at the eea- side, recently took his first yachting trip, and’a couple of young women, who were good sailors, were of the party.’ These girls were talking about the voung fellow during an interval to themselves. “TI think,” said one, “there's a great deal more in him than appears on the surface.” “I doubt it,” questioned the other; been dreadfully seasick for an hour.’ - Breaking It Gently. From the Chicago Tuter-Ocean, “Brown's wife eloped while he was away.” “How ald they break the news to, him."* “Told him his best dog was dead.” ‘How could that help him?" ‘Well, you see, when he learned the truth it w @ real comfort.” — —0e0¢ —__ A Remarkably Intelligent Dog. From Lite. | practiced by Miss |@ richer man appearing, she cally, without | on a heartless coquette like that. I swore in | India that I woula seek her out and upbraid | besides—what does it matter?" A HASTY JUDGMENT. WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY MRS. HUNGERFORD, Author of ‘"Molly Bawn,” *‘Ledy Branksmere,” &o. ——— “After all, Digby, you are more forgiv- ing than I thought you,” says Major Carl- ton, coming up to where Digby Vere is standing, beside a heavy velvet pertiere that hides a recess beyond. A waltz has Just begun, and Vere has the expression of one who is looking among the dancers for some one particular person. “How so?" asks he, smiling. He is a specially good-looking young man of about twenty-nine, and the smart Lancer uniform he is wearing seems to sult him. “Why, I've just heard from Waring that you have been Miss Gascoigne's devoted slave for the past three weeks.” “Slave—well, as for that—I confess, however, that I—like her.” “*Twill serve,” says Carlton, laughing. “And so you have forgotten the past, then You have condoned her sin, and all those dark threats of vengeance you ured to breathe in India are so much—vapor! I thought you were never golng to forgive her scandalous treatment of your cousin— Sir Charles.” “What do you mean?” exclaims Vere, wheeling round to look at him more in- tently. “Who are you talking about? The woman who wrecked Charles Vere's life was called Florence Grant!” “And is now called Florence Gascoigne.” Vere bursts out laughing, there is terrible relief in the laughter. “My dear fellow, you have got into a muddle of some sort. Miss Gascoigne 1s Miss Gaseoigne, she is not married.” “I know she isn't. But she has ehanged her name for all that. Only a year ago she was stil! Florence Grant, but a distant re- lation died, leaving her all her money on consideration that she changed her name to Gascoigne. See?” there 18 @ dead silence for a full minute; en— “There must be man: e8,"" 8a; Vers, ina iow tone Hl yee search can n's as loa im to opinion. Carlton is shocked at tongue out if I had only stammering, “I had no idea you were so hard hit—and, besides, lots of girls do that sort of thing, you know—fing @ fellow over, and—* At this moment there is a slight rustle behind the velvet curtain, as though some one has entered the Uttle room behind and seated him or herself upon a lounge. Both men, however, are too agitated to notice it. “But not with the cold brutality that was e,” says Vere, in a stern, hard tone. “Miss Grant, rather! If what you say ts true, no wonder she was glad of the ehance of putting that name behind her. It is useless any one’s defend- ing her, Carlton, because I had the whole story from his own lps a month before he died. She deliberately led him on until he was half mad in love for her, and then, @ kindly word, flung him over. She broke his heart. He said s0."" ‘There is another sound behiad the curtain now, as though @ fan has fallen with a Uttle crash to the floor. {By Jovet” says Carlton, who is now Wishing himself well out cf it, ‘he didn’t look like a fellow whose heart would be easily broken; he seemed to get a goot deal of good out of that litte flirtation with the colonel’s wife up in the Hills. 1.” aw! wardly, “I shouldn't think vo much about it if I were you, Digby. If you fancy her as much as you say I'd just put that old story in my pocket and go in and win, if ske would have m “Never!” says Vere, suppressed indeed, but perhaps the more terrible for that. '“I—I_to cast a thought her with her conduct to Charles; try to }ring a passing pang from her cold heart; but now, Carlton, I confess that is beyond me. She was dear to me—I never knew how dear until this moment, when I—know I shall never willingly look’ upon her face again. It is all over, that dread dream! Her face may be like heaven, but her soul —her soul must be like heil! Though it cost me all the happiness of my life I shall cast her out of my heart.” “You will give ber an opportunity to ex- plain it. Since it has gone thus far with you—for your own sake. dear boy_do give her a chance of say! w it was.” ‘No. A woman like that! Do you think she has not words at her command where- with to twist and turn her phrases, and show herself the injured innocent? fuse to listen to her exculpation. I refuse to listen to one word that she could say. There, let us forget all this,” turning ghastly face to Carlton, but conjuring up a smile all ‘the same. “What about these races; you are riding?” “No, but I hear you have the choice of two mounts. I'm glad you are going to have nothing to do with Younge's Fire- water—a dangerous brute. Waring is mad for you to ride his mare, and he says you have almost promised.” “Tell Waring, {f you see him again to- night, that I have changed my mind, how- ever." I shall ride Firewater for Younge.” “Oh, I say, Vere, I wouldn't if I were you. ‘A beast like that, that has killed his man already. I—" hall ride him,” says Vere, impatiently, “He'll win if can only manage him. And “It would matter a lot to the regiment if anything happened to you, old boy,” says the major, almost affectionately. “There's Waring over there. I'll go and talk to him. He may persuade you.” Carlton is hardly gone when the velvet portierre behind Vere is swept aside by an imperious hand, and a girl, tall, graceful, beautiful, with flashing eyes, and a face as white as death, confronts Vere. “Come in here,” commands she, beckon- ing him with a little royal gesture of her hand. He fol her. She drops the curtain. And in this small, dainty, perfumed corner of the house they are virtually alone. “So!” says she, In a voice low and soft, yet trembling with passion, “you bad de- cided on giving me no chance of explaining myself. You were bent on refusing to listen to my exculpation! You were prepared to treat me as the dust beneath your feet— you—" vehemently, “you—who only last night thought me worthy to be your wife.” Ah!" sa: st night ‘But you shall hear me,” erles she, her beautiful eyes on fire, her slight figure waying, as if her anger is consuming her. I will not be treated thus by you. You shall stand there,” with a tragic gesture of her hand, “there—before me—until you hear the truth. It is not a vindication you shall hear—I do not care to justify myself in your sight—a man who would condemn @ woman unheard. It is the truth of your cousin's story that I shall lay bare to you, and then, when,” she draws back her hand and lays it on her breast, as though to still its throbbings, “when you have learned that my soul is ‘not like hell—when you have seen me as I am, the injured, not the injurer—then-—" she pauses, a great light flashes over her face, “fhen'I shall refuse to listen to you She takes a step forward. “Your cousin, Sir Charles Vere, asked me to marry him ‘two years ago. I wns very young then—a mere child. I’ aid not Iike him, but they—my people—persuaded me to accept him. I was portionless, and a title always counts. As T sald, I was a child: we were engaged. He came often zo see in the beginning of our eneagement. often as is usual, but toward the close of it he came nearly every day, sometines twice a day. I wondered at this, because his manner was in nowise different to me —it was kind—but I thought it was a little less lovelike than before. Still he came every day, and sometimes twice and three times a day. Several times it ocearred to | me as odd that he called at the honse when he must have known I was driving in the park with my married sister. I~" sh pauses, and a quick breath parts her lip “have another sister, a little girl, and she t | that time had a governess, a young lady young as myself. She was very pretty far, far prettier that I was! One day, com- ing back much earlier from my drive with | Gertrude than was usual with me, I went straight to the school room to see Mimi, my | Uttle sister. I did not find her there; but I found your cousin—Sir Charles, and ‘Miss | No, I shall not mention her name. There | w a ‘een half across one corner of the room, and they sat hidden behind !t. Only half hidden. They had not been very care- ful, you see, as they thought I was quite sure not to return till 6 o'clock. They did not see me. He was sitting beside her, with his arm around her—and her head was— Oh!" with quick disgust, “I need not go In- to that. “I said nothing. I went away. He was dining with us that evening, but T said T had a bad headache, and did not come down. “The next dav my sister’s governess was gone. They made many inauiries about her. | but T said nothing. Sir Charles came and went as _usuaji. but my headache still clung to me. I would not see him. At last I tosk courage-I went down. He was in the he, as if stung to the quick, | rears until they | lutely unremunerative; that Russia ll 888ees—eSeee ESS thing about not know I refusing not. He,” she pauses, her hands clenched together, “he, ith ees fat Oo BY? dled, declaring 1 re that?” “Yes—and—" he hesitates, terrible as all the for now than anything else on earth. —aynnt meeer “He you had given him to marry “Must I answer that?” says she, wearily; “4s not all this enough? Well, it was but another lie, There was no other man. Now go! Florence,” says he, falling at her feet and catching a fold of her dress, “have mercy. I was mad. I know it. But—it ‘was madness born of my love for you! Hear me! pity me!” “No!” The word rings out right royally. She looks like a queen standing above him in her exquisite robe of clinging silk, and wen the dlamonds flashing on her neck and w against the advice of all his friends. They have started by and are well over the first hurdle, Waring’s mare—a plucky little thing—iead- ing by three or four heads. The second hurdie is past now, and some one in the grand stand says that Firewater is gaining ground. Florence Gascoigne, who is lean- ing over the ledge of the balcony, gives a start, and putting her to her eyes scans the scene bey: Yes, beyond all doubt, Firewater is overtaking the others. ge Fe oF - ee Firewater refuses it—there is a second’s pause—a short, low, terrible cry from Florence, heard only by her sister, who lays her hand in warning on her arm; and now Firewater is over it, his rider still upon his back. After that all stands out in a little mist before Miss Gascoigne’s eyes, and it is not until now, as they sweep round the corner, and are tearing toward the water j ‘that ber senses quite re- turn to her. e sees now! She throws up her head; the — to her eyes. He is leading. ter is a good head beyond all the others. He is racing madly tor the water jump. Vere lifts her well, she rises to it—she is over! Over! What is this? What ts this sick- ening heap upon the ground? The horse— one can see the horse, but the man—. Somebody carries Miss Gascoigne fainting She is kneeling beside his bed. They had given her permission to enter a while ago. le had been restored to consciousness last night, and had spent each hour since—at intervals—asking for her, demanding her. ‘The docter had at last said she must be brought to him if they wished to hold him back even for a little while from the land of death, Mrs. Margrove, her married sister, ayy ne = but outside his door she begged piteously to see him alone, and even the doctor had not the heart to refuse her. “You have come,” says Vere, softly, faintly. For all answer she lays her cheek against his hand. “I—wronged you.” “Oh, no—no—no,” cries she, “you shall not reproach yourself. And what ts your sin to mine, Digby? You condemael me unheard, I know—but I—I heard you say you Were going to ride that.” with a shud- Ger, “that awful horse, and yet,” bursting into tears, “I said no:%uing to “lissuade you. Oh, it was not that I did aot love you, Digby—only—only—I thought — “I know! You could not bear to lower your pride!” says he. “My darling, don’t ery lke that. I could not bear to lower my pride, either; I said, do you remember, to Carlton, that I would not hear an expian- ation from you, But I— “Oh, it wasn't that,” vays she, lifting her head ‘and looking at him through lovely tear-stained eyes. “It wasn’t pride of that sort. My pride was that I was sure you would win, that you would conquer Fire- I¢,"—burriedly—“if I had thought there was any real danger for you 1—I would bave gone to you, to dissuade you from riding him, even if 'I nad to run into the mess room before them all.” In spite of his weakness he laughs a lt- tle at this, He holds out is feeble arms to her. She creeps into them. “You are nobler than I am,” says he. “T wonder you ever came near me again. 1 wonder, too, Florence,” looking at her very sadly, “if you do really in your heart for- give me. You are sorry for me now, seeing to what a sad pass I have come. But if I were to get well/and strong again—would you forgive me ve He draws her y him- closer—but he does not att to kiss’ “What do take half laughing, | ing to forgit lips to his. “Now, I shall ing I don’t for- Dappy self come laughing a lit- his bedside, and back to her agait tle, sitting on the holding his hand. “And that, my own?" “That you didn’t win that race. I was so longing to see you come in at the head of I have won something else: something far better; the best in the world.” He draws her to him again, “I have won you.” —_+-e-—______ UNHAPPY CONDITION OF RUSSIA. Arguments as to the Danger of Lend- img Money to Her. From Darkest Russia. Summing up the facts, then, we find that Russian finances are based exclusively upon the solvency of the agricultural pop- ulation of the country; that these unfortu- nate people are hopelessly insolvent and are kept in a state of chronic starvation; that the corn indispensable to their existence is exported abroad; that they live for half the year in the open air, sleeping on the bare ground, and for the other half in hideous hovels; that they are obliged to sell their cattle and to burn the straw of their 1. in order to prolong this horrible iife, that they are physically degenerating and becoming unfit for manual labor; that the government, instead of attempting to im- prove their miserable lot, blithely continues to augment its budget in’ inverse to their insolvency flogging them for ar- ise money at per cent interest; that even under the most fa- vorable circumstances agriculture is produce a single grain of superfluous corn, ind that mismanagement has brought about such an abnormal state of things in th pire that good harvest is more ruinou than a failure of the cro; Lastly, that they in the teeth of these indubitable facts, or not only making a financially unsound in- vestment, but are rendering themselves moraily responsible for the untold misery of one hundred millions of their fellow-men. soe London Muste Halls. From the New York Evening World In London there is a big population com- posed of wealthy young nen wh» h never been lucky enough to have te ¢ their own living. We should cell them goo: for-nothings, but in London y are Eno for a great deal, and they support the m halls, an exceedingly praiseworthy tusk. They drop in, lounge around and trickle « They go to six or seven of them in a ni rushed there in hansom cabs, an] t never sing “Come Where the me Cheaper.” ‘They roll home at any time, « their day begins just as New York's vow men are going to luncheon. Ni London music hall proprietors ¢ j CRIES ON THE STREETS, Quaint Howis Which Have Waked the Echoes in London Town, Venders of Food and Their Stock im ‘Trade—Original Coster Mongers- In the shape of an odd little volume tie together with tape, a curiosity-loving antl- Quarian has gathered some of the cries of London's streets, both ancient and modern, Formerly merchandise of description was carried and streets. When shops were Little open shanties, the apprentice’s “What d'ye lack?” was often fed by @ running description of on sale, together with remarks sonal description, complimentary wise, to likely and unlikely buyers. A common Lorfdon cry at one “Buy @ tormentor for your fleas!” article is said to have been il Whe j the fea Ca i was, This the * ij & f ciel itty f j ies if ? : 5 hi , af # i . i i eH : fF if i i i i § § 7 i i fi z vit fi al uit $658 f t z ! tis i 3 5 § Hi tah i i it at yee i Hy | HI if ae his master, Jack 1s voiceless. ‘One of the most London ts that of meat. This is mostly delivered at houses in lumps ou skewers. It has been reckoned that the in London annually consume $500, of this sort of meat, but over estimate. ‘The bellows mender, who also a tinke>, used to carry London in @ bag of leather hi back. Door mats of rushes or sold by venders at from six; al shillings each. The earliest brought to the metropolitan dwarf variety, was called the it F; ili i i 2 i 5 i was heard son. Muffins and crumpets were then, a@ now, hawked about during the winter months. Hot pudding, heavy and indigest- ible, was sold in halfpenny slabs. The shout was: “Who wants some pudding nice and bet? *Tis now the time to try it; Just taken from the smoking pot, And taste before you buy it.” The cry, “One-a-peuny, two-a-penny, goss bunat” ts no longer heard on Friday, though still part of a child's sane It is considered one of the best of English quantative meire, being repeated in measured time, and not merely with the | ordinary accents. Sand in Old London. Sand was sold on the streets in ld-fime | London, where much of it was used ty housewives for cleaning kitchen utensile and for eprinkling over uncarpeted floors, It was vended by measure—red sand twe enny, and white a penny and @ peak ‘ The London of a century ago had a eee. brated vender of gingerbread who was eons g nt tradesmen. He and was always of rank, with rugied ings, a fashionsble a wig and a cocked hat. He public festivals ve of his nonswnse amusing th | has been pre: ou now. Mazy? nd, with @ ot. Walk in, shop is on th da brass knock nice gingr Punch tn his rth has introduced ecution scene of the rn. 3 were of tin, Sometimes the vem uted Young lambs to sell, young lambs to wah | Two for a penny, » lambs to sell, 3f 14 as much + eB 1 col