Evening Star Newspaper, September 30, 1893, Page 10

THE EVENING STAR: WASHINGTON, D. ©. SATURDAY. SEPTEMBER 30. 1893—EIGHTEEN PAGES RAVENSWORTH MANSION. THE LEES. a ees HOME OF The Picturesque Fairfax Court House. ee ee MANY HISTORIC TREASURES The Descendants of the Famous Confederate Leader. RAVENSWORTH’S CHARMS. ‘Written for The Evening Star. AKE THE FIRST road to your right, go through the woods till you strike the old Braddock road,which is the first road crossing yours, turn into it to the left and drive for two miles and you will get there.” These are the di- rections given us as we come to a halt on the Alexandria x turnpike after a four-mile drive from Fair- | fax Court House. We follow our instructor's advice and in due time reach the stone pillars and tron gate mark, the entrance to one of the most picturesque, and, after Mount Vernon, perhaps the most histor- feally interesting of Virginia homes— Ravensworth which, since the confiscation by the government of their patrimonial estate of Arlington, has been the home of the surviving members of the family of Gen. Robert E. Lee. it was inherited by its present owners from the Fitzhughs, whose family estate it became early in the eighteenth century. ‘The relationship between the Lees and Fitz- bugs ts of long existence, but was made closer by Gen. R. E. Lee's mazriage with Mary Randolph Custis, the oniy daughter of George Washington Parke Custis (the grandson of Gen. Washington's wife, and pied son of Gen. Washington), whose wife was Mary Lee Fitzhuch. The first owner of the estate was William Fitzhugh, known in his time as the Baron of Ravensworth. His son was the philan- thropist William Henry Fitzhugh, after whom Gen. William Henry Fitzhugh Lee, the late owner of Ravensworth, was named. ‘The latter, who was the Congressman from the eighth district of Virginia, died two years ago. He was one of Virginia's best beloved sons and inherited in a large degree the characteristics of his father, Gen. Kob- ert E. Lee. Ravensworth is now the home of his widow and her two sons, Robert E. ee, also the sometime Robert E. tired and Miss M Lee. ‘The driveway forms a half circle to the right. leaving directly in front of the house a@ clear stretch of lawn about an eighth of a mile im length. The lawn and avenue are Dordered by fine old shade trees of various kinds, incivding some, beautiful fir trees of many years’ grow first sight the house presents the ap- <4 somewhat plain old-fashfoned the only ornamentation lish ivy that climbs over and completely hides the stonework of the lower portion of the brownish frame building. Two handsome peacocks greet us noisily 8 we step from our conveyance on to the ide steps of the pillared wooden portico. A knock on the old-fashioned brass knocker brings an attendant, who ushers us into a spacious hail extending across the house from front to rear, and from which we pass through Venetian doors to the southern veranda, the favorite summer lounging place of the family. from this is ideally beautiful. The veran- da itself extends the entire iencth of the main buliding. is twelve feet wide and about the same height in the lower part. and supported by eight strong pillars. It con. tinues up to the top of the house, the upper Part serving as porches for the rooms above. country being the F The Pretty Grounds. From a seat here one looks down on the most beautiful of lawns, clean and close shaven, and ¢otted here and there with trees, among them a mammoth Arbor Vitae, some fine fir trees and a number of orang: and lemon trees. rectly in front of the porch by potted plants artistically arranged in stands and on the ground. At its southern extremity the lawn Ravensworth, South Front. stretches away over a terrace, now over- grown with the wild sweet pea, which snows itself in the early summer a mass of pink fm a bed of deep green. The left wing of the house contains the kitchen department, which is, as is usual in old Virginia homes, surrc@aded by a little colony of small out- | houses. These are now used as smoke house, store houses, &c. To the right of the house is the green house, in which the delicate trees and plants now outside are wintered. Over the lower part of this side of the house also the English ivy has clambered, as well as over the trunk of an immense cid tree which stands close by. Indeed the ivy seems to have shown a special attachment for this home of these scions of old Eng- land, for it is to be found in all the spaces wherein it can get a foothold. From the lawn we stroll through an alley of green shrubbery into the flower garden, which is kept up in the old English style, though Miss Lee tells us that it is alsoa rep- Fesen‘ation of the Virginia garden of by- gone days. It ts cut up into small fanci- fully shaped beds, bordered with box, anc intersect2d by narrow walks. One whole section is devoted to geraniums in all the tones of red. Another contains all the old- fashioned flowers, the «ight of which Ties us back to the days “befo" de wa The walk continues, still throush archways, beyond the flower garien, up a slight ascent, to its summit, where stands @ large circular summer house contaming Fustic chairs and teb! A little to the right of this is Rocks.” a pile formed of several large boul- ders, which by some means have grouped themselves artistically together on the hill- top and can just be seen rough their summer covering of Virgini: other wild vines. Retracing our steps, we follow another | path. which leads to the family graveyard. This is inclosed by a v overed stone wall, entered vy a heavy fron gate. The inclosure is filled with graves, though but four monuments mark the last res Places of the original owners of the e These are sacred to the memory of W Mam Fitzhugh, horn September 4. 1741. December 19, 18, and of William He Fitzhugh. born March 9, 1790, diel May 180, and of their Anna Maria Fitzhugh. The pleasure grounds an area of about twent res. where that it has been possible n been allowed her way in orderin ng Anne Fitzhugh and Fangement of all, and she has heen generous im bestowing her zifts of beauty; but art Bas lberally supplied what she has left im- perfect, but with such regard for nature's Old Mansion Near The scene | ‘The lawn is bordered di- | creeper and | | atctates that it ts Impossible to distinguish where nature ends and art commences. Historical Treasures. It is with reluctant fect that the visitor | leaves these shaded walks and lovely vistas | ‘A NOTE OF WARNING. ——-___ From the New York Times. There had never been a beginning, at least that we could remember. Since we had known ourselves Ruth and I had known and loved each other. Together we had played on the sunds when we were s0| little that each one was a care to the other. | Together we had toddled, hand in hand, to! the primary school, and sauntered arm in arm to the Foundation. Together we had sailed within the retreat of the harbor and then over the rolling bar into the rock- bound bay, until we dared venture on the mighty surges of the Atlantic and had tested and proved our blood by circumnavi- gating the island. And when I left for the university there had been no coquetry, no doubt. “God bring you back to me, Ralph,” said Ruth, as she stood within arm's reach of me on the point of the pier. “I’m not leaving you, | Gear, I'm simply preparing our home,” said Tas I leaned over the rail from the deck. Each day of the four years, varying as | and re-enters the house to examine the his- | !t did in storm, sunshine, heat and cold, was " | cons i j torical treasures of the family, but once in- | Constant in this single joy. i the beauty left behind | Ruth to me and a letter from me to Ruth, ide one forgets in the interest excited by the many souven- irs of bygone days. In the hall two life-size paintings of Mr. and Mrs. William Fitzhugh, the ancestral jot thelr domain. stands an old English eight-day clock that rings out the hours in sonorous tones. eads of the house, look down on invaders | the horizon, every wave which e1 in a corner near them | and hfted us up seemed to sa: A ietter from And when I returned with my degree and we sailed again over the rolling bar, be- yond the dark, shadowy waters of the bay, and out on the broad ccean until our island home was but a smudge like a sea scud on braced us ‘It was Yesterday that we greeted you and tomor- | Tow we shall greet you again.” ‘The hall is lit by day by a large window | All through that summer we sailed over | high up in the wall above the winding | the trackless waters whose paths were well staircase that leads to the chamber above, | defined to us. We were both expert, but and by night by a quaint old hanging lamp | Ruth was the better sailor, as she was my = a frame of cut glass with brass mount- ings. From the hall we stép into the drawing room on the right. tending across the width of the house and lighted by two windows at each end. The | appointments here are disappointingly mod- ern, it being furnished for the summer in white and pale yellow and blue. It is a charming room, yet here. it seems at | variance with the rest of the old mansion. Hanging here is a water-color portrait of the late Gen. William Henry Fitzhugh Lee, | and near it is a fine engraving of his grand- | father, “Light Horse Harry” Lee. Above | this on the w: hangs an excellent oil | painting of Newburg-on-Hudson, by Weir, and at each side of the doorway are quaint | landscapes in oil, the work of Mrs. Gen. R. | E. Lee, who was an amateur of a good | deal of versatility and no little taient. This room is filled with relics of various | interest, a number of them being souvenirs of the foreign travels of Miss Mildred and Miss Mary Lee. Among them are a bowl {of brass from Egypt and a curious jug from Damascus. From a passage leading from the bil- |liard room we ascend to the bed rooms Ravensworth Stable. in this wing. These are all furnished with the substantial mahogany of long ago, and some beautiful things there are among the many bedsteads, bureaus, chairs. There fs a wonderful, high, square | writing desk in dark mahogany, with brass handles and innumerable little drawers and pigeon holes, thet would delight the heart of a connoisseur of the antique. But among the most striking of the old pleces are a set of heavy square-backed chairs, with white covers elaborately and exquisitely embroidered, the work of the maids of the lady of the manor of long ago. In all of these rooms hang more of the oid English engravings, some again by Hogarth, and an | oil ‘painting by J. Reynolds, which repre- sents “His Royal Highness William Au- gustus, Duke of Cumberland.” On ‘the walls of these rooms are some fine and rare portraits of Gen. Washington. | Am Antique Dining Room. | The next room, and the last we visit, 1s the most interesting of all—the dining room. | Around its walls hang the family por- | traits, and here stands the family silver. | The room {s today in its general aspect | much as it was 100 years ago. Some of the | old furniture remains—a coloni# mahogany | table with brass feet, some huge, square, | upholstered chairs, the fine old brass and- | trons in the wide-open fireplace, with the little pair of English bellows hanging near —but for the most part the furniture is of a more modern date, though dark, heavy and substantial, and in perfect harmony with the older furnishings. | The room is of fine proportions, being twenty-seven feet long by twenty-two feet | wide, with a high celling. It has four win- dows, two on the north and two on the south side, is wainscoted all around to the height of about three feet and the floor is jof richly polished walnut. A glass door opposite to the one by which we entered from the hall leads to a conservatory on the left, which, in winter when filled with flow- ers, must lend a grateful tone of bright- ness to the heavy surroundings. On the south wail of the dining room one recognizes the well known face of Gen. Robert E. Lee. This ts a life size paint- ing by Elder of Richmond, who has done several of the best known of the Gen. Lee portraits. one of them hanging in the sen- ate at Richmond, another in the University of Virginia, and’ still another in the coun- ceil chamber of the city of Savannah. Near Gen. Lee's portrait hangs that of | his wife, by Ulke. It shows a face of great refinement and strong intellectual power. Opposite to his father hangs an oil paint- ing of Gen. William Henry Fitzhugh I & very lifelike portrait, and on either side of him his ancestors, William Henry Fitz- hugh and his wife. The latter's picture is that of a young woman of great beauty of figure and sweetness of countenance. On the west wall hang two good specimens of Saint Memin's portraiture. profiles on pink paper of William Fitzhugh and of Col. George Washington Parke Custis. Be- side the latter is an oll painting of his wife. Beneath these are life size copies in Joil_ paintings of General and Mrs. Wash- ington in their younger days, by Rem- brandt Peale. who was the artist of so | many of the Washington portraits, On the wall opposite to this hang the an- cestors of Mrs. William Henry Fitzhush | Lee. the present mistress of Ravensworth, who was one of the Rollings of Virginia. Among them are the portraits of her grand- ather and grandmother. The latter was a 8 Stith of Kine Georze county. and she married Mr. Georze Bolling of Peters- burg. a descendant | when he was sixty and ehe seventeen. and | was his fourth wife. She was considered a great beauty in her day. ‘The Family Silver. | On the sideboard and In a glass cupboard | near it stands the family silver. Most of it has descended from thelr ancestors to its | present possessors, and to much of It there 4s some interesting history attached. There is the remnant of a large silver service, a | basket of exquisite open-work desizn, and |a salver, both marked with the Parke coat of arms, which was presentad by Queen Anne to Col. Parke for gallant:y shown at | the battle of Blenheim, when he acted as | ald-de-camp to the Duke of Marlborough. The story as given to us by Miss Lee is | that when Queen Anne requesied him to name some favor oF present she eonld be- stow on him in recognition of his ces he gallantly asked only for her picture. So pleased was she with this act of chivalry (to herself that she at once vave him an exquisite miniature of herself. set in @ | monds, and afterwards sent him the mag- nificent service of which the pieces spoken of are a part Near these stands a massive silver stirrup cup. which, when full, must have required stalwart arms to pass up to the riders ere 1 on their journeys. for it takes ands to hold it empty. This was once property of the Carters of Virginia, @ related to the I Beside this there are beer mugs, salvers and seve: handsome services, some of them of mod- ern date, but most of them handed down from the Lees, Fitzhughs, Custises and Bol- lings of times past. Ina corner of the stands som. room remnants it being portions of sets ross seas, some from Ens- » from India. Refore taking mansion the visitor k at the large brick ‘ol. Custis, who was 1 celebrity rather a lo ture In his day the plans of many of tho=e as he wes the originator of | hood. SUSAN HUNTER. It is a large room ex- | tables and | Seven sanontas, | self. Why, he knew all about Ruth; I had | apprehension, a mistake. another cupboard of glass, | of ancestral in stable architec- | superior in all respects. I was apt to be indifferent, unmindful, enwrapped__ wit! dreams, but there was an instinct of Ruth whose every impulse was timely and com- plete. Often when I was far away within the Temple of Fame, at work at that niche | which surely was to be mine, her quick hand on the sheet had saved us from cap- sizing. Perhaps I was the more careless since I felt that wherever Ruth was ihere also were peace and security. How we talked over our future, for there never had been a time when chat future hadn’t been ours. I was to go to the city in the autumn and enter the law schvol. How faithfully I would work and how learned I would become! And then, when 1 had established myself in my profession, we were to be married and buy a cottage, with surrounding grounds, in the suburban university town whose shades I loved so well, and Ruth did, too, because I did, and ever after we were to be happy, as we ever had been—together! ‘We each had a little money, small enough in aggregate, yet we believed that it would | keep us untit my success came. My suc- cess! What brilliant-hued likeness of it we drew! I was to be a great advocate, of @ dread to all designing men, but a of strength, especially to the weak and the unfortunate. Besides—though this “besides” was generdlly my own—there | was my divine gift, my poesy. What golden showers might it not conjure for us! I had indeed won quite a name for occasioni verse, for which I had facility, but this wa: nothing to what that Utopian “some day’ should bring when the great poem of which I was always dreaming was published and the bay leaves were bound about my brows by admiring throngs! “But never neglect the real for the ideal,” Ruth would say gravely. “We can get along without the pinnacie, but not with- out the foundation. Future fancy is pleas- anter than present duty; but I prefer our cottage to your temple with its niche, don’t you, dear?” ; Sweet little Ruth, so prudent, so wise! She should have her cottage surely, T vow- ed; but as we sat on its veranda at even- tide we would see the sunlight gilding the minarets of that temple also. ‘The autumn came and brought the day of my departure. Again Ruth stood cn the point of the pier; again I leaned over the rail; again we talked as if never before we had talked, until the captain sh outed, the nj was drawn, an: e hawsers foosed. “Then, as the paddles churned, Ruth ched on tip of toe. “Here, Ralph, she cried, and she reached me a note. Rather puzzled—for this was not like Ruth —I went into the cabin and read it. It was but a line: “Ralph: I ask you to be suspicious of Frank Dunbar. Ruth.” How surprising, how tncompcchensible! T might almost as well be suspicto1s of Ruth! Yet that “almost” was a long word, believe me. But Frank Dunbar, my friend! My roommate at the university, and now egain to be at the law school! How could T be suspicious of one who was constant in kind- ness to me, whom I respected for his char- acter, and ‘honored for his ability? Surely, something which I had said in ray blunder- ing way must have misled Ruth; yet, what had_ I said, except praiseworthy things? For the first time I almost doubted Ruth’s judg- ment. But, again, that “almost” was a long word, believe me. Frank Dunbar! How spotless, how noble he appeared, as 1 considered him. His nickname revealed his charac s nick- names always do. “Perfection” Danbar! Never had he varied a hairbreadth from the line of duty. Never had he taken part in frolics—rarely in pleasures. Work was his preference—work that told. He had led his class; but this had not wufficed. His exuberant energy had mastered the modern languages and the theory of music. Yet he was never a prig. He sympathized with the weaknesses of others, though he had none himself. No one could !augh more heartily over scrapes, nor picture revelry more enticingly. But when others, after such a conversation, rushed headiong and heedless into trouble, Frank returned tran- quilly to his books. He never preached, never sought to inculcate his principles. That Is what we all liked in Aim. Often he would say to me: “Go aheal, old bo: What's the difference? Enjoy your youth Yet he was a year younger than 7. He was such a prudent fellow, too, was Frank. He lived like the rest of ‘us, hut he discriminated between comfort and ex- travagance. So, while we were generally in debt, and sometimes in distress, he al- ways had plenty of money. I used to be so sorry for him. He couldn't lend, for he had promised his father, and he would grieve lest his inability shouid be miscon- strued. Frank was ambitious, truly. squire, emulous of his’ spurs, been more so. Yet he was distrustful of his powers. “I can't do what you fellows do,” he would say, humbly. “I must stick to my treadmill.” ’ And, while we all real- ized his mental as well as moral sitperior- ity, we liked him the better for veiling it. We respected his honest scruples and never sought to tempt him from his course. How heart-single, too, was T'rank. Though not a handsome man, for he had small eyes, red hair, and a ‘short, squat figure, he was fascinating in manier and speech. He attracted and retained Interest. There were many sides to his nature, and that side which would be most consonant and agreeable to a companion he intultiv ly revealed. We all concurred in the opin- jon that he would prove irresistible to any woman if he should ever care to exert him- self. But he bad no time for romance, so he said. And yet what a confidant he was; never prying, never curious; but learning one’s secret thoughts as if in spite of him- talked of her for hours at a time, and he had been just as Interested, just as helpful, when I finished as when T began. I had read her letters to him; and he wi “Good night, Ruth," “Good morning, Ruth, to her little picture which was enshrined in a blue cabinet on the mantel of our study just as I did. Ruth knew all about him, too. Why, my letters and our talks had been full of him for years. Was that not natural, since he was my hero, as she was my darling? Besides they had met and were such good friends. Ruth had often attended events at the university, and during this past summer Frank had’ visited me at our island home, and had sailed with us over the bar and through the bay and out on the broad surges. Of all our happy days, those when Frank had been with were the happiest. How versatile, how brilliant, how charming he had been! For once ne had tried all his gifts to their utmost, out of loyalty to me, his friend. And yet Ruth had written this note of warning. Could she be jealous? I laughed at the thought. Ruth was Ruth. Besides, if such an impossible emotion had entered her dear littie heart, perfect love would have cast it forth immediately. No, there was no explanation. It was simply ‘2 mis- I kissed the little note and laid it away in my pocketcase, re- solved never to think of it again. Should I doubt friendship might not my faith be so shattered that I would even come to doubt love also? I reached the city station at eventide, and there was Frank awaiting me, qulet, ‘self- contained as ever, but oh, so glad to see m “My dear boy!’ What happiness to hav you with me again!” he exclaimed. “And how brave and bonny we've grown, to be sure. Right foot forward, and on to su cess, hey? Well, well! Oh, fortunate youth And tears shone in Frank’s eyes. I, was moved. W1 i such manifest affection? “Some of the fellows are Blang’s,” sald Frank. * around nice quiet place, the neizhbor- | most respectable. We might Join them for @ while and renew old time: No young | ould have | at} Agreed. We went, and spent such a jolly evening of song and reminiscence and good cheer. But the next morning when I awoke with such a dizzy head there was Frank, cool and alert, pegging away at his desk. “I must do it, you know,” he sald apolo- getically. “Thank your stars you're not a tortoise, and take another doze.” The next day I started briskly at my studies, determined to master the law. For weeks Frank and I worked steadily side by side, weeks of contentment for me, for I felt that I was doing my duty and pleasing Ruth. The little note didn’t disturb me. 1 never referred to it in my daily letters. My resent course seemed its best answer. | After a while, though, came interruptions. Our merry friends of the first evening be- gan to drop into our rooms. I believed that most of them were not prudent companions and I told Frank so. “You're right,” he replied. “Still, they're A little reckless, such dear, good fellows. mere froth, and beneath is perhaps, but it’ worthy substance. Because we are fixed we |musn’t be Pharisaical, Ralph. We owe a duty to our old comrades, don’t you think?” I did think, and with shame. How open |and manly Frank was in every way! So, | evenings, there was apt to be a jovial gath- |ering in’ our rooms. No one would be s0 jolly, so full of suggestions of sport as | Frank, until suddenly he would clutch his hair with mock gravity and shout: “Now clear out, you fellows, every one of you. Ralph can go with you. He takes to the law like a duck to water. But I am the | Plowman who must plod his weary way.” | And off we'd go, at heart quite sorry for Frank. One day he said to me, noticing that I was yawning over my books as I had yawned much of late: ‘How's the epic, Ralph?” “There's no need of ridiculing it,” I re- plied rather sharply. “You know very well what I hope some day to do— “The Adven- tures of Alvarado’ in heroic verse. Doubt- less it will never see light, but respect its prenatal condition. “My dear boy, don't be so touchy. You wrong me. You know what faith I have in your genius. I want you to take up this subject in all seriousness. Let me do the boning; you can achieve success in a leap.” “Or fail in the ditch. ‘Or wake some morning lke Byron to yourself famous. “But the lectures, the cramming, the moot courts. What would Ruth think should I neglect these obligations? “What would she think should you re- ceive your due and be hailed as America’s laureate before you are twenty-five? ‘Tis woman truly who clings to the young knight and entreats him to stay from the wars; but when he returns glorious, she 13 the first to crown him. Besides, law is 80 natural to you. You know that your judg- ment exceeds your industry. You can read- ily make up the work of a quarter in a fortnight. But the profession will never be even an incident to you, believe me. No man will grub if he can fly.” Oh, rare and beauteous vision that rose before me! The little cottage with Ruth in the quiet university town; the delightful toil in the study, with Ruth by my side as an inspiration; the society of the cultured; the praise of the worthy! “Surprise her,” suggested Frank. Aye, I would: I would refine the gold of my intellect. I tossed Justinian into a cor- ner behind the lounge, and there he lay un- til the dust was as thick as his age might warrant. ‘Thereafter I dreamed and dreamed—until I was aroused. How careful Frank was of my moods, for, of course, I became moody. He taught me that a poet must be a child of impulse, not @ man of habit; that when the spirit moved him he must drive his thoughts until they tottered from weariness; but, except when that mysterious spell settled, he must suf- fer them to recruit in apparent idleness. He led me to believe, oh, so easily, that I, poor T, indeed! was as one set apart and chosen, not answerable to the calls of duty nor ac- countable for foibles. He would instance Horace and Dryden and Chatterton and Savage and Sheiley and Byron. Byron es- pecially he considered my prototype; and I was dolt enough to think so, too. “Here, you fellows!” he would cry, “take Ralph out of this rush for a hurrah. Pegasus’ wings are drooping.” Ard the lively, gen- erous-hearted lads would oll the downward grade with sincere adulation. I did work, feverishly, unnaturally, turn- ing night into day, and’ burning the candle at both ends. I became nervous, irritable, overwrought; but each manifestation was greeted as a proof of the divine afatus which filled me. I grew careless of my ap- pearance. My collar was rolled back, my hair disheveled—oh, what an egregious ass! As for money, I disdained it as dross. When I had it I’ flung it broadcast, but the lack of it never restrained me. I had a credit which would have been inexplicable to a rational man, but I accepted it tribute to my genius. No jackdaw ever be- lieved in his borrowed plumage or strutted as arrogantly as did I. I posed before the distorted lens of Conceit and thought its reflection real. In one thing alone I was constant. I wrote to Ruth the same con- tented, cheery daily letters as of yore. Oh, how hard it was! Sentence by sentence I dragged through a task that had formerly been such a delight. Yet I succeeded—at least I thought I did. The spring came. After infinite copyings and recopyings “Alvarado” was finished. “Don't prune,” warned Frank, as I h tated over passages of my wildest moments. “Luxuriance is the poet's attribute.” And so I bound the mighty pile of manu- script together and sent it confidently to a leading publisher. Confidently, indeed, for my assurance had achieved a’ brief apoth- eosis. Then followed an intolerable walt- ing, bringing doubt, dread and misery. ‘The fever had passed and left my mind, too weak for any exertion, a prey to worry. My gay companions were gay no longer. In the face of the approaching examinations they were throwing up earthworks of des- perate diligence. Yet when I tried to dig also I found I was absolutely impotent. Where now was my Intuitive knowledge of the law, where that judgment so accordant with equity? Alas! I comprehended that I had risked everything on a single cast, and I dared not think what this everything might include. Then it was that I noticed a singular change in Frank. “Just look at my duns," I said to him one day anxiously, holding up a mass of bills and letters. “It seems impossible that I could have been so reckless. Why, I must have been crazy. “You certainly have had an agreeable fac- ulty of ignoring such little matters.” “But what shall I d “Do? You have money, haven't you?” “Gone, all gone. “Phew! You have been going it, haven't you, in spite of precept and example. Oh, well, your precious ‘Aivarado’ will settle everything, I guess,” and Frank laughed. It wasn't a pleasant laugh, nor did it sound like Frank; but I was so troubled that I scarce appreciated t then, “Do you really think so?’ I questioned, eagerly. “I mean what I say. Tt will settle every- thing—you included. But doubties# Ruth wiil pay.” I leaped to my feet in a rage. Frank con- fronted me for an instant with cold, sarcas- tle eyes, then he shrugged his shoulders dis- dainfully and left the room. T sank in a chair, trembling and gasping. What did it all mean? Was I held by a horrible dream? Such words, such looks from Frank, my friend, my ‘Pylades, my Mentor! Could it be that he had changed, that I had changed, that the future was a void, that the past was a sham, and that nothing was real except the present debt, the approaching examinatibn, the impend- ing disgrace? I opened my pocket case. I read vue note of warning from Ruth, so long unheeded. Again I couldn't comprehend it, but I did thoroughly realize that whatever she sald should have been obeyed with a true lover's fealty. For hours I sat pressing my throbbing head within my hands, trying to shut out the disordered visions which flashed before me. Then came a knock at the door. I opened {t, and a messenger entered, laid a large, yellow parcel on the table, and with- drew. Did I recognize the wrapper? Oh, didn't I! A hundred years weighted me as I glanced at it, The very paper! The very string which I had knotted with such ex- cited fingers! Oh, dear, oh, dear! too well did I know what had happened. There was a note which I read in a flash. “Regret— evident merit—voluminous—expense to war- rant publicatior I threw “Alvarado” into the corner behind the lounge, avhere its fall scattered the dust from ‘Justinian. Then I moaned. The room faded away. Again I felt the clinging air of the island home. Again I saw the harbor, the rolling bar, the rock-bound bay, the broad surges of the Atlantic; but, alas! somber and mel- ancholy were their ‘sweeps, a requiem, not a welcome, for I was alone. Where, oh, where was Ruth? There were heavy steps on the stairs. The door opened, and my principal creditor mtered, accompanied by a marshal, ‘I want you, my man,” said that functionary. “But you can’t arrest for debt,” I stam- mered. “How about fraud and fake representa- tion and pretense? This man claims that ‘ou have deceived him into believing you a young millionaire, when you haven't a G3 I never said such a word.” Xo, but your room mate did, many a time,” interrupted my creditor. Oh, {t was’ a cunning catch between you. But you're vastly mistaken if you think you can do me without smarting for ft.” “Come along!” said the officer. At this juncture Frank strolled in whist- ling. In an instant all recent doubts had fied: I only remembered our old intimacy, ‘Oh, Frank!" I cried. “Help me!” He looked at the officer and winked amusedly. “No green there,” he ejaculated. Then he turned toward me. “You will have to excuse me,” he said, suavely, “if I decline to walk the floor instead of our confiding friend here. Besides, I have an urgent en- gagement. I'm off to the island home to “ehnen whi blood roared within my en, while the ears and clouded my eyes, a wonderful thing occurred. Again the door opened. A little form glided to my side and threw her arms about me, and Ruth's voice exclaimed, oh, so blithely: ‘hat won't be necessary, Mr. Dunbar. You can find me here for the future with my husband.” Then she went to the men and whispered @ few words, and they sneaked away shame-faced. ‘1 told you she would pay, you cur, sneered Frank, “Hush, dear,” she interposed. “Why ‘Whatever is mine becomes his shouldn't I? on our wedding day. ‘Then, at length, I comprehended the note of warning, for as Frank departed from my sight and from my life his glance, as it rested on Ruth, changed from one of flerce malignity to one of unutterable longing and despair. What more shall I say? The sequel is the ld unreal ending, but for us most real: “They were ever after happy.” We were married that day, for Ruth scarcely dared trust me from her sight. In a few years the little cottage in the quiet university town became an actuality. I was never a “dread” nor a “tower of strength,” I am sure, but I honestly earned our daily bread. And more, during one summer vacation I picked up “Alvarado,” and I slashed it well, remorsefully hewing away all that lux- uriance which is a-true poet's attribute, and I sent it, much shrunken, to a pub- Usher. ‘One evening, as I sat on the veranda, Ruth brought me a letter. It contained a bewildering offer for the poem. “My dear,” said I, as I showed it to her, “perhaps we may yet see the s ing the minarets of that temple. ‘You see,” she exclaimed, ‘Because in you I have everything,” I replied. ——+e+____ MEN’S DAILY DUTIES Sometimes Determines the Length of Their Lives. During thirty-four years and eight months there died in the state of Massachusetts 161,891 men of over twenty years of age, whose occupations were specified in the registry of their decease. The average age at which they died was fifty-one years. ‘The number is so great and the period cov- ered 1s so long that by the study of the classification of the employment of those dead we can get a very fair idea of the comparative ages at which men in differ- ent occupations, and in an ordinarily healthy community, are swept away by death. It is noticeable that of all who died the cultivators of the earth attained the highest average age, about sixty-five and a half years, and they made up more than a fifth of the total number. We all know why farm- ers as a class, not only in this but in all countries, should live to a ripe old age. They enjoy good air and are free from many of the cares that beset those living in cities, to say nothing of the constant noise and excitement which destroys the nerves and racks the system. It is rarely that & farmer dies before his head is gray. Farmers, as @ rule, too, do not, to any great degree, indulge in alcoholic bever- ages. One important fact must be taken into consideration concerning the farmer and his age, which ts that the weaklings of the farmer's family do not, as a rule, re- main on the farm after attaining an age fitting them for some pursuit. Such are sent to the cities to choose a trade or a profession, and only the strong and healthy ones who are fitted for the work are re- tained upon the farm. ‘The class next to the farmers in the av- erage of life is that class called “active me- chanics abroad,” such as brickmakers, car- penters, masons, tanners, miltwrights, rig- gers, calkers, slaters and stonecutters, but the average axe of the 12,000 of them who died in Massachusetts during the period mentioned was much below that of the farmers. It was only about fifty-two and three-quarter years, a Uttle over a year more than the average age of all the classes together. Of all these out-door trades the ship carpenters showed the highest age—more than fifty-nine—and the slaters, who pursue a dangerous calling, the lowest—about forty. The average age of all the others of these trades, except the stonecutters and the brickmakers, was about fifty-one, and above the average of all the classes. In the Professions. Next to the active mechanics abroad come the professional men, whose average age at death was over fifty-one. Of this class the longest-lived were the judges and Justices, proverbially celebrated for their great years, They lived on the average sixty-four years, and led all the trades and professions except the farmers, over sixty- five, and those denominated as gentlemen, sixty-eight, the highest average age at- tained by any of the classes. The deaths in onty six different occupations were at an age on an average above sixty. They were, first, the gentlemen, sixty-eight; second, the ‘farmers, sixty-five; third, the judges, sixty-four; fourth, the light-house keepers, sixty-three; tifth, ‘the basket-makers, sixty- one, and sixth, the pilots, sixty. In some countries clergymen are the longest-lived, but in Massachusetts they fell below ali these six classes, the average age of the 1,100 of them who died during the thirty- four years being only a little above fifty- nine. Of the professional men, those set down ‘as students died at the earliest age, the average being onty about twenty-three. then came the professors, well over fifty- Seven years; then the lawyers, fifty-six years; then ‘the physicians, over fifty-five years; public officers, fifty-five. Sheriffs, constables and policemen died at the aver- age age of fifty-three, while editors and re- porters were gathered into the tomb be- fore they had completed their forty-seventh year. The lives of comedians were also short, hardly reaching thirty-nine years cn the average, and dentists were cut down at an average age of forty-two. The artists also died early, their average age being forty-four years. The musicians lived only to forty-two, and the teachers died at about the same age. ‘The merchants, financiers, agents and clerks come next after the professional men, and one of the classes included under this head, that of gentlemen. exceeded all others in its average, over sixty-elght years. The bankers, who lived on the average to more than fifty-nine years, were the long- est-lived of this class, and then came bank officers, nearly fifty-six; merchants, over fifty-four; booksellers ‘about fifty-three; manufacturers, fifty-two, and inn-keepers and brokers, fifty years. ‘The shortest-lived of their class were the telegraphers, who died at the average age of twenty-eight. Clerks and bookkeepers also died early, at the age of thirty-six. Rail- road agents and conductors departed this life on the average at about forty years, and druggists and apothecaries at forty- two, while saloon and restaurant keeners were put to final rest at forty-one. Next in order came the active mechanics in shops and the laborers, of no special trades, the averaze of both being a little short of forty-eight. Of the first class the longest- lived were the coopers. their average age at death being about fifty-nine years, Next to them, total abstinence people will be sur- prised to learn, came the distillers, fifty- elght years. ——_—__+-e-____ Women Successful as Voters. From the New Haven Palladium. ‘The ladies of the city are congratulated upon thelr successful first appearance as voters. They were dignified and courteous. No evidence is at hand that they smashed any ballot boxes, windows, or heads, and of “scraps” and snarls they had none. They didn't try to vote more than once, which is often enough for an honest woman, and when they had deposited their ballots they didn't take a drink or drinks before going to the nearest corner to discuss the situa- tion and prospects. They did their duty as good citizens—honestly, faithfully, intel- ligentiy—and the Palladium extends its hand to them in hearty congratulation. ‘They came, they saw, they voted accord- ing to their convictions, and conquered ig- norant prejudice, thus demonstrating to the satisfaction of themselves first, and to the men, that they are not too timid or too weak to do their duty as they understand it. — see. A Movable Feast. From Life. — eae THE NEW PALAIS ROYAL. A Splendid Business Building to Be Opened to the Public Monday. Removing a Great Establishment— How the Store at 11th and G Streets is Arranged—Mr. Linner’s Success. In a certain sense the removal of the Palais Royal to its new home at the corner of llth and G streets marks an epoch in the business development of the city. This week the old store has been crowded with people who have been taking advantage of the bargains resulting from the removal sale. Next Monday morning at 8 o'clock the doors of the Palais Royal's new home will be thrown open to the public, and it goes without saying that this event will be noted, by the feminine half of the popu- lation especially. People who know the work that comes from moving household effects can have but a small idea of what it means to move the contents of such a store as this. For days past everybody connect- ed with the establishment has been work- ing hard and long, and as all new stock is sent direct to the new store, the resuit will be that when the doors are opened it will be hard to realize that the Palais Royal has not been in possession there for a long time. Just at present it is a veritable hive of industry, but as the army of workers is @ trained one and under good generaling, order has already come out of chaos. Sixteen years ago Mr. A. Lisner started a small store with a force of seven clerks. Monday morning he will be the proud head of an establishment that is secon to none in point of completeness of equipment, magnitude and admirable arrangement. It is an establishment with no less than fifty departments, giving employment to nearly six hundred people. It is a building impos- ing in size, and elaborate and tasteful in design, with four immense floors and a basement, fitted up with all the latest im- provements and conveniences, well lighted, well ventilated and containing beneath its substantial roof everything that goes to make un a great business establishment of this sort, from a hairpin to a hair mattress, from house-furnishing goods to fabrics of the most delicate sorts appropriate for ball- gowns for the butterflies of fashion. In ite new quarters the Palais Royal will be a vastly more extensive establishment than it has ever been before. New departments are to be introduced which were never pos- sible in the old building, owing to lack of room. Especial attention 1s to be paid to the matter of dry goods, which department is to be on the second floor of the great building at the corner of lith and G streets. ‘The New Bul The new building, with tts ground, rep- resents an outlay of about a half million: dollars. The value of the stock within it is @ matter for conjecture. The new building covers a lot 100 by 140 feet, and these dimen- sions represent practically the dimensions of the several floors. There is an entrance on llth street and another on G street. Huge Plate glass windows, as near together as they can be put, make the building so light and airy that its owner has good reason for the claim that in this respect it has no superior anywhere. Inside there is room in abundance, broad isles, spacious stair- ways, reception and waiting rooms, and all that goes to make shopping attractive to the fair sex. On the east side of the bulld- ing there are two large passenger elevators giving ready access to any and every de- partment. Hard wood is the finish every- where, and electric lights are used in lavish profusion. A huge air well cuts through each floor above the first, so that it will be impossible for the rooms ever to become stuffy or hot at any season of the year. When a Star reporter made a tour through the new Palais Royal yesterday morning everything seemed to be in the direst con- fusion, but Mr. Kent, the manager of the advertising department, was probably right when he said that by Monday morning ev- erything would be ready for the hosts of visitors who are expected to throng the new building. Already it was easily possible to ee how the various departments were to be arranged, and the result was complete ad- miration for the head which had designed so great an affair in such a satisfactory manner. On Monday visitors will be able to see for themselves how admirably all ar- rangements have been made for thelr com. fort and for the suitable display of goods. For the benefit of those who are unable to call during the day Mr. Lisner intends to keep the store open from 7:30 to 10 o'clock Monday evening, when an elaborate electric display will be presented. No sales will be made on that occasion, which is really in- tended to take more the attributes of an evening reception. It may be of interest to intending visitors to have at least a rough diagram of the sys- tem by which all the different departments e arranged, The huge basement will con- tain the departments of house furnishing goods and bric-a-brac and oriental goods. The stock of Turkish rugs is a large one and the portion of the basement given up to it is fitted up in oriental style. One large corner is given up to Japanese curios, al though there is another department’ for smaller wares of this same class on the floor above. In the basement are also dis- played lamps, clocks, sewing machines and confectionery. In the northeast corner of the basement fs the cashier's office, to which all cash sales will be promptly reported. Here there is an elaborate system of pneu. matic tubes leading to and from all portions of the bullding. Four miles of brass tubing were necessary for this purpose. There are seventy-three stations throughout the butld- ing and fifty-six receiving tubes, all under electrical control. It will require 1,800,000 cuble feet of air per hour to maintain the system, and this of itself will furnish a thorough means of ventilation. ‘Ten cashiers will be required to attend this branch of the work. In the rear ts the shipping depart- ment and the cloak room for the 600 clerks. All goods are received at an entrance on Mith street and sent over a track in the basement to the freight elevator and thence carried to the goods receiving room on the fourth floor. In the engine room in the basement is all the machinery for the ele- vators, pneumatic system and electric ligh ing. There are two engines, one of sevent five and one of 100 horse power: two 800- Nght dynamos, sixty-five are lights and 1,000 Incandescent lights throughout the building, and four eighty horse power bo! ers, An artesian well furntshes 20,000 gal- lons of water a day, and this will be used for all purposes, inciuding the supply for a handsome marble fountain on the first floor. ‘On the first or main floor are the depar: ments of laces, gloves, ribbons, iudi~s’ neck- wear, handkerchiefs, men’s furalshings,um. brellas, jewelry, silver and plated ware, hosiery, merino ‘underwear. perfumery and tollet articles, leather zoods, buttons and trimmings, stationery and enzraving, books, cutlery, notions, shoes and Japanese goods. In the northwest corner, above the level of the floor and inclosed Dy curtains. is the manteure department with an expert in charge. Below is an office of information, where complaints may be made, and where lost and found articles will be stored. Halt way up the stairs to the second floor t= the ladies’ reception and waiting room. This is on_a balcony overlooking the main floor, j and handsomely furnished in eak. Lead- | ing off from it is a large tile finished toilet | oom for the use of ladies, | maapuse’ eeaeeaeee are, Septal Rew ens, i dry goods, and millinery. In the corner is Here, us everywhere else, heel all hard wood, quartered . yor cherry. ‘The two dark Toms, on the frst and second flovrs, are the only dark spots in all the building, The millinery departments on the south side of this floor are said to have the finest fittings of any establishment of “he scrt anywhere. | The third floor is to be devoted to ladies Pon underwear, corsets, cloaks, sults and ‘urs, boys’ clothing and infants’ wear. On the south side are the spacious offices for Mr. Lisner and his various assistants. Mr. Lisner’s own private office is in the cor. ner, and is fitted up in quartered oak. Ad- ining is the room for the boox- ‘eepers, mail, ordering and auditing de- the superinten le the fittings are display their goods, and a huze stock roem, In addition to these there is one large room which is to be used as a lunch room for the clerks, with a kitchen adjoining. A girl will be in charge of this, ani tea, coffee and nourishing dishes will be obtamable by the plate at all times. The toilet the clerks are also on this floor. The attic which runs over the entire building is to be used for storage purposes. The new butlding was started August 10, 182. Mr. Harvey Page was the architect, and the building was constructed under the superintendency of Mr. Weorge W. Corbett. All the interior work was designed by Mr. E. Blout. The building would seem to be as complete as it certainly is spacious and imposing, and reflects the greatest credit upon the enterprise and ability of the man Who in sixteen years has been alle to move from such Posmeuich smail beginnings 10 such a great narrative of a business evo- trite saying “There is always room at the top” was never better illus- trated than in the life of Mr. A. Lisner, who came here when it seemed suicidal to ‘start any business, even of the smallest kind. Born in Meiningen, a small German town, ago, he received an ac- found employment in the firm of Altman & Co. in New York, where he soon became a buyer. In October, 1877, a small store, of which Mr. Lisner was manager, was opened on the corner of 12th street and Pennsyl- vania avenue. It was soon evident that, in spite of the adverse cond'tion of trade, the “Palais Royal” had come to stay. At that time Washington was, so far as business was concerned, still comparatively in its in- fancy. Many people did their shopping in New York and Baltimore, while many of those who patronized the loca! stores were conservative, and looked with disfavor on new enterprises, preferring to buy where their mothers had gone before them. But to determined natures obstacles act as in- centives, and so it was in this case; though in order to succeed Mr. Lisner was obliged to work in the capacity of bookkeeper, buyer, show-dresser, salesmar and man- ager. In a short time gratifying results came to reward him. People soon found out that the bargains promised were gen- uine bargains, and to realize that they were enabled to buy choice goods at bottom prices, because they were dealing with a man who was content with small profits and many sales, instead of few sales with enormous profits. And just here is one of the secrets of the marvelous growth of this establishment; for it is nothing short of wonderful that by the unaided efforts of one man, whose sole capital was indom- itable grit and brains, a small store, em- ploying seven hands and consisting of six departments, shouid in fifteen short years develop into a mammoth business, whose fifty ous departments give work to about 600 le. It is hard to mention all the quall- ties which a man able to build up a business like this possesses, but among them is the power to gain the liking and respect of his employes by justness, gener- gsity and quick appreciation of merit. Every one in his employment recognizes the fact that Mr. Lisner is not only an em- ployer, but a friend. He inaugurated early closing in the summer, and is now the first to provide stationary seats behind the coun- ters for his clerks, and by other number- less but unostentatious acts of kindness has so endeared himself to his employes that it is a matter of comment among the clerks that of the few who leave the P. R. to work at any other place most of them ask to be taken back. Mr. Lisner has great power of concen- tration, wonderful financial and executive ability, and, above all, the sterling integ- makes a man’s word as good as From the Philadelphia Times. A woman may be as beautiful as Helen of ‘Troy and as alluring as the serpent of the Nile, yet if she be not cheerful she is al- together incapable of winning and keeping affection after it is won. This old world is on the lookout for all that is bright and gay. There is so much of sorrow lurking in every corner that we want to turn our backs upon it whenever we can; therefore, 4 woman to be appreciated in’ home and social life must be like a ray of sunshine rather than a cloud, no matter how beau- tiful that cloud may’ be. We women are so apt to be depressed by rainy days and other outside influences tnat really should not have the power to dampen the tone of our spirits. Suppose the weather is gloomy and we get yp feel- ing certain that we are in for a very se- vere case of the blues. Now if we have a mind we can fight off those cerulean hor- rors and make ourselves and every one about us feel better and brighter, instead of gloomy and depressed. Many a woman has been heard to say: “I have the blues dreadfully today, and yet I don’t know what for, I'm sure.” Now, in cases such as these, it is a positive sin to let gloom settle down over our spirits when a little energy will dispel it. There are many real causes for downheartedness, ill health, the loss of friends, and the nu- merous trials that come into every life, and which are heart sorrows that are not talked of openly. Yet even these can be lived down, and we can cultivate a seeming cheerfulness that after a time loses its arti- ficiality and brings with it a tendency to look on the bright rather than the dark side of life. The optimist is popular; there- fore, encourage a spirit of cheerfulness, for with it all ills grow less and every burden becomes easier to bear. An Agate Bridge. It is reported from Denver that a natural bridge formed by a tree of agatized wood, spanning a ca: forty-five feet wide, has been found at Chaleedony Park in Arizona. It is supposed that the tree had at some re- mote time fallen, when it became imbedded in the stit of some great inland sea or mighty water overfiow. The silt became in time ‘sandstone, and the wood gradually passed through the stages of mineralization, until it is now a wonderful tree of solid agate. Again, in after years, water has washed and eaten away the sandstone until a canon forty-five feet in width has been formed, the flintlike substances of the agat- ized wood having resisted the erosion of the water flow. cas for Wa Suggest From Vogue. Miss Snickers—“Are you reviving the in- terest in base ball in the west, Miss Maia- prop?" Miss Malaprop—“Yes; I've even gone so far as to send to Paris for an Umpire founded Chicago is to have a statue for the world’s fair.”” He (of Chicago)—“I never heard that be- fore. Where will it be placed?” She—“Out in Lake Michigan; that’s where he jumpea when he saw what he'd done.” @ sample room where traveling men can | rooms for | PRIBYLOV’S QUEST. ‘The Discovery of the Breeding Haunts of the Fur-Bearing Seals. From the Chicago Herald. “Now that the Bering sea commission has concluded its labors, and, singular to say, both England and the United States claim to have come out best in the decisions, tt might be interesting to narrate the his- tory of the discovery of the seal islands,” remarked A. C. Caperton, agent for a large ‘New York house which deals in sealskin goods. Mr. Gotham clerk who is making the sale of a fine sacque to some wealthy woman. “For the lover of true romance there is more than an international interest in Bering sea question,” continued Mr. erton. “It was only about the close of the revolutionary war that the seal were discovered by civilized man, and discovery is as full of romance as | €Xpedition of Ponce de Leon in search of the fabled fountain of immortal youth. Be- fore that time the mysterious islands where the fur-bearing seals had their any inquiries on the subject. For a bhun- | dred years Russian keels ploughed the wa- ters of Bering sea and the North Pacific in the Sons the channels around the Aleutian Is- lands swarmed with fur seals, passing north in the spring and south in the fall. No-seal was ever known to stop even for an hour as to where the seals went ashore to breed. It was somewhere in the nofth, they said, but no Aleut had ever moored his little skin canoe on the beach of that mysterious land. For many years Russian vessels plied certain exist in Bering. Old Pribylov was super- sutious as any sallor and believed some truth in the legend. The next he fitted up the little sloop St. George an sailed from Ounelaska out into the foggy northern sea. He passed through great swarms of seals as he safled to the north, but gradually they disappeared, and after sailing all summer over the icy waste of waters, with never a ship or even an island in sight, he returned south again to his win- ter qeartere. As he went back the seals came with him, for they also had a mys- terious hiding place south for the winter. But old Pribylov was chock full of grit. ‘The next spring he followed the seals back north again. He kept this up for three sea- sons, and finally, in 1786, was rewarded by making the joyful discovery of the mys- terious , breeding grounds. For weeks he had been enveloped in a dense fog and was making @ progress so slow that his patience Was severely tried, when suddenly one day in July he heard a vague roaring and rum- bling sound coming through the dense va- por. Old Pribylov danced with glee, for his experienced ear told him that the great roaring came from a seal rookery. through by the sound, he steered the vessel the dense fog and soon ran up against a rocky island that rose like a wall out of the ocean. Along the rocky shore millions of seals were lying as closely together as world’s fair visitors pushing exit gate at the closing hour. “Old Pribylov and his crew shouted Joy, for he had at last found the ous breeding place of the wily fortune was made. He loaded ship with skins and sailed back laska, after leaving a part of guard the secret of his disco his cargo in the nearest Ru fitted out his vessel for north. Before leaving the Possession of it in the name Russia, and named it St. George, Vessel. But the secret was too and the next year, 2787, all his him, and when he started to from Ounalaska a dozen about him and followed his His secret became known islands became common lov's men discovered the ot | St. Paul's, that same summer. | islands are 200 miles from any or mainiand, and are LOW Sitka as the crow Mies, or 1,500 sel. It is dificult to approach and a vessel sometimes lingers f weeks in their vicinity before being find them on account of the dense These islands lie just where the Japan current of the Pacific meets t currents from the Arctic ocean, and the fog of summer and the bit winter. ‘The seal that inhabits waters of the central Pacific in seeks this constant summer on” ——-eo—____ A Young Napoleon From the Pittsburg Dispatch. He is an employe of one of manufacturing irms in the city 1s also @ nephew of tue senior partner. Some time ago he left on Friday evening to stay over Sunday at a summer resort which is quite at fh HH tilt g § elit val 8 i } kf ial HF ti i m i E é He i ® the largest and near here. When be arrived he found, aa he expected, the girls very, very attractive, and late Sunday afternoon decided that he could not tear himseif away on Sunday, so he ielegrapned his immediate boss toe lows: “Do you need me? If not I shail stay.” ‘The telegram was, of course received, but no attention was paid to it, and the sender, thinking something wrong, reported at the office bright and early Monday morning. Finding everything al right, and nothing being said about the telegram, he mentally kicked himself for coming home. For several hours he worked along with poor grace. Finally word was brought to him that his uncle wanted to see him, and, quaking with fear, he obeyed the summons. When he entered the old gentleman's sanctum he was invited to sit down and make himself quite comfortable. After rummaging through some papers which were on his desk uncle dear took from them a piece of yellow paper. Turning around he tooked his nephew straight in the eye and sak “My boy, this telegram w; received by the head of your department Saturday af- ternoon. It reads: "Do you need me? If not I shall stay,” and ts signed with your name. Did you send It? ‘es, uncle,” came the answer meekly. “You did! Then let me tell you, sir,” an@ he atmosphere became suddenly chilled, “that I have been here for over forty years nd they don’t need me.” Trhe telestam was laid down, and the head J of the establishment pickel vp a pen and | began writing. Nephew knew that the tn- terview was over. Just as he was | through the door he heard uncle m “Do they need me? —2oe What the Dog From the Detroit Froe Pros. I huppened one day to be In a Tennessee mountain town when an election was tak= ing place, and there was one fellow who was doing more talking than anybody eise and getting into repeated rows. He was followed «verywhere by shephesd dog, and late in the evening I found him on the edge of town in a most dilapidated condi- | tion, the result of a tight with the wrong Knew. |man. The dog was trying to lead him I said, “what's the matter?” ‘Fightin’,” was bis brief response. | “You look it,” said J, quite fearlessly, for I felt safe under the cizcumstances. That's a good dog you have. Do you want to sell him?” siree,” he replied, brightening up a little. “Here, Carlo,’ he said, and the dog bout and sat up. taeia he put hime through a lot of éifMeult tricks, apparently forgetting all about his ‘own battered condition. “Why,” I exciaime’, “blamed if he @oesn’t know as much as you do The man looked at me ageressively. “More, mister,” he said, “he knows th shut.’ From the Lewiston Journal. One of the feu 4 rortih ned by Silas Holbrook Harps- ‘ell, Starting out from the wharf in a boat with his master the other day the dog noticed that the plug was out of the bottom of the boat and the wate> was com- ing in. After calling attention to the trou- ble he placed his paw over the hole and kept the water out until his master found the plug and replaced it dogs worth having ts ———ee— After a Barge From Vague. Mrs. Youngwife—“How much do you charge for shad?” Fish Dealer—“Fourteen cents a pound, ma’am.” ‘Mrs. Youngwife—“And how much without the bones?”