Evening Star Newspaper, January 13, 1894, Page 20

<0 THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 13, 1894 THE COMING BATTLE. | Corbett and Mitchell to Fight for the Championship. THE CHANCES OF THE TWO MEN. Discussed by Experts who Ought to Know. WHAT THEY HAVi TO SAY) Written for The Evening Star. PON WHOSE BRoOw | will res: the laucels of the world’s cham- pionship in the com- ing fight between James Corbett and Charles Mitchell, typ- ical representatives of American and Eng- lish fistic prowess? ‘This is the all-absorb- ing question among | the spo-ting men of oy <3 at the Bal present “s.0%nt. Be-| fow are presented the opinions of the lead- ers in pugilism, concerning the probabilities | of the battle, and they wiil be found inter-| esting reading. Ex-Champ‘on Sullivan gives a modest and manly word in benalf of the American, but clearly believes it, probable | that Mitchell may outgenera! him. Feter Jackson, who is matched to fight Corbett in | the spring,is very naturally “cx the fence,” | and contents himself with saying simply | that Mitchell will give Cochst a close run for the purse. Billy Madden, discoverer of champions, whose fortune it was to place both Sullivan and Mitchell in the interna- tional pugilistic arena, Billy Edwards, the erstwhile famous boxer ard pugilist, Mike Donovan, himself on» 07 the bes: men that James Corbett. ever stood in a staked ring and the trainet of many famous prize fighters, W. H. Mas- | terson, a noted sporting man of national celebrity and the umpire for Kilrain, in his fight with Sullivan, at Richburg, Miss., in 1889, and the veteran ex-champion, Tom Allen, who, from 1868 to 1876, engaged as a Principal in a number of battles for the championship—each and all have something of interest to contribute on the subject of the approaching battle. W. E. HARDING. Sullivan Compares the Men. It should be a great fight. Corbett is a first-class boxer, very strong. and he will) be in good condition. It is an important consideration, in any contest, to be in con- | dition, and it is my candid op!nion, if I had | paid attention to training, I should have | been the champion yet. Corbett defeated me, or at least I defeated myself: but it is too late in the day to talk about my only defeat in ten years. I must say Corbett is a first-class fighter; he is very active on his feet. You must have good legs and hips as well as strong arms and muscular shoulders, to be a suc- cess In the prize ring, for without active legs, you cannot escape your opponent's leads, neither can you spring in to land a blow when opportunity presents itself. I had no legs when I fought Corbett. I was tied up and he should have defeated me in a few rounds, if he is the wonderful fighter | they claim him to be. What his chances are of winning the coming fight I cannot | say. I am sure he will have his hands full, for he has to meet a man who is tricky and cunning, up to every dodge known in either ‘Queensberry or London prize ring rules, one who can hit harder than Corbett can and who can fight like a demon and not tire quickly. When I fought Mitchell in France, I was in better condition thi when I fought Corbett. I should have defeated Mitchell, but I caught a chill and that af- fected me more than any one could imagine. Mitchell must have improved since he fought me in France. He is in his prime and has not abused himself as much as many suppose. I should judge he will fight at 170 pounds, “which weight will stand to him if the nght fs a long one, and I think | he will give Corbett all he can do to win, for he can hit hard, he is just as clever as Corbett and he has had more experience in prize-ring matters. I do not think the bet- ting should be any better than even money. ‘Those who are betting 2 to 1 that Corbett will win are risking big odds. Sporting men were betting 4 to 1 that I would defeat Corbett, but there was no sense in such bet- ting, for accidents are always liable to hap- pen in a glove fight. An arm may be sprained or broken, sickness may attack a boxer in the ring, and no matter how great a boxer he might be he would have to give up or be beaten. I am. not going to say whether Corbett will w‘a or Mitchell will | defeat Corbett, but my sympathy is nat- Orally with Corbett, because he is an Amer- tean. I am sure the fight will be a close | one, no matter who wins, and the victor will not have much to boast about. Billy Madden Says Corbett. What do I think of the Mitchell and Cor- bett fight? I think Corbett will certainly | win and that he is a two-to-one, yes, a| three-to-one shot. He has the advantage in height, weight, youth, length of reach and he is a elever boxer and light as a cricket | } | | on his feet. He has a good left hand and | he knows how and when to use it. Many | people think he cannot hit; well, he can hit | hard enough for all practical purposes and he possesses good judgment. Mitchell, of fight, but he would do bet- ng to London prize-ring y rules, for the for- | n know about Mitchell's ualities than I. I found him in gland. when I went over to find it is prize-ring his. hell made when he rica, leary and the: ' van. I think Mitchell wa better fighter | at that time than he is now. He was younger, could hit harder and his hands Were not broken. as they are now. Even if Mitchell's hands were good, I do not think he could defeat Corbett; but still 1| may be mistaken. I did not’ think Bob Fitzsimmons could defeat Peter Maher or Ed defeat Joe Goddard, 1 was} | Mitchell is just the si I think the Corbett-Mitchell fight will be a hot one while it lasts, and, while I am going to back Corbett to win, I expect Mitchell will fight from start to finish like a gladiator, for there fs no denying that he can fight; but he is handicapped in more ways than one, and his hands may give oui. Trainer Donovan's Forecast. I regard Corbett as the greatest pugilist the world has ever seeen in my time. I know him “like a book; for when he was a bank clerk in San Francisco and boxing instructor in the Olympic Club my friends in that city wrote me about him. After he boxed with Kilrain in the Southern Ath- letic Club in New Orleans my friend, Pat Kendrick, wrote me that Corbett. was a first-class boxer, but that he lacked severa! points necessary to make him a champion. On Corbett’s arrival in New York, [ intro- duced him to the members of thé New York Athletic Club and showed him several wrin- | kles in boxing. I was aiso his adviser when he was matched to tight John L. ivan. When I seconded Kilirain with ley Mitchell, when Kilrain was matched to fight Sullivan for $10,000 a side and the championship of the world, I studied Sulli- van's style and noted his weak points, so fought Sullivan in the Olympic Club, New Orleans, for $45,000, the largest stake ever battled for. Corbett did not use me kindly afterward, although I stood in his corner when he was facing a man who was looked upon as invincible, and it was by my in- structions he fought and won. Since that time there has been a flag of truce between us, but that does noi inter- fere with my opinion of Corbett as a fight- er. I think he should defeat Mitchell as easily as he did Sullivan. Mitchell,of course, will be in splendid shape. He is,a sturdy and aggressive boxer, and that he can hit hard there is no denying. He. is thoroughly game, for his contest with Sullivan in France proved that he was not only game, but a stayer. Corbett has every advantage over Mitchell. and. besides, he is a better boxer. [ think Corbett is today the clever- est boxer living. ‘The fight will be a more protracted strug- gle than many suppose. If Corbett forces the fighting, it will not last over tifteen rounds, but if he fights on the cefensive and waits for Mitchell to lead, trusting to counter him heavily,*the fight may last for two hours. If it is a short fight, science will have won the day. if it is a long one, stamina will w Corbett has proved that he can stay; his sixty-one rounds with Peter Jackson proved it; while Mitchell's long battle with Sullivan at Apremont, France, proved he could tixht for nours. I expect Corbett will win, end I nave in- ructed my friends to bet on him. Billy Edwards Favors the Champion. Although I never saw Jim Corbett tight, I ) have seen him box, and feel that he should defeat Charley Mitchell. 1 think he is one of the cleverest big men since Ned O'Bald- win and Joe Wormaid's time. Few of our present sporting men ever saw Wormald and ©'Baldwin. Mitchell has now been fighting over eleven years. I think it is ten years since he won the boxing champion- ship of England and was brought to this country by Billy Madden. He was a clever boxer, and an aggressive fighter, in 1883 and 1834, but it is a «uestion -wh..her he can fight at the present time as ne covkd then. I supposed I court ti;sht forever, but I made a mistake. rhe onlv mistake | ever made in my prize-ring career wus meetin Mitchell, who was taller, heavier, and pos- sessed twice my strength. Mitchell is one of the new school of boxers, he is very clev- er, and he will Zive rhett trouble to defeat him than Suili did, and the fight will be a better one. § think the jien will fight about one hour. You know, if beth men are in earnest, they ex -Io plenty of fighting an.t end the contest in that time. Corbett shold win levyond a doubt, tor he is taller and heavier than his rival and has a longer reach. Height and weight, of Mike ponusan. course, make a considerable difference. in men fighting, though some claim that weight cuts no figure when big men con- tend, but length of reach does, and Corbett, having this great advan<a: backed up with good driving power he should win. Tom Allen for Mitchell. Corbett is a very clever boxer, but I do not think him an aggressive pugilist. se and build for a champion. He can hit hard, has splendid legs and grand physical development. Mitch- ell is now matured. When he fought Sul- livan in France, he only weighed 165 pouads, while in the coming contest he will at least have ten pounds more weight, and he is nearly six years older. Mitchell knows more about fighting than Corbett; he can hit harder, while he knows every foot of the ring, and how to fight, and! where to land. Any first-class middi weight, in my opinion, could have defeated Sullivan fh half the time that Corbett did. Corbett will have to show up to better ad- vantage at Jacksonville in Januar than he did when he met Sullivan at New Or- leans. The talk about Corbett he vantage in height, weight and length of reach amounts to nothing; Jem Mace de feated Sam Hurst. ir height and a over two hundred Tom S: Bill Perry, the “Tipton was sev inches taller, ha®a | each than ers and was fully two stone heavier, ers also stood off John (. Heenan, who was over forty pounds heavier and severe! inch- es taller, and had the advantage in reech and science. Heenan was as clever 4 scientific a boxer as Copbett BS could not box nor even mak set-to with gloves. What Umpire Masterson Thinks, Corbett is not ng to meet a pugilist who has abused hiinself, but a sturdy glad- lator, a man who possesses pluck, a first- class ring general, who is thoroughly post- ed in fighting according to any rules, and |has had far more experience in the prize | ring than Corbett, and’ who game from A to Z.” Corbett, it must be admitted, has the advantage in height, weight and length of reach. There is no doubt about his stamina, for his protracted battle of sixty-one rounds, Queensberry rules, in San Francisco, clearly proved he could stay. while his courage can- not be questioned. In regard to science, neither has any advantage. Corbett is a skillful boxer, so is Mitchell. I think they are the two most scientific boxers in the world. I backed Corbett at 4 to 1 when he fought John L. Sullivan, because I was aware Sullivan's day had gone by. I did not think he stood the ghost of a show to defeat Corbett. Mitchell is the greatest prize fighter in the world according to London rules, and if the latter, instead of Queensberry rules, were to govern the coming contest, I should not hesitate to back Mitchell. If he is in “knows the first-class condition, my friends and myself | will back him, because I have an idea he | will be a surprise party if Corbett is not on { e. tee A Growing lmprovement. From Puck. : ‘Old Pople! e used t dresses much bet- Felton.—“Yes: his boys are now large enough for him to wear their cast-off | clothes.” who was over six feet | 5 | a ecording to { notable of many notable dinings in Zion Settlement sixty years ago was Aunt Betsy's quilting. Aunt Betsy was the best housekeeper in all the neighborhood. sne was a stately lady, who had been a widow for many years, yet had unmarried sons and daughters who kept a social at- mosphere about her. An entertainment at her house was never an ordinary affair. Her farm was rich, her orchards large, and every variety of farm products stood upon her pantry shelves. Her wheat loaf Was the best of the neighborhood; her tur- Keys were the largest and the fattest ‘of their kind; her rice, the product of her own farm, had been declared again and again to be superior to anything of the sort this side the swamps of South Carolina, from which state Aunt Betsy had emigrated when a young wife into the wilésraess of Tennessee. Her apples, jellies, preserved fruits were the envy of her neighbors. Zion Settlement was a Presbyterian neighborhood, and made up largely of kins- People; therefore, invitations were not Umited. The entire neighborhood was con- sidered invited on the simple announce- ment of the quilting. ~ On this particular occasion, Dr. Tyndale, the old pastor, and young Mr. Fairchild, who had been recently cailed to assist him, arrived quite early, yet found themselves Preceded by a goodly company. The mar- ried men sat upon the long piazza in front of Aunt Betsy's well-built, hewed-log farm house. The two preachers and the elders naturally fell into one group; the others slightly apart. The young men and the boys appropriated the shade of the oaks which stood in the yard, the girls and the mothers busily plied needle and thread over the box quilt which was attached to four wooden frames, set up on the backs of four chairs, in the center of the long sitting room. A ripple of talk like the hum of bees ran through the group. On the piazza, the crops, the improve- ments and theology were discussed; the clearings and the sicknesses were chatted about, until Dr. Mayfield, the neighborhood physician, was craftily drawn by some of the young men into reminiscences of his old home in South Carolina and of the rev- olutionary war, The doctor and the old pastor had borne honorable part in that. struggle. They had suffered taunts and iil- treatment from tory and British; had been held prisoners at part in the battle of King’s Mountain. ‘The doctor possessed a fund of army anec- dotes of which his neighbors never grew weary. The boys under the trees enjoyed pranks and fun, and slyly telegraphed messages to the girls through the open windows, sat- isfled with even this mode of communice- tion, as they could do no better. Around the box-quilt the chatter of voices discussed weavings,quiltings, marriages and sickness, gardens and poultry, and—the young minister. Mr. Fairchild had recent- ly arrived, in obedience to a “call,” and was unmarried: hence the girls felt at lib- erty to take part in this discussion. The mothers expressed the opinion that Dr. Tyndale and the elders had been fortunate in their selection. Aunt Betsy, who was good authority on a sermon as well ona good dinner, declared she had never heard anything better than Mr. Fairchild’s ser- mons, in any Presbyterian synod of South Carolina; and Cousin Polly Skipworth, es- pecially commended his-“Talks to the Young Folks. Rose Madden, the belle of the neighbor- hood, archly broke in with the information, “he had found the road over to Dr. May- field's,” directing the point of her needle and a meaning glance to the doctor's daughter Jean, who sat at the farther end of the quilting line. The suddenness of the thrust caused Jean to quicken her fingers over the line she was quilting, but re- mained silent. “Why not?” responded sev- eral voices, who came to Jean’s rescue, ‘it would be a pretty state of things if the young minister was not allowed to visit in | his congregation.” “True,” said.Rose, with the slightest tone of malice in her voice, “but they do say that his horse is in the habit of walking out of Dr. syndale’s stable, and is often found ai the back of Dr. Mayfield’s woods, two miles o*f.” . ll tell you what's the matter,” said sharp, cunning, black-eyed Rebecca Wither- spoon, “that horse didn’t stop in Mr. Mad- den’s front lot, as he ought to have done, | on his way to Dr. Mayfield’s woods!” ‘There was an explosure of laughter about the quilting frames. Prompdy at 12 o'clock dinner was an- nounced. And such a dinn it was after- ward confidently asserted, “no such dinner ever before had been spread in Zion Set- ) ement Aunt Peggy solemnly declared ) that “ic banged’ anything she had ever | seen. Late in the afternoon the box quilt was nished. ‘The tall wooden clock that stood in the corner of the sitting room noiselessly turn- ed about its hands, and the young, smiling face that the old clock maker had painted on the dial seemed to grow happier as the |day grew longer. But a still older time- | keeper on the outside had his more posi- tive way of marking the passing day. The sun had dropped into the tree tops, the quilt was clipped out of the frames and declared to be satisfactory in every | respect. The heads of families prepared | to go home. There was bustling and run- ning about, horses were saddled and gates were opened. The two ministers, after | | her hospitable entertainment, took their departure; but there was a_ perceptible ; flutter of excitement among the young | people that indicated there was something | still to come. Smiles and significant tab- leaux were interchanged. The meaning secon came out. Aunt Betsy, in reward for their nimble fingers and the extra “stitching in” of her own name into the quilt, had invited the girls to stay and have a “candy-pulling” after night; the boys, of course, were necessary to see the girls home, therefore were expected to remain. Sixty years ago manners were simple, enjoyment real, and coming pleasure sweet and fresh as the rosebud that rose-fashion breathed itself into the air. Nimrod Mayfield whispered to John Jones, son of one of the deacons, to mount hi: 'mare “Wildfire,” ride over to Jack Will- iams—five miles “and tell Jack of the frolic.” ‘Be sure,” he said, in a low mean- ing whisper, “ tell him to_ bring | his ‘fiddle,’ but to be very quiet about it or the jig will be up.” Jack was the neigh- borhood minstrel, and passionately fond of dancing. So, confidentially instructed, the willing nger left to carry out his instrue- $ messe! tions. In this rural Presbyterian neighborhood dancing was held to be a veritable inven- tion of the evil one. John Calvin exer- cised here his lawyer function as well as his priestly office. Indictments, though not so sharp as those he formulated against ervetus, continued to issue from his dead hand. The criminality of dancing, in this particular section, was appalling. Yet, the sin was ever risked for the pleasure by he girls and boys of Zion Settlement. A fitting opportunity and the smallest amount of persuasion upset all scrupies, The spice of danger added ty the taste of the enjoy- ment. To snatch from under the very nod of Calvin the forbidden fruit was an addi- tional attraction. Choir meetings were fa- vorite places to do this, as these meetings were held from house to house around the neighborhood. After Saturday night's sing- ing class had rehearsed Sunday music and | the older members of the house had dropped out of the singing bee into their beds and left Sabbath melodies in charge of the younger members, the most natural thing | in the world was to change from sacred to | secular music. The violin, next to the gun | and dog, in every new-settled country, was | indispensable, therefore, to dance a few sets was a temptation to youthful blood not to be resisted. ‘ expressing warm thanks to Aunt Betsy for | Nwnirten exciusiveny yor” Brenng Siar fe ad ee ‘The outiook for a ance after the camiy- Many setidea MUSE Prypytous, auut bey WAS wo Peguiar mM wer avis us We sun and muon. Aine o'clock uever IounU her out Of ved. Moreover, sue Was a good sieeper. dev snore meant SKep sv UaWak- aug lat Lue oid rooster percacd unuer wer walduW UUErsioOd i, auu siepl Woo. Mer suvlh WMs im ine extreme ena ui the house, Separated by @ Nali anu an apartment ici sue rest of (he buudilg. Nimrod, lor a cou- aiuerauoh, had secured the services of te Walling buy, Louy, a young negro, who aad in charge Ue horses of tne guesis on ts partculur night, to waten at ner door, ana ‘o bring hun word when she fast asleep. fhe other servanis neep the secret, proviaed they were aliowed Co see the dance. Watches were set up in all dangerous directions. Instant snforma- don was to be conveyea to Nimrod it thing went wrong or looked susp: fverybody was ready for the run. Webster duly arrivea with nis tiddie, and Jonn Jones had not forgotten two stop at home and bring his flute. Arter the brown Sugar had bubvled and boiled in whe creat brass kettle, and laughingly had been pull- ed lke young affections, in various lengtns and various degrees of whiteness, games were enjoyed. As it neared Aunt lictsy’s bedtime she had been asked most innocent- ly to listen to the music Jack Webster had been learning from notes sent him by a Charleston triend. The mere mention ot South Carolina was sure to win her favor. Jack’s violin did its best; put promptly at 9 o'clock Aunt Betsy retired. With equal prompiness the biack boy, ‘Toby, went on watch. Nimrod was in his jolliest: mood; told his wittiest anecdotes, and shied in his brightest remarks. Fate seemed to favor, when it was ascertained through Toby that Aunt Betsy was actually snor- ing. Nimrod urged Jack Webster to call for dancers. Jack hesitated, although he had come expressly for this purpose, Bie tell = fens is, Nimrod, I feel that e are going to be caught tonight, and w: had better be cautious.” ey “Fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Nimrod. “I'll take all the consequences. Go ahead! Re- becca Witherspoon and I will lead cff.” And to make good his word they took their places on the floor. This was too much for Jack’s doubt, so he drew his bow energetically across the violin, and started an old Virginia reel. The contagion spread, and the floor was soon filled with dancers, “Youth and morn chased the hours with flying feet.” Nimrod, as he wheeled through the twelfth set, whispered to his partner: “What do you think Squire Dickey, the parsot watch dog, would say if he knew what was going on here?” “Remember the old adage,” was the quick rejoinder; ‘speak of a certain person and he always ap- pears!” “Gabriel's horn wouldn't wake the old fox at this hour,” confidently responded Nimrod. From time to time it was announced that Aunt Betsy was soundly snoring; even the old rooster in the tree by her window scem- ed to be overcome with slumber, for he omitted the opportunity to crow at mid- night. All seemed well, when’ suddenly a shadow appeared at the window and beck- oned to Nimrod, who led his partner to a seat, and went out. Toby informed him that he heard the sound of horses’ feet along the road, and communicated the fur- ther fact that Squire Dickey had passe? by on his way to town that morning, and had not heen seen to return. Nimrod chen! recalled the fact he had forgotten that this justice of the peace and regulator of the young folks of Zion had set for trial that very day a knotty road case, in conjunction with another magisterial brother, and, rus- sibly belated, he was now on his nome- ward journey. Aunt Betsy's honse sat hack from the road, but it was’ highly probabie see what was going on. Nimrod sugzested his fear to Toby. “Yes, massa,” said the boy, “I knows him; that’s jest what he'll do.” Sure enough, they both heard the outer gate gently opening. Somebody was approaching. Word was conveyed at once} to the party inside; the music ceased end} the candles were extinguished. Nimrod | listened, and soon recognized the short trot | of the squire’s favorite riding animal, well) known throughout the neighborhood. | Squire Dickey had seen the light in Aunt! Betsy's windows, knew that the quilting was on hand, but it was late in the night) and the faint sound of the violin excited| his suspicions. The disappear: e of the! lights convinced him that there was some- thing wrong. However, to clinch the mat-| ter, he rode down through the front lot to| the yard gate of the house. horses of! the young folks were hitched to the fence. ! They recognized the fact of the arrival of | another horse by a general snort. ‘The squire knew now that every boy in wh house was aware of his presence. So he simply consulted the hands of his great silver watch, that kept justice time in the court room and good habits in the neigh- borhood. ‘The hands pointed to 2 p.m. | “Well! Well!” he apostrophised. ure | enough! a dance had been going on at Aunt Betsy's.” To make sure of the fact, he ex- npined the line of horses. ‘There was “Wildfire,” Nimrod Mayfield’s mare; next, | Deacon Jones’ sorrel; then Jack Webster's black mare. There could be no doubt of the correctness of his inferences, So, he turned about, rode back, closed the outer gate of the premises with less caution than he had entered, and proceeded on his home- ward journey. here!’ said Jack Webster to Nimrod, as the heavy latch of the gate closed and came down with a snap into the socket, “1 told you so, Nim. Old Trot is gone—it’s all out. There will be the dickens to pay.” “The sooner we get hom muttered Deacon Jones’ boy, “the better.” This opin- ion evidently was general. Whispered conferences took place, sad- @ling was done in haste, gates gently open- ed and shut, then with the assurance that Aunt Betsy was still asleep, the young folks separated for their homes. Next day it was mysteriously noised about that something dreadful had happen- ed. it was noticed that the young people were strangely silent. Not a word did they have to say about the candy pulling, and nobody seemed to know precisely when they reached home. At last the frightful truth came out: “The biggest dance of the sea- son had taken place at Aunt Betsy’s, not- withstanding the new minister and Dr. Tyndale had spent the day there. It was | simply awful—awful—to know that such an} occurrence should take place in a Christian neighborhood; something must be done. The session of the church ought to investi- te the matte! "sych was the general talk of the mothers, party must be exposed. No matter who might prove to be the guilty one, it was the unanimous demand that an example must be made of the individual who had brought so much scandal upon the neighborhood. So th» session was convened at the Brick Church, and the young people assembled | at Watts Madden's for trial. Watts lived on a hill a quarter of a mile| distant, in front of the Brick Church. A day of doom could not have been more solemn. Like so many criminals, the boys were imprisoned in one end of the house, and the girls in the other. Weeping, loud lamentations and hysterics prevailed in the girls’ room. A vague, indefinable sense of something terrible about to happen over- shadowed both parties. Nimrod Mayfield was unusually pale and flustered, Jack ‘*I DID, SIR.’’ A DEAD SILEN leye and of Aunt Betsy in particular. The guilty | > Webster sullen and defiant. Jack was older than the others, a man in size, yet he had just entered his twentieth year, and had served six months against the Florida Indians, and brought back considerable fame for his courage. He walked the floor of Mr. Madden's east room, evidently medi- tating some forcible way out of the dif- culty. When the session was duly assembled in the church, Cousin Joshua Witherspoon, a short, rotund, mild-faced, elderiy man,was deputed to bring down the culprits, one by one, from the house to the church, for ex- amination. ‘The trial commenced with the boys; Nim- rod Mayfield headed the list. Nimrod was more nervous than usual as he foliowed Cousin Joshua to the place of doom. On arriving at the church he found the entire session assembled, his father among them, and Dr. Tyndale at theif head. The ola preacher, always grave and dignified, look- ed more grave than usual. He had a sad, perplexed expression in nis eyes. After directing Nimrod to stand and an- swer the questions as they were propound- ed, he inquired: “Nimrod, were you present at your Aunt Betsy’s on the night of the candy pulling?” “Yes, sir.” “Who else were there?” with a ner- this is a said the old man, vous twist, “Nimrod, be careful, very serious matter.” es, sir, it feels so, but Cousin Rebecca Witherspoon and I just looked on.” ‘imrod, my son, truth is a jewel.” Yes—yes, sir, now that I think about it— I did dance some.” “Yes! Yes!” said the doctor, with evident relief. ‘Tell us all about it.” “Well, sir, we made candy until we got tired; then Bill Madden told some ghost stories. We played ‘blind man’s buff’ and ‘thimble.’ After this Jack Webster got out his fiddle and played for Aunt Betsy, “oft in the Stilly Night,” ‘O’ Lang Syne,” and some new tunes. Then Aunt Betsy went to bed, and Jack proposed we should all have a dance. Two or three partners took their places on the floor. About this time some one said Squire Dickey was coming down the road. We biew out the candles and then went home.” “What time of night was this,” contin- ued his questioner. “It was early,” replied Nimrod. “farly?7—in the night or early in the morning?” asked the preacher. “Squire Dickey says 1! o'clock—2 o'clock!” repeated Dr. .» “when he passed your Aunt Betsy’s—two hours gone into Sunday. You were breaking the Lora’s day, as well as dancing.” don’t know exactly what time it was,” said Nimrod, “but we had not danced long.” “My son, long or short, you Know very well it was wrong. You know, too, that there is a place of fire and brimstone for the wicked. Dancing and Sabbath breaking lead to that doleful abode. Better suffer here than there.” “Yes, sir,” said Nimrod, very humbly, “I know it, but forgiveness comes in when you ask it, don’t it?” “So it does!” said Dr. Tyndale, emphat- ically—“‘so it does!” A pause took place “I ask pardon, and promise to do better hereafter,” mumbled Nimrod. A still long- er pause. “Brethren,” said the old preacher, ad- dressing the session, “a word of reproof and exhortation, I think, will be sufficient. Cous- in Joshua, take him back and bring down Jack Webster.” ck Webster was arraigned. ack, were you at the candy pulling?” “ss said Jaek. Cousin Sally led the first set.” “Who played the violin?” did, sir.” A dead silence for some mo- ments. ‘ Then vou plaved on into Sunday,” said Dr. Tyndale, sadly. “I don’t know what time it was. Squire Diekev knows.” “Did you see Squire Dickey?” “No. sir: but he was there all the same.” “Are you willing to acknowledge it was imrod and that he would ride down to the house to| wrong and give us your pledge, Jack, not to do so again?” ‘No, sir. I shall dance whenever 1 get a chance.” The doctor straightened up in his chair. Another awkward pause followed. “Jack, you may return to Mr. Madden's.” Jack siowly staiked out of the church. The building was surrounded by a grave- ard, and Jack stood a moment on the vel waik hesitatingiy, as if he had half n intention to return and say something, but his eyes wandered over the white tomb- stones, and he went out. Cousin Joshua, on his way for another witness, followed. Jack trudged ahead, evi- dently for the purpose of being overtaken. Ge was a muscular fellow, and his cold blue ‘} ad an immovable look in it. He put himself squarely across the path of the messenger of the session and blurted out: ‘Cousin Joshua, what are you going to do wit those girls up at Mr. Madden's? They erying and going on at a dreadful rate. hey are scared to death. They are not to blame. We asked them to dance, and you know it is In the blood of young folks to dance, anvhow. It is a blame shame to treat them so, and I want to tell you right now, plainly, you are not going to take them before the session, if I can help it. You n punish me, if you want to, but I'll not stand by and see them imposed upon. it was very clear in those steel-blue eyes Jack meant all he had said. Cousin Joshua Was not exactly prepared either to answer or for action. A parley sugg the ecclesiastic constable. he said, patronizingly, without noticing the threat, “let's talk about it. Now, what would you do about the whole matter?” “Do! Do about it?” ejaculated Jack. “I'll tell you what I would do. I would stop it. 1f I was in your place, I would take Cousin Saily, that is crying her eves out up there, and would go home. Thats what L.would "* said Jack, vehementiy. “It’s a greater sin to keep those girls sobbing and crying, than for them to dance a little when they are asked.” The growing fluency of Jack and the steel-blue eves won the day. Jack was, after all, a favorite, and the neighbor- hood’s pride. A trial of strength with him, t unseemly a thing should occur, would leave the victory in his hands. Se- ly, too, Cor Joshua was much of ck’s opinion. “Well, bo: he said, “I will consult the session,” and turned to- ward the church. Jack, with quicker step, hastened to Mr. Madden’s, and informed the > “Good!” said a boy, in his shirt “You didn’t ask anybody's par- * All put on an air of triumph save Nimrod, 10 Was, evidently, dejected. What's the matter with you, Nimrod, anyhor said Jack, “You look as if your last friend was dead.” othin’,”” responded Nimrod. ‘es, there is! you needn't say that, Nim: you had just as well tell it; we'll find it out.” Well, if I must tell,” said the downcast y. bracing up for an effort, “I told them at the church that I didn’t dance any.” “Great Scott! what a lie,”uttered a chorus of voices. “Weil, I know it was,” continued Nimrod, clearing his throat, ‘but it seemed so much like the day of judgment, down there, 1 didn't know what else to say.” “Well! at the day of judgment, the ‘ola boy” will get you for that whopper, sure!” continued the chorus. “I'll bet he told on all of us!” interjected the boy in the corner. “No, I didn't,” replied Nimrod, ready to get out at any loop-hole. “Well, I did,” said Jack, “I told them that we all danced. I wa’nt going to tell a lie about it.” “But you didn’t give names,” continued the inte-rogatcr, > s —TWENTY- PAGES. “It is all one and the same thing,” said Jack. “Not by a long shot,’ persisted the corner boy, “there's a heap of difference. The one is a general way of saying nothin’—the other is mean.” Nimrod was still more un- comfortable, but silent. The intelligence of Jack's interference quickly found it’s way to the other end of the house. The crying and hysterics at once abated. “That's just like Jack Web- ster!” said Polly Skipworth,“he ain't afraid of the whole session.” “Nor of dancing, either,” said Sally With- erspoon, through he> tears. “I don’t be- lieve it is wrong, anyhow. There is plenty of dancing in the Bible. My mother said she danced when she was a girl.” Now, what took place in the church when Elder Witherspoon returned was never known; but, after an hour’s delay, Cousin Joshua appeared with a smiling face,mount- ed on cy,” calied for his daughter Sally, told the rest of the young folks that they were at libexty to go home. Every- body save Nimrod was happy. He was heard to say, “By gum! I'll get even with — Dickey, if it takes me the balance of v life.” Jack Webster, next Sunday, sat, as usual, in the choir, His voice was clear and audi- ble. Aunt Peggy said, “It was a right down S00d voice—streng bass—had stamina in it.” 4 SAMUE ELL. —S SAW A LIVING MUMMY. A Wo So Old That Her Muscles Hung Like Shreds on Sticks. In the Corahill Magazine a writer thus situated upon the Nile: “We went into the hut after some hesitation (the dragoman whispered there were ‘ladies’ there), and found a vigorous cld man telling his Mus- sulman beads cross-legged on a mud bench, and on the floor bent over the fire the old- est-looking human being I ever saw alive. Mummies I have seen, and wondered not that they were dead, but in what part of her withered, desiccated frame that old woman found space to keep the stern vital energies that lined her grim, carved face I can scarcely guess. She looked no more living than seaweed does dried and stretch- ed on paper. “Her arms, her legs (thrust almost into the fire) were so shrunken that the jong leathern flesh and flaccid muscles hung round ‘them like dangling shreds on sticks. — neck — beads of wood and round her wrists leathern brace! ‘though, to be sure, I cannot — not folds of skin), and on her face lurked not oniy lines, but gullies and they seemed so deep and fallen. But for the occasional upturned glance of her cold, unquestioning eye I could not have suppos- ek a byte else — age of the earli- preserved o} remo’ queens of Egypt. = oie “The old man gave us lusty welcome, and sent for milk and dates and filled our pock- ets. He showed us his long spear that hung against the wall, and told me with a proud | gesture that he had often killed his man, but more often with a sword, and, taking me by the shoulder, showed me fiercely how | he used to do it. He was ninety years old, and had never been farther from home than Assouan, and then only once. Ali his sons | sat = Stood around us, and in the back- ground against the mud granary white teeth glimmered and the broad black faces of the women shone. I asked him what present he would like, and he asked for a little rice and a little coffee. All the time he clutched and fingered his Moslem rosa+y, | which, when I admired it, he wanted me to accept. The son came back with us to the dahbeah and carried off the coffee and rice in envelopes, to which I added a handful oi cigarettes and a couple of oranges, with particular injunctions that one was to be given to the old gentleman.” see INDEFINITE SENTENCES. Suggestions Made by Prof. Charles A. Collin in His Address. Prom the Bosten Commnonaeotu. -\ very strong argument for the “indefi- nite sentence” of criminals, with probation- ary release on parole, was made by Profes- sor Charles A. Collin at the anniversary meeting of the Massachusetts Prison Asso- ciation, which we announced last week. Professor Collin regards this system as “the foundation cornerstone of any rational, scientific method of treating prison con- viets.” “The transformation of the crimi- nal into @ serviceable member of society,” | he said, “is the only effective protection of | society against him. The mere temporary | caging of the criminal as a wild beast is a/ protection to society for the time being, it! is true. But if, when he is let out of his cage, he is worse than when he went in, he may be more wary and cunning thereaf- , but he will be more dangerous to so- than before he was caged.”’ Under the present system the convict & ged at the end of a fixed term with a new suit of clothes and a few dollars in his pocket. “How many graduates of Har- yard University,” Professor Collin’ asks, “dropped upon the world in such a fashion, with all the benefits in character, ability and reputation which Harvard can give them, with no friends except such as beck- on them to haunts of vice and criminal Ways of earning a living—how many Har- vard graduates under such circumstances would get through the next two years with- out being compelled to beg, -borrow, steal? How, then, can you expect the dis charged prison convict, with the firmest of} good resolutions, (as many ai that moment | have,) but with no satisfactory references | to previous employment, with no friends of | whom he can borrow, intoxicated with the sudden sense of freedom, to avoid the com mission of new crimes before he can earn an honest living ‘ “FREDDY the Loveliest Women in America. Miss Louise Morris of Baitimore, whose engagement to Frederick Gebhard has just been announced, has, ever since her society debut three years ago, been a reigning belle. Her portrait at the world’s fair at- tracted much attention. So perfect are her figure and face that she has been written and taiked about probably more than any lother woman. She is now about twent | ore yeurs old, of medium heigh:, beautifully molded tigure, rich chestnut hair, dark brown eyes and an exquisite complexion. | She inherits her beauty from her mother, who is among Baltimore's most lovely ma- trons. At her home she is known as one of the “big five,” a term applied to five | of the most beautiful girls in Baltimore. While on a visit to Narragansett Pier in the summer of 1802 she met Mr. Gebhard, whose attentions at once became so mark- e@ as to excite comment. She went to Bar Harbor; so did Mr. Gevhara. She went to New York; Mr. Gebhard foliowed. When the season was at an end Miss Morris re- turned to her home in Baltimore, and but a very short time had elapsed when Mr. Gebhard found it inconvenient to visit the city of monuments. When Miss Morris left the northern watering places she carried with her Mr. Gebhari’s first present, a beautiful little Scotch terrier. She prizes it most highly, and calls it “Dimple.” Ke- ports of their engagement have been print- ed before, but there is believed to be no doubt now that Mr. Gebhard has won the Erize. His forcune is believed to be about $750,000. _ Lea The Difference. From Life. was violently kicked by a cowboy, vithout any provocation. Why—ah—did you kick me?” “Because I done forgot and left my gun at home.” appar. ———_++. Getting It Through Him. From Life. records a visit to an Egyptian domicile! Fe | sleeping Lent le A New York dude traveling in the west 6 ‘NI ing Cincinnati, — Indiana Parlor Car to 0 rs. a + eae LANE.—Por Pittsburg, Parloe 0 Pity % P.M. CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRESS, Pullman Beffet Parlar Car to Harrisburg. ing and Dining Cars, Harrisburg to St. Cincinnati and Chic «7 PM. EXPRESS. —Pullman Ca! 3:15, M. | WESTERN Cars to Chicago and Harrisuurg to Clev Dining Car on T1090 PY SOUTH. \ EXPRESS.—Pollmap [Ly Louis |, aoeping ont Diag to Cincioustl. 10:40 PAL. PACIFIC EXPEISS.—Pullman Sleep. ing Car to Pitesburg. 7:30 AM. for Kane, Canandaizua, Rochester anf ‘Sunday. nd Renovo aul Wiiamsport daily, 8: fusport. Rochester. Buffalo and + except Saturday, with Sleep- ty lt n= Rorinater a Palin is. except Car Washington te Pr. 7:10 P.M. for Wate Niagara Falls dot ing Car Washin with Sleeping Rochester oR PHILADELPALA, XPw yORK AND THE AST. “CONGRESSIONAL LIMITED,” all Pare M. daily. 50 A.M. week days 252s st Bi, m, 5282 =3; 5, = “ o paris wk 2053 ike t feel certain they were | éences. and at Manassas for ‘ ‘Supt Viol a.m, THE CREAT SOUTHERN Fast MAIL.Daily, operntes Pullman Buffet Sh New York and Washington over the NEW TINE Yin Columbia to Savanoah ang Jacksonville, oniting at Danville with the Sleeper for Coarleston via Columbia and wi Greensboro for Augusta, also carrics through Pullman fet Sleeper New York to Atlanta, where di- rect connection is made fer Birmingham, Mont- 4:45 p.m.—Daily for Charlottesville and inters = Fiations.” sod, Virong rain for Frovt Lrwsinre x AH a an ua ARHINGIN AN — y LIMITED, ent of Pullman Vestivuded Sleepers sud’ Dining. Gare, rune over v SHORT ANE via Columbia to Augusta, Savannah, Jacksonville and Tanya. Din- ing Car Charlotte te Jacksonville. Poliman New York to New Orleans via Atlanta and tgomers, New York to Asheville via Salisbery, and Washington to Memphis via Birmiagham. Dining Car Greenboro’ to. Mont- TRAINS ON TON leave Washingtou WASHINGTON AND OBTO_DIVIS- city for Round Hill. aed 6-25. “except Sas- day, for Herndon and mein and t . arrive Wy m.. 2:45 pm Sig et eet he = ME 53 a.m. daily, from Hierndou onls. trains from the south arrive Wasb- mia) acm. anity except Sanday. sad a.m. = . fro Charlottesville. ry te nd at Pai sir gg . Pennsylvania am. and For Lexi For Ro For, Phila Rast, “dai Car), deipia 35 open at ‘ers on all day trains. w Ci For Atlantic % Sundays, 12:00 noon’ “Except Sunday. 10:00 a.m. and 12:00 neon. “Daily. ansfer Co. on orders Jeft at Picket offices. ain 1 Te, KB. CAMPBELLS Patten Gente yap Oe Manager. Gen. Pass ag> ~~ CHESAPEAKE AND O10 RAILWAY. Trane nee is sifest Nox suber 30, 1893. ual rains leave dat jon station (B, Poth aod B ote a rough the grandest A A Vice west from Washington. 00 PM. DAILY—“Cincinnat! and St. Lonis Special” “Solid Vestivuled, Newly Pauipped, Elec- tric-ligbted. Steam-hented ‘Train. Pullman's finest cars Washington to Cincinnati. Indian- apulis and St. Louis without change. Dining car le serving breakfast. Atrives Cincin- Touts ° ‘Chi Putlman sleepers isville, Pm.; Indianapolis, an4 St. Lonts, 7 for ail _points. 10:57 A.M. DAILY—For Old Point Comfort and ‘To ha. "DAILY Pxprese for Gordonsville, 2: M. Ds Fs for Go: Charlottesville, Waynesboro’, Staunton end princi: pal Virginia points; daily, except Sunday, for Rich- Pullman locations and tickets at company’s of- Gces, 513 and 1421 Pennsylvania avenue. el H.W. PULLER, 20 General Paceoneer Agent. POTOMAC RIVER BOATS WASHINGTON STEAMBOAT From Tth st. ferry rf. Steamer Wokefield on MONDA DAYS and SATURDAYS at 7 creek, Leonardtown and St. Clement termediate landings. — Keturping THURSDAYS and SUNDAY: ‘Re a30-1f NEW PALACE Leaves ‘Tuesday for € Si TUPSDaYs, “dui Pz (AMER HARRY KANDALL iver View wharf, 7th street, Sunday, and Thursday at (a.m. Landing at all wharves as far down as Maddox croek. Returning on Mondays, Wednesdays and Pridays, 3 pm. Pas: wins. na f mailing. 1765. Y SSiks so, ato irene, _Sp2t-tr ———— _Manager. NORPOLEK AND WASHINGTON STEAU BOAT OO. Dall} <E BETWEEN WASTIXNeTON, FENTON TESS MONROE. and ats NORFOLK, The Dew and powerful 100 Palace Sener” WASHINGTON AMD NORPOLK—SOUTR novNn. ‘on daily at 7 p. of rrive at Fortress Monroe at 6: next day. Arrive at Norfolk F ™ re rajiroad conbectiona are made for all pulute b anc southwest. a Sorte Porxn. Norfolk daily at 6:10 p.m. tewoe at Tit jum Arrive’ at soutl Leave Fr Washington at 51%, GIO, 1351 and 1421 Pens rd GIS 12 a ~~ OCEAN TRAVEL. ~ Burope,: wht! isn berths secured w Iway the urope, der. VAN Wit A * * Chote y enn Steamship. Passenger ind Tourist Agent. dackets to Kurmpe ty all lines. Uratts in sums to snit, Foreien Express. House Brovem: