Evening Star Newspaper, January 27, 1894, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, JANUARY 27, 1894-TWENTY PAGES, UNEQUAL MARRIAGES The Effect of Mesalliances on Both Men and Women. SOME WORDS ON A VITAL TOPIC The Most Fatal and Common Blunder in Life. THE FOOTMAN AND THE COOK) ae Written for The Evening Stitr. F THERE IS ANY mistake more fatal to a young man’s or a girl's future it is that supreme act of } social destruction, called a mesailiance. Indeed it is not mea- surable by any of the usual conditions of life, and death it- self would be a kind- ness, compared with the misery of some kinds of mesal- Mances. They may gpise from inequalities of birth, differencgps in. religious faith, or great discrepancies in age; their occasion, theyg 35 reaching and irzetrigygble mistake par exc! | An unequs! riage is not only the! most fatal blunder cf life, it is also the| most common one; and although it is not very easy for a men to ruin himself with | a single act, a foolish marriage will afford | him at least one @ 4 way. In regard to! men’s mesalliances they cannot be said to/ be specialiy the tem n of youth. Fool-| ish old men who marry the'r coo! foclish young men who but with some theatrical < very steady average. But the young m: mistake is much the worse of the two; for he has his whole life before him and hes Probably made no provision again ® social suicide. | lon mistake; e of ony life. the | | Footman Who Marries His Mistress. If an old man marries beneath his sta- tion and culture, he believes he is getting the wife he mast desires: d if he is dis- appointed, he ais at afr rate newr the end of life, and he either ‘has no children to! suffer from his folly. or ther have already | aay iste cons: grown beyond its most painful réach. But | S'¥e8. ise i who binds himself to a| 22%,nd they m, proaches, a > knowing: that her panishmenc is certain: woman who is every way beneath his own | but they cannot, tor the sake of their other station, education, and professicnal ambi- tion, is in a different e: In a very short time the disillusion of those senses begins! under which he pertiitted mere physical beauty to bind him; and he knows, that as far as his future progress is concerned, ne has put a miil-ctone about his neck. . ably dras to his level by the “grossness The Effect on 2 Giri, af his nature.” If she be a woman of strong The effect of a social m ance on a/character she may lift her husband up: girl is still worse. In the first place, it| ward, but she accepts such a labor at the ought to be so; for she has to sin a: the natural instinct of a good woman, is always to marry above hers stinct which is both physiol socially noble. For a woman is less thas ‘woman who does not consider the conse- quence of marriaze, and provide in e way possibie|to her, Offspring. And if she self socially the almost certain pres: tion is that the social status of her hus- band is the ais ‘ual gbilities and of his persona! also. And when a woman co eelf only in her ma: Ration of animal seltisnr The Disapprovul of the World. Without stopping, to analyze ihe gources ©f its disapproval, ‘this is undoubtedly an instinctive motive for the persistent cold- shouldering which society gives girls who degrade themselves by a mesailiance. it is obvious to every one that she has sinned against herseif, her family, her class snd the highest in. ts.@f her sex. Women have no pardon fer Gych sinners, for they see not only the p: z they look forward also to the possibie chiitren of @uch a union. They énderstand that they ‘The Cook Whe Marries Her Master. ail the limitat r 2 ave to suffer they for the: and her so know that and, a cial life it » mesalliance ha f Parents. evident to parents. passion and fancy | are; that it is} their duty, by all posstble means. to pre- vent their deuchter m4king an unworthy marriage. How f: S$ may lawful interfere is a t yet decided; nor i yet easy to decide. The American idea of | their own, and who is kind to them; that is, | Derll of her maiden place, and an life. more frequently There is some possibili mere frec fashionable girl, who does not know either ho who are not fine ladies will be sweet and a we cial position marries her servan me unequal only in their externals. The real characters of both must have been vulgar and naturally low and under-bred. married things comfortable. but an u i the Almight ees us a martyrdom blends his peace and consolations ther with; but when we torture ourselves our suff. on beds of down. | common sense prescribe curled hair for the m and bh denied feathers marriage is, theoretically, that every soul finds its companion soul, and lives happily ever after; and in this romantic search for a companion soul young girls are allowed to roam about society, just when their in- stincts are the strongest and their reason the weakest. The French theory—to which the English is akin, somewhat—is that a mother’s knowledge is better than a girl's fancy; and that the wisdom that has hith- erto chosen her teachers, physicians, spirit- ual guides, and companions, that has guid- ed her through sickness and health, is not likely to fail in selecting the man most suitable for her chiid’s husband. Love Matches. This latter theory supposes women to love naturally any personable man who is if she has a virgin heart, and comes in this state from her lessons to her marriage du- ties. The American theory supposes girls to love by sympathy, and through soul at traction and personal attraction; conse- quently, our girls are let loose early—too early—to choose among a variety of Wills, The Novel Reading Giri. ard Frant result is a gr “ maiche lies; and the natural number of what are called h, it must be ac- ween these two theories to make a p d of each t it tive selection: and the good are capabie ie and blame. asserted that rl has in © her own husband ager, and to keep he. 1 honorable girl may ed with her own honor; and a dis- honorabl to choose t may, peradventure, fare better than deserves; for Fortune does sometimes k that is not sieered. ihe sheer or im which w are an apotheosis of Love at any cost! Love against every domestic and s ciai obligation! Love in spite of all prudent thought of meat and money matters! Love in a cottage, and nightingales and honey- suckles to pay the rent! And if parents ob- ject to their daughters marrying ruin, then they are represented as monsters of cruel- ty; while the girl who flies steaitnily to her misery, and breaks every moral ue to do so, is idealized into an angel of truth and suffering. The Wife of a Servant. In real life what are parents to do with a daughter whose romantic folly has made marry their groom or their footman, We have outiived the inexorable passions of our ancestors, and their undying loves and hatreds, sacritices and revenges. Our suciai code tolerates no passion swallow- ing up all the rest; and we musi be con- tent with # decent expression of feeling. Waat ineir daughter has done they can- fot undo; nor can tney relieve her from the raat consequences of her act. She has to put ine servant above and be- m, and to ace her ole fam- she may please her low-born lover ana as therefore no right fore tn: r socially above the sta- en. She has become the fe of a servant, and they cannot accept husband as their equab wor can they ult their friends by introducing him to t How wretched is the position she has put herseif in, for if the man she mar- ried be naturally a low man, he will prob- she has chos higher life. And if she ither te lift him to her elf to his level, what Lifelong regrets, ’ bitter eprcach; or else a forcible f tree. But the latter rem- ‘ operation instead of hope Never can she quite regain her aura of a doubtful effort of her future After all, though men h of be: > mat carries th it. d influences every ‘ave not the repu- ng romantic, it is certain that er of unequal imarriage they are imprudent than women. y of lifting a low- a to the level of a cultivated men dare this possibility far quently than is generally supposed. a long season they find the ¢ ladies with whom they have ilirted and s; and in this mood they idenly taken with some simpie, un- horn wot to dress, or flirt, or dance. So they ke the grave error of thinking that be- use fine ladies are Insupportable, women ble. But if the one be a blank, ‘hat prove the other a prize? The dull- ‘s or folly of a polite woman is d enough, but the dullness and folly uneducated woman is worse. soon, they find this out, and comes indifference, neglect, cruelty, all the misery that attends two ruined ves. a Certain Wretchednens. ‘rhe result. of unequal marriage in both sexes is certain wretchedness, and this ver- dict ‘is not to be altered by its exceptions, however brilliant they may seem to he. For when a man of means and education uarres an uneducated girl of low >irth, or an of apparent culture and high so- and the S$ are reasonably happy, then it y be pos‘tively said “there has been no ssalliance.” The husband and wife were It is folly to talk of two beings unequally ing together,” or of “time differences,” and making Habit indeed reconciles to much suffering, and to many trials; qual marriage ts a trial so one any business to have. It is wichout ex- without comfort. When like a conflagration. Per- chain may be worn, as a tight rn. into until it no longer oh, ry in the process! the resigned suf- s patience; quite as well as on to what ht of energy to the mistakes the very climax of JA E, BARR. for thoush ins ‘is the vi lity, submi Bedding for Babtes. Babies of the last generation were raised Now science, fashion and pillow 2s well as the mattress. This affords better circulation, an even temperature is maintained and at the brain gets a chance infant who is put to sleep on ia down. Very many altogether, and in tion the dim- ture is put to sleep on es and pussy cats. No 1 in the up-to-date layette. The pillow slips are made of cambric; addling bands are knitted or 2 wool and the bands of the barrow nel petticoats, instead of being folds of iinen or muslin, are sheer nainsook, delightful to the touch. ——coo—__— Up-to-Date Sunday School. School Superintendént—“And who Jam?" rl (daughter of modern progress- woman)—“He was the husband of Eve.” | spite of this demand, it is claimed by « CCORDING TO thoughtless popular belief, anybody can keep a hotel; persons of experience assert that very few people | are fitted for success as hotel managers, while it is the opin- ion of those who are versed in the details of managing cafes, that it is much eas- fer to conduct a ho- tel than it is to sup- erintend such an institution. This is a ques- tion, perhaps, which may never be settled except by railway companies, and yet it is settled by law that railway companies are not keepers of hotels. The 5 me pre of Kentucky,by a recent decision, holds that, no matter how many sleeping cars and dining cars a railway compan. ate, that company is not, leg: keeper. If this decision has value, su usually attaches to the judg! of courts that are supreme, a railway company may decline to lodge and feed any person; no person can collect damages for property lost while that person is the guest of a railway company, and no such organization can detain the person or baggage of that individual who having had board and lodging from the corporation declines to pay for the same. At least that would scera to be the situation in Kentucky, and it is an amusing phase of railway history, be- cause railways, by the exigencies of the case, are forced to operate both sleeping ears and dining cars. So confirmed are the people of the United States in their peripatetic habiis an1 their love of luxury thgt they demand the best of accommodations while traveiing. In railway managers, no railway company makes, directly, a dollar on the business done by dining cars. Must Follow Suit. It is a rule in business that any invest- , ment which doés not pay must be dropped or it will drop you. Why, then, is it thai railway companies operate dining cars? It is because it is a case of compulsion. | As one dces the other must do. The people have had a taste of dining car sery- ice and now they demand the luxury. is of but little imporiance that a road traverses the famous battlefields of Vir- sinia, that it climbs the peaks of the Blue Ridge and the Alleghanies or that It fol- lows the windings cf a beautiful valley, if it-fails to match its competitors in the other great desideratum—the dining car service. The opulence of historic and picturesque wealth cannot compete without the appeal to the stomachs ard comfort of travelers, so great and inevitable is the demand for the latest and best, and all there is of it, in modern railway provision. In view of this fact, it seems almost impossible that the claims of the railroad managers should be correct. By an estimate based upon the experience of all railroads in the country, it is found that upon each meal served on a dining car there is an average loss of seven cents. This new phase of the law of supply and demand, is explained, not by the claim that there is not a profit on each meal served at the price of $1, but that the average total number of meais served is insufficient to meet the total cost of that service. Tnere are, doubUess, some trains in the country, | between New York and Washington, and | between New York and Buffalo, where! there is a profit in the dining car service, but as an entirety the average shows a iigure on the wrong side of the ledger. In view of this fact, it is interesting to know as to the origin of the service. A Sure Thing. The Pullman brothers made their for-| tunes by banking on a sure thing. They laid their wagers on the love of human be- ings for things that make life easy and comfortable. About thirty-five years ago George and Alfred Pullman were practical and’ industrious cabinet makers in a litue one-story shop in Canal street, Grand Rapids, Mich. Between the demands made on them fer hand-made tabies, chairs, bu- reaus, bedsteads and the like they found time to act, respectively, as the manipu jJators of the alto and the tefior horns inj what was then known as the Valley City israss Band, of which the late br. D. W. Bliss of Washington was also a_member. It was in the little shop referred to that the Pullman sleeping car was first evolved, and from that beginning has developed the mammoth interests of the Puilmans. To- day an important part of those interests is the dining car. The shrewd revolutionists of railway car construction saw a way to tickle the palates of travelers and utilized it, knowing that it would prove a reliable investment. At the start the Pullmans built and operated the wheeled caravansa- ries as an accommodation to the railway companies, and the terms upon which they | operated were based upon the loss liable to | ensue, instead of upon probable profits. | The Puilmans had the courage of their con- victions, so that their dining cars were veritable palaces in finish and furniture; attractive to the eye, and complete in re- sources for the accomplishment of the end in view. The investors did not risk the taking of a loss, and yet they did not, ap- parently, seek a profit, and so for a num- ber of years the dining cars were operated by the manufacturers as a favor—an ad. ditional attraction, for the benefit of rail- ways. Even now a very large proportion of the dining cars in service is operated by the Pullmans. Long experience, however, has convinced the managers of railways that this service may be provided by their companies with equal satisfaction to travelers, less incon- venience to themselves and at a cost less than is indicated by the figures of the Pull- mans. The result is that a majority of the leading trunk lines have purchased dining cars outright and are operating them on their own account. Somehow when a person pays a dollar for a meal he feels that he is paying a profit to the caterer, even though the meal be somewhat elaborate. If each dining car could be assured that a certain number of meals would be required daily there would be a profit. | | i | It is Expensive. A new modern dining car costs from $15,000 to $18,000, according to the elegance of its fittings. The kitchen utensils and table furniture for a single car cost $500— the wares necessary being of the finest quality, usually of Haviland brand. Then for silver ware—knives, forks, spoons, tea pots, sugar bowls, milk pitchers and other accessories—a single car requires $1,000 worth. Next come the linens. If there is any one thing which a dining car must never be without it is clean linens. If a drop of coffee touches a tablecloth or nap- kin or a doylie a change is necessary, and so it is with everything in the line of linens. Hence, with a train traveling 2,000 miles at forty miles an hour—there being no laundry attachment as yet—the washing and ironing of linens while under way is out of the question. As an illustration of this cloth consideration the appended ex- hibit and the regular outfit on a diner will be found of interest. For a single car the list Is as follows: Tablecloths, 200; napkins, 500; medium- sized doylies, 100; small doylies, 75; extra small doylies, 50; cooks’ jackets, 60; cooks’ aprons, 75; caps for cooks, 50; jackets for waiters, 75; aprons for waiters, 100; glass ware towels, 200, and dish towels, 100. Cost, $500. Thus we have a total cost so far of from $17,000 to $20,000 per car—a sufficient sum to fit and equip an elaborate cafe in any large city. To this sum must be added an average of $100 per month for the Joss by breakage of dishes, and then come operat- yining-CatServicns by Chas.S Hathaway. 23 Ss Nee . ing expenses per car, as follows: One Siewartsat $100 per month; one head cook, $75 a month; two assistant cooks, at 3W and $40 a month, respectively, and four waiters, at $30 per month each. In addition 'to the wages those persons employed on a diner get their board while making a run. The cost of raw material used on the | five-day run between Louisville and New York and return aggregates $400, to which must be added $125 for the wages and boarding of employes, so that, approxi- mately, an average of over 100 meals must be served each day on every dining car in order to make the venture a profitable af- fair. There is no absohitely exact method of es- timating as to the number of meals that will be served during a run of, say, eighty hours, because of the uncertainty of the habits and dispositions of travelers. The sleeper may be crowded, every berth occu- pied and yet when the steward passes through his train with his “last call for breakfast."it may, and frequently does happen, that no more than ten or twelve breakfasts will be ordered. On the other hand, the sleepers may be, practically, vacant, and yet when dinner is called, twenty-five or thirty ladies and gentlemen from the day coaches may hurry in to the dining car as hungry as bears. Thus it ts. that the only safe way is for the steward | to be absolutely certain that he has enough of everything when he starts out on a run. A Man of Parts. ‘The conductor or steward of a dining car is the man who bears all the responsi- bility of his car. He makes out all of his bills of fare, which he submits to the chief of the commissary department for approval. Receiving this sanction, the bills are then turned over to the chief cook, who superintends the taking on of supplies in accordance therewith. After this has been done the steward takes a com- plete inventory of all supplies—not only of provisions, meats, fruits, wines, &c., but of all dishes and linens—and that inventory goes to the chief of the department. At the end of the run the conductor makes a report of supplies used and his inventory and report must agree. To aid in assur- ing harmony between receipts and dis- bursements, checking systems between waiters, cooks and conductors are used. To be a successful conductor of a dining ’ a man must be exceptionally skillful a judge of people. He must be able to pass rapidly through a train and by not- ing faces and the attire of pasengers and by recording the number of lunch boxes and baskets visible, form an approximate- ly close estimate as to the number of meals ely to be called for. Ali circumstances must be taken into consideration. For in- stance, it is safe to assume when a train starts at 7 in the evening that a major- ity of the passengers have had their din- ner before boarding the train. It ts also to assume that a majority of those passengers ticketed for a distant city will want three meals the next day. This is but a small part of the conductor’s duty. He is expected to seat his guests and use exceptionally wise judgment in the per- formance of that duty. He must pick out the luxurious wine-loving epicure and sep- arate him from the one who Is a total ab- stainer; he must keep the voracious ten- minute eater away from the slow and de- Mberate feeder and he must so dispose of the chap who eats with knife and fingers that he will be apart from the dainty and elegant manipulator of forks, food, knives and spoons. In brief, the high-class dining car conductor must be judge, diplomat and executive all in one and his manner and appearance must be invariably agreeable. Valuable Inches. For years the fanciful precincts of the ship's galley have served as the type, par excellence, of all that is compact and han- dy; but with the coming of the new con- venience whatever of credit attaches to such qualifications must be divided with the kitchen of the dining-car. Anything more concise and at the same time more complete in its utility cannot well be de- sired. The range, ample in its oven and tep surface, for the boiling, broiling, bak- ing, stewing and frying Of food for hun- dreds of people, seems to shrink itseif mod- esUy up against the wall. The carving board, the baker's bin and table and the scul- lion’s tank are all on hand when needed, and out of sight when not wanted. There are shelves and hooks, cupboards, great and small; bins for flour, fruits and gro- ceries, refrigerators for meats and milk, and, in fact, there are ample accommoda- tions for all things needed. Everything seems to be right in front of you at the right time, and, with the three cooks who preside, the area of space occupied is about five feet wide by twelve fect in length. In thinking over the dimensions, bear in mind that the car is about nine feet high, and that every inch on all walls, clear to the ceiling, is utilized for the purposes of the place; that from the floor up the china closet is all shelves and drawers, and that each shelf and drawer is designed especial ly for the reception of a certain lot of ai ticles, which, in order to be received, must be placed in position in just such a certain way. In brief, it is, throughout, the Latin “Multum in parvo” exemplified by the use of the rule, the saw and the hammer. Then ; there is the buffet, equally condensed and convenient, where are kept the supplies of mineral waters and other liquid luxuries, while all through this store-house end of the car are most remarkable utilizations of space for the reception of water, ice and fuel. It is here that the chief cook and his assistants may prepare a dinner so elabo- rate and attractive that it seems a matter of magic; and as the waiters, dignified and wholesome in their snow-white jackets and aprons, serve the guests so skillfully and satisfactorily, one wonders if, after all, it is really worth while to try to live else- where than on a train which is scheduled to do a certain number of miles an hour continuously. Loading for a Run. “Let’s go out and see the boys preparing for the run to New York,” said R. H. Myrick, superintendent of the dining car service of the Chesapeake and Ohio road, with headquarters at Covington, Ky. And as I followed him into the trainyard I could not help wondering as to what I was to see. Entering the car I found the interior a bewitching picture of cleanliness and ele- gance. Every table was tastefully iaid for the dinner, which would be served as soon as leaving Cincinnati, the spotless linen, the shining silver and the hanging baskets of foliage plants combining to outrival the elegance of the richly finished car. And as I feasted my eyes there came from the kitchen a wealth of savory odors suffi- cient to whet the appetite of any well-fed “Where do you carry your extra "* I asked, and Mr. Myrick an- swered, ‘In the cellar. Come on and I'll show you.” Following him to the outside of the car I saw two men at work loading the “cellar.” This compartment consists of a large box, which is long enough to reach the entire width of the car,and it is secure- ly built under the floor of the vehicle, form- ing a sort of second or false bottom there- to. Into this box the men had packed sev- eral pieces of ice and were just then stor- ing away various loins of beef, legs of lamb, dressed poultry, chops, steaks, cans of milk and jars of butter. “Is it neces- sary,” I asked, “to carry so many sup- Plies ?"" “Absolutely,” said Mr. Mayrick, “be- cause it is better by far to have material to throw away at the end of the run than to be unable to fill an order because of our supplies falling short. Speaking of sup- Plies,” he continued, “did you ever see an oid-fashioned Kentucky ham, one of the real old Henry Clay kind?” and when I re- plied that I had not, knowingly had that experience, he invited me to Zollow him. We entered the headquarters, a plain, arte bellum structure of brick, and as we came into the high basement thereof my mind was instantly filled with memories of win- ter evenings long ago, when hickory nuts and cider, doughnuts and cheese sent us to bed contented rustic monarchs, each with a dream builder of his own. There from the dark old hand-hewed rafters hung dozens of three and four-year- old hickory-smoked hams, the bouquet from which was calculated to encourage every hen in the blue grass section to at once begin her cackling. ————— ——————— HORSFORD’S ACID PHOSPHATE A Nerve Food and Tonic. The most effective yet discovered, IN FAVOR oF SYMMETRY. Exercise the Abdom 1 Muscles to Decrease the Girth. From Harper's Bazar, The tendency of women in middle toward that something which Slprelag often delicately characterized as “embon- point.” Given a certain number of years and a tendency to avotrdupois and inva- riably the fatal signs appear; the lap, when one is seated, disappears, the girth below the waist line increases out of proportion to the rest of the body and men and women of middle age fing themselves suddenly encumbered with properties that never seem rightfully to belong to them—prop= erties as difficult to be rid of as the hold which the fabled Old Man of the Sea ig. said to have had upon his victim. On the miseries of these properties and Proportions it is quite possible to descant at endless length without exhausting the theme. Every sufferer knows what they are and has added to her own sense of Personal discomfort the painful conscious- ness of feeling the eye of every observer taking, as it were, her measurements and condemning her outlines. Few sufferers, however, understand how simple are the means by which relief may come. of them. generally exercised so little. The easiest and simplest of the exercises for the re- duction of the abdomen: is bending and forth from the waist. Raise the bend the body back from the waist without | allowing the hip or knee to move. Do this | Yery slowly at first. that the movement should stop the mo- meut it in any way causes the woman pain or discomfort, while other authorities main- tain that done rightiy—that is, slow! suffer no possible discomfort from it. Great care should then be taken to do the exercise carefully. After having bent back as far as possible, with the arms still above the head, bend slowly, while exhaling, hands can be brought to the floor. tice this ten times daily. An exercise rather more difficult to ac- quire depends for its efficiency upon the power of the individual to stand upright snd contract the abdomen at will. Stal pane it in shoulders), moving the upper part of the. bedy a little from side to side to get the chest well up. This pulls, as it were, the abdomen after it. In this way the inert of the flesh is overcome and opportunity for accumulation dissi- pated. Women in whose families there is a tendency to large stomachs can entirely this twelve times night and morning. A very severe exercise only sound women should undertake is as follows: Lie flat down on the floor with the arms held fast to the sides of the body, two or three times. It will need practice to acquire this, but it is worth it. With the arms akimbo twist the upper part of the body, making it perform a the left, a given number of uimes, and equal number. With the arms still akimbo angle, first‘on one side, then on the other. Standing perfectly be called into play by this movement and the weight of flesh overcome. The of the hands prevents one’s us! to pull one’s self about. The abdominal lay. mrt the size of the abdomen, as is fre- sides of the body and exhaling every par- ticle of air in the lungs, contracting the diaphragm have fuller play afterward: while doing this, till the lungs are filled to their utmost capacity; then let the arms descend again as one exhales. Do is twenty times twice a day. Not only wifl the abdomen decrease in size, but the ¢os? tive habit will disappear as well. While performing any of these exercises no corsets must be worn, and the body should be as free from clothing as possi- ble. The Increase of Nerv: fea. From McClure’s Magazine. Doctor S. Weir Mitchell considers it proved beyond any dispute that nervousness ts the characteristic malady of the Ameri- can nation, growing upon them in a-fright- fully accelerated ratio every year, and threatening them with disasters at no dis- tant date which the mind shrinks from con- over the head, take in a full breath ag® muscles are strengthened and the weight | CV? and one which | scandal,” one. The muscles of the abdomen will all} He refused to see the case in position | son alt Ing the arms | to marry the beloved cousin. pectoral muscles are therefore forced into} this is but a sketch, I tried quently the case, is the result of a certain’}‘words didn't appear costiveness of habit, relief will come from} man standing upright with the hands to the f “father would never relent,” and he had abdomen while doing so, in order to let the | be unusually cl breath | was rather expensive, 'ABIT OF PSYCHICAL EXPERIENCE ce BY DE WITT C. SPRAGUE. ——e—___ Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. Late one evening in January, 187—, I reached the town in the southern part of Italy where I was to represent the United States government until relieved by a suc- cessor or removed by the Roman fever that rather too frequently prevailed down there. On my arrival at the hotel in which I had oracrea quarters I found supper awaiting me, and was finishing the meal, when a man, whom I had observed perambulating the room in an apparently restless man- ner, approached me and, politely apologiz- ing, introduced himself as Count B., from Albania. Accepting my invitation to be seated, he handed me a cigarette, and we Soon became pretty well acquainted. The count was a tall, handsome man of about twenty-three years, and he appeared to be an accomplished gentleman. The following day, with him for my Durpose of this article ic to point out some | £¥4¢, I strolled about the city and along the fine harbor, and during our walk he Exercise of the abdominal muscles ius | 04 me @ good deal about himself and his been found to be the most effective way of ped ~ He was an only child. His father, overcoming this tendency to undue size|?, 0 spsulshed Albanian nobleman, was below the belt. No part of the body is | {nem ® Prominent minister of state in that Turkish province. His mother, of German extract, had died some two years ago. le was educated in Paris and at Heidelberg, and at the latter place his cousin, a beau- ‘ul girl, sixteen years old, was also in school when he went there. She was his father’s ward and lived with him, though Careful people insist | the count had seldom seen her for some years prior to his going to Heidelberg. But at that place the cousins met fre- quently, and before long they discovered surely, gracefully and with precision—the | tat a mutual love attachment was draw- most delicately organized of women can | ing their young hearts together with its golden chain. They were secretly affianced, yet deemed it prudent as well as proper to keep their secret until their return to Al- forward, still very | bania, when the count’s father should be and with the hips | dul; and knees still unmoved, see how near the | wish, ly apprised of their love and supreme _At the end of a year, in a felicitous state of heart and mind, they returned to their home, and the count promptly informed his father of the love affair with his ing erect, draw in the abdomen. While | Cousin and begged permission to marry draw up the chest (not the | 4¢r. But to the astonishment and grief of the lovers the severe old minister, whose sense of honor appears to have been ex- tremely acute, flatly refused his conseat, forbidding the lovers meeting and distributed | again, and to insure the enforcement of this hard mandate he ordered his son to be sent to Italy, where, with a suitable allow- overcome this, even on a milk diet. Try | @™¢e, he was to remain during his father's Pleasure. Moreover, “to avoid family * the son was commanded to bear an assumed name while abroad. The young man, driven nearly to distraction by his then raise the body from the hips. Do this | father’s arbitrary orders, was at first in- great | clined to rebel, but a tender letter trom his cousin and the wise counsel of frien&s finally prevailed, so one dark, stormy night spiral movement from the right round to | hé permitted himself to be taken from his then | father’s palace and placed on board a from the left round to the right for an4 mer bound for Italy. Now, the only reason given by the old bend the body again from the hips at an | nobleman for his extreme course was that, being the guardian of his niece, he might couraging her straight, place the | be accused of ens hands lightly on the breast, keep the hips | to his son and knees still, then turn the head and | absolute upper part of the body very slowly and | no carefully to first one side and then the) his friends was able to other, as if to look at something back of | parent! in order to secure fi his family in control of her large wealth, and argument or influence on the remove ly absurd conclusion from light, and even threatened to if he persisted After he the count's story, of to him to wait patieritly, and quently on the beauties of hope, but my to console the young to any great extent, for he knew his “forever lost all hope of ess.”” “At dinner that day the count my having a glass of lachrymae christi him. The wine, which at that time oo cer — in we was uly ordered, not promptly brought. After waiting rather than a rea- Sater, ee mie a again called the vaiter ant In an angry tone why order had not been attended to. The fellow answered insolently that he was obeying his master, the landlord, where- upon my new friend, greatly enraged, called for that personage. He soon appeared, and there ensued a war of words, in a strange language, that threatened serious conse- ess in Amer- | quences, if I was to judge of the situation fiery tone and violent gesticulation. However, there were no physical blows, and the storm soon spending its wrath, the landlord hurriedly fetched the wine and departed without a word. “The canaille!” en the count, as he proceeded to fill the I was getting ready for bed that night when a light rapping called me to the door of my room, which I opened, and was svr- prised to meet the landlord there. In a templating. The number of deaths from | whisper he obsequiously begged pardon for this cause is already appalling,and is stead- ily and rapidly increasing. In some of the busy centers the tables of mortality show disturbing me at that late hour, yet ex- ‘cused himself because he had something important to communicate. I motioned him to enter, and as soon as the door was closed that the proportion of nerve deaths has | behiai him he began to gratify my curios- multiplied more than twenty times in the jity to know the purpose of his midnight last forty years, and that now the nerve deaths number more than one-fourth of all the deaths recorded. What shocking in these returns, this fearful loss is most | the truth.” call. He had come to warn me, and a hi sense of duty would not permit him to leave me for another hour “in orance of “Signor Consul,” he continued. “you are the honored representative of a of life occurs mainly among young people | STeat nation. You are a distinguished guest of both 1 cans are fast becoming a very short-lived pl any intjux of vitality by immigration, the Publication of the census would send a pang of horror and alarm throughout the land. What Is the cause of this? Doctor Mitchen is clearly of opinion that the first and m potent cause is the climate. How or why the climate of America produces the effects that it does, has never been explained. Doctor Mitchell says the operation of cli- matic conditions in relation to health in this country is utterly mysterious; but he peo nd that, if they were shut in on/ who constan’ themselves for only a few years, without | company is exes. This means that the Ameri- |!" my hotel, and I have no right to see your noble disposition imposed upon by a bad man, a traitor, signor, a traitor! That man tly intrudes himself into your an adventurer, not a count. He is indebted 600 lire to me and will cheat me with lies. When I ask for my money, he ‘I expect money from the prince. {my father, in Albania,’ and he has told me {the same ae Ae tae Tee oe Three days ago I requested him to give me a draft on the prince, his father. He refused and insulted me. No, signor, hé'ts not a count. Today a gentleman from Albania told me that there is no family of his name in that country, so you see he is a swindler, Signor Consul. I do not care is quite persuaded that the development |so much for my 600 lire as I do for the of a nefvous temperament is one of the | honor of race-changes, which are also giving the | stroyed if Americans facial, vocal, and other peculiar- ities derived from none of their ancestral stocks. Some scientific observers have af- firmed that there is an “electric” quality in the climate here which operates pow- erfully on the nerves, but it is not clear what they mean by that; and Doctor Mit- chell, who has probably given the subject more attention than anybody else, doer not consider the evidence of this electric egency sufficient to found a theory. What is certain is, that people coming largely from the phlegmatic races undergo a change of temperament here, and become excitable, emotionabie, and irritable in a degree that is unknown in ary other part of the world. Another plainly recognized effect of the American climate is, makes the strain of either mental or physical labor much more severe than it is elsewhere. ——_-—_+e-— Antony and Cleopatra. From the Detroit Free Press. The golden barge of the mighty queen floated softly down the beautiful and mys- terlous river, and Cleopatra turned her] for his bill from date until glorious eyes from the entrancing scene to | At the same time I pointed Antony. “O, king,” she murmured, the world a sight so beautiful?” there in all “Thou art more beautiful, queen of my | pressed by my heart,” he whispered, touching her hand | Somewhat profusely for my “unsel with his lips. Those wondrous eyes of hers closed lan- guidly and the long lashes !ay at rest upon | ©! the rich red olive of her cheeks. “Tony,” she sighed rapturously, “you are a corker and no mistake.” And the golden barge floated ete ~S a Wait a While. From the Somerville Journal. -For three whole weeks now—hear him boast! Smith hasn't smoked. on. For three whole weeks Jones has gone dry— | had entirely jes almost choked. Brown has bis diary written up Complete to date. White has hi But wait a while! You'll see Smith with His favorite pipes. Friend Jones will try a little gin To cure the gripes. Brown's dairy won't be brought out Each blessed night, And as for White, his cash account Will be a sight. ‘Twas: ever thus. The glad new year hered in us! ‘With ynost commendable resolves ai To keep from sin. 3 That it will be a lasting change Men have no dou But most of them packslide ‘before * The month is out. my house, which would be de- I permitted such a distinguished guest as the Signor Consul to be swindled and robbed under my very eyes. And £0, Signor Consy, beware of that man, who is laying plans to take advantage of your generous heart. But he shall not do it. Tomorrow I will go to the police and he shall be arrested. I will not wait any longer.” This is not half the talk of which the ex- cited landlord vehemently delivered himself before he paused, evidently for a breathing spell. But I embraced the opportunity to put in a word, though I admit that I wasn’t altogether sure of my footing. However, I began by assuring him of my perfect con- ‘Adence in Count » for he had shown me papers and letters relating to his fam- ily affairs, which appeared staterents. It was true that he was not then bearing his father’s family nave, yet there were reasons for this which 1 could not disclose. Regarding the non-receipt of the expected remittance, while I, of course, couldn't explain it, I advised ¢! host to be patient for a few days longer, assuring him that I would be responsible further notice. out to him that the hotel ought the amount al- the count's large luggage in to be ample security for ready due. The landlord seemed to be favorably im- remarks. He thanked me fish kind- ieee he ser, yet he ed his shoulders doubtfully. as he Went out he turned to me and uskad softly. “Did I understand the signor consul thai he would be security for the 600 lire?” Official business calling me to Rome I left for that city early the next morning yee the count, and urn, a wi that we again met. I noticed ‘6 canted ness and distinguished advice, which he would wait a little change in his appearance. He was Pale and and the usual vivaciousness disappeared, yet he greeted me heartily and said he had been dread- fully lonesome during my absence. I tried to make him cheerful at the dinner table by relating some funny American stories, but only faint, sad smiles repaid my ef- forts. And what me not a little was his refusal to touch a drop of his favorite lachrymae christi. He explained that his “head was not well.” After dinner we walked out and he again up the story of his troubles. He de- clared that it was evident his father had forsaken him, because no remittance had been received since his arrival in Italy. He had written to a friend of his family at ‘Heldelberg informing him of the situation, bi¥amd, although an answer should have come days ago, none had been received, and his Jast lira was gone! But he proudly de- conversed in German), when child, my grandmother Albanian love song to long ago strange! we folk songs of great beauty and over there, but this particular always touched me more deeply than any other. It was the sad tale of an Albanian maiden, who had been driven almost to madness by the cruel desertion of her un- faithful lover, and after months of misery had died of a broken heart. But during ail chi that her lover, still true, in a “land more od Tn © j2in4 more beautiful than Albania. melody was surely and doleful enough. ‘At the ee ple is a tolerably good English version: Fair is Albanian land, Yet there’s a fairer strand, Where doth my lover stand Longing for me. For him I weep and sigh, Love, hear my heart's wild ery! © lend me wings to fly Where I would be! person to measure time, h > = i state just how tong T bae ley <4 fore to dream ‘th on my a or the dura’ of ow ve read much of the psychologi- cal and physiological Speculations of the learned as to the origin or cause of and yet I confess that the phenomena “wear the guise of objective realities when the avenues of sense are apparen wholly shut off from external influences, are still unexplained—still a marvel to me. That my dreagn, if indeed it may be called a@ dream, had no connectjon with any subject-matter which had ever occupied my mind I can safely affirm, my last thoughts before soing to fateful night, as I easily loved ones beyond the western the Atlantic. 2§ All at once I saw a tome whose outlines un In, yet the face, clearly radiantly beautiful and the face of a woman, or of an &@ moment the vision looked dot with a sad smile, but the ly changed*to an intolerable anguish. The thrown forward until —_ fairly touched keen stinging ut a finger while I was my"bed, and & EE : i i if PRET Et i 3 g i i f | i i i i i i i | i i : i I i Ey 8g 5: g i i ; 2 f l i Ee ° 2 % i i aege as SE g il i er) # EE ii gF 5 jee Hi: se rt He il ae ? i # to extract from much_profc; that the count was suffering from g g appearance son who had been had not gone far a Hs j L ily, “There are and earth, Horatio, your philosophy.” than are ——-—- ee-____ The Strain of the School on American Gtris. From McClure’s Magazine. Dr. Mitchell deliberately maintains that, for all the best purposes of female society, it would be better that American girls were not educated at all until they are seventeen than that they were overwrought are at present. They study seven hours a day, when two or three sufficient to keep their intell;gence in ing—and all for what? To spend their after years on a sofa or In a sick rcem, and to be a burden, instead of a help, to those who are dearest to them. It is a tremendous saying, from one speaking with authority, that as much domestic unhappiness is in America by nervousness among by dram-drinking among men. Yet such is Dr. Weir Mitchell's verdict. He holds that every girl ought to be examined as to her nervous temperament when about to go to school, and at frequent intervals afterward; that leisure, exercise and wholesome ought to be insisted upon; and that studies ought to be compulsorily diminished, or dis- continued altogether, the moment the wel!- known signs of overstrain appear. If girls are maintained in normal nervous condition until they are seventeen, they may study almost as hard as they please afterward Ht ; without imperiling their woman's life. Rut let there be no mistake about it. Overwork and unnatural worry from eight or nine to seventeen mean ruin and wretchedness from seventeen till early death, —-— +e+-—_ _ How Armour Thawed a “Freese-Oat.” From McClure’s Magazine. A few months ago there wae a movement to crush Armour in a grat. corner. He had contracted ¢o deliver several million bushels of grain at a given date. Delivery of this sort, as is well known, means delivery in. the elevators, not in the cars. Armour’s granaries were full. The combination would not let him have a bushel’s room fn any other structure. And still he had three mil- lion bushels to move from the far west, and there were but thirty days left for the com- pletion of the undertaking. When he dis- covered the “freezing-out” designs of his competitors he gave himself no anxiety whatever. He rang his office bell. A clerk responded. “Bend for Mr. » the builder.” Mr. duly made his appearance. There was a brief conversation. Twenty- eight days after that the newest and largest erain elevator in the world was in Armour's possession. It had been built for him in the interim by an enormous force of men work- ing in three eight-hour shifts each day. The three million bushels were stored on the twenty-ninth day, and there was space to spare for a million more. ———— 6m The Typewriter’s Occupation. From the Indlauapolis Sentinel. A pretty typewriter, who is employed at @ large downtown office, was talking in a rather elevated tone of voice to a gentile- man of her acquaintance on an Illinois street car yesterday. He was evidently ac- quainted with the character of her occupa- tion, and asked her what it was. ““Punch- ing holes in the Enclish language,” the answer. And there were ample in@ica- a that she was -peaking the literal wal