Evening Star Newspaper, March 10, 1894, Page 19

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MARCH 10, 1894—TWENTY PAGES MI-CAREME IN PARIS men take tua It is the Feast Day of the Blanchis- seuse. SHE PARADES IN ALL HER GLORY And the Jolly Students Join in the Fun. a CONFETTI AND SERPENTINES —-.—___ fMpecial Cozrespondence of The Evening Star. PARIS, February 13, 1894. ARISIANS OF TO-! lay turn out for Mardi Gras; they walk the streets and throw confetti; but Mardi Gras begins to come too early for a people who become i more delicate each year. A later fete— mid-Lent—in sunnier days along in March inherits all the bril- Mancy and the en- thusiasm of the car- Careme is Lent, from Quadragesima, the forty days; and mi-careme remains mid- Lent, however little buxom washerwomen fast. It is their day. Dressed out in ball costumes, they gloriously ride on floats, in open carriages, in omnibuses and triumph- al cars. Their queens kiss their strong, ruddy fingers to the greatest crowd that Paris sees throughout the year. A Blanchisseuse. These bianchisseuses comprise a quite im- portant corps in the great army of the Paris workingwomen. From their higher classes, washers of fine linen, repasseuses Groners) and tuyauteurs (fluters), down to the humbler bleachers and the drunken femmes de lavoir, they count up some ‘), 00 souls. Every Frenchman who has stud- Jed them, from Emile Zola down to Octave Uzanne, reports two universal characteris- ties First. all blanchisseuses have weil- formed, pretty hands, a thing « unex- pected; and, second, these youn; women are given over, as a class in Paris (as if their occupation fostered it), to what the latter student calis “a crazy perversity” in the use of “incredibly gross” expressions, although in actual living they preserve a fairly average honesty. That is to sa they are a course and sturdy set of firts. Frerch literature, especially of the lighter, Peetic-fournalistic + abounds in comic ard ser timental appreciations of these girls, who are deciared to meet their fate in tak- ing heme the wash to bachelors. set down in the Parisian free hard workers, not averse to off now and then. Th em & the common working girl in and cleaniire: tenticn, but yci more grateful to the eye and the imagination, being unaffected and @ontented. ea day srade above cheerfulness In Fete Costame. What have the students of the university to do with washerwomen? Why should the budding aristocracy of art and letters make commen cause with them, done for two years past, and go parading With them through the Paris streets be- Meath their very fathers’ eyes, their moth- €rs, sisters und their future wives, who smile indulgentiy down on them from their baiconies, with all of Paris in a compact mob along the route? One answer is, we are in France. French logic and a simian &etivity push Latin quarter students into demonstrations of the ctalism. Tbels and Toulouse-Lautrec, whose clever- Ress approaches gen give deliberately and consiantiy the ils to pertraying scenes of misery and Stinging social Incquality? Why do the Younger poets, artists, journalists and all Bohemia smeer at the middie class, the bourgeosie. which they ng them- @elves, and say, “We are workingmen?” +. s — A Confettl Seller. Eocialism, at least, ts everywhere, Strong beyond velleving in the untvet 3 Where one young man becomes an ardent convert, others, doubtless, take the aughingly and even mock- there is a sentiment of half and a grade below her in pre-| as they have | Why do} full power of their pen- | + color of thi Jocke | acceptance, a sense of the inevitableness of | Socialism, that tinctures Paris life today, | | the educated and uneducated. And this, | | perhaps, is why the students and a million | ding of the leaves. After the masked balls of the opera, where the sub: ution of elec- tric Hght for gas has remo all langer, they are found hanging everywhere, even people on the route of the procession see a| from the great chandelier. | special joke, a special prettiness, or special sarcasm (according as they are disposed) in |this strange mixture of the washing tubs |and Latin grammars. | At 10 o'clock in the morning the aspect of | the boulevard is dull. From the Rue Drouot te the opera house—always the most con- gested section—there is a bare look, with but a few thousand pedestrians, an ab- sence of cabs, and with the old ladies of the newspaper kiosques placidly pottering around their stalls. For this one day they have added extra articles of commerce to | their usual trade. These are stout bags and baskets full of finely cut paper, like minute gun wads, of all colors, and rolls of colored peper ribbon, like that which comes out of the telegraphic stock-reporting “tickers” in American brokers’ offices. These are the “confetti” which will be thrown in people’s faces and the “‘serpentines” with which to lasso the passers-by, when the crowd has gathered. The blanchisseuses are coming! Along the Route. The best place tu see the forming of the parade is along that alley in the Champs Elysees between the river Seine and the summer restaurants. The general direc- tion is behind the Palais de 1I'Industrie. Here, under trees that give shade in sum- mer, but are now leafless, an immense crowd has gathered and being constantly | added to by spectators and paraders, in wagons and on foot, all dressed in fancy costumes. Here and there mounted police- men are stationed and an old-time Parisian figure—the licorice-water seller, with his can strapped upon his back—circulates among the crowd. | ‘The washerwomen come in cars and omni- | buses, each laundry with its benner and! | with the proprietor and his immediate family in carriages behind. The queen of queens—it is a Mademoiselle Marie Bon- | homme, the daughter of a proprietor (which | has created some dissatisfaction among | the actual washerwomen)—is taken around to her place in the procession behind a |mounted squad of the municipal guard. Still further behind are many gay and jlcud leundry cars, packed full of bare- | armed beauties, in pink and blue and white. | The police push the spectators back to give these cars room. Each wagon has its own ielans, and each its loud young man, already throwing out cut paper and witti- ms to the crowd, and each its clown, who descends and capers on the roadway. AU the laundry girls are coming, great and small, the frisky and the staid ones, those who will dance at the masked balls and those who go home to decent family | dinner parties. On the great red arms of these fine girls, so generously shown in these March days, one sees the tint of flesh exposed to air and water; and their mus- cles, which stand out in handsome welts, explain tke beating of the well-soaked clothes with wooden paddies, according to the laundry system of the French. They are dressed in ever: ible costume, from flower girls, with d-bitten roses, to vith a fan of red and black, Spanish girls, rt of ye and ri costume of street boys k, and bolero of black Some are in the The | | | | 1 | | As a Flower G | It is high noon. The procession should start. There is the usual confusion, added to by the attempts of advertising wagons to precede each other in the long train that follows the laundry cars. Last year one firm had a long string of fifteen tricycles tandem, each joined to the other by a stout rocess! “The mn is Coming.” It is half-past 1 o'clock before the march is under way. It has first to go around and pass the president's house (President Carnot contributes $200 to the expenses of the perade). Then it takes its course through | the densely packed Boulevard, past the Grand Hotel, alive with Americans and English at the windows, throwing such shooting comets of rapidly unrolling colored paper ribbons that the bare boughs of the | Boulevard are soon festooned like Christ- mas tree such showers of gay confetti veritable snowstorm rages in every © rainbow. One year ago the Club, on the other corner, is said ent 2.000 francs on the serpentines e serpentine is nothing but a roll per, such as is used by teleg- these old-fashioned countries, in where they do not read by sound. When | thrown, with one hard still grasping the | outside’ end of the ribbon, it unrolls, de- | seribing the curve of a parabola, or it'may | allowed simply to float down from a high ir y be mischiev- d round the body of a lady or a so as to wrap them up like The effect produced is charming. first used from the offices of the Havas, the great telegraph news One of the directors had the idea ¢ attraction to the Casino | de Paris and to the opera ball; but it soon feund its way on the streets, and now on | these days of carnival it {s for sale at ail the newspaper stalls. Originally the paper was blue, Uke that of o:dinary Paris tele- | window in a spiral, or it m: ceneern. | of giving the graphic dispatches, thin slips and printed. 3ut now it is made in every color, which es a prettier Alter the festivities reets of Parts, specially the trees, are . Some chronic grumblers have / even compluined that they prevent the bud- An Effect. This {s about the order of the procession: Republican guard, mounted; delesations of market men and women, trurapet dragoons in historical costumes, Cavaliers with ban- ners, bands, cars with children, cars of the queens, with grand escort; trumpeters, dele- gations from tne central market in great number, along with the mackets of Saint Germain and other quarters. It is under- stood that these are all in costume. A Latin Band. Next come the Latin Quarter students. Last year, which was their first, was their most successful turn-out for iso many years. Their frst group represented the five | faculties of the universily, “with their tributes.” Among the most abominably funny of these were the medical schools, with papier mache legs and arms, and bur- lesque surgical instrun borne on poles like trophies, with trusses, injectors,splints, bottles and giant stethescopes. Next came a historical cortege of the Puris students of all ages, from the time of Abelard and the | Basoche to the present age. As for Abel- | ard, they had a tableau of him, and the canon with a pair of scirrors, cars of the ribbonied washer sirls, hearts of the spe ink for fear th the process: w never end. But at oe clock in the afternoon tt has all passed by. The Boulevard, half wrecked, an! deep in colored paper, si to somethin: almost like a lull. In the ci been some ac nt, measur uken to heen complete > hav eral, the set up in ull tne ero: was never a Suier Paris sees the merriment 1 promiscuous ph helida gin as the noise of the street the more astour At the opera th a maske? bail, the crowd and nvise on the ts keep up till 4 o'clock in the morning ‘Then i careme is over. STE id COURT CLOTHES IN CHICAGO. The Gorgeous Suit Which an Irish- man Once Wore. From the Chicago Record. An ancient suit of court garments worth $4,000 is on exhibition in the windows of a West Madison street clothing store. It in- cludes a coast, waistcoat, knee breeches and a three-cornered hat, which arrived from Ireland less than two weeks ago. ‘The suit was once the property of J. J. O'Riley of County Caven, who wore it in the Irish parliament in 1774. The coat is of heaviest broadcloth of a deep maroon color and ts richly embroidered in solid gold bul- lion. Tara's harp, surrounded by a wreath of shamrock, is embroidered of the front, with a vine of the same em- broidered around the full long skirts of the RLING HEILLIG. garment. Another harp is wrought on.the back. Gold braid an inch in width finishes the edges. The waistcoat is of the same material and finish as the coat. The knee | breeches are of deep yellow plush, thick and of very fine texture. The butions are marked “P. White, Dublin.” The three- cornered hat 1s a black beaver, covered with gold lace and hung at the corners with gold tassels. The girth of the coat proves the owner to_ha proportions. The pale yellow are somewhat soiled from yellow plush garment bears parliamentary benches. 'T gold is entirely uniarnished. This re heirloom was brought into the We: been a man of son street store by one J. J. O'Rile namesake and direct descendant of the J. J. ORI of County Caven, Ir This man is a day iaborer, and the present hard times have forced him to attempt the sale of the ancestral regalia. eee Low Temperature. Shy of From Life. Winters.—“Why don't you ever take Miss | Chillson sleighing Frost.—“Too ccld. Winters.—* he lady or the weath- oer eee A Diplomat. From Puck. ‘I don’t want to go in; suppose that ugly old woman should sic the ; dogs on m¢?” Dusty ‘Tell her you called to see her until the | n each side | THE FOUR HUNDRE New York Society is an Aristocracy of Wealth, CULTORE HAS NO SHOW AGAINST MONEY | Women Who Make Capital Out of Their Social Position. THE APOTHEOSIS OF SHODDY iene Cen Special Correspondence of The NEW YORK, Evening Star. March 8, 1894. HE W VANDER- bilt houses on 5th avenue are forts in disguise. Their own- ers, Cornelius and William K., are two of the richest men in the world. The an- nual income of either of them runs into the millions. Their mon- ey, in dollar bills, sewn together, would carpet half of Man- hattan Island. Their combined wealth in silver would weigh 2,000 tons and would freight cars. In the shape of gold, five hun- dred strong men could hardly carry it. No wonder that the proprietors of this im- mense capital are afraid of anarchists. The dwellings which they have put up recently on New York's most fashionable thoroughfare are palaces, but, like many royal residences in Europe, they are forti- fied. Though they have not the air of strongholds, they are really such. They are built for defense. Within are gaileries of art and every luxury imaginable, but the outer walls are several feet in thickness, and what are to ail intents and purpos: dry moats surround the houses. These houses are s street behind stone fence: y could sus- tain a siege, and trom them an armed mob jmight be kept at bay for a period, rifles in the hands of a of retainers holding the assailants in check. The hoses, connected with boilers, which are used in winter to clear away the snow, would throw streams of hot water upon the enemy. The extravagant by New York never been mall army expenditure of money millionaires of today kas equaled in the world’s his- tory, unless possibly in imperiai With such plutocrats as the Astors and Vanderbilts leading society, every one must spend enormously to keep up. Those of moderate wealth cannot hold the pace, and | thus it has come about that the very ric have pushed everybody else out of the swim. Fashionable society in New York is con posed of millionaires. it represents an aristocracy of wealth and not of refinement j or culture. There are really not more than | 409 people in the * because only a few n afford are disposed to squander uisite rate. Three thou- for one dinner 1, ial expenditure, and diamonds are considered vors for the guests. tra e, the millionvire ork are astontsh- money at the re sand dollars yple of nious in many ways. For ex- very rich woman, who is a . stale flowers from the hh r regularly with unsold and left over. es of the highest fashion ex- the flower deale serve them rates for th the advert ment. Th they actually bank on t social re re ane Simple. Got up the ist furnish for e poor. | whoily i ge to tne | do not even them up. Let fon, as with One of the prin, each wi with flow | time artach ro the f pplied ake of the pres- A few years chant in New being that those vould not pay. A list of his debi ed in the news- p2pers, including the names of more than a ‘hundred of the best-known people in soct- ety. But even this did not induce them to | Hen the ms sgainst them; they wi isted to retain the cash and ‘to put up with the Shall it be said that the “smart set’ in New York is vulgar? Perish the idea! Yet what will be thought of a woman of fash- ion who, immediately after her daughter has accepted offer of marriage, tele- phones the news of the engagement from her house to every one of the principal newspapers. That very thing occurred here oniy the other day. While pi test publicity, these people are wildly anx- ious for it. ‘The notice of the pubic press is the very breath of their fashionable nos- trils. The debutante who gets her picture into the Sunday papers has scored a tri- umph and Is the envied of all the envious. The Love of Publicity. ‘Time was when a mother would not have desired to expose her daughter's likeness, reproduced on a large scale from a photo- graph, In the public prints for the criticism |of the mob. That epoch has passed by. So highly is this distinction estimated that a | who owed millionaire merchant, anxious to get into the “swim,” has been known to offer $1,000 for the pub n of his wife's portrait. But no mone y ill buy this sort of adver- jtisement from the nm ther selves extreme ters. If they were which are in such mat- would not spape xclusiv ot so the be able to obtain the pictures of really “swell” people for use in this way. That is ned portrait is such a “card” | why a publi: | for the original. It is an indorsement of so- cial standing. Some of th statements may sound like jan attack inspired by malice or envy. But | there i n editor in New York who will | Mot indorse them from his own knowledge jas absolutely truthful. ‘The able so- ciety sents the | apotheosis ive cirele | may alw a golden key. | Its mor At this very mo- ment a si proportions, of shodd are not good. andal of the la | involving two of the best-known families, is on the verge of breaking out into the light of publicity. Wh the explosion comes it is likel the newspaper: ‘There is a form of blackmail to which the fashionable people are thems {Its chief manager and beneiiciary is the steward of the millionaire household. A volume might be written on the family but- ler considered as a bird c y. He exacts from tradesmen commi: which they fura ‘Twenty-five per cent is his customary rake-off. The forist is one f his tribute payers. If he does not stand 1 deliver it is the worse for him. Last summer a New York flower merchant took charge of a very large and costly palm dur- ing the absence of the owner. he returned it in perfect condition. Two days later he got word that it was dead, having evidently been frozen. The butler, to whom no commission had been paid, ‘had killed it by pouring boiling water upon it, The florist had to replace the palm. Autocrat of the Dining Room, Last summer there was to be a great en- tertainment at the house of a multi-mil- lionaire in Newport. A florist, engaged by the owner for the occasion, started in to | construct the decorations. When he got as far as the dining room he was stopped by the butler, who said: “Not a step further do you go until you pay me 25 per cent of your bill The flower merchant declined to be held up in this fashion, and the result was that mily steward employed a man of his lection to decorate that part of the » which he regarded as his particular province. There is a certain caterer's establishment to fill many columns in load twenty-five | indefiaite | Kome. | s given | ending to de- | elves victims. | on everything | In the fall; in New York at which it has become the fashion to give dinners, lunches, teas, | dances, &c. The people who pay for these |entertainments are obliged to employ one | florist and no other. The latter pays a | commission of 25 per cent to the caterer. | The commission business runs through all the trades. Butcher and groceryman are not permitted to bring any food into the millionaire establishment unless they satis- fy the claims of butler and cook for per- centages. Prices charged in the bills hav become proportionately extortionate, so as to cover the rake off of the servants. So far as the grocery business is concerned, the combination has been broken up in Newport by a young society man named Garrison, who, having lost his money, set up a shop. He is said to be making a for- tune by selling goods at reasonable rates, having practically all of the fashionable evstom. The social position of the young man, who s always a great favorite, has not been altered by his going into trade. He gces everywhere, and it is no uncommon thing to hear some such conversation as this across the counter of his shop: “My dear Mr. Garrison, how do you do? I did not see you at the dance last night. The tea you sent me last week was not so geod as usual. Kindly send me a dozen bars of soap and five pounds of soda crack- I sappose you will be at Mrs. Vander- bilt’s reception this afternoon. Au revoir!’ Then they shake hands over an imaginary barb-wire fence, and the woman of fashion | flutters out to her carriage. Perhaps an- other one comes in. A Swell Who Sells Potatoe: “Oh, Mr Garrison!” she gushes, “why have you deserted us of late? I counted on | you for my little breakfast the other day, and you were so unfeeling as to send re- grets. That Roquefort cheese you sent me on Monday was delicious; have you any more of it? Too bad; I’m sorry. Kindly put me down for a barrel of flour and half a bushel of new potatoes. My, but that is an awful price for potatoes! Don’t you think that you can let me have them a iittle cheaper?” “Impossible, my dear Mrs. McFlimsy, I assure you,” responds the society mer- chant, blandly, as he tries the “ring” of one of the silver pieces which the lady has just taken from her purse upon the coun- ter. * “Well, good day, then!” says the cus- tomer. “I will see you at Mrs. Vanderbilt's this afternoon, of course. Don't forget the flour, for we are quite out of it.” Another barb-wire shake, and she is gone. On account of the excessive prices which the rich are obliged to pay for whatever they buy one of the richest of the million- aires has become so exasperated that he sometimes objects to reasonable charges for the things he purchases. It is said that in | Newport the hackmen drive away when he tries to summon a cab, because he beats them down to such an extent. Regarding . the matter of commiss'ons, the fact is worth mentioning that a well-known manager of | balls in New York gets all of the flowers |for his dinner parties free from the mer- chants whom he employs to furnish the floral decorations for the entertainments which he controls. | There is said to be more money for the | caterers and florists in a big Hebrew wed- ding than in any other form of entertain- ment in New York. On such occasious it is ‘not an unusual thing for the family of the bride to take a whole floor at Deimonico’s and literally crowd it with flowers. The rica Hebrews of this city spend nioney very lavishly. They are fond of good eating and good living generally, and they give gor- geous feasts. Their wedding presents are usually handsomer than any gifts that are to be seen at a Christian bridal. ———— Electricity in Photography. From the Pittsburg Dispatch. One of the “electric wonders” of last year was a serics of views of men and animals in motion. A number of photo- graphs that had been taken in rapid suc- nm were presented to the eye with t rapidity by the action of an electrical attachment, and the result was that the figures took on the appearance of life. Animals cou!d ‘be seen walking ning, and men exhibited the characteristic motions of fencing, boxing and many other exere’ The quickness necessary for pro- | curing the rhythmic succession of pictures made possible by electricity. Edward ridge, whose name has been as: ith this branch zen pted idems animals in 1 under the Pennsyly work out some ir this line of wors. j120 feet square | labo ory An idea of the exhaustive nature of Mr. Muybridge’s Investigations may be gath- ered from fact that during one sum- mer alone WK) phot were taken. ‘These comprised athletes in ail branches of photograph: vears aco, of that many the actions as- ion were errone- uspices of the Uni- he was enabled to ble developments josure of about nto an outdo. hia, most valu An Was made lot rt, bal hospital patient art at thei trades, and innumerable animals, wild jdomestic. Subsequently, all in the Philadelphia Zoological Gardens were photographed, us well as in |tamous horses of the da: loping or trotting at full speed, and it was atterward possible to analyze the action of each ard determine its special character- cs. Means by which thea results were d were strikingly simple. Thirty- photographs, tweive full views, tweive | with a fore-shortened view and twelve end | views were taken of every objec (eras being divided into three batteries of twelve each. Specially prepared plates were used, and the exposure made by each cam- ,era was one four-thousandth part of a | second. The shutters of the camera were closed ‘against strong tension and kept in place jby a magnetic catch. From this ran a wire to a cyiinder revoived by clockwork. | As this cylinder turned it caused the wire connected with each camera to release the | Magnetic catch that held the shutter. Three |12-wire cables, each running from one of |the batteries of twelve cameras, were so connected with the cylinder that as it re- | volved three wires (one wire in each of |the cables) were brought into clreuit sim- {ultaneously, and the same operation was repeated until all the wire had been con- nected with the cylinder and used for regu- lating the clock for the succession of pho- tographs and also for keeping a record of the time in which each set of the pho- tographs was taken. As each shuiter was released it was recorded by the chrono- graph. Before a photograph was taken the time in which it was desired to make the suc- cessive exposures would be determined and the clockwork would be adjusted accord- ingly. When the object had come into focus the operator pressed a button, twelve sharp and regular clicks would be heard and thir- ty-six photographs were taken. es Boys and the Cigaretie Vice. From Harper's Weekly. The use of cigarettes is not merely the use of tobacco, it is a vice by itself. In re- formatories where the cure of the opium, alcohol and cigarette habits is a busiocrs cigarette patients are not restricted from smoking cigars or pipes, which are re- garded as comparatively harmless. The cigarette works a special evil of tis own | Which tobacco in other forms does not | effect. This evil result may be due to drugs, or to the paper wrappers, or to the fact that the smoke of cigarettes is almost ai- ys inhaled into the lungs, while cigar smoke is not. As to that, let the experts decide; about the fact of the effect there is no doubt, and no dearth of evidence: No other form of tobacco eats into the will as cigarettes do. The adult man can carry off a good deal of poison of one kind or an- other without disaster, and his duty being fixed and his will formed, he is usually abie to make his minor vices subservient to his | more important obligations. And so it hap- | pens that it is a matter of constant servation in clubs, and wherever there are | intelligent men who allow themselves 3/1 the creature indulgences that they dare, that these experienced persons are cun- stantly “swearing off” cigarettes for longer or shorter periods and smoking cigars im- stead. The cigarette fetter begins to gail, and they fling it off. But young boys do not do that. They have not diserction enough, for one thing, and, for anuther, cigars cost too much for them and cannot | be smoked surreptitiously in a spare mo- ment. It is the inferna! cheapness of the cigarette and its adaptability for conceal- ment that tempt this school boy’s callow intelligence. ny of the most Many were gal- —— Family Prayer. From the Boston Herald. A bachelor pastor in a suburban city gave up his pulpit one Sunday to a misslonary, whom he invited to dine with him.» Very soon after they had entered the minister’ study the visitor asked for the host's fam- fly. “I have no family,” was the reply. “No family!" exclaimed the missionary; vhy don’t you pray for on The story Was too good to keep, and the | pastor, in telling it, remarked that he thought the missionary had good reason to | feel confidence in his method, as he was then living with his fourth wife. HOW TO CONVERSE Question is Put. IEISURE 1S THE FIRS? ESSENTIAL To the Production of a Good Con- versationalist. HOW TO LISTEN —— RE YOU dancing This was the remark overheard by the writer for The Star at a party the other night. There wes nothing — extraordi- nary in the question, except that it was put by a young girl to a man a good deal older than herself, to whom she had only just been introduced. He seemed rather taken aback at the ir- relevancy of the question, and answered: “Dancing! Oh, yes, I am fond of it, but I don’t think I have done any of it for ten or fifteen years. Now, you must go to a dance three or four times a week during the sea- son. “Six times a week, from week to week, up to Lent,” she answered. In explanation of the remark with which the young girl greeted the man upon her first introduction to him it must be known that she was deliberately setting out to make a conversation. To do this she had been told by some one who knew nothing about it that she must ask a leading ques- tion at once and that it was safe always to ask a society man if he was fond of danc- ing. The man in question unfortunately does not care a snap of his finger about dancing and counts any time spent in talk- ing about it as time lost. If she had asked him what hi® opinions on the Hawaiian question are he would have been interesied, but he would have known at once that she was trying to cut out a prescribed form of conversation, just as one would take a knife and cut a figure out of a block of wood. ot only would he have known this, but he would have resented it, and he would not have talked beyond the amount that is necessary for common politeness. The Right Vein Struck. It was at inis same party that another man was soon afterward introduced to another girl. They bowed, but that was not enough, for she at once frankly held out her hand to him. “Mr. Blank,” she said. “Why, you are the very man I want to meet. Mary Dash told me all about you last summer. And how is Mary, and is she coming to Washington? Sit down here and teli me all about her, und then tell me about yourself?” “Must I tell about her before I tell about myself?” “You may take your choice,” she said, laughing. “You see, I have known her and liked her so long that I mentioned her first, but perhaps—" here she broke off, hesitat- ing. “Perhaps what?” said the man. 1 mention you first after a FOND OF It is not necessary to follow that conver- sation any further. It is not particularly tmportant, and the bright young lady was beginning a dangerous little canter that oon develop into the full gallop of a filrtation. But the conversation sprang in- to being, hed no air of premeditation about it, and was, in consequence, pleasant. ‘That is one great secret of the art of con- make it pear spontaneous. it wears the appearance cf ation it is artificial and not agree- If the occasion does not inspire you to say something, then, of course, you must force rself not to be dumb, but it mat- ters little what you utter, because you and your companion will not enjoy yourselves anyhow. Leisure Essential. “What is the first essential in producing @ fine conversationalist?” the writer onec }asked a man who was himself quite famous for his ability in that direction. “Leisure,” he answered at once. “You may take a briliiant man or a great schoiar, but if you keep him eternally at work he will never be a good talker. For this he must have read widely, rather than Geeply, must have traveled, must have known many men, must have moved about in so- ciety, and all of these things require that a man should have leisure.” He eiaborated his idea further by sa‘ ing that he knew some men who were nat- urally great wits, who had naturally a great variety of tastes, yet who were al most as dumb as oysters when they dined out or found themselves at social gaiher- ings, the reason being that they were so busy making money that they had no ume to cultivate the lighter side of Mfe. But a profound scholar, he went on, was hardly any better. From constant, almost inces- sant, communing with heavy books such a man becomes heavy and ponderous in his conversation. He is absolutely without humor and he neither understands nor appreciates the pleasures of conversation. Poets, too, must be left out of the list of good talkers, for they are disposed to look at everything from a position high above the clouds and the affairs of earth do not interest them, nor do they, in fact, usual- ly_understand them. It is, then, the man of the world that is, as a general rule, the best talker. He must have an interest in and know something about nearly everything, but he must al- ways be careful not to talk too much. Two men came out of a room at the club one day, and were met by a third, who asked them what they had been doing in there. “Listening to Thomson,” they replied, with a wearied look. Now, the trouble with Thomson is that he not only talks well, but that he talks all the time. He is pleasant enough for a little while, but then he be- comes decidediy tiresome. Somebody else wants a chance. It is conversation most people desire and not a long lecture, how- ever good the lecture may be. Conversation Wreckers. And this brings us to the very important fact that conversation is quite as much listening as talking. To define what a good listener is is a very difficult matter. A man who is always stlent is apt to get the reputation of being stupid; yet some people by their silence encourage others to talk, while others, when they are silent, render it almost impossible for anybody else to say anything. You may begin with one of these people thus: “I am very much afraid that this country is going to the dogs.” “Yes,” says the painfully silent man, and it 1s not the encouraging yes or the ques- tioning yes, but a positive, downright, conclusive yes. What more can you say? Naturally you had reasons for saying you thought the country was going to the dogs. All that you needed was some word of curiosity or opposition to start you off on one of your greatest hobbies; but you are shut off before you have had a chance to say anything. You may try another tack, in hope of arousing interest, and say: “And yet how much better off we are than any other country. “Yes,” comes the reply again, in precisely the same tone as before. If you express a mild dissent, people of this kind close the matter by a positive dissent. If you ask of them if he agrees with you he al- ‘S$ Says yes; if you suggest the possi- bility of a negative answer being desired he silences all doubts by saying no. What is the matter with these conversation wreckers? They are decidedly tantalizing, and before you have been with one of them ten minutes you have either lapsed into a sullen silence yourself or you have given vent to the most extraordinary and con- tradictory remarks, in the vain hope of arousing an interest in your companion. The truth is that these people are stupid— that is all. They don’t exactly make fools of themselves, for to be a fool implies the existence of inferior or erratic brain power, but they make you believe that their heads are stuffed with cotton where other people have brains, Silent, bat Suggestive. But the silent person who is all suzges- tion and sympathy is a very different be- ing. His yes is one that draws you out, and his no chimes in with your own. You may sometimes go on with one of these people for hours without realizing that you | Instances Where the Wrong Leading | 19 j have done all the talking. The silent per | son has really enjoyed it, for it is very hard for a person to dissemble in these matters. Sometimes this can be done, how- ever. The reader may recall the anecdote of Mme. De Stael, who conversed with one of these silent men for two hours, and then went away and pronounced him a very clever man before she had di that he was deaf as a post and had not heard a single word that the distinguished lady had iressed to him. But he had sat silent id gave every appearance of being interested, which was quite sufficient. When the silent but sympathetic person is a woman the charm is irresistible. It is then that you are likely to turn heart secreta. “There is no use im talking’ bots wecrets. ere no use in about ordinary affairs with a woman of this kind. There are so few of them that when you meet one who is willing to give you her full attention you are very apt to be drawn along by an almost trresistt! impulse into saying perhaps more than you had intend- WELL |e4 to say. You realize this afterward realize, in an uneasy sort of way, that have talked too much and told too m' But it a very iely that the lady forgives you, since you have done the very thing that she intended to make you do. Conversation of Women. Necessarily what has been written here relates to conversations among men oF among men and women. What women say. to each other when there are no men about is a mystery which men can only guess at or get second-hand, and possibly they 60 not get the whole of it. For one thing. how- ever, it is probable that they talk more about books than men do, and for the very Sood reason that they read more than mem do. And they talk more about domestic af- fairs, for they are more familiar with them than their husbands or brothers are. When @ man alludes to the fact that the famill cook has left he does it by way of come plaint, but when a woman tells her friend about it it is with a view to getting another cook. There is 2 good deal in this idea, and it must be admitted that women’s conversa- tion is apt to take a practical turn. It is said that they talk a great deal about dress, also, but it is in order to gather ideas or impart them, and, inasmuch as they are the real artists of life, dress is more im- portant to them than it is to men. They discuss one another, too, but the less men Say on this point the better, for some of permcnlgre — of the first order, and are 80 much tickled when they are hearing a good story told at the expense of Some man that they do not love. INHABITED MOSTLY BY LUNATICS. The Town of Gheel, Fin: ders, and Its Curt Treatment. There are cities and towns built upon the water, or rather raised above the wa- ter, like Venice, Stockholm and the “pile vil- lages” of the Orinoco and Venezuelan coast; but, according to the Pitwsburg Dispatch, the most curious town on the earth's sur. face is Gheel, in Flanders. This town a not strange because of its peculiar archi- tecture or location. It is a thorough-going Flemish town, consisting of a straggling roup of houses and a lazy, heed-no-tomor- row, semi-almost-purely agricultural Popu- lation. The reader will naturally ask: “Then why is it strange?” It is because of ite Population. Gheel is not populated as Ae any other city of the universe. It is a lt- tle place of some 5,000 people; but of this 5,000, in 1892, 2.017 were lunatics. The pe culilarity of the treatment of these is that they are allowed to wander unconfined, as though under no surveil. lance whatever. They mix with the town- people, partake in their amusements and festivities, and not infrequently assist them in their daily vocations. Lunatics of every sphere in life are found in Gheel—princes, nobles, merchants, peasants—and the inhab- tants board them according to their ability to pay. It is well to explain that in this unique town the insane are located or domi- ciled among the inhabitants, and not con- fined in an asylum. Of course, violent pa- tients are not allowed to dwell in the cot- tages of the people. There is an institu- tion for this class of lunatics, but the au- thorities of Gheel do not invite such pa- tients, and, a: a@ consequence, very few violent maniacs sre found either in the town or asylums of Gheel. The govern. ment has instituted a commissign for this purpose. This commission also uses the power of vetoing the admission of the in- sane into the commune of Gheel. They do net desire intractable or incurable Hents—no matter what be their station tm life. And, having received a patient imto the community, they use a vigilant survell- lance over his or her movements be necessary to have the lunatic confined in the asylum or allowed to board among the inhabitants. Because of this commis- sion, which consists of the most famous doctors in lunacy in Northwestern Europe, violence, undue excitement and all kinds of improprieties among the patients are well guarded against, and,as a consequence, the little community lives on in its laggy existence in peace. ——__-e-+_. TOOK THE CAR. How Two Englishmen Succeeded tm Getting Lower Berths. From the Los Angeles Herald. There is a decision and energy about Englishmen sometimes which arouses admi- ration. A case in point occurred on Mon- day. Two men, whose clothes, monocies and accent forcibly announced their nation- ality, called at the ticket office of the South- ern Pacific railroad and asked for two low- er berths on the train to San Francisco, “They are all gone. You can have uppers, though,” was the response. “Oh, no; doncher know me friend is beast- ly ill, and he cahn't go unless he has a low- er berth. He must have one, doncher know?” “All right, if you must, you must,” Swered the official. “They will cost $260, We have an extra car here put it in for you at that berths They paid the money, the empty Pullman was coupled onto the train, and the boys at the depot say that before ‘the cars left the Englishmen had made the porter make up every berth in the car. They said they had eet ed each of the sections and they pro- po: to come as near as possible to getting their money's worth. see The Begtia Monster, From the St. Louis Globe-Democrat. “They say that there is a beneficial use for every created thing,” said F. R. How. land, at the Lindell. “But I would like to discover some useful purpose that the beglia monster serves. 1 never saw but two or three of them, but they did not create any desire upon my part to see eny more. They do not have to bite or sting, but can kill by simply blowing their pol- Sonous breath upon a victim, and in this way they kill anything that comes within the reach of the effects of their poisonous breath. An Indian in Arizona will run for miles if he sees one of these reptiles, ond hardly considers himself safe until in bis own wigwam. They are found in but one place, 1 believe, and why this localiey should have been selected to produce @ monstrosity 1 cannot imagine. Those I have seen have only been a very few incnes in length, but I would rather take my chances with a boa constrictor or even ® python 20 feet long.” = Extract From Marriage Notice. “The bridegroom, who appeared extremety was supported by his friend, Ma,