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14 THE AMERICAN GIRL Her Conquests in the Ranks of the Diplomats. SOME FAMOUS FOREIGN ALLIANCES . Washington Girls Capture Big Mat- rimonial Prizes. THE ELVERSON MARRIAGE * @¥ritten Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE MARRIAGE OF M. Patenotre, first French ambassador to the United States, to Miss Elverson, re- calls the historical fact that M. Genet, the first French min- ister ever sent to this country, married an | American girl, Cor- nelia Tappan Clinton, daughter of the gov- ernor of New York. | This was just about | me hundred years ago, and it appears as | though fate intended a perpetual friend- ship between the United States and France. | Some seem to think that the Washington girl ts losing her luck—that the big matri- Monial prizes are now attracted to other markets. In the case of the French am- (Dessador, M. Patenctre, this ts not strictly | ighe truth, for Miss Elverson was, in a cer- | tain sense, a Washington girl. Her mother, ‘whose maiden name was Duvall—Sallie | Duvali—was born and raised in this city. “Here her marriage to Mr. Elverson took place. The old manor house of Clifton, ebové Georgetown, was purchased by Mr. Elverson about twenty years ago. It has wince been rebuilt, the original mansion baving been destroyed by fire. Mrs. and Miss Elverson have always Rept a home at Clifton and when on this side of the water have passed as much of ‘their time at Clifton as in Philadelphia. They have never taken any part in Wash-| ‘fngton society, so that when Madame “Patenotre, as the French ambassadress, re- ceives the polite world of Washington, it “will be truly her debut here. Some Famous Alliances. + Im the olden days it was bo uncommon event for distinguished foreigners to find theif wives in Washington. The Marquis @e Montholon, son of the marshal who ac- “eompanizd Napoleon to St. Helena, married the daughter of Gen. Gratiot, chief of the engineer corps of the United States army. At the time of the marriage Montholon was wecretary of the French legation. Subse- @uently he was sent here as minister under Napoleon III. The Montholons then lived im the Corcoran house, now occupied by Senator Brice. They entertained in the most superb manner, and Montholoa cover- | ed himself with diplomatic honor, for he ‘was France's representative in the dificult ‘@ays of Maximilian’s occupancy of Mexico. "vith the downfail of the French emperoz, “Monthvlon disappeared from. the public; Ute of France. Cue of our ministers to | Mr. Washburn, was reiated to the } oe. His son, Gratiot Washburn, in Chicago three or four years ago. In the days of Gen. Jackson, M. Pageot, | the French minister, married one of the! Belles of the capital, Miss Eyre, daughter | of Wx. B. Lewis Eyre, one of the audit- ers of the weasury. A daughter of Mrs. General Eaton (Peggy O' 1), the famous Deauty who broke up Gen. Jackson's cab- t, married one of the secretaries of the ench legation, who subsequently inherit- ed a title. Miss Sue Benton, youngest sister | of Mrs. J. C. Fremont and daughter of; Senator Benton of Missouri, married Baron | Botlleau, charge d’ affaires of France in Mhis city, anc afterward French minister to | Baron Boilleau became involved in ne of Fremont's railroad schemes that brought him into legal difficulties in France. proved disastrous to him and his “wife. Both are uow dead. American Beauty Conquered. Tie first Turkish minister ever sent to the United States, Blacque Bey, was blest ‘with an American wife. She was a charm- ing woman of many accomplishments. A teamed musician herself, the musicales at the Turkish legation were the most dis- tinguished social events of the administra- tion of Andrew Johnson. M. Blacque evidently nad @ prejudice ‘n favor of American women, his first wife having = a@ daughter of the celebrated Dr. ‘Walentine Mott of New York. Mr. Baltazzi, ty of the Turkish legation under M. ue, married a New York belle, and, i ee he is still Turkish consul at New ‘ork. Nearly every one in Washington ie miliar with the name of Potestad. Oe many years the name was always repre- —— in the Spanish legation. The first ish minister, Potestad, married Miss Poters of Virginia, an idealiy beautiful wo- man, who had a brilliant career in Wash- society. Senor Calderon de la Barca Inarried an American lady while Spanish a to the United States. Madame ‘aideron de la Barca was a ncar relative of Mr. Carlisle, one of the plaintif’s law- ers in the Breckinridge case. Hence, his Epanish surname of Calderon. Count Ber- tmatti, for years Italian minister to the United States, married a beautiful widow from Mississippi, Mrs. Bass, who at the time was residing in this city. As Countess Bertinatti, the Aierican woman ably sus- tained the reputation of her countrywomen for beauty and elegance at The Hague and et St. Petersburg. Count Bertinattl, to the end of his life, was employed in the diplo- matic service of his country. After his death Countess Bertinatti returned to the ‘United States. A couple of years ago she @pent the season in Washington. A May-December Match. Count Sartiges, the French minister, and Count Banuclos, the Portuguese minister, married American women. Both inherited @oney from the late Allen Thorndyke Rice, Who died suddenly in New York, just as he was about to sail for Russia, to which Ountry President Harrison had appointed him minister. We have all been told over and over again the romantic story of the je of Miss Williams of Georgetown to Count Bodisco, the Russian minister. The le was sixteen, the groom sixty! The . Miss Jessie Benton, afterward Mrs. Fremont, was fifteen years of age: the groo.usman was James Buchanan, Sec- etary of State. It appears to have been a May ember picture all the way ugh. The marriage turned out happily. In Oak Hill cemetery there stands an im- Monument to the old minister's memory. His widow married an officer of the British army and for many years made her home tn India. The old Williams house on Georgetown Heights has gone almost to jfack and ruin, but the mansion in which isco lived is in a fair state of a aan © of preserva- Baron Stoeckl, Russian minister to the United States, married a Miss Howard of Springfield, Mass. They resided in the house on the corner of I street and Connecticut avenue. This house was the home of the Misses Caldwell of Catholic University fame Guring the year they lived tn Washington. The younger of the sisters, Miss Lena Cald- Well, married Baron Zedwitz of Germany, ‘The nuptial service, invested with all the mp and ceremony of the Catholfe ritual, place in the chapel of the university, which was the special gift of the bride. But no foreign minister's wife ever cre- ated such a hubbub in Washington society as did Madame Catacazy, the golden-haired wife of the Russian minister of Gen. Grant's first administration. With her florid style of Beauty, her dashing manner and many ac- complishments, the brilliant foreigner was cutting a wide swath in Washington high life when some one wit mveniently Fetentive memory identi* fair Russian as the occupant of a pictures: at Bladensburg while C azy ary of legation. This ’ history was told to Mrs. who told it to Mrs. Grant. It was a little tco m can matrons. A di lowed. The Russi formed that Cataca upon by Preside iplomatic career. years ago. The on Catacazy eptsode remains pase occupied on I street, corner 0} Méth, opposite Franklin Park. lt is still | THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, MAROH 31, 1894—TWENTY PAGES. occastonally called the Catacazy house. Miss Sophie Radford, daughter of a dis- tinguished naval officer, married Mr. Meisner, whose acquaintance she made whilst he was an attache of the Russian legation. They now reside in St. Peters- burg, where Mr. de Meisner holds a posi- tion at the court of the czar. Mrs. de Meisner has won considerable fame as an authoress The interesting little novel, “The Terrace of Mont Desier,” was writ- ten by her several years ago. The Italian Princess Bancassia was American girl, Miss Hickson Fields of New York. She is now a lady-in-waiting on the Queen of Italy. Countess Waldersee, wife of Von Moltke’s successor, is an American. We have here residing in this city the Countess Esterhazy, widow of a son of the princely house of Esterhazy. The Countess Ester- hazy met her husband in Washington while be was on diplomatic duty here. She spent the greater part of her married life in Vienna. Count Esterhazy died about ten years ago and the countess subsequently returned to her home in this city. Before her marriage Countess Esterhazy was a Miss Carroll. ————- ++ -_____ PHIL SHERIDAN’S APOLOGY. ‘The Amende Honorable to the Captain ef His Escort. George A. Forsythe in the Chicago Tribune. On this particular morning of which I write, for some good reason, the hour ep- pointed to move was earlier than usual. Four o’clock found the headquarter tents | struck and the general and staff mounted, ready to move out—but no escort. A mo- ment or two later, and, amid the blare of bugles and roll of drums, the troops started, and the road was filled with the marchiag i army. Still no escort. Turning impatiently to his chief of staff, Col. J. W. Forsythe, the general said: “What does this mean? Where is the escort? Was the commanding officer no- tified?” ‘ “Certainly,” was the reply. “Send an aid to find out the trouble.” An officer dashed off to where the escort was encamped, on a little stream a few hundred yards away, and returned, sayin: that the escort was saddling in haste, und would be there in a few moments. Shortly after the squadron dashed up at a gallop, and, fronting into line almost on a run, Capt. Clafflin saluted, and, chief of staff, was about to speak, when he a interrupted by Gen. Sheridan, who said: Capt. Clafflin, when I issue an order to move at 4 o'clock it means sixty minutes past 3, not nearly twenty minutes past 4 ‘This must not occur again, sir.” jut, general——* began the captain. Vo excuse, sir. We have lost time endugh already. Move out.” And the general | urged his horse into a trot to overtake the corps with which headquarters was to march during the day. A few moments afterward one of the act- ing aids turned to the officer he was riding beside and said: “Great Scott! All this de- lay_was really my fault.” “What do you mean?" “The chief of staif ordered me to inform Claflin of the hour of march, and I ne- glected to do it.” “The mischief you did.” “What shall I do?” He knew well enough, and in a moment more he had pushed to the head of the staff and re-| ported his dereliction of duty to the com- manding general himself.” On his return the question was asked, “Well, what did the chief say?” “That's the worst of it," was the reply, “Not a single word.” “Nothing? “Absolutely nothing!" Then, after a pause, “I wonder if he will send me back to my regiment.” “I don’t think so,” was the response. Nothing more was said of the affair dur- ing the day, to my knowledge, but I afte: chief of staff regarding his failure to de- liver the order, and apologized to Capt. Claffiin for the position he had unfortu- nately placed him in. taf! were mounted, he suddenly rode out toward the front of the escorting squadron as it stood in line awaiting orders, and, fac- ing Capt. Clafflin, he leaned slightly for- werd and said: “Capt. Clafflin, yesterday morning I re- proved you sharply in the presence of your command and of my staf for what I thought was a neglect of duty. I have since ascertained that you were not at all in fault In the matter, but that the fault was on the part of one of my staff, who ne- glected to deliver an order to you, and,” raising his cap and bowing courteously, “I bes your pardon, sir.” “General,” began the captain, “I already knew——” but the general had replaced his cap, and, touching it in answer to the ca) tain’s salute, turned quickly away and gave the order, “Move out.” I do not think that the officer in fault ever forgot the occasion, and I know that Capt. Clafflin never did, for we talked the matter over in his camp in northern Texas the year before he died. Turning to me at the close of our conversation, he said: “Only think of it! The commanding general of the army publicly apologizing to the captain commanding his escort for having mistakenly reprimanded him the day before. I could have died for him that day.” The Kaiser’s Young Sons Being Care- fully Trained to Be Good Soldiers. The six little princes of Germany are all great athletes. They go through exercises which are calculated to develop and s_rength- en the muscles and do everything to make them grow into strong men and fine sol- diers—which is their father’s greatest ambi- tion for them. The crown prince is a slim blonde boy. of twelve, who has already entered the army and has his first degree. The youngest boy is five years old, and, accord- ing to the Philadelphia Times, 1s the hand- somest of the royal princes. His name is Oscar. Frederick, the second prince, who was named for his much beloved grand- father, is also a fine-looking boy. The Crown Prince Wilhelm is the plainest and most delicate-looking of the royal children. The new baby, Wilhelmina Maria Augusta Leopoldine (and a few other names, too), 1s a very ordinary-looking baby, not half as pretty as your little baby brother or sister. Wilhelmina has very little hair on her round little head, a decided pug nose and a very long and Gaelic upper Mp; but at present, being the only young lady in the family. she is the belle of the palace. The young princes all ride, skate, dance and swim well and so far have occupied very few hours of their days in the school room. They are all rather musical and are very fond of having school room theatricals, as well as visiting the theater, which means their father’s private performances. ——+e+—___ Written for The Evening Star. THE GENERAL FESTIVAL. lL Greeting to the Month. Hail, fickle April, to thy freakish reign!— Let us not want thy sunny, silvery showers, Nor driving sleet deform the foolish flowers, And make them wish they were but buds again. Let hylas, birds, and Spring bards pipe amain, Sly Cupid's arrows in thy blooming bowers Hit silly youngsters, and thy golden hours Gladden the farms that of bard times complain. Q! childlike month, who mak'st all ereatures dote With hope and Joy; dear to us fools of earth, Where all have parts on Folly’s stage to play; We welcome thee, queen of the motley coat, Whose days be all full-fraught with careless mirth, ‘Though, certes, most we prize thine AN Fools'Day! z Ballade of All Fool's Day. Beshrew the men who on such a day as this, the geveral festival, should affect to stand aloof. I am nowe of those sueakers. * * * What! man, we have four quarters of the globe on ou least computation —CHAREES Laum “i * te Hall to the day we celebrate!— Her festival again is here, ‘Whose powerful sway no ages bate. Whose siren voice charms every ean. Though hers are all days in the year, On one we special homage pay To the great goddess we revere— Hurrah, hurrah for All Pools’ Day! When Adam first with Eve did mate, ‘Twas then began the long career Of fovis of love, hope, time gnd fate, And phantom toys we all hold dear. What's wisdom ?—in this earthly sphere There's no such thing, search where ye may; In Eden it was not, that’s clear— Harrah, burrab for All Fools’ Da; Mlustons rule our mortal state, And, eradie to the bier, All ts mirage, and, soon or late, ‘The fair scenes fude and disappear, Though to the smile succeeds the tear, In Moria’s paths still on we stray, Nor ever dream an end is uear— Hurrah, burrab for All Fools’ Day! ENVOI. Since by Wlusions, Fool Virtue’s alone let us obe And be, still fools, of right good chee + Hurrah, burrah for All Fools’ Day! —W. L. SHOEMAKER, we steer, turning to the) | ward learned that the officer spoke to the | “ize A MOB INVASION The Baltimore Toughs Who Came Here in 1857. TIMELY FACTS FOR COXEY'S ARMY The City Better Able to Cope With Such Demonstrations. JOHN F. COYLE’S ACCOUNT Written Exclusively for The Evening Star. HE PROPOSED IN- vasion of Washing- ton by Coxey’s army of the commonweal reminds me of an in- vasion from Balti- more thirty-seven years ago on the Ist of June. The recep- tion these invaders and their friends here met with was so inhospitable that since that day our | city has been singu- | larly free from such intrusion. The mu- | Bicipal election, which occurred on the first Monday of June, 1857, was a day of great excitementas party feeling was very strong and that feeling was increased tenfold when the Know Nothing organization was in ex- | istence. Previous to that time the political party lnes between the whigs and the democrats were Strongly drawn, but the | excitement was at an end when the elec- tions were over. The advent of the Know Nothing order arrayed friend against friend ) and long after election day the bitterness remained. The whigs had for years held | Sway here, carrying the elections on almost every occasion; but when the new order of | opposition arose an upheaval of political parties took place. Many whigs left the party to which they had long held allegiance, and became demo- crats, as that party declared war against this new political organization. The suc- | ee of the new party for a time was very great. It elected members of Congress and Senators, held the balance of power in both branches of Congress, elected governors of one or two states, and swept all the officials of this city from office, electing the mayor and a large majority ‘of the city council. | The first defeat they met was in Virginia, | when the late Henry A. Wise was elected governor of the state. The democrats elect- , ed Dr. William B. Magruder mayor of this city in 1856, and the election of Mr. Buch- eran to the presidency reinstated th reel y 8 e party An Exciting Contest. The election which took place here on the Ast of June, 1857, was for collector of taxes, | Surveyor and members of the board of aldermen and common council. James F. Halliday was the democratic candidate for | collector, and William Dixon the Know Nothing candidate. William Forsyth, our present surveyor, was the democratic can- didate for that office, and as a naturalized he had arrayed against him all the | power of the Know Nothing organization. Full tickets were nominated for the two" | boards by both parties, and the contest was | election a party of the worst element of roughs from Baltimore arrived by the early train, and were provided with breakfast at the “park,” then in the suburbs, and marched to the polls of the first precinct in the fourth ward, a democratic stronghold. | AS soon as the polls opened the rioting be- gan. The crowd of rioters was swelled to a thousand or fifteen hundred men, and the attack was made on the voters in line of approach to the polls. Stones were thrown and several shots fired, and the polls closed. Richard Owens, commissioner of the ward; Capt. Goddard, Capt. F. A. Klopfer, Capt. Baggott of the police and others were struck and severely hurt. The police were powerless against such a crowd, und the mayor was appealed to to seek aid from the President to preserve the peace. A letter was addressed to the President by the mayor, and affidavits sub- mitted of the extent of the riot, and the re- quest was made that the United States ma- rines be ordered out to preserve the peace. The mayor was referred by the President, Mr. Buchanan, to the Secretary of the Navy, who ordered Gen. Henderson, then commandant of the marine corps, to place two companies of marines under orders of the mayor for the preservation of the peace. The knowledge that the marines had been ordered out increased the excitement. The rioters obtained a cannon from the Ana- costia engine house, and planted it in front of the polls, corner of Massachusetts ave- nue and 7th street. The marines halted on the corner of 7th and H streets, two blocks from the pol! The mayor, accompanied by Maj. Tyler, who commanded the ma- rines, went to the polls and ordered them to be opened. The mayor addressed the mob, ordering them to give up the cannon and’ disperse, and received, in answer, curses and threats and riotous demonstra- tions. The mayor then gave them five min- utes to disperse. Stones were then thrown and renewed threats, and the mayor then directed Maj. Tyler to capture the cannon and disperse the mob, The Mob Conquered. The marines were rarched up in front of the polling place, when the rioters assatled them with stones, and some shots were fired and a marine wounded in the face. Maj. Tyler then ordered the marines to charge and take the cannon, which they did at double-quick, and a volley from the second company ended the riot. The riot- ers fled in every directicn, melted into thin air ke the witches in Macbeth. When the smoke cleared away it was found several persons had been killed and many wounded, but, as usual, the victims were innocent spectators. Messrs. Alston, Deems, Dow- ling and two colored men, Neale and Red- ding, were among the killed, and many persons were wounded, some of them se- verely. Rumors that reitforcements were expected of the same element from Balti- more caused the marines to march to the Baltimore and Ohio railroad to welcome them, but they did not come. The polls were opened immediately after the mob had dispersed and voting resumed. The re- sult of the election was an overwhelming success for the democratic ticket. Fearing a renewal of the disturbance at night, a -battery, under command of Maj. French, was brought here from Fort McHenry. The disturbance was not renewed, and since that day Washington has been singu- larly free from riots or any demonstrations that a few policemen could not quell. Looking over the list of members elected to the boards of aldermen and common council, I find but four of them alive today, Messrs. Chas. Abert, Robert A. Waters, Matthew G. Emery and Richard H. Clarke. The latter gentleman is now a resident of New York. The surveyor then elected, the venerable William Forsyth, retains his office and has done so under all the changes which have been wrought in our municipal gov- ernment. No District Militia Then. At that time there was no military or- ganization here, as I remember. The Wash- ington Light Infantry was in existence as a company, and the only one, I think. Not long after this occurred Congress reorgan- ized the District militia, and the adminis- tration of Mr. Buchanan closed in the shad- ows of the approaching war between the states. The present military organization will doubtless be powerful enough to wel- come the army of the commonweal and protect the Capitol from being overrun by the many thousands of peaceful visitors should Coxey’s anticipations be realized. The auxiliary guard, which was then the police force of the city, was organized dur- iug the administration of Mr. Tyler, and its creation arcee from a demonstration made by some zealous whigs, who resented the vetoes of the bank bills proposed and passed by Congress in 1841. The police force as now organized was one accom- plished during the administration of Col. Berret, and it has been increased by sub- sequent acts of Congress until it has be- come at the present time second to no po- lice force in this country. JOHN F. COYLE. see No Har Speech. Prom the Boston Transcript. “Did her governor say anything harsh to you when you asked his consent?” “No, indeed; I cannot find any fault with anything he said He simply kicked me out.” | @ most exciting one. On the mornin, he | The next morning, after the general and | menticel | Mawse Aleck, en’ I fell ter Miss Sallle. ROXIE = SWEET —BOM-BYE; BY MRS. A. W. BISSELL, ‘We used to wonder where or how Roxie first came into existence. She herself said she had been a woman ever since she began to live, and that was all we knew of her past until something happened. We were a trio of school girls, and Roxie, the old black washerwoman, who had left her adopted town, a few miles away, and come to the springs to make her fortune by doing laundry work for Miss Faucher’s school. Roxie was not liked by people of her own race at the springs,who called her “bigity,” and she gloried in their estimate of her pride, doing all she could to merit it by switching and strutting and holding a high head when they were about, calling them “ugly as ho'made sin and po’ Buckra nig- gers,” leaving them to infer that she had belonged to “quality,” although she never gratified the curiosity of anybody by say- ing so. She made no friends except with us three, and the other girls wondered what we saw in the homely, surly old woman to even tolerate. But Roxie was an interest- | ing character to us, and the mystery she | managed to throw about herself had its at- waction, Roxie had literary aspirations, though she did not know a letter of the alphabet, and we Were ambitious for her. To the Light- house, a religious weekly published by a colored clergyman in her adopted town, went many gushing effusions, bearing the name “Roxie Scales.”. We wondered why she persisted in using this instead of Roxie Friday, her name, and remonstrated with her, arguing that the articles were too good to appear under a pseudonym and she not have the credit; but she was firm. These articles were on all manner of sub- jects. The one she seemed most concerned over was written in her house, at her dicta- | uon, entitled “A Day in Tennessee.” We | worked industriously, doing our best, while | Roxie criticised right and left, made many | flourishes of impatience, and said she didn’t believe we had ever heard of Tennessee in | our lives. She ordered the best sentences cut out, because they were a little exaggerated, | and she was more exacting than wus ever | Miss Ross, who examined our essays and} overlooked grammatical errors purposely made to test her competency. Now and again Roxie and her huge flat- iron would make an angry plunge in our direction, but she always stopped before getting too near, with the words, in a mod- ified tone, “Chillen, I'se s'prised at yo’ wis- dom." She meant our lack of it. Her house was a mile from the college, in the prettiest,wildest spot about the springs; and on her front a card with the words, “This is my busy day,” hung from early Monday morning until Saturday night. On Sundays she would sit at her little parlor organ and sing “Sweet Bom-Bye” to an acompaniment improvised for the occa- sion. She never varied her song, but the accompaniment was as changeable as the wind. We three would stand at the window and, with tears in our eyes, peep in upon the lonely old woman, singing her heart out and her breath away, her body swaying, | her head in motion, her attitude and voice | a desperate appeal to the God the poor soul secretly loved to send that bom-bye, that long-delayed “Sweet Bom-Bye.” Roxie never laughed or smiled. She had forgotten how, she said. Her countenance was the same under all circumstances, even in her stormlest moods. Having no children of her own, she had taken in, one at a time, the homeless, friendless babies she had heard of, and kept them until they were old enough to earn a living. There was one with her at the springs, a cunning little pickaninny, and to it “Miss Shiday” was a wonderful woman. Roxie never scolded Beck, except for loitering on the way to and from the post office. Beck's Instructions had been to-remind the absent-minded postmaster, on Saturday, that the Lighthouse should be forthcoming, and her daily query, “Any dem Lighthouse papers fer Miss Shiday?” came to be a by-word with the patrons. One day we went to Roxie’s, and were somewhat surprised to see an old negro, ragged and tattered, seated on her front steps, his hat beside him, his face in his hands, his whole appearance one of hum- ble misery. His broken sobs fell mournfully upon the quiet air, and even the mocking birds that always sang in the crooked old apple trees around the door had been frightened into silence. We went to the little wash house, expecting to find Roxie over the tubs, up to her elbows in soap suds, when there she sat on a stool, look- ing every bit as miserable as did the old fellow on the step. “What is the matter?’ we asked. She took but a feeble notice of our pres- ence, and went on wringing her hands, rocking herself to and fro, and making a little doleful noise that sounded very like the cry of the mourning doves, which kept up their ceaseless “Ooh, ooh-ooh” back of the college and made us homesick. “Aunt Roxie, tell us what troubles you,” we said. “Can't we help you?” She reached out her hands in a helpless, entreating way, and we rushed to her and knelt about her, begging her not to cry, for Roxie crying was as pitiable a sight as I ever looked upon. “Honey,” she whispered, “dis ole woman is mighty sorful. You see dat ole man on de step?” “Yes,” we answered. “Who ts he?’ She did not reply, but continued to moan and stare into vacancy with wide-open, tear-dimmed eyes. Presently she got up, went to the, litle window, and looked at the old fellow, then came back, murmuring, “It's him, it's him, atter all dese yurs, it’s him.” came the plaintive cry, “oh, “Roxie,” Roxie!’ age staggered to her feet, then sank down “Dat's somebody whut I uster know,” she whispered, cautiously, “bac’ in Ten- n’see, long "go. Dat’s all, ‘honey.” ." we said, think- ing she would rather be by See misthken, egy me “Dis ole woman's sutten en’ sho’,” she returned. “Ain't I done toted dem luks in my head all dese yurs? Ever’ day I says ter myse’f, ‘Dere’s a gray ha'r, en’ dere's a wrinkle, en’ dere’s a crooked laig, en’ dere's a stoop-ed bac’,’ en’ it’s all so. Dat's de same ole nigger I'se been totin’ ‘roun’ a head = acadyin’ over all dese yurs,”” e went to the window again, i back and sat down. seep ears “Tell us about it,” we said, “and we can help you.” ~ roe “Yuse done done all,” she “you brung him hyur, I’ know." That was startling; we wanted an expla- nation. 5 “Hit wuz dem pieces ter de papers, Dat yuz de reasin I wrote ’em, so's he'd see “em, en’ know I wuz livin’ ‘en’ doin’ well. En’ dat’s whur Roxie Scales kems in, whut you argified so much over, I wuz a Scales, en’ I is a Scales—Friday is a ole med-up name. But I didn’t reckin he'd kem track- in’ down hyur when I hed de paper sont ter him,” “Why don’t you go and speak to him, Roxie? He has come a long distance to see you. Go, Roxte.” “I wudn't speak ter him fer dis yeth,” she cried. “Dat’s a ole married nigger!” Roxie was a rigid moralist, but here was something we could not understand. “iKem sit down,” she sald at last. “I see I hafter tell ter set my own kerrickter stret. Long ‘go 1 wuz young, en’ I b'longed ter a gemman in Tenn’see, so did Jabe. Dat’s him out dere. We co’ted en’ married, en’ wuz so happy; en’ bom-by a baby kem_ “Bout dat time we tuk Tumpy, whut didn’t hev no mammy, ter raise. She wuz ten den, ten yurs ole. I kin hear dat Tump singin’ yit, a-rockin’ de crib wid de baby a-squallin’ en’ her a-pattin’ ter drown, de yells; en’ me a-wukin’ in de fiel’ close by, long de row, ‘side o’ Jabe's. Den Tump wud bring us water in de long han'le gourd, en’ I'd drink fust en’ Jabe nex’, den Tump wud skeet bac’ wid a basket on her head ter keep de br’ilin’ hot sun off, en’ a-dancin’ Juba un’er de shade. We sorter ke; ourse’ves, kase Jabe wuz counted lakly; en’ we wuked de patches of goobers en’ water- milluns by de branch, en’ de gyardens, en’ de ticklish wuk dat ole mistis wudn’t let nobody else tetch. But one day ole maws- ter went en’ died, en’ Jabe feli ter de son, En’ Miss Sallie she married, en’ her man nuver b'lieved in ownin’ niggers; but he b'leved in sellin’ ‘em, en’ puttin’ de money fer ‘em snug in his pockets. He sol’ me, en’ I wuz kerried "way off ter Mis’sippl. I begged him, en’ Miss Sallie beg him, but she wuz leetle, en’ he wuz big en’ domineerin’, en’ med her pass her cawnsent. “*Fo’ goin’ I went ter de crib en’ tuk a long luk at dat po’ leetle sleepin’ baby, whut wudn't soon hev no mammy; en’ Jabe wuz cryin’ fit ter die, en’ Tump ‘wuz yellin’ on de do’step. It wuz wuss'n dyin’ stiff dead but whut kem ‘way atter dat wuz wuss vit I luked bac’ long ez I cud see a sign of de cabin or de smoke, en’ ‘bout de time I wuz gittin’ outer site I heard de baby cry; en’ | , announced, en day cry rung in my head fer yurs en’ yurs, | en’ I hear it yit. It wuz lak it say, ‘Kem bac’, mammy,’ en’ I cried en’ cried, too; en’ when de s’render kem, dat cry med me plod bac’ ter ole Tenn’see. I wanted ter see Jabe en’ Tump en’ all, so I wuked hard en’ saved money, den started ter ‘em. I wuz happy ‘nough on de way bac’ .er do me a lifetime. “When I got ter de ole neighborhood wunst mo’, I flew lak I hed wings, I wuz so j'yful. I walked fum de railroad out, fer I'd spent mos’ of my change fer presen’s ter ‘em all. De qua’ters wuz mighty nigh empty, but I see smoke kemin’ outer de ole chimbly whut hed been ourn, en’ knowed Jabe wuz dere yit. En’ mebby leetle Judy hed got big ‘nough ter cook, fer I'd been gawn ten yurs, en’ wudn’t she be glad ter see her old mammy? I jis’ fat’ly flew down dat big road, a-raisin’ de dust lak a hoss drove. I slung dat ca’pet bag right en’ lef’, en’ strutted prouder’n I did on de bloc’ in Richmon’. I'd been ’maginin’ dat baby sayin’ ‘Mammy, kem bac’,’ all dis long while, en’ who knowed but whut it read’ed up de house em’ cooked now, sayin’, ‘Mebby mammy ‘ill be home terday.’ “I got ter de do’ en’ a young yaller wo- man sot in de sunshine a-mendin’ britches, but I didn’t see no leetie gal flyin’ ‘round gittin’ dinner, en’ dat knocked up my cack- erlations, “*Do Jabe Seales live hyur? I axed ge woman, en’ she say he do. En’ I say, ‘I’se de wife dat wuz sol’ in slavery.” “En’, chillea, who you reckin dat wuz? It wuz Tump, dat same Tump, growed a sight bigger’n I ever thought she would, but whut you reckin she say? ‘Mebby you wuz his wite in slavery,’ says she, ‘but I'se his wife in freedom, en’ Jabe’s gawn ter town wid Mawse Aleck’s team.’ “1 jis’ fell fat. De bref wus knocked out- er me. ““‘Dullaw, ef dis ain’t A’nt Roxie!’ say she den, En’ I say, ‘1 nuver b’lieved Jabe wud do dat. You cudn’t a-beat it inter my head ail day long, ef 1 wuzn't hyur ter see myse’f. Whut med you, Tuimp?’ She begin ter cry, en’ said dey didn’t reckin I'd ever be bac’, en’ lak ez not I'd married agin too. 1 luked at her stret. ‘Dem ain't my idees of marriage,’ says L. ‘Whey’s my baby, den? She sorter gasped en’ showed de whites of her eyes. “i's dade,’ she say, eu’ de news sprawl- ed me flat. “Whey is it? I axed. “Dade,” she say again. “‘Whey’s tts little bones, I’se axin’? “Den she p'inted out de place, en’ I Jef en’ went ter dat leetle grave, whut wuzn't no bigger’n de crib I'd seen it in las’, en’ fell down ‘side it, eu’ hid my burnin’ shame fave in its ccol green grass; en’ 'fo’ I got up I heard a snap, en’ Knowed my heart hed popped in two at las’. It was ter’ble stili sut in dem woods. De wind jis’ move de broomsaidge, en’ de pine trees roared |"nough ter mek you feel skeery when yuse | way off in a graveyard by yo’se’f. Now’n then a pa’tridge wud whir up, en’ mek me jump. Ail ter wunst I heard sumpin’ lak sumpin’ sayin’, ‘Hurry off!’ en’ 1 nuver stopped ter think it out, but hurried at wunst. ‘ “so I kem down ter dishyer state, en’ nuver let on who I wuz tell now. Dat ole nigger out dere is Jabe Scales, dat Tump's ole man, not mine, en’ I ain't gwan hev speech wid him. 1’se too puppindicklar ter resk multiplyin’ words wid him.” She broke into sobs again, and we went to the window. “He looks poor and old and forsaken,” we said. “Hear him cough! Look at the old hands shake, and his toes are out of his boots. His trousers must have been cut when the water was high, and look at that coat! Poor, dilapidated old man!” Roxie came and peeped over our shoul- ders. “Dasso,” she said. patch his duds. He luks lak a skeer-crow, tubbe-sho! When Beck kems, ell be skeered outer her senses by him. I'se gwan put my scruples in my pocket, en’ feed him en’ clean him up, an’ sen’ him bac’ ter dat Tump ter show her how ter treat a man. She did put on monstus airs when she say she wuz his wife in freedom, lak freedom wuz de pr’r-book. I ain’t nuver called it such a fine thing ter be a wife in freedom.” She bathed her face, then went out into the yard, singing as mournfully as ever: “Dey’s a lan’ dat is fa’rer den day, En’ by faith we kin see it far off." She pretended to see nothing but the clothes on the lines, which she took off, piece by piece, and put into baskets. The old mau left the steps and tottered toward her. “Roxie!” he called, in a tremulous old “Dat Tump orter voice. “Whut ole man is you?” she asked, turn- ing and looking at him unconcernedly. “Dean you know me, Roxie?’ he said, casting a sheepish, deprecating glance at his rags. “I guess you ter be some ole man slipped off fum de po’-house,” was the cool reply. “Roxie!” “Or some ole runaway nigger been hidin’ ever sence befo’ de wah." “Now, Roxie!” “Or some ole ha’nt of @ nigger whut de ‘Klux hung.” Why, Roxie!’ “Or some ole skeercrow whut got blowed erway, en’ lodged down hyur.” “No, I ain't, Roxie, none o’ dem. I’se a po’, no-count ole nigger, named Jabe Scales, whut ae live up in Tenn’see, dat you wuz married ter "way wunst.” “De-laws-a-massy exclaimed Roxie. “Ain't you outer yo’ min’? Huhkom you gut strayed off so fur fum home, den?” “{ kem ter fin’ you,” he said. “I med s’arch tell I foun’ you, Roxie.” Roxie’s hand clutched at the clothes-line for support, and she looked away toward the mountains. “I got dem papers, dem Lighthouses, you sent, Roxie, en’ Mawse Aleck’s leetle boy uster read ’em ter me, en’ I'd go off by my- se’f en’ think over em en’ cry; en’ at las’ I cudn’t keep fum keemin’ no longer. Tumpy she done daic en’ gawn. She nuver tol’ me tell de las’ dat you wuz back dat time, en’ I didn’t blame her, kase it wudn’t a-he'ped matters none. En’ she say, ‘Go hunt A’nt Roxie, en’ mek it right." But I ain't axin’ you ter marry me over, Roxie. I know yuse lukin’ up higher trees fer better ber- fies; but I jis’ wanter stay ‘roun in hear- in’ of you. Kin I, Roxie?” Roxie brought her eyes back from the hill. She looked once at the eager old face, then looked down. Old Jabe leaned heavily on his cane. “En’ Tumpy’s dade?” she said at last. “Two yurs, kem nex’ month. es, I did, Roxie, but Tumpy sorter ken- soled me, en’ we talked erbout po’ Roxie ever’ blessed day.” “Po' Tump! En’ whey’d you lay ber?’ * "Side o’ leetle Judy.” Roxie got exceedingly busy all at once, and pulled the clothes off the tine with a She tore a lace curtain into fragments in her excitement, then flung it away as if it did not belong to Miss Fancher, and as if Miss Fancher were as amiable as a spring lamb, Old Jabe watch- ed her with fascinated ey “Lemme he'p tote ‘em in,” he said. Tak- ing up the basket, he carried it to the steps. “Roxie, it luks home-y "bout hyur,” he said presently. ‘Doan. it, now?” Roxie’s eyes traveled no further than to where the crooked, stooped old man stood, gazing contentedly about him, drinking in the peace and beauty of the hills and val- leys and Mttle brooks, not overlooking Roxie’s clean yards, big wood-pile, and show on all sides of a modest pleaty. “It do now,” she answered, softly. “Go buil’ on a fire in de kitchen, Jabe, en’ le’s git supper. En’ when dat poke-eaay chile of a Beck, whut mus’ tek her obsefvations ez she goes ‘long, puts in her ‘pear’nce, we'll sen’ her fer de preacher.” ‘And Roxie began “Sweet Bom-bye,” sing- ing so merrily we knew it had come at last, just as Beck, still “kiten’ her obser- vations,” came over the hill, with a Light- house under her arm. The Coffee Wi Forthcoming. Prom the Chicago Inter Ocean. “Lady, could you give @ poor man a cup of coffee?" Mrs. Nuwife—‘‘No, breakfast is all over.” “Well, I'll say this, that I’ve tramped for two years, and it’s the first place that I've smelled genuine, first-class coffee ye' “Never mind your feet; they don’t look muddy. Just sit down here at the table. Do you take cream and sugar?” Suspictously Familian Prom Puck. Police Magistrate—“This ain’t the furst toime ou've been arristed fur bein’ droonk.’ Prisoner—“It’s injoostice yez do me, y’r amner. Magistrate—“Moind phwat ye say! Oi ’ve your face scores ay toimes; an’ lately, too.” Prisoner—“Plaze, y'r anner, Ol 'm the new bartinder at Mickey Doolan’s.” PAINE'S CELERY COMPOUND, Best Spring Remedy inthe World. It Makes People Welll ‘There is one real spring remedy? Paine’s celery compound, so generally that the scientific research of LL.D., of Dartmouth College, first preseribed compound, & positive cure for dyspepsia, biliousness, diseases and kidney troubles. For the latter, Pain e's celery NEW PUBLICATIONS. THE SHOW AT WASHINGTON. By Louts Arthur Gosldce ‘Washington corresvondent New, York Recorder. and James Burton Revnolds, Wash- ington correspondent Boston Advertiser. Wash- ington: Washington Publishing Co. Sketches of the men, who, to a very con- siderable extent, are engaged in shaping ‘American history, and about whom, of course, the American people like to read. The stories are short and pithy—the best of many accumulated during several years of experience in the hurly-burly of news- paper effort at the national capital. Its au- thors claim for it that it is “a picture of the everyday existence of the men who make laws, fame and trouble,” and who do it all here, A readable collection of fact gossip. and ‘ A set of tales with os colloquial a entitled qe y of “Tess of the D'Urbervilles,” “A Group of Noble Dames," &c. New York: Marper & Brothers. Washington: W pop. This new volume by Mr. Hardy contains the following stories and sketches: “The Son's Veto,” “For Conscience’s Sake,” “A Tragedy of Two Ambitions,” “On the West- ern Circuit,” “To ep His Wife,” ae Melancholy Hussar of the German Legion,’ “The Fiddler of the Reels,” “A Tradition of 1804” and “A Few Crusted Characters. MEMOIRS OF CHANCELLOR PASOUIER. Eiited by Duc D'Audiffret-Pasouier. ‘fransiated fanios i re TL New York: brea: olume Wwe More deeply interesting than the first volume, because there are chronicled in it a greater multitude of important incidents in which notable characters figure copspicu- ously. The period dealt with is that which extends from the evacuation of Moscow by Napoleon,to the restoration of Louis XVILL It is history by one of its makers. Se woe POR THE TIMES. Gen, Walker has no sympathy with what he terms “a certain indisposition” on the part of many “public citizens here at the east” to shrink from discussion of bimetal- lism and the questions it involves. Believ- ing in a great future for silver, the able writer has put some of his best thought and most vigorous ex; nm on paper. Worshipers of gold and followers after sil- ver may alike be profited by the reading. FOR HONOR AND A vivid portrayal of what one man—an officer of the Swiss guard—suffered during and for some time after the attack on the Tuilleries in the French revolution. Adven- ture abounds in the narrative, and there is just enough of the sen! im the story to relieve the strain. Amapia M. Doug- IN THB KING'S COUNTRY, peas here aeons aes ‘3 > “Nelly Rinna ‘s Kingdom,” Pies na ton: ‘& Shevard. Like all other books by Miss Douglas, this is clean and elevating, with a vein of warm religious sentiment running throughout. There is romance sufficient and much that is truly affecting—e tul story of Christian endeavor. OYSTER INDUSTRY OF MARYLAND. By Charles H. Stevenson. Washington: Government Printing Office. Full of valuable information as to a business of which the average oyster con- sumer has little or no knowledge. Com- prehensive as to details and Uberally illus- trated. United States Fish Commissioner icDonald contributes Marshall Ms the intro- duction. A FAIR JEWESS. author of “Toe Last Tenan' ‘orter Square," red Nugget. Silver Flagon.” “Grif.”* Cassell Publishing Co.” W: ‘Lothron. A novel with a sound moral to it; worthy its author, who is one of England's most popular writers, GEOGRAPHICAL OONt CENTRATION, AN HIIB- FEATURE OF AMERICAN AGRICUL- TORIC TURE. Jonn Hyde, bxj Special Agent, Statistics “of tt Heventh U.S. Sten: Agricul , Fellow of the Royal Statistical Society of Loudon and of the American Statistical Asso: floual “Geographical” Soclety, a. Fit f° Kensington Publishing Co. Holmes, U.S. Bureau of Labor, 7a Gaye sub . S. Bureau o fet rr American ‘of Poitsical mitted ‘to the Academy and Social Science. Philadelphia: and Social Science. Academy of Political NOVEL PROPOSITION. _ Revolat the Distribution of Wealth Farm Products Moved Matter at a Uniform Mate for ell stances. By David Lubin. Sacramento: D. Johnson & Co. a NUMBER TWO OF “A NOVEL PROPOSITION,” Showing How the Rate of Wages and the mand for Skilled Labor ts Influenced by tle Oost of Trans) ‘tion on Farm Products, By David ramento: D. Johmson & Oo, INTEREST AND PROFITS. By Arthur T. Hadley, Yale University. submi to ti jemy of Political and Beeuce, Phtladelpia 7 et $ jelphia: Political and Social Science. VIOLET, THE AMERICAN SAPPHO. Novel of, Bohemia. By Robert Appletoa. Au- thor of “Mrs. St. John,” “Philltp St. Clare,” “"Viera,”” &c, Boston:” Byanklin Pub- Mshing Company. THE MIDWAY PLAIRANCE. The lence of ‘an Innocent Boy from Vermont im the Famous Midway. By ape Slimmens. (A. 3. Deck- Book do. arty). Chicago: Chicago W ‘ 1B SWEET POEMS AND LOVING CANTICLES. TO THE PRAISE AND GLORY OF THE KING OF LOVE. EVEN “JESUS.” OUR REDEEMER, SAVIOUR AND GOD. By Rev. Silliman Blag- BILTMORE FOREST. An Account of its ‘Treat- ment, and the Results of the Mirst Year's Work. By Gifford Pinchot, consulting Vorester. Chicago: R. R. Donnelley & Sons 0. E VISION OF SIR LAUNFAL AND OTHER TRE OEMS, By James ii Lowell. With Biog- raphy, Critical Opinions and Exnlauatory Note. Yew Xork: Maynasd, Merrill d Co. —_+-o-+—___ TYPES IN A CROWD. Pen Pictures of Women in Convention Hall. Any gathering of general public interest is sure to bring out a heterogeneous assem- bly in this capital city, whose citizens are made up of people from every state. This characteristic of Washington life was exemplified in the late Moody gospel meet- ings. A glance at any of the tremendous audiences that thronged to hear the great evangelist showed this to the most careless observer. Every rank and station in life was repre- sented, from the chief lady of the land down to the humbiest colored washerwo- man. Women in silks and women in calico; women with babies and tired, sad women in weeds. A sweet-faced Sister of Charity could be seen far down in the gallery; a Motherly Quakeress, with her soft gray garments, was well up to the front, that her time-dulled ears could better hear the of the choir could be distinguished the intel~ jectual face of a strongly individual wom whom one would suspect of being an au- thoress or suffrage lecturer. Here, too, was that growing type of young miss, not out of her teens, who seeks to cheat time by dressing as if she were @ tot, with childish hat surmounting a mass of baby ringlets, shaken out so as nearly to conceal her face and serve to accentuate a pair of bold-looking eyes. It y to guess what brought her by her her friends, coquettish glances at a hand- some usher and general uneasiness during the sermon. Then there was the type, represent- ed by @ girl whose general appearance, aid- ed by the peculiar headdress, suggests an insect of some description. She was always alone and spoke to no one, her goodness being of the isolating sort. There was also found the underbred girl, who held a pair of opera glasses as if they were bottles of beer, the first finger of whose hand was adorned with a cameo ring, the third had a heavy plain ring, while the little finger was elegantly pointed and extended as far as the muscles would allow. She chatted to her friend in an easy, conversationa! tone throughout the whole session, and did not finish pointing out faces to her companion until the services were concluded The singers formed a separate study. They were protected by their little squares of pasteboard from the general rush, and did not wear that look of “conflict” that so of- ten marked the early comer. They came in good natured and ready to sing any number of verses, with choruses softened and hush- e4 ad Hbitum. One noted a feature in girl life of this generation which has a morbid tendency, a feature which has tts culmin: tion in the absurd lovemaking that ts a gut of college life in Vassar, Smith and Vellesley—namely, that extravagant fond- ness for one of their own sex, that is dis- played by holding hands, affectionately inching each other's noses, gazing into the Tepes of each otber’s eyes or feeding each other with chocolates. One wonders how they can put so much enthusiagm and in- terest into an affair that generally lasts so short a time, but if it is a matter of keep- ing in practice—! ‘The mouths, too, as they opene to sin; the words were a study. But the volume | sound and clearness of enunciation more than compensated for the lack of grace. Lastly, there were the sweet, well-breq girls and their mothers, ever careful not to {infringe on another's right to see and hear, willing to share a seat or book, and heart! ly joining in the services without that ate of being aloof and beyond anything of com. mon interest. The Convention Hall saw many gentle women in those days. — Dian’t Know the Combi From Pack. Mrs. Wheedick—"I hear that your house was ransacked by burglars last night; of course, they got all your jewels?” Mrs. Shrewsbury Sharpe— the kird! My jewels are p you see, I keep them in a foldine-bed- nn 4 as the burglars were only in the house an hour, they hadn't time to open tt.” pe RE People will have De. Bull's Cough Syrup.