Evening Star Newspaper, December 22, 1894, Page 19

. advertise the prevailing fashions in fur- THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 1894-TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. 19 an Copsright, 1894, by Bacheller,” Johnson anf : Bacheller.) Dramatis Personae—Henry Holt (a blind Veteran of the civil war.) Maria Holt (his wife.) | Molly (their daughter; a child). A Lady (name unknown). ople in the street. The afternoon of a bleak Decem- See! ‘The main shopping thoroughfare of af American city. A crowd block the sidewalk in front of a large dry goods store in whose windows glitters a splendid holiday display. A wax dummy enveloped in broe: and ermine confronts another in evening dress of white satin and rose chiffon. Gorgeous fabrics of silk and velvet drape the sides of the window. These are all akin in tint; the colors of tke window resemble a cluster of roses, shading from bride to blush and jacque- minot. In the rear is seen the interior of @ luxuriously appointed little room; it is labeled: “A boudoir,” and is arranged to niture and upholstery. The room is fur- nished in rose and silver. Its dressing table is covered with the elegant conve- niences of a lady's toilet, costly in value ard dainty in design. ‘rall candles of pink Wax burn in silver sconces at the sides of the lorg mirror. The draperies of rich lace are carefully looped back from the glass, to avoid contact with the flaming €andles. The mirror reflects the street. A lady, plainly dressed in black, is try- ing to push her way through the crowd, but is blockaded by the women who are studying the show window. She casts a quick glance between the ermine and the | chiffon dummies, across the splendors of | the rose and silver decorations. Her eyes | | rest upon the mirror, and an expression of trouble crosses her couatenance. In the glass she perceives the reflection of two Wretched figures. These are a man and a woman. They stand upon the curbstone huddling together; the woman holds the | man’s arm; both are thinly dressed and are seen—in the mirror—to shiver. The man is | | pale and undersized; he has a consumptive | lock; his bands are cold and blue; he raises @ flute (o his lips, then puts it down, and tries to warm his lingers. ‘The woman has a delicate face; she holds out 2 cap, somewhat timidly or proudly, as if she shrank from the act. Now and then @ passer drops a nickel or a penny into the cap. The woman removes her other hand from the man’s arm, and wraps his fingers in her shawl to warm them. The Mat—Coid, Maria? Wife—Not so very, Henry. Husband—Tired, girl. Wife-—Standing hurts me a little. But I don't mind. Husband—It is pretty cold. It comes hard—iraggin’ you out. If I could come by myself! Oh, Lord, if I could get about alon: Wife—Now, Henry! Dear Henry! Why you know I don’t mind it—much. I like to come along of you. I think it does me good to get the air. Only the stormy days —and you ain't fit to play when it storms, yourself. You will have to give it up this winter, I'm thinki Husband—I'l take Molly next time. You're beat out, Maria. Molly—she can take me in tow like a little lady. the smartest of the blood, Molly i: feel bad if we shouldn't make out a Christ- mwas for ‘em, this year, Maria. Somebody may send a turkey—but that don’t go into little stockin’s. Wife—If | get another dress to make over We can manage. Don't you feel anxious, Henry! That fat customer I had wears out dreadfully -on her side seams. I cal- culate she'll need another cheap wrapper soon. Husband (more cheerfully)—Yes. That's ene thing about it. You can alw sew when you can get the job. And Molly can me. I guess we'll manage. We always have, dear—most al- ways. Husband.-That's so, most always. But we cau’ afford to talk. Time to taik is for rich foiks. You've warmed my fingers up nicely in your shawl, girl I'll go at it again. The street musician plays. “How can I bear to lea One parting kiss I'll give thee, And then whate'er befalls me I'll go where duty calls me.” Lady blockaded in front of the thee? shop- window siarts and stirs. The musician, rei on ted in the mirror, ‘ewell, my own true love. eweil—Fare—well.”” y turns her b on the show win- dow and urges he way through the toward the ‘or her f nm and the woman. ure replaces for the moment those of the street players. The light of the pink candles is obscured. The in ermine and the dummy in rose chiffon excharge haughty glances over her bead. Woman in the crowd—Now, there's an ut that brocade. d Woman—Give me the chiffon! it’s the fashionable shade. First weman—I'll te!l my husband he shan’t have any peace till he fits me up a room like that yonder. He's goin’ to be- — with the silver hairbrush come Christ- woman (sighing)—But then the clutter and muss go! Do you think 1 pay for the bother? Pd rather that real ermine opera cloak. It's d four hundred dollars, y Helt plays. he beiuty of the lilies st was born across the sea ha glory in His bosom hat transfigures you and me. (Lady with sighs of emotion stops in front of the street musician, and silently bse him). H plays: He died to make men holy, die to make men free.” Lady (to herself)=I can’t stand this! I supp: the Conglomerate Anti-Pauper ssion would but 1 n me. forever, -s her purse of its clan's cap.) As she ekel coin and cannot stand it! silver into the so, shi says » I'm a sub- urban, ust a car fare to get to the station. I'm to my train now. | ¢ It’s too bad there ts no more. Oh, I'm sorry for you! The !a Maria Holt looks after hei he deftly turns the silver from the cap into Henry's pock- et. Her eyes fill. Henry plays and sings: “Let us die to make men free! God is marching on.” Lady (unexpectedly returning)—Never = my train. I've given it up. I can’t r this! 1 must know something about Th § BETH STUART PHELPS WARD: [it happens. | mean it. ;} know anything. VETERAN “A DRAMA OF THE STREET you—why, what's the matter? Why, you poor woman! What ails you? Maria Holt (bursting into tears)—Oh, it’s the words you said! It's the words you said! Nobody else—for so long—and we have had such a hard pull!—Oh, don’t mind me! Oh, I am ashamed—Henry, Henry, I'm ashamed of myself! I don't know whenever he’s heard me cry before— have you, Henry? But it’s the words you said! is Lady (much moved)—=The words I said? Oh—that! Such a little common human— oh, you poor woman! Henry Holt puts down his flute. His pinched face works pathetically. He rolls his eyes helplessly toward Maria. ‘Then,with the most exquisite motion by which knight or gentleman could express reverence or tenderness for women, the street musician gropes for the check of his wife, ‘and strokes it with the palm of his blue hand. A crowd has begun to thicken around Henry, Maria and the lady; but neither of the three appears aware vf it. The man caresses his wife as ingenuously For Freedom's Sake and Those Blind Eye as if she and he were alone in the world. He shows no consciousness of the presence of observers. Lady—Tel! me all about it! Tell me how Why are you like this? You are Americans. Henry (interrupting)—New England, born and bred. Lady—You don't look as if you ought to be doing this. You look above begging on the street. : Henry—Ma'‘am? : Maria—Oh, madam! Don't you see? Henry, she don’t understand. She didn't She ain't that kind of lady. Madam— Henry—Begging? His face flushes from white to purple. His flute drops to the pavement. His wife picks it up end wipes it with her shawl. She speaks in a crooning tone. Maria—There, there, dea She don’t know. She don’t understand. Madam! my husband is a musician. He is not a beggar. He works hard for a living. ‘Try it and see—all weathe' Maria Holt raises herself with dignity and with trembling forefinger points at her husband's eyes. Lady—Blind? - Maria nods silently. Lady (overcome)—Oh, I beg your pardon! Oh, you poor people! I beg your pardon with all my heart. The Street Musician (bowing with fine grace)—Madam, you have it from mine. Lady—Tell me how it came about—this great misfortune. Do you mind telling me I will try not to hurt your feelings s stupidly again. Henry Holt (drawing himself erect)—Yes, ma'am, I will tell you. It happened thirty | years ago, but it don’t need thirty words to tell it. Seems to me, ma'am (smiling) if you'll excuse me, you're the one that don’t see of us two! The street musician lifts his purple fin- gers to his sightless eyes and then, with a superb gesture, points in silence to a faded decoration pinned upon his shrunken breast. It is the badge of the Grand Army of the Republic. ‘The crowd about the group has slowly in- creased. Silver begins to fall into the street player's cap. There is a gap among the women at the show window. Maria Holt looks through this gap. Her wan eyes raise themselves to the ermine opera cloak with instinctive feminine at- tention; she glances at the pink and silver room. The blind man’s pale face turns blankly in the same direction. To him alone of all the people before the window its luxurious display appecls without arous- ing interest. The dummy in ermine and the dummy in chiffon regard him scornfully. The First Woman in the Crowd—It's a hand organ, I guess. Isn't there a monkey? 1 dote on monkeys. Second Woman—It isn’t a monkey. It's only a little man with a flute. Let's move on to the millinery window. First Woman—Wait, I've got ten cents. Second Woman—I’ve spent every cent I've got in the world on that ostrich plume and my jet trimmin’s. I've got to borrow of you to get home. I feel kind of ashamed, too—seems so mean. Let's move along,and they'll think we didn’t see him. Lady—Did you lose your eyesight in the army? Henry Holt (cheerily playing Yankee Doo- dle. Finishes the strain conscientiously be- fore he speaks)—Excuse me, ma'am, it seems to be silver that’s coming in. I know it by the note it strikes. I want to earn what I take. I don't beg. I am a musician. I used to play in bands. I always been fond of music. Yes, mgsam. I lost my eyes in the war; one of ‘ea Maria Holt—The other followed. five years. That was when we was first married, so I know. I was young then, a slip of a girl, It came dreadful hard ‘on us. Lady—Is he quite blind? Henry—I am quite blind, One eye don't look it, they say. Some folks think I'm shamming, but they're folks that don’t I got a piece of sheil at Antietam. Lady—But the United States does not leave its blind soldiers to be—play on the streets—on public sympathy—for a living. What is your pension? . Henry (smiling)—I don’t get the pension for serious bility. What I get just m. about pa. ent. It don’t clothe nor feed us. I don’t get a blind man’s pen- sion. But we get along sometimes quite well. It depends some on whether my wife can get a job, and then there's the weather. I ain't so strong as I was before the war. I don’t stand bad weather. I have the pneumonia—and that’s expensive. There's a hitch about my pension, you see. I used to think it would come round. But we've given up bothering, haven't we, Maria? Maria (apathetically)—Yes, it only riles Lon up and disappoints you. Nothing comes of it. Lady—Weren’t you honorably dis- charged? Veteran (proudly)}—Madam? Lady—Well—of course—but I mean— ayes something about a surgeon, He lied. Henry (recovering himself and smiling)— So he doesn't find it convenient to testify. His testimony is lacking. Lady—Ah! A flaw in your pension pa- pers? Veteran—That’s about the size of it. Lady (gently)—Hard! Veteran—Well, yes. But we're kind of used to it. It is hard, though—sometimes. Lady—How many children have you? Henry (eagerly)—There’s Moliy! Maria—And the two little ones. We had two older boys. They died. The drainage was had where we lived. We tried to save t those days. We don’(—since. y—Do you make a living? Do you Have you clothes? A fire? Food ? Now give me your street and number. I must look into this matter. How many did you say? n (putting his flute down from his J counting on the stops with hi cold fingers)—Fair Oaks, Malvern Hill, Bull Run, Antietam. It was at Antietam I got the shell. This is pitiful! It is not right. ‘The country—patriotic people ought to do something. Veleran—Oh, folks are kind enough. I battles, | to a solemn spectacular effect. get a turkey most every Christmas. Last year we had cranberry sauce and fixings. Lady (sotto voce)—He gives his youth, his manhood, his health, his eyesight for bis country, and he gets a turkey and cranberry sauce on Christmas. Veteran—Ma'am, there was 35,000 of us the last time I inquired. I'm only one of the delayed list. Don’t take it to heart so. We're Kinder used to it. Some weeks we get on very well. It depends so much on the weather! Man from the crowd—How do you know that he ain’t one of the fraudulent claims? There's been a good sight more than 35,000 of them. Lady—I don't know, but I don’t believe and I can look him up. Gentleman from the crowd—I'll spare you the trouble. I know the man. I'm a neigh- bor of his, in a way. I teach in his ward. His children come to my school. L know bout the family. They are honest people. It is all just as he says. Lady—I will se@ you again. You shall hear from me. I will remember—and the children! The holidays are coming along. Maria—Yes. We do mind it when w can’t make Christmas for the children That's the hardest. Now, he talks about Molly. I don’t see how I can let that child go on the street with him. Her little win- ter sack’s worn to rags; it’s past mend- ing, and I've cut over all the flannels I've got. It's no place for Molly, anyhow, but I ain’t very strong. Madam—(she whisper- ed). ady—Oh! hand). Henry (mechanically stops of the fiute)—Fair Oaks, M Bull Run, Antietam— “Lady (extending her hand, for which the street player gropes)—So, good-bye, now. 1 shan’t forget you. Your country hasn't for- gotten you, either. I don't believe it! Veteran «smiling slightly)—Don’t you, ma’am? Lady—Well, I don’t blame you for looking that way! Maria—Ma’‘am, he sings, too, You ought to hear him sing before you go. My hus- band is a born musician. He gives his money’s worth. You ought to know about that. it (She wrings the woman's counting on the atvern Hill, Henry (flattered)—Now, madam! My wife is so 1oolish about me. Women are, you know. (Plays and sings): My country, 'tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty! Of thee I sing. Lady, with emotion, turns away from the singer and disappears in the crowd. Ii. Time—December a year later. Scene—The same street, the same shop. The show window is superbly decorated. Its side and top are hung with dainty little articles of infants’ and children’s wear, all of white, exquisitely trimmed with costly lace, Hotiday gifts for very young children are scattered among the baby clothes. The rear and floor of the window are given up There is a grotto; and a manger rudely carved in rock. Oxen are chewing their hay on one side. On the other kneel the three Magi in gorgeous turbans and draperies; they pre- sent myrrh, frankincense and gold. Humble Jewish figures—a man end a woman—lean over the manger. The woman is young and fair. In the manger lies a sleeping babe. A powerful electric jet, concealed below, throws a glory upon’ the face and head of the child. All the light in the win- dow comes from this jet. A crowd is col- lected before the window. The people talk softly. Rude men and delicate ladies stand side by side, Not an oath is heard nor a peevish exclamation. Many people look silently into the window. The street player comes to his stand upon the curb-stone. His wife is not beside him A little girl leads him by the hand. 5\ is decently dressed and of modest appea ance. The player wears a woolen jacket of the kind called cardigan beneath his thin coat. He looks less cold than formerly; but his face wears an expression of deep anxiety. He speaks. Henry Holt—Molly, did you say mother seemed quite bright, when you went back, after you left me on that corner to wait for you? She's been so long getting up! It worries me. Molly—As bright as silver, father! She told me to tell you. She said she was sure she'd be out again by Christnfas. Play something jolly, father! Henry plays and sings: Oh, though the world turn a cold shoulder, I'll take up my march and [ll fight, For wife and for home ard for children— They need me from merning till night. For wife and for home and for batties— ‘They love me from morning to night. Molly—Isn’t that a new song, father? Henry—Yes. I composed it last week, “Madam, I Have Lost Vy Head.” after those things came from the lady. I felt so encouraged. I never can write poetry when I'm down. Molly—So it’s one of your own poems, father? Henry—Yes, it's one of mine. Molly (proudly)—It is a pretty poem! Sing it again, father. Henry (sings)— “Oh, the wife, and the home, babies! I love them from mornin, Molly (in an underto: was just as well that new baby died. she cried when she said so. Henry (dully)—Yes, that’s the worst of such things. Melly—Kut it’s been so much easier, si we had the lady, father. Henry—God biess her! Molly (quaintly)—Yes, He'd enjoy_that. and the till night.” Mother said it But I should = think erry gentlemen, a dismay. st our Savior— Molly (interrupting softiy)—Father, the ple at the window are turning this way hey’re looking at us. I see through the crowd of ‘em. father! There's a baby Christ in tne vt The street Molly? Molly (plaintively)—I wish you could see him, fatae: Henry (slowly turning his blank eyes toward the window)—It seems as if I did Molly, (He removes his faded hat a bends his uncovered head before the win- dow. Several men in the crowd secing the action of the blind pwyer do the same.) Molly—It's such a pretty little Jesus, father! And there's presents hung round over His head. I wonder if He'll get any. Do you s’pose the lady will sead us any more come this Christmas? Father (beginning to play restlessly)— I guess likely, Molly. But I'd rather get ‘em myself. (He plays engerly,) For Jesus Christ our Savior— Molly—Father! Father! Look, look! Henry—-Molly, be still: I shan't earn you a supper if you go on like this, (Sternly)— I shall lose my reputation as a musician, player (wistfully)—Is_ there, Molly! (To himself) She says, look, look? Lord, if I could look! I never see the child lose her wits so before. Molly—Father, father! “It's the lady! Here is the lady! Henry Holt—(fretfully)—I wish I could see her—once. The lady advances rapidly. The crowd parts before her. She speaks a word here and there to right and left, as she comes through. She looks agitated and happy. Her delicate face has a beautiful expres- sion, She comes up to the street player and lays her Wand upon his arm. She speaks: {Mr Holt, don’t be too much disappoint- ed— Henry (patiently)—I've lived too long to be disapp: |. "That's for young folks. Lady—tf it shouldn’t come out as I hope —but 1 do hope. And the senator says I y hope. In fact, he writes—here is the at he is just as good as sure. ‘The Veteran (flushing pitifully)—Oh, you don’t mean the pension? * Laé s, L mean the pension—the full Ail that belongs to you—that part pen of what the country owes to you. That part of the big, deep, terrible debt. The letter says he hopes it isn’t too late to set a great wrong right. He hopes before Icng —perhaps by New Year—sooner than we expected— The Veteran—Oh, my God! The soldier weeps upon the street, before all the people. They crowd around him. At a sign from the,lady money rains into the cap in Molly's hand. Molly—Father! ift’s growing so heavy I can’t hold it! jAnd there's bills—Oh, they'll blow away A Veice (from >the crowd)—Th: fer Christmas’ sake!) Another Voice+:That’s for his own sake! The Lady—For honor’s sake! A Voice—For fregdom’s sake, and them blind eyes he gave for it! The Veteran (confusedly)—Fair Oaks, Bull Run, Malvera Hill, Antietam. The Crowd—For their sakes! Molly—Father! I. cannot hold the cep. It is so heavy it will,break me! The Lady—Come,,come, Henry! Give them a song. The Crowd—Give ys a tune! Give us a song! ¥ s The Veteran (trying to compose himself) —Ma'am? Yes. I'l} try. Molly? Here, little girl. Molly? I wish your mother was here. Ma'am? Yes. I Will try again. Sings.) ly country, ‘tis of thee, Sweet land of liberty—" Chokes, and begins once more, lously. “My Savior, 'tis of Thee—” He stops, and removes his hat again. “Madam, I've lost my head. I don’t know which is which.” The Lady (smiling throygh her tears)— 1t doesn’t matter; either will do. The face of the strect piayer falls into his hands. His bowed figure bends before the lady. With a fine gesture she steps aside. The crowd parts. The light from the head and face of the child in the manger falls in a broad white ray upon the veteran. The soldier can be heard sobbing. A Voice (from the crowd)—Lord, I could cry myself! The Lady—Let vs pass, you please, Molly—Father, father! What will moth- er say? The lady says she'll lead you home. May I run on before? I only went to stay a minute to see that cunning little Jesus —there! Good-bye, little Jesus! (Throws a kiss at the child in the window ahd runs on.) The lady and the veteran follow slowly, smiling as they §0. _ VICTORIA'S WINTER HOUSEKEEPING tremu- good people, if > How Windsor Caxtic is Heated and Lighted. In a gossipy account of the preparations for the winter residence at Windsor of the English queea a London paper tells how the question of heat and light becomes complicated on account of Victoria's very decided ideas upon the matters. Fer lighting the castle four methods are available, all of which are moré or less in operation, viz.: Gas, ofl, candles and the electric light; while for warming and cook- ing, wood, coal and gas are used. During the residence of the court some hundreds of persons are in the castle besides the royal family and the visitors; consequently the adequate provision of all these process- es is of a somewhat gigantic nature, Keep- ing many servants constantly employed. For the general lighting and heating gas and coal are adopted, but this is not so in the queen’s own rooms, nor in many other of the royal apartments, In the matter of fires for her owa rooms the queen strictly banishes coal. She las a confirmed prefer- se for wood Special supplies of wood have to be obtained for this purpose from the thickly-timbered hills a miles up the river above Windsor, where a num- ber of workmen are regularly employed on this task. The timber, when felled and roughly trimmed on the spot, is brought down to a wharf on the river side, where it is dressed and cut up into blocks of fixed sizes; it is thén stacked to get sea- scned, and ‘as required supplies are brought down to the castle for consumption in the n's rooms s and ofl are excluded from her majes- 8 apartments. “Hefe light is provided by means of wax cundles, all of one special fattern, theic daily removal being the duty of a special official. |In some of the other apartments gas is utilized,.and in other parts oil lamps are burned, gas supplying the quarters of the staff generally. More- over, although the queen bars all but can- dies for her ownprivate use, she has per- mitted the introduction of an electric light plant. This is placed underneath the north terrace, and is. in charge of a special en- gineer, under the general supervision of a preminent electrician. This plant has never been largely used, ‘but the light has been led into and applied to the main corridors, to one or two of the royal apartments, and to the library. Acyear or so’ago the orig- iral plant was replaced by newer and more powerful machinery, which would probably suffice to light the whole of the castle if the queen so willed, but this has not yet occurred, nor is she likely to sanction ft. Electric’ bells) and telephones abound throughout the castle, but electric light ts a ed very limited play. he coal required for Windsor Castle chiefly comes from certain collieries in North Wales, brought in train loads of per- haps 1) tons at a time. From the station it is carted to the castle, in various parts of which are deep and spacious cellars into which it is tipped. it is con- veyed as required to the different and offices, numbering some hundreds Lifts are almost unknown in the ¢ Consequently the ‘coal has to be h from the cayernous cellars and carried hither and t ¥ coal porters. The fe- plenishing of the fires is carried out upon a most 1 and eflicient plan, footmen and other hifh servants receiving the coal from the porters and passing it on to the ropal apartments at intervals throughout the day. ch official connected with heating and nting the castle has his allotted dutie: and recognized position, and thus the resi- dence of the highest lady in the land is lighted and warmed in etficient manner by many and various process THE HARVARD RONG What He Looks Like—The Tetis Cham- pion Not im it. MAN. m the Poston Herald, E. Klein, the Harvard senior who broke the college record for strength a short time ago, made a record far -in excess of any other man ever examined by Dr. Sar- gent. When a man gets a record above 1,000 kilograms he is exceptional. Klein made a mark of 1,445.6 kilograms, his near- est competitor being G. W. Cutter, a med- ical student, with 1,097.8 kilograms, The ¢ wity of Klein's tungs is 300 cubic centimete This, it will be understood by remarkable, G. ©. hool, who holds th acity of some i per cent experts, is nothing Chaney of the law record for the., cubic ce better than K lungs tested for their and harp. was not very greatly ing only 2 kilegrams, ‘ord for this is held are blowing short rd at thi: average, | hove the cr 50.6 pou For the strength of legs the studeat lifts with his legs a weigit suspended from a bar., He supports the bar with his hands, & matter of fact, instead of lifting a weight, the student pulls on a spring which is attached to anindicator showing just the number of kilogramsiof dead weight which the man could raise. At this Kiein holds the ‘ord—710 Miiograms, or 1,625 pounds. Some idea of what.this means may be had from the fact tit a man’s total strength need be only 600 kilograms, or 1,320 pounds, in order to entitle him to compete for the ‘varsity crew and football team. Klein's total sfrength, lungs, legs, back, forearms and upper arms, 1,445.6 kilograr is equal to 3,180.82 p ds. It is interesting to compare this fecord with that of H. R. Nash, who recefitly ‘broke the record at Tufts College. The latter's total was only 2,865 pounds, or LL02kilograms, a long way short of Klein's. "1 -26e—_____ Getting 2 Pointer. On the journey_from Vienna to St. Peters- burg, Cumberlagd,. the well-known anti- spiritualist and thought reader, entertained his fellow passengers by guessing their thoughts. One of the travelers, a Polish Jew. who took the whole thing for a hoax, offered to pay Cumberland the sum of fifty rubles if he could divine his thoughts. Vis- ibly amused, Cumberland acceded to his re- quest, and said: rou are going to the fair at Nizhni- Novgorod, where you intend to purchase goods to the extent of 20,000 rubles, after which you will declare yourself a bankrupt and compound with your creditors for 3 per cent.” On hearing these words the the speaker with reverent without uttering a syl leg of his boot a shab e, and handed him the fifty rubles. upon the great magician triumphantly inquired: “Then I have guessed your thoughts, ch?" No,” replied the Jew; “but you’ have given me a brilliant idea, lew gazed at He then, ble, drew out of the NEW YORK PHASES The Development of Tapestry Weav- ing in This Country. PLACE OF AMERICAN DECCRATED GLASS Gossip From Some Art and Literary ‘ Circles. aes = CHURCH ORGAN RECITALS Correspondence of The Evening Star. NSW YORK, December 20, HW STREAM OF New York life—apart {rom its shopping ed- dies, social rapids, political whirlpools und mercantile shoals abounds in’ quiet pools of interest, trom which the angler whose hook is well baited with} Jetsure may land various species of cultivated pleasures. The tyrant Dollar many of these pools “unpre- served,” notably certain art dealers’ ¢s- tablishments. In England the “Arts and Crafts’ Association's” annual exhibition, and a+similar association in France, gather the flowers of artistic developments into attractive bouquets for the pubiie. In America the flowers of commercial art re- mair seattered along the highways of traffic. Such an old world industry as tapestry weaving is to be found budding on Sth avenue in an art decorator’s rooms, where there has been a free exhibition of the first tapestries made in America, The skilled workmen came originally from the Gobelin and Aubusson establishments, but to make the industry essentially native promising boys fromm an orphanage are apprenticed. In a lecture before the National Sculpture Society attention was called to the practical abandonment of tapestry weaving in Flanders, though In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries there were employed in Brussels over 15,000 men, at Louvain over 50,000 men, while in Ghent twenty-seven streets were occupied by weavers. In France the industry is still successfully conducted, but the master workman who makes all the dyes used at the establishment in Westchester county, on the Bronx river, reports the waters of that stream superior in dyeing qualities to those of the Bievre at Gobelin; consequent- ly the dyes are finer; they do not fade so easily. One's belief in the beautiful possibilities of American achievement is strengthened still further by hearing that decorated glass produced in this country is deemed of such importance in the European world that specimens of it have been selected by the art museums of Paris and Berlin. Even in a store for the sale of orlental goods tiny sprigs of American art appear, as was instanced by a lovely poppy patter ca ried out in woven silk, the design being by Mrs. John Redmond, the artist's wife. Art aud Literary Exh The dealers are not the only ler cusing public attention upon matters of art—the clubs officiate as well, conspicu- ously the Grolier, founded in 1881, and named after Jean Grolier, the famous hook collector of the sjxteenth century. The club house has a fine salon especially adapted for exhibits, and at one end of the room hangs a quaint painting of Aldus, the Venetian bookbinder, showing copies of his work to Grolier, Last spring there was a display at this club of American bookbind- ing, from primitive attempts to the latest ornate results, The last “show” was com posed of drawings in pencil, wash and etchings by J. McNeill Whistler. A pencil sketch of the artist as a boy, by himself, was charming in a sweetness of expres: sion, not so much associated with later portraits. ‘There were illustrations of a Rhine journey, one v of the gaming table at Baden-Baden and nurierous sketches about London, but was ab- sent the distinct personality of style, so striking in Mr. Whistler's His name has occurred se late in connection with the di erence which Mr, Du Maurie: 4 has tert paintings. frequently of tasteful ret- in “frilby” that it was sequence to visit th a drawings, which were exhibited gratis by Mr. S. P. Avery, jr. That the public ap- preciated the emphasized by who, undaunted homage to ‘T'rilby friends, and even | “Svengali.” Approach- ing Mr. Du Maurier’s creations so closely, Mr. Thomas Dunn English might scarcely have been surprised to hear the strains of his song “Ben Bolt. Chance brimmed the cup of “Trilby’’ en- jJoyment, by affording a glance, the sane @ay, at the original manuscript, and cor- rected type-written copy, loaned by the plishers to a fair arranged the Knights and Ladies of the Round Table.” This society, including amorg its foreign are opportunity offered was the number of devotees, by torrents of rain, di Little Billee,” their Have: t Same? Diseases ser All progressive physicians now admit the ctness of “the germ theory of disease.” They know that all diseases fre caused by germs, or microbes, which lodge in some orgun, get into the blood, and multiply with terrible rapidity. The trouble may show in the bead, lungs, stomach or elsewhere, You may call it by any name you choose, but the cause is the same—microbes in the blood—microbes at the root of your life. Kill them and it cares you. Let them live and you die. The disease isn't Con- sumption, or Kezema, or Dyspepsia, oF Puralysis—it is MICRORES of different kinds. The only preparation tuat will kill them all and so cure any (so-called) dis- case is Wm. Radam’s Plicrobe Killer. BOOK ABOUT IT FREE. “ DON'T FAIL TO SEND FOR IT. CONSUMPTION. PATERSON, N. J., August 14, 1894, Gentlemen—Having vad three sisters die with Consumption, and knowing by my symptoms that unless helped I would be the next, 1 began to use. your MICROBE KILLER upon the advice of friends, and 1 am now happy to say that I am again enabled to work (which I was unable to do) and have good rest «ud appetite, and ho headache or cough, ED. E. SPEAR, 7 Hambucg av RAEUMATISM. MORTON, Delnware County, Pa. August 26, 1894. Gentlemen—I had “he stheamit'sm in my limbs so bad that I was unable to do my work. I was indaced to try RADAM'S MICROBE KILLER, and am happy to sey that I was cured in a few weeks, It is grand, good medicine, und 1 would advise every one to try it. AICHIE THOMSON. ECZEMA, MELROSE, Mass., Septemver 1, 1804. Gentlemen—I have been a creat sufferer from Eczema; tried any number of Sarsa- parillas and Blood Purifiers, bat could not effect a cure until 1 used RADAM'S MI- CROBE KILLER, which did the work thoroughly and effectually, GEORGE UPTON, Melrose, Mass. PARALYSIS. NEW YORK, October 3, 1893. Gentlemen—On the 2th of September, 1892, 1 was suddenly seized with Piralysis and dropped helpless in the streets, My lends sent me to the New York Hospital, here I was treated for sixty-four dors, and on being discharged, amy condition was such that I -ould not get about without the use of a heavy cane. I had given up all hopes of ever being cured, when through a friend 1 heard of the MICROBE KILLER, axd imme- diately began aking it. From the first 1 | | received benefit, and efter ‘aking it for four months, was entirely cured. FRANK P. SHULL, 1 East 28th st. ‘Wm. Radam Microbe ?Killer Co., 7 Laight St., New York. well repays a visit. The drawing room paper is pale yellow, designed by Mrs. Millet's brother; the dining room walls are massed ‘vith ancient pewter utensils, and another room is completely lined, walls and ceiling, with old oak paneling, im- ported from Holland, where it served the same purpose. In this room are some unique pieces of furniture, dating from the early part of this’ century—namely, two pairs of marriage chairs, inlaid with the names and wedding dates of the bride and groom recipients. Church Organ Recitals. People who have enjoyed the public or- gan recitals in Freiburg and Berne will be interested to hear that several such are given weekly In New York—one by Gerrit Smith, the compcser, in a church in which he is organist. Another series will soon be commenced by Mr. R. H. Warren, the or- ganist of St. Bartholomew's Church, where the largest church organ in America has just been completed. Mr. W. C. Carl, a young pupil of the famous French com- poser, Guilmant, the organist of La Trin- ite, Paris, also gives recitals. Mr. Carl is organist of a Presbyterian church, which is the oldest organization of that denomi- nation in New Y state. This congrega- tion never consented to the introduction of an organ until the pastorate of the Rev. Richard Harlan, son of Justice Harlan, when the present fine instrument was erected. Well-known vocalists assist at the recitals, and the church is well filled with an appreciative audience. Not far away, on’Washington Square, stands the Judson Memorial Church, whose architects refused to build it without the lofty campanile, and whose congregation refused to incur the extra expense thereof. The result was a beautiful compromise be- members Queen Wilhelmina of Holland, Was organized to encourage a spirit of chivalry toward the unfortunate, and is composed of the readers of a magazine for young people which periodically awards prizes for excellence in metal work, pen drawing, photography, wood carving, Vene tian iron work and needie work, conspicu- ously the dressing of dolls, A Word About Artists, Besides the young people's handiwork a stamp collection competed for attention, as it contained the most valuable stamp in the world—a twenty-cent St. Louis, worth «00. A table of autographs tempted many visitors, and the children eagerly rdulged in purchasing favorite authors aphs of their of Kirk Mon- roe’s. “A number of authors distinguished fair by their atte a small ,. told him or she loved y respond- The lady who wrote requests aphs said that | President Cley the only one who did not reply Cleveland t her autograph on a card prettily with a picture of the ¥ another valued one from engraved that of Mrs. Frar Hodgson who is alway: 5 a name, 4 Con Do} ly sale at an ‘advar price. Doyle was entertained by the | Lotus Club while he was in New “York This club enjoys honoring artstic and lit- Y lebrities, also inv to lectures and loan exhibit eral nature of lec ed by the last American _ Lite Yea deliv erary ¢ ing its fric fo! The Two Hundred . . Lewis Fraser of the Century Magazine. The last exhibition was of the wo bout thirty Amer | figure painters, all but seven of whom wer members or associates of the National Academy of Design. Is it not a portent for landscape paintiig in America that the ingle member elected by the academy this year and one of the most promising | associates “elect” should be “figure paint- ers’”—namely, Mr. F.C. Jones and Mr, Ed- mond C, Tarbell, both represented at the Lotus? The club possesses a number of fine pictures of its own, including a strik- ing portrait of Mr. Whitelaw Reid, one of its former president An Artist's Residence, Among the better known artists repre- sented at the loan were F. 8S. Church, Frederick’ Dielman, Eastman Johnson, F. A. Bridgman and F, D. Millet. One of the latter's paintings was’ surprisingly in the manner of Alma Tadema, probably be- cause of the English influence to which Mr, Millet’s protracted residence in Lon- n subjects him, yeence in England at pr New York house js rented, tenants were startled last sumn a newspaper produced a one of the rooms in the hou mantel, odd furniture and bizarre b brace being distinctiy depicted. The expla- nation was, Mr. Mijlet had used this room as a stud~ for a painting, now in the Me- tropolitan Museum. ‘The interesting iaterior of che residence ored plate of , the col twean art and necessity, the tower being built with rooms, the rent from which nets an ample interest on the investment. The tower is surmounted by a large cross, il- luminated by electric lights every evening until 10 o'clock, appearing like an ethereal vision in the heavens, a silent but none the less persuasive appeal to the toiling humanity of the metropolis. cop otal SE How ‘to Put on a Brooch, wn the Florida Tim Union. Very few women know how to put on their brooches and lacepins, Let me see how you would do it,” said a jeweler. So Aminta took it up by the setting to oblige him and proceeded to work it into the bit of velvet at her throat. Yes; I thought so," he continued. hat's just the reason it will break soon and you will be bringing it back pairs. It may be against my busi- but I'll tell you how it should be ‘Take hold of the brooch by the pin. Don’t make a leverage by using the jewel- ed part as a handle. Take it up by the pin and put it in by the pin, handling the or- nament only when you clasp it, so you will save your ‘quarters’ for renewing the pin.” From the Omaha Bee. A stone blotting pad being introduced is made of a bibulous stone that is said to absorb ink more readily than any blotting paper in use. It is formed by compressing the sediment deposited by certain hot springs, which, having been accumulating for ages, ‘is available in inexhaustible quantities It is highly porous, and will, it is said, take up a surprising quantity of ink, requiring only eccasional scraping with a knife to keep it clean and ready for use. Stbsolutely poo Acream of tartar baking pow- der. Highest of all in leavening strength.—Lates: United States Governmen Food Report Royal Baking Powder Oo. 106 WallSt., N.Y [#40 pat RAILROADS, PENNSYLVANIA RAILROAD, tn Mtation corner of sth and Bats, effect 4:00 p.m., November 25, 1894, 10:80 ‘AM. “PENNSYLVANIA LINUTED—Pan- man Sleeping. Dining, Smoking and Ubscrration Core, arg to Chicago, “Cincionatl, indian spolia, Chev aod Buffet Parlor Car 10:30" AME FAST LINE—Pallman Buffet Pare lor Car to Harrisburg. Parlor and Dining Cars, Marrisburg to, Pittsbu 8:10 PML. CHICAGO AND ST. LOUIS EXPRRSS— Pullman Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. Sleep- ing and Dining Cars, Harrisburg to St. Louis, Cincinnatl, Louisville and Chics é WESTER: HSS_punman 7:10 PAM. NEXPR ing Car to Chicago and Harrisbui claad, Dining Cat to Chicago, peidicoiey ae se soviltwesrens EXPRESS —Pull; Jee] ining Care to St. Louis and Sleeping Gar Hercishurg ‘to. Clncianati: 10:40 P.M. PACIFIC EXPRESS—Pullman Sleep- ng Car to iittaburg ig A.M. for “Kine, Canamtaigua, Roch ster ara Falis daily, except Sunday. A.M. for Elmira and Renovo daily, Sunda; For Williamsport daily, 3:40 p.m. ¢ or Williamsport, Rochester, Tuffalo, and Niagara Falls daily, except Saturday, with Sleep- ing Car Washi on to Rochester. 10:40 P.M. for Erie, Canandaigua, Rochester, Rut- Wachlogton Sta "sata, naa, “eee eae fishington to. Elmira, a a : Washington to Rochester, = ne ph! New York ond the Bnst. ‘CONGRESSIONAL —LIMITED,"* r Cars, with Dining Ca- from Baltimore, for New York gay for Philadelphix week days. inte SG ing or 9:05, 10:20, 11:00, 40 14:00 Limited), 10:40 ond 11:35 . 43 ~ &, and 4:36 p.m. 720, 9:00 and 11:50 a.m. and extent “Busiay. “eosassa” v0 Li Express for [tichmond, Sf tate 8: oe oe ° z x wn i02b) acon week iK for Quantico, 7:45 ‘a.m. daily vs, Vor “Alexandria, 4:30, 6:35, 7:43, 8: ae Wt and 4:25 p.m. week aa 10:57, 11:60 a.m’, 12:50, 5:37,'6:15, 8:02, 10:10 ae 4:30, 7240, 9:40 wee B streets, where orders @an be ing of baggage to destination botels SM. PREVOST, 4, R WOOD, General Manager. Passenger Agent. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect December 2, 1804. Trains leave daily from Union Station (B. and FP}, Oth and B ste. rough the dest io with pbs sales Raat eee ARs ice west frum Washington. 2: DAILY.—“Cincionat! and St, Louts —Solld Vestibuled, newly Equipped, Klec- ighted . Steam-beated train. Paneee's fhoest Siceping cars Washi to Ciucinnat!, Indi Us St. Lovis without change. Dining nington. Arrive Cincinuat!, §:00 a.m; % 11:40 a.m., and Chicage, 5:30 p.u.; 58 p.m, DAILY.—The famous “F. FV. Lim. lid _vestinaled train. with dintag car sleepers for Cincinnati, Lexington and Louisville, without change. Observation car from Hinton. ‘Arrives Cincinnath, 6:50° pat. ; im.; Louisville, D.m.; Indinnay Chlfago, 7:00 ti and St. Louis, 6:56 a.ta.; connects in Union points, 1:37 AML EXCRETE SUNDAY Mor Old Polat Comfrrt and ‘Norfolk. Ouly rail Une. 225 PM, DAILY.—Exp for Gordonsville, Charlottesville, W: ’, Staunton and principal ' js daily, except Sunday, for shich- uiond. Pullman locations tickets at company's of- fives, C18 uaa) D421 reausyt rapa a nh H. Ww. c) General Passeuger Agent Leave Wasbington from station corver of New Jersey avenue and © strect. Vestibuled Limited For Chicago and Northw: 2. St. Louis ard Sra, Vesti- a trains, 11:30 a.m., 8: ‘or Cinciunat Bem. 5 e: E te, ‘eapress je 14:30 Ws & ee F eae) Be FFF ashy, ie os jagerstown, a11:30 a.m. and a5:39 p.m Boyd and way peluts, *7:08 Gaithersburg’ abd. way pointe 00, 28:00 4:00, 04:83, 5:85," 97205," bos, Washington Junction and ts, Ox Songs Zea ont wee, ee, pe i siations oniy, a4.30, p.m. BLUE LIN BCI XBW. YORE AND BIA, For Philadelphin, New York, Boston and the cast, week days, 4.20, 0:00 a.m. Di 3:00 ‘Dining. Cary, 8:00, (6:00 Bint Car), S30. nist Sap he. baler din hes Se £20, (900'R.m. mire Gar), "8:00, @:00 Di "E00." Car,’ open for passeng ing Car), 8:00, (11:30 Sleeping Duster Parlof Garston all day" trata. 8 on t For Atiuntie City, 4:20 ‘am, 1000 a.m and Ee sig? 2 ag: rine OY A: 12:00 noon. 12:00 Except Sunday. “eDaily” * iSunisy” only. xExpress trains. Baggage called for und checked from hotels si residences Sy Union ‘Transfer Go, on orders left at ticket offices, 619 Pa. ave., New York ave. and 15th “hb Gaibnenn, — cuas. . B. + oO. nd Gen. Manager. an Base. Ast. “SOUTHERN RATLWAY Wiednont Atr Line.) Schedule in effect November 18, 1894, All trains arrive and leave at Pennsylvania Passenger Station. Manassas for Strasburg’ daliy. except fosds rasharg, ex > nd at Lynchburg with the Norfolk and. Western, 11:01 A.M.—Dally—The UNITED STATES FAST MAI carries Pulltoan ‘Ramet Sleepers New York and Washington to Jacksonvilie, ‘uniting nt Char. lotte with Pullman Sleeper for Augusta; also Pull- man Sleeper Nev. York to Montgomerg, with con- nection for Now Orleans; connects at Atianta with Pollman Si for Birmingham, Ala., Memphis, Tenn. and Kaneas City 2 4:45 P.M.—Daily for Charlottesville and through train for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday. 10:08 Tg Dally NEW YORK AND FLORIDA SHORT LINE LIMITED. Pullman Sleepers ington to Augusta and ‘Tampa and Pullman. Double Drawing Room Compartment Gar New York to St. Augustine. First-class day coaches Washington to St. Augustine without change. we 2 P. WASHT! AND § TH- Pullman _Vestibuled ners. Pullman S.eepers New York to Asheville and Hot Springs, N-C.. cia Sait New York to Mem- phis via Birmingham and » y Dining Car from via Atlanta and) Montgomery. ON WASHINGTON AND OmTO DI. Greenshoro’ to Montgomery. TRAINS VISION 4:82 P.M. dail sundays only, fo Hern don, ba Wat 8:34 AM. and 3:00 P.M. ‘daily from Round Hill, and 7:02 A.M. daily, except Sunday, from Herndon only. ; ath arrive at Washi ton 6:42 A.M., 7:42 A.M. 2:25 P.M. and 8:30 P.M. Manassas Division, 10:28 A.M. daily, except F, and 10:28 A.M. daily from Charlottesvile, Tickets, Sleeping Car reservation and information furnished at offices, 811 and 1300 Pennsylvania aver nue, and at Pennsylvania Rullroad Passenger Ste tion, W. H. GREEN, W. A. BORK. General Manager _ General Passenger Agent. ye L Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. POTOMAC RIVER BOATS. NORFOLK AND WASHINGTON STRAMBOAT €0., DAILY LINE BETWEEN WAStiLN DC, FORTRESS MONROE AND ORPOLK, VA, erful Tron Palace Steamers ON AND. NORPOLK, p.m, from foot of 6:30 Leave Washi on dally at 7 7th st. wharf, arrive at Fortress Monroe ai a.m. pext day. Arrive at Norfolk at where ratiroad connections are made for south and southwest, and with the Old N York, Merchants’ and 3) mers for Boston, Providence, Savannab, od Jacksonville, Fi. for tcurists aad inv dole at Ge pam Roary Fort Leave Norfolk at 6:10 pm. ave ress Muaroe at T:10, piv. Arrive at Washlagios at 6:30 a.m, next day. ‘Through tickets on sale at 51%, 619, 1421 Penn. Ui 1th st. n.w.. and ou board steamers af rt toot of th, ste Telephone No. 750. a13-tf Gen. Supt. STEAMER T. V. AKKOWSMITH, For ‘Laiwer Potomac River Landings. On Mouday und Wednesday a 0 On Saturday at. Return'ug, arrive NEW PALACE STRAMOR WARRY WANDALL Leaves River View wharf, Tth street, 8 Tuesday apd Thursday, at 7 a.m. ex as far down ‘as Maddoi Ga. elegant sca trip JNO. CALLAHAN, Keturning op days ound Fridays, 8 pm Paswoo- iS first-class. Freight received Telephone, 1765, . RANDALL, Proprietor ond. Manager. GEO. 0. CARPINTER, Gen. Agt., ‘Waahington, DB. O. LD.” F . ferry wharf. On Monday, Wednesday and Saturday, at 7 a.m. for river landings, to Colonial Beach} thence t: Wicomico river. Golton’s and Nemin! ‘creek. 0: Saturday, all above landings and Leouardtown anc St Clement ay wharves, (Returning on Tuesday 5 ‘1 Riga Bay iain