Evening Star Newspaper, December 29, 1894, Page 15

— THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 29, 1894—TWENTY PAGES. EPWORTH LEAGUE Installation of the Newly Elected Officers at Foundry. ABOUT THE NEW STANDARD BEARERS —— The Growth and Prosperity of the District League. :: AN EVENT OF INTEREST —_—.__—_ N EVENT OF IN- terest to the mem- bers of the District Epworth League will occur next Friday evening at the Foun- ary M. EB. Church. The occasion will be the monthly mass- meeting of the league and the especial in- terest will be deriv- ed from the fact that at this time the new SS CA__ officers who were re- tently elected will be formally installed. An attractive program of exercises has besn arranged. In addition to special mu- sical numbers, consisting of solos, quar- tets and so forth, there will be the presen- tation of banners to the senior and junior chapters showing the largest gain during the year In membership, and then the in- stallation of the new officers by Prof. C. M. Lacey Sites, president of the fourth general conference, District League, will . B, Mathews, President. take place. There will be a consecration prayer by the presiding elder, Rey. Dr. Wilson, and three-minute addresses by the newly installed officers. The remainder of the evening will be devoted to social en- Joyment. Arrengements for this meeting are being made by Foundry Chapter, and it is ex- pected that the various chapters will be represented by large delegations. Since the organization of the Washington District Epworth League of the Baltimore conference, in January, 1890, 1t has con- tinued to steadily increase in membership. ‘The twenty-six chapters include two Y. P. C. EB. societi nd one chapter of the Epworth League from the Methodist Episcopal Church South, which are affili- ated with the District League. Of the 2,436 members, 1,085 are actively engaged in the work, 402 are associate, and 49-are honorary members. The Juntor League !s a prominent ad- Junct, having been organized in fifteen of the churches, and numbers 842 members, making a total membership of 3,278. This number does not include all the Epworth suers in this city, as the District ue of the Washington conference of the African M. ©. Church has over 2,000 Members in the senior and junior societies. The twelve monthly mass-meetings of last year had an aggregate attendance of $000 The aggregate average attendance at the devotional meetings in the various chapters was over 10,000 for the year. Over 4,000 visits were made to the sick by the mercy and help departments, and over $700 in money, clothing and provisions were distributed to the poor. The Epworth League Oratorical Asso- ciation is a branch of the work of the literary department. It has been on at- tractive feature, as well as Instructive, The second annual contest for the District championship will be heid at Hamitne M. E. Church about February 15 Repre- sentatives from Foundry, Waush, Douglas, Hamiine and Metropolitan will compete for the prize. ‘The board of controi consists of the Dis- trict officers and the presidents of the local chapters, and meets on the first Wednesday of each month. At these meetings plans of work ure presented and discussed. William Burdette Mathews, the new pres- ident, was born in Marshall county, W. Va., August 27, 1866. He graduated from the Mounisville High School in 1883, and from Waynesburg (Pa.) College in 1586, receiving the degree of A. M. in 188%. He taught school six years and was one of the county examiners of teachers two years. He came to Washington in 1800, and has since been an employe of the census office. He took both law courses in Columbian University. He was admitted to the bar of the Supreme Court of the District of Co- lumbia April 18, 182, and to the Court of Appeals upon the organization of that tri- Mrs. Winner. Dunal. He Is a member of LafayetteLodge, Mount Vernon Chapter, and_ Washington Council of Masons, and of Gen. John A. Logan Camp, 8. V. Ever since he has been In the elty Mr. Mathews has been a member of Foundry M. E. Church, and fs now a teacher in its Sunday school, and is president of the local chapter of the Epworth League. He is chairman of the White Cross Army of the Y. M. C. A: and is active in Christian work among young people. J. S. Barker, the first vice president, ts a native of the District of Columbia.” He comes of good Methodist stock, his ma- ternal grandfather, the Rev. D. A. Shepard, having been in the Methodist ministry for over fifty years. His first Sunday school and church relations were with the Meth- odist Church in Uniontown, or Anacostia, as the town Is now known, where he united with the church on probation in 1876. In 1880 he united with Wesley Chapel, where he has since retained his membership. Mr. Barker {s now the first assistant superin- tendent of the Sunday school of this church, which position he has held for five or six ears, and the first vice president of the Epworth League, the latter office having been held by him since the organization of the chapter. Miss Fannie Meeks, the second vice prest- Gent, has been identified with the District Epworth League since its organization. She was the first secretary of the league, which office she filled for two years. She is a member of McKendree M. E. Church, a teacher in the Sunday school, and an active worker in all departments of church work. Harry O. Hine, the third vice president, enters upon the second year of his work at the head of the literary department. having been elected to fill an unexpired term m March, IMM. Mr. Hine ts connected with Waugh Chapter, and has been most actively identified with the Iterary devel- opment of the leaguers at Waugh,acting as their third vice president for the past two years. He ts the leading spirit In an enthusiastic Chautauqua Circle which meets weekly. Mr. Hine Is the president of the Epworth League Oratorical Assoctation of the District of Columbia. Mrs. J. R. Mickle, the fourth vice presi- dent, was formerly,a member of McKen- dree Church, but for the past seven years has been one of the most useful members of Hamline. She ts particularly adapted to the work of the social department, of which, as fourth vice president, she is the head. She served as fourth vice president of Hamline Chapter for the past four years with mark*d ability and success. She is a talented musician and has been chor- F. T. Israel, Secretary. ister of Hamline Sunday school for five years. ‘The music at the meeting Friday evening will be under her direction, Hedding Bishop Leech, the District su- perintendent Junior Epworth League, is a son of Rey. George. V. Leech, D.D., of the Baltimore conference Methodist Episcopal Church. He joined the Methodist Episco- pal Church at Annapolis, Md., in 1886, and was secretary of the Oxford League at Frederick, Md., 1888-89. He was president of the Epworth League, Frostburg, Md., chapter 1840, during the year 15), and president of the Epworth League at Go- vanstown, Md., chapter 6618, from its or- ganization, in August, 1891, to September, 1892. He ‘came to Washington, and on January 1, 1893, joined the Douglas Me- morial Church, corner lth and H streets northeast, and was elected a trustee of the church in March, 1894. He was ap- pointed superintendent of the Junior League at Douglas in April, 184, and was elected president of the Douglas Epworth League, chapter 5338, on December 14, 1S¢4, to serve for the year 1805. He was a dele- gate to the Pittsburg convention in May last. F. T. Israel was elected secretary No- vember 22, 1893, and was re-elected at the last convention. He hac been actively en- gaged in church and Epworth League work since 1800. He assisted In the organiza- tion of Epworth League chapters at* Benk- elman, Neb., January, 1590, and at Cul- bertson, Neb., in April of the same year. Coming to this city in June, 1890, he united with McKendree M. E. Church, taking an active part in the church and Sunday school work. He was recently elected president of McKendree Chapter. Mrs. J. A. Winner, formerly Miss A. K. Roller, was elected treasurer of the Dis- trict League in November, 1893, and was re-elected for another year at the last convention, When she took charge of the finances of the District League it was in debt $136. The treasurer's report made to the last convention showed that this debt had been paid with other disbursements amounting to $283, and a cash balance on hand of $53. She is a member of the Fif- teenth Street M. E. Church, and has been second vice president of the league in this church since 1891; a teacher in the Sun- day school, and actively engaged tn the cause of missions and temperance work. The assistant secretary, Henry A. Davis, has been actively engaged in Sunday school and Epworth work since 1883. He was born in Greensville, S. C., and came to this Hedding Bishop Leech, Juntor League. city last January, and is with Woodward & Lothrop. He is connected with Epworth Church, ith and A streets northeast, and is second vice president of the ieague of this church. ——— A PHYSIC CHRISTMAS. The Unexpected Outcome of the Visit of an Anxious Patieat. From the New Ycrk Express. A physicjan who has to do with the treatment of the insane has a variety of experiences that do not always come within the purview of the general practitioner. I recall one that has no particular moral or application, but as it happened one Christmas day twelve years ago, you may find it interesting as illustrative of one of the many curious phases of insanity. I remember I was reading in my office early in the morning, when a visitor was an- nounced, who sent word he wished to see me at once and on important business. I laid aside my book and invited him in. He looked like an honest, hard-working me- chanic. “It is rather a painful subject for me, doctor,” he said, “but I have thought it over for several days, and finally made up my mind that the best thing I could do would be to consult a physician who un- derstood insanity. I have been directed to come to you. I would like you to pass your opinion on my wife's mental condi- tion. She has exhibited symptoms of in- sanity for a long time, and has now be- come so viclent that I am actually in fear o- my life. I want to send her to an asy- jam where she will be-well treated, and where she may be cured.” My visitor spoke in a tone that was half fearful and half solicitous. He gave me an address in the tenement district on the East Side. I told him my engagements would not permit me to visit his home for a day or two, but that I would go as soon as I could. fo other time but 9 o'clock would do. His wife was at home during the day, he said, but for reasons which he would not *xplain he did not want the examination made then. We went in very quietly and sat down in the front room that served for a parlor, The hushand, who was rather an under- sized man, was trembling from head to foot. ‘He partly screened himself behind the policeman. “Well,” said I, “where 13 the patient?” Just as I spoke a bjg, buxom Irishwoman came in, wiping her hands on her apron. “Good evenin’ to yez,” she said, with a sood-natured smile, “an’ what"—at that moment she caught sight of me. I declare,” said she, coming for- ward, “an’ sure, here is Docther Gray. An’ how are ye, docther? Sure I haven't lald eyes on ye since ye sent Jimmy there to the asylum. Poor sowl! He got better an’ they let him out, but he’s as bad as ever now. I turned quickly and got a good look at the man’s face before he darted for the door, which he did the moment his wife opened her mouth. I had forgotten him entirely, but when the woman recalled the case I remembered having signed a certifi- cate testifying to his insanity three or four years before. He was a paranoalc, and the logical de- lusion that possessed him was sufficiently ingenious to deceive me, which it did, as I have related. ——_—_++—_____ One Week for One Joke. Frem Tid-Bits. “One day,” says an American, “I went into a book shop in the Strand and asked for Hare's ‘Walks in London.’ In America the book fs sold In one thick volume. The clerk brought in two. “‘Oh,’ I said, as I looked at them, ‘you part your ‘Hare’ in the middle, do you?’ ” bt sir?’ he said, with a bewildered look. ‘Oh, no, sir!" “I saw he didn’t see the joke, so I didn’t explain, but bought the books and went away. A week later I went to the same shop. As soon as the clerk saw me he rushed from the back of the shop, laugh- ing vocifercusly. “Good! he shouted. ‘Capital! Part your ‘Hare’ in the middle!’ That's capital, sir; capital THEY ARE MANEATERS Some Twenty Million Cannibals in the Congo Free State. AUNITED STATES AGENT'S EXPERIENCE The Custom of Burying FP. p With a Dead Chief. TRADE OPPORTUNITIES SeaeereeY ae Written for The Evening Star. R. DORSEY MO- hun, United States commercial agent to the Congo Free State, has just re- turned to this city, after two very ex- citing years in the dark continent. He has brought’ with him some wonderful stories of battle and adventure, a large collection of trophies and curiosities, and much interesting information. Just at Present he occusies a desk at the State Department, where he is preparing a re- port that will be submitted to Congress. “Twenty millious of people in the Congo Free State are ei.ters of human flesh,” said Mr. Mohun the other day. “That is about four-fifths of the entire population. Canni- balism is strictly forbiddea by the govern- ment of the country, but 900 white men ere not able to exercise a very complete control over such a vast number of sav- ages occupying 1,000,000 square miles of territory. Individuals are caught in the iy and punished with death. One day in last May, as I chanced to en- ter a village that lay on the route of my expedition, the natives fled precipitately. I was at a joss to know the reason why until I discovered in one of the houses certain evidences of a big family feast. ‘Trey had been cooking a man, and one of his legs was in a pot over the fire. “I lost no time in throwing pot and all into the ci fhé man’s head war stuck on a fence. Among these people it is the custom tc head of a victim in this way for tour or tive days, at the end of which it serves for a stew. The brain is highly esteemed, but it must be half putrid. I managed to catch the chief of he village and gave him up to the author- He was tried on the charge of can balism and was afterward hanged, L be eve. The man tvhom I found potted was a slave and had been purchased for food. Some of the tribes commonly buy slaves | to eat, just like pigs or chickens, fattening them on bananas, palm oil other nu trit provender, and killing them when they are in suitable condition. A Living Borial do the slaves think of It, you ask? Well, they do not seem to mind very much. In Africa such things are looked upon from a different point of View. I once saw fourteen persons buried alive, and they exhibited the utmost indifference to their fate. A great chief had died, and, according to custom, it was necessary that his favorite wives and some of his slaves | should accompany him to his future abode. Accordingly, @ hole was dug in the ground about as large as a (air-sized room, and in the middie of it the corpse of the au- gust defunct was placed. One of his wives descended into the excavation and squatted cross-legged at his head; another wile squatted at his feet, and two more wives | disposed themselves similarly on either side of him. His body was done up » about a tnousand yards of cloth. This was an evidence of his wealth, for cloth money in savage Africa. “In the hole, forming a circle aro corpse, squatted ton slaves, Neith nor the four wives manifested any concer abeut their appr evidently r Up to the e quite elabo! or make a struggle. gan to throw back th which was to be a gr well as for the de continued untit ‘overed up and While the hole was be was a continuous and vu loo, with shouting, ¢ “What | | is | to the pit. » living as = | ating or I not interfere? s not h. My escort n “i only | a few men, and I could not have prevent the tragedy, while any attempt on my pa 1 that di on would probably have ¢ my own life. The living burial I have scribed was cn a small scale compe with similar sacrifices that are mac time to time at the funerals of native tentates. It often happens t tious passing through the cou the villages slaves with wood their ankles. They wear such clogs prevent them from escaping while the being fattened for eating. When thu: covered by white men y are always s frec and permitted to escape. The Natives Are Cowardly. “Prisoners of war do not appear to any | great extent on the savage bill of fare in the Congo basin. -The natives are not much addicted to intertribal conflicts. Or- dinarily, if there is trouble between two tribes, two warriors are chosen by each side, and they fight it out. The combat settles she controversy, the village whose men are beaten acknowledging itself de- feated. These savages in a battle fight at such long range that the carnage is con- sidered terrific if one or two men are killed. ‘They are great cowards. On one occasion, with only four guns, 1 did not hesitate to attack atout twenty villages. A mail bag was stolen from my camp at night. The loss was very serious, inasmuch as the bag contained a lot of mail for the upper Congo, as well as note books and other papers belonging to myself. “| made a demand upon the local chief for the return of the bag. My request was not acceded to, ard so I proceeded to wage war on the whole country thereabout. I made my way along the river in a small steamboat, attacking and burning one vil- lage after another. I destroyed ten or twelve of them in this manner. Finally, I captured the chief's son, and sent word to his father that I would hang the young man if the bag and its contents were not forthcoming by the next mornirg. The re- sponse was very prompt this time. To my surprise, two mail bags were returned to me. Oddly enough, I had not missed the second one. You will easily understand that in the Congo Free State, which has an organized government and a sovereign in the person of the King of the Belgians, an ordinary traveler would not be permitted to make war upon the natives in such fashion. But I had official authority and discretionary power, being recognized as representing the United States. My busi- ness being to find out about the commer- cial resources and requirements of the country, it was necessary for me to go all through it. Some Native Fetiches. “Of the 1,400 natives in my party about 700 were women. I would never go on an expedition in Africa without taking women along. They are most useful to carry food and other burdens. In order that the men shall fight well and be contented, tt is necessary that they shall not be asked to carry loads My dug-out canoe was a fine affair, It was seventy-five feet long and made from a single log. There was room for forty paddlers, in addition to whom it carried thirty soldiers and their wives—in all 125 people, with baggage, &c. In this craft thus loaded we could go faster than any steamer on the Congo. A com- — house of grass was built on board of her. “The collection which I brought back with me includes a good many interestin, things. I have some wooden figures oi men and women which are fetiches. The natives do not exactly worship them, but burn things before them for some purpose having to do with the supernatural which I was never able to understand. They never hesitate to sell them. In the lower Congo when a person is suspected of theft @ nail is jabbed into the heart of such a | more terril | of | wholiy roi tau ana tne enpontuen fe et] A DARING BURGLAR every tribe there is@:fetieh house, in which fetiches are kept and eared for by the fetich man. The latter is a sort of doctor, and he will sell poisens to people who de- sire to get rid of enemies: For such doings the Congo Free State has hanged several fetich men. Now and then it happens that the people of a tribe will turn upon their fetich man and kill him/if he has become too outrageous. “If we wish to promote a trade for our- selves with the Congo we must begin by establishing trading houses there, supply- ing them with American goods. The most important commercial article in that part of the world 1s cotton cloth, the best of which is known as ‘Americai,’ because the finest cotton cloth used to be brought to the Congo from America. But now nearly all of it is made in Manchester, England. Other articles in demand are brass wire, beads, knives, forks, tin plates and rum. But there is no demand for rum in the in- terior, where fermented palm sap is pre- ferred as an intoxicant, Copper Wire as Money. “On the other hand, we can get from the Congo rubber as good as that from Para; also ivory and gum copal for var- nish. The copal is a fossil gum like am- ber; it looks like amber and is dug out of the ground. The talk you hear to the effect that elephants are becoming ex- tinct in Africa is nonsense. There are plenty left to furnish all the ivory that is wanted for fifty years to come. A great deal of dead ivory is still coming to the coust—that Is to say, ivory from elephants that have been dead for a long time. It name to distinguish it ivory furnished by ele- phants newiy killed to obtain tusks for market. In the interior I myself saw an entire stockade built of elephants’ tusks, and there are many others like it. “Brass wire is the medium of exchange generally used in the Free State. It is man- ufactured in Europe for this purpose and usually comes in rolls of 78 pounds’ weight. The rolls are carried into the interior by natives, one of them being a sufticient load for u man. Finally, they are dis- tributed among the trading houses and are cut up into short lengths so as to serve the purpose of coins. A roll contains alout 150 yurds of wire. The wire is made into bracclets and anklets and is some- times beaten out for utensils. Chiefs store great quantities of it. Its introduction to the country as a medium of barter was a great mistake, because the chiefs get pos- session of large amounts of it, and, feeling that they are rich, become very inde- pendent and cheeky. Cioth is much better for this pur *, because it will not last from the “gree indefinitely. Along the tributaries of the Congo the tribes still use cowrie sheiis for money. The shells come fro} anzi- bar on the east coast and from St. Paul de Loanda on the west coast. Sheets of native iron are also used to a considera- ble extent in the Free State for money. Sometimes they are made in the form of spears, “Here is a neck rds’ teeth. The teeth are fro ch I killed myself, 1 shot a! fifty leopards, 1 think, and quite a score of elephants. Oh, yes, it is a great oc for the hun- ter” NE BACHE. => FRENCH AND ENGLISH FICTION, The Different by Writers of the 'fwo Nations. the From the Saturday Re’ It is curious ani the English and in this dispute as always, the interesting to nate that nch take opposi tes the English preferring now, mance, or rather its mod- j ern form, the novel of adventure, while the French take the keenest pleasure in the analysis of characters or passions playing within the frame of everyday life. Before attempting to decide which Is the better of hese two productions, it may be well to try and explain how the English came to choose the romantic and the French the realistic method, ‘The explanation seems to He on the sur- face, to be seen by any one who considers the circumstances of the two peoples. The English is a colonizing race that seeks ad- ventures and finds tliem of the globe. If Engtishmen do net push across pathless for ‘to conquer dragons and deliver fair maiden or piunge into sunless sea caves to War with monsters than any to be found in up- | per air, it is simply true to say that the | dang have only assumed new forms. fevers and famines in India or toiling for-a livelihood on the frozen pla: Manitoba; seeking gold amid the ra orms of Mushonaland or the baked waterless wastes of West Austr te Briton’s life is apt to be one of § Fighting at vicissitudes, do with even’ strange | as those which, in the telling, charmed Desdemona, It is not to be wondered at that the that most loves adv kee! the un! and feels me fascination of nd perils, s the prefer works of art tha ‘ r passion; there is noth haps, produced b ‘Amen s si son Cr The novel of e#d- venture is still, us it has always been, the chief type ‘of English creative work in prose The F h ideal of prose corr it doe snch 38 and clearness his birth, with a ensualit ily conceded to him by rtor literature. fiction, for the m. characteristic embodies the charac- model of his pr piece embodying hi »binson Crus teristics of Englishmen, we must go not to “Gil Bl: with its Spanish in: but to “Manon Lescaut.” — Eve knows the story of the Chevalier des Grieux and his passionate love of Manon; ry one knows, too, how Manon's light- ness and gayety tortured and fascinated her lover; how the chevalier’s parents made common cause with the authorities of Paris to separate the devoted pair, and how they failed. No ove who has ever read it can have forgotten the story of Manon's death in that American desert and of the chevalier's Inconsolable grief. This great work resembles “Robinson Crusoe” in nothing save the fidelity to life of its character drawing. Robinson Crusoe is a finer study of an individual man, far more intimate, soul revealing and elaborate than the somewhat careless, sketchy portrait of Des Grieux. — But Manon can be classed, perhaps, even highe> than Robinson Crusoe as a portrait taken from life. The varying fortunes, too, of the French lovers are conditioned by their characters and by the circumstances of the time, and are not to be compared in strangeness and physical excitement with the wholly accidental adventures which called forth Crusoe’s indomitable energy Both books are acknowledged mast: pieces, and the charm of the one for ma- ture readers is certainly not surpassed by the fascination which the other exercises over the imagination of boyhood. ++ —_—_—_ Easy Hunting in Maine. From the Dally Kennebec Jotrnal. Bangor has become a clearing house for hunters who don’t wish to hunt. A Con- necticut man came there a few days ago, loafed around the sunny corners until he got tanned, bought an old rusty gun and equipments, went to the market and bought three fine-lookiig degr, ,hired a guide to post him on scenery, distances, locations, trails, &c., and then returned to the nutmeg state to rehearse his thrilling experiences in the depths of the wild fogests of Maine. see After Reading. From Life. “TI only got five dollars for that poem. “If that was my poem, Mr. Penscratch, I wouldn't have let ‘em print it for five hundred dollars.” in every quarter | he | A TRUE ACCOUNT. WRITTEN EXCLUSIVELY FOR THE EVENING STAB BY A LADY. —— + ELL, WE HAVE 4 : WV ma our burglar! He Zi certainly came at last, went through the house, even my own room, and I live = to write, let alone tell, the tale. The event did not sur- prise me one littie bit. Often and again I have told my hus- band that I knew we would be robbed, would have our own burglar story to tell, as well as our neigh- bor’s, and he has laughed scornfully: Poor George. How does he feel now? Just as much afraid as I ever was, I verily be- lieve, for he has been at all the trouble and expense to get solid shutters for the whole house, patent, double locks on the doors and alarm traps all over the place. Then George has done what I would never have thovght of doing, bought a six-bar- relled revolver, and two huge mastiffs. He is really depressed. He, the gay, cheerful George, who never before had a pain, much less a scare! But, no wonder; it is a change from that Saturday nigit, when he me home from Washington with all that money, just drawn from the bank. Now, I hate having money in hand. For one thing, it aiways suggests so many things to buy, and I get tired to death by a day passed in town. But, George said, who knows what may not happen in these times. I don’t trust any thing, or any body. I want some money where I can put my hand on it, and i will not deposit again until the tariff question is settled once and forever. George began talking this way during the time of all that fuss over the “repeal which, he believed, would make so much difference about money, but I have never seen that these questions affect our money matt rs one way or the other, and I believe in banks, good banks, of course, and I think a bank account a most com- forting thing Now. 1 know we live in an exposed, unprotected place—that ts, exposed to tramps.” Our house stends in the tri- angle made by thre reads, one being the river turnpike, a mile and a half dis- tant by way of our broad avenue of cherry and locust trees. ‘This old Virginia mansion, too, posed, especially, by its very construction, designed for other times and cusivias. "A wide, central hall runs through the length of the main building, and the rooms on either side have long windows, opening on the surrounding galleries. ‘The farm house is half a mile away, the coach house a little nearer. Perkins, the farmer, is slow and dull, and the hands always heavy, tired men. Our dogs ought to be a safeguard—a mongrel, a terrier and a collie—for they certainly do bark from dawn till twilight, at every real or imag nary distant passer-by, and we also had one grand modern imprevement in the house—an elecitic plant, with lights and bells everywh This was my suggestion; indeed, T may arnest petition, presented daily ant for many months, when my hus- in his own generous way of the true | Virginia gentleman, granted me the indul- | gency “It will be a good thing when the bur- glars come,” said I, when we turned on the lights and rang ali the bells the first time | after the work of putting them in was all done, and I was well snubbed for the re- mark, I remember. Strangely enough, George had not thought of the possibility of that occurrence wher | he arranged the buttons apparently with direct reference to the event of the bur- giary; but I thought of tt. Four bell but- tons are set in a line at the right-hand side of my bed. One calis the farmer, one the coachman, one rings for the servants, with signals, from below stairs, one calls them from above. On the same line, at my left hand, are the four little screws that turn on the central ights. One turn lights the first | the second floor, a_ third | galleries and the fourth illumi- the : venue. husband does well to indulge me, for eed a sufferer. re one,” as the New aid, and indeed Tm malaria and quinine, I have become a s I have red a whole ve liked a whole house, to night. When I cannot sleep, as on the vase, I sit up 2nd rez or around, move the furniture, get something to eat and stir the fire il | Lam completely exhausted, and then I ie | still, my eyes and listen, listen, for | hours—and sometimes to the most ap- palling sovnds. it was Saturday night, and we had re- tired rather earlier than usual, for orge | was weary after his day in town, and the ove had been coon hunting with the dog: all the night before. George and I had our good-night tea in | the north parlor, that is T had my usual parting cup of tea, and George his night | cap of hot rum and water that he recom- | mends so highly to poor sleepers, and we left the beys bickering in a brotherly way over a game of piquet in the library. Now, my room, remember, is over the drawing room; the boys have the chamber above the library; George the large south room at the head of the stairs, and all these rooms-open into the central hall to- ward the stairway. 1 dismissed my maid, as usual, put out my light and composed myself ‘to slovp. The night was very still, and just as I was dropping off the dogs began to bark. George was already sleeping heavily, as I could hear, but I called loud enough to wake him. ‘George, get up, I hear the dogs bark- “I hear them, too, baying at the moon. “George, dear, do wake up; there is no moon.” was sound asleep again. tired his sleep did sourd. But the dogs kept barking in a low, wor- rying tone that alarmed me, and I called again. “Dearest, the dogs are surely barking at some one; please do get up.” “Oh, r-t-rats,” mattered George, faintly, and I resigned myself to a sleepless nizht, for I am more afraid of even the word rat than of either firearms er burghers, I must have dozed at last, however, for I remember no more till I was awakened by a slight sound—no, by a light, or was it a light or a close, unpleasant odor? At first 1 could not tell. I could dis ly see the face of my little gilded French clock on the mantel, opposite my bed, standing out by itself as if illuminated. Why was that, I wondered in a sort of dream. The phos- phorized alabaster match safe hanging near had never shown up as the clock did now. And while my eyes were still fixed on it it faded away. Presently a bluish, misty ray glided slowly and steadily across the front of a brass-bound chest of draw- ers that stood next beyond the mantel, touching th> locks and handles of the dif- ferent drawers, and then dimly lighting up the boxes and jewel caskets on the cab- inet above. ‘The central Hight or flame that fed these rays was obscured by some solid, inter- yening object, and as the bluish rays pass- ed along I became conscious of a stealthy step and perceived the odor of smoldering kerosene. The burglar had come at last; yes, with- out doubt, he was there. The hooded light, the stealthy tread, the sickening, oily stench, could mean nothing else. And George, my husband, and my boys. Where were they? Sleeping, safe and sound, as I could hear, and breathed a prayer of heartfelt gratitude. ‘The diamond star George gave me on our wedding day, my mother's ornaments and the twin baby porringers were in that chest of drawers. Let them go; let the thief have them all, and welccme, I thought, so long as my dear ones are unharmed. The burglar’s movements now became clearly perceptible to my sharpened hear- ing. I knew the creature had crept over to the dressing table. There were the sil- ver toilet set the boys gave me at Christ- mas, my rings and various pins and trink- ets fastened on the pin cushion. “Take them—take every one,” I whispered men- stars, then,” murmured George,and Poor fellow, how nervors | tally, “and I shall rejoice, so long as my husband and the boys ars not exposed to your murderous attack.” My very best Ting, the sapphire and diamond—our en- gagement ring—was on my finger, and this I did slip off and noiselessly poke away down to tho foot of the bed. But I was in- stantly aware that the burglar knew I had stirred, for the light disappeared and he stood stock still, “I must act as if I were asleep, thought, and turning slightly on my I began breathing, slowly and regularly, in the cadence I kuew by heart from listening to George so often. As 1 breathed that muffled motion at the other side of the room began again; the stealthy step, the tinkling rings, the’ shadowy light, shining row on this and row on that familiar ob- ject. Just now the tall clock in the hall struck two loud strckes that resounled throvgh the whole house. Under cover of this sound the robber tried the drawers more vigorously. They were not locked, but resisted enough to set all the handles jJangling, and he stopped again instantly znd cut went the light. During these moments of intense excite- ment my hand had wandered again and again toward the silk tassel above my pil- low, a touch on which would ring the silver bell at my husbana’s bedside and bring him to my side. But, as often as my hand made this automatic move, as often I desisted, determined that my darlings should be ex- posed to no peril that I could prevent. But a grave alarm assailed me. I had up to this moment commanded my breathing completely; no baby could have seemed in softer, more perfect slumber than I as- sumed; but I gradually felt myself growing unable to control this longer. It seemed to me that my. very breath would burst out in sobs or moaning. Oh, would this fumbling, prowling fiend, with his ghastly, ignus fatu- us light, and sickening smell, never go? A sigh, turned into the semblance of agsnore, escaped my heart, and I turned # little more on my side, nearer to the line of the electric buttons. Thoughts and impuises now throbbed through my brain so loudly that I feared he must hear the beats. It wos hard to submit so tamely. But to ring for the servants, the coach- men or the farmer would bring them p mell. George and the beys, suddenly aroused, would come stumbling in. That pistol! those rifles! No, come what would, that should not happen. Creak, creak, sounded the quick, stealthy tread; tinkle, tinkle, the jingling bras and then the bluish light fell on a skinny brown hand, with long, grabbing -ilngers, reaching out toward the casket where my bridal pearls were kept. This scraway, strange hand, showing Itself out of the darkness, greedily fingering my most pre- cious treasures, had the effect, oddly enough, of benumbing my fears, and the thought darted through my mind that as the servants so seldom answer the first bell by dy, so now, by night, in my dire emergency, might also be trusted not to and with careful determination I hed my hand straight out, In the derk and as steadily and noiselessly as the bur himself, I found the electric but- on that rings furthest off, in the butlers bluish, purplish haze had now reach- ed the handles of the drawers at the te! of the cabinet, where the children’s things and I saw those brown, thievish fir jose on the box that held my babies’ 1s and litle gold sleeve clasps; then z ou cor pressed the button—not sO very hard, enough to ring the distant bell—slighuy The light dropped, like a shot, and the room became awfully still; 1 dared not even breathe now, for 1 knew that the robber had heard the. bell. But, in those movements I passed trom the henumbed state to the desperate. 1 de- termined to ring the bell until he wa gone, and pressed the button down wit iny might and main, There was no misiak- ing the shrill,” clear ring that resounded through the house, like a spirit clarion. For one instant the burgiar stood as still as a rock, no doubt recognizing the alarm and trying to make out the direction it came from, “O,” thought 1, “if he only kuew,” Keeping my finger on the button, and the beli sounded on and on. The burglar had dropped his light, and with no farther attempt at disguise, fied, two steps at a bound down the creaking stairs. ‘A swinging hinge, then a heavy thud in the gallery told me when he was fairly outside, and at last I grasped the silk cord, with both hands, screaming, “burg- lar, stop thief,” ete., at the top of my voice. The cord broke in my hands, but I flung myself against the double row of electric buttons. Every bell in the place responded, and my three protectors rushed in more or less awake, but Kind and solicitous. The usual soothir reassuring words e , “ie down, darling, and go to take care of the burglar,” and rge, Ro down and barricade the he'll come again,” I screamed, at of my voice, and “just to quiet the three men did wal down the efore they had reached the lowe , however, their tranquility was dis- turbed by a quick rush of cold, amination wa raised with a small jimmy, and the lonp windows in the library were fiaring wid: apart, plainly left fo e. A vain at- yt had been made to break open the safe in the dining room, where th old plate is score 1 silver and everyt | board w room, case were not to | rvants all came down, added to ti fusion, a the men, of course, were e the thief and bring him to justice. | I had thought of this when they first |went down stairs, and from my post aumeng my pillows turned on the electric lights that make our galleries as light as day and Mluminate the avenue to the turn- pike. George scolded me, for turning on the light made t pursuit impossible, for while he and the boys could be seen dis- tinctly by the robbers, those brigands had a fair chance to get away in the dark shadow of the trees. George’s own room was in a state of chaos twice confounded; the pistol had been carefully removed’ from under his pillow with his watch; his pockets emptied, and, alas, that package of money hidden among his flannels in the under drawer was gone with the rest. The same con- fusion reigned in the boys’ room; they fortunately had little to lose; but it was mortifying to their pride to see the repeat- ing rifies carefully “stacked” in the corner of the room. The dogs had disappeared mysteriously; but they came to light the next morning behind the coach house, evidently sleeping off the effects of a “composing draught.” I was really the only one who escaped all loss. The burglar had gathered up the little trinkets and toilet things on. the dressing tabie and put them in a bag, but in his hurried flight dropped the bag on the stairs, where my Dick found it, the contents safe. We passed a wild night, for my husband and the boys were so wrought up and ex- cited that I had the greatest difficulty in getting them calmed down, and, indeed,did rot succeed until Aunt Rachel came’ up with a pot of hot coffee, which they drank, and then caught @ ‘short morning nap after, : The twins were furious to think of the burglars escaping, and have reproached me for not having let them get “one shy at the scoundrel;” but, when I look at their lithe, graceful limbs, smooth skins and straight noses,I cannot be thankful enough that my sweet boys ran no risks in such an encounter, Indeed, for a woman who literally has no nerves at all, and could-never before bear so much as a mouse in my room at night, I think I came off remarkably well, for I have never felt better than since that dreadful experience. George's nerves hive been much upset by the robbery, and he talks about it until I am tired. He has never told me how much money he really lost, but one good result has come of it, for the very next day he went to town, carrying his strong box, and I saw a little fresh book on his table with “West National Bank” printed on it. So I know he has opened a new ac- count, though the politicians do say that “the ‘tariff question is not half settled yet.” ae Rubinstein and Munkacsy. From the London Globe. Of all the anecdotes of which Rubinstein was the hero, none amused him more than the following: When Munkacsy’s “Christ Before Pilate’ was shown in New York, a reporter called on the picture dealer to whom it belonged te interview him on the subject of the painter, He was received by | a clerk, who remarked, among other things, that Munkacsy was the greatest painter “since Rubens’ time” Now, the reporter, who was grossly Ignorant of art, had re: cently been writing on Rubinstein, and ac- cordingly the interview, when it appeared, contained the startling statement that Munkacsy was the greatest puizter since Rubinstein. SINGERS’ FORTUNE: . Different From Now in the Early Days of Opera, From the London Telegraph. An inquiry into the varied fortunes of famous prima donnas would be a fascinat- ing subject for the artistic biographer. In the early days of Italian and French opera the principal female artists were very poor- ly paid; in England the prima donna was somewhat cavalierly called the “first sing- ing woman,” and her salary rarely exceed- ed £8 a week. One of the earliest perform- ers of the kind was a young lady known es “Margherita,” or Margheretta, who flour- ised in the reign of Queen Anne, and who svems to have made considerable sums in Addition to hor earnings at the theater in the Haymarket as a solo singer at the houses of the nobility and gentry; but un- til late in the eighteenth century the sti- pends of the “first singing women” were in- significant in comparison with the prodig: ious sums bestowed on tho male “soprani. The most notable of these was Cario Bro- echi, surnamed Farinelli, in consequence, it is supposed, of his father having been a niiller, He was a pupil of the famous Por- pora, and im 1834, his master having been appointed director of the London italian opera, Farirelli visited England, from which he took away after a campaign of almost unexampled brilliancy many thous- ands of pounds. In Paris, two-years aft ward, his enchanting vocalization succeed- ed in dispelling the musical apathy of Louis XV; but it was fa Spain that he achieved his greatest triumphs. He went to Madrid with the intention of remaining ‘ive weeks, and he stopped there twenty- five years. Philip V had been for a long period a prey to the deepest hypochondria, but at the entreaty of the queen Farinelli sang repeatedly before the eiilicted mon- who, roused from his somber melan- bade the artist name whatever re- arch, he should be sufficiently recompensed if his majesty would get shaved and preside at the next cebinet council. He became the courtly as well as the artistic favorite of the king, but in 1771, when he was visited in the Spanish capital by Dr. Burney, the father of the inimitable authoress of * elina,” the soprano mournfully told the Snglish physician the price which he had to pay for his favor at court. Philip only liked four songs, and this quartet of dit- ties Farinelli h to sing to his majesty y evening! After an absence of twen- eight years Farinelli returned to hie na- tive country and built himself a magnifi- cent palace at Bologna, but he found hism- self alone in the world, without family and without friends, and his only solace was to converse with the foreigners, especially the English, who came to see him. As regards lady artists of the lyric stage, the Orfeo in Gluck’s exquisitely beautiful opera of that name ought to have nade a large fortune; only, unfortunately, the vocalist who sang the captivating “Che faro senza Euridice” in Paris was not a ccntralto like the delightful Mile. Racogll, but a male counter-tenor named Legros, who sang detestably. To find a wealthy prima donna in the closing years of the last century there must be recalled Mme, irassini, a mezzo-soprano of supreme beauty ‘and musical genius as superb, whose singular fortune it was to win the hearts of both Napoleon the Great and the victor of Waterloo. Her portrait is at Ays- ley House. As for Giulia Grisi, that de- licious songstress made at least ‘three for- tunes on the continent, In England and in the United States; but, although she built for herself a beautiful yilla in the vicinity of Florence, she did not die possessed of great wealth, Mme. Banti, who was the contemporary of our Mrs. Rillington, and who had been in her girthood, like the tragedienne Rachel, a street daliad singer, gained and squandered immense treasures} but at her death ghe had little to leave be- yond her larynx, which she bequeathed to the academy at’ Bologna, Mrs. Billington herself, who had also an enthusiastic ad- mirer in Napoleon, is said to have :aade £10,000 in @ single year’s engagements; but she did not die in affluence. On the other hand, Mme. Catalini realized a prodigious fortune, which she was sensible enough to keep. Malibran died too early to have ac- quired a large fortune, but was ruined by the events of I8i8, was forced to return to the stage, and died in Mexico. Sophie Cruyelli was a favorite of fortune, while st least two English prima donnas rose to high rank as well ar to celebrity and amMu- ence. Lavinia Fenton, the original Polly of the “Beggar's Opera,” died Duchess of Bolton, and the fascinating Kitty Stephens Lecame Countess of Essex = see The Toust of the Evening. From the Youth's Companton. It is not always a pleasant thing to be called upon suddenly, to address a public necting of any sort, as is amusingly f- lustrated by the following speech of one who was certainly not born au orator at he opening of a free hospital: ontlemen—ahem—I-—I—I rise to say— tis, L wish to propose a toast, which I you'll cll hem—1_ think, . that cht as you'll say, toast of the oceasi entiemea, It to a good many of these things, an Jemen, that this hospital age—at icast, what i want any reecmmendation, only got to ba itl-got to be Ml, Now, geutiemen, 1 find by the report” (turning he leaves in a fidgety way) that from on—nO, eigh- en—no, ah, yes, I'm right—eightecn hun- dred and fifty—ao, it’s a three—thirty-si htean hundred and thirty-s no i hurdred and ninety-three a commiiteeman at thank you hety-three tho: fter a close serutiny of the “two hundred and thirty-one—one hundred and ninoty-three thousand, two hundred and thirty-one! Gentlemen, I beg to propose—success to this admirable in- stitution!” To what the large and variously stated figures referred, no one in his audience ever felt positive, but cll agreed, as he had said they would, that this was the toast of the evening. ah!” « undred millions—no” ani report), - —————— Why He Was Exonerated. From the Buffalo Courier. Coroner—"You swear positively that you are not to blame for this man’s death.” Dr. Tyro (haughtily)—“Cortainly, they did not call me soon enough.” ~-2ee- The Delusion. sirg From Life. so OE ~ pee Al (NOME Tang itoty at