Evening Star Newspaper, September 28, 1895, Page 14

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY,-SEPTEMBER 28, 1895-TWENTY PAGES. S.AZHNOW, Pry PLEASE DON ‘LEAr ON THE RoyAt TOMBS Or0E™ aK (as pee “Miwa? | wget Hi te m1) SF NN apve . oe, . = oft erttorn ~ AN UNEXCITING SCENE IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY. THE ELITE CEMETERY ——— As an American Traveler Terms the Tombs in Westminster. —__+—___ A BARRELFOL OF INFORMATION Things That Americans in London Are Apt to Kick About. SS LEISURELY FIRE FIGHTERS (Copyright, 1895, by Bacheller, Johnson & Bacheller.) LONDON, September 16, 1395. HAT YOUNG MAN, whom the passen- gers on the Suale dubbed the Devilbuz, has fastened himself jf wpon me with a hold Hi] that is not easily i shaken. He is so i easy going and good natured that most persons would walk round the bleck a few times rather than give him even slight offense. As for plain, unadorned snubs, he is simply impervious to them. He has certatnly dis- armed, if not subdued, me with his almost “yacuous innocence, but it keeps me busy trying to keep cut of trouble when in his company. He is a good fellow, however, and I should miss him were he to leave me altogether. Whatever his faults are, he is not tiresome. Still I should have known better than to take him along to Westmin- ster Abbey. There are places where such frivolous natures as the Devilbug’s are the more welccme in their absence. He lacks the depth of soul, the inborn reverence for the great and the good; the awe, the fealty to the heroes of bygone ages that inspires heart hoimage and dims the eye. In other words, he is very unlike me. Perhaps be- cause we are so opposite we chime well to- gether. Still, ad I have intimated, West- THE COURTYARD OF “The serio-religious gentleman has given me a cracker barrelful of information re- garding this retreat for the distinguished corpse in the plural. Let us sit down on this ivorine casket, containing the remains of the late lamented—let’s see—yes, Sir Raffles, I remember him well; good family, too, notwithstanding his sporty name. To begin with, it's a sort of clearing aouse fer With Frame Sixpence. the departed. If you were a gendeman in waiting or the cork-puller-in-ordinary to his or her majesty, as the case might be, you got a niche—a nice, comfortable niche, with all modern conveniences, inciuding ‘Inke- warm water to drink—ice is so unhealthy.” “Yes,"" I said, “niche rhymes with witch of course. “Now, listen, never mind what it rtymes with. If you happened to be the cold clay that used to be addressed by your famil- jars as Billy Wilberforce, the pioneer of the emancipation of slav among the philanthropists, or, if you may hap were the ‘worm fodder,’ as Shake- speare—he’s got a lower berth here—puts it, once known in the business directory of London as John Milton, poet, you would get a nook in the poets’ corner. I kiucw a whole lot of American poets i'd like to seo buried here—right away. ‘The firsi. poet buried here was Chaucer, who set the pace in dialect spelling five or six hundred years ago. The last one to be buricd here, I re- gret to inform you, my illiterate triend,was ‘Tennyson. What! you didn't know ‘Alf? Well, well! “I must get closer to your class, within reach of that chr: lis intzileet of yours. We are now at the southern end of the transept. Here it is; the Chapel Blaise. Never heard of him either? I'd hate to be lorar.t. , you can't go in there, that’s the Chapel of St. Faith. And you can cnly go THE OLD COCK HOTEL. minster Abbey could exist very nicely with- out him. Even as we entered the great abbey that the contractors first made sealed bids for in the ar 1 A. D., it was noticeable to ever the casual okserver that the counter- feit of William Cavendish, one of the first dukes of Neweastle, who died in 1676, trou- ble not stated, wore an unusually deep frown on his marble brow. The present Duke of Newcastle, as seme people will re- member, visited Chicago during the big Fashion Plates A and B. ir and made his valet wear his frown fof im. The Devilbug had met him there, and the marble duke appeared to know it. fe didn’t seem to like people who guyed is descendants. “It would have given the people in the states a much fetter opinion f English nobility if they had sent that nineral effigy of the late deceased boss of the Newcastle dukery to the Columbian . instead of (he present holder down of b,” remarked the Devilbug. “This is no place for the indulgence of ersonalities,” I observed, with a frigidity hat was not due to the chilly, musty at- mosphere of the greatest indoor, elite cem- etery on earth. We did not invest in cne of the guide ks; tt was unnecessary, for the Devil- ug, assuming that sanctimcnious air that 1s so depréssing to his friends and so de- ceptive to strangers, approached one of the deans—it was some clerical personage of importance, that I am sure of from the se- vere cut of his short side lights—and en- tered into earnest conversaticn with him. After a while, during which I had time to examire some of the tombs, most of which wer: elaborately carved with the ini- tials of visitors and artistically notched by felic hunters, the Devilbug returned. He wore a serene smile, something that fitted him much better than did the suit the Oxford street tailor built for him, with the agreement that if the coat didn’t fit him the Devilbug could bring back the trousers and the tailor would give him another vest. I never saw the Devilbug wear o near an approach to a look,of annoyance than when J told him he was the perambulating nu- @leus of a misfit clothing parlor—but that’s fnother serial. He wore a serene smile. into this one, the Chapel of the Pyx, by getting a special order, and the man that gives out the orders is over in Scotland, so the dominie said. “Here's a nice family tomb. It’s said to be the tomb of the Saxon king, Sebert, and his third wife, Ethelgoda, and his sister-in- law, Ricula. These people with the patent- medicine names have been dead since about the year 616 A. D. Isn't it interesting—to be dead so long? I'm coming here next Decoration day and throw flowers on Se- bert’s tomb. People will think I'm a direct descendant. “That man I was talking to is a dignt- tary of the Church House, and he told me that the great ambition of his life was to be buried in Westminster Abbey. I told him I was the bishop of Gowanus, and would use my influence in that most wor- thy direction. “When there isn't room along the wall they just tear up the floor and bury people there. Then they put a neat-fitting slab over you for tourists to promenade on. I had seen enough of Westminster for one day. Too much association with the great dead is palling. When I get back to America I shall get up a syndicate of capitalists for the pur- pose of starting an American Westminster. ‘There'd be money in it, ard there is cer- tainly gool material for such an enterprise almost lyirg around loose in the “states.” What is needed in Westminster Abbey is sanitary ventilation and open plumbing, and cages to wheel the tourists around in, so they won't deface the magnificent mon- uments. The Devilbug hesn’t a particle of reverence in him, but when he caught a fellow-American with freckles on his nose and a big jackknife in his hand carving his hideous initials on the morument to Sir John Franklin, while laboring under the impression that it was our Ben Franklin, the Devilvug caught his compatriot by the nape of the neck and squeezed that bit of anatomy until the tourist's complexion as- The Most Gorgeous Lackies of Them AIL sumed the gorgeous hue of a Concord grape in October, the Devilbug all the while grin- ning in his most infantile and affable man- ner. mured the Devilbug to his fellow-citizen, when the latter's complexion had assumed a purpie suited to the Gothamite idea of harmony in tints» As we followed our shame-faced neigh- bor to the door we heard the gentle clang- ing of a gong. It was a metropolitan fire brigade engine ambling to a fire. ‘The fire- nen drooped under the solid cast-brass hel- nets. It was a sight. It made me think of Tie alicy to the east with the jingle of discordant bells, and the decrepit horse, and the man crying, “R-r-ags! Ra-a-gs!”’ it was so casy yoing. The regulation re | sarding fast driving seems to be enforced against the 1iremen as well as others in London. A north side cable repair wagon would frighten half London to death. I can quite believe from what I have seen that the chief fireman goes to fires in his dress suit, if the alarm is turred in after six in the evening. They call it the metropolitan fire brigade, yet half the engines are work- ed by hand—engines similar to those used in Cass county, Io’ ° * . . . . One trouble with Americans in London is that they are always looking for something to kick abcut. For instance, a man from Evansville, Ind. (imagine the gall of a man from there kicking about anything), com- plaired to me as fcllow “I was at the Vaudeville the other even- ing. Good show, and I didn’t mind paying six pence for the program, but I want to kill the lackey that hards around refresh- ments in exchange for coin. They conti cated my gun at the customs house at Liv- erpool, or I'd had him pinked before this.” “What was the trouble?” I asked. “I was got up especially, for the American trade, like the Brummagem antiquities. Speaking of things antiquated, an agree- able and inexpensive antidote for the gloominess, the grime and smoke of Lon- don, the ancient Epping and Epping Forest can be safely recommended. A good way to go is to walk—it is only a matter of six- teen or seventeen miles from London. But the man or woman who walks should have a walking suit made after th> plans and specifications marked fashion plates A and B. Walking to,a greater extent than five or six miles shonld only be indulged in while wearing a Scotch “outing costume.’ They're dainty affairs—especially in shoes. Many go only to the forest by stage or train by way of Chingford and miss quaint Epping, which ties a little away to the north from the forest. The latter is a de- Fghtful place to drive arcund, and abounds in fine views and only one-twelfth of a dozen king’s oaks. Most places around Lon- don have from four to twenty trees, each of which is called the king’s oak. It’s like Colorado, where the stage drivers show the guileless ‘‘tenderfoots” the score or so of trees from which Deadwcod Dick was fa- tally swung. Formerly the forest, which contains about 6,000 acres, was the king’s chase; but probably the king waxed weary of chasing, for now the tract is thrown open to the public as a park. There are in Epping Driver Was Unquenchable. the forest the usual number of “inns,” with kigh-sounding names, to be found at every pleasure-seekers' resort around London— where ginger beer that tastes like is favored with cayenne pepper, and bitter beer” that has the a!luring temperature of eighty-five degrees Fahren- heit, is sold to the unwary wayfarer. It is much bet‘er rather than to patronize the ferest resurts to go to Epping towa and, camel-like, lay in a supply for the day. ‘There is a hotel there that is certainly very places PEOPLE WHO MAY ne THE For. PEOPLE THEYRE TAK there myself and thought him the most | luminous!y gorgeous article in the lackey line I'd ever seen. I made a sketch of him. What was the trouble? repeating the question. ‘1 bought a nin--pence cigar of him, and when I asked him for a light he charged me a penry extra for it. It’s these little things in London that makes me want to shoot on sight.” . . . . . * There are a few butchers—I suppose they cali them meat-shop men here, everything sounds so twisted—who are ‘beauties in their own peculiar way. One of them stood outside his funny little cow store, or wiat- ever they call "em, and I surreptitiously started to make a sketch of him. I wouid have done so openly, but I did not like the looks of his implements of trade. But, as hey say in the south of Fraice, he was “on.” I froze with terror. Perhaps it was fatal to those who tried to sketch a London meat emporium operatcr. I had been scold- ed by “marmies” in the Bahamas for vanting ‘to perpetuate the features of N sau pickaninnies; threatered by San Fran- cisco Chinzmen’ for sitrilar breaches of their forms of etiquette; had my hair turn crimson with fear by the frantic expostu- lations of Short Bull, when that Sioux gen- tleman was a prisoner at Fort Sheridan, because 1 forgot that the red man of the forest had corscienticus serupl2s against tintypes, daguerrectypes, crayons, sketches and every other fcrm of portraiture. I had aiso memories of a quartet of anarchists, back in the eighties, who wasted several good days trying to make an appointment with me, but without avail. Trey didn’t like my style of sketch portraits, and were desirous of criticising me with a base ball bat. I used the roof scuttle as a means of exit from the old Chicago Herald building during that interesting period. The butcker gentleman knew I was sketching. I wondered if I had anything about my person by which I could be iden- tified if I were found unconscious, perhaps dead, by the police. I was too frightened to run. He spake. “What do you charge, young man? H’i JUST WITHIN THE old, but the proprietor’s history is either very rusty or bis faith in his visitors’ ig- norance is abnormal, for he assured me that the hotel was fully six hundred years old,having been built in the time of Charles the First! Nows it. just happened I'd only the day before been looking up. Charley's The London Fireman in All His G pedigree, and knew that he only began to reign when the second quarter of the sev- entecath century commenced. Still the Cock Hotel is a very old and quaintiy shab- by hostelrie. The front of the hotel is quite modern in appearance, ard the proprietor, evidently a modernist, was distinctly ag- ory. TOWN OF EPPING. doesn't piy moar’n a bob for ‘avin’ my pic- ter tuk, heven hif hits done with colored cryons.”” i took his business card and promised to send him the sketch framed, and all for six pence. I hope he will forgive me for the deceit that must be ncw apparent to him. . . . ° . ° There are faces seen around the group of high-priced but roor-service hotels that are clustered around Charing Cross that are typical of the people of this country. It is no wonder that the art of caricature grew apace in England. The material is always close at hend. I have snapped up a few features that came at random within the focus of my pencil. The. first is that of a strarded sailor—from the Strand and ro further, I think—who wanted to be as- sisted to Liverpool. It would not be re- markable if his vocation the year round consisted in desire for aid in the same geo- graphical Girection—a new American comes to town every minute. But the old sailor, be he fraud or real, looks more harmless than the rest of the group. He is to be seen hanging arcund the hotels every day. He looks like a “con” man—except that he looks altogether too “con.” Perhaps he is only a batmlcss lud or markee who hasn't the wherewithal to get out ef town with the rest of the drove. The other two “gents,” the two sandwiched between the others, are drivers of the “old-fashioned” stage coaches that run to the Crystal Pal- ace and other places of interest out of the city. They have a got-up-for-effect appear- “You want to mosey out of here,” mur- i ance that makes me suspect that they are grieved that I ‘show!d have preferred to sketch the old court yard, full of the odors of flowers and antiquity, rather than its right-angled and recently “improved” front. ‘The driver of the deformed victoria which I had chartered for the afternoon was a non-communicative old fellow, somewhere in the seventies.“ He was the father of the proprietor of the Cock, and very conserva- tive in al thingd. He was distressed that a stop was not ‘made at every quench es- tablishment that we Came to. When a stop was made he beeame‘sociabie to the extent of burying his face in a tankard of bitter and saying “ah” with great unction and evidence of enjoyment. He was not a source of information. “H’l ’m drivin this ‘ere ‘oss, and I haint no Baydykers goyd, hyther. I was borned ’ere and lived ‘ere. That's h’all h'l know h’about h’Epping.”” At the forest is to be met a character, an old man who keeps a tea garden in the flowery bower. He had never heard of Chicago. The people in his neck of the woods had never spoken of it, he said. Might it be in India? Oh, in the United States. Why, yes, to be sure. The United States were in America, were they not? And there were Indians there, everywhere, now he came to recollect, were there not? When I informed him that I was an In- dian myselt, but temporarily off my reser- vation, I felt that my association with the Devilbug had produced a shocking change in my naturally truthful nature. I should have felt less guilty tf the old man had been less credulous and had look- ed at me with less wonder and curiosity in ‘on a bicycie be followed by exhaus his blue eyes, while the withered lids part- ed as wide as permitted by their enfeebled muscles. I leave London tomorrow. I wonder if London will miss me? Small towns are so easily affected. CHARLES LEDERER. —— DOCTORS AND BICYCLES. A Physician’s Opinion in Regard to This Form of Exercise. “This new woman craze has done one good thing for the sex,” said a prominent physician to a reporter of The Star. “It's making them develop themselves as God intended they should. The bicycle craze is the most sensible fad I ever heard of, and will do more toward giving us a race free from bodily ills than anything else. A great deal, however, depends upon the kind of bicycle riding they do. Moderate riding even for a long time out of the city into the country is, in general, beneficial. There are a number of diseases, limited to females; bicycle riding weuld be injurious in such cases. Violent riding for a short time, either by man or woman, is hurtful, even though they are free from organic disease. A sudden strain which falls principally upon the heart, is always inju- rious, especially in the case of persons who are not accustomed to it. Many men and women do themselves harm in gymnasiums by taking violent exercise for half an hour, and spending the remaining hours of the day in sicep or sedentary habits. Moderate exercise of almost any kind, un- der such circumstances, would be bene- ficial. It would be well for persons, espe- cially women who contemplate bi riding, to first have themselves examined by a competent physician. For if any dis- ease existed which would make the use of the bicycle undesirable it could be readily detucted. If the heart is not overworked, g a bicycle will strengthen it, and by gradual progress longer distances nay be ! traveled as the heart strengthens and the muscles increase in power. “This talk about a woman's heart being weaker than a man’s is all buncombe. | They are a bit tenderer when Cupid {s about, I understand, but really 1 never | saw one exposed at that time. Put me on récord as opposed to bending over like a monkey when riding. The girls don't do it to any great extent. It is a bad practice, wholly unnecessary, inducing stoop shoul: | ders, and causes oftentimes a temporary congestion of th brain by rush of blood to | the head, which may result sericusly. Bi- | cycle riding is good for digestion and i tarrhs of the alimentary tracts. What is | proper riding for one may be wholiy im- | proper for another. Any one at all deli- | cate should consult a physician as to the | manner and amount of riding. 0 rule can be given. synerasies, as well as di taken into account. In dressing to ride a wheel, the woman should avoid long, heavy skirts, and, abéve all, showid not lace. Persons should breathe through the nose—the natural channel for air to enter the lings. The air so entering is purified | and its temperature regulated. When a gets so short-winded that he is ed to breathe through the mouth it is a sure indication that he is riding too hard. Never ride for an hour or so after meal because the vital forces and blood needed for digestion. It is a well unde stood fact that no great exertion should | be made during digestion. This is espe- cially so during stomach digestion, which | usually lasis about an hour and a half after meals. “Consumptives, unless too far advanced. will be henefited by bfeycle riding. Ner- vous people, especially those sufferin, from hysteria, will find the bicycle gi good results, and dyspeptics should ride, by ali means. Bicycling is good tor chronii ‘yperemia of the Liver, more commonly known as torpid liver. “Mild outdoor exercise is one of the most valuable adjuncts to the treatment of nearly all chronic conditions, when this ex- ercise ca1 be taken without a patient he- coming greatly fatigued. Rut if reise nor great fatigue, it is too severe, and some milder form, such as carriage riding should be substituted. If the cyclist is able to get out into the country, it only for a short time cach day, and breathe the pure air, it will be more b than all the tonics ever concected. The ple: ure and mental invigoration that follows a ride is also a matter of no small im; —_- Professional Amateur. Frem Harper's Bazar. play the other day, at Johnson's y-the- Sea, To benetit the But row the p! he—to wit, a local « iy is over, it seems to day Miss Beauchamp, was on me ‘That th: bene Vere ficiar-ee. Miss Beauchamp bu’ Led gaze 3 st tw e brought to view” a stack of eh’s play us up, selected one to sult, as goes the s snd gave them out—ail this LYS. Then for a week we dared net speak, till each had learned his p in hacd we paced the strand and got the Is by heart. three thmes a day she gave us art 1 without a charge a net | for canvas old Johnson's big “for el ty," and so, of course, . and kept the place for two weeks | f just what she bid because she red it 0. "us purchase ‘kets by handful, and 1 ne broke at Joknson’s by the evenins 3 like clockwork hone; she was alone worth what o pay. were simply wonderf. 3 80. gor, ous a display Was never seen at Jehrson’s-by-the-Sea before that day. Next mornit gowns xa But left bebind, w what she wor And when we puid expenses the poor creche got dollars four, And we won't bave such theatricals at Johnson's any more. —H. G. PAINE. though, she had to go—and took her "re pained to find, the bills for = -se+ Saw r Baby Eaten by a Bear. 1 ‘rom the San Francisco Examiner. A few days ago, near Bear Lake, about thirty miles from The Dalles, Oreg., a bear ate up an Indian child that was Jeft in the brush aslecp while its mother was picking berries. The poor woman heard the cries of her infant, and, thinking that it was being in- jured, picked up a butcher knife and ruzh- ed to its assistance. She found a savage bea with the baby in its claws and gnaw- ing the prostrate body. Heroically she be- gan the fight, but the bear was too power- ful for her, and, although she fought bravely, when she was rescued by the In- dians she was nearly killed, the brute hav- ing clawed and mangled the ficsh on her body in a fearful manner. The little child was dead, and almost every particle of flesh on its body was devoured by the angry animal. 2 They managed to kill the bear. The re- mains of the little child were buried near the place where it met its cruel death, and the heartbroken mother, in her wounded conditton, was cared for as tenderly as possible. —— Art of Letter W From the New York Times. A woman noted among her friends for her delightful letters and as delightful gift of conversation was asked not long ago by one of them how she managed it. “Frankly,” was the reply, “I strive for it. When I see in a book or hear anywhere a happy phrase, or a telling sentence, I make a mental note of it, and watch for an ep- portunity to incorpprate it in my own speech or written word. I don’t mean I appropriate other folks’ ideas in wholesale fashion, but I do steal or utilize their knack of expression. Another point I make is never to permit myself to speak carelessly, that Is, slovenly, any more than I let my hair be untidy or my gowns mud-stained. It does not seem to me frivolous or bestow- ing too much care on trifles to take this small pains for my betterment. I pin a flower on my dress for a bit of color, or ad- just a bow where I know It is becoming; why should I not apply the decorative idea to my speech?” Why, indeed? : riting. Nearly all women have hair, though many are gray and few are bald. Hall’s Hair Renewer restores the natural color #nd thickens the growth of the hair. 926 ; mementous events. | ESSE. | the re | Blans preps Highest of all in Leavening Power.— Latest U.S. Gov't Report Re AN | YB Baking Powder ' ABSOLUTELY PURE BUILT BY A PRIEST A Notable Addition to the Catholic University. THE MMAHON HALL OF PHILOSOPHY Distinguished Gathering to Be Present at Its Inauguration. OF FOUNDER SS SKETCH ITS During the coming week the Catholic Univetsity of America will be the scene of They will mark an epcch in the church in this country in its refations to higher and broader education. There will assemble to take part in them | aisu the most important dignitaries of the Roman Cathclic Church in America, and probably the gathering will be the most distinguished called togethe by any evert in the Catholic Church since the ird plerary council held in Baltimore in The various departments connected with the university will recpen October 1, including the new McMahon Hall of Phil- osophy. The two succeeding days the con- gress of the Priests’ Eucharistic League will meet in the lecture hall of the uni- versity and di: of much in- terest to the clergy as well as the com- municants of ‘The exercises attendant upon these events really began last Tuesday evening, when the students and professors of the Divinity College, together with a number of others who will take part in the proceedings next week, went into a spiritual retreat, to con. tinue until the end of the present week. The retreat is being ccnducted by Re Walter C. Elliott. Dedication of McMahon Hall. The dedication exercises of Hall will be impressiv2, though le, and will be con@ucted by Cardinal Gibbons, who, together witlthe archbishops and bisheps of the United States, form the board of directors of the Hall of Philoso- phy. This beard will hold a meeting the morning of October 1, at which the faculty selected by Bishop Keane and Dr.Garrigan, tor and vice rector of the univer- sity, will be formally approved and the course of studies provided in the various departments ratified. It is expected that this meeting will be attended, besides the cardinal, by Archbishops Corrigan of New York, Williams of Boston, Chappelle of New Mexico, Ryan of Philadelphia and ireland of St. Paul, and Bishops Horstman of Cleveland, Spaulding of Peoria, Maes of Covingtor of Detroit Other noted Catholic priests and laymen who are expected 10 be in attendance upon | which will take | the subsequent exercises, ace in the hall of the new > afternoon, and who will als ssions of the haristic congress, are Satolli, the apostolic legate; Sharetti and Dr. Rooker of the legation, Vicar General Farley of President Zahm of the Univer- tructure in papal New York, sity of Notre Dame, President Richards of orgetown University, Mr. Michael Jen- of Raltimore, Mr. Eugene Kelly of New York, ex-Cougressman Bourke Cock- n and many others. Cardinal Gibbons and Mon will make addresses, and the attending will be attired in the full robes of the rier according to their rank. The exercises will begin at p.m., when the hall will be blessed by The cardinal will also deliver an address defining the objects of the institution and its various departments. There will be ad- dre also b delegate, and Prof. W. C. Robinson, dean of the school of social science. Mgr. Sa- telli_wiil bestow the papal benediction on McMahen Hall as the represertative of Leo XIT. The Hall of Philosophy. The new Hall of Philosophy occupies a missive granite pile, situated upon the mest commanding site in the extensive grounds belonging to the university, and the view from its windows presents a re- markably fine Washingto: ignor Satolli ) panorama of ¥ aud the svrrommding country. The struc- trre is built of granite in the Romanesque style of the Renaissance architecture, from Raldwin & Pennington, o the architects of the Divin- Hall, which was the first. building on the groun: well as the be opened for th ption of stu- These, however, were confined to members of the pri od who desired to pursue higher. stv tion with their duties, but MeMahon Hall will be oyen to all applicants who may meet the ments of matriculation regardless © religious professions or tendencies. The harmcnious treatment of the structure dees not make its great size so apparent at the first glance, but it is 250 feet long and 70 feet deep, except the central win: extends back 150 feet. ‘The part tion walls are of bri and the building is equipped throughout with iron stair- weys, Which run from the basement to the attic, four’ sto! interior is ananged to greatest conven- fence for tho portunities it offers. Fer the present many of its halls will be occupied as temporary quarters for experimental work along scien- tific lines, but eventually all these sections will be transferred to buildings to be erect- ed elsewhcre in the gr$unds. All these apartments, kowever, despite the immedi- ate uses to which they will be put, have teen planned for the purposes of their permatient occupancy. Arrangement of the Apartments. The stairways ascend through the middle pertion of the building, and from these a corridor runs cn each floor its entire length. On either side of these corridors are series of rooms arranged for their adaptability to some particular branch of study. These apariments cor t of a lecture hall for each instructor, a study room and rooms wherein the students may prosecute their re- searches under his direction. The sections devoted to students in practical sciences will be furnished with laboratories, and all will be equipped with a complete library containing authorities and works of refer- ence bexring directly upon the course of study followed. This equipment is intended to inspire the student to original research ard, indeed, this idea was the fundamental cne in the mind of the founder of the insti- tution. The arrangement, as it will be seen, allows students in every course to pursue their work without contact with the others. The large apartments in the ceptral part of the building will be used at present for pub- lic functions in connection with the uni- versity. The first floor of the west wing of Mc- Mahon Hail will be occupied by the schools of social science and of jurisprudence; the philological schoo! will occupy the second flccr, and the third wil! be devoted to the | use of those who will undertake philosoph- ical pursuits. The philosophical school will be divided into sections of letters, mathe- matics, technology, biology, physical sc ence and philosophy proper. The school of social sciences will include departments of law, political science, economics and sociol- egy. These will be the two schools that will be opened this year. The admission to these schools will be granted to any one who nas taken a degree at any reputable college. Those who have rot received a degree, but who will express willingness to pass an examination qualify- rig them for the degree of A. B. will be ad- mitted on probation. The faculty is a bril- liant one, and in its selection Bishop Keane, the rector of the university, has spent sev- cral years past in travel and in studying the capapilities of a large number of emi- nent educators. The Faculty. The dean will be the Rev. Dr. Edward A. McMahon | Nearty of St. Cloud and Foley | attend the | ‘ardinal Gibbons. | Mer. Satolli. the 2postolic | Pace, who will occupy the chair of psy- chology. He is a native of Fernandina, Fla., and but thirty-three years old. He was educated at the Sulpician College of St. Charles at Ellicott City, Md., and at St. Mary's Theological Seminary, in Baltimore. His remarkable promise attracted the at- tention of the older heads in the church, and at the opening of the Catholic Uni- versity he was sent to Leipsic, Germany, to equip himseif for a professorship in that institution. Upon his return he was made eee at of psychology in the Divinity Col- lege. Prof, William C. Robinson will be dean of the school of social sciences and will hold the chair of law. He has been connected with the law department of Yale for many years. Rev. Dr. George M. Searle will be pro- fessor of mathematics and engineering. He is an Englishman by birth, a convert to the Catholic faith and a Paulist father. He is the author of standard mathematical ae and a keen religious controversion- ist. Prof. R. du Saussure, formerly professor in Johns Hopkins University, will be his associate. Prof. Daniel Shea, who held a chair of physics at Harvard and the IIli- nois State University, will occupy the same chair in McMahon Hall. The other members of the faculty are known throughout the'educational world as | being eminent in their several domains. They are Rev. John J. Griffin and Dr. ‘ank K.Cameron, professors of chemistry; Charles Warren Stoddard, professor of En- | glish literature; Dr. Daniel Quinn, professor | of Greek; Edward Lee Greene, professor of botany; Maurice F. Egan, professor of En- glish philology; Rev. Thomas J. Shahan, | professor of Latin, and Dr. Henri Hyver- nat, professor of Hebrew. There will be a number of special lecturers, including Dr. Rooker on ethics, Carroll D. Wright on the problems of labor, and others of capacit; and learning. eee Monsignor MeMahon’s Muuificence. The establishment of the McMahon Hall | of Philosophy is due to the munificence of Monsignor James M. McMahon, an octoge- narian Catholic priest who now resides at { the university, and upon whom the repre- sentative men of the Catholic Church will shower their blessings and _benedictions next Tuesday. He was an Irish boy, and at his baptism his parents devoted him to the priesthood. His early education, there- | fore, was conducted with this end in view, |and he was finished at Maynooth Col- | lege. His. theological education was re- ceived in the Sulpician Seminary-at Paris, | and afterward at Montreal, where he was ordained. | He went to New York in 1843 and shortly afterward received a small patrimony, which he invested to such good effect that he became, in the course of time, one of the richest priests in this country. It was not long after his settlement in New York that he attracted the attention of Arch- bishop Hughes, and a lasting friendship sprang up between them. He was pastor of St. John’s parish, New York city, for over twenty-five years, and by his wise in- vestments of the church funds, as well as his own, made the parish wealthy and in- fluential. His church burned down, and he rebuilt it on a finer scale. When the New York Cathedral was burned just after the war, Father McMahon was one of the most energetic and successful of the agents of | its rebuilding. The location of the new | cathedral made it necessary to include in its parish that of St. John’s, and Father McMahon, in 1867, was made pastor of the Church of St. Andrew, on Duane street. | Here he remained until he determin 1d to | carry out the cherished object of his iife— the foundation and endowment of a great | institution of learning. He then resigned his pastorate and came to the Catholic | University of America. In a short time he | had completed his plans, which are now realized in the magnificent building which bears his name, and to their unfolding he devoted the sum of 000 and his entire time. From the first shovelful of earth that was taken from the foundation to the last delicate trument which was placed in a laboratory, the venerable gentleman has directed the work with vigorous energy and watched the result with affectionate solicitude. During all this time he has con- | tinued the system of wise, careful and re- munerative investment which has charac- terized his business life in the past, and is | the owner of much valuable real estate in | this city. His Life at the University. Monsignor McMahon leads a simple and unaffected Nf2 at the university. The state- ment has been published broadcast that he made it one of the requirements of the deed of gift which has resulted in the hall of Thilosophy that he should be allowed to make his home at the university during the remainder of his life. This, however, is un- irue. When Father McMahon gave his money for the foundation and endowment of McMahon Hall he coupled with it no restric- tious of a personal character. He stated pre- cisely how he desired the funds to be ex- pended, and these directions have been car- ried out to the letter. His presence at the university is that of an honored and distin- guished guest, and he took up his residence there at the earnest invitation of the officials of the institution. The monsignor occupies rooms in the Di- vinity building and pursues the devotions of a Catholic priest. He celebrates mass every morning and spends a portion of his time in pious meditation. He takes his meals with the professors, and enters into their conversations and discussions with the vigor and energy of a student. His intellectuality is of a high order, and his acquaintance with | hooks is considered remarkable, even for a Catholic clergyman. He is a great reader, j and as a Hebrew scholar has few equals in this country. He retains much of his phys- feal vigor and is in every respect a remark- able mangfor one of his advanced years. a A Story of Mystery. Do you know what a “Story of Mystery” is? It is a continued story of which ali but the last chapter ts printed, and then guesses are made as to the solution, then the final installment ts printed. Early in October a most interesting mystery story, “When the War Was Over,” will be started in ‘The Star, and five hundred dollars will be given for the first absolutely correct solution. In case no guess is abso- lutely correct the amount will be divided among those nearest to a correct solution, ‘The guesses will be confined to women read+ ers, Puller particulars later. ee An Opening for Him. From Puck. Miss Hogaboom (of Chicago)—“And what profession is your brotner in, Lord Hamer- ey?” Lord Hamercy—“Oh,when Algernon leaves Oxford I fency he will take orders. Miss Hogaboom (surprised)—“Yes? Well, there are scme real nice gentlemen travele ing for pa.” —_—__+es_—_______ The Old, Old Story. From Troth. Jack (of the slums)—“If an honest Flosste (of 5th avenue, who has lost hi way)—“Do rot detain me; I am anxious t find my way home before dark. Do not repeat your avowals. I can never be more than a sister to you, Jack, our stations in life are so different!” Jack (sorrowfully)—“Aye, it's the old re- frain, wealth versus poverty; you live on chicken and I—I live on hash!” .