Evening Star Newspaper, December 28, 1895, Page 19

———_——S—E—EE— A 1900 WOMAN, pS BY ELLA HIGGINSON, Author of “The Takin’ in of Old Miss Lane,” and Other Stories. (Copy-ight, 1895, by S. Mr. iow pockets. . McClure, Limited.) Dawson stood at the dining room His hands were deep in his trou- He was jingling some pieces liver money and swearing silently with closed lips. ‘The room looked more like a business cf- fice than a dining room in a house. It was furnished handsomely, but with extreme plairness. There was an air of stiffness about everything. There weré no plants in the windows. There was not a flower on the table, which stood ready for breakfast. In = word, there were no feminine touches anywhere. Precisely at 8 o'clock a strong, quick step came down the stairs and through the hall. Mr. Dawson turned with a quelled impa- tience in his manner. His wife entered. “Oh,” she said. She glanced at him, smilingly mechanically, as one would at a child. Then she walked rapidly to a little table and began to look over the morning mail. “Have you been waiting?” she add- ed, absent mindedly. : “It is not of the least consequerice.” Mr. Dawson spoke with a fine sarcasm. It was wasted. She did not even hear the reply. “Ah,” she said, tossing down a letter and turning to ring for breakfast. “I must run up to Salem on the noon train.” An untidy servant entered. “Breakfast, please,” said Mrs. Dawson, without looking at the girl. She seated her- self at the breakfast table, and opened the morning paper, which had been laid at her lace. Mr, Dawson sat dewn opposice her. here was silence save for the occasional rustle of the paper as Mrs. Dawson turned it sharply. Her eyes glanced alertly from hheaaing to heading, pausing here and there to read something of interest. Her hus- band looked at her from time to time. At last he sald, with fime sarcasm: “Any news Mrs. Dawson finished the article she was reading. Then, with a little start, as If she had just heard, she said: “Oh, no, no; noth- ing ‘of consequence, my dear.” But she read on, more intently than before. “\Vell,” said her husband, presently, with @ touch of sharpness, “here are the straw- berries. Can you take time to eat them?” She sighed impatiently. Three deep lines gathered between her brows. She folded the paper slowly and put it In an inside pocket of her jacket. She wore a street dress, made with a very full skirt, which reached a few inches below the knees. The jacket was short and had many pockets. he wore also a tan silk shirt, rolled collar and tie, and leggings. Her hair-was ar- ranged very plainly. In spite of her unbe- coming attire, however, she was a beautl- ful woman, and her husband loved her and ‘was proud of Fer. ‘This did not prevent him, though, from saying, with something hke a feminine pet- tishness, “Mrs. Dawson, I wish you would remember to leave the paper for me.”" Mrs. Dawson looked at him In surprised displeasure. “I have not finished reading It myself,” she said, coldly. “Besides, there 4s nothing in it that will interest you. It Is mostly political news. If I had time to read it before I go down town, it would be different; but I am out so late every night, I must Shep till the last minute in the morning to keep my strength for the cam- paign. You cannot complain that I forget to bring it home for you In the evening.” Mr, Dawson coughed scornfully, but made no reply for some minutes. Finally, he raid in a taunting tone: “It's all very well for you. You are down town all day, among people, hearing everything that is going on—while 1 sit here alone, without even a paper to read For a moment Mrs. Dawson was angry. Here she was with an invalid husband and two children, working early and late to support them comfortably. She had been successful—so successful that she had re- celved the nomination for state senator on the republican ticket. She loved her hus- band. She was proud of herself for her own sake, but certainly more for his sake. She thought he ought to make her way easier for her. He was not strong, and It was her wish that he should not exert him- self in the least. All she asked of him was to look after the servants, order the din- ners, entertain the children when the nurse ‘was busy and be cheerful and pleasant the short time she was at home. Surely, it was little enough to ask 6f him and it was hard that he should fail even In this. When, two years previous, equal suf- frage ‘had been graciously granted to women Mr. Dawson, being then in failing health, had most cheerfully turned his real estate business over to his wife. At first ehe managed It under his advice and in- structions. He was simply amazed at the ease with which she ught on.” In less than six months she ceased to ask for sug- gestions, and his proffered advice was re- ceived with such a chill surprise that it goon ceased altogether. At first the change had seemed like heaven to Mr. Dawson. It was a delightful novelty to give orders about dinners and things to maids who g ggied prettily at his mistakes; to have the children brouzht in by the respectfully amused nurse for an hour's romp; to entertain his gentlemen friends at afternoon “smokers” (Mrs. Daw- son's dainty afternoon tea table had been removed to the garret. A larger table, holding cigars, decanters, etc., had taken its place); to saunter down to his wife's office whenever he felt inclined. But the maids soon grew accustomed to the change. They received some of his more absurd orders with more insolence than merriment. He began to have an un- easy feeling In their presence. They really Were not respectful. The nurse no longer smiled when she brought the children. What was worse, she left them with him much more than at first. The children themselves, somehow, seem- ed to be getting out of clothes and out of manners. He told the nurse to have some clothes made for them. She asked what seg tary he preferred, and what mate- rial. “I don’t know,” he answered, helplessly. “Get any gocd seamstress and let her se- lect the materials.” The nurse brought a friend from the country. She asked him how he wished them made. “How?” he repeated, with some anger. “Why, in the fashion, of course.” She made them in the style then In vogue In Stumpville. When he saw them he swore. When he spoke to his wife about it she re- plied. with an impatience that strove to be good natured, “Why, my dear, I don’t trou- ble you about my business perplexities, do I? Really, I haven't time to think of so much—with this campaign on my should- e too, You must try to manage better. Find stylish seamstresses—and don't trust even th he magazines and styles you a study—but 1 am Bure And while T think about r, I wish you would see that the roasts are not overdone.” The smokers and little receptions among the men became bore So many women being in business, their nushands were compelled to maintain the family position in society. Mr. Dawson od. But he considered it an in » to carry his wife’s cards a Sometimes he could not remem- many gentlemen there were in a = wes something worse than all this. He covld not fail to perceive, in spite of the usual masculine obtuseness in such matters, that ue was no longer weleome at his wife's he received him politely, but coldly. Then she ignored his presence. If she chanced to be busy, she at once became very y: ressively so, in fact. If idle. she lately found something to engross her attention In anger, one day, he taunted her with it. She replied, without passion, but with cut- ting , that it was not good for busi- ve one’s husband sitting around that wom id not come in so ng afraid that something might and repeated, ‘a young gentleman Mr. Dawson, ut is different,” id his wife, smiling type- good-nuturedly. So the two years had gone by. Some things had improved; others had grown Worse. Ill health and the narrow world he din seemed to have affected Mr. Daw- mind. He felt t his wife neglected At time proud of her brilliant and pi ity and grace. At ly jealous of—every- ‘yhody, even the young man Ny took down her thoughts in him. Was absurd, of course, but he was such @ bi Ast) 3 looking young fool! What had he to put fresh flowers tn her y? He asked her once furi- him for that. She looked THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 28, 1895—TWENTY-FOUR PAGES. at him in cold displeasure. Then she left the house and scarcely spoke to him for a week. At the end of the week she remem- bered his invalidism, and relented. On the way home she bought a pretty trifle, a jeweled scarf pin, and gave it him with a little show of affection. He was deeply ae ‘Then she really loved him, after all! Thereafter she permitted herself to be- come angry with him more readily. The temporary estrangement furnished a rea- scnable excuse to spend several nights down town with the girls, and when she was tired of it she had only to carry home some pretty jewel—and peace was restored. Mr. Daw- son's life was becoming such a narrow, walled-in one that he was losing his spirit. It is not surprising that Mrs. Dawson looked at him angrily over the breakfast table. However, she made no answer to his unreasonable complaint. “Is it necessary that you should make so 'y trips to Salem?" he asked, presently. Yes, my dear,” she replied, coldly. “Un- less you wish to see me defeated.” “And is it necessary that you should re- main out untii 1 or 2 o'clock every night?” “It is." Mrs. Dawson spoke firmly to con- vince herself as well as her husband. “My dear, I have had enough of this. You were pleased—I repeat, pleased—with the idea of my running for senator, or I should not have accepted the nomination. Now, already, you annoy me with petty complaints and Jealousies. I prefer being at home with you and the children, certainly; but I cannot neglect my business or we would soon be in the poor house. Nor can I make any- thing of a canvass without 'spending some time with the girls."”" “And money,” sneered Mr. Dawson. “Yes, and money’’—more coldly. “God knows I do not enjoy it; my tastes are do- mestic."” Mr. Dawson got up suddenly. He lifted his chair and set it down with a crash. Mrs. Dawson,’ he said: “I don’t care whether you make a good canvass or a peor one. When I gave my consent to your going into this thing I supposed you'd run it differently. You women have been talking and ranting for the last fifty years about the way you'd purify politics when you got the ballot—and here you are run- ning things just as men have been doing ever since the United States were born.” “Oh, my dear!” interrupted Mrs. Dawson, with a little, aggravating, laugh, “that is wrong, isn't it? Was born would be better. Besides why not say the earth at once?” “And I don’t care if you are defeated! I'm tired of being cooped up here with a lot of children and servants! Ordering pud- dings, and leaving cards on fools because you happen to know their wives in a busi- ness way, and doctoring measies and mumps! And you down town canvassing with the girls! Damn a home where the wife only comes to eat!”” Mrs. Dawson arose silently and, putting on her hat in the hall, left the house. She was furious. Her face was very white. She shook with passion. What a lif What a home! What a husband for a ris- ing womar to have, dragging her dow Not even willing to help her socially! Why, it had been only to years, and here he m: DEFTLY EXTRACTED THE MORNING changed. We can change it only by getting good women into power. We can get them into power only through :noney. We must, ourselves, stoop at first to elevate politics eventually. Mrs, Dawson, you owe it to the state—to your country—you owe it ro your- self—to sacrifice your noble principles and ideals this time, in view of the powerful re- form you, and such women as you, can bring about in politics, once you are in power.” He turned the horses into a long locust- bordered lane. At the end of it was a large, white farm house. A woman sat on the front steps. She was tall and thin. Her face and hands were wrinkled and harsh. Her eyes were narrow and faded. Her sandy Eair, gray in places, was brushed straight back from her face, and wound in a kmot with painful tightness. She sat with her sharp elbows ot. her knees, her chin sunk in_her palms. She arose with a little country flurry of embarrassment at their approach. “She stood awkwardly, looking at them, keeping her shabbily clad feet well under her scant skirt. “Are you the lady who wishes to borrow asked Darrach. be.” She did not Her only emotion ive self-consciousness. hind her to feel if She put her hands her apron strings were tied. Then she rested her right elbow in her left hand, and began to smooth her hair nervously with her right hand. ‘Yes, I want to git $500 on this here Land knows it’s worth twicet thet.” said Darrach, politely. “It is too bad to mortgage it, Dawson, feeling a sudden pity. lutely necessary?” “Yes,” said the woman, closing her thin lips together firmly; ‘my mind’s set. My man’s one o’ them kind 0’ easy-goin’s thet you can’t never git worked up to the piteh o’ doin’ anytnin’. Im tired of it. We've set here on this here place sence we crossed the plains, an’ we ain't got anythin’ but land en’ stawk an’ farm machin'ry. We ain't got a buggy, ner a drivin’ horse, ner a side- saddle; we ain’t got 'n org’n ner a fiddle, ner so much 's a sewin’ machine—an’ him a- gettin’ new rakes, and harrers an’ drills, and thin’s every year, all of "em with seats to ride on. I ain't even got a washin’ ma- chine!" “But why do you mortgage your farm?” asked Mrs. Dawson, quietly. “Because I've got my dose," said the wo- man, fiercely. ‘The place’s in my name, an’ now thet we've got our rights, I'm goin’ to move to town. I'll show him! I'll git a job 's street commish'ner—er somepin’. He can let the place out er run it hisself, jist 's he’s a mint, but I'm goin’ to take that money an’ hire a house 'n town an’ buy furniture. My mind's set. I didn’t sense what a fooi I be tell we got our rights. If he'd a’ half give me my rights afore, I'd give him his'n now; but I've got the whip- hand, an’ I guess I'll git even. He never even let me hev the hen money—consarn his ugly picter!” ‘Oh, I ai said Mra “Is it abso- sure it is wrong to mortgage your farm,” said Mrs. Dawson, looking di tressed. “Your husband must have trusted you or he would not have put it in your name.” PAPER FROM HIS INSIDE POCKET. was sunk to the shoulders In the narrow groove it had taken women centuries to struggle out of! Had she ever been proud of him? Impossible! He was unjust, con- temptible, mean! Why—why—could he not be like Jom Darrach? There was a man, strong, fearless, a politician. He had not lost his grip. If she won, it would be be- cause of his earnest support. She went into her private office and laid her head upon her desk, and wept passion- ately. Presently a knock came upon the door. She did not hear. The door opened, but she did not hear that either. But she felt a hand close firmly around her wrist; and then she heard a voice say, “Why, what dces this mean?” She lifted her head and looked through her tears into John Darrach’s eyes. There was unmistakable tenderness in the look and in the pressure of his strong firgers. A warm color flamed over her face and throat. She controlled her feel- ing, and smiled through her tears, slowly drawing her arm from his clasp. “Forgive me,” he said, Instantly, return- ing to his usual manner toward her. en I saw you were in trouble, I—for- “It is nothing,” she said, with an exag- gerated cheerfulness. “Only, sometimes I fear this campaign is making me nervous. I hate nervous people,” she added, pas- sicnately. “My carriage is at the door,” said Dar- rach. He looked away from her with a visible effort. “Shall we drive out to see that piece of property now?” “Oh, yes, Indeed; I had forgotten that. How good of you to always remind me. I am afraid I depend upon you too much.”" “Not as much as I wish,” he answered her in a low voice. He stood holding the door open while she rapidly drew on -her Bloves. Then seeing the ‘color coming to her face again, he added, grimly—‘I must earn my salary as your attorney, you know.” ‘That was a delightful morning. The road ran along the Willamette from Portland to Vancouver. The perfect blue of an Oregon sky bent softly over them. The long silver curves of the slow-moving river wound be- fore them. There were green fields, and bits of emerald wood, and picturesque islands. Farther away were the heavily timbered hills, purple in the distance; and grand and white and glistening against the sky were the superb snow mcuntains, majestic in their far loneliness. The air was fragrant with wild syringa, which grew by the the roadside, flinging long, slender sprays cf white, gold-hearted flowers in all directions. The soft, caressing winds tet free about them a breath from the far ocean. Mrs. Dawson leaned back in the carriage and forgot domestic cares. Forgot ‘ll-bred servants and over-done roasts, shabbily dressed children and an unreasoaabt!e, fault- finding husband. She loved the soft sway of the carriage, the spirited music of the horses’ feet on the hard road, the sensuous, com- peiling caresses of the wind on her face and throat. Darrach stopped the horses in a shady spot. “We must have some of this syringa,” he said, putiing the reins in her hands. He broke a great armful, snapping the stems almost roughly. He bore them to the car- riage and piled them upon her knees until they covered her bosom and shoulders with their snowy drifts—some of the scented sens curling even about her throat and air. “Do you know,” said Darrach, looking at her, “these cool, white sprays always make me think of a woman's arms.” He reached for the reins, and for a second his hand rested upon hers. She turned very pale. “By the way, a light tone, “is the canvass going on satis- factorily?” fe as I could wish,” she replied. ‘As I expected, the lower classes are solid for—my opponent. It is a bitter thing to run against such a woman. It will be more bit- ter to be defeated by her,” ‘You must not be.” “T cannot help it. votes?” = larrach shrugged his shoulders. “Put up more money,” he said, coldly, but i y tone. said Mrs. Dawson, with deep con- temp It is dishonorable--Jisgistins! Sell my birthright for a mess of pottaze Nonsense," said Darrach. He turned and smiled at her. “Am I to be disappoint- ed in you? Have I not guided you with a careful hand through dangers and pitfalls? Have I not helped you to succ is wrong to spend money for such a purpose— I confess it, of course. We want all that How can I get—such The woman laughed harshly, but without mirth. "Oh, I've played my game cute," she said. I've schemed and laid low. Back ’n Kan- zus we hed a fine place out 'n the rollin’ kentry, all 'n his name, an’ he made me sign a mortgage on ‘t to buy machin'ry with— said he'd leave me 'f I didn’t—an’ the hull place went. Mebbe TI ain't worked to lay his spish'uns, though! Mebbe I ain't laid awake nights a-pfannin’ to git t my name! Mebbe I didn’t git it, to “But will he sign the mortgage? Darrach, “He'll hev to.” She spoke with some- thing like a snarl. “If he don't—I'll do what he threatened me with back ‘n Kan- zus! I'll leave him!" Her tone was ter- rible now. “Let us go,” said Mrs. Dawson, turning a pale face to Darrach. He made an appointment to meet the wi man in town. carriage. Leoking back, they saw that she had reseated herself in the same listless attitude on the steps, her chin sunken in her hand, watching them with those dull, narrow eyes. Darrach sent the horses down the lane at a lively pace. Mrs. Dawson sat erect. Her face was pale and troubled. “Well, that’s awful, isn't it? said Dar- rach, cheerfully. “It makes me suspect that this suffrage business isn’t all it is Tepresented to be.” “Oh, it is terrible,” said Mrs. Dawson, earnestly. “That a woman should have such a feeling"—she pressed her hands to- gether upon her knees—“I cannot help feeling sorry for her. She is wrong, all wrong, now; yet, I think I understand what a miserable, starved life she has had. I believe that the hearts of millions of wo- men would have leaped could they have heard those words: ‘If he'd a half given me my rights before!” You men have been wrong; you have not been wise. You brcught this revolution on your own heads. Why, what can one expect of the kind of man that weman’s husband must be, when my own husband—a man of refinement and culture—treated me like a dependent in money matters?” “The beast!” said Darrach. She turned a white, startled face upon him. “What?” she stammered. He laughed instantly, although a thick color mounted into his face. “Oh, I didn’t mean Dawson.” He spoke easily. “I was thinking of that woman's husband. “Oh! Well—I was saying—Mr. Dawson never gave me money unless I asked for it. ‘Then he doled it out, sometimes only a dol- lar or two. Always, his countenance fell when I asked for it. He seemed to fear that if I had it, I would spend more than was necessary. So many husbands have been like that—thoughtiessly, of course. Some women rebel and taunt their hus- bands with it; others bear it in silence, and —learn to hate the men they have loved. It has been simple as it seems; one of the commonest curses of marriage. Thinking deeply, Darrach took out his knife, and, holding the reins loosely in his left hand, tried with his right to cut off a spray of the syringa. There was a stumble of the horse, a lurch—and he felt the knife cleaving the soft flesh of her arm. The blocd spurted. She uttered a faint He stopped the horses instantl seizing her arm with both hands, tried to stop the flow of blood with his handker- chief. “My God!” he cried. His voice trembled with strong emotion. “I have hurt you! And I love you—better than life! God, how it bleeds! But it is not the artery—it will soon stop, thank heaven! But to have hurt you—dearer than my own life! Dearest!” His passion had broken down his self- control. The words trampled each other in their utterance. After the last word there was a terrible silence. He dared not look at her, but he felt that she was very white, and that her lips were set together. “I think that will do,” she said, in an un- natural tone. She drew her arm away, slowly and deliberately. “It is not serious.” Then they looked at each other. Her giance was level and steady. Darrach was trembling under the strength of the feeling he was endeavoring to con- trol; his eyelids quivered with unspeakable shame. His look was passionate in its en- treaty for pardon. “I do not ack you to forgive me. It is im- possible that you could. I can ask of you cnly one thing, to remember when con- Gemning me that the passion which has just escaped my control is a noble one and that it has been long hidden.” He spoke slowly. Her expression grew gentle, although it lost none of its seri- cusness. “We will think no more of it,” she said, Then they returned to the | with a grave sweetness. “And now we must peoreey or I shall be too late for the Salem rain.’ Once on the trate, Mrs. Dawson had three hours of hard and bigter reflection to face. There are certainrgrises in the lives of all cf us when a word, [ph laok, a gesture, is suffi- cient to awaken us te a full realization of scme wrong that fweohave been committing with shut eyes and dplied conscience. Mrs. Mrs. D. Arose Silently and Left the House. Dawson had reached the crigis in her life Her awakening was sudden and complete; Lut it was crushing. She sat with her burning cheek in her hand, looking out of the window. Sue sax nothing—neither wide green fields, nor peaceful village, nor silver, winding river. The events of the past two years were marct ing, panorama-wise, before her aching eyes. Her heart beat pairfully under its burden of self-accusation. Oh, blind, feol- ish, wicked! did not care for Darrach. He was an attentive, congenial companion; that was all. But how wrong, how loathsome, now, seemed her association with him. She felt a great choke coming into her threat. She detested her campaign, woman suffrage, and most of all herself as she had been in these two year: Suddenly she sat erect. “I will give it all up,” she said. “i will go back to my hus- band and my children, from whom I have wandered, oh, God, how far! Other women may do as they choose—I shall make a home again. and stay therein. I believe active iife will restore my husband’s health. We will try all over again to forget, and just be happy. Oh, I have been walking in my sleep for two years! I have awakened—in time, thank God! Every act, almost every thought of these two years, is loathsome to me now. But I shall atone. I shall make my husband and my children happy.” Mr. Dawson had spent a wretched day. Upon reflection he heartily ashamed of the way he had spoken to his wife. Not- withstanding their deep lve for each other, he felt that they were growing farther apart each day. He blamed himself bitterly. He even thought of goitix down to the office and apologizing; but he remembered that she was going to Salemi: Mrs. Dawson retugged with a violent head- ache and a fever. She had had a chill on the train. She tcok'?'cab and drove straight home. Her husband 6pened the door for her. “Dearest,” he said > She threw herself upon Fis breast and ciung to him in her old de- pendent, girlish way, that was indescribably swect to him. “1 em ill, dear,” she sobbed. “So ill. And oh, I am So tired of It all! I have given it all up. I don’t want to be a senator, nor a business woman, nor even a progressive woman; I just want to be your wife again. I want to take care of my children and my home, an@ I want you to bea “Why, God bless my soul gon, He was looking down at the back of her head with the most amazed eyes imag- inable. Mrs. Dawson went ‘to bed without her dinner. In the morning the doctor came and said it.was typhaid fever, Tt was six Wweeks:before Mrs. Dawson was able to go about the house and to hear news of the outside world. Thea, : Mr. Dawson conveyed’ to her, with extreme delicacy and caution, the information that woman suifrage*htid been declared uncon- stitutional and had been abovished. He add- ed that he had considered it his duty to take her place, and he was now running for the senate. “How lovely with a sphins Then she inquired fo: “Oh, he went off on a wild goose c! Australia soon after you were taken ill,” said Dawson, lightly. “Oh,” said Mrs. Dawsor writer? Is he still with y “Why—er—no,” said n. He locked with deep attention at an old Chinaman go- | ing along the street on a trot with two bas- kets of vegetables dangling at the ends of a pole on his shoulder. “The fact ts—I didn” just like him. He wasn’t competent. I—’ he jingled some coins in his pocket have ja very speedy young woman—er—a Miss Standish.” “Oh,” said Mrs, Dawson. When Mr. Dawson started for the office the follow:ng morning his wife followed him to the hall door. She looked charming in her long, soft house dress. Her lovely arms shone out of the flowing sleeves. Her hair was parted in the middle and waved dain- tily. A red rose glowed on her breast. The color was coming back to her cheeks, and her eyes were bright. Her husband put his arm around her and drew her to him with affection and satisfac- tion. He was fully restored to health, and thoroughly pleased with himself. Mrs. Dawson put one arm ar shoulder, and as she kissed him, with the other hand deftly excracted the morning paper from his inside pocket--at.the same time giving him a most charming and ador- able smile. Dawson’s countenance fell. But he de- cided instantly not to remonstrate—this time. By and by, when she was stronger. At the steps he paused and said, lghtly, “Oh; I forgo! “Il not be heme to dinner. Have to dine with some of the boys at the club. Infernal nuisance, this campaign!” It requires so many exhausting lessons to teach a man anything. : a The Last Resort. From the London Globe. “I'll see about it,” he said, as he handed the bill to the collector. “It's only five pounds, and—” “Il see about it, I told you.’ ‘And we need money. It would be a great favor.” “Didn't I say I would call?” “Yes, but when?” “Look here,” said the debtor, as he rose up. “Do you mean to insult me?” ‘No, sir. I mean to go Gown to the newspaper offices and zet them to put in a noticé that you will soon depart for India. Good day, sii 6 “Here, come back. !Here’s your money. Do you suppose Ii want 500 collectors mak- ing a rush on my office? - Please receipt ee ee Sorry I kept your folks waiting ‘or it.” And my type- und his o+—_____ A Diftéult; Subject. From the Pittsburg Ghronicle-Telegraph. “Let me write you an accident Insurance policy,” said an ‘agent to a well-known Pittsburger. 4 é “I don’t think I need one,” was the lat- ter’s reply. “Your wife would find the weekly bene- fits acceptable in casa you were run over by an electric car or injured In some other way.” am not married.” “In that case the benefits would supply the loss of salary while you were laid up.” “I am a member of the firm and would lose nothing in that way.” “But,” persisted the agent, “you would find the money useful to pay the doctor's bills.” one of the best physi- At this point the agent gave it up. oe In Hix Enthasi From Fliegende Blaetter. Judge (to prisoner)—‘Why did you take only the money, and leave the basket of silver?” Prisoner—“‘Because it was too heavy.” Judge (excitedly)—“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, you lazy man?” one morning, } 19 ___—_——_————————————————_______— |} CAPITAL DEFENSES How Washington Would Fare in Case of a War. PROTECTION OF THE POTOMAC An Interesting Glance at Hidden Government Secrets. NO REASON FOR ALARM A tall, lean, lanky man with a few gray hairs straggling around a pair of promi- nent ears, and a nondescript mustache, as far as color is concerned, sticking out at various angles from a protruding upper lip, was working tho latter appendage violent- ly at 7th and the avenue. A bony right arm sawed the air with lively gesture and now and again the left hand would shoot heav- enward to accentuate some ,particularly startling point in his discourse. The ora- tors who hold forth at this favorite corner of idling crowds are usually of the itiner- ant revivalist character, and In their hum- ble way they spread the light of truth into many dark places, but the lanky man was not talking religion—he was holding forth on war. “Couldn't, eh?” he repeated, in a high tre- ble, in which scorn and sarcasm finely blended. ‘Th’ dickens they couldn't. Didn't old Gen. Cockburn do it in ateen hundor gn’ fo’teen? Didn't he come skatin’ across Mairlan’ an’ scoot over Cappitil Hill an’ burn th’ Cappitil an’ th’ W'ite House too. W'y, this here avoynoo was jest scyarlit vith British coats, whilse th’ hevings wes scyarlit with th’ flames of thare raping an’ slaughter! Yaas, sirree! an’ they could do it agin, too! 'Twoodn’ take th’ British- two minnits ter git ter Wash'n't'n after war's declared, cause th’ cappitil of these here United States ain't purtectid now enny mo’ than it were in ateen hunder an’ fo'teen.” His Hearers Are Overwhelmed. He paused in triumph as he perceived tfle effect of his historical dissertation upon his three or four listeners, and the one who had hastily doubted the defenseless condi- tion of Washington In case of war with Sngland when the subject was first broach- ed seemed to be paying more than neces- sary atiention to scraping the ashes out of his pipe. A passerby heard the closing sentences of the colloquy and determined to ascertain, from motives of curiosity, just how Wash- ington would really fare in case of a war with a determined and powerful nation, already armed cap-a-pie for the purpose of preserving the peace of Europe and per- fectly aware of the moral effect that would follow upon the capture of its enemy's cap- ital. The investigation led to many re- markable discoveries, and a recital of some of the results will be interesting doubtless to a majority of the people whose laws are made in this city and whose national de- positaries are situated here. It is probable that no one has ever given very much thought to the subject of Wash- ington being made the objective point of some obsiinate foe other than the wise and ing minds who are clothed with the of Icoking after all matters of nation- efense. These men, however, would smile significantly if the assertion was made that the capital city would fall easy victim to an invading host from without. They are not voluble on the subject, but they have a shrewd conviction that it would be a pretty difficult thing for Wash- ington to be captured by an enemy from without. Were the subject broached to one who knows a thing or two about the means at hand to defend Washington he would probably talk somewhat as follows: Some Startling Statements. “It is true that Washington seems to be in a rather defenseless position in case a war was suddenly brought on with a foreign power, such as England, for Instance, but I am inclined to think that she would rot be altogether so unprotected as the average person believes. So far as attack from a and force which would leave vessels some- where on Chesapeake bay and march across the country is concerned, that would be out of the question. “Cockburn did it, to be sure, but then the states were sparsely settle and there were no means to mobilize sol- diers for the defense of the capital even if there had been any. Today it would be pos- sible to concentrate an army in Wasuington in thirty-six hours sufficient to annihilate any force that could possibly be brought to the Chesapeake in boats. Consequently the only path left by which an enemy could seek to threaten and compel the surren-ler of the capital would be up the Potomae river. What We Have at Indian Head. “Did it ever strike you that the proving grounds at Indian Head were something more than a mere experiment station? The men who selected that spot for the trials of great suns and the tests of shells and high explosives were gifted with much dis- cernment. They perceived that Indian Head controlled a sweep of the lower river for miles and miles, and that in time of an emergency the proving grounds so called could be transformed into a powerful ob- stacle in the path of any hostile boat or fleet of boats that might att2mpt the pas- sage of the stream. With its natural ad- vantages Indian Head could be equipped as an irresistible barrier to such an attempt. There is another point to this that must not be lost sight of. The heavily armored battle ships with their long range crdrance could not get near enough to Indian Head to shell it out of existence without coming in target sight of the place. The Potomac is too shallow for that, and its channels too narrow and tortuous. “Only cruisers and light fighting craft could approach, and before they got !n hurt- ful distance the mighty columbiads at In- dian Head which are now doing duty test- ing armor would knock them into smither- eens. “At Indian Head, too, are a vast amount of stores of various implements and arti- cles of war whose merits have not been tested far enough to admit of favorable re- port, but which would make a remarkable showing in case of an emergency. What would you think if you were told that one of Maxim's slaughter-spreading guns is there only waiting to be put together, or that @ magazine contains a new form of melli- nite shells that can be thrown nine or ten miles and exploded by a time fuse to the hundredth-part of a second? What would you remark if I was to tell you that the river surface for miles below Indian Head and everywhere within range of its furthest carrying gun is platted to a mathematical nicety in squares, and that the exact time it will take a shell to reach one of those squares from the muzzle of any one of the guns is also known to an absolute certainty? You would be, as you are now, surprised into speechle: How would a hostile fleet be rece’ ell, now, fol- low me closely. The System Explained in Detail. “The man at the gun—say it is a thirteen- inch gun—has a peculiar-looking map or chart before him. It is covered with lines crossing each other at various distances apart. There are figures in the spaces thus formed and minute directions which would be Greek to you, but are plain as sunshine to him. He cannot see the river—all he can see is the breech of his gun and the machinery for raising or lowering or de- flecting its muzzle. The chart he has is simply the key to how he shall aim his piece so that its projectile, when the gun Is fired, will drop into any given square of those I spoke about. How does he know which square to select? There is another man in an elevated position far away with a glass to his eye and a telephone mouth piece to his lips. He, too, has a ‘map before him, upon which every one of those squares are faith- fuily recorded. He sees an enemy's ship steaming up the river. He perceives it en- tering square 13, for instance. Instantly he telephones ‘13.’ The microphone attach- ment at the other end of the wire which is in the gun room thunders ‘13.’ The gunner turns his wheel and adjusts the mechanism 0 the gun is pointed so us to cover square 3. There is.a scream of a shell, the time fuse of which has been set by the same ac- tion which fired the charge that propelled it from the piece. The next instant there is an enormous explosion in square 1%, and when the smoke clears away a badly dis- mantled vessel lies helpless in the water. “The man in the lookout at Indian Head glues his eye again to the telescope. He espies another boat more formidable-look- ing than the one upon which the mellinite | man about one doillar,for which an elaborate has just fallen. He sees that it is entering square 71, for instance. Again he tele- phones the simple number, and again th> gun Is craned with autorratie precision up- on the fated vessel, and again the mellinite carries havoc and destruction to it. “You may think that this is wild and ro- mantic imagining, but I assure you that it is not. The platting of the river below In- dian Head into squares that I speak of is nothing new to our government In its sys- tem of the capital defenses. Same System at Fort Washington. “The same identical plan was adopted a long time ago when a similar map of the river below Fort Washington was made, and the same perfect system of handling the guns of that defense, in accordance with the charts that I described just now, adopted. At Fort Washington, too, there are compleie preparations that can be used at a moment's notice for torpedoing the river for many miles below the fort, and these are so simple that the steamer Mac- alester, for instance, could stop at the fort, take on the material and the skilied men, who are always stationed there in charge of it, and ia four or five hours make the river absolutely impassable to a point far below Glymont. What would prevent, you ask, a foreign man-of-war from knocking the ordnance at Indian Head to pieces. “In the first place, it would be difficult for a man-of-war to get up the Potomac far enough to bombard Indian Head, and as soon as ‘he announcement that a foreign vessel had passed through the capes com- ing into Chesapeake bay there would be immediate preparations made at Indian Head, which would in thirty or thirty-six hours transform it into an absolutely im- pervious battery. You must remember there is lots of armor down there that the heaviest guns have been unable to pene- trate at a distance of only a few hundred feet or yards that could be easily placed in Fosition for protective purposes, and yon can readily understand how thoroughly it would defend the monster guns behind it. ‘Oh, no; no one need fear that the city of Washington would fall immediate captive to a foreign foe in case of a war with such an enemy. An invader could not come by way of land from the Chesapeake, for the reasons I gave in the beginning of my con- versation with you, and as for a fleet com- ing up the Potomac, I have shown you eed well why that would also be imposs!i- ie” —.__ JACK TARS AT CHRISTMAS. The Day is One Most Dear to the Sailor’s Heart. ws From the Philadelphia Times. The average sailor may forget his birth- day, work on Sundays and on other holidays observed on shore, but Christmas is always dear to his heart, with the many pleasant recollections of bygone days. If the vessel is a flagship, with a chaplain on board, serv- ice is held in the morning, a little more solemn than the usual Sunday observance, and after a muster and inspection no more work or drill is given to the crew. It 1s when in port that the day is spent as it should be. After cleaning the ship early in the morning, and the sand has been cleared out of the scuppers, the usual breakfast of baked beans, or “burgoo,” is partaken of the same as any other morning, the holiday not beginning for a sailor until the ensign has been hauled out to the gaff end and masts and spars decorated in whatever manner the crew may have decided. At 9 o'clock officers in full uniform inspect the decks and nettings, vainly endeavoring to find the slightest speck or dirt or grease, or perhaps a Shoe brush out of its place. Each division then forms up in double ranks, bright cut- lasses presented, and is inspected by the commanding officer, who passes through. If the man-of-war is on the home station the “bumboat” man has made arrange- ments on the previous day with the caterers of the messes to furnish them a grand din- ner at so much per head. This costs each meal can be provided. Every imaginable delicacy within their means is brought on board before six bells, and fruits in abund+ ance are piled up in the ports and gun spon- sons. Every mess table is garlanded with everrreens, according to the taste of its members, and the petty officers make them- selves more private by means of flag screens and plenty of bunting. A lucky mess is the one whose invitation has been accepted by the bumboat woman. Promptly at eight belis she is placed in the seat of honor at the inboard end of the swinging boards, and, after a little speech, all hands set to and vie with each other in attending upon the only female on the deck. The tin and cracked enamel ware bas been dispensed with, as crockery is furnished by the same party providing the eatables. The only drawback is that the plates cannot he changed with every course, as our men-of- war, however modern they may be, are not perfect in the way of pantries forward. But Jack enjoys it as he jumps from sweetbread patties to roast turkey, skips to boiled ham and helps himself generously to all the vegetables a steward can procure. The plum pudding, however, is his delight, as the officers are not so strict on this day in regard to the bringing on board of liquor, and sauce without brandy would be to the man-of-war's man no sauce at all. It would be useless to try to prevent the use of liquor on this or any other day, and T have known cases where ships had enough liquor on board to float a dingy, and the use of it was abused simply because the officers had started to put their feet down on the smuggling of strong drink. One captain ordered a stop to liberty, and would not allow shore boats to come alongside. One of the caterers ordered a dozen loaves of bread, which were brought off in the market boat on Christmas morning. Each one of these loaves contained a pint bottle of three star brandy. Another ordered the baker to make a huge cake, surmounted by a candied ship. The whole affair, when opened up at dinner, consisted of a’ thin shell of crust over a tin mold filled with something more exciting than mere flour, eggs and sugar. Mince pies have been known to come from the shore to the mess table strong enough to knock the whole mess silly. When the sailors gather about one of these expensively laden tables on Christmas day they do not seem to appreciate the various goodies as the landsman would imagine. If the older men had their way that nicely browned turkey would have little chance when placed side by side with their favorite salt hoss,” and plum pudding would not be “in it” with good “cracker hash,” which is a dish understood only by seafaring men. To tell the truth, they do not believe in these stomach disturbers, and for this reason dys- pepsia is almost unknown to them, From Life. A lay figure. RAILROADS. BALTIMORE AND OHIO RAILROAD, Schedule in effect December 1, 1895. Leave Washington from station corner of New Jersey avenue and © For Clicago and Northwest, Vestibuled Limited tains 11:30 a.m., 8:20 p.m. or Cincinuatl, 'St. Louis and Indianapolis, Vestl- buled Limited 2/45 p.m., Express. 12:01 night. For Pittsburg and Cleveland, Express daily 11:30 a.m. and 8:40 p.m, For Lexington and Stauntcn, 11:30 a.m. For W stations, *5.30 p.m, Koanoke, Knoxville, uphis_ and’ New Orleans, ping Cars through. 45 p.m. daily. 9:10 19:00, “30 a.m, 1:15 p.m. Express trains, stopping at principal stations cnly, *4:30, *5:20 p YORK AND OYAL BLUE LINE FOR’ NEW All trains illuminated with pintsch light. PHILADELPHIA. For Philadelphia, New York, Boston and the East, week deys (7:00, Dining’ Cur), $:00 (10:00 Ley Dining Car) (2:30, Dining Car), 3:00 5:03 Dining Car), 13:01 night, Sleeping Car, open at 10" a Sundays (7:00, Din- ing Car), (9:00 a.m., Kuning Car), ( Dining Gar), 3:00 6:06, “Dining Car), 8:00 (2:01 night, Sleeping Ca open for passengers 10:00 p.m). Butet Parlor Cars on all day trains. For Atlantic City, 1 apd 11:30 a.m, 12:30 p.m, Sundays, 4:58 “Except Sunday. xExpress trains Baggage calied for rnd checked from hotels ané residences by Union Transfer Co, on orders left at ticket offices, 619 Pennsyivunia avenue northwest, New York avenue and 15th street and at depot. BR. B. CAMPBELL, CHAS. 0. SCULL, acz Gen, Manager. Gen. Pass. Agt. SOUTHERN RAILWAY, (Piedmont Air Line.) Scheavle in effect November 3, 1895. All trains arrive and leave at Pennsylvania Passenger Station. 8:00 A.M.—Daslv—Local for Danville. Connects at Manassas for Strasburg, daily, except Sunday, and at Lynchburg with the Norfolk and Western daily. and with C. & O. daily for Natural Bridge and Clifton Forg AL:15 M.—Dally—The UNITED STATES FAST MAIL carries Pullman Buffet Sleepers New York and Washington to Jacksonville, uniting at Cbar- lotte with Pullman Sleeper for Augusta; also Pull- uian Sleeper New York to New Orleans via Mont- mnery, connecting at Atlanta with Jullman jeeper for Birmingham, Memphis and St. Louis. Ail, PM—Lvcat for’ Strasburg, dally, “except enday. 4:39 “P.M.—Datls—“Exposition Flyer," Pullman Sleeper New York ond Washington to Atlanta, Vestibuled es Berar Wasbingtoa to Atianta. 4:51. P.M.—Daily—Local for Ciarlottesville. i P.M. -Daily—WASHINGTON AND SOUTH- WESTERN VESTIBULED LIMITED, Solid Train of Pullman Vestituled Sleepers, Dining Cars und Day Coaches. New York to Atlanta. Pullman rs New York to Asheville and Hot Springs, N. C.; New York to Memphis via Birmingham, New York to New Orleans via Atlanta end Montgomery, and New York to Tam via Charlotte, Columbia end Jacksonville. Vestibuled Day Coach New York to Atlanta. Diuing Car from Greensboro’ to Mont- gomery. TRAINS BETWEEN WASHINGTON AND ROUND HILL leave Washington 9:01 AM. daily and 4:45 P.M. dally, except Sunday, and 6:25 P.M. Bun- days only, for Round Hill; 4:32 P.M.. dally, except Supduy, for Leesburg, and 6:25 P-M., daily, for Herndon. Returning “arrive at Washington § A.M. and 3:00 P.M. daily from Round Hill, 7: A.M: daily, except Sunday, from Herndon, and 8:34 A.M. dally, except Sunday, from Ivesburg. ‘Through trains from the south arrive at Washing- 2 AM.. 11:45 AM., 2:20 P.M. and 9:40 P.M. daily. Manassas Division, A.M. daily, except Sunday, and 8:40 A.M.’ daily from Char- lottesville. Tickets, Sleeping Car reservation and information furnished at offices, 511 and 1300 Pennsylvania ave- Bos, ‘and at Penatylvania Reltroed Passenger Ste- jon. W, H. GREEN, Gencral Superintendent. J. M. CULP, ‘Traffic Manager. W "A. TURK, Genera! Passenger Agent. no2i L. 8. BROWN, Gen. Agt. Pass. Dept. CHESAPEAKE AND OHIO RAILWAY. Schedule in effect November 17, 1895. ‘Trains leave daily from Union Station (B. and P.), 6th and B sts. ‘Through the grandest scene in America, with the handsomest ‘and most complete solid train serv- ice west from. Washington. 2:05 P.M. DAILY.—“Cin-innat! and St. Touts Special”—Sclld Vestivuled, Newly Euulpped, Elec tric-lighted, Steam-beated’ Train. Pullman's finest sleeping cats Washington to Cincinnati, Indianapolis and St. Louis daily. Dining Car from W: ington. Arrive’ Cincinnati, ‘8:00 a.m.; Indlanapol a.m.: Chicago, :30 p.m.: St. Louls, 6:45 p.m. Lexington, 11:10 a.m.; Loutsville, 11:50 a.m. (via Cincinna: 11:10 P.M. DAILY.—The famons “F. F. V. Lim- ited." A’ solid Vestibuled train, with Dining Car pers for Cincinnati, Lexington and and Pullman Sle Louisville without change. Pullman Sleeper Wash- ington to Virginia Hot Springs, without chai Wednesdays and Saturdays. Arrive Cincinnatl, 5: p.m.; Lexington, 6:00 p.m.: Louisville, 9:40 p.m; Indianapolis, 11:05 p.m.; Chicago, 7:30 a.m.; St. Louis, 7:30 a.m. and Hot Springs, 9:15 a.im.;' con- nects’ in Union Depot for 10:57 A. XCEPT Comfort and Norfolk. Only rail line. 2:25 P.M. DAILY.—Express for Gordonsville, Charlottesville, Waynesboro’, Staunton and prin- cipal Virginia’ points, daily;" for Richmond, daily, except Sonday Pullman locations end tickets at company’s of- fices, 513 and ‘421 Pennsylvania avenue. H.W. FULLER, General Passenger Agent. YLVAMIA RAILROAD. Station corner of 6th and B streets. In effect November 17, 1895. 10:30 A.M. PE VANIA_LIMITED,—Putlman Sleeping, Dining, Suiokiag and Observation Cars Harrisburg to Chicago, Cincinnati, indianapolis, St. Louis, Clevelaad and Toledo. "Buffet Parlor Car to Harrisburg. 1030 AM FAST LINE.—Pullman Buffet Parlor Gar to Harrisburg. Parlor and Dining Cars, Harrisburg to Pi 3:40 PM. CHICAG ST. LOUIS EXPRESS.— Pullman Buffet Parlo- Uar to Tiarrisburg. Sleep- ing and Dining Cars, Herricburg to St. Louls, Cincinnati, Louisville and Chicago. 7:10 P.af. "WESTERN EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleop- ing Car’ to Chicago and Harrisburg to Cleveland. Diting Car to Chicag 7:10 P.M. SOUTHWESTERN EXPRESS.—Pullman Biceping and Dining Cars to St. Louis, and Sleep- ing cr fF Harrisburg to Cincianatl, tng Car to Pittsburg. P.M. PACIFIC EXPRESS.—Pullman Sleep- 7:50 ALM. scr Kane, Canandaigua, Rochester and ‘Niagere Falls daily, except Sunday. 10:30" A.M. f Elniira and Renovo, daily except Sunday, Fo- W"'lamsport daily, 3:40 P.M. 7:10 P.M. for Williamsport, Rochester, Buftaic and ‘Niagara Falls daljy, except Saturday, with Slee ing Car Washington to Bridge, vis Rochester, But- 340 Teil. for Erle, Canandaigua, M. for Erie, Canas Niagara Falls daily, Sleeping Car Wash- ington to Elmira. For Philadelpbis. New York and the East. “OONGRESSIONAL LIMITED,” daily, I! Parlor Cars, with Dining Car from Baltimore. Regular at 7:05. (Dinii r), 7:20, 9:00, 10:00 (Dining Car), and 11:00, (Dining Car, trom Wil- mington) A.M.. 12:45. 3:15, 4:20, 6:40, 10:00 and Gn Sunday 7:05 (Dining Car), 7:20, Car from Wimington), 10:00 and 11:35 Fast Express, 7:50 A.M: Geen peg 12:15 we days, 2:01 and a P.. ly. For Boston, without change, 7:50 A.M. week days, and 3:14 P.M. daily. For Baltimore, 6:26, 7:05, 7:20, delphia al PM. 20 A.M. and 4:36 P.M. lis, 7:20, 9:00 A.M., 12:18 2nd 4:20 iy: except Sunday. Sundays, 9:00 A.M. press for Richmobd, Tnck- For Pope's Creek Line, For Anoay dal P.M. and Atlantic Ce sonville ay «, 3:46 P.M. daily, P.M. daily.” Ric! Ico, 780 At ico, 7:45 A.M. Sally, 325 P.M. = sicee For Alexani - 8:02 and 10:10 Washington, 6:05, 6:43, 10:28 A.M," 1:00, 2:15, Alexandria for 10:15, the station, 6th and B streets, where orders can be left for the checking of baggage to destination from hote's and residences. JR. woop, |. PREVOST, General Passenger Agent. MANICURE SUPERFLUOUS HAIRS, BIRTHMARKS, MOLES, &c., destroyea forever by ELECTRICITY; freck- Lis,” premature wrinkles and all facial blemishes ved. FACIAL MASSAGE. No pain, no scar, . 002 F st nw. 4223-1m* FACIAL BLEMISHES, MOLES, WARTS AND SU- pertlicus hair removed, leaving mo trace, by the tle: tric needle process.’ Only sure and permanent cure; specialist, bas had years of experience, MARGARET M.’ RETRAYE, 707 13th n.w., Koom RE ND RESIDENCE, 703 15th st. nw, OFFICE Surdays. 9 3.m. to 1 p.m. 016-44 DENTISTRY. U. 8. DENTAL ASSOCIATION, Cor. 7th and Dn “The Expert Dentists."" Comparison in- sited. Painless operations guarantred. Painkss extracting, 56c.; painless dling, TSe. up. GCther prices correspond. Happy to make your a intance. di FREE DENTAL INFIRMARY, 625 Mass. ave., Homoeopathic Dispensary bldg. Open daily from 10 to 12 a.m., and 2 to 5 p.m. No charge execpt for materials’ used. Extracti free, Also Free Dispensary, 2 to 5 daily. 5e26-